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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10538-0.txt b/10538-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1606a96 --- /dev/null +++ b/10538-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8356 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10538 *** + +HYACINTH + +By George A. Birmingham + +1906 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +In the year 1850 or thereabouts religious and charitable society in +England was seized with a desire to convert Irish Roman Catholics to +the Protestant faith. It is clear to everyone with any experience of +missionary societies that, the more remote the field of actual work, the +easier it is to keep alive the interest of subscribers. The mission to +Roman Catholics, therefore, commenced in that western portion of Galway +which the modern tourist knows as Connemara, and the enthusiasm was +immense. Elderly ladies, often with titles, were energetic in the cause +of the new reformation. Young ladies, some of them very attractive, +collected money from their brothers and admirers. States-men and Bishops +headed the subscription-lists, and influential committees earnestly +debated plans for spending the money which poured in. Faith in the +efficacy of money handled by influential committees is one of the +characteristics of the English people, and in this particular case +it seemed as if their faith were to be justified by results. Most +encouraging reports were sent to headquarters from Connemara. It +appeared that converts were flocking in, and that the schools of the +missionaries were filled to overflowing. In the matter of education +circumstances favoured the new reformation. The leonine John McHale, the +Papal Archbishop of Tuam, pursued a policy which drove the children of +his flock into the mission schools. The only other kind of education +available was that which some humorous English statesman had called +‘national,’ and it did not seem to the Archbishop desirable that an +Irish boy should be beaten for speaking his own language, or rewarded +for calling himself ‘a happy English child.’ He refused to allow the +building of national schools in his diocese, and thus left the cleverer +boys to drift into the mission schools, where they learnt carefully +selected texts of Scripture along with the multiplication-table. The +best of them were pushed on through Dublin University, and crowned the +hopes of their teachers by taking Holy Orders in the Church of England. +There are still to be met with in Galway and Mayo ancient peasants and +broken-down inhabitants of workhouses who speak with a certain pride +of ‘my brother the minister.’ There are also here and there in English +rectories elderly gentlemen who have almost forgotten the thatched +cottages where they ate their earliest potatoes. + +Among these cleverer boys was one Æneas Conneally, who was something +more than clever. He was also religious in an intense and enthusiastic +manner, which puzzled his teachers while it pleased them. His ancestors +had lived for generations on a seaboard farm, watered by salt rain, +swept by misty storms. The famine and the fever that followed it left +him fatherless and brotherless. The emigration schemes robbed him and +his mother of their surviving relations. The mission school and the +missionary’s charity effected the half conversion of the mother and a +whole-hearted acceptance of the new faith on the part of Æneas. Unlike +most of his fellows in the college classrooms, he refused to regard an +English curacy as the goal of his ambition. It seemed to him that his +conversion ought not to end in his parading the streets of Liverpool in +a black coat and a white tie. He wanted to return to his people and tell +them in their own tongue the Gospel which he had found so beautiful. + +The London committee meditated on his request, and before they arrived +at a conclusion his mother died, having at the last moment made a +tardy submission to the Church she had denied. Her apostasy--so the +missionaries called it--confirmed the resolution of her son, and the +committee at length agreed to allow him to return to his native village +as the first Rector of the newly-created parish of Carrowkeel. He was +provided with all that seemed necessary to insure the success of +his work. They built him a gray house, low and strong, for it had to +withstand the gales which swept in from the Atlantic. They bought him +a field where a cow could graze, and an acre of bog to cut turf from. A +church was built for him, gray and strong, like his house. It was fitted +with comfortable pews, a pulpit, a reading-desk, and a movable table of +wood decently covered with a crimson cloth. Beyond the church stood the +school he had attended as a boy, whitewashed without and draped inside +with maps and illuminated texts. A salary, not princely but sufficient, +was voted to Mr. Conneally, and he was given authority over a +Scripture-reader and a schoolmaster. The whole group of mission +buildings--the rectory, the church, and the school--stood, like types +of the uncompromising spirit of Protestantism, upon the bare hillside, +swept by every storm, battered by the Atlantic spray. Below them +Carrowkeel, the village, cowered in such shelter as the sandhills +afforded. Eastward lonely cottages, faintly smoking dots in the +landscape, straggled away to the rugged bases of the mountains. The +Rev. Æneas Conneally entered upon his mission enthusiastically, and +the London committee awaited results. There were scarcely any results, +certainly none that could be considered satisfactory. The day for making +conversions was past, and the tide had set decisively against the new +reformation. A national school, started by a clearsighted priest, in +spite of his Archbishop, left the mission school almost without pupils. +The Scripture-reader lost heart, and took to seeking encouragement +in the public-house. He found it, and once when exalted--he said, +spiritually--paraded the streets cursing the Virgin Mary. Worse +followed, and the committee in London dismissed the man. A diminishing +income forced on them the necessity of economy, and no successor was +appointed. For a few years Mr. Conneally laboured on. Then a sharp-eyed +inspector from London discovered that the schoolmaster took very little +trouble about teaching, but displayed great talent in prompting his +children at examinations. He, too, was dismissed, and the committee, +still bent on economy, appointed a mistress in his place. She was a +pretty girl, and after she had shivered through the stormy nights of +two winters in the lonely school-house, Mr. Conneally married her. +Afterwards the office of school-teacher was also left vacant. The +whitewashed school fell gradually into decay, and the committee effected +a further saving. + +After his marriage Mr. Conneally’s missionary enthusiasm began to flag. +His contact with womanhood humanized him. The sternness of the reformer +died in him, and his neighbours, who never could comprehend his +religion, came to understand the man. They learned to look upon him as a +friend, to seek his sympathy and help. In time they learnt to love him. + +Two years passed, and a son was born. The village people crowded upon +him with congratulations, and mothers of wide experience praised the boy +till Mrs. Conneally’s heart swelled in her with pride. He was christened +Hyacinth, after a great pioneer and leader of the mission work. The +naming was Mr. Conneally’s act of contrition for the forsaking of +his enthusiasm, his recognition of the value of a zeal which had not +flagged. Failing the attainment of greatness, the next best thing is to +dedicate a new life to a patron saint who has won the reward of those +who endure to the end. For two years more life in the glebe house was +rapturously happy. Such bliss has in it, no doubt, an element of sin, +and it is not good that it should endure. This was to be seen afterwards +in calmer times, though hardly at the moment when the break came. There +was a hope of a second child, a delightful time of expectation; then an +accident, the blighting of the hope, and in a few days the death of Mrs. +Conneally. Her husband buried her, digging the first grave in the rocky +ground that lay around the little church. + +For a time Mr. Conneally was stunned by his sorrow. He stopped working +altogether, ceased to think, even to feel. Men avoided him with +instinctive reverence at first, and afterwards with fear, as he +wandered, muttering to himself, among the sandhills and along the beach. +After a while the power of thought and a sense of the outward things of +life returned to him. He found that an aged crone from the village had +established herself in his house, and was caring for Hyacinth. He let +her stay, and according to her abilities she cooked and washed for him +and the boy, neither asking wages nor taking orders from him, until she +died. + +Hyacinth grew and throve amazingly. From morning till evening he was in +the village, among the boats beside the little pier, or in the fields, +when the men worked there. Everyone petted and loved him, from Father +Moran, the priest who had started the national school, down to old +Shamus, the crippled singer of interminable Irish songs and teller of +heroic legends of the past. It was when he heard the boy repeat a story +of Finn MacCool to the old crone in the kitchen that Mr. Conneally awoke +to the idea that he must educate his son. He began, naturally enough, +with Irish, for it was Irish, and not English, that Hyacinth spoke +fluently. + +Afterwards the English alphabet followed, though not for the sake of +reading books, for except the Bible and the Prayer-Book Hyacinth was +taught to read no English books. He learned Latin after a fashion, not +with nice attention to complexities of syntax, but as a language meant +to be used, read, and even spoken now and then to Father Moran. + +Meanwhile the passage of the years brought changes to Carrowkeel. +The Admiralty established a coastguard station near the village, and +arranged, for the greater security of the Empire, that men in blue-serge +clothes should take it in turns to look at the Atlantic through a +telescope. Then the unquiet spirit of the Congested Districts Board +possessed the place for a while. A young engineer designed a new pier to +shelter fishing-boats. He galvanized the people into unwonted activity, +and, though sceptical of good results, they earned a weekly wage by +building it. Boats came, great able boats, which fought the Atlantic, +and the old curraghs were left to blister in the sun far up on the +beach. Instructors from the Isle of Man taught new ways of catching +mackerel. Green patches between the cottages and the sea, once the +playground of pigs and children, or the marine parade of solemn lines +of geese, were spread with brown nets. On May mornings, if the take was +good, long lines of carts rattled down the road carrying the fish to +the railway at Clifden, and the place bore for a while the appearance +of vitality. A vagrant Englishman discovered that lobsters could be had +almost for the asking in Carrowkeel. The commercial instincts of his +race were aroused in him. + +He established a trade between the villagers and the fishmongers of +Manchester. The price of lobsters rose to the unprecedented figure of +four shillings a dozen, and it was supposed that even so the promoter of +the scheme secured a profit. + +To Æneas Conneally, growing quietly old, the changes meant very little. +The coastguards, being bound by one of the articles of the British +Constitution, came to church on Sunday mornings with exemplary +regularity, and each man at fixed intervals brought a baby to be +christened and a woman to be churched. Otherwise they hardly affected +Mr. Conneally’s life. The great officials who visited Carrowkeel to +survey the benignant activities of the Congested Districts Board +were men whose magnificent intellectual powers raised them above any +recognised form of Christianity. Neither Father Moran’s ministrations +nor Mr. Conneally’s appealed to them. + +The London committee of the mission to Roman Catholics made no inquiry +about what was going on at Carrowkeel. They asked for no statistics, +expected no results, but signed quarterly cheques for Mr. Conneally, +presuming, one may suppose, that if he had ceased to exist they would +somehow have heard of it. + +By far the most important event for Hyacinth and his father was the +death of their old housekeeper. In the changed state of society in +Carrowkeel it was found impossible to secure the services of another. +Hyacinth, at this time about fifteen years old, took to the housework +without feeling that he was doing anything strange or unmanly. He was +familiar with the position of ‘bachelor boys’ who, having grown elderly +under the care of a mother, preferred afterwards the toil of their own +kitchens to the uncertain issue of marrying a girl to ‘do for them.’ +Life under their altered circumstances was simplified. It seemed +unnecessary to carry a meal from the room it was cooked in to another +for the purpose of eating it, so the front rooms of the house, with +their tattered furniture, were left to moulder quietly in the persistent +damp. One door was felt to be sufficient for the ingress and egress +of two people from a house. The kitchen door, being at the back of the +house, was oftenest the sheltered one, so the front door was bolted, and +the grass grew up to it. One by one, as Hyacinth’s education required, +the Latin and Greek books were removed from the forsaken study, and +took their places among the diminishing array of plates and cups on the +kitchen dresser. The spreading and removal of a tablecloth for every +meal came to be regarded as foolish toil. When room was required on the +table for plates, the books and papers were swept on one side. A pile of +potatoes, and the pan, with bacon or a fish perhaps still frizzling in +it, was set in the place left vacant. + +Morning and evening Æneas Conneally expected his son to join with him in +prayer. The two knelt together on the earthen floor facing the window, +while the old man meditated aloud on Divine things. There were breaks in +his speech and long silences, so that sometimes it was hard to tell +when his prayer had really ended. These devotions formed a part of +his father’s life into which Hyacinth never really entered at all. He +neither rebelled nor mocked. He simply remained outside. So when his +father wandered off to solitary places on the seashore, and sat gazing +into the sunset or a gathering storm, Hyacinth neither followed nor +questioned him. Sometimes on winter nights when the wind howled more +fiercely than usual round the house, the old man would close the book +they read together, and repeat aloud long passages from the Apocalypse. +His voice, weak and wavering at first, would gather strength as he +proceeded, and the young man listened, stirred to vague emotion over the +fall of Babylon the Great. + +For the most part Hyacinth’s time was his own. Even the hours of study +were uncertain. He read when he liked, and his father seemed content +with long days of idleness followed by others of application. It was, +indeed, only owing to his love of what he read that the boy learned at +all. Often while he tramped from his home to the village at midday his +heart was hot within him with some great thought which had sprung to him +from a hastily construed chorus of Euripides. Sometimes he startled the +fishermen when he went with them at night by chanting Homer’s rolling +hexameters through the darkness while the boat lay waiting, borne +gunwale down to the black water with the drag of the net that had been +shot. + +There was a tacit understanding that Hyacinth, like his father, was +to take Holy Orders. He matriculated in Trinity College when he was +eighteen, and, as is often done by poorer students, remained at home, +merely passing the required examinations, until he took his degree, +and the time came for his entering the divinity school. Then it became +necessary for him to reside in Dublin, and the first great change in his +life took place. + +The night before he left home he and his father sat together in the +kitchen after they had finished their evening meal. For a long time +neither of them spoke. Hyacinth held a book in his hand, but scarcely +attempted to read it. His thoughts wandered from hopeful expectation of +what the future was to bring him and the new life was to mean, to vague +regrets, weighted with misgivings, which would take no certain shape. +There crowded upon him recollections of busy autumn days when the grain +harvest overtook the belated hay-making, and men toiled till late in +the fields; of long nights in the springtime when he tugged at the +fishing-nets, and felt the mackerel slipping and flapping past his +feet in the darkness; of the longer winter nights when he joined the +gatherings of the boys and girls to dance jigs and reels on the earthen +floor of some kitchen. It seemed now that all this was past and over for +him. Holiday time would bring him back to Carrowkeel, but would it be +the same? Would he be the same? + +He looked at his father, half hoping for sympathy; but the old man sat +gazing--it seemed to Hyacinth stupidly--into the fire. He wondered if +his father had forgotten that this was their last evening together. Then +suddenly, without raising his eyes, the old man began to speak, and it +appeared that he, too, was thinking of the change. + +‘I do not know, my son, what they will teach you in their school of +divinity. I have long ago forgotten all I learned there, and I have not +missed the knowledge. It does not seem to me now that what they taught +me has been of any help in getting to know Him.’ + +He paused for a long time. Hyacinth was familiar enough with his +father’s ways of speech to know that the emphatic ‘Him’ meant the God +whom he worshipped. + +‘There is, I am sure, only one way in which we can become His friends. +_These are they which have come out of great tribulation!_ You remember +that, Hyacinth? That is the only way. You may be taught truths about +Him, but they matter very little. You have already great thoughts, +burning thoughts, but they will not of themselves bring you to Him. The +other way is the only way. Shall I wish it for you, my son? Shall I give +it to you for my blessing? May great tribulation come upon you in your +life! _Great tribulation!_ See how weak my faith is even now at the very +end. I cannot give you this blessing, although I know very well that it +is the only way. I know this, because I have been along this way myself, +and it has led me to Him.’ + +Again he paused. It did not seem to Hyacinth to be possible to say +anything. He was not sure in his heart that the friendship of the Man of +Sorrows was so well worth having that he would be content to pay for it +by accepting such a benediction from his father. + +‘I shall do this for you, Hyacinth: I shall pray that when the choice is +given you, the great choice between what is easy and what is hard, the +right decision may be made for you. I do not know in what form it will +come. Perhaps it will be as it was with me. He made the choice for me, +for indeed I could not have chosen for myself. He set my feet upon the +narrow way, forced me along it for a while, and now at the end I see His +face.’ + +Hyacinth had heard enough of the brief bliss of his father’s married +life to understand. He caught for the first time a glimpse of the +meaning of the solitary life, the long prayers, and the meditations. He +was profoundly moved, but it did not even then seem to him desirable to +choose such a way, or to have such attainment thrust on him. + +Next morning the autumn sunlight chased the recollection of his emotion +from his mind. The fishermen stopped his car as he drove through the +street to shake hands with him. Their wives shouted familiar blessings +from the cabin doors. Father Moran came bare-headed to the gate of his +presbytery garden and waved a farewell. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +There is that about the material fabric, the actual stone and mortar, of +Trinity College, Dublin, which makes a vivid appeal to the imagination +of the common man. The cultured sentimentalist will not indeed be +able to lave his soul in tepid emotion while he walks through these +quadrangles, as he may among the cloisters and chapels of the Oxford +colleges. The amateur of the past cannot here stand at gaze before any +single building as he does before the weather-beaten front of Oriel, +tracing in imagination the footsteps of Newman or Arnold. Yet to the +average man, and far more to the newly emancipated schoolboy, Trinity +College, Dublin, makes an appeal which can hardly be ignored. In Oxford +and Cambridge town and University are mixed together; shops jostle and +elbow colleges in the streets. In Dublin a man leaves the city behind +him when he enters the college, passes completely out of the atmosphere +of the University when he steps on to the pavement. The physical +contrast is striking enough, appealing to the ear and the eye. The +rattle of the traffic, the jangling of cart bells, the inarticulate +babel of voices, suddenly cease when the archway of the great +entrance-gate is passed. + +An immense silence takes their place. There is no longer any need for +watchfulness, nor risk of being hustled by the hurrying crowds. +Instead of footway and street crossing there are broad walks, untrodden +stretches of smooth grass. The heavy campanile is in front, and heights +of gray building frown down on each side. It needs no education, not +even any imagination, to appreciate the change. It is not necessary to +know that great scholars inhabited the place, to recall any name or +any man’s career. The appeal is not to a recollected impression of the +Middle Ages, or indeed of any past, remote or near. It is the spirit of +scholarship itself, abstract, intangible, which creates this atmosphere. +Knowledge, a severe goddess, awes while she beckons. + +Hyacinth Conneally had submitted himself to such emotions time after +time when, fresh from the wilds of Connemara, he made his way to the +examination-hall, an outside student in a borrowed cap and gown. Now, +when for the first time he entered into the actual life of the college, +could look up at windows of rooms that were his own, and reckon on his +privilege of fingering tomes from the shelves of the huge library, the +spirit of the place awed him anew. He neither analyzed nor attempted +an expression of what he felt, but his first night within the walls was +restless because of the inspiration which filled him. + +Yet this college does not fail to make an appeal also to the thinking +mind, only it is a strange appeal, tending to sadness. The sudden +silence after the tumult of the streets has come for some minds to +be the symbol of a divorce between the knowledge within and the life +without. And this is not the separation which must always exist between +thought and action, the gulf fixed between the student and the merchant. +It is a real divorce between the nation and the University, between +the two kinds of life which ought, like man and woman, to complete each +other through their very diversity, but here have gone hopelessly apart. +Never once through all the centuries of Ireland’s struggle to express +herself has the University felt the throb of her life. It is true +that Ireland’s greatest patriots, from Swift to Davis, have been her +children; but she has never understood their spirit, never looked on +them as anything but strangers to her family. They have been to her +stray robber wasps, to be driven from the hive; while to the others they +have seemed cygnets among her duckling brood. It is very wonderful that +the University alone has been able to resist the glamour of Ireland’s +past, and has failed to admire the persistency of her nationality. +There has surely been enough in every century that has passed since the +college was founded to win it over from alien thought and the ideals of +the foreigner. + +All this Hyacinth came to feel afterwards, and learnt in bitterness of +spirit to be angry at the University’s isolation from Irish life. At +first quite other thoughts crowded upon his mind. He felt a rebellion +against his father’s estimate of what he was to learn. It seemed to him +that he had come into vital touch with the greatest life of all. He was +to join the ranks of those who besieged the ears of God for knowledge, +and left behind them to successors yet unborn great traditions of the +enigmas they had guessed. In entering upon the study of theology he +seemed to become a soldier in the sacred band, the élite of the army +which won and guarded truth. Already he was convinced that there could +be no greater science than the Divine one, no more inspiring moment in +life than this one when he took his first step towards the knowledge of +God. + +He crossed the quadrangle with his mind full of such thoughts, +and joined a group of students round the door of one of the +examination-halls. It did not shock his sense of fitness that some of +his fellow-students in the great science wore shabby clothes, or that +others scorned the use of a razor. Bred as he had been at home, he felt +no incongruity between dirty collars and the study of divinity. It +was not until he caught scraps of conversation that he experienced an +awakening from his dream. One eager group surrounded a foreseeing youth +who had written the dates of the first four General Councils of the +Church upon his shirt-cuff. + +‘Read them out, like a good man,’ said one. + +‘Hold on a minute,’ said another, ‘till I see if I have got them right. +I ground them up specially this morning. Nicæa, 318--no, hang it! that’s +the number of Bishops who were present; 325 was the date, wasn’t it?’ + +‘What was the row about at Chalcedon?’ asked a tall, pale youth. ‘Didn’t +some monk or other go for Cyril of Alexandria?’ + +‘You’ll be stuck anyhow, Tommy,’ said a neat, dapper little man with a +very ragged gown. + +Hyacinth slipped past the group, and approached two better dressed +students who stood apart from the others. + +‘Is this,’ he asked, ‘where the entrance examination to the divinity +school is to be held?’ + +For answer he received a curt ‘Yes’ and a stare. Apparently his suit of +brown Connemara homespun did not commend him to these aristocrats. They +turned their backs on him, and resumed their conversation. + +‘She was walking up and down the pier listening to the band with two +of the rankest outsiders you ever set eyes on--medicals out of Paddy +Dunn’s. Of course I could do nothing else but break it off.’ + +‘Oh, you were engaged to her, then? I didn’t know.’ + +‘Well, I was and I wasn’t. Anyhow, I thought it better to have a clear +understanding. She came up to me outside the door of Patrick’s on Sunday +afternoon just as if nothing had happened. “Hullo, Bob,” says she; +“I haven’t seen you for ages.” “My name,” said I, “is Mr. Banks”--just +like that, as cool as you please. I could see she felt it. “I’ve called +you Bob,” says she, very red in the face, “and you’ve called me Maimie +ever since we went to Sunday-school together, and I’m not going to begin +calling you Mr. Banks now, my boy-o! so don’t you think it!”’ + +It was a relief to Hyacinth when he was tapped on the arm by a boy with +a very pimply face, who thrust a paper into his hand, and distracted +his attention from the final discomfiture of Maimie, which Mr. Banks was +recounting in a clear, high-pitched voice, as if he wished everyone in +the neighbourhood to hear it. + +‘I hope you’ll come,’ said the boy. + +‘Where?’ + +‘It’s all in the paper. The students’ prayer-meeting, held every +Wednesday morning at nine o’clock sharp. Special meeting to-morrow.’ + +Hyacinth was bewildered. There was something quite unfamiliar in this +prompt and business-like advertisement of prayer. The student with the +papers began to be doubtful of him. + +‘You’re not High Church, are you?’ he asked. ‘We’re not. We don’t have +printed offices, with verses and responds, and that sort of thing. We +have extempore prayer by members of the union.’ + +‘No; I’m not High Church,’ said Hyacinth--‘at least, I think not. I +don’t really know much about these things. I’ll be very glad to go to +your meeting.’ + +‘That’s right,’ said the other. ‘All are welcome. There will be special +prayer to-morrow for the success of the British arms. I suppose you +heard that old Kruger has sent an ultimatum. There will be war at once.’ + +There was a sudden movement among the students; gowns were pulled +straight and caps adjusted. + +‘Here he comes,’ said someone. + +Dr. Henry, the divinity professor, crossed the square rapidly. He was a +middle-aged man, stout, almost ponderous, in figure; but he held himself +rigidly upright, and walked fast across the square. The extreme neatness +of his clothes contrasted with the prevailing shabbiness of the students +and the assistant lecturers who followed him. Yet he did not seem to be +a man who gave to externals more than their due share of consideration. +His broad forehead gave promise of great intellectual power, a promise +half belied by the narrow gray eyes beneath it. These were eyes which +might see keenly, and would certainly see things just as they are, +though they were not likely to catch any glimpse of that greater +world where objects cannot be focussed sharply. Yet in them, an odd +contradiction, there lurked a possibility of humorous twinkling. The +man was capable perhaps of the broad tolerance of the great humorist, +certainly of very acute perception of life’s minor incongruities. His +thin lips were habitually pressed together, giving a suggestion of +strength to the set of his mouth. A man with such a mouth can think and +act, but not feel either passionately or enduringly. He will direct men +because he knows his own mind, but is not likely to sway them because +he will always be master of himself, and will not become enslaved to +any great enthusiasm. The students trooped into the hall, and the +examination began. The assistant lecturers helped in the work. Each +student was called up in turn, asked a few questions, and given a +portion of the Greek Testament to translate. For the most part their +capacities were known beforehand. There were some who had won honours +in their University course before entering the divinity school. For +them the examiners were all smiles, and the business of the day was +understood to be perfunctory. Others were recognised as mere pass men, +whom it was necessary to spur to some exertion. A few, like Hyacinth, +were unknown. These were the poorer students who had not been able to +afford to reside at the University sooner than was absolutely necessary. +Their knowledge, generally scanty, was received by the examiners with +undisguised contempt. It fell to Hyacinth’s lot to present himself to +Dr. Henry. He did so tremulously. + +The professor inquired his name, and looked him over coldly. + +‘Read for me,’ he said, handing him a Greek Testament. The passage +marked was St. Paul’s great description of charity. It was very familiar +to Hyacinth, and he read it with a serious feeling for the words. Dr. +Henry, who at first had occupied himself with some figures on a sheet of +paper, looked up and listened attentively. + +‘Where were you at school,’ he asked. ‘Who taught you Greek?’ + +‘My father taught me, sir.’ + +‘Ah! You have got a very peculiar pronunciation, and you’ve made an +extraordinary number of mistakes in accentuation and quantity, but +you’ve read as if St. Paul meant something. Now translate.’ + +‘You have given me,’ he said, when Hyacinth had finished, ‘the +Authorized Version word for word. Can you do no better than that?’ + +‘I can do it differently,’ said Hyacinth, ‘not better.’ + +‘Do you know any Greek outside of the New Testament?’ + +Hyacinth repeated a few lines from Homer. + +‘That book of the “Odyssey” is not in the college course,’ said Dr. +Henry. ‘How did you come to read it?’ + +Hyacinth had no explanation to give. He had read the book, it seemed, +without being forced, and without hope of getting a prize. He recited it +as if he liked it. The remainder of the examination disclosed the fact +that he was lamentably deficient in the rudiments of Greek grammar, and +had the very vaguest ideas of the history of the Church. + +Afterwards Professor Henry discussed the new class with his assistants +as they crossed the square together. + +‘The usual lot,’ said Dr. Spenser--‘half a dozen scholars, perhaps one +man among them with real brains. The rest are either idlers or, what is +worse, duffers.’ + +‘I hit on one man with brains,’ said Dr. Henry. + +‘Oh! Thompson, I suppose. I saw that you took him. He did well in his +degree exam.’ + +‘No,’ said Dr. Henry; ‘the man I mean has more brains than Thompson. +He’s a man I never heard of before. His name is Conneally. He looks +as if he came up from the wilds somewhere. He has hands like an +agricultural labourer, and a brogue that I fancy comes from Galway. +But he’s a man to keep an eye on. He may do something by-and-by if he +doesn’t go off the lines. We must try and lick him into shape a bit.’ + +Hyacinth Conneally knew extremely little about the politics, foreign or +domestic, of the English nation. His father neither read newspapers nor +cared to discuss such rumours of the doings of Governments as happened +to reach Carrowkeel. On the other hand, he knew a good deal about +the history of Ireland, and the English were still for him the ‘new +foreigners’ whom Keating describes. His intercourse with the fishermen +and peasants of the Galway seaboard had intensified his vague dislike +of the series of oscillations between bullying and bribery which make up +the story of England’s latest attempts to govern Ireland. Without in the +least understanding the reasons for the war in South Africa, he felt +a strong sympathy with the Boers. To him they seemed a small people +doomed, if they failed to defend themselves, to something like the +treatment which Ireland had received. + +It was therefore with surprise, almost with horror, that he listened for +the first time to the superlative Imperialism of the Protestant Unionist +party when he attended the prayer-meeting to which he had been invited. +The room was well filled with students, who joined heartily in the +singing of ‘Onward, Christian soldiers,’ a hymn selected as appropriate +for the occasion. An address by the chairman, a Dublin clergyman, +followed. According to this gentleman the Boers were a psalm-singing +but hypocritical nation addicted to slave-driving. England, on the +other hand, was the pioneer of civilization, and the nursing-mother of +missionary enterprise. It was therefore clear that all good Christians +ought to pray for the success of the British arms. The speech bewildered +rather than irritated Hyacinth. The mind gasps for a time when immersed +suddenly in an entirely new view of things, and requires time to adjust +itself for pleasure or revolt, just as the body does when plunged into +cold water. It had never previously occurred to him that an Irishman +could regard England as anything but a pirate. Anger rapidly succeeded +his surprise while he listened to the prayers which followed. It was +apparently open to any student present to give utterance, as occasion +offered, to his desires, and a large number of young men availed +themselves of the opportunity. Some spoke briefly and haltingly, some +laboriously attempted to adapt the phraseology of the Prayer-Book to the +sentiment of the moment, a few had the gift of rapid and even eloquent +supplication. These last were the hardest to endure. They prefaced their +requests with fantastic eulogies of England’s righteousness, designed +apparently for the edification of the audience present in the flesh, for +they invariably began by assuring the Almighty that He was well aware +of the facts, and generally apologized to Him for recapitulating +them. Hyacinth’s anger increased as he heard the fervent groans which +expressed the unanimous conviction of the justice of the petitions. No +one seemed to think it possible that the right could be on the other +side. + +When the meeting was over, the secretary, whose name, it appeared, was +Mackenzie, greeted Hyacinth warmly. + +‘Glad to have you with us,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll always come. I shall +be delighted to propose you as a member of the union. Subscription +one shilling, to defray necessary expenses. In any case, whether you +subscribe or not, we shall be glad to have you with us.’ + +‘I shall never come again,’ said Hyacinth. + +Mackenzie drew back, astonished. + +‘Why not? Didn’t you like the meeting? I thought it was capital--so +informal and hearty. Didn’t you think it was hearty? But perhaps you are +High Church. Are you?’ + +Hyacinth remembered that this identical question had been put to him the +day before by the pimply-faced boy who distributed leaflets. He wondered +vaguely at the importance which attached to the nickname. + +‘I am not sure,’ he said, ‘that I quite know what you mean. You see, I +have only just entered the divinity school, and I hardly know anything +about theology. What is a High Churchman?’ + +‘Oh, it doesn’t require any theology to know that. It’s the simplest +thing in the world. A High Churchman is--well, of course, a High +Churchman sings Gregorian chants, you know, and puts flowers on +the altar. There’s more than that, of course. In fact, a High +Churchman------’ He paused and then added with an air of victorious +conviction: ‘But anyhow if you were High Church you would be sure to +know it.’ + +‘Ah, well,’ said Hyacinth, turning to leave the room, ‘I don’t know +anything about it, so I suppose I’m not High Church.’ + +Mackenzie, however, was not going to allow him to escape so easily. + +‘Hold on a minute. If you’re not High Church why won’t you come to our +meetings?’ + +‘Because I can’t join in your prayers when I am not at all sure that +England ought to win.’ + +‘Good Lord!’ said Mackenzie. It is possible to startle even the +secretary of a prayer union into mild profanity. ‘You don’t mean to tell +me you are a Pro-Boer, and you a divinity student?’ + +It had not hitherto struck Hyacinth that it was impossible to combine a +sufficient orthodoxy with a doubt about the invariable righteousness of +England’s quarrels. Afterwards he came to understand the matter better. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Mackenzie was not at heart an ill-natured man, and he would have +repudiated with indignation the charge of being a mischief-maker. He +felt after his conversation with Hyacinth much as most men would if they +discovered an unsuspected case of small-pox among their acquaintances. +His first duty was to warn the society in which he moved of the +existence of a dangerous man, a violent and wicked rebel. He repeated +a slightly exaggerated version of what Hyacinth had said to everyone +he met. The pleasurable sense of personal importance which comes with +having a story to tell grew upon him, and he spent the greater part +of the day in seeking out fresh confidants to swell the chorus of his +commination. + +In England at the time public opinion was roused to a fever heat of +patriotic enthusiasm, and the Irish Protestant Unionists were eager to +outdo even the music-halls in Imperialist sentiment, the students of +Trinity College being then, as ever, the ‘death or glory’ boys of +Irish loyalty. It is easy to imagine how Hyacinth’s name was whispered +shudderingly in the reading-room of the library, how his sentiments were +anathematized in the dining-hall at commons, how plots were hatched for +the chastisement of his iniquity over the fire in the evenings, when +pipes were lit and tea was brewed. + +At the end of the week Hyacinth was in an exceedingly uncomfortable +position. Outside the lecture-rooms nobody would speak to him. Inside he +found himself the solitary occupant of the bench he sat on--a position +of comparative physical comfort, for the other seats were crowded, but +not otherwise desirable. A great English poet had just composed a poem, +which a musician, no doubt equally eminent, had set to a noble tune. +It embodied an appeal for funds for purposes not clearly specified, and +hazarded the experiment of rhyming ‘cook’s son’ with ‘Duke’s son,’ which +in less fervent times might have provoked the criticism of the captious. +It became the fashion in college to chant this martial ode whenever +Hyacinth was seen approaching. It was thundered out by a choir who +marched in step up and down his staircase. Bars of it were softly +hummed in his ear while he tried to note the important truths which +the lecturers impressed upon their classes. One night five musicians +relieved each other at the task of playing the tune on a concertina +outside his door. They commenced briskly at eight o’clock in the +evening, and the final sleepy version only died away at six the next +morning. + +Dr. Henry, who either did not know or chose to ignore the state of +the students’ feelings, advised Hyacinth to become a member of the +Theological Debating Society. The election to membership, he said, was +a mere form, and nobody was ever excluded. Hyacinth sent his name to +the secretary, and was blackbeaned by an overwhelming majority of the +members. Shortly afterwards the Lord-lieutenant paid a visit to the +college, and the students seized the chance of displaying their loyalty +to the Throne and Constitution. They assembled outside the library, +which the representative of Queen Victoria was inspecting under the +guidance of the Provost and two of the senior Fellows. It is the nature +of the students of Trinity College to shout while they wait for the +development of interesting events, and on this occasion even the library +walls were insufficient to exclude the noise. The excellent nobleman +inside found himself obliged to cast round for original remarks about +the manuscript of the ‘Book of Kells,’ while the air was heavy with the +verses which commemorate the departure of ‘fifty thousand fighting men’ +to Table Bay. When at length he emerged on the library steps the tune +changed, as was right and proper, to ‘God save the Queen.’ Strangely +enough, Hyacinth had never before heard the national anthem. It is not +played or sung often by the natives of Connemara, and although the ocean +certainly forms part of the British Empire, the Atlantic waves have +not yet learned to beat out this particular melody. So it happened +that Hyacinth, without meaning to be offensive, omitted the ceremony of +removing his hat. A neighbour, joyful at the opportunity, snatched the +offending garment, and skimmed it far over the heads of the crowd. A few +hard kicks awakened Hyacinth more effectually to a sense of his crime, +and it was with a torn coat and many bruises that he escaped in the end +to the shelter of his rooms, less inclined to be loyal than when he left +them. + +After a few weeks it became clear that the British armies in South +Africa were not going to reap that rich and unvarying crop of victories +which the valour of the soldiers and the ability of the generals +deserved. The indomitable spirit of the great nation rose to the +occasion, and the position of those who entertained doubts about the +justice of the original quarrel became more than ever unbearable. +Hyacinth took to wandering by himself through parts of the city in which +he was unlikely to meet any of his fellow-students. His soul grew bitter +within him. The course of petty persecution to which he was subjected +hardened his original sentimental sympathy with the Boer cause into a +clearly defined hatred of everything English. When he got clear of the +college and the hateful sound of the ‘cook’s son, Duke’s son’ tune, he +tramped along, gloating quietly over the news of the latest ‘regrettable +incident.’ + +He was very lonely and friendless, for not even the discomfiture of his +enemies can make up to a young man for the want of a friend to speak to. +An inexpressible longing for home came over him. There was a shop in a +by-street which exposed photographs of Galway scenery in its windows for +a time. Hyacinth used to go day by day to gaze at them. The modest front +of the Gaelic League Hyce was another haunt of his. He used to stand +Debating his eyes on the Irish titles of the books in the window, and +repeating the words he read aloud to himself until the passers-by turned +to look at him. Once he entered a low-browed, dingy shop merely because +the owner’s name was posted over the door in Gaelic characters. It was +one of those shops to be found in the back streets of most large towns +which devote themselves to a composite business, displaying newspapers, +apples, tobacco, and sweets for sale. The afternoon light, already +growing feeble in the open air, had almost deserted the interior of +the shop. At first Hyacinth saw nothing but an untidy red-haired +girl reading in a corner by the light of a candle. He asked her for +cigarettes. She rose, and laid her book and the candle on the counter. +It was one of O’Growney’s Irish primers, dirty and pencilled. Hyacinth’s +heart warmed to her at once. Was she not trying to learn the dear Irish +which the barefooted girls far away at home shouted to each other as +they dragged the seaweed up from the shore? Then from the far end of the +shop he heard a man’s voice speaking Irish. It was not the soft liquid +tongue of the Connaught peasants, but a language more regular and +formal. The man spoke it as if it were a language he had learned, +comparatively slowly and with effort. Yet the sound of it seemed to +Hyacinth one of the sweetest things he had ever heard. Not even the +shrinking self-distrust which he had been taught by repeated snubbings +and protracted ostracism could prevent him from making himself known to +this stranger. + +‘The blessing of God upon Ireland!’ he said. + +There was not a moment’s hesitation on the part of the stranger. The +sound of the Gaelic was enough for him. He stretched out both hands to +Hyacinth. + +‘Is it that you also are one of us--one of the Gaels?’ he asked. +Hyacinth seized the outstretched hands and held them tight. The feeling +of offered friendship and companionship warmed him with a sudden glow. +He felt that his eyes were filling with tears, and that his voice would +break if he tried to speak, but he did not care at all. He poured out a +long Gaelic greeting, scarcely knowing what he said. Perhaps neither +the man whose hands he held nor the owner of the shop behind the counter +fully understood him, but they guessed at his feelings. + +‘Is it that you are a stranger here and lonely? Where is your home? What +name is there on you?’ + +‘Maiseadh, I am a stranger indeed and lonely too,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘You are a stranger no longer, then. We are all of us friends with each +other. You speak our own dear tongue, and that is enough to make us +friends.’ + +The tobacconist, it appeared, also spoke Irish of a kind. He cast +occasional remarks into the conversation which followed, less, it seemed +to Hyacinth, with a view of giving expression to any thought than for +the sake of airing some phrases which he had somewhat inadequately +learned. Indeed, it struck Hyacinth very soon that his new friend was +getting rather out of his depth in his ‘own dear tongue.’ At last the +tobacconist said with a smile: + +‘I’m afraid we must ask Mr. Conneally--didn’t you say that Conneally was +your name?--to speak the Beurla. I’m clean beaten with the Gaelic, and +you can’t go much further yourself, Cahal. Isn’t that the truth, now.’ + +‘And small blame to me,’ said Cahal--in English, Charles--Maguire. +‘After all, what am I but a learner? And it’s clear that Mr. Conneally +has spoken it since ever he spoke at all.’ + +Hyacinth smiled and nodded. Maguire went on: + +‘What are you doing this afternoon? What do you say to coming round with +me to see Mary O’Dwyer? It’s her “at home” day, and I’m just on my way +there.’ + +‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I don’t know her. I can hardly go to her house, +can I?’ + +‘Oh, I’ll introduce you,’ said Maguire cheerfully. ‘She allows me to +bring anyone I like to see her. She likes to know anyone who loves +Ireland and speaks Gaelic. Perhaps we’ll meet Finola too; she’s often +there.’ + +‘Meet who?’ + +‘Finola. That’s what we call Miss Goold--Augusta Goold, you know. We +call her Finola because she shelters the rest of us under her wings when +the Moyle gets tempestuous. You remember the story?’ + +‘Of course I do,’ said Hyacinth, who had learnt the tale of Lir’s +daughter as other children do Jack the Giant-Killer. ‘And who is Miss +O’Dwyer?’ + +‘Oh, she writes verses. Surely you know them?’ + +Hyacinth shook his head. + +‘What a pity! We all admire them immensely. She has something nearly +every week in the _Croppy_. She has just brought out a volume of lyrics. +Her brother worked the publishing of it in New York. He is mixed up with +literary people there. You must have heard of him at all events. He’s +Patrick O’Dwyer, one of the few who stood by O’Neill when he fought the +priests. He gave up the Parliamentary people after that. No honest man +could do anything else.’ + +He conducted Hyacinth to one of the old squares on the north side of the +city. When the tide of fashion set southwards, spreading terraces and +villas from Leeson Street to Killiney, it left behind some of the finest +houses in Dublin. Nowadays for a comparatively low rent it is possible +to live in a splendid house if you do not aspire to the glory of a smart +address. Miss O’Dwyer’s house, for instance, boasted a spacious hall and +lofty sitting-rooms, with impressive ceilings and handsome fireplaces; +yet she paid for it little more than half the rent which a cramped villa +in Clyde Road would have cost her. Even so, it was somewhat of a mystery +to her friends how Miss O’Dwyer managed to live there. A solicitor who +had his offices on the ground-floor probably paid the rent of the whole +house; but the profits of verse-making are small, and a poetess, like +meaner women, requires food, clothes, and fire. Indeed, Miss O’Dwyer, +no longer ‘M. O’D.,’ whose verses adorned the _Croppy_, but ‘Miranda,’ +served an English paper as Irish correspondent. It was a pity that a +pen certainly capable of better things should have been employed +in describing the newest costume of the Lord Lieutenant’s wife at +Punchestown, or the confection of pale-blue tulle which, draped round +Mrs. Chesney, adorned a Castle ball. Miss O’Dwyer herself was heartily +ashamed of the work, but it was, or appeared to her to be, necessary to +live, and even with the aid of occasional remittances from Patrick in +New York, she could scarcely have afforded her friends a cup of tea +without the guineas earned by torturing the English language in a +weekly chronicle of Irish society’s clothes. Even with the help of such +earnings, poverty was for ever tapping her on the shoulder, and no one +except Mary herself and her one maid-servant knew how carefully fire +and light had to be economized in the splendid rooms where an extinct +aristocracy had held revels a century before. + +Hyacinth and his friend advanced past the solicitor’s doors, and up +the broad staircase as far as the drawing-room. For a time they got no +further than the threshold. The opening of the door was greeted with a +long-drawn and emphatic ‘Hush!’ from the company within. Maguire laid +his hand on Hyacinth’s arm, and the two stood still looking into the +room. What was left of the feeble autumn twilight was almost excluded by +half-drawn curtains. No lamp was lit, and the fire cast only fitful rays +here and there through the room. It was with difficulty that Hyacinth +discerned figures in a semicircle, and a slim woman in a white dress +standing apart from the others near the fire. Then he heard a voice, +a singularly sweet voice, as it seemed to him, reciting with steady +emphasis on the syllables which marked the rhythm of the poem: + + ‘Out there in the West, where the heavy gray clouds are + insistent, + Where the sky stoops to gather the earth into mournful + embraces, + Where the country lies saturate, sodden, round saturate + hamlets-- + + ‘Out there in the sunset where rages and surges Atlantic, + And the salt is commingled with rain over desolate beaches, + Thy heart, O beloved, is still beating--fitfully, feebly. + + ‘Is beating--ah! not as it beat in the squadrons of Sarafield, + Exultantly, joyously, gladly, expectant of battle, + With throbs like the notes of the drums when men gather for + fighting. + + ‘Beats still; but, ah! not as it beat in the latest Fitzgerald, + Nobly devote to his race’s most noble tradition; + Or in Emmet or Davis, or, last on their list, in O’Brien. + + ‘Beats fitfully, feebly. O desolate mother! O Erin! + When shall the pulse of thy life, which but flutters in + Connaucht, + Throb through thy meadows and boglands, and mountains and + cities?’ + +A subdued murmur of applause greeted the close of the recitation, and +praise more sincere than that with which politeness generally greets the +drawing-room performances of minor poets. Hyacinth joined in neither. +It seemed to him that the verses were too beautiful to speak about, so +sacred that praise was a kind of sacrilege. Perhaps some excuse may be +found for his emotion in the fact that for weeks he had heard no poetry +except the ode about ‘wiping something off a slate.’ The violence of the +contrast benumbed his critical faculty. So a man who was obliged to gaze +for a long time at the new churches erected in Belfast might afterwards +catch himself in the act of admiring the houses which the Congested +Districts Board builds in Connaught. + +‘I am afraid I must have bored you.’ It was Miss O’Dwyer who greeted +him. ‘I didn’t see you and Mr. Maguire come in until I had commenced my +poor little poem. I ought to have given you some tea before I inflicted +it on you.’ + +‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it was beautiful. Is it really your own? Did you +write it?’ + +Miss O’Dwyer flushed. The vehement sincerity of his tone embarrassed +her, though she was accustomed to praise. + +‘You are very kind,’ she said. ‘All my friends here are far too kind to +me. But come now, I must give you some tea.’ + +The tea was nearly stone cold and weak with frequent waterings. The +saucer and spoon, possibly even the cup, had been used by someone else +before. Mr. Maguire secured for himself the last remaining morsel of +cake, leaving Hyacinth the choice between a gingerbread biscuit and +a torn slice of bread and butter. None of these things appeared to +embarrass Miss O’Dwyer. They did not matter in the least to Hyacinth. + +‘Do you know the West well?’ he asked. + +‘Indeed, I do not. I’ve always longed to go and spend a whole long +summer there, but I’ve never had the chance.’ + +‘Then how did you know it was like that? I mean, how did you catch the +spirit of it in your poem?’ + +‘Did I?’ she said. ‘I am so glad. But I don’t deserve any credit for +it. I wrote those verses after I had been looking at one of Jim Tynan’s +pictures. You know them, of course? No? Oh, but you must go and see them +at once if you love the West. And you do, don’t you?’ + +‘It is my home,’ said Hyacinth. + +When he had finished his tea she introduced him to some of the people +who were in the room. Afterwards he came to know them, but the memories +which Miss O’Dwyer’s verses called up in him made him absent and +preoccupied. He scarcely heard the names she spoke. Soon the party broke +up, and Hyacinth turned to look for Maguire. + +‘I’m afraid Mr. Maguire has gone,’ said Miss O’Dwyer. ‘He has a lecture +to attend this afternoon. You must come here again, Mr. Conneally. Come +next Wednesday--every Wednesday, if you like. We can have a talk about +the West. I shall want you to tell me all sorts of things. Perhaps +Finola will be here next week. She very often comes. I shall look +forward to introducing you to her. You are sure to admire her immensely. +We all do.’ + +‘Yes, I’ve heard of her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘Mr. Maguire told me who she +was.’ + +‘Oh, but he couldn’t have told you half. She is magnificent. All the +rest of us are only little children compared to her. Now be sure you +come and meet her.’ + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Ever since Pitt and Castlereagh perpetrated their Act of Union two +political parties have struggled together in Ireland. Both of them have +been steadily prominent, so prominent that they have sometimes attracted +the attention of the English public, and drawn to their contest a little +quite unintelligent interest. The simplest and most discernible line +of division between them is a religious one. The Protestant party has +hitherto been guided and led by the gentry. It has been steadily loyal +to England and to the English Government. It has not been greatly +concerned about Ireland or Ireland’s welfare, but has been consistently +anxious to preserve its own privileges, powers, and property. It has not +come well out of the struggle of the nineteenth century. Its Church has +been disestablished, its privileges and powers abolished, and the last +remnants of its property are being filched from it. It is a curious +piece of irony that this party should have hastened its own defeat +by the very policy adopted to secure victory. No doubt the Irish +aristocracy would have suffered less if they had been seditious instead +of loyal. The Roman Catholic party has been led by ecclesiastics, and +has always included the bulk of the people. Its leaders have not cared +for the welfare of Ireland any more than the Protestant party, but they +have always pretended that they did, being in this respect much wiser +than their opponents. They have pulled the strings of a whole series of +political movements, and made puppets dance on and off the stage as they +chose. Also they have understood how to deal with England. Unlike the +Protestant party, they have never been loyal, because they knew from the +first that England gives most to those who bully or worry her. They have +kept one object steadily in view, an object quite as selfish in reality +as that of the aristocracy--the aggrandisement of their Church. For +this they have been prepared at any time to sacrifice the interests +of Ireland, and are content at the present moment to watch the country +bleeding to death with entire complacency. The leaders of this party +enter upon the twentieth century in sight of their promised land. They +possess all the power and nearly all the wealth of Ireland. If the +Bishops can secure the continuance of English government for the next +half-century Ireland will have become the Church’s property. Her +money will go to propagating the faith. Her children will supply the +English-speaking world with a superfluity of priests and nuns. + +Outside both parties there have always been a few men united by no ties +of policy or religion, unless, as perhaps we may, we call patriotism +a kind of religion. Other lands have been loved sincerely, devotedly, +passionately, as mothers, wives, and mistresses are loved. Ireland alone +has been loved religiously, as men are taught to love God or the +saints. Her lovers have called themselves Catholic or Protestant: such +distinctions have not mattered to these men. They have scarcely ever +been able to form themselves into a party, never into a strong or a wise +party. They have been violent, desperate, frequently ridiculous, but +always sincere and unselfish. Their great weakness has lain in the fact +that they have had no consistent aim. Some of their leaders have looked +for a return to Ireland’s Constitution, and built upon the watchword of +the volunteers, ‘The King, the Lords, and the Commons of Ireland.’ Some +have dreamed of a complete independence, of an Irish republic shaping +its own world policy. Some have wholly distrusted politics, and given +their strength to the intellectual, spiritual, or material regeneration +of the people. Among these men have been found the sanest practical +reformers and the wildest revolutionary dreamers. On the outskirts of +their company have hung all sorts of people. Parliamentary politicians +have leaned towards them, and been driven straightway out of public +life. Criminals have claimed fellowship with them, and brought +discredit upon honourable men. Poets and men of letters have drawn +their inspiration from their strivings, and in return have decked their +patriotism with imperishable splendour. In the future, no doubt, +the struggle will lie between this party and the hitherto victorious +hierarchy, with England for ally, and the fight seems a wholly unequal +one. It was into an advanced and vehement group of patriots that Mary +O’Dwyer introduced Hyacinth. He became a regular reader of the _Croppy_, +and made the acquaintance of most of the contributors to its pages. He +found them clever, enthusiastic, and agreeable men and women, but, as +he was forced to admit to himself, occasionally reckless. One evening a +discussion took place in Mary O’Dwyer’s room which startled and shocked +him. Excitement ran high over the events of the war. The sympathies +of the ‘Independent Irelanders,’ as they called themselves, fiercely +assertive even in their name, were of course entirely with the Boers, +and they received every report of an English reverse with unmixed +satisfaction. + +When Hyacinth entered the room he found four people there. Mary +O’Dwyer herself was making tea at a little table near the fire. Augusta +Goold--the famous Finola--was stretched in a deep chair smoking +a cigarette. She was a remarkable woman both physically and +intellectually. It was her delight to emphasize her splendid figure +by draping it in brilliant reds and yellows. To anyone who cared to +speculate on such a subject it seemed a mystery why her clothes remained +on her when she walked. The laws of gravity seemed to demand that they +should loosen with her movements, become detached, and finally drop +down. Nothing of the sort had ever happened, so it must be presumed that +she had secret and unconventional ways of fastening them. Similarly it +was not easy to see why her hair stayed upon her head. It was arranged +upon no recognised system, and suggested that she had perfected the art, +known generally only to heroines of romances, of twisting her tresses +with a single movement into a loose knot. That she affected white frills +of immense complexity was frequently evident, owing to the difficulty +she experienced in confining her long legs to feminine attitudes. +Her complexion put it in the power of her enemies to accuse her of +familiarity with cosmetics--a slander, for she had been observed to turn +green during an attack of sea-sickness. She had great brilliant eyes, +which were capable of expressing intensity of enthusiasm or hatred, +but no one had ever seen them soften with any emotion like love. Her +attitude towards social conventions was symbolized by her clothes. In +the old days, when the houses of ‘society’ had still been open to her, +she was accustomed to challenge criticism by fondling a pet monkey +at tea-parties. Since she had lost caste by taking up the cause of +‘Independent Ireland’ the ape had been discarded, and the same result +achieved by occasional bickerings with the police. She was an able +public speaker, and could convince her audiences for a time of the +reasonableness of opinions which next morning appeared to be the outcome +of delirium. She wrote, not, like Mary O’Dwyer, verse in which any +sentiment may be excused, but incisive and vigorous prose. Occasionally +even the Castle officials got glimmerings of the meaning of one of her +articles, and suppressed the whole issue of the _Croppy_ in which it +appeared. + +Near her sat a much less remarkable person--Thomas Grealy, historian +and archaeologist. He had been engaged for many years on a history of +Ireland, but no volume of it had as yet appeared. His friends suspected +that he had got permanently stuck somewhere about the period of the +introduction of Christianity into the island. His essays, published in +the _Croppy_, dwelt with passionate regret on the departed glories +of Tara. He held strong views about the historical reality of the +Tuath-de-Danaan, and got irritated at the most casual mention of Dr. +Petrie’s theory of the round towers. He had proved that King Arthur +was an Irishman, with whose reputation Malory and Tennyson had taken +unwarrantable liberties. The name of Dante brought a smile of contempt +to his lips, for he knew that the ‘Purgatorio’ was stolen shamelessly +from the works of a monk of Cong. He nourished a secret passion for +Finola. He never ventured to declare it, but his imagination endowed +every heroine, from Queen Maev down to the foster daughter of the +Leinster farmer who married King Cormac, with Miss Goold’s figure, eyes +and hair. It was perhaps the burning of this passion which rendered him +so cadaverous that his clothes--in other respects also they looked as +if they had been bought in far-off happier days--hung round him like the +covering of a broken-ribbed umbrella. + +The fourth person present was Timothy Halloran, who hovered about Mary +O’Dwyer’s tea-table. He was what the country people call a ‘spoilt +priest.’ Destined by simple and pious parents to take Holy Orders, he +got as far as the inside of Maynooth College. While there he had kicked +a fellow-student down the whole length of a long corridor for telling +tales to the authorities. A committee of ecclesiastics considered the +case, and having come to the conclusion that he lacked vocation for +the priesthood, sent him home. Timothy was accustomed to say that his +violence might have been passed over, but that his failure to appreciate +the devotion to duty which inspired the tale-bearer marked him +decisively as unfit for ordination. He never regretted his expulsion, +although he complained bitterly that he had been nearly choked before +they cast him out. He meant, it is to be supposed, that the effort to +instil a proper reverence for dogma had almost destroyed his capacity +for thought, not that the fingers of the reverend professors had +actually closed around his windpipe. His subsequent experiences had +included a period of teaching in an English Board School, a brief, but +not wholly unsatisfactory, career as a political organizer in New +York, and a return to Ireland, where he earned a precarious living as a +journalist. + +All four greeted Hyacinth warmly as he entered the room. + +‘We were just discussing,’ said Mary O’Dwyer, ‘the failure of our +attempt to organize a field hospital and a staff of nurses for the +Boers. It is a shame to have to admit that the English garrison in +Ireland can raise thousands of pounds for their war funds, and the Irish +can’t be got to subscribe a few hundreds.’ + +‘The wealth of the country,’ said Grealy, ‘is in the hands of a +minority--the so-called Loyalists.’ + +‘Nonsense,’ said Finola sharply. ‘If you ever gave a thought to anything +more recent than the High-King’s Court at Tara you would know that the +landlords are not the wealthy part of the community any longer. There’s +many a provincial publican calling himself a Nationalist who could buy +up the nearest landlord and every Protestant in the parish along with +him. I’m a Protestant myself, born and bred among the class you speak +of, and I know.’ + +‘You’re quite right, Miss Goold,’ said Tim. ‘The people could have given +the money if they liked. I attribute the failure of the fund to the +apathy or treachery of the priests, call it which you like. There isn’t +a Protestant church in the country where the parsons don’t preach “Give +give, give” to their people Sunday after Sunday. And what’s the result? +Why, they have raised thousands of pounds.’ + +‘After the poem you published in last week’s _Croppy_,’ said Hyacinth +to Mary O’Dwyer, ‘I made sure the subscriptions would have come in. Your +appeal was one of the most beautiful things I ever read. It would have +touched the heart of a stone.’ + +‘Poetry is all well enough,’ said Tim. ‘I admire your verses, Mary, +as much as anyone, but we want a collection at every church door after +Mass. That’s what we ought to have, but it’s exactly what we won’t get, +because the priests are West Britons at heart. They would pray for the +Queen and the army to-morrow, like Cardinal Vaughan, if they weren’t +afraid.’ + +‘I believe,’ said Finola, ‘that we went the wrong way about the thing +altogether. We asked for a hospital, and we appealed to the people’s +pity for the wounded Boers. Nobody in Ireland cares a pin about +the Boers. Why on earth should we? From all I can hear they are a +narrow-minded, intolerant set of hypocrites. I’d just as soon read the +stuff some fool of an English newspaper man wrote about “our brother the +Boer” as listen to the maudlin sentiment our people talk. We don’t want +to help the Boers. We want to hurt the English.’ + +‘And you think----’ said Grealy. + +‘I think,’ went on Finola, ‘that we ought to have asked for volunteers +to go out and fight, instead of nurses to cocker up the men who are +fools enough to get themselves shot. We’d have got them.’ + +‘You would not,’ said Tim. ‘The clergy would have been dead against you. +They would have nipped the whole project in the bud without so much as +making a noise in doing it.’ + +‘That’s true,’ said Grealy. ‘Remember, Miss Goold, it was the priests +who cursed Tara, and the monks who broke the power of the Irish Kings. I +haven’t worked the thing out yet, but I mean to show----’ + +Finola interrupted the poor man ruthlessly: + +‘Let’s try it, anyway. Let’s preach a crusade.’ + +‘Not the least bit of good,’ said Tim. ‘Every blackguard in the country +is enlisted already in the Connaught Bangers or the Dublin Fusiliers, +or some confounded Militia regiment. There’s nobody left but the nice, +respectable, goody-goody boys who wouldn’t leave their mothers or miss +going to confession if you went down on your knees to them.’ + +‘Well, then, the Irish troops ought to shoot their officers, and walk +over to the Boer camp,’ said Finola savagely. + +Hyacinth half smiled at what seemed to him a monstrous jest. Then, when +he perceived that she was actually in earnest, the smile froze into a +kind of grin. His hands trembled with the violence of his indignation. + +‘It would be devilish treachery,’ he blurted out. ‘The name of Irishman +will never be disgraced by such an act.’ + +Augusta Goold flung her cigarette into the grate, and rose from her +chair. She stood over Hyacinth, her hands clenched and her bosom heaving +rapidly. Her eyes blazed down into his until their scorn cowed him. + +‘There is no treachery possible for an Irishman,’ she said, ‘except +the one of fighting for England. Any deed against England--yes, _any_ +deed--is glorious, and not shameful.’ + +Hyacinth was utterly quelled. He ventured upon no reply. Indeed, not +only did her violence render argument undesirable--and it seemed for +the moment that he would find himself in actual grips with a furious +Amazon--but her words carried with them a certain conviction. It +actually seemed to him while she spoke as if a good defence might be +made for Irish soldiers who murdered their officers and deserted to an +enemy in the field. It was not until hours afterwards, when the vivid +impression of Finola’s face had faded from his recollection, when he had +begun to forget the flash of her eyes, the poise of her figure, and the +glow of her draperies, that his moral sense was able to reassert itself. +Then he knew that she had spoken wickedly. It might be right for an +Irishman to fight against England when he could. It might be justifiable +to seize the opportunity of England’s embarrassment to make a bid for +freedom by striking a blow at the Empire. So far his conscience went +willingly, but that treachery and murder could ever be anything but +horrible he refused altogether to believe. + +Another conversation in which he took part about this time helped +Hyacinth still further to understand the position of his new friends. +Tim Halloran and he were smoking and chatting together over the fire +when Maguire joined them. + +‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Halloran. ‘You look as if you’d been +at your mother’s funeral.’ + +‘You’re not so far out in your guess,’ said Maguire grimly. ‘I spent the +morning at my sister’s wedding. Would you like a bit of the cake?’ He +produced from his pocket a paper containing crushed fragments of white +sugar and a shapeless mass of citron and currants. ‘With the compliments +of the Reverend Mother,’ he said. ‘Try a bit.’ + +‘What on earth do you mean?’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Oh, I assure you the Sisters of Pity do these things in style,’ said +Maguire. ‘It’s a pretty fancy, that of the wedding-cake, isn’t it? +But you’re a Protestant, Conneally; you don’t understand this delicate +playfulness. I was present to-day at the reception of my only sister +into the Institute of the Catholic Sisters of Pity, founded by Honoria +Kavanagh. I’ve lost Birdie Maguire, that’s all, the little girl that +used to climb on to my knee and kiss me, and instead of her there’s a +Sister Monica Mary, who will no doubt pray for my soul when she’s let.’ + +‘What was the figure in her case?’ asked Tim in a perfectly +matter-of-fact tone. + +‘Six hundred pounds,’ said Maguire. ‘It must have put the old man to the +pin of his collar to pay it. The only time he ever talked to me about +his affairs he told me he had got four hundred pounds put by for +Birdie’s fortune, and that I was to have my medical course and whatever +the old shop would fetch when he was gone. They must have put the screw +on pretty tight to make him spring the extra two hundred. I dare say I +shall suffer for it in the end. He must have borrowed the money.’ + +Hyacinth felt intensely curious about this young nun. Like most +Protestants he had grown up to regard monasticism in all its forms as +something remote, partly horrible, wholly unintelligible. + +‘Why did she do it?’ he asked. ‘What sort of a girl was she? Do you mind +telling me?’ + +‘Not in the least,’ said Maguire. ‘Only I’m not sure that I know. Three +years ago--that is, when I left home--she was the last sort of girl you +could imagine going into a convent. She was pretty, fond of nice clothes +and admiration, as keen as every girl ought to be on a dance. I never +supposed she had a thought of religion in her head--I mean, beyond the +usual confessions and attendances at Mass.’ + +‘I suppose,’ said Hyacinth, ‘your people wanted it.’ + +‘I don’t think so,’ said Maguire. ‘Perhaps my mother did. I don’t know.’ + +‘You see, Conneally,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘it is a sort of hall-mark +of respectability among people like Maguire’s to have a girl in a good +convent. A little lower down in the social scale, in the class I come +from, the boys are made priests. A doctor is a more expensive article to +manufacture, so Maguire’s father selected that line of life for him. Not +that they could have made a priest of you, Maguire, in any case. You’d +have disgraced Maynooth, as I did.’ + +‘I don’t understand,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I thought a vocation for the life +was necessary.’ + +‘Oh, so it is,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘but, you see, there’s the period of +the novitiate. Given a girl at an impressionable age, the proper convent +atmosphere, and a prize of six hundred pounds for the Order, and it +will go hard with the Reverend Mother if she can’t work the girl up to +a vocation. It takes a man a lifetime to make six hundred pounds in +a country shop, but there’s many a one who does it by hard work and +self-denial; then down come the nuns and sweep it away, and it’s +wasted. It ought to be invested in a local factory or in waterworks, or +gas-works, or fifty other things that would benefit the town it’s made +in. It ought to be fructifying and bearing interest; instead of which +off it goes to Munich for stained glass, or to Italy for a marble altar. +Is it any wonder Ireland is crying out with poverty?’ + +‘Yes,’ said Maguire, ‘and that’s not the worst of it. I’d be content to +let them take the damned money and deck their churches with it, but the +girls--there are hundreds of them caught every year for nuns, and swept +out of life. It isn’t the Irish convents alone that get them. American +nuns come over and Australian nuns, and they go round and round the +country picking up girls here and there, and carry them off. There, +I don’t want to talk too much about it. The money is nothing, but the +girls and boys----’ + +‘It seems strange to me,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that when you think that way +you should go on belonging to your Church.’ + +‘Desert the Church!’ said Maguire. ‘We’ll never do that. How could we +live without religion? And what other religion is there? I grant you +that your priests wouldn’t rob us, but--but think of the cold of it. +You can’t realize it, Conneally, but think what it would mean to +a Catholic--a religion without saints, without absolution, without +sacrifice. Besides, what we complain of is not Catholicism. It’s a +parasitic growth destroying the true faith, defiling the Church.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘and even from my point of view how should we +be the better of a change? Your Church is ruled by old women who think +the name of Englishman the most glorious in the world. You preach +loyalty, and I believe you pray for the Queen in your services. A nice +fool I would feel praying that the Queen should have victory over her +enemies.’ + +For a long time afterwards this conversation dwelt in Hyacinth’s mind. +Tim Halloran he knew to be practically a freethinker, but Maguire +regularly heard Mass on Sundays, and often went to confession. It was a +puzzle how he could do so, feeling as he did about the religious Orders. +So insistent did the problem become to his mind that he found himself +continually leading the conversation round to it from one side or +another. Mary O’Dwyer told him that she also had a sister in a nunnery. + +‘She teaches girls to make lace, and wonderful work they do. She is +perfectly happy. I think her face is the sweetest and most beautiful +thing I have ever seen. There is not a line on it of care or of +fretfulness. It seems to me as if her whole life might be described as +a quiet smile. I always feel better by the mere recollection of her face +for a long time after I have visited her. Oh, I know it wouldn’t do +for me. I couldn’t stand it for a week. I should go mad with the quiet +restraint of it all. But my sister is happy. I can’t forget that. I +suppose she has a vocation.’ + +‘Vocation,’ said Hyacinth thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I can understand how that +would make all the difference. But how many of them have the vocation?’ + +‘Don’t you think vocation might be learnt? I mean mightn’t one grow into +it, if one wished to very much, and if the life was constantly before +one’s eyes, beautiful and calm?’ + +It was almost the same thought which Timothy Halloran had suggested. +Mary O’Dwyer spoke of growing into vocation, Tim of the working of it +up. Was there any difference except a verbal one? + +On another occasion he spoke to Dr. Henry about the position of the +Church of Ireland in the country. + +‘We have proved,’ said the professor, ‘that the Roman claims have no +support in Scripture, history, or reason. Our books remain unanswered, +because they are unanswerable. We can do no more.’ + +‘We might offer the Irish people a Church which they could join,’ said +Hyacinth. + +‘We do. We offer them the Church of St. Patrick, the ancient, historic +Church of Ireland. We offer them the two Sacraments of the Gospel, +administered by priests duly ordained at the hands of an Episcopate +which goes back in an unbroken line to the Apostles. We present them the +three great creeds for their assent. We use a liturgy that is at once +ancient and pure. The Church of Ireland has all this, is beyond dispute +a branch of the great Catholic Church of Christ.’ + +‘It may be all you say,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but it is not national. In +sentiment and sympathy it is English and not Irish.’ + +‘I know what you mean,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I think I understand how you +feel, but I cannot consent to the conclusion you want to draw. There +is no real meaning in the cry for nationality. It is a sentiment, a +fashion, and will pass. Even if it were genuine and enduring, I hold it +to be better for Ireland to be an integral part of a great Empire than a +contemptible and helpless item among the nations of the world, a prey to +the intrigues of ambitious foreign statesmen.’ + +Hyacinth sighed and turned to go, but Dr. Henry laid a hand upon his +shoulder and detained him. + +‘Conneally,’ he said kindly, ‘let me give you a word of advice. Don’t +mix yourself up with your new friends too much. You will ruin your own +prospects in life if you do. There is nothing more fatal to a man among +the people with whom you and I are to live and work than the suspicion +of being tainted with Nationalist ideas. You can’t be both a rebel and +a clergyman. You see,’ he added with a smile, ‘I take enough interest in +you to know who your friends are, and what you are thinking about.’ + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Augusta Goold’s scheme for enrolling Irish volunteers to help the Boers +was duly set forth in the next issue of the _Croppy_. It included two +appeals--one for money and one for men. The details were worked out +with the frank contempt for possibility which characterizes some of the +famous suggestions of Dean Swift. She had the same faculty that he had +for bringing absurdities within the range of the commonplace; but there +was this difference between them--Miss Goold quite believed in her own +plans, while the great Dean no doubt grinned over the proof-sheets of +his ‘Modest Proposal.’ + +It happened, most unfortunately, that the appeal synchronized with +another, also for funds, which was issued by Mr. O’Rourke, the leader +of the Parliamentary party. Since the death of John O’Neill the purse +of the party had been getting lean. The old tactics which used to draw +plaudits and dollars from the United States, as well as a tribute from +every parish in Ireland, had lately been unsuccessful. There were still +violent scenes in the House of Commons, but they no longer produced +anything except contemptuous smiles. Members of Parliament still +succeeded occasionally in getting the Chief Secretary to imprison them, +but the glory of martyrdom was harder to win than in the old days. +Latterly things had come to such a pass that even the reduced stipends +offered to the members fell into arrear. The attendance at Westminster +dropped away. The Government could afford to smile at Mr. O’Rourke’s +efforts to make himself disagreeable, and the Opposition were frankly +contemptuous of a people who could not profit them by more than a dozen +votes in a critical division. It became impossible to wring even a +modest Land Bill from the Prime Minister, and Mr. Chesney, now much at +ease in the Secretary’s office in the Castle, scarcely felt it necessary +to be civil to deputations which wanted railways. It was clear that +something must be done, or Mr. O’Rourke’s business would disappear. +He decided to appeal for funds _orbi et urbi_. The world--in this case +North America--was to be visited, exhorted, and, it was hoped, taxed by +some of his most eloquent lieutenants. Even Canada, with its leaven +of Orangemen, was to be honoured with the speeches of an orator of +second-rate powers. The city--Dublin, of course--was the chosen scene of +the leader’s personal exertions. Since his revolt against John O’Neill, +O’Rourke had been a little shy of Dublin audiences, but the pressing +nature of the present crisis almost forced him to pay his court to the +capital. He found some comfort in the recollection that during the five +years that had elapsed since O’Neill’s death he had missed no public +opportunity of shedding tears beside his tomb. He remembered, too, that +he had put his name down for a large subscription towards the erection +of a statue to the dead leader, a work of art which the existing +generation seemed unlikely to have the pleasure of seeing. + +Thus it happened that on the very day of the publication of Miss Goold’s +scheme Mr. O’Rourke announced his intention of addressing an appeal for +funds to a public meeting in the Rotunda. Miss Goold was disconcerted +and irritated. She was well aware that Mr. O’Rourke’s appeal would give +the respectable Nationalists an excellent excuse for ignoring hers, and +unfortunately the respectable people are just the ones who have most +money. She was confident that she could rely on the extreme section of +the Nationalists, and on that element in the city population which loves +and makes a row, but she could not count on the moneyed classes. They +were, so far as their words went, very enthusiastic for the Boer +cause; but when it came to writing cheques, it was likely that the +counter-attractions of the Parliamentary fund would prove too strong. + +Since it seemed that Mr. O’Rourke would certainly spoil her collection, +the obvious thing to do was to try to spoil his. If he afforded people +an excuse for not paying the travelling expenses of her volunteers to +Lorenzo Marques, she would, if possible, suggest a way of escape from +paying for his men’s journeys to London. After all, no one really wanted +to subscribe to either fund, and it might be supposed that the public +would very gladly keep their purses shut altogether. + +For an Irishman it is quite possible to be genuinely enthusiastic and at +the same time able to see the humorous side of his own enthusiasm. This +is a reason why an Irishman is never a bore unless, to gain his private +ends, he wants to be. Even an Irish advocate of total abstinence, or an +Irish antivaccinationist, if such a thing exists, is not a bore, +because he will always trot out his conscientious objections with a +half-humorous, half-deprecating smile. This same capacity for avoiding +the slavery of serious fanaticism enables an Irishman to cease quite +joyfully from the pursuit of his own particular fad in order to corner +an obnoxious opponent. Thus Augusta Goold and her friends were genuinely +desirous of striking a blow at England, and really believed that their +volunteers might do it; but this did not prevent them from finding +infinite relish in the prospect of watching Mr. O’Rourke squirming on +the horns of a dilemma. They took counsel together, and the result of +their deliberations was peculiar. They proposed to invite Mr. O’Rourke +to join his appeal to theirs, to pool the money which came in, and to +divide it evenly between the volunteers and the members of Parliament. +It was Tim Halloran who hit upon the brilliant idea. Augusta Goold +chuckled over it as she grasped its consequences. Mr. O’Rourke, Tim +argued, would be unwilling to accept the proposal because he wanted all +the money he could get, more than was at all likely to be collected. +He would be equally unwilling to reject it, because he could then be +represented as indifferent to the heroic struggle of the Boers. In +the existing state of Irish and American opinion a suspicion of such +indifference would be quite sufficient to wreck his chances of getting +any money at all. + +Of course, the obvious way of making such a proposal would have been by +letter to Mr. O’Rourke. Afterwards the correspondence--he must make a +reply of some sort--could be sent to the press, and sufficient publicity +would be given to the matter. This was what Tim Halloran wanted to do, +but such a course did not commend itself to Augusta Goold. It lacked +dramatic possibilities, and there was always the chance that the leading +papers might refuse to take any notice of the matter, or relegate +the letters to a back page and small print. Besides, a mere newspaper +controversy would not make a strong appeal to the section of the Dublin +populace on whose support she chiefly relied. A much more attractive +plan suggested itself. Augusta Goold, with a few friends to act as +aides-de-camp, would present herself to Mr. O’Rourke at his Rotunda +meeting, and put the proposal to him then and there in the presence of +the audience. + +In the meantime the few days before the meeting were occupied in +scattering suggestive seed over the hoardings and blank walls of the +city. One morning people were startled by the sight of an immense +placard which asked in violent red letters, ‘What is Ireland going +to do?’ Public opinion was divided about the ultimate purpose of the +poster. The majority expected the announcement of a new play or novel; +a few held that a pill or a cocoa would be recommended. Next morning the +question became more explicit, and the hypothesis of the play and the +pill were excluded. ‘What,’ the new poster ran, ‘is Ireland going to do +for the Boers?’ The public were not intensely anxious to find an answer +to the conundrum thrust thus forcibly on their attention, but they +became curious to know who the advertisers were who hungered for the +information. Men blessed by Providence with sagacious-looking faces made +the most of their opportunity, and informed their friends that the thing +was a new dodge of O’Rourke’s to get money. Their reputation suffered +when the next placard appeared. The advertisers had apparently changed +their minds, for what they now wanted to know was, ‘What are the Irish +M.P.’s going to do for the Boers?’ Clearly Mr. O’Rourke could have +nothing to gain by insisting on an answer to such a question. The public +were puzzled but pleased. The bill-stickers of the city foresaw +the possibility of realizing a competence, for the next morning the +satisfied inquirers published the result of their investigations. ‘The +Em Pees ‘(it was thus that they now referred to the honourable members +of Parliament) ‘are supporting the infamies of England.’ It was at +this point that the eye of a Castle official was caught by one of the +placards as he made his way to the Kildare Street Club for luncheon. +He discussed the matter with a colleague, and it occurred to them that +since they were paid for governing Ireland, they ought to give the +public some value for their money, and seize the opportunity of doing +something. They sent a series of telegrams to Mr. Chesney’s London +house, which were forwarded by his private secretary to the Riviera. +The replies which followed kept the Castle officials in a state of +pleasurable excitement until quite late in the evening. At about eight +o’clock large numbers of Metropolitan police sallied out of their +barracks and tore down the last batch of placards. Next morning fresh +ones were posted up, each of which bore the single word, ‘Why?’ The +bill-stickers were highly pleased, and many of them were arrested for +drunkenness. Mr. O’Rourke was much less pleased, for he began to guess +what the answer was likely to be, and how it would affect his chances of +securing a satisfactory collection. The officials were perplexed. They +suspected the ‘Why?’ of containing within its three letters some hideous +sedition, but it was not possible to deal vigorously with what might, +after all, be only the cunning novelty of some advertising manufacturer. +More telegrams harried Mr. Chesney, but before any definite course of +action had been decided on the morning of the Rotunda meeting arrived, +and with it an answer to the multifarious ‘Whys’: Because O’Rourke wants +all the money to spend in the London restaurants.’ There was a great +deal of laughter, and many people, quite uninterested in politics, +determined to go to the meeting in hopes of more amusement. + +When Mr. O’Rourke took the chair the hall was crowded to its utmost +capacity. Under ordinary circumstances this would have augured well for +the success of his appeal, for it showed that the public were at all +events not apathetic. On this particular occasion, however, Mr. O’Rourke +would have been better pleased with a smaller audience. The placards +had shown him that something unpleasant was likely to occur, though they +afforded no hint of the form which the unpleasantness would take. When +he rose to his feet he was greeted with the usual volley of cheers, and +although some rude remarks about the Boers were made in the corners of +the hall, they did not amount to anything like an organized attempt at +interruption. He began his speech cautiously, feeling the pulse of +his audience, and plying them with the well-worn platitudes of the +Nationalist platform. When these evoked the usual enthusiasm he waxed +bolder, and shot out some almost original epigrams directed against the +Government, working up to a really new gibe about officials who sat +like spiders spinning murderous webs in Dublin Castle. The audience +were delighted with this, but their joy reached its height when someone +shouted: ‘You might speak better of the men who tore down the placard +on Wednesday.’ Mr. O’Rourke ignored the suggestion, and passed on to +sharpen his wit upon the landlords. He described them as ‘ill-omened +tax-gatherers who suck the life-blood of the country, and refuse to +disgorge a penny of it for any useful purpose.’ Mr. O’Rourke was not a +man who shrank from a mixed metaphor, or paused to consider such trifles +as the unpleasantness which would ensue if anyone who had been sucking +blood were to repent and disgorge it. ‘Where,’ he went on to ask, ‘do +they spend their immense revenues? Is it in Ireland?’ Here he made one +of those dramatic pauses for which his oratory was famous. The audience +waited breathlessly for the denunciation which was to follow. They were +treated, unexpectedly, to a well-conceived anticlimax. A voice spoke +softly, but quite clearly, from the back of the hall: + +‘Bedad, and I shouldn’t wonder if it was in the London restaurants.’ + +A roar of laughter followed. The orator might no doubt have made an +effective reply, but every time he opened his mouth minor wits, rending +like wolves the carcase of the original joke, yelled ‘turtle-soup’ +at him, or ‘champagne and oysters.’ He got angry, and consequently +flurried. He tried to quell the tumult by thundering out the +denunciation which he had prepared. But the delight which the audience +took in shrieking the items of their imaginary bill of fare was too much +for him. He forgot what he had meant to say, floundered, attempted to +pull himself together, and brought out the stale jest about providing +each landlord with a single ticket to Holyhead. + +‘And that same,’ said his original tormentor, ‘would be cheaper than +giving you a return ticket to London.’ + +The audience was immensely tickled. So far the entertainment, if not +precisely novel, was better than anything they had hoped for, and +everyone had an agreeable conviction that there was still something +in the way of a sensation in store. Perhaps it was eagerness for the +expected climax which induced them to keep tolerably quiet during the +remainder of Mr. O’Rourke’s speech. He set forth at some length the +glorious achievements of his party in the past, and explained the +opportunities of future usefulness which lay to be grasped if only the +necessary funds were provided. He sat down to make way, as he assured +the audience, for certain tried and trusty soldiers of the cause who +were waiting to propose important resolutions. So far as these +warriors were concerned, he might as well have remained standing. Their +resolutions are to this day unproposed and uncommended--a secret joy, +no doubt, to those who framed them, but not endorsed by any popular +approval. + +Hyacinth Conneally was not admitted to the secret councils of Augusta +Goold and her friends. He knew no more than the general public what kind +of a coup was meditated, but he gathered from Miss O’Dwyer’s nervous +excitement and Tim Halloran’s air of immense and mysterious importance +that something quite out of the common was likely to occur. By arriving +an hour and a half before the opening of the meeting he secured a seat +near the platform. He enjoyed the discomfiture of O’Rourke, whom he had +learnt from the pages of the _Croppy_ to despise as a mere windbag, and +to hate as the betrayer of O’Neill. A sudden thrill of excitement went +through him when O’Rourke sat down. The whole audience turned their +faces from the platform towards the door at the far end of the hall, and +Hyacinth, without knowing exactly what he expected, turned too. +There was a swaying visible among the crowd near the door, and almost +immediately it became clear that someone was trying to force a way +through the densely-packed people. Curses were to be heard, and even +cries from those who were being trodden on. At last a way was made. +Augusta Goold, followed by Grealy, Halloran, and Mary O’Dwyer, came +slowly up the hall towards the platform. Those of the audience whose +limbs had not been crushed or their feet mangled in preparation for her +progress cheered her wildly. Indeed, she made a regal appeal to them. +Even amidst a crowd of men her height made her conspicuous, and she had +arrayed herself for the occasion in a magnificent violet robe. It flowed +from her shoulders in spacious folds, and swept behind her, splendidly +contemptuous of the part it played as scavenger amid the accumulated +filth of the floor. Her bare arms shone out of the wide sleeves which +hung around them. Her neck rose strong and stately over the silver clasp +of a cloak which she had thrown back from her shoulders. She wore a hat +which seemed to hold her hair captive from falling loose around her. One +great tress alone escaped from it, and by some cunning manipulation was +made to stand straight out, as if blown by the wind from its fastenings. +In comparison her suite looked commonplace and mean. Poor Miss O’Dwyer +was arrayed--‘gowned,’ she would have said herself in reporting the +scene--in vesture not wanting in splendour, but which beside Miss +Goold’s could not catch the eye. Thomas Grealy, awkward and stooped, +peered through his glasses at the crowd. Tim Halloran walked jauntily, +but his eyes glanced nervously from side to side. He was certainly ill +at ease, possibly frightened, at the position in which he found himself. + +A hurried consultation took place among the gentlemen on the platform, +which ended in Mr. O’Rourke stepping forward with a smile and an +outstretched hand to welcome Augusta Goold as she ascended the steps. +The expression of his face belied the smile which he had impressed upon +his lips. His eyes had the same look of furtive malice as a dog’s +which wants to bite but fears the stick. Augusta Goold waved aside the +proffered hand, and stepped unaided on to the platform. Mr. O’Rourke +placed a chair for her, but she ignored it and stood, with her followers +behind her, facing the audience. O’Rourke and two of his tried and +trusty members of Parliament approached her. They stood between her +and the audience, and talked to her for some time, apparently very +earnestly. Augusta Goold looked past them, over them, sometimes it +seemed through them, while they spoke, but made them no answer whatever. +At last Mr. O’Rourke shrugged his shoulders, and withdrew to his chair +with a sulky scowl. + +‘I wish,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘to ask a simple question of your +chairman.’ + +Mr. O’Rourke rose. + +‘This meeting,’ he said, ‘is convened for the purpose of raising funds +for the carrying on of the national business in the House of Commons. If +Miss Goold’s question relates to the business in hand, I shall be most +happy to answer it. If not, I am afraid I cannot allow it to be asked +here. At another time and in another place I shall be prepared to listen +to what Miss Goold has to say, and in the meantime if she will take her +seat on the platform she will be heartily welcome.’ + +‘My question,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘is intimately connected with the +business of the meeting. It is simply this: Are you, Mr. O’Rourke, +prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the Irish +people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + +It was manifestly absurd to ask such a question at all. Mr. O’Rourke +had no intention of collecting money for the Boers, who seemed to have +plenty of their own, and he could not without breach of trust have +applied funds subscribed to feed and clothe members of Parliament to +arming volunteers. Nevertheless, it was an awkward question to answer +in the presence of an audience excited by Augusta Goold’s beauty and +splendid audacity. A really strong man, like, for instance, O’Rourke’s +predecessor, John O’Neill, might have faced the situation, and won, if +not the immediate cheers, at least the respect of the Irish people. But +Mr. O’Rourke was not a strong man, and besides he was out of temper and +had lost his nerve. He took perhaps the worst course open to him: he +made a speech. He appealed to his past record as a Nationalist, and to +his publicly reiterated expressions of sympathy with the Boer cause. +He asked the audience to trust him to do what was right, but he neither +said Yes nor No to the question he was asked. + +Augusta Goold stood calm and impassive while he spoke. A sneer gathered +on her lips and indrawn nostrils as he made his appeal for the people’s +confidence. When he had finished she said, very slowly, and with that +extreme distinctness of articulation which women speakers seem to learn +so much more easily than men: + +‘Are you prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by +the Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + +Mr. O’Rourke was goaded into attempting another speech, but the audience +was in no mood to listen to him. He was interrupted again and again with +shouts of ‘Yes or no!’ ‘Answer the question!’ The bantering tone with +which they had plied him earlier in the evening with suggestions for a +menu had changed now into angry insistence. He passed his hand over his +forehead with a gesture of despair, and sat down. At once the tumult +ceased, and the people waited breathless for Augusta Goold to speak +again. + +‘Are you prepared’--she seemed to have learnt her question off by +heart--‘to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the Irish +people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + +Mr. Shea, a red-headed member of Parliament from Co. Limerick, being +himself one of those most deeply interested in the contents of the +party’s purse, sprang to his feet. It was clear that he was in a +condition of almost dangerous excitement, for he stammered, as he +shouted to the chairman: + +‘Sir, is this--this--this woman to be allowed to interrupt the meeting? +I demand her immediate removal.’ + +Augusta Goold smiled at him. It was really a very gracious, almost a +tender, smile. One might imagine the divine Theodora in her earlier days +smiling with just such an expression on a plebeian lover whose passion +she regarded as creditable to him but hopeless. + +‘I assure you, Mr. Shea, that I shall not interrupt the business for +more than a minute. Mr. O’Rourke has only got to say one word--either +Yes or No. Are you prepared to give any portion of the funds entrusted +to you by the Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for +freedom?’ + +Mr. Shea was not at all mollified either by the smile or the politeness +of her tone. + +‘We shall not permit the meeting to be interrupted any more,’ he +shouted. ‘Either you will withdraw at once, or we shall have you removed +by force.’ + +She smiled at him again--a pitying smile, as if she regretted the +petulance of his manner, and turned to the chairman. + +‘Are you prepared to give----’ + +Then Mr. Shea’s feelings became too strong for his self-control. He +sprang forward, apparently with the intention of laying violent hands +upon Augusta Groold. Hyacinth Conneally started up to protect her, and +the same impulse moved a large part of the audience. There was a rush +for the platform, and a fierce, threatening yell. Mr. Shea hung back, +frightened. Augusta Goold held up her hand, and immediately the rush +stopped and the people were silent. She went on with her question, +taking it up at the exact word which Mr. Shea had interrupted, in the +same level and exquisitely irritating tone. + +‘--Any of the money entrusted to you by the Irish people to assist the +Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + +Mr. O’Rourke had sat scowling silently since the failure of his last +attempt to explain himself. This final disjointed repetition of the +galling question roused him to the necessity of doing something. He +was a pitiful sight as he rose and confronted Augusta Goold. There +were blotches of purple red and spaces of pallor on his face; his hands +twisted together; a sweat had broken out from his neck, and made his +collar limp. His words were a stammering mixture of bluster and appeal. + +‘You mustn’t--mustn’t--mustn’t interrupt the meeting,’ So far he tried +to assert himself, then, with a glance at the contemptuous face of the +woman before him, he relapsed into the tone of a schoolboy who begs off +the last strokes of a caning. ‘Is this nice conduct? Is it ladylike to +come here and attack us like this? Miss Goold, I’m ashamed of you.’ + +‘I am glad to hear,’ said Augusta Goold, departing for the first time +from her question, ‘that there is anything left in the world that Mr. +O’Rourke is ashamed of. I didn’t think there was.’ + +It was Mr. Shea and not his leader who resented this last insult. His +lips drew apart, leaving his teeth bare in a ghastly grin. He clenched +his fists, and stood for a moment trembling from head to foot. Then he +leaped forward towards Augusta Goold. The man who stood next Hyacinth +lurched suddenly forward, wrenched his right hand free of the crowd +round him, and flung it back behind his head. Hyacinth saw that he held +a large stone in it. + +‘You are a cowardly blackguard, Shea,’ he yelled--‘a damned, cowardly +blackguard! Would you strike a woman?’ + +Shea turned on the instant, saw the hand stretched back to fling the +stone. He seized the chair behind him--the very chair which, while an +appearance of politeness was still possible, Mr. O’Rourke had offered +to Augusta Goold--and flung it with all his force at the man with the +stone. One of the legs grazed Hyacinth’s cheek, scraping the skin +off. The corner of the seat struck the man beside him full across the +forehead just above his eyes. The blood poured out, blinding, and then, +as he gasped, choking him. He reeled and huddled together helplessly. +He could not fall, for the pressure of the crowd round him held him up. +Hyacinth felt his hands groping wildly as if for support, and reached +out his own to grasp him. But the man wanted no help for himself. As +soon as he felt another hand touch his he pressed the stone into it. + +‘I can’t see,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Take it, you, and kill him, kill +him, kill him! smash his skull!’ + +Hyacinth took the stone. The feel of the man’s blood warm on it and the +fierce yelling and stamping of the crowd filled him with a mad lust of +hate against Shea, who stood as if suddenly paralyzed within a few feet +of him. He wrenched his hand free, and with a mighty effort flung the +stone. He saw it strike Shea fair on the forehead. In spite of the +tumult around him, he fancied he heard the dull thud of its impact. +He saw Shea fling up his hands and pitch forward. He saw Augusta Goold +gather her skirts in her hand, and sweep them swiftly aside lest the man +should fall on them. Then the crowd pressing towards the platform swept +him off his feet, and he was tossed helplessly forward. A giddy +sickness seized him. The pressure slackened for an instant, and he fell. +Someone’s boot struck him on the head. He felt without any keen regret +that he was likely to be trampled to death. Then he lost consciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Next morning the Dublin daily papers laid themselves out to make the +most of the sensational fight at the Rotunda. Even the habitually +cautious _Irish Times_ felt that the occasion justified the expression +of an opinion, and that there would be no serious risk of alienating the +sympathies of subscribers and advertisers by condemning the bloodshed. +It published an exceedingly dignified and stodgy leading article, +drawing the largest and finest words from the dictionary, and weaving +them with extraordinary art into sentences which would have been +creditable to anyone bent upon imitating the style of Dr. Samuel +Johnson. The British Empire and the whole of civilized Europe were +called upon to witness the unspeakably deplorable consequences which +invariably followed the habitual neglect of the cultivation of the +elementary decencies of public life. The paper disclaimed any sympathy +with either of the belligerent parties, and pointed out with sorrowful +solemnity that if the principles sedulously inculcated upon its readers +in its own columns were persistently flouted and contemned by those who +claimed the position of national representatives, little else except a +repetition at frequent intervals of the painful and humiliating +scenes of the night before could possibly be anticipated by reasonable +observers of the general trend of democratic institutions. The _Daily +Express_ openly exulted over the rioters. Its leading article--the +staff may have danced in a ring round the office table while composing +it--declared that now at length the Irish had proved to the world +that they were all, without a solitary exception, irredeemably +vicious corner-boys. Miss Augusta Goold was warmly praised for having +demonstrated once for all that ‘patriotism’ ought to be written ‘Pat +riotism.’ Deep regret was expressed that those who attended the meeting +had not been armed with revolvers instead of stones, and that the +platform had not been defended with Maxim guns instead of comparatively +innocuous wooden chairs. Had modern weapons of precision been used the +_Daily Express_ would have been able to congratulate mankind on getting +rid of quite a considerable number of Irishmen. + +The _Freeman’s Journal_ and the _Daily Independent_ were awkwardly +situated. Their sympathies were entirely with Mr. O’Rourke, and +they were exceedingly angry with Miss Goold for interfering with the +collection of funds for the Parliamentary party. At the same time, +they felt a difficulty in denouncing her, not for want of suitable +language--the Irish Nationalist press has a superb command of words +which a self-respecting dictionary would hesitate to recognise--but +because they felt that push of the horns of the dilemma on which +O’Rourke had been impaled, and they were obliged to sand their +denunciations between layers of stoutest pro-Boer sentiment. + +All four papers contained reports of the proceedings which were +practically identical up to a certain point. It was about the +commencement of the actual bloodshed that they differed. The _Irish +Times_ reporter believed that Mr. Shea had begun the fray by striking +Augusta Goold behind the ear with his clenched fist. The _Daily Express_ +man claimed to have overheard Mr. O’Rourke urging his friends to brain +a member of the audience with a chair. The _Freeman’s Journal_ held that +Augusta Goold’s supporters had come into the hall supplied with huge +stones, which, at a given signal, they had flung at the inoffensive +members of Parliament who occupied the platform, adding, as a +corroborative detail, that the lady who accompanied Augusta Goold +had twice kicked the prostrate Mr. Shea in the stomach. The _Daily +Independent_ advanced the ingenious theory that the contest had been +precipitated by a malevolent student of Trinity College, who had flung +an apple of discord--on this occasion a jagged paving-stone of unusual +size--into the midst of a group of ladies and gentlemen who were +peacefully discussing a slight difference of opinion among themselves. +Beyond this point none of the papers gave any account of the +proceedings, all four reporters having recognised that, not being +retained as war correspondents, they were not called upon to risk their +lives on the battlefield. The accounts all closed with the information +that the wounded had been carried to Jervis Street Hospital, and were +under treatment suitable to their injuries. Hyacinth had suffered a +slight concussion of the brain and a flesh wound. Other sufferers were +in the same ward, Mr. Shea himself occupying a bed, so that Hyacinth had +the satisfaction of seeing him stretched out, a melancholy figure, +with a bandage concealing most of his red hair. After the surgeon +had finished his rounds for the morning a police official visited the +sufferers, and made a careful note of their names and addresses. He +inquired in a perfunctory manner whether any of them wished to swear an +information. No one, except Mr. Shea, was sufficiently satisfied with +his own share of the meeting to wish for more fame than was unavoidable. +As no further use was ever made of Mr. Shea’s narrative, it may be +presumed that the authorities regarded it as wanting in accuracy. +No blame, however, ought to be attached to the author for any petty +deviation from the truth of which he may have been guilty. No man’s mind +is perfectly clear on the morning after he has been struck on the head +with a stone, and perhaps afterwards kicked twice in the stomach by a +lady journalist. Besides, all members of Parliament are, in virtue of +their office, ‘honourable gentlemen.’ + +An excited and sympathetic nurse provided Hyacinth with copies of the +four morning papers, which he read with interest and a good deal of +amusement. Only the account in the _Daily Independent_ caused him any +uneasiness. No doubt, as he fully recognised, the suggestion about +the Trinity student was nothing but a wild guess on the part of the +reporter. It was highly unlikely that anyone would seriously consider a +theory so intrinsically improbable. Still, if the faintest suspicion of +the part he had played reached the ears of the college authorities, he +felt that his career as a divinity student was likely to be an extremely +brief one. His chief fear was that a prolonged absence from college +would give rise to inquiry, and that his bandages would excite suspicion +when he reappeared. Fortunately, the house surgeon decided that he was +sufficiently recovered to be allowed to leave the hospital early in the +afternoon. The boot which had put an end to his share in the riot had +raised its bruise under his hair, so he was able to remove the bandages +from his head as soon as he got into the street. There still remained a +long strip of plaster meant to keep a dressing of iodoform in its place +over the cut on his cheek which Mr. Shea’s chair-leg had inflicted. +This he could not get off, and thinking it wiser to make his entry into +college after nightfall, he sought a refuge in Mary O’Dwyer’s rooms. + +He found the poetess laid on a sofa and clad in a blue dressing-gown. +She stretched a hand of welcome to Hyacinth, and then, before he had +time to take it, began to laugh immoderately. The laughing fit ended in +sobs, and then tears flowed from her eyes, which she mopped convulsively +with an already damp pocket-handkerchief. Before she had recovered +sufficient self-possession to speak, she signed to Hyacinth to fetch a +bottle of smelling-salts from the chimney-piece. He hastened to obey, +and found himself kneeling beside the sofa, holding the bottle to her +nose. After a while she recovered sufficiently to tell him that she had +not slept at all during the night, and felt extremely unwell and quite +unstrung in consequence. Another fit of immoderate and tearful laughter +followed, and Hyacinth, embarrassed and alarmed, fetched a tumbler of +soda-water from the syphon on the sideboard. The lady refused to +swallow any, and, just as he had made up his mind to risk an external +application, recovered again. During the lucid interval which followed +she informed him that his own conduct had been superb and heroic. What +seemed to be an effort to celebrate his achievements in extemporary +verse brought on another fit. Hyacinth determined to risk an appearance +in the college square in broad daylight rather than continue his +ministrations. While he was searching for his hat Miss O’Dwyer became +suddenly quite calm, and began to explain to him how immensely the cause +of Ireland’s independence had benefited by the demonstration in the +Rotunda. Hyacinth listened anxiously, waiting for the next explosion, +and experienced very great relief when the door opened and Augusta Goold +walked in. + +Unlike Mary O’Dwyer, she was entirely mistress of herself. Her cheeks +were not a shade paler than usual, nor her hand at all less cool and +firm. She stretched herself, after her usual fashion, in the largest +available chair and lit a cigarette. + +‘You look excited, my dear Mary,’ she said--‘a little overexcited, +perhaps. Have you had tea? No? Perhaps you will be so kind as to ring +the bell, Mr. Conneally.’ + +Mary O’Dwyer repeated the information she had given Hyacinth about her +sleepless night, and complimented Augusta Goold on her nerve. + +‘As for poor little me,’ she went on, ‘I’m like a--like a--you remember +the kind of thing, don’t you?--like a--I’m not sure if I know the name +of the thing myself.’ + +She relapsed into a weak giggle, and Hyacinth stooped for the bottle of +smelling-salts, which had rolled under the sofa. Augusta Goold was much +less sympathetic. She fixed her with a strong stare of amazement and +disgust. Apparently this treatment was the right one, for the giggling +stopped almost immediately. + +‘I see you have got some sticking-plaster on your face, Mr. Conneally,’ +she said, when Mary O’Dwyer had quieted down. + +‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and a good-sized bump behind my ear.’ + +‘I suppose this business will be very awkward for you in college. Will +they turn you out?’ + +‘I’m sure they will if they find out that I threw that stone at Shea.’ + +‘You made a very good shot,’ said Augusta, smiling at the recollection. +‘But how on earth did you come to have a stone that size in the hall +with you?’ + +Hyacinth told the story of the man who had been felled by the chair and +his murderous bequest. + +‘That’s the proper spirit,’ said Augusta. ‘I admire that man, and he +couldn’t have passed his stone on to better hands than yours. Shea went +down as if he had been shot. I was afraid of my life he would clutch at +my skirts as he fell or squirm up against me after he was down. But he +lay quite still. By the way, Mary, I suppose your dress was ruined?’ + +Mary O’Dwyer was quite subdued. + +‘It was torn,’ she said meekly enough. + +‘Have you another one?’ + +‘Of course I have. I’ve three others, besides some old ones.’ + +‘Well, then, you’d better go and put on one of them. An old one will do. +It’s disgusting to see a woman slopping about in a dressing-gown at this +time of day. I’ll have tea ready when you come back.’ + +Miss O’Dwyer obeyed sulkily. She wished very much that Augusta Goold had +stopped at home. It would have been a great deal pleasanter to have gone +on practising hysterics with Hyacinth as a sympathetic spectator. When +the door was shut Augusta Goold turned to Hyacinth again. + +‘That’s the worst of women’--apparently she did not consider herself as +one of the sex--‘they are all right at the time (nothing could have +been better than Mary’s behaviour at the meeting), but they collapse +afterwards in such idiotic ways. But I want to talk to you about +yourself. I owe you a good turn for what you did last night. Only for +you, I think Shea would have dared to touch me, and then very likely I +should have killed him, and there might have been trouble afterwards.’ +She spoke quite calmly, but Hyacinth had very little doubt that she +meant exactly what she said. ‘Grealy of course, was useless. One might +have expected him to give utterance to an ancient tribal war-cry, but he +didn’t even do that. Tim Halloran got frightened when the row began. I +noticed him dodging about behind Mary and me, and I mean to let him know +what I think about him. It’s you I have to thank, and I won’t forget it. +If you get into trouble over this business in college, come to me, and +I will see you straight. In fact, if you like to give up the divinity +student business at once, I dare say I can put you in the way of earning +an honester livelihood.’ + +Hyacinth was gratified at the way Augusta Goold spoke to him. Since +the evening on which he had given his opinion about the morality of +desertion and murder he had been conscious of a coolness in her manner. +Now he had apparently reinstated himself in her good graces. Praise, +even for an act he was secretly ashamed of, and gratitude, though he +by no means recognised that he deserved it, were pleasant to him. He +promised to remember the offer of help, but declined for the present to +commit his future to the keeping of so bloodthirsty a patroness. + +Curiously enough, Hyacinth’s reception in college was a great deal more +cordial after the Rotunda meeting than it had ever been before. For a +while the battle which had been fought at their doors superseded the +remoter South African warfare as a topic of conversation among the +students. Their sympathies were with Augusta Goold. Even members of the +divinity classes suffered themselves to be lured from their habitual +worship of respectability so far as to express admiration for the +dramatic picturesqueness of the part she played. It is true that the +lady herself was called by names universally resented by women, and that +the broadest slanders were circulated about her character. Still, a halo +of glory hung round her. It was felt that she had done a surprisingly +courageous thing when she faced Mr. O’Rourke on his own platform. Also, +she had behaved with a certain dignity, neither throwing chairs nor +stones at her opponents. Then, she was an undeniably beautiful woman, +a fact which made its inevitable appeal to the young men. The mere +expression of sympathy with this flamboyant and scandal-smeared heroine +brought with it a delightful flavour of gay and worldly vice. It was +pretty well known that Hyacinth was a friend of Miss Goold’s, and it +was rumoured that he had earned his piece of sticking-plaster in +her defence. No one knew exactly what he had done or how much he had +suffered, but a great many men were anxious to know. Very much to his +own surprise, he received a number of visitors in his rooms. Men who had +been the foremost of his tormentors came, ostensibly to inquire for his +health, in reality to glean details of the fight at the Rotunda. Certain +medical students of the kind which glory in any kind of row openly +congratulated him on his luck in being present on such an occasion. Men +who claimed to be fast, and tried to impress their acquaintances with +the belief that they indulged habitually in wild scenes of revelry, +courted Hyacinth, and boasted afterwards of their second-hand +acquaintance with Miss Goold. It became the fashion to be seen +arm-in-arm with him in the quadrangle, and to inquire from him in public +for ‘Finola.’ + +This new popularity by no means pleased Hyacinth. He was not at all +proud of his share in the Rotunda meeting, and lived in daily dread of +being recognised as the assailant of Mr. Shea. He knew, too, that he was +making no way with the better class of students. The men whose faces +he liked were more than ever shy of making his acquaintance. The +sub-lecturers and minor professors in the divinity school were coldly +contemptuous in their manner, and it seemed to him that even Dr. +Henry was less friendly. He became desperately anxious to get out of a +position which he found more intolerable than the original isolation. He +applied himself with extreme diligence to his studies, even affecting +an interest, unnatural for the most pious, in the expositions given +by learned doctors of the Thirty-nine Articles. At lectures on Church +history he made notes about the vagaries of heretics so assiduously that +the professor began to hope that there existed one student at least +who took an interest in the Christological controversies of the sixth +century. He never ventured back again to the Wednesday prayer-meeting, +but he performed many attendances beyond the required minimum at the +college chapel. Morning after morning he dragged himself from his +bed and hurried across the dusky quadrangle to take his part in the +mutilated matins with which the college authorities see fit to usher +in the day. He even went to hear the sermons delivered on Friday +afternoons, homilies so painful that the preachers themselves recognise +an extraordinary merit in enduring them, and allow that submission of +the ears to one of them is to be reckoned as equal to two ordinary acts +of devotion. + +It is to be hoped that Hyacinth derived some remote benefit from the +discipline to which he subjected himself, for the immediate results were +not satisfactory. He seemed no nearer winning the respect of the more +serious students, and Dr. Henry’s manner showed no signs of softening +into friendliness. His surfeit of theology bred in him a dislike of the +subject. The solemn platitudes which were posed as expositions of the +creeds affected his mind much as the expurgated life histories of maiden +aunts do the newly-emancipated school-girl. The relentless closing in of +argument upon a single previously settled doctrine woke in him a desire +to break through at some point and breathe again in the open. He +began to fear that he was becoming hopelessly irreligious. His morning +devotions in the foggy atmosphere of the chapel did not touch the +capacity for enthusiasm within him. The vague splendour of his father’s +meditations had left him outside, indeed, but sure that within there +lay a great reality. But now religion had come to seem an altogether +narrower thing, a fenced off, well-ordered garden in which useful +vegetables might be cultivated, but very little inspiring to the soul. + +The unwelcome attention of the students whose friendship he did not +desire, and his increasing dislike for the work he was expected to do, +led him to spend more and more of his time with Augusta Goold and her +friends. He found in their society that note of enthusiasm which he +missed in the religion of the college. He responded warmly to their +passionate devotion to the dream of an independent Irish Republic. He +felt less conscious of his want of religion in their company. With the +exception of Augusta Goold herself, the members of the coterie were +professedly Roman Catholics; but this made little or no difference +in their intercourse with him. What he found in their ideals was a +substitute for religion, a space where his enthusiasm might extend +itself. He became, as he realized his own position clearly, very +doubtful whether he ought to continue his college course. It did not +seem likely that he would in the end be able to take Holy Orders, and +to remain in the divinity school without that intention was clearly +foolish. On the other hand, he shrank from inflicting what he knew would +be a painful disappointment on his father. It happened that before the +term ended his connection with the divinity school was cut in a way that +saved him from the responsibility of forming a decision. + +He was a regular attendant at the lectures of Dr. Spenser, who had never +from the first disguised his dislike and contempt for Hyacinth. This +gentleman was one day explaining to his class the difference between +evidence which leads to a high degree of probability and a demonstration +which produces absolute certainty. The subject was a dry one, and quite +unsuited to Dr. Spenser, whose heart was set on maintaining a reputation +for caustic wit. He cast about for an illustration which would at once +make clear the distinction and enliven his lecture. His eye lit upon +Hyacinth, upon whose cheek there still burned a long red scar. Dr. +Spenser’s face brightened. + +‘For instance, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘if I should reason from the fact +that our friend Mr. Conneally affects the society of certain charming +ladies of doubtful reputation, like Miss Goold, to the conclusion that +Mr. Conneally is himself a Nationalist, I should only have arrived at +a probable conclusion. The degree of probability might be very high; +still, I should have no right to regard my conclusion as absolutely +certain.’ + +The class tittered delightedly. Dr. Spenser proceeded without heeding a +deep flush on Hyacinth’s face, which might have warned a wiser man that +an explosion was coming. + +‘If I should then proceed to reason thus: All Nationalists are rebels +and potential murderers--Mr. Conneally is a Nationalist; therefore Mr. +Conneally is a rebel and potential murderer--I should, assuming the +truth of my minor premise, have arrived at a certainty.’ + +The syllogism was greeted with loud applause. Hyacinth started to his +feet. For a time he could only gasp for breath to utter a reply, and +Dr. Spenser, secure in the conviction of his own intellectual and social +superiority to the son of a parson from Connemara, determined to pursue +his prey. + +‘Does Mr. Conneally,’ he asked with a simper, ‘propose to impugn the +accuracy of my induction or the logic of my deduction?’ + +The simper and the number of beautiful long words which Dr. Spenser had +succeeded in collecting together into one sentence provoked a sustained +clapping of hands and stamping of feet from the class. Hyacinth rapidly +regained his self-possession, and was surprised at his own coolness when +he replied: + +‘I should say, sir, that a man who makes an induction holding up a lady +to ridicule is probably a cad, and that the cad who makes a deduction +confusing patriotism with murder is certainly a fool.’ + +A report of Hyacinth’s speech was handed to Dr. Henry, with a +suggestion that expulsion from the divinity school was the only suitable +punishment. Hyacinth did not look forward with any pleasure to the +interview to which he was summoned. He was agreeably surprised when he +entered the professor’s room. Dr. Henry offered him a chair. + +‘I hear,’ he said--his tone was severe, but a barely perceptible gleam +of humorous appreciation flashed across his eyes as he spoke--‘that you +have been exceedingly insolent to Dr. Spenser.’ + +‘I don’t know, sir, whether you heard the whole story, but if you did +you will surely recognise that Dr. Spenser was gratuitously insulting to +me.’ + +‘Quite so,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I recognise that, but the question is, What +am I to do with you now? What would you do if you were in my place? I +should like to know your views of the best way out of the situation.’ + +Hyacinth was silent. + +‘You see,’ Dr. Henry went on, ‘we can’t have our divinity lecturers +called fools and cads before their classes. I should be afraid myself +to deliver a lecture in your presence if I thought I was liable to that +kind of interruption.’ + +‘I think, sir,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that the best thing will be for me to +leave the divinity school.’ + +‘I think so, too. But leaving our divinity school need not mean that you +give up the idea of taking Holy Orders. I have a very high opinion of +your abilities, Conneally--so high that I should not like the Church to +lose your services. At the same time, you are not at present the kind +of man whom I could possibly recommend to any Irish Bishop. Your +Nationalist principles are an absolute bar to your working in the Church +of Ireland.’ + +‘I wonder, sir, how you can call our Church the Church of Ireland, and +in the same breath say that there is no room for a Nationalist in her. +Don’t the two things contradict each other.’ + +Dr. Henry’s eyes twinkled again. There spread over his mouth a smile of +tolerant amusement. + +‘My dear boy, I’m not going to let you trap me into a discussion of that +question. Theoretically, I have no doubt you would make out an excellent +case. National Church, National spirit, National politics--Irish Church, +Irish nation, Irish ideas. They all go excellently together, don’t they? +And yet the facts are as I state them. A Nationalist clergyman in +the Church of Ireland would be just as impossible as an English +Nonconformist in the Court of Louis Quatorze. After all, in this life +one has got to steer one’s course among facts, and they’re sharp things +which knock holes in the man who disregards them. Now, what I propose +to you is this: Put off your ordination for three years or so. Take +up schoolmastaring. I will undertake to get you a post in an English +school. Your politics won’t matter over there, because no one will in +the least understand what you mean. Work hard, think hard, read hard. +Mix with the bigger world across the Channel. See England and realize +what England is and what her Empire means. Don’t be angry with me for +saying that, long before the three years are over, you’ll have come to +see that what you call patriotism is nothing else than parochialism of +a particularly narrow and uninstructed kind. Then come back here to me, +and I’ll arrange for your ordination. You’ll do the best of good work +when you’ve grown up a bit, and I’ll see you a Bishop before I die.’ + +‘I shall always be grateful to you,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I shall never +forget your kindness, and the way you’ve treated me; but I can’t do what +you ask.’ + +‘Oh, I’m not going to take no for an answer,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘Go home +to the West and think it over. Talk to your father about your future. +Write to me if you like about your plans, and remember my offer is open +six months or a year hence. You’ll be the same man then that you are +now--I mean, in character. I’m not afraid of your turning out badly. You +may think wrong-headedly, but I’m sure you’ll not act disgracefully.’ + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The December afternoon was growing dark when the weary car-horse +surmounted the last hill on the road from Clifden and broke into a +shambling trot down the long straight stretch into Carrowkeel. Soon, as +the distance dwindled, the lights which twinkled here and there in the +village became distinguishable. This--Hyacinth recognised it--was the +great hanging lamp in the window of Rafferty’s shop. That, a softer +glow, came from the forge of Killeen, the smith. That, and that, fainter +and more uncertain lights, were from fires seen through the open upper +section of cottage doors. He could almost tell whose the cabins were +where they shone. The scene inside rose to the imagination. A man with +ragged clothes and a half-empty pipe is squeezed into the stone nook +beside the blazing turf. The kettle, hanging from its hook, swings +steaming beside him. The woman of the house, barefooted, sluttish, in +torn crimson petticoat and gray bodice pinned across her breast, moves +the red cinders from the lid of the pot-oven and peers at the browning +cake within. Babies toddle or crawl over the greasy floor. The car +rattled into the village street. Men whom he knew stopped it to speak to +him. Children playing the last of their games in the fading light paused +to stare at him. Father Moran, returning to his presbytery, waved his +hand and shouted a greeting. He passed the last house of the village, +and could see the fishing-boats, dim and naked-looking, riding at their +anchors in the bay. Out beyond them, grim and terrible in the twilight, +lay the hulk where the ice for fish-packing was stored. The thick stump +of her one remaining mast made a blacker bar against the black sky. The +pier was deserted, but he could see the bulky stacks of fish-boxes piled +on it, and hear the water lapping against it. Along its utmost edge lay +a belt of gray white, where the waves broke as they surged round it. He +passed the pier, and there lay before him the long hill that led home. +The church and the ruined school stood out clearly on the skyline. Below +them, less clearly seen, was the rectory, and Hyacinth noted that the +lamp in the kitchen was lit. Then the door was opened, and he saw, plain +against the light, a man’s figure, his father’s. No doubt the old man +was watching and listening. Perhaps the sound of the wheels reached him +through the evening air, for in a few minutes he came out and walked +down the drive. Hyacinth saw him fumble with the fastening of the +rickety gate, and at last open it slowly and with difficulty. The car +reached a gap in the loose stone wall, a familiar gap, for across it lay +a short cut up a steeper part of the hill, which the road went round. +Hyacinth jumped down and ran up the path. In another minute the +greeting of father and son was accomplished, and the two were walking +hand-in-hand towards the house. Hyacinth noticed that his father +trembled, and that his feet stumbled uncertainly among the loose stones +and stiff weeds. + +When they entered the lighted room he saw that his father seemed +older--many years older--than when he had said good-bye to him two +months before. His skin was very transparent, his lips were tremulous, +his eyes, after the first long look at his son, shifted feebly to the +fire, the table, and the floor. + +‘My dear son,’ he said, ‘I thank God that I have got you safe home +again. Indeed, it is good to see you again, Hyacinth, for it has been +very lonely while you were away. I have not been able to do very much +lately or to go out to the seashore, as I used to. Perhaps it is only +that I have not cared to. But I have tried hard to get everything ready +for your coming.’ + +He looked round the room with evident pride as he spoke. Hyacinth +followed his gaze, and it was with a sense of deep shame that he found +himself noticing the squalor of his home. The table was stained, and the +books which littered half of it were thick with dust and grease-spotted. +The earthen floor was damp and pitted here and there, so that the chairs +stood perilously among its inequalities. The fine white powder of turf +ashes lay thick upon the dresser. The whitewash above the fireplace was +blackened by the track of the smoke that had blown out of the chimney +and climbed up to the still blacker rafters of the roof. Hyacinth +remembered how he, and not his father, had been accustomed to clean the +room and wash the cups and plates. He wondered how such matters had been +managed in his absence, and a great sense of compassion filled his eyes +with tears as he thought of the painful struggle which the details +of life must have brought upon his father. He noted the evident +preparations for his coming. There were two eggs lying in a saucer ready +to be boiled, a fresh loaf--and this was not the day they got their +bread--and a small tin of cocoa beside his cup. The hearth was piled +with glowing turf, and the iron tripod with a saucepan on it stood +surrounded with red coals. Some sense of what Hyacinth was feeling +passed into his father’s mind. + +‘Isn’t it all right, my son? I tried to make it very nice for you. I +wanted to get Maggie Cassidy up from the village for the day, but her +baby had the chin-cough, and she couldn’t come.’ + +He took Hyacinth’s hand and held it while he spoke. + +‘Perhaps it looks poor to you,’ he went on, ‘after your college rooms +and the houses your friends live in; but it’s your own home, son, isn’t +it?’ + +Hyacinth made a gulp at the emotion which had brought him near to tears. + +‘It’s splendid, father--simply splendid. And now I’m going to boil those +two eggs and make the cocoa, and we’ll have a feast. Hallo! you’ve got +some jam--jam and butter and eggs, and this is the month of December, +when there’s hardly a hen laying or a cow milking in the whole parish!’ + +He held up the jam-pot as he spoke. It was wrapped in dingy red paper, +and had a mouldy damp stain on one side. Hyacinth recognised the mark, +and remembered that he had seen the identical pot on the upper shelf of +Rafferty’s shop for years. Its label bore an inscription only vaguely +prophetic of the contents--‘Irish Household Jam.’ + +‘That’s right, father, you are supporting home manufacture. I declare +I wouldn’t have tasted it if it had come from England. You see, I’m a +greater patriot than ever.’ + +Old Mr. Conneally smiled in a feeble, wavering way. He seemed scarcely +to understand what was being said to him, but he found a quiet pleasure +in the sound of his son’s voice. He settled himself in a chair by the +fireside and watched contentedly while Hyacinth put the eggs into the +saucepan, hung the kettle on its hook, and cut slices of bread. Then the +meal was eaten, Hyacinth after his long drive finding a relish even in +the household jam. He plied his father with questions, and heard what +the old man knew of the gossip of the village--how Thady Durkan had +broken his arm, and talked of giving up the fishing; how the police from +Letter-frack had found, or said they found, a whisky-still behind the +old castle; how a Gaelic League organizer had come round persuading the +people to sing and dance at the Galway Féis. + +After supper Hyacinth nerved himself to tell the story of his term in +college, and his determination to leave the divinity school. More than +once he made an effort to begin, but the old man, who brightened a +little during their meal, relapsed again into dreaminess, and did not +seem to be listening to him. They pulled their chairs near to the fire, +and Mr. Conneally sat holding his son’s hand fast. Sometimes he stroked +or patted it gently, but otherwise he seemed scarcely to recognise +that he was not alone. His eyes were fixed on the fire, but they stared +strangely, as if they saw something afar off, something not in the +room at all. There was no response in them when Hyacinth spoke, and no +intelligence. From time to time his lips moved slightly as if they were +forming words, but he said nothing. After awhile Hyacinth gave up the +attempt to tell his story, and sat silent for so long that in the end he +was startled when his father spoke. + +‘Hyacinth, my son, I have somewhat to say unto you.’ Before Hyacinth +could reply to him he continued: ‘And the young man answered and said +unto him, “Say on.” And the old man lifted up his voice and said unto +his son, “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.”’ + +He spoke as if he were reading out of a book some narrative from the +Bible. Hyacinth realized suddenly that the communication which was to +be made to him had been rehearsed by his father alone, again and again, +that statement, question and reply, would follow each other in +due sequence from the same lips. He felt that his father was still +rehearsing, and had forgotten the real presence of his son. He grasped +the hand that held him and shook it, saying sharply: + +‘Father, father, I am here. Don’t you know me?’ + +‘Yes, yes, my son. Surely I know you. There is something I want to tell +you. I have wanted to tell it to you for many days. I am glad that you +are here now to listen to it.’ + +He paused, and Hyacinth feared that he would relapse again into dreamy +insensibility; but he did not. + +‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to pray before I speak to you.’ + +He knelt down as Hyacinth had seen him kneel a thousand times before, +facing the eastward-looking window, now a black, uncurtained square in +the whitewashed wall. What he said was almost unintelligible. There was +no petition nor even any sequence of ideas which could be traced. +He poured forth a series of ejaculations expressive of intense and +rapturous delight, very strange to listen to in such a place and from +an old man’s lips. Then the language he spoke changed from English +into Gaelic, and there came a kind of hymn of adoration. His sentences +followed each other in metrical balance like the Latin of the old +liturgies, and suited themselves naturally to a subdued melody, half +chant, half cry, like the mourning of the keeners round a grave. At +last, rising from his knees, he spoke, and his voice became wholly +unemotional, devoid of fervour or excitement. He told his story as a man +might relate some quite commonplace incident of daily life. + +‘One evening I was sitting here by the fire, just as I always sit. I +remember that the lamp was not lit, and that the fire was low, so that +there was not much light in the room. It came into my mind that it was +just out of such gloom that the Lord called “Samuel, Samuel,” and I +wished that I was like Samuel, so innocent that I could hear the voice +of the Lord. I do not remember what I thought of after that. Perhaps for +a time I did not think at all. Then I felt that there were arms about my +neck; but not like your arms, Hyacinth, when you were a child and clung +to me. These were arms which held me lovingly, strongly, protectingly, +like--do you remember, Hyacinth?--“His right hand is under my head; His +left hand doth embrace me.” I sat quite still, and did not move or speak +or even breathe, lest He should go away from me. Then, after a long +time--I knew afterwards that the time was long, though then it seemed +only a minute for the joy that I had in it--He told me--I do not mean +that I heard a voice or any words; I did not hear, I _felt_ Him tell +me--the things that are to be. The last great fight, the Armageddon, +draweth very near. All that is good is on one side in the fight, and the +Captain over all. What is bad is on the other side--all kinds of tyranny +and greed and lust. I did not hear these words, but I felt the things, +only without any fear, for round me were the everlasting arms. And +the battlefield is Ireland, our dear Ireland which we love. All these +centuries since the great saints died He has kept Ireland to be His +battlefield. I understood then how our people have been saved from +riches and from power and from the opportunities of lust, that our soil +out of all the world might be fit for the feet of the great Captain, for +the marching of His horsemen and His chariots. Not even when I knew all +this did I desire to share in the conflict. I am old and feeble, but +that is not the reason why there was no desire on me, for strength is in +His power to give to whom He wills. I did not desire it, because I was +quite happy, being safe with Him.’ + +For a long time after he ceased speaking there was silence, for Hyacinth +had no comment to offer. At last the old man spoke again. + +‘That is all. I have no other word of revelation. But I have wondered +since how men are to be disentangled from their parties and their +churches and their nations, and gathered simply into good and bad. Will +all men who are good just know the Captain when they see Him and range +themselves with Him? But why should we think about such things as these? +Doubtless He can order them. But you, Hyacinth--will you be sure to know +the good side from the bad, the Captain from the enemy?’ + +For a long time after he had gone to bed Hyacinth lay awake haunted by +his father’s prophecy of an Armageddon. There was that in his nature +which responded eagerly to such a call to battle. In the presence of +enthusiasm like his father’s or like Augusta Goold’s, Hyacinth +caught fire. His mind flamed with the idea of an Independent Ireland +resplendent with her ancient glories. He embraced no less eagerly the +thought of his father’s battle and his own part in it. Groping for +points of contact between the two enthusiasms, he caught at the +conception of the Roman Church as the Antichrist and her power in +Ireland as the point round which the fight must rage. Then with a sudden +flash he saw, not Rome, but the British Empire, as the embodiment of +the power of darkness. He had learned to think of it as a force, greedy, +materialistic, tyrannous, grossly hypocritical. What more was required +to satisfy the conception of evil that he sought for? He remembered +all that he had ever heard from Augusta Goold and her friends about the +shameless trickery of English statesmen, about the insatiable greed of +the merchants, about the degraded sensuality of the workers. He recalled +the blatant boastfulness with which English demagogues claimed to be +the sole possessors of enlightened consciences, and the tales of +native races exploited, gin-poisoned, and annihilated by pioneers of +civilization advancing with Bibles in their hands. + +But with all his capacity for enthusiasm there was a strain of weakness +in Hyacinth. More than once after the glories of an Independent Ireland +had been preached to him he had found himself growing suddenly cold and +dejected, smitten by an east wind of common-sense. At the time when he +first recognised the loftiness of his father’s religion he had revolted +against being called upon to adopt so fantastic a creed. So now, when +his mind grew weary with the endeavour to set an Armageddon in array, he +began to wish for a life of peaceful monotony, a place to be quiet in, +where no high calls or imperious demands would come to threaten him. +He ceased to toss to and fro, and gradually sank into a half-conscious +sleep. It seemed to him at the time that he was still awake, held back +from slumber by the great stillness of the country, that silence which +disturbs ears long accustomed to the continuous roar of towns. Suddenly +he started into perfect wakefulness, and felt that he was in possession +of all his faculties. The room where he lay was quite dark, but he +strained his eyes to see something in it. He listened intently, although +no sound whatever met his ears. A great overmastering fear laid hold on +him. He tried to reason with himself, insisting that there was nothing, +and could be nothing, to be afraid of. Still the fear remained. His +lips grew stiff and painfully hot, and when he tried to moisten them his +tongue was dry and moved across them raspingly. He struggled with the +terror that paralyzed him, and by a great effort raised his hand to his +forehead. It was damp and cold, and the hair above it was damp. He had +no way of knowing how much of the night had passed, or even how long he +lay rigid, unable to breathe without a kind of pain; but suddenly as it +had come the terror left him, left him without any effort on his part or +any reason that he recognised. Then the window of his room shook, and he +heard outside the low moan of the rising wind. Some heavy drops of rain +struck audibly on the roof, and the first gust of the storm carried to +his ears the sound of waves beating on the rocks. His senses strained no +more. His eyes closed, and he sank quietly into a long dreamless sleep. + +It was late when he woke, so late that the winter sky was fully lit. The +wind, whose first gusts had lulled him to sleep, had risen to a gale, +and the rain, mixed with salt spray, beat fiercely against his window +and on the roof. He listened, expecting to hear his father moving in the +room below, but within the house there was no sound. He rose, vaguely +anxious, and without waiting to dress went into the kitchen. Everything +lay untouched, just as he had left it the night before. The lamp and +the remnants of the meal were on the table. The two chairs stood side +by side before the hearth, where the fire which he had covered up +smouldered feebly. He turned and went to his father’s room. He could +not have explained how it was, but when he opened the door he was not +surprised to see the old man lying quite still, dead, upon the bed. His +face was turned upwards, and on it was that strange look of emotionless +peace which rests very often on the faces of the dead. It seemed +to Hyacinth quite natural that the soul as it departed into unknown +beatitude should have printed this for the last expression on the +earthly habitation which it left behind. He neither wondered nor, at +first, sorrowed very much to see his father dead. His sight was undimmed +and his hands steady when he closed the eyes and composed the limbs of +the body on the bed. Afterwards it seemed strange to him that he should +have dressed quietly, arranged the furniture in the kitchen, and blown +the fire into a blaze before he went down into the village to tell his +news and seek for help. + +They buried Æneas Conneally beside his wife in the wind-swept +churchyard. The fishermen carried his coffin into the church and out +again to the grave. Father Moran himself stood by bareheaded while the +clergyman from Clifden read the prayers and sprinkled the coffin-lid +with the clay which symbolized the return of earth to earth and dust to +dust. In the presence of death, and, with the recollection of the simple +goodness of the man who was gone, priest and people alike forgot for an +hour the endless strife between his creed and theirs. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +In Connaught the upper middle classes, clergy, doctors, lawyers, police +officers, bank officials, and so forth, are all strangers in the land. +Each of them looks forward to a promotion which will enable him to move +to some more congenial part of Ireland. A Dublin suburb is the ideal +residence; failing that, the next best thing is a country town within +easy reach of the metropolis. Most of them sooner or later achieve a +promotion, but some of them are so unfortunate as to die in their exile. +In either case their furniture and effects are auctioned. No one ever +removes his goods from Connaught, because the cost of getting things +to any other part of Ireland is exorbitant, and also because tables +and chairs fetch very high prices at auctions. Thus it happens that a +certain historic interest attaches to the furniture of most middle-class +houses west of the Shannon. The dispensary doctor dines off a table +which once graced the parlour of a parish priest. The inspector +of police boasts of the price he paid for his easy-chair, recently +upholstered, at the auction of a departing bank manager, the same +mahogany frame having once supported the portly person of an old-time +Protestant Archdeacon. It is to be supposed that the furniture +originally imported--no one knows how--into Connaught must have been of +superlative quality. Articles whose pedigree, so to speak, can be traced +for nearly a hundred years are still in daily use, unimpaired by changes +of scene and ownership. + +An auction of any importance is a public holiday. Clergy, doctors, +lawyers, and police officers gather to the scene, not unlike those +beasts of prey of whom we read that they readily devour the remains of +a fallen member of their own pack. The natives also collect +together--publicans and shopkeepers in search of bargains in china, +glass, and house-linen; farmers bent on purchasing such outdoor property +as wheelbarrows, scythes, or harness. + +When Hyacinth, to use the local expression, ‘called an auction’ shortly +after his father’s death, he was favoured with quite the usual crowd of +would-be buyers. Almost everyone with either money or credit within +a radius of twenty miles came into Carrowkeel for the occasion. The +presiding auctioneer had done his duty beforehand by advertising old Mr. +Conneally’s mouldy furniture as ‘magnificently upholstered’ suites, +and his battered editions of the classics as ‘a valuable library +of handsomely bound books.’ It is not likely that anyone was really +deceived by these announcements, or expected to find in the little +rectory anything sumptuous or splendid. The people assembled mainly +because they were exceedingly curious to see the inside of a house whose +doors had never been open to them during the lifetime of the owner. It +was always possible, besides, that though the ‘magnificently upholstered +suites’ existed only in the auctioneer’s imagination, treasures of +silver spoons or candlesticks plated upon copper might be discovered +among the effects of a man who lived as queer a life as Mr. Conneally. +When men and women put themselves to a great deal of inconvenience to +attend an auction, they do not like to return empty-handed. A day is +more obviously wasted if one goes home with nothing to show than if one +brings a table or a bedstead purchased at twice its proper value. Thus +the bidding at Hyacinth’s auction was brisk, and the prices such as gave +sincere satisfaction to the auctioneer. Everything was sold except ‘the +valuable library.’ It was in vain that the auctioneer made personal +appeals to Father Moran and the Rector of Clifden, as presumably the +two most learned gentlemen present. Neither of them wanted the venerable +classics. In fact, neither of them could have read a line of the crooked +Greek type or construed a page of the Latin authors. Even the Irish +books, in spite of the Gaelic revival, found no purchasers. When all was +over, Hyacinth wheeled them away in barrowfuls, wondering greatly what +he was to do with them. + +Indeed, the disposal of his library was not the chief of his +perplexities. He wondered also what he was to do with himself. When the +auctioneer sent in his cheque, and the London Committee of the Mission +had paid over certain arrears of salary, Hyacinth found himself the +possessor of nearly two hundred pounds. It seemed to him quite a large +fortune, amply sufficient to start life with, if only some suitable way +of employing brains, energy, and money would suggest itself. In order to +consider the important topic at his leisure, he hired the only lodging +in Carrowkeel--the apartment (it was both bed and sitting room) over Mr. +Rafferty’s public-house. The furniture had suffered during the tenancy +of a series of Congested Districts Board officials. An engineer, who +went to sleep in the evenings over the fire, had burnt a round hole in +the hearthrug. An instructor in fish-curing, a hilarious young man, +had cracked the mirror over the mantelpiece, and broken many ornaments, +including the fellow of the large china dog which now mourned its mate +on the sideboard. Other gentlemen had been responsible for dislocating +the legs of two chairs and a disorganization of the handle, which made +it impossible to shut the door from the inside. The chief glory of the +apartment, however, still remained--a handsomely-framed document, +signed by Earl Spencer, then Lord Lieutenant, ordering the arrest of the +present Mr. Rafferty’s father as a person dangerous to the Commonwealth. + +The first thing which brought Hyacinth’s meditations to a definite point +was a letter he received from Dr. Henry. + +‘I do not know,’ the professor wrote, ‘and of course I do not wish +to inquire, how you are situated financially; but if, as I suppose is +likely, you are obliged in the near future to earn your living, I may +perhaps be of some help to you. You have taken your B.A. degree, and are +so far qualified either to accept a post as a schoolmaster in an English +preparatory school or to seek ordination from some Bishop. As you are +probably aware, none of our Irish Bishops will accept a man who has +not completed his divinity course. Several English Bishops, however, +especially in the northern province, are willing to ordain men who have +nothing more than a University degree, always supposing that they pass +the required examination. I shall be quite willing to give you a letter +of recommendation to one of these Bishops, and I have no doubt that +a curacy could be found for you in one of the northern manufacturing +towns, where you would have an ample sphere for useful work.’ + +The letter went on to urge the advisability of Hyacinth’s suppressing, +disguising, or modifying his political opinions, which, stated nakedly, +were likely to beget a certain prejudice in the well-balanced episcopal +mind, and in any case would be quite out of place among the operatives +of Yorkshire or Lancashire. + +Hyacinth recognised and appreciated Dr. Henry’s kindness. He even tried +to bring himself to consider the offer seriously and carefully, but it +was no use. He could not conceive himself as likely to be either useful +or happy amid the hustling commercialism of the Manchester streets or +the staid proprieties of an Anglican vicarage. + +After he had spent about a week in his new lodging, Father Moran called +on him. The priest sat beside the fire for more than an hour chatting +in a desultory manner. He drank tea and smoked, and it was not until he +rose to go that the real object of his visit appeared. + +‘I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, Mr. Conneally, and maybe +I’ve no right to ask.’ + +‘I wouldn’t have the least objection to telling you,’ said Hyacinth, ‘if +I knew myself; but I haven’t my mind made up.’ + +The priest put down his hat again, and settled himself with his back to +the fire and his hands in his pockets. Hyacinth sat down, and during the +pause which followed contemplated the wonderful number and variety of +the stains on the black waistcoat in front of him. + +‘Then you’ve given up the idea of finishing your divinity course?’ said +the priest. ‘I’m not blaming you in the least. There’s men that studying +suits, and there’s men that it doesn’t. I never was much of a one for +books myself.’ + +He sighed heavily, perhaps at the recollection of his own struggles with +the mysteries of theology in his Maynooth student days. Then he walked +over and closed the door, returned, drew a chair close to Hyacinth, and +spoke in the tone of a man who imparts an important secret. + +‘Did you hear that Thady Durkan’s giving up the fishing? Since he broke +his arm he declares he’ll never step aboard the boat again. You know the +St. Bridget. She’s not one of the biggest boats, but she’s a very lucky +one. She made over five hundred pounds last year, besides the share the +Board took. She was built at Baltimore, and the Board spent over two +hundred pounds on her, nets and gear and all. There’s only one year more +of instalments to pay off the price of her, and Thady has the rest of +the men bought out. There’s nobody owns a stick or a net or a sail of +her except himself, barring, of course, what’s due to the Board.’ + +Hyacinth was sufficiently acquainted with the system on which the +Congested Districts Board provides the Connaught fishermen with boats +and nets to understand Father Moran’s rather involved statement +of Durkan’s financial position. He did not yet grasp why all this +information should have been conveyed to him in such a solemn and +mysterious tone. + +‘You might have the _St. Bridget_,’ said the priest, ‘for one hundred +and fifty pounds down.’ + +He paused to let the full glory of the situation lay hold upon Hyacinth. +Perhaps he expected an outburst of delight and surprise, but none came. + +‘Mind you,’ he said, ‘there’s others looking for her. The men that +worked with Thady are thinking of making him an offer, and I dare say +the Board would be glad enough to have the boat owned among them; but I +can put in a word myself both with Thady and the inspector. Faith, the +times is changed since I was a young man. I can remember when a priest +was no more thought of than a barefooted gossure out of a bog, and now +there isn’t a spalpeen of a Government inspector but lifts his hat to me +in the street. Oh, a note from me will go a good way with the Board, +and you’ll not miss the chance for want of my good word--I promise you +that.’ + +‘Thank you,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Mind you, there’s a good thing to be made out of her. But sure you know +that as well as I do myself, and maybe better. What do you say now?’ + +‘I’ll think it over,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and whatever comes of it I’ll be +greatly obliged to you.’ + +‘Well, don’t be delaying too long. And look you here’--his voice sank +almost to a whisper--‘don’t be talking about what I’ve said to you. +People are queer, and if Father Joyce down in Clifden came to hear +that I was working for a Protestant he’d be sure to go talking to the +Archbishop, and I’d never get to the end of the fuss that would be +made.’ + +‘Indeed, it’s very good of you, especially considering who I am--I mean, +my father being a convert, and----’ + +‘Say no more,’ said the priest--‘say no more. Your father was a good +man, Catholic or Protestant. I’m not one of these bitter kind of +priests, Mr. Conneally. I can be a good Catholic without hating my +neighbours. I don’t hold with all this bullyragging in newspapers about +“sourfaces” and “saved.” Maybe that’s the reason that I’m stuck down +here at the other end of nowhere all my life, and never got promotion +or praise. But what do I care as long as they let me alone to do my work +for the people? I’m not afraid to say it to you, Mr. Conneally, for you +won’t want to get me into trouble, but it’s my belief that there’s many +of our priests would rather have grand churches than contented people. +They’re fonder of Rome than they are of Ireland.’ + +‘Really, Father Moran,’ said Hyacinth, smiling, ‘if you go on like this, +I shall expect to hear of your turning Protestant.’ + +‘God forbid, Mr. Conneally! I wish you well. I wish you to be here among +us, and to be prosperous; but the dearest wish of my heart for you is +that I might see you back in the Catholic Church, believing the creed of +your forefathers.’ + +The priest’s suggestion attracted Hyacinth a great deal more than Dr. +Henry’s. He liked the sea and the fishing, and he loved the simple +people among whom he had been brought up. His experiences in Dublin had +not encouraged him to be ambitious. Life in the great world--it was thus +that he thought of the bickerings of the Dublin Nationalists and the +schoolboy enthusiasms of college students--was not a very simple +thing. There was a complexity and a confusion in affairs which made +it difficult to hold to any cause devotedly. It seemed to him, looking +back, that Miss Goold’s ideals--and she had ideals, as he knew--were +somehow vulgarized in their contact with the actual. He had seen +something of the joy she found in her conflict with O’Rourke, and it did +not seem to him to be pure or ennobling. At one time he was on the verge +of deciding to do what the priest wished. Walking day by day along the +shore or through the fields, he came to think that life might very +well be spent without ambitious or extended hopes in quiet toil and +unexciting pleasures. What held him back was the recollection, which +never ceased to haunt him, of his father’s prophecy. The thought of +the great fight, declared to be imminent, stirred in him an emotion so +strong that the peace and monotony he half desired became impossible. +He never made it clear to himself that he either believed or disbelieved +the prediction. He certainly did not expect to see an actual gathering +of armed men, or that Ireland was to be the scene of a battle like those +in South Africa. But there was in him a conviction that Ireland was +awakening out of a long sleep, was stretching her limbs in preparation +for activity. He felt the quiver of a national strenuousness which was +already shaking loose the knots of the old binding-ropes of prejudice +and cowardice. It seemed to him that bone was coming to dry bone, and +that sooner or later--very soon, it was likely--one would breathe on +these, and they would live. That contest should come out of such a +renaissance was inevitable. But what contest? Against whom was the new +Ireland to fight, and who was truly on her side? Here was the puzzle, +insoluble but insistent. It would not let him rest, recurring to his +mind with each fresh recollection of his father’s prophecy. + +It was while he was wearying himself with this perplexity that he got +a letter from Augusta Goold. It was characteristic of her that she had +written no word of sympathy when she heard of his father’s death, and +now, when a letter did come, it contained no allusion to Hyacinth’s +affairs. She told him with evident delight that she had enlisted no less +than ten recruits for the Boer army. She had collected sufficient money +to equip them and pay their travelling expenses. It was arranged that +they were to proceed to Paris, and there join a body of volunteers +organized by a French officer, a certain Pierre de Villeneuve, about +whom Miss Goold was enthusiastic. She was in communication with an +Irishman who seemed likely to be a suitable captain for her little band, +and she wanted Hyacinth back in Dublin to help her. + +‘You know,’ she wrote, ‘the people I have round me here. Poor old Grealy +is quite impracticable, though he means well. He talks about nothing +but the Fianna and Finn McCool, and can’t see that my fellows must have +riding lessons, and must be got somehow to understand the mechanism of +a rifle. Tim Halloran has been in a sulk ever since I told him what I +thought of his conduct at the Rotunda. He never comes near me, and Mary +O’Dwyer told me the other day that he called my volunteers a “pack of +blackguards.” I dare say it’s perfectly true, but they’re a finer kind +of blackguard than the sodden loafers the English recruit for their +miserable army.’ + +She went on to describe the series of Boer victories which had come one +after another just at Christmas-time. She was confident that the cause +of freedom and nationality would ultimately triumph, and she foresaw the +intervention of some Continental Power. A great blow would be struck at +the already tottering British Empire, and then--the freedom of Ireland. + +Hyacinth felt strangely excited as he read her news. The letter seemed +the first clear note of the trumpet summoning him to his father’s +Armageddon. Politics and squabbling at home might be inglorious and +degrading, but the actual war which was being waged in South Africa, +the struggle of a people for existence and liberty, could be nothing but +noble. He saw quite clearly what his own next step was to be, and there +was no temptation to hesitate about it. He would place his money at Miss +Goold’s disposal, and go himself with her ten volunteers to join the +brigade of the heroic de Villeneuve. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +The prospect of joining Augusta Goold’s band of volunteers and going to +South Africa to fight afforded Hyacinth great satisfaction. For two days +he lived in an atmosphere of day-dreams and delightful anticipations. He +had no knowledge whatever of the actual conditions of modern warfare. +He understood vaguely that he would be called upon to endure great +hardships. He liked to think of these, picturing himself bravely +cheerful through long periods of hunger, heat, or cold. He had visions +of night watches, of sudden alarms, of heart-stirring skirmishes, of +scouting work, and stealthy approaches to the enemy’s lines. He thought +out the details of critical interviews with commanding officers in +which he with some chosen comrade volunteered for incredibly dangerous +enterprises. He conceived of himself as wounded, though not fatally, and +carried to the rear out of some bullet-swept firing-line. He was just +twenty-three years of age. Adventure had its fascination, and the world +was still a place full of splendid possibilities. + +At the end of his two days of dreaming he returned, flushed with his +great purposes, to the realities of life. He went to Father Moran to +tell him that he would not buy Durkan’s boat. He laughed to himself +at the thought of doing such a thing. Was he to spend his life fishing +mackerel round the rocky islands of Connemara, when he might be fighting +like one of the ancient heroes, giving his strength, perhaps his life, +for a great cause? The priest met him at the presbytery door. + +‘Come in, Mr. Conneally--come in and sit down. I was expecting you these +two days. What were you doing at all, walking away there along the rocks +by yourself? The people were beginning to say that you were getting to +be like your poor father, and that nobody’d ever get any good out of +you. But I knew you’d come back to me here. I hope now it’s to tell me +that you’ll buy the boat you’ve come.’ + +They entered the house, and the priest opened the door of the little +sitting-room. Hyacinth knew it well. There was the dark mahogany table +with the marks burnt into it where hot dishes were set down, the shabby +arm-chair, the worn cocoanut-matting on the floor, the dozen or so books +in the hanging shelf, the tawdry sacred pictures round the wall. He had +known it all, and it all seemed unchanged since he was a child. + +‘Sit you down--sit you down,’ said the priest. ‘And now about the boat.’ + +‘I’m not going in for her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I’m as thankful to you for +suggesting it as if I did buy her. I hope you’ll understand that, but +I’m not going to buy her.’ + +He found it difficult to speak of his new plan to Father Moran. + +‘Do you tell me that, now? I’m sorry for it. And why wouldn’t you buy +her? What’s there to hinder you?’ + +Hyacinth hesitated. + +‘Well, now,’ said the priest, ‘I can guess. I thought the auction turned +out well for you, but I never heard for certain, and maybe you haven’t +got the money for the boat. Whisht now, my son, and let me speak. I’m +thinking the thing might be managed.’ + +‘But, Father Moran------’ + +‘Ah now, will you be quiet when I bid you? I haven’t the money myself. +Never a penny have I been able to save all my life, with the calls there +are on me in a parish like this. Sure, you know yourself how it is. +There’s one will have a cow that has died on him, and another will be +wanting a lock of potatoes for seed in the springtime; and if it isn’t +that, it’ll be something else. And who would the creatures go to in +their trouble but the old priest that christened and married the most +of them? But, indeed, thanks be to God, things is improving. The fishing +brings in a lot of money to the men, and there’s a better breed of +cattle in the country now, and the pigs fetch a good price since we had +the railway to Clifden, and maybe the last few years I might have saved +a little, but I didn’t. Indeed, I don’t know where it is the money goes +at all, but someway it’s never at rest in my breeches pockets till it’s +up and off somewhere. God forgive us! it’s more careful we ought to be.’ + +‘But, Father Moran, I don’t----’ + +‘Arrah then, will you cease your talking for one minute, and let me get +a word in edgeways for your own good? What was I saying? Oh, I was just +after telling you I hadn’t got the money to help you. But maybe I might +manage to get it. The man in the bank in Clifden knows me. I borrowed a +few pounds off him two years ago when the Cassidys’ house and three more +beside it got blown away in the big wind. Father Joyce put his name on +the back of the bill along with my own, and trouble enough I had to get +him to do it, for he said I ought to put an appeal in the newspapers, +and I’d get the money given to me. But I never was one to go begging +round the country. I said I’d rather borrow the money and pay it back +like a decent man. And so I did, every penny of it. And I think the bank +will trust me now, with just your name and mine, more especially as +it’s to buy a boat we want the money. What do you say to that, now?’ He +looked at Hyacinth triumphantly. + +‘Father Moran, you’re too good to me--you’re too good altogether. What +did ever I do to deserve such kindness from you? But you’re all wrong. +I’ve got plenty of money.’ + +‘And why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t you tell me so at once, +and not keep me standing here twisting my brains into hard knots with +thinking out ways of getting what you don’t want? If you’ve got the +money you’ll buy the boat. What better could you do with it?’ + +‘But I don’t want to buy the boat. I don’t want to live here always. I’m +going away out into the world. I want to see things and do things.’ + +‘Out into the world! Will you listen to the boy? Is it America you’re +thinking of? Ah, now, there’s enough gone out and left us lonely here. +Isn’t the best of all the boys and girls going to work for the strangers +in the strange land? and why would you be going after them?’ + +‘I’m not going to America. I’m going to South Africa. I’m going to join +some young Irishmen to fight for the Boers and for freedom.’ + +‘You’re going out to fight--to fight for the Boers! What is it that’s in +your head at all, Hyacinth Conneally? Tell me now.’ + +Again Hyacinth hesitated. Was it possible to give utterance to the +thoughts and hopes which filled his mind? Could he tell anyone about +the furious fancies of the last few days, or of that weird vision of +his father’s which lay at the back of what he felt and dreamed? Could +he even speak of the enthusiasm which moved him to devote himself to the +cause of freedom and a threatened nationality? In the presence of a man +of the world the very effort to express himself would have acted as some +corrosive acid, and stained with patches of absurdity the whole fabric +of his dreams. He looked at Father Moran, and saw the priest’s eyes lit +with sympathy. He knew that he had a listener who would not scoff, who +might, perhaps, even understand. He began to speak, slowly and haltingly +at first, then more rapidly. At last he poured out with breathless, +incoherent speed the strange story of the Armageddon vision, the hopes +that were in him, the fierce enthusiasm, the passionate love for +Ireland which burnt in his soul. He was not conscious of the gaping +inconsequences of his train of emotion. He did not recognise how +ridiculous it was to connect the Boer War with the Apocalyptic battle +of the saints, or the utter impossibility of getting either one or the +other into any sort of relation with the existing condition of Ireland. + +A casual observer might have supposed that Hyacinth had made a mistake +in telling his story to Father Moran. A smile, threatening actual +laughter, hovered visibly round the priest’s mouth. His eyes had a +shrewd, searching expression, difficult to interpret. Still, he listened +to the rhapsody without interrupting it, till Hyacinth stopped abruptly, +smitten with sudden self-consciousness, terrified of imminent ridicule. +Nor were the priest’s first words reassuring. + +‘I wouldn’t say now, Hyacinth Conneally, but there might be the makings +of a fine man in you yet.’ + +‘I might have known,’ said Hyacinth angrily, ‘that you’d laugh at me. I +was a fool to tell you at all. But I’m in earnest about what I’m going +to do. Whatever you may think about the rest, there’s no laughing at +that.’ + +‘Well, you’re just wrong then, for I wasn’t laughing nor meaning to +laugh at all. God forbid that I should laugh at you, and I meant it when +I said that there was the makings of a fine man in you. Laugh at you! +It’s little you know me. Listen now, till I tell you something; but +don’t you be repeating it. This must be between you and me, and go no +further. I was very much of your way of thinking myself once.’ + +Hyacinth gazed at him in astonishment. The thought of Father Moran, +elderly, rotund, kindly; of Father Moran with sugar-stick in his pocket +for the school-children and a quaint jest on his lips for their mothers; +of Father Moran in his ruffled silk hat and shabby black coat and baggy +trousers--of this Father Moran mounted and armed, facing the British +infantry in South Africa, was wholly grotesque. He laughed aloud. + +‘It’s yourself that has the bad manners to be laughing now,’ said +the priest. ‘But small blame to you if it was out to the Boers I was +thinking of going. The gray goose out there on the road might laugh--and +she’s the solemnest mortal I know--at the notion of me charging along +with maybe a pike in my hand, and the few gray hairs that’s left on the +sides of my head blowing about in the breeze I’d make as I went prancing +to and fro. But that’s not what I meant when I said that once upon a +time I was something of your way of thinking. And sure enough I was, but +it’s a long time ago now.’ + +He sighed, and for a minute or two he said no more. Hyacinth began +to wonder what he meant, and whether the promised confidence would be +forthcoming at all. Then the priest went on: + +‘When I was a young man--and it’s hard for you to think it, but I was a +fine young man; never a better lad at the hurling than I was, me that’s +a doddering old soggarth now--when I was a boy, as I’m telling you, +there was a deal of going to and fro in the country and meetings at +night, and drillings too, and plenty of talk of a rising--no less. +Little good came of it that ever I saw, but I’m not blaming the men that +was in it. They were good men, Hyacinth Conneally--men that would have +given the souls out of their bodies for the sake of Ireland. They would, +sure, for they loved Ireland well. But I had my own share in the doings. +Of course, it was before ever there was a word of my being a priest. +That came after. Thanks be to God for His mercies’--the old man crossed +himself reverently--‘He kept me from harm and the sin that might have +been laid on me. But in those days there were great thoughts in me, just +as there are in you to-day. Faith! I’m of opinion that my thoughts were +greater than yours, for I was all for fighting here in Ireland, for the +Poor Old Woman herself, and it’s out to some foreign war you’d be +going to fight for people that’s not friends of yours by so much as one +heart’s drop. Still, the feeling in you is the same as the feeling that +was in me, not a doubt of it. But, indeed, so far as I’m concerned, it’s +over and gone. I haven’t spoken to a mortal soul about such things these +thirty years, and I wouldn’t be doing it now only just to show you that +I’m the last man in Ireland that would laugh at you for what you’ve told +me.’ + +‘I’m glad I told you what’s in my heart,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I’d like to +think I had your blessing with me when I go.’ + +‘Well, you won’t get it,’ said Father Moran, ‘so I tell you straight. +I’ll give you no blessing when you’re going away out of the country, +just when there’s need of every man in it. I tell you this--and you’ll +remember that I know what I’m talking about--it’s not men that ’ll fight +who will help Ireland to-day, but men that will work.’ + +‘Work!’ said Hyacinth--‘work! What work is there for a man like me to do +in Ireland?’ + +‘Don’t I offer you the chance of buying Thady Durkan’s boat? Isn’t there +work enough for any man in her?’ + +‘But that’s not the sort of work I ought to be doing. What good would +it be to anyone but myself? What good would it be to Ireland if I caught +boatloads of mackerel?’ + +‘Don’t be making light of the mackerel, now. He’s a good fish if you get +him fresh, and split him down and fry him with a lump of butter in the +pan. There’s worse fish than the mackerel, as you’ll discover if you go +to South Africa, and find yourself living on a bit of some ancient tough +beast of an ostrich, or whatever it may happen to be that they eat out +there.’ + +In his exalted mood Hyacinth felt insulted at the praise of the mackerel +and the laughter in the priest’s eyes when he suggested a dinner off +ostrich. He held out his hand, and said good-bye. + +‘Wait, now--wait,’ said the priest; ‘don’t be in such a tearing hurry. +I’ll talk as serious as you like, and not hurt your feelings, if you’ll +stay for a minute or two. Listen, now. Isn’t the language dying on the +people’s lips? They’re talking the English, more and more of them every +day; and don’t you know as well as I do that when they lose their Irish +they’ll lose half the good that’s in them? What sort will the next +generation of our people be, with their own language gone from them, and +their Irish ways forgotten, and all the old tales and songs and tunes +perished away like the froth of the waves that the storm blew up across +the fields the night your father died? I’ll tell you what they’ll +be--just sham Englishmen. And the Lord knows the real thing is not the +best kind of man in the world, but the copy of an Englishman! sure, +that’s the poorest creature to be found anywhere on the face of God’s +good earth. And that’s what we’ll be, when the Irish is gone from us. +Wouldn’t there be work enough for you to do, now, if you were to buy +Thady Durkan’s boat, and stay here and help to keep the people to the +old tongue and the old ways?’ + +Hyacinth shook his head. His mood was altogether too heroic to allow +him to think highly of what the priest said to him. He loved the Irish +language as his native speech--loved it, too, as a symbol, and something +more, perhaps--as an expression of the nationality of Ireland. But it +did not seem to him to be a very essential thing, and to spend his life +talking it and persuading other people to talk it was an obscure kind of +patriotism which made no strong appeal to him--which, indeed, could not +stand compared to the glory of drawing the sword. + +‘You’ve listened to what I’ve told you, Father Moran, and you say that +you understand what I feel, but I don’t think you really do, or else you +wouldn’t fancy that I could be satisfied to stay here. What is it you +ask of me? To spend my time fishing and talking Irish and dancing jigs. +Ah! it’s well enough I’d like to do it. Don’t think that such a life +wouldn’t be pleasant to me. It would be too pleasant. That’s what’s the +matter with it. It’s a temptation, and not a duty, that you’re setting +before me.’ + +‘Maybe it is now--maybe it is. And if it’s that way you think of it, +you’re right enough to say no to me. But for all that I understand you +well enough. Who’s this now coming up to the house to see me?’ He went +over to the window and looked out. ‘Isn’t it a queer life a priest lives +in a place like this, with never a minute of quiet peace from morning to +night but somebody will be coming interrupting and destroying it? First +it’s you, Hyacinth Conneally--not that I grudge the time to you when +you’re going off so soon--and now it’s Michael Kavanagh. Indeed, he’s +a decent man too, like yourself. Come in, Michael--come in. Don’t be +standing there pulling at the old door-bell. You know as well as myself +it’s broken these two years. It’s heartbroken the thing is ever since +that congested engineer put up the electric bell for me, and little +use that was, seeing that Biddy O’Halloran--that’s my housekeeper, Mr. +Conneally; you remember her--poured a jug of hot water into its inside +the way it wouldn’t annoy her with ringing so loud. And why the noise +of it vexed her I couldn’t say, for she’s as deaf as a post every time +I speak to her. Ah, you’re there, Michael, are you? Now, what do you +want?’ + +A young farmer, black-haired, tall and straight, stood in the doorway +with his hat in his hand. He had brought a paper for Father Moran’s +signature. It related to a bull which the Congested Districts Board +proposed to lend to the parish, and of which Kavanagh had been chosen +to be custodian. A long conversation followed, conducted in Irish. The +newly-erected habitation for the animal was discussed; then the best +method of bringing him home from Clifden Station; then the kind of +beast he was likely to turn out to be, and the suitability of particular +breeds of cattle to the coarse, brine-soaked land of Carrowkeel. +Kavanagh related a fearful tale of a lot of ‘foreign’ fowls which had +been planted in the neighbourhood by the Board. They were particularly +nice to look at, and settings of their eggs were eagerly booked long +beforehand. Then one by one they sickened and died. Some people thought +they died out of spite, being angered at the way they had been treated +in the train. Kavanagh himself did not think so badly of them. He was of +opinion that their spirits were desolated in them with the way the rain +came through the roof of their house, and that their feet got sore with +walking on the unaccustomed sea-sand. However their death was to be +explained, he hoped that the bull would turn out to be hardier. Father +Moran, on his part, hoped that the roof of the bull’s house would +turn out to be sounder. In the end the paper was signed, and Kavanagh +departed. + +‘Now, there,’ said the priest, ‘is a fine young man. Only for him, I +don’t know how I’d get on in the parish at all. He’s got a head on his +shoulders, and a notion of improving himself and his neighbours, and it +would do you good to see him dance a jig. But why need I tell you that +when you’ve seen him yourself? He is to be the secretary of the Gaelic +League when we get a branch of it started in Carrowkeel. And a good +secretary he’ll make, for his heart will be in the work. I dare say, +now, you’ve heard of the League when you were up in Dublin. Well, you’ll +hear more of it. By the time you’re back here again---- Now, don’t be +saying that you’ll not come back. I’ll give you a year to get sick of +fighting for the Boers, and then there’ll be a hunger on you for the old +place that will bring you back to it in spite of yourself.’ + +‘Good-bye, Father Moran. Whatever happens to me, I’ll not forget +Carrowkeel nor you either. You’ve been good to me, and if I don’t take +your advice and stay where I am, it’s not through want of gratitude.’ + +The priest wrung his hand. + +‘You’ll come back. It may be after I’m dead and gone, but back you’ll +come. Here or somewhere else in the old country you’ll spend your days +working for Ireland, because you’ll have learnt that working is better +than fighting.’ + + + + +CHAPTER X + +When Hyacinth got back to Dublin about the middle of February, the +streets were gay with amateur warriors. The fever for volunteering, +which laid hold on the middle classes after the series of regrettable +incidents of the winter, raged violently among the Irish Loyalists. +Nowhere were the recruiting officers more fervently besieged than in +Dublin. Youthful squireens who boasted of being admirable snipe shots, +and possessed a knowledge of all that pertained to horses, struggled +with prim youths out of banks for the privilege of serving as troopers. +The sons of plump graziers in the West made up parties with footmen +out of their landlords’ mansions, and arrived in Dublin hopeful of +enlistment. Light-hearted undergraduates of Trinity, drapers’ assistants +of dubious character, and the crowd of nondescripts whose time is spent +in preparing for examinations which they fail to pass, leaped at the +opportunity of winning glory and perhaps wealth in South Africa. Those +who were fortunate enough to be selected were sent to the Curragh to +be broken in to their new profession. They were clothed, to their own +intense delight, in that peculiar shade of yellow which is supposed to +be a help to the soldier in his efforts not to be shot. Their legs were +screwed into putties and breeches incredibly tight round the knees, +which expanded rapidly higher up, and hung round their hips in +voluminous folds. Their jackets were covered with a multiplicity of +quaint little pockets, sewed on in unexpected places, and each provided +with a flap which buttoned over it. The name of the artist who designed +this costume has perished, nor does there remain any written record +of the use which these tightly-secured pocket-covers were supposed to +serve. Augusta Goold suggested that perhaps they were meant to prevent +the troopers’ money from falling out in the event of any commanding +officer ordering his men to receive the enemy standing on their heads. +‘In the light of the intelligence displayed by the English Generals up +to the present,’ she said, ‘the War Office is quite right to be prepared +for such a thing happening.’ + +It seemed possible to procure almost any amount of leave from the +Curragh, and the yeomen delighted to spend it in promenading the +fashionable streets of the metropolis. The tea-shops reaped a rich +harvest from the regal way in which they treated their female relatives +and friends. Indeed, their presence must have seriously disorganized the +occupations by which young women earn their living. It was difficult to +imagine that the sick in the hospitals could have been properly looked +after, or the letters of solicitors typewritten, so great was the number +of damsels who attached themselves to these attractive heroes. The +philosophic observer found another curious subject for speculation in +the fact that this parade of military splendour took place in a city +whose population sympathized intensely with the Boer cause, and was +accustomed to receive the news of a British defeat with delight. The +Dublin artisan viewed the yeomen much as the French in Paris must have +looked upon the allied troops who entered their city after Waterloo. +The very name by which they were called had an anti-national sound, and +suggested the performance of other amateur horse-soldiers in Wexford a +century earlier. + +The little band whose writings filled the pages of the _Croppy_ were +more than anyone else enraged at the flaunting of Imperialism in their +streets. They had rejoiced quite openly after Christmas, and called +attention every week in prose and poetry to the moribund condition of +the British Empire, even boasting as if they themselves had borne a part +in its humiliation. They were still in a position to assert that the +Boers were victorious, and that the volunteers were likely to do no more +than exhaust the prison accommodation at Pretoria. They could and did +compose biting jests, but their very bitterness witnessed to a deep +disappointment. It was not possible to deny that the despised English +garrison in Ireland was displaying a wholly unlooked-for spirit. No one +could have expected that West Britons and ‘Seonini’ would have wanted to +fight. Very likely, when the time came, they would run away; but in +the meanwhile here they were, swaggering through the streets of Dublin, +outward and visible signs of a force in the country hostile to the hopes +of the _Croppy_, a force that some day Republican Ireland would have to +reckon with. + +Augusta Goold herself was more tolerant and more philosophic than her +friends. She looked at the yeomen with a certain admiration. Their +exuberant youthfulness, their strutting, and their obvious belief in +themselves, made a strong appeal to her imagination. + +‘Look at that young man,’ she said to Hyacinth, pointing out a volunteer +who passed them in the street. ‘I happen to know who he is. In fact, I +knew his people very well indeed at one time, and spent a fortnight with +them once when that young man was a toddler, and sometimes sat on my +knee--at least, he may have sat on my knee. There were a good many +children, and at this distance of time I can’t be certain which of them +it was that used to worry me most during the hour before dinner. The +father is a landlord in the North, and comes of a fine old family. He’s +a strong Protestant, and English, of course, in all his sympathies. +Well, a hundred years or so ago that boy’s great-grandfather was +swaggering about these same streets in a uniform, just as his descendant +is doing now. He helped to drag a cannon into the Phoenix Park one day +with a large placard tied over its muzzle--“Our rights or----” Who do +you think he was threatening? Just the same England that this boy is so +keen to fight for to-day!’ + +‘Ah,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you are thinking of the volunteer movement of +1780.’ + +‘Afterwards,’ she went on, ‘he was one of the incorruptibles. You’ll +see his name on Jonah Barrington’s red list. He stood out to the +last against the Union, wouldn’t be bribed, and fought two duels with +Castlereagh’s bravoes. The curious thing is that the present man is +quite proud of that ancestor in a queer, inconsistent sort of way. Says +the only mark of distinction his family can boast of is that they didn’t +get a Union peerage. Strange, isn’t it?’ + +‘It is strange,’ said Hyacinth. ‘The Irish gentry of 1782 were men to be +proud of; yet look at their descendants to-day.’ + +‘It is very sad. Do you know, I sometimes think that Ireland will never +get her freedom till those men take it for her. Almost every struggle +that Ireland ever made was captained by her aristocracy. Think of the +Geraldines and the O’Neills. Think of Sarsfield and the Wild Geese. +Think of the men who wrenched a measure of independence from England in +1782. Think of Lord Edward and Smith O’Brien. No, we may talk and write +and agitate, but we’ll _do_ nothing till we get the old families with +us.’ + +Hyacinth laughed. It seemed to him that Miss Goold was deliberately +talking nonsense, rejoicing in a paradox. + +‘We are likely to wait, if we wait for them. Look at those.’ He waved +his hand towards a group of yeomen who were chatting at the street +corner. ‘They are going to stamp out a nation in South Africa. Is it +likely that they will create one here?’ + +‘It is not likely’--she sighed as she spoke--‘yet stranger things than +that have happened. Have you ever considered what the present English +policy in Ireland really is? Do you understand that they are trying to +keep us quiet by bribing the priests? They think that the Protestants +are powerless, or that they will be loyal no matter what happens. But +think: These Protestants have been accustomed for generations to regard +themselves as a superior race. They conceive themselves to have a +natural right to govern. Now they are being snubbed and insulted. There +isn’t an English official from their Lord Lieutenant down but thinks he +is quite safe in ignoring the Protestants, and is only anxious to +make himself agreeable to the priests. That’s the beginning. Very soon +they’ll be bullied as well as snubbed. They will stand a good deal of +it, because, like most strong people, they are very stupid and slow at +understanding; but do you suppose they will always stand it?’ + +‘They’re English, and not Irish,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I suppose they like +what their own people do.’ + +‘It’s a lie. They are not English, though they say it themselves. In the +end they will find out that they are Irish. Some day a last insult, a +particularly barefaced robbery, or an intolerable oppression, will awake +them. Then they’ll turn on the people that betrayed them. They will +discover that Ireland--their Ireland--isn’t meant to be a cabbage-garden +for Manchester, nor yet a _crêche_ for sucking priests. Ah! it will be +good to be alive when they find themselves. We shall be within reach of +the freedom of Ireland then.’ + +Hyacinth was amazed at her vehement admiration for the class she was +accustomed to anathematize. He turned her words over and over in his +mind. They recalled, as so many different things seemed to do, his +father’s vision of an Armageddon. Amid the confusion of Irish politics +this thought of a Protestant and aristocratic revolt was strangely +attractive; only it seemed to be wholly impossible. He bewildered +himself in the effort to arrange the pieces of the game into some +reasonable order. What was to be thought of a priesthood who, contrary +to all the traditions of their Church, had nursed a revolution against +the rights of property? or of a people, amazingly quick of apprehension, +idealistic of temperament, who time after time submitted themselves +blindfold to the tyranny of a single leader, worshipped a man, and asked +no questions about his policy? How was he to place an aristocracy who +refused to lead, and persisted in whining about their wrongs to the +inattentive shopkeepers of English towns, gentlemen not wanting in +honour and spirit courting a contemptuous bourgeoisie with ridiculous +flatteries? In what reasonable scheme of things was it possible to +place Protestants, blatant in their boasts about liberty, who hugged +subjection to a power which deliberately fostered the growth of +an ecclesiastical tyranny? Where amid this crazy dance of +self-contradictory fanatics and fools was a sane man to find a place on +which to stand? How, above all, was Ireland, a nation, to evolve itself? + +He turned with relief from these perplexities to the work that lay +before him. However a man might worry and befog himself over the +confused issues of politics, it was at all events a straightforward +and simple matter to fight, and Hyacinth was going to the front as the +eleventh Irish volunteer. + +To do Miss Goold justice, she had been extremely unwilling to enrol him, +and had refused to take a penny of his money. Her conscience, such as +it was after years of patriotic endeavour, rebelled against committing a +young man whom she really liked to the companionship of the men she had +enlisted and the care of their commander, Captain Albert Quinn. + +This gentleman, whom she daily expected in Dublin, belonged to County +Mayo. He represented himself as a member of an ancient but impoverished +family, boasted of his military experience, and professed to be +profoundly skilled in all matters relating to horses. Miss Goold’s +inquiries elicited the fact that he held an undefined position under +his brother, a respectable manufacturer of woollen goods. His military +experience had been gathered during the few months he held a commission +in the militia battalion of the Connaught Rangers, an honourable +position which he had resigned because his brother officers persistently +misunderstood his methods of winning money at cards. No one, however, +was found to deny that he really did possess a wonderful knowledge of +horses. The worst that Miss Goold’s correspondents could suggest with +regard to this third qualification was that he knew too much. None +of these drawbacks to the Captain--he had assumed the title when he +accepted the command of the volunteers--weighed with Miss Goold. Indeed, +she admitted to Mary O’Dwyer, in a moment of frankness, that if her men +weren’t more or less blackguards she couldn’t expect them to go out +to South Africa. She did not speak equally plainly to Hyacinth. She +recollected that he had displayed a very inconvenient kind of morality +when she first knew him, and she believed him quite capable of breaking +away from her influence altogether if he discovered the kind of men she +was willing to work with. + +She did her best to persuade him to give up the idea of joining the +force, by pointing out to him that he was quite unfitted for the work +that would have to be done. + +‘You know nothing about horses,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever +been on the back of one.’ + +Hyacinth admitted that this was true. The inhabitants of Carrowkeel +rarely ride their shaggy ponies, and when they do it is sitting sideways +just above the creatures’ tails, with two creels for turf or seaweed in +the place where the saddle ought to be. + +‘And I don’t suppose you know much about shooting?’ + +Hyacinth was depressed, for he had never pulled a trigger in his life. +In the West of Ireland a man is not allowed to possess a gun unless +a resident magistrate will certify to his loyalty and harmlessness. +Therefore, the inhabitants of villages like Carrowkeel are debarred from +shooting either snipe or seals, and the British Empire stands secure. + +The difficulty about his horsemanship Hyacinth endeavoured to get over. +He arranged with a car-driver of his acquaintance to teach him to groom +and harness his horses. The man possessed two quadrupeds, which he +described as ‘the yellow pony’ and ‘the little mare.’ Hyacinth began +with the yellow pony, the oldest and staidest of the two. The little +mare, who had a temper of her own, gave him more trouble. She disliked +his way of putting the crupper under her tail, and one day, to her +owner’s great delight, ‘rose the divil on them’ when her new groom got +the shaft of the car stuck through her collar. + +The want of experience in shooting was more difficult to get over. +Grealy owned an antiquated army rifle, which he lent to Hyacinth. +It was, of course, entirely different from the Mauser, and it was +impossible to get an opportunity for firing it off. However, there was +some comfort to be found in handling the thing, and taking long and +careful aim at a distant church spire through a window. + +In the face of such enthusiasm, Miss Goold could not refuse her recruit. +She talked to him freely about her plans, and was eloquent about the +spirit and abilities of M. de Villeneuve, who was to take charge of her +soldiers after they joined him in Paris. On the subject of Captain Quinn +she was much more reticent, and she refused altogether to introduce +Hyacinth to his ten fellow troopers. + +‘There’s not the least necessity,’ she said, ‘for you to meet them until +the time for starting comes. In fact, I may say it is safer for none of +you to know each other.’ + +Hyacinth experienced a thrill of agreeable excitement. He felt that he +was engaged in a real conspiracy. + +‘For fear of informers?’ he asked. + +‘Yes. One never can be quite sure of anyone. Of course, they can every +one of them give information against me. You can yourself, if you like. +But no one can betray anyone else, and as long as the men are safe, it +doesn’t matter what happens to me.’ + +It was one of Miss Goold’s weaknesses that she imagined herself to be an +object of hatred and dread to the Government, and nothing irritated her +more than a suspicion that she was not being taken seriously. + +The first glimpse that Hyacinth got of the character of the men among +whom he was to serve came to him through Tim Halloran. Tim was still +sore from the scolding he had been given for his conduct at the +Rotunda meeting, and missed no opportunity of scoffing--not, of course, +publicly, but among his friends--at Miss Goold and her volunteers. +Hyacinth avoided him as much as possible, but one evening he walked up +against him on the narrow footway at the corner of George’s Street. +Halloran was delighted, and seized him by the arm. + +‘You’re the very man I wanted to see,’ he said. ‘Have you heard about +Doherty?’ + +Hyacinth knew no one called Doherty. He said so, and tried to escape, +but Halloran held him fast. + +‘Not know Doherty! How’s that? I thought you were in all dear Finola’s +secrets. Faith! I heard you were going out to fight for the Boers +yourself. I didn’t believe it, of course. You wouldn’t be such a +fool. But I thought you’d know that Doherty is one of the ten precious +recruits, or, rather, _was_ one of them.’ He laughed loudly. ‘He’ll +fight on the other side now, if he fights at all.’ + +‘What do you mean?’ asked Hyacinth uneasily. + +He was not at all sure what view the authorities in Dublin Castle might +take of recruiting for the Boer service, and Miss Goold’s hints about +informers recurred to his mind alarmingly. Perhaps this Doherty was an +informer. + +‘Well,’ said Halloran, ‘I was in one of the police-courts this morning +doing my work for the _Evening Star_. You know I report the police news +for that rag, don’t you? Well, I do. My column is called “The Doom of +the Disorderly.” Rather a good title that for a column of the kind! +There didn’t appear to be anything particular on, just a few ordinary +drunks, until this fellow Doherty was brought in. I thought I recognised +him, and when I heard his name I was certain of my man. He hadn’t done +anything very bad--assaulted a tram-conductor, or some such trifle--and +would have got off with a fine. However, a military man turned up and +claimed him as a deserter. His real name, it appears, is Johnston. He +deserted six weeks ago from the Dublin Fusiliers.’ + +‘How on earth did he impose on Miss Goold?’ asked Hyacinth. + +Halloran looked at him curiously. + +‘Oh, I shouldn’t say he exactly imposed upon Finola. She’s not precisely +a fool, you know, and she has pretty accurate information about most of +the people she deals with.’ + +‘But surely------’ + +Halloran shrugged his shoulders. + +‘My dear fellow, I don’t want to shatter your ideal, but the beautiful +Finola wants to work a revolution, and you can’t do that sort of thing +without soiling your hands. However, whether he imposed on her or not, +there’s no doubt about it that he was a deserter. Why, it appeared that +the fool was tattooed all over the arms and chest, and the military +people had a list of the designs. They had a perfectly plain case, and, +indeed, Doherty made no defence.’ + +‘What will they do with him?’ said Hyacinth, still uneasy about the +possibility of Doherty’s volunteering information. + +‘I don’t know,’ said Halloran. ‘I should think the best punishment would +be to send him out to Ladysmith. I dare say the Boers would pass him +in if the circumstances were explained to them. By the way, it would be +rather funny if he met the other nine out there on a kopje, wouldn’t it? +He might take them prisoners, or they might capture him. Either way the +situation would have its comic possibilities.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Miss Goold lived that part of her life which was not spent at political +meetings or in the office of the _Croppy_ in a villa at Killiney. A +house agent would have described it as a most desirable residence, +standing in its own grounds, overlooking the sea. Its windows opened +upon one of the best of the many beautiful views of Dublin Bay. Its +half-acre of pleasure ground--attended to by a jobbing gardener once a +week--was trim and flowery. Its brown gate shone with frequently renewed +paint, and the drive up to the door was neatly raked. Inside +Miss Goold’s wants were ministered to by an eminently respectable +man-servant, his wife who cooked, and a maid. The married couple were +fixtures, and had been with Miss Goold since she started housekeeping. +The maids varied. They never quarrelled with their mistress, but they +found it impossible to live with their fellow-servants. Mr. and Mrs. +Ginty were North of Ireland Protestants of the severest type. Ginty +himself was a strong Orangeman, and his wife professed and enforced a +strict code of morals. It did not in the least vex Miss Goold to +know that her servants’ quarters were decorated with portraits of the +reigning family in gilt frames, or that King William III. pranced on a +white charger above the kitchen range. Nor had she any objection to her +butler invoking a nightly malediction on the Pope over his tumbler of +whisky-and-water. Unfortunately, her maids--the first three were Roman +Catholics--found that their religious convictions were outraged, and +left, after stormy scenes. The red-haired Protestant from the North who +followed them was indifferent to the eternal destiny of Leo XIII., but +declined to be dictated to by Mrs. Ginty about the conduct of her love +affairs. Miss Goold, to whom the quarrel was referred, pleaded the +damsel’s cause, and suggested privately that not even a policeman--she +had a low opinion of the force--could be swept away from the path of +respectability by a passion for so ugly a girl. Mrs. Ginty pointed out +in reply that red hair and freckles were no safeguard when a flirtation +is carried on after dark. There seemed no answer to this, and the maid +returned indignantly to Ballymena. She was succeeded by an anaemic and +wholly incompetent niece of Mrs. Ginty’s, who lived in such terror of +her aunt that peace settled upon the household. Miss Goold suspected +that this girl did little or no work--was, in fact, wholly unfit for her +position; but so long as she herself was made comfortable, it did not +seem to matter who tidied away her clothes or dusted her bedroom. + +Miss Goold, in fact, had so far mastered the philosophy of life as to +understand that the only real use of money is to purchase comfort and +freedom from minor worries. She had deliberately cut herself adrift from +the social set to which she belonged by birth and education, and so had +little temptation to spend her substance either in giving parties +or enjoying them. The ladies who flutter round the Lord Lieutenant’s +hospitable court would as soon have thought of calling on a music-hall +danseuse as on Miss Goold. Their husbands, brothers, and sons took +liberties with her reputation in the smoking-rooms of the Kildare Street +Club, and professed to be in possession of private information about +her life which placed her outside the charity of even their tolerant +morality. The little circle of revolutionary politicians who gathered +round the _Croppy_ were not the sort of people who gave dinner-parties; +and there is, in spite of the Gospel precept, a certain awkwardness +nowadays in continually asking people to dinner who cannot afford a +retributive invitation. Occasionally, however, Miss Goold did entertain +a few of her friends, and it was generally admitted among them that she +not only provided food and drink of great excellence, but arranged the +appointments of her feasts luxuriously. + +On the very day after his interview with Tim Halloran Hyacinth received +an invitation to dinner at the Killiney villa. Captain Quinn, the +note informed him, had arrived in Dublin, and was anxious to make the +acquaintance of his future comrade-in-arms. It seemed to Hyacinth, +thinking over the story of Doherty, unlikely that the whole corps would +be asked to meet their Captain round a dinner-table, but he hoped that +some of them would be there. Their presence would reconcile him to the +awkwardness of not possessing a dress-suit. Grealy, who had occasionally +dined at the villa, warned him that a white shirt-front and black +trousers would certainly be expected of him, and Hyacinth made an +unsuccessful effort to hire garments for the night which would fit him. +In the end, since it seemed absurd to purchase even a second-hand suit +for a single evening, he brushed his Sunday clothes and bought a pair of +patent-leather shoes. + +He arrived at the platform of Westland Row Station in good time for +the train he meant to catch. He was soon joined by Miss O’Dwyer, who +appeared with her head and neck swathed in a fluffy shawl and the train +of a silk skirt gathered in her hand. The view of several flounces of +nebulous white petticoat confirmed Hyacinth in his conjecture that she +was bound for Miss Goold’s party. No one who could be supposed to be a +member of Captain Quinn’s corps appeared on the platform, and Hyacinth +became painfully conscious of the shortcomings of his costume. He +thought that even Miss O’Dwyer glanced at it with some contempt. He +wished that, failing a dress-suit, he could have imitated the Imperial +Yeomen who paraded the streets, and donned some kind of uniform. His +discomfort reached a climax when Ginty received them at the door, passed +Miss O’Dwyer on to the incompetent niece, and solemnly extracted the new +shoes from their brown-paper parcel. + +Miss Goold stood chatting to Captain Quinn when Hyacinth entered the +drawing-room. She moved forward to meet him, radiant and splendid, he +thought, beyond imagination. The rustle of her draperies, the faint +scent that hung around her, and the glitter of the stones on her throat, +bewildered him. + +It was not till after he had been presented to his commander that he was +able to take his eyes off her. Then, in spite of his embarrassment, he +experienced surprise and disappointment. He had formed no clear idea +of what he expected Captain Quinn to be like, but he had a vague mental +picture of a furiously-moustachioed swashbuckler, a man of immense power +and hirsute hands. Instead, there stood before him a slim, small man, +clean shaved, with shiny black hair smoothly brushed. His clothes were +so well cut and his linen so glossy that he seemed fittingly placed even +beside the magnificent Finola. His hand, when Hyacinth shook it, seemed +absurdly small, and his feet, in their neat pumps, were more like a +woman’s than a man’s. Then, when he turned to resume his conversation +with his hostess, Hyacinth was able to watch his face. He noticed +the man’s eyes. They were small and quick, like a bird’s, and shifted +rapidly, never resting long on any object. His mouth was seldom closed, +and the lips, like the eyes, moved incessantly, though very slightly. +There were strange lines about the cheeks and jaws, which somehow +suggested that the man had seen a good deal of the evil of the world, +and not altogether unwillingly. His voice was wonderfully soft and +clear, and he spoke without a trace of any provincial accent. + +During dinner Captain Quinn took the largest share in the conversation. +It appeared that he was a man of considerable knowledge of the world. He +had been a sailor in his time, and had made two voyages to Melbourne +as apprentice in a large sailing-ship. His stories were interesting and +humorously told; though they all dealt with experiences of his own, he +never allowed himself to figure as anything of a hero. He recounted, +for instance, how one night in Melbourne Docks he had run from a +half-drunken Swede, armed with a knife, and had spent hours dodging +round the deck of a ship and calling for help before he could get his +assailant arrested. His career as an officer in the mercantile navy was +cut short by a period of imprisonment in a small town in Madagascar. +He did not specify his offence, but gave a vivid account of life in the +gaol. + +‘There were twenty of us altogether,’ he said--‘nineteen niggers and +myself. There was no nonsense about discipline or work. We just sat +about all day in an open courtyard, with nothing but a big iron gate +between us and liberty. All the same, there was very little chance +of escape. There were always four black soldiers on guard, truculent +scoundrels with curly swords. A sort of missionary man got wind of my +being there, and used to come and visit me. One day he gave me a tract +called “Gideon.” I read the thing because I had absolutely nothing else +to read. In the end it turned out an extremely useful tract, for it +occurred to me that the old plan for defeating the Midianites might +work with the four black soldiers. I organized the other prisoners, and +divided them into three bands. We raked up a pretty fair substitute +for pitchers and lamps. Then one night we played off the stratagem, and +flurried the sentries to such an extent that I got clear away. I rather +fancy one or two others got off, too, but I don’t know. I got into a +rather disagreeable tramp steamer, and volunteered as stoker. It’s so +difficult to get stokers in the tropics that the captain took his risks +and kept me. I must say I was sorry afterwards that I hadn’t stayed in +the gaol.’ + +The story was properly appreciated by the audience, and Hyacinth began +to feel a liking for the Captain. + +‘Do you know,’ said Miss Goold, when their laughter had subsided, ‘I +believe I know that identical tract. I once had an evangelical aunt, a +dear old lady who went about her house with a bunch of keys in a small +basket. She used to give me religious literature. I never was reduced to +reading it, but I distinctly remember a picture of Gideon with his mouth +open waving a torch on the front page. Could it have been the same?’ + +‘It must have been,’ said the Captain. ‘Mine had that picture, too. +Gideon had nothing on but a sort of nightshirt with a belt to it, and +only one sleeve. By the way, if you are up in tracts, perhaps you know +one called “The Rock of Horeb “?’ + +Miss Goold shook her head. + +‘Ah, well,’ said the Captain, after appealing to Mary O’Dwyer and +Hyacinth, ‘it can’t be helped, but I must say I should like to meet +someone who had read “The Rock of Horeb.” I once sailed from Peru in +an exceedingly ill-found little barque loaded with guano. We had a very +dull time going through the tropics, and absolutely the only thing to +read on board was the first half of “The Rock of Horeb.” There were at +least two pages missing. I read it until I nearly knew it off by heart, +and ever since I’ve been trying to get a complete copy to see how it +ended.’ + +Some of his stories dealt with more civilized life. He delighted Miss +Goold with an account, not at all unfriendly, of the humours of +the third battalion of the Connaught Rangers. He quoted one of Mary +O’Dwyer’s poems to her, and pleased Hyacinth by his enthusiastic +admiration of the Connemara scenery. Good food, good wine, and a +companion like Captain Quinn, gladden the heart, and the little party +was very merry when Ginty deposited coffee and cigarettes and finally +departed. + +In Miss Goold’s house it was not the custom for the ladies to desert +the dinner-table by themselves. Very often the hostess was the only lady +present, and she had the greatest dislike to leaving a conversation just +when it was likely to become really interesting. Moreover, Miss Goold +smoked, not because it was a smart or emancipated thing to do, but +because she liked it, and--a curious note of femininity about her--she +objected to her drawing-room smelling of tobacco. + +When Ginty had disappeared, and the serious business of enjoying the +food was completed, the talk of the party turned on the South African +campaign and the prospects of the Irish volunteers. Captain Quinn +displayed a considerable knowledge of the operations both of the Boers +and the British Generals. For the latter he expressed what appeared to +Hyacinth to be an exaggerated contempt, but the two ladies listened +to it with evident enjoyment. He delighted Miss Goold by his extreme +eagerness to be off. + +‘I don’t see,’ he said, ‘why we shouldn’t start to-morrow.’ + +‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question,’ said Augusta Goold. ‘M. de +Villeneuve arranged to send me a wire when he was ready for our men, and +I can’t well send them sooner.’ + +‘Ah,’ said the Captain, ‘but it seems to me the Frenchman is inclined +to dawdle. Don’t you think that if we went over it might hurry him up a +bit?’ + +She agreed that this was possible, but represented the difficulty of +keeping the men suitably employed in Paris for perhaps three weeks or a +month. + +‘You see,’ she said, ‘they are all right here in Dublin, where I can +keep an eye on them. Besides, they have all got some sort of employment +here, and I don’t have to pay them. I haven’t got money enough to keep +them in Paris, and they won’t get anything from Dr. Leyds until you have +them on board the steamer.’ + +Captain Quinn seemed satisfied, but later on in the evening he returned +to the subject. + +‘I can’t help feeling that it would be better for me, at all events, to +go over to Paris at once. I shouldn’t ask to draw any pay at present. I +have enough by me to keep me going for a few weeks.’ + +‘But what about the men? Will you come back for them?’ + +‘No, I think that would be foolish and unnecessary. There is no use in +attracting attention to our movements. We can’t have a public send-off, +with cheers and that sort of thing, in any case, or march through the +streets like those ridiculous yeomen. Our fellows have got to slip +away quietly in twos and threes. We can’t tell whether we’re not being +watched this minute.’ + +There was a note of sincerity in the Captain’s voice which convinced +Hyacinth that he was genuinely frightened at the thought of having a +policeman on his track. Miss Goold, too, looked appropriately solemn at +the suggestion. As a matter of fact, the authorities in Dublin Castle +did occasionally send a detective in plain clothes to walk after her. +It is not conceivable that they suspected her of wanting to blow up +Nelson’s pillar or assassinate a judge. Probably they merely wished to +exercise the members of the force, and, in the absence of any actual +crime in the country, felt that no harm could come to anyone through the +‘shadowing’ of Miss Goold. The plan, though the authorities probably did +not consider this, had the incidental advantage of gratifying the lady +herself. She was perfectly acquainted with most of the officers who were +put on her track, and was always in good spirits when she recognised one +of them waiting for her in Westland Row Station. Captain Quinn kept a +watch on her face with his sharp shifting eyes while he spoke, and he +was quick to realize that he had hit on a way of flattering her. + +‘You are a person, Miss Goold, of whose actions the Government is bound +to take cognisance. I dare say they have their suspicions of me, and if +you and I are seen together in Dublin during the next week or two there +will certainly be inquiries; whereas, if I go over to Paris at once, +there will be no reason to watch you or anybody else.’ + +Augusta Goold hesitated. + +‘What do you say, Mr. Conneally?’ she asked. + +Hyacinth was puzzled at this extreme eagerness to be off. A suspicion +crossed his mind that the Captain meditated some kind of treachery. He +made what appeared to him to be a brilliant suggestion. + +‘Let me go with Captain Quinn. I can start to-morrow if necessary. I +should like to see something of Paris; and you know, Miss Goold, I’ve +plenty of money.’ + +He thought it likely that the Captain would object to this plan. If +he meditated any kind of crooked dealing when he got to Paris, though +Hyacinth failed to see any motive for treachery, he would not want to be +saddled with a companion. The answer he received surprised him. + +‘Delightful! I shall be glad to have a friend with me. In the intervals +of military preparation we can have a gay time--not too gay, of course, +Miss Goold. I shall keep Mr. Conneally out of serious mischief. When we +have a little spare cash we may as well enjoy ourselves. We shan’t want +to carry money about with us in the Transvaal. We mean to live at the +expense of the English out there.’ + +Augusta Goold smiled almost maternally at Hyacinth. + +‘My dear boy,’ she said, ‘what seems plenty of money to you won’t go +very far in Paris. What is it? Let me see, you said two hundred pounds, +and you want to buy your outfit out of that. Keep a little by you in +case of accident.’ + +‘Well,’ said the Captain, ‘that’s settled. And if we are really to start +to-morrow, we ought to get home to-night. Mr. Conneally may be ready +to start at a moment’s notice, but he must at least pack up his +tooth-brush. May we see you safe back to town, Miss O’Dwyer? Remember, +we shall expect a valedictory ode in the next number of the _Croppy_. +Write us something that will go to a tune, something with a swing in it, +and we’ll sing it beside the camp fires on the veldt. Miss Goold’--he +held out his hand as he spoke--‘I’m a plain fellow’--he did not look in +the least as if he thought so--‘I’ve led too rough a life to be any good +at making pretty speeches, but I’m glad I’ve seen you and talked to you. +If I’m knocked on the head out there I shall go under satisfied, for +I’ve met a woman fit to be a queen--a woman who is a queen, the queen of +the heart of Ireland.’ + +It is likely that Augusta Goold, though she was certainly not a fool, +was a little excited by the homage, for she refused to say good-bye, +declaring that she would see the boat off next morning. It was a promise +which would cost her something to keep, for the mail steamer leaves at 8 +a.m., and Miss Goold was a lady who appreciated the warmth of her bed in +the mornings, especially during the early days of March, when the wind +is likely to be in the east. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Captain Quinn made himself very agreeable to Mary O’Dwyer during the +short journey back to Dublin. At Westland Row he saw her into a cab, +which he paid for. His last words were a reminder that he would expect +to have her war-song, music and all, sent after him to Paris. Then he +turned to Hyacinth. + +‘That’s all right. We’ve done with her. It was better to pay the cab for +her, else she might have scrupled about taking one, and we should have +been obliged to go home with her in a beastly tram. Come along. I’m +staying at the Gresham. It’s always as well to go to a decent place +if you have any money. You come with me, and we’ll have a drink and a +talk.’ + +There were two priests and a Bishop in earnest conference round the +fire in the hall of the hotel when they entered. When he discovered that +their talk was of the iniquities of the National Board of Education, and +therefore likely to last beyond midnight, Captain Quinn led the way into +the smoking-room, which was unoccupied. A sufficient supply of whisky +and a syphon of soda-water were set before them. The Captain stretched +himself in a comfortable chair, and lit his pipe. + +‘A fine woman, Miss Goold,’ he said meditatively. Hyacinth murmured an +assent. + +‘A very fine woman, and apparently pretty comfortably off. I wonder why +on earth she does it.’ + +He looked at Hyacinth as if he expected some sort of explanation to be +forthcoming. + +‘Does what?’ asked Hyacinth at length. + +‘Oh, all this revolutionary business: the _Croppy_, seditious speeches, +and now this rot about helping the Boers. What does she stand to gain by +it? I don’t suppose there’s any money in the business, and a woman +like that might get all the notoriety she wants in her own proper set, +without stumping the country and talking rot.’ + +This way of looking at Augusta Goold’s patriotism was new to Hyacinth, +and he resented it. + +‘I suppose she believes in the principles she professes,’ he said. + +The Captain looked at him curiously, and then took a drink of his +whisky-and-soda. + +‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s suppose she does. After all, her motives are +nothing to us, and she’s a damned fine woman, whatever she does it for.’ + +He drank again. + +‘It would have been very pleasant, now, if she would have spent the next +few weeks with me in Paris. You won’t mind my saying that I’d rather +have had her than you, Conneally, as a companion in a little burst. +However, I saw at once that it wouldn’t do. Anyone with an eye in his +head could tell at a glance that she wasn’t that sort.’ + +He sighed. Hyacinth was not quite sure that he understood. The +suggestion was so calmly made and reasoned on that it seemed impossible +that it could be as iniquitous as it appeared. + +‘There’s no one such an utter fool about women,’ went on the Captain, +‘as your respectable married man, who never does anything wrong himself. +I’d heard of Miss Goold, as everybody has, and listened to discussions +about her character. You know just as well as I do the sort of things +they say about her.’ + +Hyacinth did know very well, and flared up in defence of his patroness. + +‘They are vile lies.’ + +‘That’s just what I’m saying. Those respectable people who tell the lies +are such fools. They think that every woman who doesn’t mew about +at afternoon parties must be a bad one. Now, anyone with a little +experience would know at once that Miss Goold--what’s this the other +one called her? Oh yes, Finola--that Finola may be a fool, but she’s not +_that_.’ + +He pulled himself together as he spoke. Evidently he plumed himself, on +his experience and the faculty for judging it had brought him. + +‘Now, I’d just as soon have asked my sister-in-law to come to Paris with +me for a fortnight as Finola. You don’t know Mrs. James Quinn, I think. +That’s a pity. She’s the most domesticated and virtuous _haus-frau_ in +the world.’ + +He paused, and then asked Hyacinth, ‘Why are you doing it?’ + +Again Hyacinth was reduced by sheer surprise to a futility. + +‘Doing what?’ + +‘Oh, going out to fight for the Boers. Now, don’t, like a good fellow, +say you’re acting on principle. It’s all well enough to give Finola +credit for that kind of thing. She is, as we agreed, a splendid woman. +But you mustn’t ask me to believe in the whole corps in the same way.’ + +Hyacinth meditated a reply. It was clearly impossible to assert that +he wanted to fight for liberty, to give his life to the cause of an +oppressed nationality. It would be utterly absurd to tell the story of +his father’s vision, and say that he looked on the South African War +as a skirmish preliminary to the Armageddon. Sitting opposite to this +cynical man of the world and listening to his talk, Hyacinth came +himself to disbelieve in principle. He felt that there must be some +baser motive at the bottom of his desire to fight, only, for the life of +him, he could not remember what it was. He could not even imagine a good +reason--good in the estimation of his companion--why anyone should do so +foolish a thing as go out to the Transvaal. The Captain was not at all +impatient. He sat smoking quietly, until there seemed no prospect of +Hyacinth answering; then he said: + +‘Well, if you don’t want to tell me, I don’t mind. Only I think you’re +foolish. You see, little accidents happen in these affairs. There are +such things as bullets, and one of them might hit you somewhere that +would matter. Then it would be my duty to send home your last words to +your sorrowing relatives, and it would be easier to do that if I knew +exactly what you had done. The death-bed repentance of the prodigal +is always most consoling to the elder brother--much more consoling, in +fact, than the prodigal’s return. Now, how the deuce am I to make up a +plausible repentance for you, if I don’t know what you’ve done?’ + +‘But I’ve not done anything,’ said Hyacinth ineffectively. + +The Captain ignored him. + +‘Come, now, it can’t be anything very bad at your age. Have you got +into a mess with a girl? Or’--he brightened up at the guess--‘are +you hopelessly enamoured of the beautiful Finola? That would be most +suitable. The bold, bad woman sends the minstrel boy to his death, +with his wild harp slung behind him. I could draw tears from the +stoniest-hearted elder brother over that.’ + +If he could have thought of a crime at the moment, Hyacinth would +probably have confessed it; but he was bewildered, and could hit on +nothing better than: + +‘I have no elder brother--in fact, no relation of any sort.’ + +‘Lucky man! Now, I have a perfect specimen of a brother--James Quinn, +Esquire, of Ballymoy. He’s a churchwarden. Think of that! If it should +be your melancholy duty to send the message home to him--in case that +bullet hits me, I mean--tell him------ Oh, there’s no false pride about +me. Fill your glass again. I don’t in the least mind your knowing that I +wouldn’t go a step to fight for Boer or Briton either if it wasn’t for a +little affair connected with some horses and a cheque. You see, the War +Office people sent down a perfect idiot to buy remounts for the cavalry +in Galway and Mayo. He was the sort of idiot that would tempt an +Archbishop to swindle him. I rather overdid it, I’m afraid, and now the +matter is likely to come out.’ + +For all his boasted powers of observation, Captain Quinn failed to +notice the disgust and alarm on Hyacinth’s face. + +‘I stuck the fool,’ he went on, ‘with every old screw in the country. I +got broken-winded mares from the ploughs. I collected a regular hospital +of spavined, knock-kneed beasts, and he took them from me without a word +at thirty pounds apiece. It would have been all right if I had gone no +further. But, hang it all! I got to the end of my tether. I declare to +you I don’t believe there was another screw left in the whole county of +Mayo, and unless I took to selling him the asses I couldn’t go on. Then +I heard of this plan of your friend Finola’s, and I determined to make +a little coup and clear. I altered a cheque. The idiot was on his way to +an out-of-the-way corner of Connemara looking for mounted infantry cobs. +I knew he wouldn’t see his bank-book for at least a week, so I chanced +it. That’s the reason why I am so uncommonly anxious to get clear at +once. If I once get off, it will be next door to impossible to get me +back again. General Joubert will hardly give me up. I’m not the least +afraid of those ridiculous policemen who walk about after Finola. But +I am very much afraid of being tapped on the shoulder for reasons +quite non-political. I can tell you I’ve been on the jump ever since +yesterday, when I cashed the cheque, and I shan’t feel easy till I’ve +left France behind me. I fancy I’m safe for the present. The idiot is +sure to try fifty ways of getting his accounts straight before he lights +on my little cheque; and when he does, I’ve covered my tracks pretty +well. My dear brother hasn’t the slightest notion what’s become of me. +I dare say he’ll stop making inquiries as soon as the police begin. Poor +old chap! He’ll feel it about the family name, and so on.’ + +He smiled at his own reflection in the mirror over the chimneypiece. He +was evidently well satisfied with the performance he had narrated. Then +at last Hyacinth found himself able to speak. Again, as when he had +defeated Dr. Spenser in the college lecture-room, his own coolness +surprised him. + +‘You’re an infernal blackguard!’ he said. + +Captain Quinn looked at him with a surprise that was perfectly genuine. +He doubted if he could have heard correctly. + +‘What did you say?’ + +‘I said,’ repeated Hyacinth, ‘you are an infernal blackguard!’ + +‘Did you really suppose that I would be going on this fool of an +expedition if I wasn’t?’ + +‘I shall tell Miss Goold the story you have just told me. I shall tell +her to-morrow morning before the boat sails.’ + +‘Very well,’ said the Captain; ‘but don’t suppose for a moment that +you’ll shock Finola. She doesn’t know this particular story about me, +but I expect she knows another every bit as bad, and I dare say she will +regard the whole thing as a justifiable spoiling of the Egyptians. By +the way ‘--there was a note of anxiety in his voice--‘I hope you won’t +find it necessary to repeat anything I’ve said about the lady herself. +_That_ might irritate her.’ + +‘Is it likely,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I would repeat that kind of talk to +any woman?’ + +‘Quite so. I admire your attitude. Such things are entirely unfit for +repetition. But seriously, now, what on earth do you expect to happen +when you tell her? I’m perfectly certain that every single volunteer +she’s got is just as great a blackguard--your word, my dear fellow--as I +am, and Finola knows it perfectly well.’ + +Hyacinth hesitated. The phrase in Miss Goold’s letter in which she had +originally described her men as blackguards recurred to his mind. He +remembered the story of Doherty. His anger began to give way to a sick +feeling of disgust. + +‘Think, now,’ said the Captain: ‘is it likely that you could enlist a +corps of Sunday-school teachers for this kind of work? I’ll give you +credit for the highest motives, though I’m blest if I understand them; +but how can you suppose that there is anyone else in the whole world +that feels the way you feel or wants to act as you are doing?’ + +‘I dare say you are right,’ said Hyacinth feebly. + +‘Of course I’m right--perfectly right.’ + +Hyacinth tried to lift his glass of whisky-and-water to his lips, but +his hand trembled, and he was obliged to put it down. Captain Quinn +watched him wipe the spilt liquid off his hand, and then settle down in +his chair with his head bowed and his eyes half shut. + +‘Sit up, man,’ he said. ‘It’s all right. You’ve done nothing to be +ashamed of, at all events. But look here, you ought not to come with us +at all. It’s no job for a man like you. You back out of it. Don’t turn up +to-morrow morning. I’ll explain to Finola if she’s there, and if not +I’ll write her a letter that will set you straight with her. I’m really +sorry for you, Conneally.’ + +Hyacinth looked up at him. + +‘I’m sorry I called you a blackguard,’ he said. ‘You’re not any worse +than everyone else in the world.’ + +‘Nonsense,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘Don’t take it like that. From your +point of view you were quite right to call me a blackguard. And, mind +you, there are plenty of people in the world who aren’t blackguards. +There’s my brother, for instance. He’s a bit of a prig--in fact, he’s +as priggish as he well can be--but he’s never done anything but run +straight. I don’t suppose he could go crooked if he tried.’ + +Hyacinth got up. + +‘Good-night,’ he said, ‘and good-bye. I shan’t go with you.’ + +‘Wait a minute,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘I think I’ve done you one good +turn to-night in stopping you going to South Africa. Now I’ll do you +another, and one at the same time to that brother of mine. I left him +in a hurry. I told you that, but I don’t think I mentioned that I was in +his employment. He runs a woollen factory down in Mayo. I owned a +share in the business once, but that went long ago, and the whole thing +belongs to James now. I was a sort of clerk and general agent. I wasn’t +really the least use, for I never did any work. James was for ever +complaining, but I’m bound to say he stuck to me. I’ll give you a letter +to him, and I dare say you may get the job that I’ve chucked. It’s not +much of a thing, but it may suit you for a while. Sit down till I write +my letter.’ + +Hyacinth obeyed. Since his anger evaporated a sort of numbness had crept +over his mind. He scarcely understood what was said to him. He had a +vague feeling of gratitude towards Captain Quinn, and at the same time +a great desire to get away and be alone. He felt that he required to +adjust his mind to the new thoughts which had been crowded into it. When +he received the letter he put it into his pocket, and rose again to go. +The Captain saw him to the door. + +‘Good-bye.’ Hyacinth heard him, but his voice seemed far off, and his +words meaningless. ‘Take my advice and run down to Ballymoy at once. +Don’t hang about Finola any more. She’s a splendid woman, but she’s not +for you. If you married her you’d be perfectly miserable. Not that I +think she’d ever marry you. Still, she might. Women do such odd things. +If by any chance she does, you’ll have to be very careful. Give her her +head, and take her easy up to the jumps. Don’t try to hustle her, and +for God’s sake don’t begin sawing at her mouth. I’d very much like to be +here to see you in the character of Mr. Augusta Goold.’ He sighed. +‘But, of course, I can’t. The British Isles will be too hot for me for +a while. However, who can tell what might happen if I win a good medal +from old Kruger, and capture a few British Generals? I might act best +man for you yet, if you’ll wait a year or two.’ + +When Hyacinth got home to his lodgings the first object that met his eye +was Grealy’s ancient rifle. He tied a label round its barrel addressed +to the owner. Then he packed his few belongings carefully and strapped +his bag. So far he was sure of himself. He had no doubt whatever that he +must leave Dublin at once. He felt that he could not endure an interview +with Augusta Goold. She might blame him or might pity him. Either would +be intolerable. She might even justify herself to him, might beat him +into submission by sheer force of her beauty and her passion, as she had +done once before. He would run no such risk. He felt that he could not +sacrifice his sense of right and wrong, could not allow himself to be +dragged into the moral chaos in which, it seemed to him now, Miss Goold +lived. He was unconscious of any Divine leading, or even of any direct +reliance on the obligations of honour. He could not himself have told +why he clung with such desperate terror to his plan of escaping from his +surroundings. Simply he could not do certain things or associate as a +friend with people who did them. To get away from Dublin was the first +necessity. For a moment it occurred to him that he might go to Dr. +Henry, tell him the whole story, and ask for advice and help. But that +was impossible. How could he confess the degradation of his ideal? +How could he resist the inevitable reminder that he had been warned +beforehand? Besides, not even now, after all that he had seen, could he +accept Dr. Henry’s point of view. He still believed in Ireland, still +hoped to serve her, still looked for the coming of his father’s captain +to lead the saints to the final victory. Miss Goold had failed him, but +he was not yet ready to enrol himself a citizen of England. + +No, he must leave Dublin. But where to go? His lamp burnt dim and +expired as he sat thinking. His fire had long ago gone out. He shivered +with cold and misery, while the faint light of the dawn stole into his +room. He heard the first twitter of the birds in the convent garden +behind his lodging. Then came the noise of the earliest traffic, the +unnaturally loud rattle of the dust-carts on their rounds. A steamer +hooted far away down the river, and an early bell rang the neighbouring +nuns to prayer. Hyacinth grew desperate. Could he go home, back to the +fishing-boats and simple people of Carrowkeel? A great desire for the +old scenes seized upon him. He fought against it with all his might. He +had rejected the offer of the home life once. Now, no doubt, it would be +closed against him. The boat that might have been his was sold long ago. +He would not go back to confess himself a fool and a failure. + +Gradually his mind worked back over the conversation in the hotel with +Captain Quinn. The recollection of the latter part of it, which had +meant nothing at the time, grew clear. He felt for the letter in his +pocket, and drew it out. After all, why should he not offer himself to +James Quinn? Ballymoy was remote enough to be a hiding-place. It was in +County Mayo, the Captain had said. He had never heard of the place, and +it seemed likely that no one else, except its inhabitants, knew of it +either. At least, there was no reason that he could see why he should +not go there. His brain refused to work any longer, either at planning +or remembering. His lips formed the word Ballymoy. He repeated it again +and again. He seemed to go on repeating it in the troubled sleep which +came to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Irish get credit, even from their enemies, for being a quick-witted, +imaginative, and artistic people, yet they display astonishingly little +taste or originality in their domestic architecture. In Connaught, where +the Celtic genius may be supposed to have the freest opportunity +for expressing itself, the towns are all exactly alike, and their +resemblance consists in the absence of any beauty which can please +the eye. An English country town, although the English bucolic is +notoriously as stupid as an ox, has certain features of its own. So has +a Swiss cottage or a French village. It is possible to represent these +upon Christmas cards or the lids of chocolate-boxes without labelling +them English, Swiss, or French. Any moderately well educated young lady +will recognise them at once, and exclaim without hesitation, ‘How truly +English!’ or ‘How sweetly Swiss!’ But no one can depict an Irish town +with any hope of having it recognised unless he idealizes boldly, +introducing a highly-intelligent pig, or a man in knee-breeches kissing +a fancifully-attired colleen. And then, after all, he might as well have +labelled it Irish at once in good plain print, and saved himself the +trouble of drawing the symbolic figures. + +To describe Ballymoy, therefore, mountains, rivers, and such like +natural eccentricities being left out of the count, is to describe fifty +other West of Ireland towns. There is a railway-station, bleak, gray, +and windswept, situated, for the benefit of local car-owners, a mile and +a half from the town, and the road which connects the two is execrable. +There is a workhouse, in Ballymoy as everywhere else in this lost land +the most prominent building. There is a convent, immense and wonderfully +white, with rows and rows of staring windows and a far-seen figure of +the Blessed Virgin, poised in a niche above the main door. There is +a Roman Catholic church, gray-walled, gray-roofed, and unspeakably +hideous, but large and, like the workhouse and the convent, obtruding +itself upon the eye. It seems as if the inhabitants of the town must all +of them be forced, and that at no distant date, either into religion +or pauperism, just as small bodies floating in a pond are sucked into +connection with one or other of the logs which lie among them. The shops +in the one tortuous street block the footpaths in front of their doors +with piles of empty packing-cases. The passenger is saluted, here by a +buffet in the face from a waterproof coat suspended outside a draper’s, +there by a hot breath of whisky-laden air. Two shops out of every +three are public-houses. These occupy a very beautiful position in the +economic life of the town. Their profits go to build the church, to +pay the priests, and to fill the coffers of the nuns. The making of +the profits fills the workhouse. A little aloof stands the Protestant +church, austere to look upon, expressing in all its lines a grim +reproach of the people’s life. Beyond it, among scanty, stooped trees, +is the rectory, gray, as everything else is, wearing, like a decayed +lady, the air of having lived through better days. + +Such, save for one feature, is Ballymoy, as the traveller sees it, as +Hyacinth Conneally saw it when he arrived there one gusty afternoon. +The one unusual feature is Mr. James Quinn’s woollen mill. It stands, +a gaunt and indeed somewhat dilapidated building, at the bottom of the +street, in the angle where the river turns sharply to flow under the +bridge. The water just above the bridge is swept into a channel and +forced to turn the wheel which works some primitive machinery within. +In the centre of the mill’s front is an archway through which carts pass +into the paved square behind. Here is the weighbridge, and here great +bundles of heavy-smelling fleeces are unloaded. Off the square is the +office where Mr. Quinn sits, pays for the wool, and enters the weight +of it in damp ledgers. Here on Saturdays two or three men and a score of +girls receive their wages. The business is a peculiar one. You may bring +your wool to Mr. Quinn in fleeces, just as you sheer it off the sheep’s +back. He will pay you for it, more or less, according to the amount +of trouble you have taken with your sheep. This is the way the younger +generation likes to treat its wool. If you are older, and are blessed +with a wife able to card and spin, you deal differently with Mr. Quinn. +For many evenings after the shearing your wife sits by the fireside +with two carding-combs in her hands, and wipes off them wonderfully soft +rolls of wool. Afterwards she fetches the great wheel from its nook, and +you watch her pulling out an endless gray thread while she steps back +and forwards across the floor. The girls watch her, too, but not, as +you do, with sleepy admiration. Their emotion is amused contempt. +Nevertheless, your kitchen wall is gradually decorated with bunches of +great gray balls. When these have accumulated sufficiently, you take +them to Mr. Quinn. A certain number of them become his property. Out of +the rest he will weave what you like--coarse yellow flannel, good for +bawneens, and, when it is dyed crimson, for petticoats; or blankets--not +fluffy like the blankets that are bought in shops, but warm to sleep +under when the winter comes; or perhaps frieze, very thick and rough, +the one fabric that will resist the winter rain. + +This portion of his business Mr. Quinn finds to be decreasing year by +year. Fewer and fewer women care to card and spin the wool. The younger +men find it more profitable to sell it at once, and to wear, instead +of the old bawneens, shirts called flannel which are brought over from +cotton-spinning Lancashire, and sold in the shops. The younger women +think that they look prettier in gowns made artfully by the local +dressmaker out of feeble materials got up to catch the eye. If now and +then, for the sake of real warmth, one of them makes a petticoat of the +old crimson flannel, it is kept so short that, save in very heavy rain, +it can be concealed. Unfortunately, while these old-fashioned profits +are vanishing, Mr. Quinn finds it very hard to increase the other branch +of his business. The fabrics which he makes are good, so good that he +finds it difficult to sell them in the teeth of competition. The +country shops are flooded with what he calls ‘shoddy.’ An army of eager +commercial travellers pushes showy goods on the shopkeepers and the +public at half his price. Even the farmers in remote districts are +beginning to acquire a taste for smartness. Some things in which he used +to do a useful trade are now scarcely worth making. There is hardly +any demand for the checked head-kerchiefs. The women prefer hats and +bonnets, decked with cheap ribbons or artificial flowers; and these +bring no trade to Mr. Quinn’s mill. Still, he manages to hold on. The +Lancashire people, though they have invented flannelette, cannot as yet +make a passable imitation of frieze, and there is a Dublin house which +buys annually all the blankets he can turn out. It is true that even +there, and for the best class of customers, prices have to be cut so as +to leave a bare margin of profit. Yet since there is a margin, Mr. Quinn +holds on, though not very hopefully. + +Hyacinth left the bulk of his luggage--a packing-case containing the +books which the auctioneer had failed to dispose of in Carrowkeel--at +the station, and walked into Ballymoy carrying his bag. He had little +difficulty in making his way to the mill, and found the owner of it in +his office. It was difficult at first to believe that James Quinn could +be any relation to Captain Albert, the traveller, horse-dealer, soldier, +and thief. This man was tall, though he stooped when he stood to receive +his visitor. His movements were slow. His fair hair lay thin across his +forehead, and was touched above the ears with gray. His blue eyes were +very gentle, and had a way of looking long and steadily at what they +saw. A glance at his face left the impression that life, perhaps by no +very gentle means, had taught him patience. + +‘This letter will introduce me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is from your +brother, Captain, or Mr. Albert, Quinn.’ + +James Quinn took the letter, and turned it over slowly. Then, without +opening it, he laid it on the table in front of him. His eyes travelled +from it to Hyacinth’s face, and rested there. It was some time before he +spoke, and then it was to correct Hyacinth upon a trivial point. + +‘My half-brother,’ he said. ‘My father married twice, and Albert is the +son of his second wife. You may have noticed that he is a great deal +younger than I am.’ + +‘He looks younger, certainly,’ said Hyacinth, for the other was waiting +for a reply. + +‘Nearly twenty years younger. Albert is only just thirty.’ + +The exact age of the Captain was uninteresting and seemed to be beside +the purpose of the visit. Hyacinth shifted his chair and fidgeted, +uncertain what to do or say next. + +‘Albert gave you this letter to me. Is he a friend of yours?’ + +‘No.’ + +James Quinn looked at him again steadily. It seemed--but this may have +been fancy--that there was a kindlier expression in his eyes after the +emphatic repudiation of friendship with Albert. At length he took up the +letter, and read it through slowly. + +‘Why did my brother give you this letter?’ + +The question was a puzzling one. Hyacinth had never thought of trying +to understand the Captain’s motives. Then the conversation in the hotel +recurred to him. + +‘He said that he wanted to do a good turn to me and to you also.’ + +‘What had you done for him?’ + +‘Nothing whatever.’ + +Apparently James Quinn was not in the least vexed at the brevity of +the answers he received, or disturbed because his cross-examination was +obviously disagreeable to Hyacinth. + +‘In this letter,’ he went on, referring to the document as he spoke, +‘he describes you as a young man who is “certainly honest, probably +religious, and possibly intelligent.” I presume you know my brother, and +if you do, you may be surprised to hear that I am quite prepared to take +his word for all this. I have very seldom known Albert to tell me lies, +and I don’t know why he should want to deceive me in this case. Still, +I am a little puzzled to account for his giving you the letter. Can you +add nothing in the way of explanation to what you have said?’ + +‘I don’t know that I can,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Will you tell me how you met my brother, and what he is doing now, or +where he is?’ + +‘I do not think I should be justified in doing so.’ + +‘Ah, well! I can understand that in certain circumstances Albert would +be very grateful to a man who would hold his tongue. He might be quite +willing to do you a good turn if you undertook to answer no questions +about him.’ + +He smiled as he spoke, a little grimly, but there was laughter lurking +in the corners of his eyes. A Puritan will sometimes smile in such a +way at the thought of a sinful situation, too solemn to be laughed +at openly, but appealing to a not entirely atrophied sense of humour. +Hyacinth felt reassured. + +‘Indeed,’ he said, ‘I made no promise of silence. It is only that--well, +I don’t think----’ + +James Quinn waited patiently for the conclusion of the sentence, but +Hyacinth never arrived at it. + +‘In this letter,’ he said at last, ‘my brother asks me to give you the +place he lately held in my business. Now, I don’t want to press you to +say anything you don’t want to, but before we go further I must ask you +this, Were you implicated in the affair yourself?’ + +‘I beg your pardon. I don’t quite understand what you mean.’ + +‘Well, I suppose that since my brother is anxious that you should hold +your tongue, he has done something that won’t bear talking about. Were +you implicated in--in whatever the trouble was?’ + +‘Certainly not,’ said Hyacinth. ‘In fact, it was on account of what you +speak of as “trouble” that I declined to have anything more to do with +your brother.’ + +‘That is probably very much to your credit, and, in the light of my +brother’s estimate of your character, I may say that I entirely believe +what you say. Am I to understand that you are an applicant for the post +in my business which Albert held, and which this letter tells me I may +consider vacant?’ + +‘That is what brought me down here,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Have you any other recommendations or testimonials as to character to +show me?’ + +‘No. But there are several people who would answer questions about me if +you wrote to them: Dr. Henry, of Trinity College, would, or Miss Augusta +Goold, or Father Moran, of Carrowkeel, in County Galway.’ + +‘You have given me the most remarkable list of references I ever came +across in my life. I don’t suppose anyone ever before was recommended +for a post by a Protestant divinity professor, a notoriously violent +political agitator, a Roman Catholic priest, and a--well, we won’t +describe my brother. How do you come to be mixed up with all these +people? Who are you?’ + +‘I am the son of Æneas Conneally, Rector of Carrowkeel, who died last +Christmas.’ + +‘Well,’ said James Quinn, ‘I suppose if all these people are prepared +to recommend you, your character must be all right. Now, tell me, do you +know what the post is you are applying for?’ + +‘No,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And I may as well say that I have had no +experience or business training whatever.’ + +‘So I should suppose from the way you have come to me. Well, my brother +was clerk and traveller for my business. He was supposed to help me to +keep accounts and to push the sale of my goods among the shopkeepers +in Connaught. As a matter of fact, he never did either the one or the +other. When he was at home he did nothing. When he was on the road +he bought and sold horses. I paid him eighty pounds a year and his +travelling expenses. I also promised him a percentage on the profits of +the sales he effected. Now, do you think this work would suit you?’ + +‘I might not be able to do it,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but I should very much +like to be allowed to try. I can understand that I shall be very little +use at first, and I am willing to work without any salary for a time, +perhaps six months, until I have learned something about your business.’ + +‘Come, now, that’s a business-like offer. I’ll give you a trial, if it +was only for the sake of your list of references. I won’t keep you six +months without paying you if you turn out to be any good at all. And I +think there must be something in you, for you’ve gone about getting this +job in the queerest way I ever heard of. Would you like any time to make +up your mind finally before accepting the post?’ + +‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I accept at once.’ + +They walked together through the mill, and looked at the machines and +the workers. The girls smiled when Mr. Quinn stopped to speak to them, +and looked with frank curiosity at Hyacinth. The three or four men who +did the heavier work stopped and chatted for a few minutes when they +came to them. Evidently there was no soreness or distrust here between +the employer and the employed. When they had gone through the rooms +where the work was going on, they climbed a staircase like a ladder, and +came to the loft where the wool was stored. Hyacinth handled it as he +was directed, and endeavoured to appreciate the difference between the +good and the inferior qualities. They passed by an unglazed window at +the back of the mill, and Mr. Quinn pointed out his own house. It stood +among trees and shrubs, now for the most part bare, but giving promise +of shady privacy in summertime. Long windows opened out on to a lawn +stretching down to the watercourse which fed the millwheel. A gravel +path skirted one side of the house leading to a bridge, and thence to +a doorway in a high wall, beyond which lay the road. As they looked +the door opened, and a woman with two little girls came through. They +crossed the bridge, and walked up to the house. + +‘That is my wife,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘and my two little girls.’ + +He stretched out between the bars of the window, and shouted to them. +All three looked back. Mrs. Quinn waved her hand, and the two children +shouted in reply. Then a light appeared in one of the windows, and +Hyacinth caught a glimpse of a trim maid-servant pulling the curtains +across it. + +‘We shall be having tea at half-past six,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘Will you +come and join us? By the way, where are you staying?’ + +Hyacinth accepted the invitation, and confessed that he had not as yet +looked for any place to lay his head. + +‘Ah! Better go to the hotel for to-night. It’s not much of a place, +but you will have to learn to put up with that sort of accommodation. +Tomorrow we’ll try and find you some decent lodgings.’ + +The hotel struck even Hyacinth as of inferior quality, though it +boasted great things in the timetable advertisements, and called itself +‘Imperial’ in large gold letters above its door. A smell of whisky and +tobacco greeted him as he entered, and a waiter with a greasy coat, in +answer to inquiries about a bed, sent him down a dark passage to seek +a lady called Miss Sweeney at the bar. Large leather cases with broad +straps and waterproof-covered baskets blocked the passage, and Hyacinth +stumbled among them for some time before he discovered Miss Sweeney +reading a periodical called _Spicy Bits_ among her whisky-bottles. +She was a young woman of would-be fashionable appearance, and acted +apparently in the double capacity of barmaid and clerk. On hearing that +Hyacinth required, not whisky, but a bedroom, she requested him to go +forward to the office, indicating a glass case at the far end of the bar +counter. Here he repeated his request to her through a small opening in +the glass, and received her assurance, given with great condescension, +that No. 42 was vacant, and, further, that there was a fire in the +commercial room. A boy whom she summoned carried Hyacinth’s bag to an +extremely dirty and ill-furnished bedroom, and afterwards conducted +him to the promised fire. Two other guests were seated at it when he +entered, who, after a long stare, made room for him. Apparently there +was no one else stopping in the hotel, and the whole mass of cumbrous +baggage which blocked the passage to the bar must belong to them. +Hyacinth realized, with a feeling of disgust which he could +not account for, that these were two members of his new +profession--fellow-travellers in the voyages of commerce. He +gathered--for they talked loudly, without regarding his presence--that +they represented two Manchester firms which were rivals in the wholesale +drapery business. Very much of what they said was unintelligible to him, +though the words were familiar. He knew that ‘lines’ could be ‘quoted,’ +but not apparently in the same sense in which they discussed these +operations, and it puzzled him to hear of muslins being ‘done at one and +seven-eighths.’ He sat for a time wondering at the waste of money and +energy involved in sending these men to remote corners of Ireland to +search for customers. Then he left them, and made his way down the muddy +street to Mr. Quinn’s house. + +The room into which he was shown was different from any he had ever +seen. It was lit by a single lamp with a dull glass globe and a turf +fire which burnt brightly. Two straight-backed, leather-covered chairs +stood one on either side of the tiled hearth. Near one stood a little +table covered with neatly-arranged books, and, rising from among them, +a reading-lamp, as yet unlit. Beyond the other was a work-table +strewed with reels and scissors, on which lay a child’s frock and some +stockings. The table was laid for tea. On it were plates piled up with +floury scones, delicate beleek saucers full of butter patted thin into +the shapes of shells, and jam in coloured glass dishes cased in silver +filigree. A large home-baked loaf of soda bread on a wooden platter +stood at one end of the table, and near it a sponge-cake. At the other +end was an array of cups and saucers with silver spoons that glittered, +a jug of cream, and one of milk. Two of the cups were larger than the +others, and had those curious bars across them which are designed to +save men from wetting their moustaches when they drink. No room and no +preparation for a meal could have offered a more striking contrast to +Augusta Goold’s dining-room, her groups of wineglasses, multiplicity of +heavy-handled knives and forks, and her candles shrouded in silk. Nor +was the dainty neatness less remote from the cracked delf and huddled +sordidness of his old home. + +Long before Hyacinth had realized an impression of the scene before him +Mrs. Quinn greeted him, and led him to the fire. Her two little girls, +who lay on the hearthrug with a picture-book between them, were bidden +to make room for him. When her husband appeared she bustled off, and in +a minute or two she and the maid came in bringing toast and tea and hot +water hissing in a silver urn. + +As the evening passed Hyacinth began to realize that he had entered into +a home of peace. He felt that these people were neither greatly anxious +to be rich nor much afraid of being poor. They seemed in no way fretted +that there were others higher in the social scale, cleverer or more +brilliant than they were. He understood that they were both of them +religious in a way quite different from any he had known. They neither +spoke of mysteries, like his father, nor were eager about disputings, +like the men who had been his fellow-students. They were living a very +simple life, of which faith and a wide charity formed a part as natural +as eating or sleeping. When the children’s bedtime came it seemed to +him a very wonderful thing that they should kneel in turns beside their +father’s knee and say their prayers aloud, when he, a stranger, was in +the room. It seemed to him less strange, because then he had been two +hours longer in the company of the Quinns, that before leaving he, +too, should kneel beside his hostess and listen while his new employer +repeated the familiar words of some of the old collects he had heard his +father read in church. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +On Sunday, the third day after his arrival in Ballymoy, Hyacinth went to +church. He could hardly have avoided doing so, even if he had wanted to, +for Mrs. Quinn invited him to share her pew. There was no real necessity +for such hospitality, for the church was never, even under the most +favourable circumstances, more than half full. The four front seats were +reserved for a Mr. Stack, on whose property the town of Ballymoy stood. +But this gentleman preferred to live in Surrey, and even when he came +over to Ireland for the shooting rarely honoured the church with his +presence. A stone tablet, bearing the name of this magnate’s father, a +Cork pawnbroker, who had purchased the property for a small sum under +the Encumbered Estates Court Act, adorned the wall beside the pulpit. +The management of the property was in the hands of a Dublin firm, so +the parish was deprived of the privilege of a resident land agent. The +doctor, recently appointed to the district, was a Roman Catholic of +plebeian antecedents, which reduced the resident gentry of Ballymoy +to the Quinns, a bank manager, and the Rector, Canon Beecher. A few +farmers, Mr. Stack’s gamekeeper, and the landlady of the Imperial Hotel, +made up the rest of the congregation. + +The service was not of a very attractive or inspiriting kind. Canon +Beecher--his title was a purely honorary one, not even involving the +duty of preaching in the unpretending building which, in virtue of +some forgotten history, was dignified with the name of Killinacoff +Cathedral--read slowly with somewhat ponderous emphasis. His thirty +years in Holy Orders had slightly hardened an originally luscious Dublin +brogue, but there remained a certain gentle aspiration of the _d’s_ and +_t’s_, and a tendency to omit the labial consonants altogether. He read +an immense number of prayers, gathering, as it seemed to Hyacinth, the +longest ones from the four corners of the Prayer-Book. At intervals he +allowed himself to be interrupted with a hymn, but resumed afterwards +the steady flow of supplication. The eldest Miss Beecher--the Canon had +altogether two daughters and three sons--played a harmonium. The other +girl and the three boys, with the assistance of an uncertain bass from +Mr. Quinn, gave utterance to the congregation’s praise. Hyacinth tried +to join in the first hymn, which happened to be familiar to him, but +quavered into silence towards the end of the second verse, discovering +that the eyes of Mrs. Beecher from her pew, of the Canon from the +reading-desk, of the vocal Miss Beecher and her brothers, were fixed +upon him. The sermon proved to be long and uninteresting. It was about +Melchizedek, and was so far appropriate to the Priest and King that it +had no recognisable beginning and need not apparently have ever had an +end. Perhaps no one, unless he were specially trained for the purpose, +could have followed right through the quiet meanderings of the Canon’s +thought. This kind of sermon, however, has the one advantage that +the listener can take it up and drop it again at any point without +inconvenience, and Hyacinth was able to give his attention to some +sections of it. There was no attempt at eloquence or any kind of +learning displayed, but he understood, as he listened, where the Quinns +got their religion, or at least how their religion was kept alive. +Certain very simple things were reiterated with a quiet earnestness +which left no doubt that the preacher believed exactly what he said, and +lived by the light of his faith. + +One evening shortly afterwards Canon Beecher called upon Hyacinth. The +conversation during the visit resolved itself into a kind of catechism, +which, curiously enough, was quite inoffensive. The Canon learnt by +degrees something of Hyacinth’s past life, and his career in Trinity +College. He shook his head gravely over the friendship with Augusta +Goold, whom he evidently regarded as almost beyond the reach of the +grace of God. Hyacinth was forced to admit, with an increasing sense of +shame, that he had never signed a temperance pledge, did not read the +organ of the Church Missionary Society, was not a member of a Young +Men’s Christian Association, or even of a Gleaners’ Union. He felt, as +he made each confession sorrowfully, that he was losing all hope of the +Canon’s friendship, and was most agreeably surprised when the interview +closed with a warm invitation to a mid-day dinner at the Rectory on the +following Sunday. Mrs. Quinn, who took a sort of elder sister’s interest +in his goings out and comings in, was delighted when she heard that he +was going to the Rectory, and assured him that he would like both Mrs. +Beecher and the girls. She confided afterwards to her husband that the +influence of a Christian home was likely to be most beneficial to the +‘poor boy.’ + +The Rectory displayed none of the signs of easy comfort which had +charmed Hyacinth in the Quinns’ house. The floor of the square hall was +covered with a cheap, well-worn oilcloth. Its walls were damp-stained, +and the only furniture consisted of a wooden chair and a somewhat +rickety table. In the middle of the wall hung a large olive-green card +with silver lettering. ‘Christ is the unseen Guest in this house,’ +Hyacinth read, ‘the Sharer in every pleasure, the Listener to every +conversation.’ A fortnight before, he would have turned with disgust +from such an advertisement, but now, since he had known the Quinns +and listened to the Canon’s wandering sermons, he looked at it with +different eyes. He felt that the words might actually express a fact, +and that a family might live together as if they believed them to be +true. + +‘Yes,’ said the Canon, who had come in with him, and saw him gaze at it, +‘these motto-cards are very nice. I bought several of them last time I +was in Dublin, and I think I have a spare one left which I can give +you if you like. It has silver letters like that one, but printed on a +crimson ground.’ + +Evidently the design and the colouring were what struck him as +noticeable. The motto itself was a commonplace of Christian living, the +expression of a basal fact, quite naturally hung where it would catch +the eye of chance visitors. + +In the drawing-room Mrs. Beecher and her two daughters, still in their +hats and gloves, stood round a turf fire. They made a place at once for +Hyacinth, and one of the girls drew forward a rickety basket-work chair, +covered with faded cretonne. He was formally introduced to them. Miss +Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher had both, the latter very recently, +reached the dignity of young womanhood, and wore long dresses. The three +boys, who were younger, were made known afterwards. + +When they went into the dining-room the Canon selected the soundest of +a miscellaneous collection of chairs for Hyacinth, and seated him beside +Mrs. Beecher. Then the elder girl--Miss Beecher’s name, he learnt, was +Marion--entered in a long apron carrying a boiled leg of mutton followed +by her sister with dishes of potatoes and mashed parsnips. + +‘You see,’ said Mrs. Beecher, and there was no note of apology in her +voice as she made the explanation, ‘my girls are accustomed to do a good +deal of the house-work. We have only one servant, and she is not very +presentable when she has just cooked the dinner.’ + +Hyacinth glanced at Marion Beecher, who smiled at him with frank +friendliness, as she took her seat beside her father. He saw suddenly +that the girl was beautiful. He had not noticed this in church. There he +had no opportunity of observing the subtle grace with which she +moved, and the half-light left unrevealed the lustrous purity of her +complexion, the radiant red and white which only the warm damp of the +western seaboard can give or preserve. Her eyes he had seen even in the +church, but now first he realized what unfathomable gentleness and what +a wonder of frank innocence were in them. The Canon looked round the +table at his children, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eye when +he turned to Hyacinth and quoted: + +‘“Your sons shall grow up as young plants, and your daughters shall be +as the polished corners of the temple.”’ + +Perhaps nine-tenths of civilized mankind would regard five children as +five misfortunes under any circumstances, as quite overwhelming when +they have been showered on a man with a very small income, who is +obliged to live in a remote corner of Ireland. Apparently the Canon +did not look upon himself as an afflicted man at all. There was +an unmistakable sincerity about the way in which he completed his +quotation: + +‘“Lo! thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.”’ + +It dawned on Hyacinth that quite possibly the Canon’s view of the +situation might be the right one. It was certainly wonderfully pleasant +to see the girls move through the room, and it seemed to him that they +actually realized the almost forgotten ideal of serviceable womanhood. +The talk at dinner turned first on the ailments of an old woman who was +accustomed to clean the church, but was now suspected of being past +her work; then, by an abrupt transition, on the new hat which the +bank-manager’s wife had brought home from Dublin; and, finally, the +connection of thought being again far from obvious, on the hymns which +had been sung that morning. It was at this point that Hyacinth was +included in the conversation. Marion Beecher announced that one of the +hymns was a special favourite of hers, because she remembered her mother +singing the younger children to sleep with it when they were babies. She +caught Hyacinth looking at her while she spoke, and said to him: + +‘Do you sing, Mr. Conneally?’ + +‘I do a little.’ + +‘Oh, then you must come and help us in the choir.’ ‘Choir’ seemed a +grandiose name for the four Beechers and Mr. Quinn, but Marion, who had +little experience of anything better, had no misgivings. ‘I hope you +sing tenor. I always long to have a tenor in my choir. Why, we might +have one of Barnby’s anthems at Easter, and we haven’t been able to sing +one since Mr. Nash left the bank.’ + +Hyacinth had never sung a part in his life, and could not read music, +but he grew bold, and, professing to have an excellent ear, said he +was willing to learn. The prospect of a long series of choir practices +conducted by Marion Beecher seemed to him just then an extremely +pleasant one. + +After dinner, while the two girls cleared away the plates and dishes, +Canon Beecher invited Hyacinth to smoke. + +‘I never learnt the habit myself,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t so much the +fashion in my young days as it is now, but I have no objection whatever +to the smell.’ + +Hyacinth lit a cigarette apologetically. It seemed to him almost a +wicked thing to do, but his host evidently wished him to be comfortable. +Their talk after the girls had left the room turned on politics. +Hyacinth’s confession of his friendship with Augusta Goold had impressed +the Canon, and he delivered himself of a very kindly little lecture on +the duty of loyalty and the sinfulness of contention with the powers +that be. His way of putting the matter neither irritated Hyacinth, like +the flamboyant Imperialism of the Trinity students, nor drove him into +self-assertion, like Dr. Henry’s contemptuous reasonableness. Still, he +felt bound to make some sort of defence of the opinions which were still +his own. + +‘Surely,’ he said, ‘there must be some limit to the duty of loyalty. If +a Government has no constitutional right to rule, is a man bound to be +loyal to it?’ + +‘I think,’ said the Canon, ‘that the question is decided for us. Is it +not, Mr. Conneally? “Render unto Caesar”--you remember the verse. Even if +the Government were as unconstitutional as you appear to think, it would +not be more so than the Roman Government of Judaea when these words were +spoken.’ + +Hyacinth pondered this answer. It opened up to him an entirely new way +of looking at the subject, and he could see that it might be necessary +for a Christian to acquiesce without an attempt at resistance in any +Government which happened to exist. + +He remembered other verses in the New Testament which could be quoted +even more conclusively in favour of this passive obedience. Yet he felt +that there must be a fallacy lurking somewhere. It was, on the face of +it, an obvious absurdity to think that a man, because he happened to +be a Christian, was therefore bound to submit to any form of tyranny or +oppression. + +‘Suppose,’ he said--‘I only say suppose--that a Government did immoral +things, that it robbed or allowed evil-disposed people to rob, would it +still be right to be loyal?’ + +‘I think so,’ said the Canon quietly. + +Hyacinth looked at him in astonishment. + +‘Do you mean to say that you yourself would be loyal under such +circumstances?’ + +‘I prefer not to discuss the question in that personal way, but the +Church to which you and I belong is loyal still, although the Government +has robbed us of our property and our position, and although it is now +allowing our people to be robbed still further.’ + +‘You mean by the Disestablishment and the Land Acts?’ + +‘Yes. I think it is our great glory that our loyalty is imperishable, +that it survives even such treatment as we have received and are +receiving.’ + +‘That is very beautiful,’ said Hyacinth slowly. ‘I see that there is a +great nobility in such loyalty, although I do not even wish to share it +myself. You see, I am an Irishman, and I want to see my country great +and free.’ + +‘I suppose,’ said the Canon, ‘that it is very natural that we should +love the spot on earth in which we live. I think that I love Ireland +too. But we must remember that our citizenship is in heaven, and it +seems to me that any departure from the laws of the King of that country +dishonours us, and even dishonours the earthly country which we call our +own.’ + +Hyacinth said nothing. There flashed across him a recollection of +Augusta Goold’s hope that some final insult would one day goad the +Irish Protestants into disloyalty. Clearly, if Canon Beecher was to be +regarded as a type, she had no conception of the religious spirit of the +Church of Ireland. But was there anyone else like this clergyman? He did +not know, but he guessed that his friends the Quinns would think of the +matter in somewhat the same way. It seemed to him quite possible that in +scattered and remote parishes this strangely unreasonable conception of +Christianity might survive. After a pause the Canon went on: + +‘You must not think that I do not love Ireland too. I look forward to +seeing her free some day, but with the freedom of the Gospel. It will +not be in my time, I know, but surely it will come to pass. Our people +have still the simple faith of the early ages, and they have many very +beautiful virtues. They only want the dawn of the Dayspring from on +high to shine on them, and then Ireland will be once more the Island of +Saints--_insula sanctorum_.’ He dwelt tenderly on the two words. ‘I do +not think it will matter much then what earthly Government bears rule +over us. But come, I see that you have finished your smoke, and I must +go to my study to think over my sermon.’ + +When Hyacinth entered the drawing-room the girls surrounded him, asking +him for answers to a printed list of questions. It appeared that the +committee of a bazaar for some charity in which it was right to be +interested had issued a sort of examination-paper, and promised a prize +to the best answerer. The questions were all of one kind: ‘What is the +Modern Athens--the Eternal City--the City of the Tribes? Who was the +Wizard of the North--the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith? The earlier +names on the list presented little difficulty to Hyacinth. Marion +took down his answers, whilst Elsie murmured a pleasant chorus of +astonishment at his cleverness. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. ‘Who +was the Martyr of Melanesia?’ + +‘I have never heard of him,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Never heard of the Martyr of Melanesia!’ said Elsie. ‘Why, we knew that +at once.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Marion, ‘there was an article on him in last month’s +_Gleaner_. Surely you read the _Gleaner_, Mr. Conneally?’ + +Hyacinth felt Marion’s eyes fixed on him with something of a reproach +in them. He wrestled with a vague recollection of having somewhere +heard the name of the periodical. For a moment he thought of risking +cross-questioning, and saying that he had only missed the last number. +Then he suddenly remembered the card with silver lettering which +hung above his coat in the hall, and told the truth with even a quite +unnecessary aggravation. + +‘No, I never remember seeing a copy of it in my life. I don’t even know +what it is about.’ + +‘Oh!’ said the girls, round-eyed with horror. ‘Just think! And we all +have collecting-boxes.’ + +‘It is a missionary periodical,’ said Marion. ‘It has news in it +from every corner of the mission-field, and every month a list of the +stations that specially need our prayers.’ + +Hyacinth left the Rectory that night with three well-read numbers of the +_Gleaner_ in his pocket. + +Afterwards he had many talks with Canon Beecher and the Quinns about +the work of the missionary societies. He learnt, to his surprise, that +really immense sums of money were subscribed every year by members of +the Church of Ireland for the conversion of the heathen in very remote +parts of the world. It could not be denied that these contributions +represented genuine self-denial. Young men went without a sufficiency +of tobacco, and refrained from buying sorely-needed new tennis-racquets. +Ladies, with the smallest means at their command, reared marketable +chickens, and sold their own marmalade and cakes. In such ways, and not +from the superfluity of the rich, many thousands of pounds were gathered +annually. It was still more wonderful to him to discover that large +numbers of young men and women, and these the most able and energetic, +devoted themselves to this foreign service, and that their brothers and +sisters at home were banded together in unions to watch their doings +and to pray for them. He found himself entirely untouched by this +enthusiasm, in spite of the beautiful expression it found in the lives +of his new friends. + +But it astonished him greatly that there should be this potent energy +in the Irish Church. The utter helplessness of its Bishops and clergy in +Irish affairs, the total indifference of its people to every effort at +national regeneration, had led him to believe that the Church itself was +moribund. Now he discovered that there was in it an amazing vitality, +a capacity of giving birth to enthusiastic souls. The knowledge brought +with it first of all a feeling of intense irritation. It seemed to him +that all religions were in league against Ireland. The Roman Church +seized the scanty savings of one section of the people, and squandered +them in buying German glass and Italian marble. Were the Protestants +any better, when they spent £20,000 a year on Chinamen and negroes? The +Roman Catholics took the best of their boys and girls to make priests +and nuns of them. The Protestants were doing the same thing when they +shipped off their young men and young women to spend their strength +among savages. Both were robbing Ireland of what Ireland needed +most--money and vitality. He would not say, even to himself, that all +this religious enthusiasm was so much ardour wasted. No doubt the Roman +priest did good work in Chicago, as the Protestant missionary did in +Uganda; only it seemed to him that of all lands Ireland needed most the +service and the prayers of those of her children who had the capacity of +self-forgetfulness. Afterwards, when he thought more deeply, he found a +great hope in the very existence of all this altruistic enthusiasm. He +had a vision of all that might be done for Ireland if only the splendid +energy of her own children could be used in her service. He tried more +than once to explain his point of view. Mr. Quinn met him with blank +disbelief in any possible future for Ireland. + +‘The country is doomed,’ he said. ‘The people are lazy, thriftless, and +priest-ridden. The best of them are flying to America, and those that +remain are dying away, drifting into lunatic asylums, hospitals, and +workhouses. There is a curse upon us. In another twenty years there +will be no Irish people--at least, none in Ireland. Then the English and +Scotch will come and make something of the country.’ + +From Canon Beecher he met with scarcely more sympathy or understanding. + +‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘no doubt we ought to make more efforts than we do +to convert our fellow-countrymen. But it is very difficult to see how we +are to go to work. There is one society which exists for this purpose. +Its friends are full of the very kind of enthusiasm which you describe. +I could point you out plenty of its agents whose whole souls are +in their work, but you know as well as I do how completely they are +failing.’ + +‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I do not in the least mean that we should start +more missions to Roman Catholics. It does not seem to me to matter much +what kind of religion a man professes, and I should be most unwilling to +uproot anyone’s belief. What we ought to do is throw our whole force and +energy into the work of regenerating Ireland. It is possible for us to +do this, and we ought to try.’ + +‘Well, well,’ said the Canon, ‘I must not let you make me argue with +you, Conneally; but I hope you won’t preach these doctrines of yours to +my daughters. I think it is better for them to drop their pennies into +missionary collecting-boxes, and leave the tangled problems of Irish +politics to those better able to understand them than we are.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +There are certain professions, in themselves honest, useful, and even +estimable, for which society has agreed to entertain a feeling of +contempt. It is, for instance, very difficult to think of a curate +as anything except a butt for satirists, or to be respectful to the +profession of tailoring, although many a man for private pecuniary +reasons is meek before the particular individual who makes his clothes. +Yet the novelist and the playwright, who hold the mirror up to modern +humanity, are occasionally kind even to curates and tailors. There is a +youthful athlete in Holy Orders who thrashes, to our immense admiration, +the village bully, bewildering his victim and his admirers with his +mastery of what is described a little vaguely as the ‘old Oxford +science.’ Once, at least, a glamour of romance has been shed over the +son of a tailor, and it becomes imaginable that even the chalker of +unfinished coats may in the future be posed as heroic. There is still, +however, a profession which no eccentric novelist has ever ventured to +represent as other than entirely contemptible. The commercial traveller +is beneath satire, and outside the region of sympathy. If he appears at +all in fiction or on the stage, he is irredeemably vulgar. He is +never heroic, never even a villain, rarely comic, always, poor man, +objectionable. This is a peculiar thing in the literature of a people +like the English, who are not ashamed to glory in their commercial +success, and are always ready to cheer a politician who professes to +have the interests of trade at heart. Amid the current eulogies of +the working man and the apotheosis of the beings called ‘Captains +of Industry,’ the bagman surely ought to find at least an apologist. +Without him it seems likely that many articles would fail to find a +place in the windows of the provincial shopkeepers. Without him large +sections of the public would probably remain ignorant for years of new +brands of cigarettes, and dyspeptic people might never come across the +foods which Americans prepare for their use. + +Also the individual bagman is often not without his charm. He knows, if +not courts and princes, at least hotels and railway companies. He is on +terms of easy familiarity with every ‘boots’ in several counties. He can +calculate to a nicety how long a train is likely to be delayed by a fair +‘somewhere along the line.’ He is also full of information about local +politics. In Connaught, for instance, an experienced member of the +profession will gauge for you the exact strength of the existing League +in any district. He knows what publicans may be regarded as ‘priest’s +men,’ and who have leanings towards independence. His knowledge is +frequently minute, and he can prophesy the result of a District Council +election by reckoning up the number of leading men who read the _United +Irishman_, and weighing them against those who delight in the pages of +the _Leader_. The men who can do these things are themselves local. They +reside in their district, and, as a rule, push the sales and collect the +debts of local brewers and flour-merchants. The representatives of the +larger English firms only make their rounds twice or three times a year, +and are less interesting. They pay the penalty of being cosmopolitan, +and tend to become superficial in their judgment of men and things. + +Hyacinth, like most members of the public, was ignorant of the greatness +and interest of his new profession. He entered upon it with some +misgiving, and viewed his trunk of sample blankets and shawls with +disgust. Even a new overcoat, though warm and weatherproof, afforded +him little joy, being itself a sample of Mr. Quinn’s frieze. One thought +alone cheered him, and even generated a little enthusiasm for his work. +It occurred to him that in selling the produce of the Ballymoy Mill +he was advancing the industrial revival of Ireland. He knew that +other people, quite heroic figures, were working for the same end. A +Government Board found joyous scope for the energies of its officials in +giving advice to people who wanted to cure fish or make lace. It earned +the blessing which is to rest upon those who are reviled and evil spoken +of, for no one, except literary people, who write for English magazines, +ever had a good word for it. There were also those--their activity +took the form of letters to the newspapers--who desired to utilize the +artistic capacity of the Celt, and to enrich the world with beautiful +fabrics and carpentry. They, too, were workers in the cause of the +revival. Then there were great ladies, the very cream of the Anglo-Irish +aristocracy, who petted tweeds and stockings, and offered magnificent +prizes to industrious cottagers. They earned quite large sums of +money for their protégés by holding sales in places like Belfast and +Manchester, where titles can be judiciously cheapened to a wealthy +bourgeoisie, and the wives of ship-builders and cotton-spinners will +spend cheerfully in return for the privilege of shaking hands with +a Countess. A crowd of minor enthusiasts fostered such industries as +sprigging, and there was one man who believed that the future prosperity +of Ireland might be secured by teaching people to make dolls. It was +altogether a noble army, and even a commercial traveller might hold +his head high in the world if he counted himself one of its soldiers. +Hitherto results have not been at all commensurate with the amount of +printer’s ink expended in magazine articles and advertisements. Yet +something has been accomplished. Nunneries here and there have been +induced to accept presents of knitting-machines, and people have +begun to regard as somehow sacred the words ‘technical education.’ +The National Board of Education has also spent a large sum of money in +reviving among its teachers the almost forgotten art of making paper +boats. + +Hyacinth very soon discovered that his patriotic view of this work did +not commend itself to his brother travellers. He found that they had no +feeling but one of contempt for people whom they regarded as meddling +amateurs. Occasionally, when some convent, under a bustling Mother +Superior, advanced from the region of half-charitable sales at +exhibitions into the competition of the open market, contempt became +dislike, and wishes were expressed in quite unsuitable language that the +good ladies would mind their own proper business. Until Hyacinth learnt +to conceal his hopes of Ireland’s future as a manufacturing country he +was regarded with suspicion. No one, of course, objected to his making +what use he could of patriotism as an advertisement, but he was given to +understand that, like other advertisements, it could not be quoted +among the initiated without a serious breach of good manners. Even as an +advertisement it was not rated highly. + +There was an elderly gentleman, stout and somewhat bibulous, who +superintended the consumption of certain brands of American cigarettes +in the province of Connaught. Hyacinth met him in the exceedingly +dirty Railway Hotel at Knock. Since there were no other guests, and the +evening was wet, the two were thrown upon each other’s society in the +commercial-room. + +‘I don’t think,’ said Mr. Hollywell, in reply to a remark of Hyacinth’s, +‘that there’s the least use trying to drag patriotic sentiment into +business. Of course, since you represent an Irish house--woollen goods, +I think you said--you’re quite right to run the fact for all it’s worth. +I don’t in the least blame you. Only I don’t think you’ll find it pays.’ + +He sipped his whisky-and-water--it was still early, and he had only +arrived at his third glass--and then proceeded to give his personal +experience. + +‘Now, I work for an American firm. If there was any force in the +patriotic idea I shouldn’t sell a single cigarette. My people are in +the big tobacco combine. You must have read the sort of things the +newspapers wrote about us when we started. From any point of view, +British Imperial or Irish National, we should have been boycotted long +ago if patriotism had anything to do with trade. But look at the facts. +Our chief rivals in this district are two Irish firms. They advertise +in Gaelic, which is a mistake to start with, because nobody can read it. +They get the newspaper people to write articles recommending a “great +home industry” to public support. They get local branches of all the +different leagues to pass resolutions pledging their members to smoke +only Irish tobacco. But until quite lately they simply didn’t have a +look in.’ + +‘Why?’ asked Hyacinth. ‘Were your things cheaper or better?’ + +‘No,’ said the other, ‘I don’t think they were either. You see, prices +are bound to come out pretty even in the long run, and I should say +that, if anything, they sold a slightly better article. It’s hard to +say exactly why we beat them. When competition is really keen a lot of +little things that you would hardly notice make all the difference. +For one thing, I get a free hand in the matter of subscribing to local +bazaars and race-meetings. I’ve often taken as much as a pound’s worth +of tickets for a five-pound note that some priest was raffling in aid of +a new chapel. It’s wonderful the orders you can get from shopkeepers in +that kind of way. Then, we get our things up better. Look at that.’ + +He handed Hyacinth a highly-glazed packet with a picture of a handsome +brown dog on it. + +‘Keep it,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I give away twenty or thirty of +those packets every week. Now look inside. What have you? Oh, H.M.S. +_Majestic_. That’s one of a series of photos of “Britain’s first line +of defence.” Lots of people go on buying those cigarettes just to get +a complete collection of the photos. We supply an album to keep them in +for one and sixpence. There’s another of our makes which has pictures +of actresses and pretty women. They are extraordinarily popular. They’re +perfectly all right, of course, from the moral point of view, but one in +every ten is in tights or sitting with her legs very much crossed, just +to keep up the expectation. It’s very queer the people who go for those +photos. You’d expect it to be young men, but it isn’t.’ + +The subject was not particularly interesting to Hyacinth, but since his +companion was evidently anxious to go on talking, he asked the expected +question. + +‘Young women,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I found it out quite by accident. I +got a lot of complaints from one particular town that our cigarettes had +no photos with them. I discovered after a while that a girl in one +of the principal shops had hit on a dodge for getting out the photos +without apparently injuring the packets. The funny thing was that +she never touched the ironclads or the “Types of the soldiers of all +nations,” which you might have thought would interest her, but she +collared every single actress, and had duplicates of most of them. And +she wasn’t an exception. Most girls goad their young men to buy these +cigarettes and make collections of the photos. Queer, isn’t it? I can’t +imagine why they do it.’ + +‘You said just now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that latterly you hadn’t done quite +so well. Did you run out of actresses and battleships?’ + +‘No; but one of the Irish firms took to offering prizes and enclosing +coupons. You collected twenty coupons, and you got a silver-backed +looking-glass--girls again, you see--or two thousand coupons, and you +got a new bicycle. It’s an old dodge, of course, but somehow it always +seems to pay. However, all this doesn’t matter to you. All I wanted was +to show you that there is no use relying on patriotism. The thing to go +in for in any business is attractive novelties, cheap lines, and, in the +country shops, long credit.’ + +It was not very long before Hyacinth began to realize the soundness of +Mr. Hollywell’s contempt for patriotism. In the town of Clogher he +found the walls placarded with the advertisements of an ultra-patriotic +draper. ‘Féach Annseo,’ he read, ‘The Irish House. Support Home +Manufactures.’ Another placard was even more vehement in its appeal. +‘Why curse England,’ it asked, ‘and support her manufacturers?’ Try +O’Reilly, the one-price man.’ The sentiments were so admirable that +Hyacinth followed the advice and tried O’Reilly. + +The shop was crowded when he entered, for it was market day in Clogher. +The Irish country-people, whose manners otherwise are the best in +the world, have one really objectionable habit. In the street or in a +crowded building they push their way to the spot they want to reach, +without the smallest regard for the feelings of anyone who happens to +be in the way. Sturdy country-women, carrying baskets which doubled the +passage room they required, hustled Hyacinth into a corner, and for a +time defeated his efforts to emerge. Getting his case of samples safely +between his legs, he amused himself watching the patriot shopkeeper and +his assistants conducting their business. It was perfectly obvious that +in one respect the announcements of the attractive placard departed +from the truth: O’Reilly was not a ‘one-price man,’ He charged for every +article what he thought his customers were likely to pay. The result was +that every sale involved prolonged bargaining and heated argument. In +most cases no harm was done. The country-women were keenly alive to the +value of their money, and evidently enjoyed the process of beating +down the price by halfpennies until the real value of the article was +reached. Then Mr. O’Reilly and his assistants were accustomed to close +the haggle with a beautiful formula: + +‘To _you_,’ they said, with confidential smiles and flattering emphasis +on the pronoun--‘to _you_ the price will be one and a penny; but, +really, there will be no profit on the sale.’ + +Occasionally with timid and inexperienced customers O’Reilly’s method +proved its value. Hyacinth saw him sell a dress-length of serge to a +young woman with a baby in her arms for a penny a yard more than he +had charged a moment before for the same material. Another thing which +struck him as he watched was the small amount of actual cash which was +paid across the counter. Most of the women, even those who seemed quite +poor, had accounts in the shop, and did not shrink from increasing +them. Once or twice a stranger presented some sort of a letter of +introduction, and was at once accommodated with apparently unlimited +credit. + +At length there was a lull in the business, and Hyacinth succeeded in +spreading his goods on a vacant counter, and attracting the attention of +Mr. O’Reilly. He began with shawls. + +‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will give me a good order for these +shawls.’ + +Mr. O’Reilly fingered them knowingly. + +‘Price?’ he said. + +Hyacinth mentioned a sum which left a fair margin of profit for Mr. +Quinn. O’Reilly shook his head and laughed. + +‘Can’t do it.’ + +Hyacinth reduced his price at once as far as possible. + +‘No use,’ said Mr. O’Reilly. + +Compared with the suave oratory to which he treated his customers, this +extreme economy of words was striking. + +‘See here,’ he said, producing a bundle of shawls from a shelf beside +him. ‘I get these for twenty-five shillings a dozen less from Thompson +and Taylor of Manchester.’ + +Hyacinth looked at them curiously. Each bore a prominent label setting +forth a name for the garment in large letters surrounded with wreaths +of shamrocks. ‘The Colleen Bawn,’ he read, ‘Erin’s Own,’ ‘The Kathleen +Mavourneen,’ ‘The Cruiskeen Lawn.’ The appropriateness of this last +title was not obvious to the mere Irishman, but the colour of the +garment was green, so perhaps there was a connection of thought in the +maker’s mind between that and ‘Lawn.’ ‘Cruiskeen’ he may have taken for +the name of a place. + +‘Are these,’ asked Hyacinth, ‘what you advertise as Irish goods?’ + +Mr. O’Reilly cleared his throat twice before he replied. + +‘They are got up specially for the Irish market.’ In the interests of +his employer Hyacinth kept his temper, but the effort was a severe one. + +‘These,’ he said, ‘are half cotton. Mine are pure wool. They are really +far better value even if they were double the price.’ + +Mr. O’Reilly shrugged his shoulders. + +‘I don’t say they’re not, but I should not sell one of yours for every +dozen of the others.’ + +‘Try,’ said Hyacinth; ‘give them a fair chance. Tell the people that +they will last twice as long. Tell them that they are made in Ireland.’ + +‘That would not be the slightest use. They would simply laugh in my +face. My customers don’t care a pin where the goods are made. I have +never in my life been asked for Irish manufacture.’ + +‘Then, why on earth do you stick up those advertisements?’ said +Hyacinth, pointing to the ‘Féach Annseo’ which appeared on a hoarding +across the street. + +Mr. O’Reilly was perfectly frank and unashamed. + +‘The other drapery house in the town is owned by a Scotchman, and of +course it pays more or less to keep on saying that I am Irish. Besides, +I mean to stand for the Urban Council in March, and those sort of ads. +are useful at an election, even if they are no good for business.’ + +‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said Hyacinth, shirking a discussion on +the morality of advertising: ‘I’ll let you have a dozen shawls at cost +price, and take back what you can’t sell, if you give me your word to do +your best for them.’ + +Similar discussions followed the display of serges and blankets. It +appeared that nice-looking goods could be sent over from England at +lower prices. It was vain for Hyacinth to press the fact that his things +were better. Mr. O’Reilly admitted as much. + +‘But what am I to do? The people don’t want what is good. They want a +cheap article which looks well, and they don’t care a pin whether the +thing is made in England, Ireland, or America. Take my advice,’ he added +as Hyacinth left the shop: ‘get your boss to do inferior lines--cheap, +cheap and showy.’ + +So far Mr. Hollywell’s opinions were entirely justified. The appeal of +the patriotic press to the public and the shopkeepers on behalf of the +industrial revival of Ireland had certainly not affected the town of +Clogher. Hyacinth was bitterly disappointed; but hope, when it is born +of enthusiasm, dies hard, and he was greatly interested in a speech +which he read one day in the ‘Mayo Telegraph’. It had been made at a +meeting of the League by an Ardnaree shopkeeper called Dowling. A trade +rival--the fact of the rivalry was not emphasized--had advertised in +a Scotch paper for a milliner. Dowling was exceedingly indignant. He +quoted emigration statistics showing the number of girls who left Mayo +every year for the United States. He pointed out that all of them might +be employed at home, as milliners or otherwise, if only the public would +boycott shops which sold English goods or employed Scotch milliners. +He more than suspected that the obnoxious advertisement was part of an +organized attempt to effect a new plantation of Connaught--‘worse than +Cromwell’s was.’ The fact that Connaught was the only part of Ireland +which Cromwell did not propose to plant escaped the notice of both +Mr. Dowling and his audience. The speech concluded with a passionate +peroration and a verse, no doubt declaimed soundingly, of ‘The West’s +Awake.’ + +Hyacinth made an expedition to Ardnaree, and called hopefully on the +orator. His reception was depressing in the extreme. The shop, which was +large and imposing, was stocked with goods which were obviously English, +and Mr. Dowling curtly refused even to look at the samples of Mr. +Quinn’s manufactures. Hyacinth quoted his own speech to the man, and was +amazed at the cynical indifference with which he ignored the dilemma. + +‘Business is one thing,’ he said, ‘and politics is something entirely +different.’ + +Hyacinth lost his temper completely. + +‘I shall write to the papers,’ he said, ‘and expose you. I shall have +your speech reprinted, and along with it an account of the way you +conduct your business.’ + +A mean, hard smile crossed Mr. Dowling’s mouth before he answered: + +‘Perhaps you don’t know that my wife is the Archbishop’s niece?’ + +Hyacinth stared at him. For a minute or two he entirely failed to +understand what Mrs. Dowling’s relationship to a great ecclesiastic had +to do with the question. At last a light broke on him. + +‘You mean that an editor wouldn’t print my letter because he would be +afraid of offending a Roman Catholic Archbishop?’ + +The expression ‘Roman Catholic’ caught Mr. Dowling’s attention. + +‘Are you a Protestant?’ he asked. ‘You are--a dirty Protestant--and you +dare to come here into my own house, and insult me and trample on my +religious convictions. I’m a Catholic and a member of the League. What +do you mean, you Souper, you Sour-face, by talking to me about Irish +manufactures? Get out of this house, and go to the hell that’s waiting +for you!’ + +As Hyacinth turned to go, there flashed across his mind the recollection +of Miss Goold and her friends who wrote for the _Croppy_. + +‘There’s one paper in Ireland, anyhow,’ he said, ‘which is not afraid +of your wife nor your Archbishop. I’ll write to the _Croppy_, and you’ll +see if they won’t publish the facts.’ + +Mr. Dowling grinned. + +‘I don’t care if they do,’ he said. ‘The priests are dead against the +_Croppy_, and there’s hardly a man in the town reads it. Go up there +now to Hely’s and try if you can buy a copy. I tell you it isn’t on sale +here at all, and whatever they publish will do me no harm.’ + +When Hyacinth returned to the hotel he found Mr. Holywell seated, with +the inevitable whisky-and-water beside him, in the commercial-room. + +‘Well, Mr. Conneally,’ he said, ‘and how is patriotism paying you? Find +people ready to buy what’s Irish?’ + +Hyacinth, boiling over with indignation, related his experience with Mr. +Dowling. + +‘What did I tell you?’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘But anyhow you’re just as +well out of a deal with that fellow. I wouldn’t care to do business with +him myself. I happen to know, and you may take my word for it’--his +voice sunk to a confidential whisper--‘that he’s very deep in the books +of two English firms, and that he daren’t--simply daren’t--place +an order with anyone else. They’d have him in the Bankruptcy Court +to-morrow if he did. I shouldn’t feel easy with Mr. Dowling’s cheque for +an account until I saw how the clerk took it across the bank counter. +You mark my words, there’ll be a fire in that establishment before the +year’s out.’ + +The prophecy was fulfilled, as Hyacinth learnt from the _Mayo +Telegraphy_ and Mr. Dowling’s whole stock of goods was consumed. There +were rumours that a sceptical insurance company made difficulties about +paying the compensation demanded; but the inhabitants of Ardnaree marked +their confidence in the husband of an Archbishop’s niece by presenting +him with an address of sympathy and a purse containing ten sovereigns. + +Most of Hyacinth’s business was done with small shopkeepers in remote +districts. The country-people who lived out of reach of such centres +of fashion as Ardnaree and Clogher were sufficiently unsophisticated to +prefer things which were really good. Hats and bonnets were not quite +universal among the women in the mountain districts far back where they +spoke Irish, and Mr. Quinn’s head-kerchiefs were still in request. Even +the younger women wanted garments which would keep them warm and dry, +and Hyacinth often returned well satisfied from a tour of the country +shops. Sometimes he doubted whether he ought to trust the people with +more than a few pounds’ worth of goods, but he gradually learnt that, +unlike the patriotic Mr. Dowling, they were universally honest. He +discovered, too, that these people, with their imperfect English and +little knowledge of the world, were exceedingly shrewd. They had very +little real confidence in oratorical politicians, and their interest +in public affairs went no further than voting consistently for the +man their priest recommended. But they quickly understood Hyacinth’s +arguments when he told them that the support of Irish manufactures would +help to save their sons and daughters from the curse of emigration. + +‘Faith, sir,’ said a shopkeeper who kept a few blankets and tweeds among +his flour-sacks and porter-barrels, ‘since you were talking to the boys +last month, I couldn’t induce one of them to take the foreign stuff if I +was to offer him a shilling along with it.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +When he returned to Ballymoy after his interview with Mr. Dowling, +Hyacinth set himself to fulfil his threat of writing to the _Croppy_. +He spent Saturday afternoon and evening in his lodgings with the paper +containing the blatant speech spread out before him. He blew his anger +to a white heat by going over the evidence of the man’s grotesque +hypocrisy. He wrote and rewrote his article. It was his first attempt +at expressing thought on paper since the days when he sought to satisfy +examiners with disquisitions on Dryden’s dramatic talent and other +topics suited to the undergraduate mind. This was a different business. +It was no longer a question of filling a sheet of foolscap with +grammatical sentences, discovering synonyms for words hard to spell. Now +thoughts were hot in him, and the art lay in finding words which would +blister and scorch. Time after time he tore up a page of bombast or +erased ridiculous flamboyancies. Late at night, with a burning head and +ice-cold feet, he made his last copy, folded it up, and, distrusting the +cooler criticism of the morning, went out and posted it to the _Croppy_. + +A letter from Miss Goold overtook him the following Thursday in the +hotel at Clogher. + +‘I was delighted to hear from you again,’ she wrote. ‘I was afraid +you had cut me altogether, gone over to the respectable people, and +forgotten poor Ireland. Captain Quinn told me that you and he had +quarrelled, and I gathered that you rather disapproved of him. Well, he +was a bit of a blackguard; but, after all, one doesn’t expect a man +who takes on a job of that kind to be anything else. I never thought +it would suit you, and you will do me the justice of remembering that I +never wanted you to volunteer. Now about your article. It was admirable. +These “Cheap Patriots”’--it was thus the article was headed--‘are just +the creatures we want to scarify. Dowling and his kind are the worst +enemies Ireland has to-day. We’ll publish anything of that kind you send +us, and remember we’re not the least afraid of anybody. It’s a grand +thing for a paper to be as impecunious as the _Croppy_. No man but +a fool would take a libel action against us with any hope of getting +damages. A jury might value Dowling’s character at any fantastic sum +they chose, but it would be a poor penny the _Croppy_ would pay. Still, +we’re not so hard up that we can’t give our contributors something, +and next week you’ll get a small cheque from the office. I hope it may +encourage you to send us more. Don’t be afraid to speak out. If anything +peculiarly seditious occurs to you, write it in Irish. I know it’s all +the same to you which language you write in. Do us half a column every +fortnight or so on Western life and politics.’ + +Hyacinth was absurdly elated by Miss Goold’s praise. He made up his +mind to contribute regularly to the _Croppy_, and had visions of a great +future as a journalist, or perhaps a literary exponent of the ideas of +Independent Ireland. + +Meanwhile, he became very intimate both with the Quinns and with Canon +Beecher’s family. Mrs. Quinn was an enthusiastic gardener, and early in +the spring Hyacinth helped her with her flowerbeds. He learnt to plait +the foliage of faded crocuses, and pin them tidily to the ground with +little wooden forks. He gathered suitable earth for the boxes in which +begonias made their earliest sproutings, and learned to know the +daffodils and tulips by their names. Later on he helped Mr. Quinn to mow +the grass and mix a potent weed-killer for the gravel walks. There came +to be an understanding that, whenever he was not absent on a journey, he +spent the latter part of the afternoon and the evening with the Quinns. +As the days lengthened the family tea was pushed back to later and later +hours to give more time out of doors. + +There is something about the very occupation of gardening which is +deadening to enthusiasm. Perhaps a man learns patience by familiarity +with growing plants. Nature is never in a hurry in a garden, and there +is no use in trying to hustle a flower, whereas a great impatience is +the very life-spirit of enthusiastic patriotism. There has probably +never been a revolutionary gardener, or even a strong Radical who worked +with open-air flowers. Of course, in greenhouses things can be forced, +and the spirit of the ardent reformer may find expression in the nurture +of premature blooms. Perhaps also the constant stooping which gardening +necessitates, especially in the early spring, when the weeds grow +plentifully, tends to destroy the stiff mental independence which must +be the attitude of the militant patriot. It is very difficult for a man +who has stooped long enough to have conquered his early cramps and aches +to face the problems of politics with uncompromising rigidity. Hyacinth +recognised with a curious qualm of disgust that his thoughts turned less +and less to Ireland’s wrongs and Ireland’s future as he learnt to care +for the flowers and the grass. + +No doubt, too, the atmosphere of the Quinns’ family life was not +congenial to the spirit of the Irish politician. Mrs. Quinn was totally +uninterested in politics, and except a prejudice in favour of what she +called loyalty, had absolutely no views on any question which did +not directly affect her home and her children. Mr. Quinn had a +coldly-reasonable political and economic creed, which acted on the +luxuriant fancies of Hyacinth’s enthusiasm as his weed-killer did on +the tender green of the paths. He declined altogether to see any good in +supporting Irish manufactures simply because they were Irish. The story +of O’Reilly’s attitude towards his shawls moved him to no indignation. + +‘I think he’s perfectly right,’ he said. ‘If a man can buy cheap shawls +in England he would be a fool to pay more for Irish ones. Business can’t +be run on those lines. I’m not an object of charity, and if I can’t +meet fair competition I must go under, and it’s right that I should go +under.’ + +Hyacinth had no answer to give. He shirked the point at issue, and +attacked Mr. Quinn along another line in the hope of arousing his +indignation. + +‘But it is not fair competition that you are called upon to face. Do +you call it fair competition when the Government subsidizes a woollen +factory in a convent?’ + +‘Ah!’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you are thinking of the four thousand pounds +the Congested Districts Board gave to the convent at Bobeen. But it is +hardly fair to hold the Government responsible for the way that body +wastes eighty thousand pounds a year.’ + +‘The Government is ultimately responsible, and you must admit that, +after such a gift, and in view of the others which will certainly +follow, you are called upon to meet most unfair competition.’ + +‘Yes, I admit that. But isn’t that exactly what you want to make +general? There doesn’t seem to me any difference between giving a bounty +to one industry and imposing a protective tariff in favour of another; +and if your preference for Irish manufactures means anything, it means +a sort of voluntary protection for every business in the country. If you +object to the Robeen business being subsidized you can’t logically try +to insist on mine being protected.’ + +It was puzzling to have the tables turned on him so adroitly. Hyacinth +was reduced to feeble threat. + +‘Just wait a while till the nuns get another four thousand pounds, and +perhaps four thousand pounds more after that, and see how it will affect +you.’ + +Mr. Quinn smiled. + +‘I’m not much afraid of nuns as trade competitors, or, for the matter of +that, of the Congested Districts Board either. If the Yorkshire people +would only import a few Mother Superiors to manage their factories, +and take the advice of members of our Board in their affairs, I would +cheerfully make them a present of any reasonable subsidy, and beat them +out of the market afterwards.’ + +There was another influence at work on Hyacinth’s mind which had as much +to do with the decay of his patriotism as either the gardening or Mr. +Quinn’s logic. Marion Beecher and her sister were very frequently at the +Mill House during the spring and summer. There was one long afternoon +which was spent in the marking out of the tennis-ground. Mr. Quinn had +theories involving calculations with a pencil and pieces of paper about +the surest method of securing right angles at the corners and parallel +lines down the sides of the court. Hyacinth and Marion worked obediently +with a tape measure and the garden line. One of the boys messed +cheerfully with a pail of liquid whitening. Afterwards the gardening was +somewhat deserted, and Hyacinth was instructed in the game. It took +him a long time to learn, and for many afternoons he and Marion were +regularly beaten, but she would not give up hope of him. Often the +excuse of her coming to the Quinns was the necessity of practising some +new hymn or chant for Sunday. Hyacinth worked as hard at the music as at +the tennis under her tuition, and there came a time when he could sing +an easy tenor part with fair accuracy. Then in the early summer, when +the evenings were warm, hymns were sung on the lawn in front of the +house. There seemed no incongruity in Marion Beecher’s company in +passing without a break from lawn-tennis to hymn-singing, and Mr. Quinn +was always ready to do his best at the bass with a serious simplicity, +as if it were a perfectly natural and usual thing to close an +afternoon’s amusement with ‘Rock of Ages.’ Hyacinth was not conscious of +any definite change in his attitude towards religion. He still believed +himself to be somehow outside the inner shrine of the life which the +Beechers and the Quinns lived, just as he had been outside his father’s +prayers. But he found it increasingly difficult after an hour or two of +companionship with Marion Beecher to get back to the emotions which had +swayed him during the weeks of his intimacy with Miss Goold. To write +for the _Croppy_ after sitting beside Marion in church on Sunday +evenings was like passing suddenly from a quiet wood into a heated +saloon where people wrangled. A wave of the old passionate feeling, when +it returned, affected him as raw spirit would the palate of a boy. + +One day early in summer--the short summer of Connaught, which is +glorious in June, and dissolves into windy mist and warm rain in the +middle of July--Hyacinth was invited by Canon Beecher to join a boating +party on the lake. The river, whose one useful function was the turning +of Mr. Quinn’s millwheel, wound away afterwards through marshy fields +and groves of willow-trees into the great lake. At its mouth the +Beechers kept their boat, a cumbrous craft, very heavy to row, but safe +and suited to carry a family in comfort. The party started early--Canon +Beecher, Hyacinth, and one of the boys very early, for they had to +walk the two miles which separated Ballymoy from the lake shore. Mrs. +Beecher, the girls, the two other boys, and the baskets of provisions +followed a little later on the Rectory car, packed beyond all +possibility of comfort. The Canon himself pulled an oar untiringly, but +without the faintest semblance of style, and the party rippled with joy +when they discovered that Hyacinth also could row. + +‘Now,’ said Elsie, ‘we can go anywhere. We can go on rowing and rowing +all day, and see places we’ve never seen before.’ + +‘My dear girl,’ said her mother, ‘remember that Mr. Conneally and your +father aren’t machines. You mustn’t expect them to go too far.’ + +‘Oh, but,’ said Elsie, ‘father says he never gets tired if he has only +one oar to pull.’ + +The Canon was preparing for his toil. The old coat, in colour now almost +olive green, was folded and used as a cushion by Marion in the bow. His +white cuffs, stowed inside his hat, were committed to the care of Mrs. +Beecher. He rolled his gray shirtsleeves up to the elbow, and unbuttoned +his waistcoat. + +‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m ready. If I’m not hurried, I’ll pull along all day. +But what about you, Conneally? You’re not accustomed to this sort of +thing?’ + +But Hyacinth for once was self-confident. He might be a poor singer and +a contemptible tennis player, but he knew that nothing which had to do +with boats could come amiss to him. He looked across the sparkling water +of the lake. + +‘I’ll go on as long as you like. You won’t tire me when there’s no tide +and no waves. This is a very different business from getting out the +sweeps to pull a nobby five miles against the strength of the ebb, with +a heavy ground swell running.’ + +About eleven o’clock they landed on an island and ate biscuits. The +Canon told Hyacinth the story of the ruin under whose walls they sat. + +‘It belonged to the Lynotts, the Welshmen of Tyrawley. They were at feud +with the Burkes, and one night in winter----’ + +The girls wandered away, carrying their biscuits with them. It is +likely that they had heard the story every summer as long as they could +remember. Mrs. Beecher alone still maintained an attitude of admiration +for her husband’s antiquarian knowledge, the more creditable because she +must have been familiar with the onset of the MacWilliam Burkes before +even Marion was old enough to listen. To Hyacinth the story was both +new and interesting. It stirred him to think of the Lynotts fighting +hopelessly, or begging mercy in the darkness and the cold just where he +sat now saturate with sunlight and with life. He gazed across the mile +of shining water which separated the castle from the land, and tried to +realize how the Irish servant-girl swam from the island with an infant +Lynott on her back, and saved the name from perishing. How the snow must +have beaten in her face and the lake-waves choked her breath! It was a +great story, but the girls, shouting from the water’s edge, reminded him +that he was out to pull an oar, and not to sentimentalize. He and the +Canon rose, half smiling, half sighing, and took their places in the +boat. + +They penetrated before luncheon time to a bay hitherto unknown to the +Beechers. A chorus of delight greeted its discovery. The water shone +bright green and very clear above the slabs of white limestone. The +shore far inland was almost verdure-less. Broad flat rocks lay baking +in the sunshine, and only the scantiest grass struggled up between their +edges. Sometimes they overlapped each other, and rose like an immense +staircase. Fifty yards or so from the land was a tiny island entirely +overgrown with stunted bushes. The boat was pushed up to it and a +landing-place sought, but the shrubs were too thick, and it was decided +to picnic among the rocks on the land. Then Marion in the bow made a +discovery. A causeway about a foot under water led from the island to +the shore. The whole party leaned over to examine it. Every stone was +visible in the clear water, and it was obvious that it had been planned +and built, and was no merely accidental formation of the rocks. The +Canon had heard of a similar device resorted to by an island hermit +to insure the privacy of his cell. Hyacinth spoke vaguely of the +settlements of primitive communities of lake-dwellers. The three boys +planned an expedition across the causeway after luncheon. + +‘We’ll carry our shoes and stockings with us,’ they said, ‘and then +explore the island. Perhaps there is a hermit there still, or +a primitive lake-dweller. What is a primitive lake-dweller, Mr. +Conneally?’ + +Hyacinth was uncertain, but hazarded a suggestion that the lake-dwellers +were the people who buried each other in raths. The Canon, whose +archaeology did not go back beyond St. Patrick, offered no correction. + +Tea was made later on in yet another bay, this time on the eastern shore +of the lake. An oak wood grew down almost to the water’s edge, and the +branches overhung a sandy beach, more golden than any sea-strand. The +whole party collected dead wood and broken twigs for the fire. Then, +while the girls unpacked the baskets and secured the kettle amidst the +smoke, Hyacinth lay back luxuriously and watched the sun set behind the +round-shouldered mountain opposite. The long, steep slope shone +bright green while the sun still rested in view above the summit; then +suddenly, when the topmost rim of it had dipped out of sight, the whole +mountainside turned purple, and a glory of gold and crimson hung above +it on the motionless streaks of cloud. Slowly the splendour faded, the +purple turned gray, and a faint breeze fluttered across the lake. + +The day was the first of many which Hyacinth gave to such expeditions. +The work of Mr. Quinn’s office was not so pressing as to necessitate +his spending every day there when he was in Ballymoy, and a holiday +was always obtainable. The lake scenery remained vivid in his memory in +after-years, and had its influence upon him even while he enjoyed it, +unconscious of anything except the present pleasure. There was something +besides the innocent gaiety of the girls and the simple sincerity of the +Canon’s platitudes, something about the lake itself, which removed him +to a spiritual region utterly remote from the fiery atmosphere of Miss +Goold’s patriotism. Many things which once loomed very large before him +sank to insignificance as he drank to the full of the desolation around +him. The past, in which no doubt men strove and hoped, hated and loved +and feared, had left the just recognisable ruins of some castles and the +causeway built by an unknown hermit or the prehistoric lake-dwellers. +A few thatched cabins, faintly smoking, and here and there a cairn of +stones gathered laboriously off the wretched fields, were the evidences +of present activity. Now and then a man hooted to his dog as it barked +at the sheep on the hillside, or a girl drove a turf-laden donkey inland +from the boggy shore. Otherwise there were no signs of human life. A +deep sense of monotony and inevitableness settled down upon Hyacinth. He +came for the first time under the great enchantment which paralyzes +the spirit and energy of the Celt. He knew himself to be, as his people +were, capable of spasms of enthusiasm, the victim of transitory burnings +of soul. But the curse was upon him--the inevitable curse of feeling too +keenly and seeing too clearly to be strenuous and constant. The flame +would die down, the enthusiasm would vanish--it was vanishing from him, +as he knew well--and leave him, not indeed content with common life, but +patient of it, and to the very end sad with the sense of possibilities +unrealized. + +Yet it was not without many struggles and periods of return to the older +emotions that Hyacinth surrendered his enthusiasm. There still recurred +to him memories of his father’s vision of an Armageddon and the +conception of his own part in it. Sometimes, waking very early in the +morning, he became vividly conscious of his own feebleness of will and +his falling away from great purposes. The conviction that he was called +to struggle for Ireland’s welfare, to sacrifice, if necessary, his life +and happiness for Ireland, was strong in him still. He felt himself +affected profoundly by the influences which surrounded him, but he had +not ceased to believe that the idea of self-sacrificing labour was for +him a high vocation. He writhed, his limbs twisting involuntarily, when +these thoughts beset him, and often he was surprised to discover that he +was actually uttering aloud words of self-reproach. + +Then he would write fiercely, brutally, catch at the excuse of some +hypocrisy or corruption, or else denounce selfishness and easy-going +patriotic sentiment, finding subject for his satire in himself. His +articles brought him letters of praise from Miss Goold. ‘You have it,’ +she wrote once, ‘the thing we all seek for, the power of beating red-hot +thought into sword-blades. Write more like the last.’ But the praise +always came late. The violent mood, the self-reproach, the bitterness, +were past. His life was wrapt round again with softer influences, and he +read his own words with shame when they reached him in print. Afterwards +for a while, if he wrote at all, it was of the peasant life, of quaint +customs, half-forgotten legends and folklore. These articles appeared +too, but brought no praise from Miss Goold. Once she reproached him when +he lapsed into gentleness for many consecutive weeks. + +‘You oughtn’t to waste yourself. There are fifty men and women can do +the sort of thing you’re doing now; we don’t want you to take it up. +It’s fighting men we need, not maundering sentimentalists.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +It was during the second year of Hyacinth’s residence in Ballymoy that +the station-master at Clogher died. The poor man caught a cold one +February night while waiting for a train which had broken down three +miles outside his station. From the cold came first pneumonia, and then +the end. Now, far to the east of Clogher, on a different branch of the +railway-line, is a town with which the people of Mayo have no connection +whatever. In it is a very flourishing Masonic lodge. Almost every male +Protestant in the town and the neighbourhood belongs to it, and the +Rector of the parish is its chaplain. Among its members at that time was +an intelligent young man who occupied the position of goods clerk on the +railway. The Masonic brethren, as in duty bound, used their influence to +secure his promotion, and brought considerable pressure to bear on the +directors of the company to have him made station-master at Clogher. + +It is said with some appearance of truth that no appointment in Ireland +is ever made on account of the fitness of the candidate for the post +to be filled. Whether the Lord Lieutenant has to nominate a Local +Government Board Inspector, or an Urban Council has to select a street +scavenger, the principle acted on is the same. No investigation is made +about the ability or character of a candidate. Questions may be asked +about his political opinions, his religious creed, and sometimes about +the social position of his wife, but no one cares in the least about his +ability. The matter really turns upon the amount of influence which +he can bring to bear. So it happened that John Crawford, Freemason and +Protestant, was appointed station-master at Clogher. Of course, nobody +really cared who got the post except a few seniors of John Crawford’s, +who wanted it for themselves. Probably even they would have stopped +grumbling after a month or two if it had not happened that a leading +weekly newspaper, then at the height of its popularity and influence, +was just inaugurating a crusade against Protestants and Freemasons. +The case of John Crawford became the subject of a series of bitter and +vehement articles. It was pointed out that although Roman Catholics were +beyond all question more intelligent, better educated, and more upright +than Protestants, they were condemned by the intolerance of highly-paid +officials to remain hewers of wood and drawers of water. It was shown by +figures which admitted of no controversy that Irish railways, banks, and +trading companies were, without exception, on the verge of bankruptcy, +entirely owing to the apathy of shareholders who allowed their interests +to be sacrificed to the bigotry of directors. It was urged that a +public meeting should be held at Clogher to protest against the new +appointment. + +The meeting was convened, and Father Fahey consented to occupy the +chair. He was supported by a dispensary doctor, anxious to propitiate +the Board of Guardians with a view to obtaining a summer holiday; a +leading publican, who had a son at Maynooth; a grazier, who dreaded the +possible partition of his ranch by the Congested Districts Board; and +Mr. O’Reilly, who saw a hope of drawing custom from the counter of his +rival draper, the Scotchman. + +Father Fahey opened the proceedings with a speech. He assured his +audience that he was not actuated by any spirit of religious bigotry +or intolerance. He wished well to his Protestant fellow-countrymen, +and hoped that in the bright future which lay before Ireland men of all +creeds would be united in working for the common good of their country. +These sentiments were not received with vociferous applause. The +audience was perfectly well aware that something much more to the point +was coming, and reserved their cheers. Father Fahey did not +disappoint them. He proceeded to show that the appointment of the new +station-master was a deliberate insult to the faith of the inhabitants +of Clogher. + +‘Are we,’ he asked, ‘to submit tamely to having the worst evils of the +old ascendancy revived in our midst?’ + +He was followed by the dispensary doctor, who also began by declaring +his freedom from bigotry. He confused the issue slightly by complaining +that the new station-master was entirely ignorant of the Irish language. +It was perfectly well known that in private life the doctor was in the +habit of expressing the greatest contempt for the Gaelic League, and +that he could not, if his life depended on it, have translated even Mr. +O’Reilly’s advertisements; but his speech was greeted with tumultuous +cheers. He proceeded to harrow the feelings of his audience by +describing what he had heard at the railway-station one evening while +waiting for the train. As he paced the platform his attention was +attracted by the sound of a piano in the station-master’s house. He +listened, and, to his amazement and disgust, heard the tune of a popular +song, ‘a song’--he brought down his fist on the table as he uttered the +awful indictment--‘imported from England.’ + +‘I ask,’ he went on--‘I ask our venerated and beloved parish priest; +I ask you, fathers of innocent families; I ask every right-thinking +patriot in this room, are our ears to be insulted, our morals corrupted, +our intellects depraved, by sounds like these?’ + +He closed his speech by proposing a resolution requiring the railway +company to withdraw the obnoxious official from their midst. + +The oratory of the grazier, who seconded the resolution, was not +inferior. It filled his heart with a sense of shame, so he said, to +think of his cattle, poor, innocent beasts of the field, being +handled by a Protestant. They had been bred, these bullocks of his, +by Catholics, fed by Catholics, were owned by a Catholic, bought with +Catholic money at the fairs, and yet they were told that in all Ireland +no Catholic could be discovered fit to put them into a train. + +Neither the resolution itself nor the heart-rending appeal of the +grazier produced the slightest effect on the railway company. John +Crawford continued to sell tickets, even to Father Fahey himself, and +appeared entirely unconcerned by the fuss. + +About a fortnight after the meeting Hyacinth spent a night in Clogher. +Mr. Holywell, the cigarette man, happened to be in the hotel, and, as +usual, got through a good deal of desultory conversation while he drank +his whisky-and-water. Quite unexpectedly, and apropos of nothing that +had been said, he plumped out the question: + +‘What religion are you, Conneally?’ + +The inquiry was such an unusual one, and came so strangely from Mr. +Holywell, who had always seemed a Gallio in matters spiritual, that +Hyacinth hesitated. + +‘I’m a Baptist myself,’ he went on, apparently with a view to palliating +his inquisitiveness by a show of candour. ‘I find it a very convenient +sort of religion in Connaught. There isn’t a single place of worship +belonging to my denomination in the whole province, so I’m always able +to get my Sundays to myself. I don’t want to convert you to anything or +to argue with you, but I have a fancy that you are a Church of Ireland +Protestant.’ + +Hyacinth admitted the correctness of the guess, and wondered what was +coming next. + +‘Ever spend a Sunday here?’ + +‘Never,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I always get back home for the end of the week +if I can.’ + +‘Ah! Well, do you know, if I were you, I should spend next Sunday here, +and go to Mass.’ + +‘I shall not do anything of the sort.’ + +‘Well, it’s your own affair, of course; only I just think I should do it +if I were you. Good-night.’ + +‘Wait a minute,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I want to know what you mean.’ + +Mr. Holywell sat down again heavily. + +‘Been round your customers here lately?’ + +‘No. I only arrived this evening, and have done nothing yet. I mean to +go round them to-morrow.’ + +‘You may just as well go home by the early train for all the good you’ll +do.’ + +Hyacinth restrained himself with an effort. He reflected that he was +more likely to get at the meaning of these mysterious warnings if he +refrained from direct questioning. After a minute of two of silence Mr. +Hollywell went on: + +‘They had a meeting here a little while ago about the appointment of +a Protestant station-master. They didn’t take much by it so far as the +railway company is concerned, but I happen to know that word has gone +round that every shopkeeper in the town is to order his goods as far as +possible from Catholics. Now, everybody knows your boss is a Protestant, +but the people are a little uncertain about you. They’ve never seen you +at Mass, which is suspicious, but, on the other hand, the way you gas on +about Irish manufactures makes them think you can’t be a Protestant. +The proper thing for you to do is to lie low till you’ve put in an +appearance at Mass, and then go round and try for orders.’ + +‘That’s the kind of thing,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I couldn’t do if I had +no religion at all; but it happens that I have convictions of a sort, +and I don’t mean to go against them.’ + +‘Oh, well, as I said before, it’s your own affair; only better +Protestants than you have done as much. Why, I do it myself constantly, +and everyone knows that a Baptist is the strongest kind of Protestant +there is.’ + +This reasoning, curiously enough, proved unconvincing. + +‘I can’t believe,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that a religious boycott of the kind +is possible. People won’t be such fools as to act clean against their +own interests. Considering that nine-tenths of the drapery goods in the +country come from England and are sold by Protestant travellers, I don’t +see how the shopkeepers could act as you say.’ + +‘Oh, of course they won’t act against their own interests. I’ve never +come across a religion yet that made men do that. They won’t attempt to +boycott the English firms, because, as you say, they couldn’t; but they +can boycott you. Everything your boss makes is turned out just as well +and just as cheap, or cheaper, by the nuns at Robeen. Perhaps you didn’t +know that these holy ladies have hired a traveller. Well, they have, and +he’s a middling smart man, too--quite smart enough to play the trumps +that are put into his hand; and he’s got a fine flush of them now. What +with the way that wretched rag of a paper, which started all the fuss, +goes on rampaging, and the amount of feeling that’s got up over the +station-master, the peaceablest people in the place would be afraid to +deal with a Protestant at the present moment. The Robeen man has the +game in his own hands, and I’m bound to say he’d be a fool if he didn’t +play it for all it’s worth. I’d do it myself if I was in his shoes.’ + +Hyacinth discovered next day that Mr. Holywell had summed up the +situation very accurately. No point-blank questions were asked about his +religion, but he could by no means persuade his customers to give him +even a small order. Every shop-window was filled with goods placarded +ostentatiously as ‘made in Robeen.’ Every counter had tweeds, blankets, +and flannels from the same factory. No one was in the least uncivil to +him, and no one assigned any plausible reason for refusing to deal with +him. He was simply bowed out as quickly as possible from every shop he +entered. + +He returned home disgusted and irritated, and told his tale to his +employer. Mr. Quinn recognised the danger that threatened him. For the +first time, he admitted that his business was being seriously injured +by the competition of Robeen. He took Hyacinth into his confidence more +fully than he had ever done before, and explained what seemed to be a +hopeful plan. + +‘I may tell you, Conneally, that I have very little capital to fall back +upon in my business. Years ago when things were better than they are +now, I had a few thousands put by, but most of it went on buying my +brother Albert’s share of the mill. Lately I have not been able to save, +and at the present moment I can lay hands on very little money. Still, I +have something, and what I mean to do is this: I shall give up all idea +of making a profit for the present. I shall even sell my goods at a +slight loss, and try to beat the nunnery out of the market. I think +this religious animosity will weaken after a while, and if we offer the +cheapest goods we must in the end get back our customers.’ + +Hyacinth was not so sanguine. + +‘You forget,’ he said, ‘that these people have Government money at their +backs, and are likely to get more of it. If you sell at a loss they will +do so, too, and ask for a new grant from the Congested Districts Board +to make good their deficiency.’ + +Mr. Quinn sighed. + +‘That is quite possible,’ he said. ‘But what can I do? I must make a +fight for my business.’ + +Hyacinth hesitated. + +‘Perhaps I have no right to make the suggestion, but it seems to me that +you are bound to be beaten. Would it not be better to give in at once? +Don’t risk the money you have safe. Keep it, and try to sell the mill +and the business.’ + +‘I shall hold on,’ said Mr. Quinn. + +‘Ought you not to think of your wife? Remember what it will mean to +her if you are beaten in the end, when your savings are gone and your +business unsaleable.’ + +For a moment there were signs of wavering in Mr. Quinn’s face. The +fingers of his hands twisted in and out of each other, and a pitiable +look of great distress came into his eyes. Then he unclasped his hands +and placed them flat on the table before him. + +‘I shall hold on,’ he said. ‘I shall not close my mill while I have a +shilling left to pay my workers with.’ + +‘Well,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it is for you to decide. At least, you can count +on my doing my best, my very best.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Mr. Quinn carried on his struggle for nearly a year, although from the +very first he might have recognised its hopelessness. Time after time +Hyacinth made his tour, and visited the shopkeepers who had once been +his customers. Occasionally he succeeded in obtaining orders, and a +faint gleam of hope encouraged him, but he had no steady success. Mr. +Quinn’s original estimate of the situation was so far justified that +after a while the religious animosity died out. Shopkeepers even +explained apologetically that they gave their orders to the Robeen +convent for purely commercial reasons. + +‘Their goods are cheaper than yours, and that’s the truth, Mr. +Conneally.’ + +Hyacinth recognised that Mr. Quinn was being beaten at his own game. He +had attempted to drive the nuns out of the market by underselling them, +and now it appeared that they, too, were prepared to face a loss. It was +obvious that their losses must be great, much greater than Mr. Quinn’s. +Rumours were rife of large loans raised by the Mother Superior, of +mortgages on the factory buildings and the machinery. These stories +brought very little consolation, for, as Hyacinth knew, Mr. Quinn was +very nearly at the end of his resources. He refused to borrow. + +‘When I am forced to close up,’ he said, ‘I shall do so with a clear +balance-sheet. I have no wish for bankruptcy.’ + +‘I should like,’ said Hyacinth vindictively, ‘to see the Reverend Mother +reduced to paying a shilling in the pound.’ + +‘I am afraid,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you won’t see that. The convent is a +branch of an immense organization. No doubt, if it comes to a pinch, +funds will be forthcoming.’ + +‘Yes, and they won’t draw on their own purse till they have got all +they can out of the Congested Districts Board. I have no doubt they are +counting on another four thousand pounds to start them clear when they +have beaten you.’ + +One day, quite accidentally, Hyacinth came by a piece of information +about the working of the Robeen factory which startled him. He was +travelling home by rail. It happened to be Friday, and, as usual in +the early summer, the train was crowded with emigrants on their way to +Queenstown. The familiar melancholy crowd waited on every platform. +Old women weeping openly and men with faces ridiculously screwed and +puckered in the effort to restrain the rising tears clung to their sons +and daughters. Pitiful little boxes and carpet bags were piled on +the platform. Friends clung to hands outstretched through the +carriage-windows while the train moved slowly out. Then came the long +mournful wail from those left behind, and the last wavings of farewell. +At the Robeen station the crowd was no less than elsewhere. The +carriages set apart for the emigrants were full, and at the last minute +two girls were hustled into the compartment where Hyacinth sat. A woman, +their mother, mumbled and slobbered over their hands. An old man, too +old to be their father, shouted broken benedictions to them. Two +young men--lovers, perhaps, or brothers--stood red-eyed, desolate and +helpless, without speaking. After the train had started Hyacinth looked +at the girls. One of them, a pretty creature of perhaps eighteen years +old, wept quietly in the corner of the carriage. Beside her lay her +carpet bag and a brown shawl. On her lap was an orange, and she held a +crumpled paper bag of biscuits in her hand. There was nothing unusual +about her. She was just one instance of heartbreak, the heart-break of a +whole nation which loves home as no other people have ever loved it, and +yet are doomed, as it seems inevitably, to leave it. She was just one +more waif thrown into the whirlpool of the great world to toil and +struggle, succeed barrenly or pitifully fail; but through it all, +through even the possible loss of faith and ultimate degradation, fated +to cling to a love for the gray desolate fatherland. The other girl +was different. Hyacinth looked at her with intense interest. She was the +older of the two, and not so pretty as her sister. Her face was thin and +pale, and a broad scar under one ear showed where a surgeon’s knife had +cut. She sat with her hands folded on her lap, gazing dry-eyed out of +the window beside her. There was no sign of sorrow on her face, nothing +but a kind of sulky defiance. + +After a while she took the paper bag out of her sister’s hand, opened +it, and began to eat the gingerbread biscuits it contained. Hyacinth +spoke to her, but she turned her head away, and would not answer him. +His voice seemed to rouse the younger sister, who stopped crying and +looked at him curiously. He tried again, and this time he spoke in +Irish. + +At once the younger girl brightened and answered him. Apparently she had +no fear that malice could lurk in the heart of a man who spoke her own +language. In a few minutes she was chatting to him as if he were an old +friend. + +He learnt that the two girls were on their way to New York. They had +a sister there who had sent them the price of their tickets. Yes, the +sister was in a situation, was getting good wages, and had clothes ‘as +grand as a lady’s.’ She had sent home a photograph at Christmas-time, +which their mother had shown all round the parish. These two were to get +situations also as soon as they arrived. Oh yes, there was no doubt of +it: Bridgy had promised. There were four of them left at home--three +boys and a girl. No doubt in time they would all follow Bridgy to +America--all but Seumas; he was to have the farm. No, the girls +could not get married, because their father was too poor to give them +fortunes. There was nothing for them but to go to America. But their +mother had not wanted them to go. The clergy and the nuns were against +the girls going. Indeed, they nearly had them persuaded to send Bridgy’s +money back. + +‘But Onny was set on going.’ + +She glanced at her sister in the corner of the carriage. Hyacinth turned +to her. + +‘Why do you want to leave Ireland?’ + +But Onny remained silent, sulky, at it seemed. It was the younger girl +who answered him. + +‘They say it’s a fine life they have out there. There’s good money to be +earned, and mightn’t we be coming home some day with a fortune?’ + +‘But aren’t you sorry to leave Ireland?’ + +Again he looked at the elder girl, and this time was rewarded with a +flash of defiant bitterness from her eyes. + +‘Sorry, is it? No, but I’m glad!’ + +‘Onny’s always saying that there was nothing to be earned in the +factory. And she got more than the rest of us. Wasn’t she the first girl +that Sister Mary Aloysius picked out of the school when the young lady +from England came over to teach us? She was the best worker they had.’ + +‘It’s true what she says,’ said Onny. ‘I was the best worker they had. I +worked for them for three years, and all I was getting at the end of it +was six shillings a week. Why would I be working for that when I might +be getting wages like Bridgy’s in America? What sense would there be in +it?’ + +‘But why did you work for such wages?’ + +‘Well, now,’ said the younger girl, ‘how could we be refusing the +Reverend Mother when she came round the town herself, and gave warning +that we’d all be wanted?’ + +‘There’s few,’ continued Onny, without noticing her sister, ‘that earned +as much as I did. Many a girl works there and has no more than one and +ninepence to take home at the end of the week.’ + +Hyacinth began to understand how it was that Mr. Quinn was being +hopelessly beaten. This was no struggle between two trade rivals, to be +won by the side with the longer purse. Nor was it simply a fight between +an independent manufacturer and a firm fed with Government bounties. Mr. +Quinn’s rival could count on an unlimited supply of labour at starvation +wages, while he had to hire men and women at the market value of their +services. He had been sorry for the two girls when they got into the +train. Now he felt almost glad that they were leaving Ireland. It +appeared that they had certainly chosen the wiser part. + +He arrived at home dejected, and sat down beside the fire in his room +to give himself up to complete despair. He found no hope anywhere. Irish +patriotism, so he saw it, was a matter of words and fine phrases. No one +really believed in it or would venture anything for it. Politics was a +game at which sharpers cheated each other and the people. The leaders +were bold only in sordid personal quarrels. The mass of the people were +utterly untouched by the idea of nationality, in earnest about nothing +but huckstering and petty gains. Over all was the grip of a foreign +bureaucracy and a selfish Church tightening slowly, squeezing out the +nation’s life, grasping and holding fast its wealth. No man any longer +made any demand except to be allowed to earn what would buy whisky +enough to fuddle him into temporary forgetfulness of the present misery +and the imminent tyranny. + +The slatternly maid-servant who brought him his meals and made his bed +tapped at the door. + +‘Please, sir, Jimmy Loughlin’s after coming with a letter from Mr. +Quinn, and he’s waiting to know if you’ll go.’ + +Hyacinth read the note, which asked him to call on his employer that +afternoon. + +‘Tell him I’ll be there.’ + +‘Will you have your dinner before you go? The chops is in the pan below. +Or will I keep them till you come back?’ + +‘Oh, I’ve time enough. Bring them as soon as they’re cooked, and for +goodness’ sake see that the potatoes are properly boiled.’ + +He took up a great English weekly paper, with copies of which Canon +Beecher supplied him at irregular intervals, and propped it against +the dish-cover while he ate. The article which caught his attention was +headed ‘Angels in Connaught.’ It contained an idealized account of the +work of the Robeen nuns, from whose shoulders it seemed to the writer +likely that wings would soon sprout. There was a description of the once +miserable cabins now transformed into homesteads so comfortable that +English labourers would not disdain them. The people shared in the +elevation of their surroundings. Men and women, lately half-naked +savages, starved and ignorant, had risen in the scale of civilization +and intelligence to a level which almost equalled that of a Hampshire +villager. The double stream of emigration to the United States and +migration to the English harvest-fields was stopped. An earthly paradise +had been created in a howling wilderness by the self-denying labours of +the holy ladies, aided by the statesmanlike liberality of the Congested +Districts Board. There was another page of the article, but Hyacinth +could stand no more. + +He stood up and glanced at his watch. It was already nearly five +o’clock. He pushed his way down the street, where the country-people, +having completed their week’s marketing, were loading donkeys on the +footpath or carts pushed backwards against the kerbstone. Women dragged +their heavily-intoxicated husbands from the public-houses, and girls, +damp and bedraggled, stood in groups waiting for their parents. He +turned into the gloomy archway of the mill, unlocked the iron gate, and +crossed the yard into the Quinns’ garden. The lamp burned brightly in +the dining-room, and he could see Mrs Quinn in her chair by the fireside +sewing. Her children sat on the rug at her feet. He saw their faces +turned up to hers, gravely intent. No doubt she was telling them some +story. He stood for a minute and watched them, while the peaceful joy +of the scene entered into his heart. This, no doubt, a home full of such +love and peace, was the best thing life had got to give. It was God’s +most precious benediction. ‘Lo, thus shall a man be blessed who feareth +the Lord.’ He turned and passed on to the door. The servant showed him +in, not, as he expected, to the sitting-room he had just gazed at, but +to Mr. Quinn’s study. + +It was a desolate chamber. A plain wooden desk like a schoolmaster’s +stood in one corner, and upon it a feeble lamp. A bookcase surmounted a +row of cupboards along one wall. Its contents--Hyacinth had often looked +over them--were a many-volumed encyclopaedia, Macaulay’s ‘History of +England,’ Foxe’s ‘Book of Martyrs,’ a series entitled ‘Heroes of the +Reformation,’ and some bound volumes of a trade journal. Above the +chimneypiece hung two trout-rods, a landing-net, and an old gun. The +grate was fireless. It was a room obviously not loved by its owner. +Neither pleasure nor comfort was looked for in it. It was simply a place +of escape from the attractions of quiet ease when business overflowed +the proper office hours. Mr. Quinn rose from his desk when Hyacinth +entered. + +‘I am very glad to see you,’ he said; ‘I want to have a talk with you.’ + +Hyacinth waited while he arranged and rearranged some papers on the desk +in front of him. Mr. Quinn, although he had specially sent for Hyacinth, +seemed in no hurry to get to the subject of the interview. When he did +speak, it was evident from his tone that the important topic was still +postponed. + +‘How did you get on this week?’ + +Hyacinth had nothing good to report. He took from his pocket the +note-book in which he entered his orders, and went over it. It contained +an attenuated list. Moreover, the harvest had been bad, and old debts +very difficult to collect. Mr. Quinn listened, apparently not very +attentively, and when the reading was over said: + +‘What you report this week is simply a repetition of the story of the last +six months. I did not expect it to be different. It makes the decision +I have to make a little more inevitable, that is all. Mr. Conneally, we +have been very good friends, and since you have been in my employment I +have been satisfied with you in every way. Now I am unable to employ you +any longer. I am giving up my business.’ + +Hyacinth made an effort to speak, but Mr. Quinn held up his hand and +silenced him. + +‘This week,’ he continued, ‘I received news which settled the matter +for me. Jameson and Thorpe, the big drapers in Dublin, were my best +customers for certain goods. Last Monday they wrote that they had an +offer of blankets at a figure a long way below mine. I didn’t believe +that articles equal in quality to mine could be produced at the price, +and wrote a hint to that effect. I received--nothing could have been +more courteous--a sample of the blankets offered. Well, I admit that it +was at least equal to what I could supply in every way. I wrote again +asking as a favour to be supplied with the name of the competing firm. I +got the answer to-day. Mr. Thorpe wrote himself. The Robeen convent has +undersold me.’ + +Hyacinth made another attempt to speak. + +‘Let me finish,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘I had foreseen, of course, that this +was coming. I have no more capital to fall back upon. I do not mean to +run into debt. There is nothing for me but to dismiss my employées and +shut up.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And then----’ + +He knew he had no right to ask a question about the future, but the +thought of Mrs. Quinn and her children as he had seen them in the +dining-room almost forced him to inquire what was to happen to them. A +spasm of extreme pain crossed Mr. Quinn’s face. + +‘You are thinking of my wife. It will be hard--yes, very hard. She loved +this place, her friends here, her garden, and all the quiet, peaceful +life we have lived. Well, there is to be an end of it. But don’t look so +desperate.’ He forced himself to smile as he spoke. ‘We shall not starve +or go to the workhouse. I have a knowledge of woollen goods if I have +nothing else, and I dare say I can get an appointment as foreman or +traveller for some big drapery house. But I may not be reduced to that. +There is a secretary wanted just now in the office of one of the Dublin +charitable societies. I mean to apply for the post. Canon Beecher and +our Bishop are both members of the committee, and I am sure will do +their best for me. The salary is not princely--a hundred and twenty +pounds a year, I think. But there, I ought not to be talking all this +time about myself. I must try and do something for you.’ + +‘Never mind me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I shall be all right. But I can’t bear +to think of you and Mrs. Quinn. Poverty like that in Dublin! Have you +thought what it means? A shabby little house in a crowded street, off at +the back of somewhere; dirt and stuffiness and vulgarity all around you. +She can’t be expected to stand it--or you either.’ + +‘My dear boy,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘my wife and I have been trying all our +lives to be Christians. Shall we receive good at the Lord’s hand and not +evil also? However it may be with me, I know that she will not fail in +the trial.’ + +His face lit up as he spoke, and the smile on it was no longer forced, +but clear and brave. Hyacinth knew that he was once again in the +presence of that mysterious power which enables men and women to meet +and conquer loss and pain, against which every kind of misfortune beats +in vain. His eyes filled with tears as he took Mr. Quinn’s hand and bade +him good-night. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Hyacinth had three months’ work to do before he actually left Mr. +Quinn’s employment. He knew that at the end of that time he would be +left absolutely without income, and that it was necessary for him to +look out for some other situation. He reckoned up the remains of his +original capital, and found himself with little more than a hundred +pounds to fall back upon. Yet he did nothing. From time to time he +bestirred himself, pondered the newspaper advertisements of vacant +situations, and mentally resolved to commence his search at once. Always +some excuse offered itself to justify putting the unpleasant business +off, and he allowed himself to slip back into the quiet routine of life +as if no catastrophe threatened him. He was, indeed, far more troubled +about the Quinns’ future than his own, and when, at the end of April, +Canon Beecher returned from Dublin with the news that he had secured the +secretaryship of the Church of Ireland Scriptural Schools Society for +Mr. Quinn, Hyacinth felt that his mind was relieved of a great anxiety. +That no such post had been discovered for him did not cost him a +thought. In spite of his spasmodic efforts to goad himself into a +condition of reasonable anxiety for his future, there remained half +consciously present in his mind a conviction that somehow a way of +getting sufficient food and clothes would offer itself in due time. + +The conviction was justified by the event. It was on Saturday evening +that the Canon returned with his good news, and on Sunday morning +Hyacinth received a letter from Miss Goold. + +‘You have no doubt heard,’ she wrote, ‘that we have got a new editor +for the Croppy--Patrick O’Dwyer, Mary’s brother. Of course, you remember +Mary and her unpoetical hysterics the morning after the Rotunda meeting. +The new editor is a splendid man. He has been on the staff of a New +York paper for the last five years, and thoroughly understands the whole +business. But that’s not the best of him. He hates England worse than +I do. I’m only a child beside him, bursting out into fits of temper +now and then, and cooling off again. He hates steadily, quietly, and +intensely. But even that is not all that is to be said. He has got +brains--brains enough, my dear Hyacinth, to make fools of you and me +every day and all day long. He has devised a new policy for Ireland. The +plan is simplicity itself, like all really great plans, and it _must_ +succeed. I won’t go into it now, because I want you to come up to Dublin +and see O’Dwyer. He tells me that he needs somebody else besides himself +on the staff of the _Croppy_, which, by the way, is to be enlarged and +improved. He wants a man who can write a column a week in Irish, as well +as an article now and then in good strong plain English. I suggested +your name to him, and showed him some of the articles you had written. +He was greatly pleased with the one about O’Dowd’s cheap patriotism, and +liked one or two of the others. He just asked one question about you: +“Does Mr. Conneally hate England and the Empire, and everything English, +from the Parliament to the police barrack? It is this hatred which must +animate the work.” I said I thought you did. I told him how you had +volunteered to fight for the Boers, and about the day you nearly killed +that blackguard Shea. He seemed to think that was good enough, and asked +me to write to you on the subject. We can’t offer you a big salary. The +editor himself is only to get a hundred pounds a year for the present, +and I am guaranteeing another hundred for you. I am confident that I +shan’t have to pay it for more than six months. The paper is sure to go +as it never went before, and in a few years we shall be able to treble +O’Dwyer’s salary and double yours. Nothing like such a chance has ever +offered itself in Irish history before. Everything goes to show that +this is our opportunity. England is weaker than she has been for +centuries, is clinging desperately to the last tatters of her old +prestige. She hasn’t a single statesman capable of thinking or acting +vigorously. Her Parliament is the laughingstock of Europe. Her Irish +policy may be summed up in four words--intrigue with the Vatican. In +Ireland the power of the faithful garrison is gone. The Protestants in +the North are sick of being fooled by one English party after another. +The landlords, or what’s left of them, are beginning to discover that +they have been bought and sold. The Bishops, England’s last line of +defence, are overreaching themselves, and we are within measurable +distance of the day when the Church will be put into her proper place. +There is not so much as a shoneen publican in a country town left who +believes in the ranting of O’Rourke and his litter of blind whelps. +Ireland is simply crying out for light and leading, and the _Croppy_ +is going to give both. You always wanted to serve Ireland. Now I am +offering you the chance. I don’t say you ought to thank me, though you +will thank me to the day of your death. I don’t say that you have an +opportunity of becoming a great man. I know you, and I know a better way +of making sure of you than that. I say to you, Hyacinth Conneally, that +we want you--just _you_ and nobody else. Ireland wants you.’ + +The letter, especially the last part of it, was sufficiently ridiculous +to have moved Hyacinth to a smile. But it did no such thing. On the +contrary, its rhetoric excited and touched him. The flattery of the +final sentences elated him. The absurdity of the idea that Ireland +needed him, a fifth-rate office clerk, an out-of-work commercial +traveller who had failed to sell blankets and flannels, did not strike +him at all. The figure of Augusta Goold rose to his mind. She flashed +before him, an Apocalyptic angel, splended and terrible, trumpet-calling +him to the last great fight. He forgot in an instant the Quinns and +their trouble. The years of quietness in Ballymoy, the daily intercourse +with gentle people, the atmosphere of the religion in which he had +lived, fell away from him suddenly. + +He sat absorbed in an ecstasy of joyful excitement until the jangling of +Canon Beecher’s church bell recalled him to common life again. It speaks +for the strength of the habits he had formed in Ballymoy that he rose +without hesitation and went to take his part in the morning service. + +He sat down as usual beside Marion Beecher and her harmonium. He +listened to her playing until her father entered. He found himself +gazing at her when she stood up for the opening words of the service. +He felt himself strangely affected by the gentleness of her face and the +slender beauty of her form. When she knelt down he could not take +his eyes off her. There came over him an inexplicable softening, a +relaxation of the tense excitement of the morning. He thought of her +kneeling there in the faded shabby church Sunday after Sunday for years +and years, when he was working at hot pressure far away. He knew just +how her eyes would look calmly, trustfully up to the God she spoke +to; how her soul would grow in gentleness; how love would be the very +atmosphere around her. And all the while he would struggle and fight, +with no inspiration except a bitter hate. Suddenly there came on him a +feeling that he could not leave her. The very thought of separation +was a fierce pain. A desire of her seized on him like uncontrollable +physical hunger. Wherever he might be, whatever life might have in store +for him, he knew that his heart would go back to her restlessly, and +remain unsatisfied without her. He understood that he loved her. Canon +Beecher’s voice came to him as if from an immense distance: + +‘O God, make speed to save us.’ + +Then he heard very clearly Marion’s sweet voice replying: + +‘O Lord, make haste to help us.’ + +There was a faint shuffling, and the congregation rose to their feet. +His eyes were still on Marion, and now his whole body quivered with the +force of his newly-found love. She half turned and looked at him. For +one instant their eyes met, and he saw in hers a flash of recognition, +then a strange look of fear, and she turned away from him, flushed and +trembling. He saw that she had read his heart and knew his love. + +‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,’ read +the Canon heavily. + +Hyacinth’s heart swelled in him. His whole being seemed to throb with +exultation, and he responded in a voice he could not recognise for his. + +‘As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without +end. Amen.’ + +Marion stood silent. Her head was bowed down, and her hands clasped +tight together. + +Of the remainder of the morning’s service Hyacinth could never +afterwards remember anything. No doubt Canon Beecher read the Psalms and +lessons and prayers; no doubt he preached. Probably, also, hymns were +sung, and Marion played them, but he could not imagine how. It seemed +quite impossible that she could have touched the keys with her fingers, +or that she could have uttered any sound; yet no one had remarked the +absence of hymns or even noticed any peculiarity in their performance. +Not till after the service was over did he regain full consciousness +of himself and his surroundings; then he became exceedingly alert. He +watched the Canon disappear into the vestry, heard the congregation +trample down the aisle, listened to Marion playing a final voluntary. +It seemed to him as he sat there waiting for her to stop that she played +much longer than usual. He could hear Mrs. Beecher and Mr. Quinn talking +in the porch, and every moment he expected the Canon to appear. At last +the music ceased, and the lid of the harmonium was closed and locked. He +stepped forward and took Marion’s hands in his. + +‘Marion,’ he said, ‘I love you. It was only this morning that I found +it out, but I know--oh, I know--that I love you far, far more than I can +tell you.’ + +The hand which lay in his grew cold, and the girl’s head was bowed so +that he could not see her face. He felt her tremble. + +‘Marion, Marion, I love you, love you, love you!’ + +Then very slowly she raised her head and looked at him. He stooped to +kiss her lips, and felt her face flush and glow when he touched it. Then +she drew her hands from his and fled down the church to her mother. + +Hyacinth stood agape with wonder at the words which he had spoken. The +knowledge of his love had come on him like a sudden gust, and he only +half realized what he had done. He walked back to his lodgings, going +over and over the amazing words, recalling with flushed astonishment the +kiss. Then a chilling doubt beset him suddenly. Did Marion know how poor +he was? Never in his life had the fear of poverty or the desire of +gain determined Hyacinth’s plans. He knew very well that no such +considerations would have in any way affected his conduct towards +Marion. Once he realized that he loved her, the confession of his +love was quite inevitable. Yet he felt vaguely that he might be judged +blameworthy. He had read a few novels, and he knew that even the writers +whose chief business it is to glorify the passion of love do not dare to +represent it as independent of money. He knew, too, that many penniless +heroes won admiration--he did not in the least understand why they +should--by silently deserting affectionate women. He knew that kisses +were immoral except for those who possessed a modest competence. These +authorized ethics of marriage engagements were wholly incomprehensible +to him, and it in no way disquieted his conscience that he had bound +Marion to him with his kiss; yet he felt that she had a right to know +what income he hoped to earn, and what kind of home he would have to +offer her. A hundred pounds a year might be deemed insufficient, and +he knew that, not being either a raven or a lily, he could not count on +finding food and clothes ready when he wanted them. + +The daughters of the Irish Church clergy, even of the dignitaries, are +not brought up in luxury. Still, they are most of them accustomed to a +daily supply of food--plain, perhaps, but sufficient--and will look for +as much in the homes of their husbands. A girl like Marion Beecher does +not expect to secure a position which will enable her to send her own +clothes to a laundress or hire a cook who can make pastry; but it is not +fair to ask her to wash the family’s blankets or to boil potatoes for a +pig. Probably her friends would think her lucky in marrying a curate or +a dispensary doctor with one hundred and fifty pounds a year, and +the prospect of one-third as much again after a while. But Hyacinth +remembered that he was poorer than any curate. He determined to put the +matter plainly before Marion without delay. + +The Rectory door was opened for him by Elsie Beecher, and, in spite of +her wondering protests, Hyacinth walked into the dining-room and asked +that Marion should be sent to him. The room was empty, as he expected. +He stood and waited for her, deriving faint comfort and courage from the +threadbare carpet, patched tablecloth, and poor crazy chairs. They were +strange properties for a scene with possibilities of deep romance in it, +but they made his confession of poverty easier. + +Marion entered at last and stood beside him. He neither took her hand +nor looked at her. + +‘When I told you to-day that I loved you,’ he said, ‘I ought to have +told you that I am very poor.’ + +‘I know it,’ she said. + +‘But I am poorer even than you know. I am not in Mr. Quinn’s employment +any more. I have no settled income, and only a prospect of earning a +very small one.’ He paused. ‘I shall have to go away from Ballymoy. I +must live in Dublin. I do not think it is fair to ask you to marry me. I +shall have no more to live upon than----’ + +She moved a step nearer to him and laid her hand on his arm. + +‘Look at me,’ she said. + +He raised his eyes to her face, and saw again there, as he had seen in +church, the wonderful shining of love, which is stronger than all things +and holds poverty and hardship cheap. + +‘Keep looking at me still,’ she said. ‘Now tell me: Do you really think +it matters that you are poor? Do you think I care whether you have much +or little? Tell me.’ + +He could not answer her, although he knew that there was only one answer +to her question. + +‘Do you think that I love money? Do you doubt that I love you?’ + +Her voice sunk almost to a whisper as she spoke, and her eyes fell from +looking into his. Just as when he kissed her in the church, she flushed +suddenly, but this time she did not try to escape from him. Instead she +clung to his arm, and hid her face against his shoulder. He put his arms +round her and held her close. + +‘I know,’ he said. ‘I was a fool to come here thinking that my being +poor would matter. I might have known. Indeed, I think I did know even +before I spoke to you.’ + +She had no answer except a long soft laugh, which was half smothered in +his arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +On Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons Canon Beecher enjoyed the +privilege of a fire in his study. He was supposed to be engaged at these +seasons in the preparation of his sermons, a serious and exacting work +which demanded solitude and profound quiet. In earlier years he really +had prepared his sermons painfully, but long practice brings to the +preacher a certain fatal facility. Old ideas are not improved by being +clothed in new phrases, and of new ideas--a new idea will occasionally +obtrude itself even on the Christian preacher--the Canon was exceedingly +mistrustful. The study was an unexciting and comparatively comfortable +room. The firelight on winter afternoons played pleasantly on the +dim gold backs of the works of St. Augustine, a fine folio edition +bequeathed to Mrs. Beecher by a scholarly uncle, which reposed +undisturbed along a lower shelf. Adventurous rays occasionally explored +a faded print of the Good Shepherd which hung above the books, and +gleamed upon the handle of the safe where the parish registers and +church plate were stored. The quiet and the process of digesting his +mid-day dinner frequently tempted the Canon to indulge in a series of +pleasant naps on Sunday afternoons. + +When Hyacinth tapped at the study door and entered, the room was almost +dark, and the sermon preparation, if proceeding at all, can have got no +further than the preliminary concatenation of ideas. The Canon, however, +was aggressively, perhaps suspiciously, wide awake. + +‘Who is that?’ he asked. ‘Oh, Conneally, it is you. I am very glad to +see you. Curiously enough, I thought of going down to call on you this +afternoon. I wanted to have a talk with you. I dare say you have come up +to consult me.’ + +Hyacinth was astonished. How could anyone have guessed what he came +about? Had Marion told her father already? + +‘It is a sad business,’ the Canon went on--’ very distressing and +perplexing indeed. But so far as you personally are concerned, +Conneally, I cannot regard it as an unmixed misfortune. You were meant +for something better, if I may say so, than selling blankets. Now, I +have a plan for your future, which I talked over last week with an old +friend of yours. Now that something has been settled about the Quinns, +we must all give our minds to your affairs.’ + +Then Hyacinth understood that Canon Beecher expected to be consulted +about his future plans, and even had some scheme of his own in mind. + +‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I shall be very glad of your help and advice, +although I think I have decided about what I am going to do. It was +not on that subject I came to speak to you to-day, but on another, more +important, I think, for you and for me and for Marion.’ + +‘For Marion?’ + +‘I ought to tell you at once that I love your daughter Marion, and I am +sure that she loves me. I want to marry her.’ + +‘My dear boy! I had not the slightest idea of this. It is one of the +most extraordinary things--or perhaps extraordinary is not exactly the +proper word--one of the most surprising things I----’ + +The Canon stopped abruptly and sat stroking his chin with his forefinger +in the effort to adjust his mind to the new situation presented to it. +It was characteristic of the man that the thought of Hyacinth’s poverty +was not the first which presented itself. Indeed, Canon Beecher was one +of those unreasonable Christians who are actually convinced of the truth +of certain paradoxical sayings in the Gospel about wealth and poverty. +He believed that there were things of more importance in life than the +possession of money. Fortunately, such Christians are rare, for their +absurd creed forms a standing menace to the existence of Church and +sect alike. Fortunately also, ecclesiastical authorities have sufficient +wisdom to keep these eccentrics in the background, confining them as far +as possible to remote and obscure places. If ever a few of them escape +into the open and find means of expressing themselves, the whole +machinery of modern religion will become dislocated, and the Church will +very likely relapse into the barbarity of the Apostolic age. + +‘I believe, Conneally,’ said the Canon at last, ‘that you are a good +man. I do not merely mean that you are moral and upright, but that you +sincerely desire to follow in the footsteps of the Master.’ + +He looked as if he wanted some kind of answer, at least a confirmation +of his belief. Fresh from his interview with Marion, and having the +Canon’s eyes upon him, it did not seem impossible to Hyacinth to answer +yes. Even the thought of the work he was to engage in with Miss Goold +and Patrick O’Dwyer seemed to offer no ground for hesitation. Was he +not enlisting with them to take part in the great battle? He had +never ceased to believe his father’s words: ‘And the battlefield is +Ireland--our dear Ireland which we love!’ He felt for the moment that +he was altogether prepared to make the confession of faith the Canon +required. + +‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am on His side.’ + +‘And you love Marion? Are you quite sure of that? Are you certain that +this is not a passing fancy?’ + +This time Hyacinth had no doubt whatever about his answer. + +‘I am as certain of my love as I am of anything in the world.’ + +‘I am glad. I am very glad that this has happened--for your sake, +because I have always liked you; also for Marion’s sake. I shall see you +happy because you love one another, and because you both love the Lord. +I ask no more than those two things. But I must go and tell my wife at +once. She will be glad, too.’ + +He rose and went to the door. With his hand stretched out to open it he +stopped, struck by a sudden thought. + +‘By the way, I ought to ask you--if you mean to be married--have you +any--I mean it is necessary--I hope you won’t think I am laying undue +stress upon such matters, but I really--I mean we really ought to +consider what you are to live upon.’ + +It was the prospect of imparting the news to his wife which forced this +speech from him. Mrs. Beecher was, indeed, the least worldly of women. +Did she not marry the Canon, then a mere curate, on the slenderest +income, and bear him successively five babies in defiance of common +prudence? But it had fallen to her lot to order the affairs of the +household, and she had learnt that the people who give you bread and +beef demand, after an interval, more or less money in exchange. It was +likely that, after her first rapture had subsided, she would make some +inquiry about Hyacinth’s income and prospects. The Canon felt he ought +to be prepared. + +‘Of course, I have lost my position with Mr. Quinn. You know that. But I +have an offer of work which I hope will lead on to something better, +and will enable me in a short time to earn enough money to marry on. +You know--or perhaps you don’t, for I am afraid I never told you’--he +remembered that he had carefully concealed his connection with the +_Croppy_ from his friends at Ballymoy, and paused--‘I have done some +little writing. Oh, nothing very much--not a book, or anything like +that, only a few articles for the press. Well, a friend of mine has got +me the offer of a post in connection with a weekly paper. It is not a +very great thing in itself just now, but it may improve, and there is +always the prospect of picking up other work of the same kind.’ + +The Canon, who had never seen even an abstract of one of his own sermons +in print, had a proper reverence for the men who guide the world’s +thought through the press. + +‘That is very good, Conneally--very satisfactory indeed. I always knew +you had brains. But why did you never tell me what you were doing? I +should have been deeply interested in anything you wrote.’ + +Hyacinth’s conscience smote him. + +‘The truth is, that I was sure you wouldn’t approve of the paper I +wrote for. It is the _Croppy_, the organ of the extreme left wing of the +Nationalist party. It is Miss Goold--Augusta Goold--who now offers me +work on that paper. She says---- But you had better read what she says +for yourself. Then you will know the worst of it.’ + +He took the letter from his pocket. The Canon lit a candle and read it +through slowly and attentively. When he had finished he laid it upon the +table and sat down. Hyacinth waited in extreme anxiety for what was to +come. + +‘I do not like the cause you mean to work for or the people you call +your friends. I would rather see my daughter’s husband doing almost +anything else in the world. I would be happier if you proposed to break +stones upon the roadside. You know what my political opinions are. +I regard the _Croppy_ as a disloyal and seditious paper, bent upon +fostering a dangerous spirit.’ + +Hyacinth listened patiently. He had steeled himself against the hearing +of some such words, and was determined not to be moved to argument or +self-defence except as a last resort. + +‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will at least give me credit for honestly +acting in accordance with my convictions.’ + +‘I am sure--quite sure--that you are honest, and believe that your cause +is the right one. I recognise, too, though this is a very difficult +thing to do, that you have every right to form and hold your own +political opinions. It seems to me that they are very wrong and very +mischievous, but it is quite possible that I am mistaken and prejudiced. +In any case, I am not called upon to refuse you my affection or to +separate you from my daughter because we differ about politics.’ + +Hyacinth breathed a great sigh of relief. He looked at the Canon in +wonder and admiration. It had been beyond hope that a man grown gray in +a narrow faith, a faith in which for centuries religion and politics had +been inextricably blended, could have risen in one clear flight above +the mire of prejudice. It seemed, even after he had spoken, impossible +that in Ireland, where political opponents believe each other to be +thieves and murderers, there could be found even one man, and he from +the least emancipated class of all, who could understand and practise +tolerance. + +‘I say,’ went on the Canon, speaking very slowly, and with evident +difficulty, ‘that I have no right to put you away from me because of +your political opinions. But there is something here ‘--he touched Miss +Goold’s letter--’ from which I must by all means try to save you. +Will you let me speak to you, not as Marion’s father, not even as your +friend, but as Christ’s ambassador set here to watch for your soul? But +I need not excuse myself for what I am about to say. You will at least +listen to me patiently.’ + +He took up Miss Goold’s letter and searched through it for a short time; +then he read aloud: + +‘“He just asked one question about you: Does Mr. Conneally hate England +and the Empire and everything English, from the Parliament to the police +barrack? For it is this hatred which must animate our work. I said +I thought you did.” Now consider what those words mean. You are to +dedicate your powers, the talents God has given you, to preaching +a gospel of hate. This is not a question of politics. I am ready +to believe that in the contest of which our unhappy country is the +battle-ground a man may be either on your side or mine, and yet be +a follower of Christ. It is impossible to think that anyone can +deliberately, with his eyes open, accept hatred for the inspiration of +his life and still be true to Him.’ + +Hyacinth was greatly moved by the solemnity with which the Canon spoke. +There was that in him which witnessed to the truth of what he heard. Yet +he refused to be convinced. When he spoke it was clear that he was not +addressing his companion, for his eyes were fixed upon the picture of +the Good Shepherd, faintly illuminated by the candle light. He desired +to order his own thought on the dilemma, to justify, if he could, his +own position to himself. ‘It is true that the Gospel of Christ is a +Gospel of love. Yet there are circumstances in which it is wrong to +follow it. Is it possible to rouse our people out of their sordid +apathy, to save Ireland for a place among the nations, except by +preaching a mighty indignation against the tyranny which has crushed us +to the dust?’ + +He felt that Canon Beecher’s eyes never left him for a moment while he +spoke. He looked up, and saw in them an intense pleading. There +stole over him a desire to yield, to submit himself to this appealing +tenderness. He defended himself desperately against his weakness. + +‘I am not choosing the pleasanter way. It would be easier for me to give +up the fight for Ireland, to desert the beaten side, to forget the lost +cause.’ He turned to Canon Beecher, speaking almost fiercely: ‘Do you +think it is a small thing for me to surrender your friendship, and +perhaps--perhaps to lose Marion? Is there not _some_ of the nobility of +sacrifice in refusing to listen to you?’ + +‘I cannot argue with you. No doubt you are cleverer than I am. But I +_know_ this--God is love, and only he who dwelleth in love dwelleth in +God.’ + +‘But I do love: I love Ireland.’ + +‘Ah yes; but He says, “Love your enemies.”’ + +‘Then,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I will not have Him for my God.’ + +Hardly had he spoken than he started and grew suddenly cold. It was no +doubt some trick of memory, but he believed that he heard very faintly +from far off a remembered voice: + +‘Will you be sure to know the good side from the bad, the Captain from +the enemy.’ + +They were the last words his father had said to him. They had passed +unregarded when they were spoken, but lingered unthought of in some +recess of his memory. Now they came on him full of meaning, insistent +for an answer. + +‘You have chosen,’ said the Canon. + +He had chosen. Could he be sure that he had chosen right, that he knew +the good side from the bad? + +‘You have chosen, and I have no more to say. Only, before it becomes +impossible for you and me to kneel together, I ask you to let me pray +with you once more. You can do this because you still believe He hears +us, although you have decided to walk no more with Him.’ + +They knelt together, and Hyacinth, numbly indifferent, felt his hand +grasped and held. + +‘O Christ,’ said Canon Beecher, ‘this child of Thine has chosen to live +by hatred rather than by love. Do Thou therefore remove love from him, +lest it prove a hindrance to him on the way on which he goes. Let the +memory of the cross be blotted out from his mind, so that he may do +successfully that which he desires.’ + +Hyacinth wrenched his hand free from the grasp which held it, and flung +himself forward across the table at which they knelt. Except for his +sobs and his choking efforts to subdue them, there was silence in the +room. Canon Beecher rose from his knees and stood watching him, his lips +moving with unspoken supplication. At last Hyacinth also rose and stood, +calm suddenly. + +‘You have conquered me,’ he said. + +‘My son, my son, this is joy indeed! All along I knew He could not fail +you. But I have not conquered you. The Lord Jesus has saved you.’ + +‘I do not know,’ said Hyacinth slowly, ‘whether I have been saved or +lost. I am not sure even now that I know the good side from the bad. +But I do know that I cannot live without the hope of being loved by Him. +Whether it is the better part to which I resign myself I cannot tell. +No doubt He knows. As for me, if I have been forced to make a great +betrayal, if I am to live hereafter very basely--and I think I am--at +least I have not cut myself off from the opportunity of loving Him.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +Canon Beecher took no notice of Hyacinth’s last speech. He had returned +with amazing swiftness and ease from the region of high emotion to the +commonplace. Excursions to the shining peaks of mystical experience are +for most men so rare that the glory leaves them with dazzled eyes, and +they walk stumblingly for a while along the dull roads of the world. +But Canon Beecher, in the course of his pleading with Hyacinth, had been +only in places very well known to him. The presence chamber of the King +was to him also the room of a familiar friend. It was no breathless +descent from the green hill of the cross to the thoroughfare of common +life. + +‘Now, my dear boy,’ he said, ‘we really must go and talk to my wife and +Marion. Besides, I must tell you the plan I have made for you--the plan +I was just going to speak about when you put it out of my head with the +news of your love-making.’ + +For Hyacinth a great effort was necessary before he could get back to +his normal state. His hands were trembling violently. His forehead and +hair were damp with sweat. His whole body was intensely cold. His mind +was confused, and he listened to what was said to him with only the +vaguest apprehension of its meaning. The Canon laid a firm hand upon +his arm, and led him away from the study. In the passage he stopped, and +asked Hyacinth to go back and blow out the candle which still burned on +the study table. + +‘And just put some turf on the fire,’ he added; ‘I don’t want it to go +out.’ + +The pause enabled Hyacinth to regain his self-command, and the +performance of the perfectly ordinary acts required of him helped to +bring him back again to common life. + +When they entered the drawing-room it was evident that Mrs. Beecher had +already heard the news, and was, in fact, discussing the matter eagerly +with Marion. She sprang up, and hastened across the room to meet them. + +‘I am so glad,’ she said--‘so delighted! I am sure you and Marion will +be happy together.’ + +She took Hyacinth’s hands in hers, and held them while she spoke, then +drew nearer to him and looked up in his face expectantly. A fearful +suspicion seized him that on an occasion of the kind she might consider +it right to kiss him. It was with the greatest difficulty that he +suppressed a wholly unreasonable impulse to laugh aloud. Apparently the +need of such affectionate stimulant was strong in Mrs. Beecher. When +Hyacinth hung back, she left him for her husband, put her arms round his +neck, and kissed him heartily on both cheeks. + +‘Isn’t it fortunate,’ she said, ‘that you saw Dr. Henry last week while +you were in Dublin? You little thought how important that talk with him +was going to turn out--I mean, of course, important for us. It always +was important for Mr.--I mean for Hyacinth.’ + +The Canon seemed a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat somewhat +unnecessarily, and then said: + +‘I haven’t mentioned that matter yet.’ + +‘Not mentioned Dr. Henry’s offer! Then, what have you been talking about +all this time?’ + +It did not seem necessary to tell Mrs. Beecher all that had been said, +or to repeat the scene in the study for her benefit. The Canon cleared +his throat again. + +‘I was in Dublin last week attending a meeting of the Scriptural Schools +Society, and I met Dr. Henry. We were talking about the Quinns. I told +you that Mr. Quinn is to be the new secretary of the society, didn’t I? +Dr. Henry knows Mr. Quinn slightly, and was greatly interested in him. +Your name naturally was mentioned. Dr. Henry seems to have taken a +warm interest in you when you were in college, and to have a very high +opinion of your abilities. He did not know what had become of you, and +was very pleased to hear that you were a friend of ours.’ + +Hyacinth knew at once what was coming--knew what Canon Beecher’s plan +for his future was, and why he was pleased with it; understood how Mrs. +Beecher came to describe this conversation with Dr. Henry as fortunate. +He waited for the rest of the recital, vaguely surprised at his own want +of feeling. + +‘I told him,’ the Canon went on, eying Hyacinth doubtfully, ‘that you +had lost your employment here. I hope you don’t object to my +having mentioned that. I am sure you wouldn’t if you had heard how +sympathetically he spoke of you. He assured me that he was most anxious +to help you in any way in his power. He just asked one question about +you.’ Hyacinth started. Where had he heard those identical words before? +Oh yes, they were in Miss Goold’s letter. Patrick O’Dwyer also had just +asked one question about him. He smiled faintly as the Canon went on: +‘“Is he fit, spiritually fit, to be ordained? For it is the desire to +serve God which must animate our work.” I said I thought you were. I +told him how you sang in our choir here, and how fond you seemed of our +quiet life, and what a good fellow you are. You see, I did not know then +that I was praising the man who is to be my son-in-law. He asked me to +remind you of a promise he had once made, and to say that he was ready +to fufil it. I understood him to mean that he would recommend you to any +Bishop you like for ordination.’ + +Hyacinth remained silent. He felt that in surrendering his work for the +_Croppy_ he surrendered also his right to make any choice. He was ready +to be shepherded into any position, like a sheep into a pen. And he +had no particular wish to resist. He saw a simple satisfaction in Mrs. +Beecher’s face and a beautiful joy in Marion’s eyes. It was impossible +for him to disappoint them. He smiled a response to Mrs. Beecher’s +kindly triumph. + +‘Isn’t that splendid! Now you and Marion will be able to be married +quite soon, and I do dislike long engagements. Of course, you will be +very poor at first, but no poorer than we were. And Marion is not afraid +of being poor--are you, dear?’ + +‘That is just what I have been saying to him,’ said Marion; ‘isn’t it, +Hyacinth? Of course I am not afraid. I have always said that if I ever +married I should like to marry a clergyman, and if one does that one is +sure to be poor.’ + +Evidently there was no doubt in either of their minds that Hyacinth +would accept Dr. Henry’s offer. Nor had he any doubt himself. The thing +seemed too inevitable to be anything but right. Only on Canon Beecher’s +face there lingered a shadow of uncertainty. Hyacinth saw it, and +relieved his mind at once. + +‘I shall write to Dr. Henry to-night and thank him. I shall ask him to +try and get me a curacy as soon as possible.’ + +‘Thank you,’ said the Canon. + +‘I think,’ added Hyacinth, ‘that I should prefer getting work in +England.’ + +‘Oh, why,’ said Mrs. Beecher. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay in Ireland! +and then we might have Marion somewhere within reach.’ + +‘My dear,’ said the Canon, ‘we must let Hyacinth decide for himself. I +am sure he knows what is wisest for him to do.’ + +Hyacinth was not at all sure that he knew what was wisest, and he was +quite certain that he had not decided for himself in any matter of the +slightest importance. He had suggested an English curacy in the vague +hope that it might be easier there to forget his hopes and dreams for +Ireland. It seemed to him, too, that a voluntary exile, of which he +could not think without pain, might be a kind of atonement for the +betrayal of his old enthusiasm. + +The Canon followed him to the door when he left. + +‘My dear boy’--there was a break in his voice as he spoke--’ my dear +boy, you have made me very happy. I am sure that you will not enter upon +the work of the ministry from any unworthy motive. The call will become +clearer to you by degrees. I mean the inward call. The outward call, the +leading of circumstance, has already made abundantly plain the way you +ought to walk in. The other will come--the voice which brings assurance +and peace when it speaks.’ + +Hyacinth looked at him wistfully. There seemed very little possibility +of anything like assurance for him, and only such peace as might be +gained by smothering the cries with which his heart assailed him. The +Canon held his hand and wrung it. + +‘I can understand why you want to go to England. Your political opinions +will interfere very little with your work there. Here, of course, it +would be different. Yes, your choice is certainly wise, for nothing +must be allowed to hinder your work. “Laying aside every weight,” you +remember, “let us run the race.” Yes, I understand.’ + +It was perfectly clear to Hyacinth that the Canon did not understand in +the least. It was not likely that anyone ever would understand. + +Gradually his despondency gave way before the crowding in of thoughts of +satisfaction. He was to have Marion, to live with her, to love her, and +be loved by her as long as they both lived. He saw life stretching out +before him, a sunlit, pleasant journey in Marion’s company. It did not +seem to him that any trouble could be really bad, any disappointment +intolerable, any toil oppressive with her love for an atmosphere round +him. He believed, too, that the work he was undertaking was a good work, +perhaps the highest and noblest kind of work there is to be done in the +world. From this conviction also came a glow of happiness. Yet there +kept recurring chill shudderings of self-reproach. Something within him +kept whispering that he had bartered his soul for happiness. + +‘I have chosen the easier and therefore the baser way,’ he said. ‘I have +shrunk from toil and pain. I have refused to make the sacrifice demanded +of me.’ + +He went back again to the story of his father’s vision. For a moment +it seemed quite clear that he had deliberately refused the call to the +great fight, that he had judged himself unworthy, being cowardly and +selfish in his heart. Then he remembered that the Captain of whom his +father had told him was no one else but Christ, the same Christ of whom +Canon Beecher spoke, the Good Shepherd whose love he had discovered to +be the greatest need of all. + +‘I must have Him,’ he said--‘I must have Him--and Marion.’ + +Again with the renewed decision came a glow of happiness and a sense of +rest, until there rose, as if to smite him, the thought of Ireland--of +Ireland, poor, derided of strangers, deserted by her sons, roped in as +a prize-ring where selfish men struggle ignobly for sordid gains. The +children of the land fled from it sick with despair. Its deserted houses +were full of all doleful things. Cormorants and the daughters of the owl +lodged in the lintels of them. + +Sullen desolation was on the threshold, while satyrs cried to their +fellows across tracts of brown rush-grown land. Aliens came to hiss and +passed by wagging their hands. Over all was the monotony of the gray +sky, descending and still descending with clouds that came upon the +land, mistily folding it in close embraces of death. Voices sounded far +off and unreal through the gloom. The final convulsive struggles of the +nation’s life grew feebler and fewer. Of all causes Ireland’s seemed the +most hopelessly lost. Was he, too, going to forsake her? He felt that in +spite of all the good promised him there would always hang over his life +a gloom that even Marion’s love would not disperse, the heavy shadow of +Ireland’s Calvary. For Marion there would be no such darkness, nor would +Marion understand it. But surely Christ understood. Words of His crowded +to the memory. ‘When He beheld the city He wept over it, saying, +Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem!’ Most certainly He understood this, as He +understood all human emotion. He, too, had yearned over a nation’s fall, +had felt the heartbreak of the patriot. + +‘I have chosen Him,’ he said at last. ‘Once having caught a glimpse of +Him, I could not do without Him. He understands it all, and He has given +me Marion.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +It was a brilliant July day, and the convent at Robeen was decked for a +festival. The occasion was a very great one. Cloth of gold hung in the +chapel, the entrance-hall was splendid with flowers, and the whole +white front of the buildings had put on signs of holiday. Indeed, +this festival was unique, the very greatest day in the history of the +sisterhood. Easter, Christmas, and the saints’ days recurred annually +in their proper order, and the emotions they brought with them were no +doubt familiar to holy ladies whose business it was to live in close +touch with the other world. But on this day the great of the earth, +beings much more unapproachable, as a rule, than the saints, were to +visit the convent. Honour was to be paid to ladies whose magnificence +was guaranteed by worldly titles; to the Proconsuls of the far-off +Imperial power, holders of the purse-strings of the richest nation +upon earth; to Judges accustomed to sit in splendid robes and awful +head-dresses, pronouncing the doom of malefactors; to a member of the +Cabinet, a very mighty man, though untitled; and quite possibly--a +glittering hope--to the Lord Lieutenant himself. + +It was therefore no wonder that the nuns had decked their convent +with all possible splendour. On each side of the iron gateway was a +flag-post. From the top of one fluttered the green banner of Ireland, +with its gold harp and a great crown over it. From the other hung +the Union Jack, emblem of that marriage of nationalities for whose +consummation eight centuries have not sufficed. It was hoisted upside +down--not with intentional disrespect, but because Sister Gertrude, who +superintended this part of the decorations, had long ago renounced the +world, and did not remember that the tangled crosses had a top or a +bottom to them. Between the posts hung a festoon of signalling flags, +long pointed strips of bunting with red balls or blue on them. The +central streamer just tipped as it fluttered the top of the iron cross +which marked the religious nature of the gateway. The straight gravel +walk inside was covered with red baize, and on each side of it were +planted tapering poles, round which crimson and white muslin circled +in alternate stripes, giving them the appearance of huge old-fashioned +sugar-sticks. These added to the gaiety of the scene, though it cannot +be supposed that they were of any actual use. The most bewildered +visitor was hardly likely to stray off the red baize or miss his way to +the door in front of him. Within the great entrance-hall were palms and +flowering shrubs in pots or tubs. The mosaic flooring, imported from +Italy, and a source of pride to all the Sisters, shone with much washing +and polishing. The Madonna with the blue eyes and the golden crown, +before which even Bishops crossed themselves, was less in evidence than +usual, for the expected guests were mostly heretics. She stood retired +behind the flower-pots, and veiled her benignity with the leaves of +palms. + +Right and left of the hall stretched corridors, whose shining parquet +invited the curious to explore the working-rooms and eating-rooms which +lay beyond. The door of the chapel stood open, and offered a vision +of simpering angels crowding the canvas of the altar-piece, a +justly-admired specimen of German religious art. Before it, dimly +seen, two nuns knelt, types of conventual piety, absorbed in spiritual +contemplation amid the tumult of the world’s invasion of their +sanctuary. Another door led to the garden. Here a fountain played into a +great stone basin, and neat gravel walks intersected each other at sharp +angles among flower-beds. The grass which lay around the maze of paths +was sacred as a rule, even from the list slippers of the nuns, but +to-day booths stood on it like stalls at a charity bazaar, hung with +tweeds, blankets, and stockings. A tall Calvary lowered incongruously +over one. An inferior Madonna, deposed from her old station in the +entrance-hall, presided in a weather-beaten blue robe over another. + +Beyond the garden, blocked off from it by a white wall, lay the factory +itself, the magnet which was drawing the great of the earth to the +nunnery. Here were the workers, all of them bright young women, smiling +pleasantly and well washed for the occasion. They were dressed in neat +violet petticoats and white blouses, with shawls thrown back from their +heads, a glorified presentment of the Mayo woman’s working dress. Here +and there, a touch of realism creditable to the Reverend Mother’s talent +for stage management, one sat in bare feet--not, of course, dust or mud +stained, as bare feet are apt to be in Connaught, but clean. The careful +observer of detail might have been led to suppose that the Sisters +improved upon the practice of the Holy Father himself, and daily washed +the feet of the poor. + +Everywhere fresh-complexioned, gentle-faced nuns flitted silently about. +The brass crosses pendent over their breasts relieved with a single +glitter the sombre folds of their robes. Snowy coifs, which had cost the +industrial schoolgirls of a sister house hours of labour and many tears, +shone, glazed and unwrinkled, round their heads. Even the youngest of +them had acquired the difficult art of walking gracefully with her hands +folded in front of her. + +At about two o’clock the visitors began to arrive, although the train +from Dublin which was to bring the very elect was not due for another +half-hour. Lady Geoghegan, grown pleasantly stout and cheerfully +benignant, came by a local train, and rejoiced the eyes of beholders +with a dress made of one of the convent tweeds. Sir Gerald followed +her, awkward and unwilling. He had been dragged with difficulty from his +books and the society of his children, and was doubtful whether a cigar +in a nunnery garden might not be counted sacrilege. With them was +a wonderful person--an English priest: it was thus he described +himself--whom Lady Geoghegan had met in Yorkshire. His charming manners +and good Church principles had won her favour and earned him the holiday +he was enjoying at Clogher House. He was arrayed in a pair of gray +trousers, a white shirt, and a blazer with the arms of Brazenose College +embroidered on the pocket, his sacerdotal character being marked only +by his collar. He leaped gaily from the car which brought them from the +station, and, as he assisted his hostess to alight, amazed the little +crowd around the gate by chaffing the driver in an entirely unknown +tongue. The good man had an ear for music, and plumed himself on his +ability to pick up any dialect he heard--Scotch, Yorkshire, or Irish +brogue. The driver was bewildered, but smiled pleasantly. He realized +that the gentleman was a foreigner, and since the meaning of his speech +was not clear, it was quite likely that he might be hazy about the value +of money and the rates of car hire. + +The Duchess of Drummin came in her landau. Like Lady Geoghegan, she +marked the national and industrial nature of the occasion in her attire. +At much personal inconvenience, for the day was warm, she wore a long +cloak of rich brown tweed, adorned with rows of large leather-covered +buttons. Lady Josephine Maguire fluttered after her. She had bidden +her maid disguise a dress, neither Irish nor homespun, with as much +Carrickmacross lace as could be attached to it. Lord Eustace, who +represented his father, appeared in all the glory of a silk hat and a +frock-coat. He eyed Sir Gerald’s baggy trousers and shabby wideawake +with contempt, and turned away his eyes from beholding the vanity of +obviously bad form when he came face to face with the English priest in +his blazer. + +A smiling nun took charge of each party as it arrived. Lady Geoghegan +plied hers with questions, and received a series of quite uninforming +answers. Her husband followed her, bent principally upon escaping +from the precincts if he could. Already he was bored, and he knew that +speeches from great men were in store for him if he were forced to +linger. The Duchess of Drummin eyed each object presented to her notice +gravely through long-handled glasses, but gave her attendant nun very +little conversational help. Lady Josephine made every effort to be +intelligent, and inquired in a dormitory where the looking-glasses +were. She was amazed to hear that the nuns did, or failed to do, their +hair--the head-dresses concealed the result of their efforts--without +mirrors. Lord Eustace was preoccupied. Amid his unaccustomed +surroundings he walked uncertain whether to keep his hat on his head +or hold it in his hands. The English priest, whose name was Austin, got +detached from Lady Geoghegan, and picked up a stray nun for himself. She +took him, by his own request, straight to the chapel. He crossed himself +with elaborate care on entering, and knelt for a moment before the +altar. The nun was delighted. + +‘So you, too, are a Catholic?’ + +‘Certainly,’ he replied briskly--‘an English Catholic.’ + +‘Ah! many of our priests go to England. Perhaps you have met Father +O’Connell. He is on a London mission.’ + +‘No,’ said Mr. Austin, ‘I do not happen to have met him. My church is in +Yorkshire.’ + +The nun gazed at him in amazement. + +‘Your church! Then you are---- + +‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am a priest.’ + +Her eyes slowly travelled over him. They began at the gray trousers, +passed to the blazer, resting a moment on the college arms, which +certainly suggested the ecclesiastical, and remained fixed on his +collar. After all, why should she, a humble nun, doubt his word when he +said he was a priest? Perhaps he might belong to some order of which +she had never heard. Eccentricities of costume might be forced on the +English clergy by Protestant intolerance. She smothered her uncertainty, +and took him at his word. They went together into the garden. Mr. Austin +took off his hat before the tarnished Madonna, and crossed himself +again. The nun’s doubts vanished. + +‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to buy some of this tweed. Is it +for sale?’ + +‘Oh, certainly. Sister Aloysia will sell it to you. We are so glad, so +very glad, when anyone will buy what our poor workers make. It is all a +help to the good cause.’ + +‘Now this,’ said Mr. Austin, fingering a bright-green cloth, ‘would make +a nice lady’s dress. Don’t you think so?’ + +The nun cast down her eyes. + +‘I do not know, Father, about dresses. Sister Aloysia, the Reverend +Father wants to buy tweed to make a dress for ‘--she hesitated; perhaps +it was his niece, but he looked young to have a full-grown niece--‘for +his sister.’ + +Sister Aloysia looked round her, puzzled. She saw no Reverend Father. + +‘This,’ said the other, ‘is Father--Father----’ + +‘Austin,’ he helped her out. + +‘Father Austin,’ added the nun. + +‘And you wish,’ said Sister Aloysia, ‘to buy a dress for your sister?’ + +‘Not for my sister,’ said Mr. Austin--‘for my wife.’ + +Both nuns started back as if he had tried to strike them. + +‘Your wife! Your wife! Then you are a Protestant.’ + +‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘I detest all Protestants. I am a Catholic--an +Anglo-Catholic.’ + +Neither of the nuns had ever heard of an Anglo-Catholic before. +What manner of religion such people might profess was doubtful and +unimportant. One thing was clear--this was not a priest in any sense of +the word which they could recognise. They distrusted him, as a wolf, +not certainly in the clothing, but using the language, of a sheep. The +situation became embarrassing. Mr. Austin prepared to bow himself away. + +‘I think,’ he said, ‘I shall ask Lady Geoghegan’--he rolled the title +out emphatically; it formed a salve to his wounded dignity--‘I shall ask +Lady Geoghegan to purchase the tweed for me. I must be on the look-out +for a friend who promised to meet me here this afternoon--a young man +whom I contemplate engaging as my curate. I am most particular in the +choice of a curate, and should, of course, prefer a public school +and ‘Varsity man. I need scarcely say that I refer only to Oxford and +Cambridge as the Universities. As a rule, I do not care for Irishmen, +but on the recommendation of my friend Dr. Henry, I am willing to +consider this Mr. Conneally.’ + +It seemed to Mr. Austin that a preference for the English Universities, +the friendship of a distinguished professor, a contempt for the mere +Irishman, and a titled hostess ought to restore the respect he had +forfeited by the mention of his wife. Curiously enough, and this shows +the disadvantage of a monastic seclusion from the world, the nuns +remained unimpressed. The conception of a married priest was too much +for them. As he walked away Mr. Austin heard Sister Aloysia murmur: + +‘How very indecent!’ + +Meanwhile, the train from Dublin had arrived, and Mr. Austin, when he +returned after his interview with Hyacinth, found that even the two nuns +he had victimized had forgotten him in the excitement of gazing at +more important visitors. Mr. Justice Saunders, a tall, stout man with a +florid face, made a tour of the factory under the charge of one of the +senior Sisters. He took little notice of what he was shown, being +mainly bent on explaining to his escort how he came to be known in legal +circles as ‘Satan Saunders.’ Afterwards he added a tale of how he had +once bluffed a crowd in an out-of-the-way country town into giving three +cheers for the Queen. + +‘You’re all loyal here,’ he said. ‘I saw the Union Jack flying over the +gate as I came in.’ + +The nun smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile, and the Judge, watching her, +was struck by her innocence and simplicity. + +‘Surely,’ she said, ‘the Church must always be loyal.’ + +‘Well, I’m not so sure of that. I’ve met a few firebrands of priests in +my time.’ + +‘Oh, those!’ she said with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘You must not think +of them. It will always be easy to keep them in order when the time +comes. They spring from the cabins. What can you expect of them? But the +Church---- Can the Church fail of respect for the Sovereign?’ + +Mr. Clifford and Mr. Davis followed Judge Saunders. They were members of +the Congested Districts Board, and it was clear from the manner of +the nun who escorted them that they were guests of very considerable +importance in her estimation. Mr. Clifford was an Englishman who had +been imported to assist in governing Ireland because he was married to +the sister of the Chief Secretary’s wife. He was otherwise qualified +for the task by possessing a fair knowledge of the points of a horse. He +believed that he knew Ireland and the Irish people thoroughly. + +His colleague, Mr. Davis, was a man of quite a different stamp. The +son of a Presbyterian farmer in County Tyrone, he had joined the Irish +Parliamentary party, and made himself particularly objectionable in +Westminster. He had devoted his talents to discovering and publishing +the principles upon which appointments to lucrative posts are made +by the officials in Dublin Castle. It was found convenient at last to +provide him with a salary and a seat on the Congested Districts Board. +Thus he found himself engaged in ameliorating the lot of the Connaught +peasants. Mr. Clifford used to describe him as ‘a bit of a bounder--in +fact, a complete outsider--but no fool.’ His estimate of Mr. Clifford +was perhaps less complimentary. + +‘Every business,’ he used to say, ‘must have at least one gentleman in +it to do the entertaining and the dining out. We have Mr. Clifford. He’s +a first-rate man at one of the Lord Lieutenant’s balls.’ + +A professor from Trinity College was one of the two guests conducted by +the Reverend Mother herself. Nominally this learned gentleman existed +for the purpose of impressing upon the world the beauties of Latin +poetry, but he was best known to fame as an orator on the platforms +of the Primrose League, and a writer of magazine articles on Irish +questions. He was a man who owed his success in life largely to his +faculty for always keeping beside the most important person present. The +Lord Lieutenant, being slightly indisposed, had been unable to make an +early start, so the most honourable stranger was Mr. Chesney, the Chief +Secretary. To him Professor Cairns attached himself, and received a +share of the Reverend Mother’s blandishments. + +Mr. Chesney himself was dapper and smiling as usual. Even the early +hour at which he had been obliged to leave home had neither ruffled his +temper nor withered the flower in his buttonhole. He spent his money +generously at the various stalls in the garden, addressed friendly +remarks to the women in the factory, and asked the questions with which +Mr. Davis had primed him in the train. + +Quite a crowd of minor people followed the great statesman. There were +barristers who hoped to become County Court Judges, and ladies who +enjoyed a novel kind of occasion for displaying their clothes, hoping to +see their names afterwards in the newspaper accounts of the proceedings. +There were a few foremen from leading Dublin shops, who foresaw the +possibility of a fashionable boom in Robeen tweeds and flannels. There +were also reporters from the Dublin papers, and a representative--Miss +O’Dwyer--of a syndicate which supplied ladies’ journals with accounts of +the clothes worn at fashionable functions. + +The supreme moment of the day arrived when the company assembled to +listen to words of wisdom from the orators selected to address them. +Seats had been provided by carting in forms from the neighbouring +national schools. A handsomely-carved chair of ecclesiastical design +awaited Mr. Chesney. + +He opened his speech by assuring his audience that there was no occasion +for him to address them at all, a truth which struck home to the heart +of Sir Gerald, who was trying to arrange himself comfortably at a desk +designed for a class of infants. + +‘Facts,’ Mr. Chesney explained himself, ‘are more eloquent than words. +You have seen what I could never have described to you--the contented +workers in this factory and the artistic designs of the fabrics they +weave. Many of you remember what Robeen was a few years ago--a howling +wilderness. We are told on high authority that even the wilderness shall +blossom as a rose.’ + +He bowed in the direction of the Reverend Mother, possibly with a +feeling that it was suitable to acknowledge her presence when quoting +Holy Writ, possibly with a vague idea that she might consider herself +a spiritual descendant of the Prophet Isaiah. ‘You see it now a hive of +happy industry.’ + +He observed with pleasure that the reporters were busy with their +note-books, and he knew that these editors of public utterance might be +relied on to unravel a tangled metaphor before publishing a speech. He +went on light-heartedly, confident that in the next day’s papers his +wilderness would blossom into something else, and that the hive, if +it appeared at all, would be arrived at by some other process than +blossoming. The habit of rolling out agreeable platitudes to audiences +forced to listen is one which grows on public men as dram-drinking does +on the common herd. Mr. Chesney was evidently enjoying himself, and +there seemed no reason why he should ever stop. He could, and perhaps +would, have gone on for hours but for the offensive way in which Judge +Saunders snapped the case of his watch at the end of every period. There +was really no hurry, for the special train which was to bring them back +to Dublin would certainly wait until they were ready for it. Mr. Chesney +felt aggrieved at the repeated interruption, and closed his speech +without giving the audience the benefit of his peroration. + +The Judge came next, and began with reminding his hearers that he +was known as ‘Satan Saunders.’ An account of the origin of the name +followed, and was enjoyed even by those who had listened to the Judge’s +oratory before, and therefore knew the story. There was something +piquant, almost _risqué_, in the constant repetition of a really wicked +word like ‘Satan’ in the halls of a nunnery. The audience laughed +reassuringly, and the Judge went on to supply fresh pabulum for mirth by +suggesting that the Reverend Mother should clothe her nuns in their own +tweeds. He was probably right in supposing that the new costumes would +add a gaiety to the religious life. Other jests followed, and he sat +down amid a flutter of applause after promising that when he next +presided over the Winter Assizes in a draughty court-house he would send +for a Robeen blanket and wrap his legs in it. + +Mr. Clifford, who followed the Judge, began by wondering whether anyone +present had ever been in Lancashire. After a pause, during which no one +owned to having crossed the Channel, he said that Lancashire was the +home of the modern factory. There every man and woman earned good wages, +wore excellent clothes, and lived in a house fitted with hot and cold +water taps and a gas-meter. It was his hope to see Mayo turned into +another Lancashire. When ladies of undoubted commercial ability, like +the Lady Abbess who presided over the Robeen convent--Lady Abbess +sounded well, and Mr. Clifford was not strong on ecclesiastical +titles--took the matter up, success was assured. All that was required +for the development of the factory system in Mayo was capital, and that +‘we, the Congested Districts Board, are in a position to supply.’ With +the help of some prompting from Mr. Davis, he proceeded to lay +before the audience a few figures purporting to explain the Board’s +expenditure. + +Professor Cairns was evidently anxious to follow Mr. Clifford, if only +in the humble capacity of the proposer of a vote of thanks. But his +name was not on the programme, and Mr. Chesney was already engaged in a +whispered conversation with the Reverend Mother. Ignoring the professor, +almost rudely, he announced that the company in general was invited to +tea in the dining-room. + +The refreshments provided, if not substantial, were admirable in +quality. There happened just then to be a young lady engaged, at the +expense of the County Council, in teaching cookery in a neighbouring +convent. She was sent over to Robeen for the occasion, and made a number +of delightful cakes at extremely small expense. The workers in the +factory had given the butter she required as a thank-offering, and the +necessary eggs came from another convent where the nuns, with financial +assistance from the Congested Districts Board, kept a poultry-farm. +The Reverend Mother dispensed her hospitality with the same air of +generosity with which Mr. Clifford had spoken of providing capital for +the future ecclesiastical factories. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +The Reverend Mother bowed out the last of her guests, and retired to +her own room well satisfied. She was assured of further support from +the Congested Districts Board, and certain debts which had grown +uncomfortably during her struggle with Mr. Quinn need trouble her no +longer. Her goods would be extensively advertised next morning in the +daily press. Her house would obtain a celebrity likely to attract +the most eligible novices--those, that is to say, who would bring the +largest sums of money as their dowries. There arose before her mind a +vision of almost unbounded wealth and all that might be done with it. +What statues of saints might not Italy supply! French painters and +German organ-builders would compete for the privilege of furnishing the +chapel of her house. Already she foresaw pavements of gorgeous mosaic, +windows radiant with Munich glass, and store of vestments to make +her sacristy famous. Grandiose plans suggested themselves of founding +daughter houses in Melbourne, in Auckland, in Capetown, in Natal. All +things were possible to a well-filled purse. She saw how her Order +might open schools in English towns, where girls could be taught French, +Italian, Latin, music, all the accomplishments dear to middle-class +parents, at ridiculously low fees, or without fees at all. She stirred +involuntarily at the splendour of her visions. The day’s weariness +dropped off from her. She rose from her chair and went into the chapel. +She prostrated herself before the altar, and lay passive in a glow of +warm emotion. For God, for the Mother of God, for the Catholic Church, +she had laboured and suffered and dared. Now she was well within sight +of the end, the golden reward, the fulfilment of hopes that had never +been altogether selfish. + +Her thoughts, sanctified now by the Presence on the altar, drifted out +again on to the shining sea of the future. What she, a humble nun, +had done others would do. A countless army of missionary men and women +marching from the Irish shore would conquer the world’s conquerors, +regain for the Church the Anglo-Saxon race. Once in the far past Irish +men and women had Christianized Europe, and Ireland had won her glorious +title, ‘Island of Saints.’ Now the great day was to dawn again, the +great race to be reborn. For this end had Ireland been kept faithful and +pure for centuries, just that she might be at last the witness to +the spiritual in a materialized world. For this end had the Church in +Ireland gone through the storm of persecution, suffered the blight of +the world’s contempt, that she might emerge in the end entirely fitted +for the bloodless warfare. + +‘And I am one of the race, a daughter of Ireland. And I am a +worker--nay, one who has accomplished something--in the vineyard of the +Church. Ah, God!’ + +She was swept forward on a wave of emotion. Thought ceased, expiring +in the ecstasy of a communion which transcended thought. Then suddenly, +sharp as an unexpected pain, an accusation shot across her soul, +shattering the coloured glory of the trance in an instant. + +‘Who am I that I should boast?’ + +The long years of introspection, the discipline of hundreds of +heart-searching confessions, the hardly-learned lesson of self-distrust, +made it possible for her to recognise the vain-glory even with the halo +of devotion shining round it. She abased herself in penitence. + +‘Give me the work, my Lord; give others the glory and the fruit of it. +Let me toil, but withhold the reward from me. May my eyes not see it, +lest I be lifted up! Nay, give me not even work to do, lest I should be +praised or learn to praise myself. “Nunc dimittis servam tuam, Domine, +secundum verbum tuum in pace.”’ + +There stole over her a sense of peace--numb, silent peace--wholly unlike +the satisfaction which had flooded her in her own room or during the +earlier ecstasy before the altar. She raised her eyes slowly till they +rested on the shrine where the body of the sacrifice reposed. + +‘Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum.’ + +At last she rose. The lines of care and age gathered again upon her +face. Her eyes gleamed with keen intelligence. She braced herself with +the thought of all that might still lie before her. The advice of Iago, +strangely sanctified, clamoured in her heart--‘Put money in thy purse.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The Reverend Mother was not the only person well satisfied with the +day. The Right Hon. T. J. Chesney leant back in his saloon-carriage, +and puffed contentedly at his cigar. It might be his part +occasionally--indeed, frequently--to talk like a fool, but the man was +shrewd enough. It really seemed that he had hit on the true method of +governing Ireland. Nationalist members of Parliament could be muzzled, +not by the foolish old methods of coercion, but by winning the goodwill +of the Bishops. No Irish member dared open his mouth when a priest +bid him keep it shut, or give a vote contrary to the wishes of the +hierarchy. And the Bishops were reasonable men. They looked at things +from a point of view intelligible to Englishmen. There was no ridiculous +sentimentality about their demands. For so much money they would silence +the clamour of the Parliamentary party; for so much more they would +preach a modified loyalty, would assert before the world that the Irish +people were faithful servants of the Sovereign; for a good lump sum down +they would undertake to play ‘God Save the King’ or ‘Rule, Britannia’ +on the organ at Maynooth. Of course, the money must be paid: Mr. Chesney +was beginning to understand that, and felt the drawback. It would have +been much pleasanter and simpler if the Bishops would have been content +with promises. There was a certain difficulty in obtaining the necessary +funds without announcing precisely what they were for. But, after all, +a man cannot be called a great statesman without doing something to +deserve the title, and British statesmanship is the art of hoodwinking +the taxpayer. That is all--not too difficult a task for a clever man. +Mr. Chesney reckoned on no power in Ireland likely to be seriously +troublesome. The upper classes were either helpless and sulking, or +helpless and smiling artificially. They might grumble in private or +try to make themselves popular by joining the chorus of the Church’s +flatterers. Either way their influence was inconsiderable. Was there +anyone else worth considering? The Orangemen were still a noisy faction, +but their organization appeared to be breaking up. They were more bent +on devouring their own leaders than interfering with him. There were a +number of people anxious to revive the Irish language, who at one time +had caused him some little uneasiness. He had found it quite impossible +to understand the Gaelic League, and, being an Englishman, arrived +gradually at the comfortable conclusion that what he could not +understand must be foolish. Now, he had great hopes that the Bishops +might capture the movement. + +If once it was safely under the patronage of the Church, he had +nothing more to fear from it. No doubt, resolutions would be passed, +but resolutions------ Mr. Chesney smiled. There were, of course, the +impossible people connected with the _Croppy_. Mr. Chesney did not like +them, and in the bottom of his heart was a little nervous about them. +They seemed to be very little afraid of the authority of the Church, +and he doubted if the authority of the state would frighten them at +all. Still, there were very few of them, and their abominable spirit of +independence was spreading slowly, if at all. + +‘They won’t,’ he said to himself, ‘be of any importance for some years +to come, at all events, and five years hence----’ + +In five years Mr. Chesney hoped to be Prime Minister, or perhaps to +have migrated to the House of Lords, At least, he expected to be out +of Ireland, Meanwhile, he lighted a fresh cigar. The condition of the +country was extremely satisfactory, and his policy was working out +better than he had hoped. + +The other travellers by the special train were equally well pleased, +Ireland, so they understood Mr. Chesney, was to be made happy and +contented, peaceful and prosperous. It followed that there must be +Boards under the control of Dublin Castle--more and more Boards, an +endless procession of them. There is no way devised by the wit of man +for securing prosperity and contentment except the creation of Boards. +If Boards, then necessarily officials--officials with salaries and +travelling allowances. Nice gentlemanly men, with villas at Dalkey and +Killiney, would perform duties not too arduous in connection with the +Boards, and carry out the benevolent policy of the Government. There +was not a man in the train, except the newspaper reporters, who did not +believe in the regeneration of Ireland by Boards, and everyone hoped to +take a share in the good work, with the prospect of a retiring pension +afterwards. + +The local magnates--with the exception of Sir Gerald Geoghegan, whose +temper had been bad from the first--also went home content. The minds of +great ladies work somewhat confusedly, for Providence, no doubt wisely, +has denied to most of them the faculty of reason. It was enough for them +to feel that the nuns were ‘sweet women,’ and that in some way not very +clear Mr. Chesney was getting the better of ‘those wretched agitators.’ + +Only one of all whom the special train had brought down failed to return +in it. Mary O’Dwyer slipped out of the convent before the speeches +began, and wandered away towards the desolate stony hill where the +stream which turns the factory mill took its rise. It grieved her to +miss the cup of tea which a friendly nun had led her to expect; but even +tea might be too dearly purchased, and Miss O’Dwyer had a strong dislike +to listening to what Augusta Goold described as the ‘sugared hypocrisies +of professional liars.’ Besides, she had her cigarette-case in her +pocket, and a smoke, unattainable for her in the convent or the train, +was much to be desired. She left the road at the foot of the hill, and +picked her way along the rough bohireen which led upwards along the +course of the stream. After awhile even this track disappeared. The +stream tumbled noisily over rocks and stones, the bog-stained water +glowing auburn-coloured in the sunlight. The ling and heather were +springy under her feet, and the air was sweet with the scent of the +bog-myrtle. She spied round her for a rock which cast a shade upon the +kind of heathery bed she had set her heart to find. Her eyes lit upon +a little party--a young man and two girls--encamped with a kettle, a +spirit-stove, and a store of bread-and-butter. Her renunciation of the +convent tea had not been made without a pang. She looked longingly at +the steam which already spouted from the kettle. The young man said +a few words to the girls, then stood up, raised his hat to her, and +beckoned. She approached him, wondering. + +‘Surely it can’t be--I really believe it is----’ + +‘Yes, Miss O’Dwyer, it really is myself, Hyacinth Conneally.’ + +‘My dear boy, you are the last person I expected to meet, though of +course I knew you were somewhere down in these parts.’ + +‘Come and have some tea,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And let me introduce you to +Miss Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher.’ + +Miss O’Dwyer took stock of the two girls. ‘They make their own clothes,’ +she thought, ‘and apparently only see last year’s fashion-plates. The +eldest isn’t bad-looking. How is it all West of Ireland girls have such +glorious complexions? Her figure wouldn’t be bad if her mother bought +her a decent pair of stays. I wonder who they are, and what they are +doing here with Hyacinth. They can’t be his sisters.’ + +While they drank their tea certain glances and smiles gave her an +inkling of the truth. ‘I suppose Hyacinth is engaged to the elder one,’ +she concluded. ‘That kind of girl wouldn’t dare to make eyes at a man +unless she had some kind of right to him.’ + +After tea she produced her cigarette-case. + +‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said to Marion. ‘I know it’s very shocking, +but I’ve had a tiring day and an excellent tea, and oh, this heather is +delicious to lie on!’ She stretched herself at full length as she spoke. +‘I really must smoke, just to arrive at perfect felicity for once in my +life. How happy you people ought to be who always have in a place like +this!’ + +‘Oh,’ said Marion, ‘it sometimes rains, you know.’ + +‘Ah! and then these sweet spots get boggy, I suppose, and you have to +wear thick, clumping boots.’ + +Her own were very neat and small, and she knew that they must obtrude +themselves on the eye while she lay prone. Elsie, whose shoes were +patched as well as thick-soled, made an ineffectual attempt to cover +them with her skirt. + +‘Now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘tell us what you are doing down here. They +haven’t made you an inspectress of boarded-out workhouse children, have +they? or sent you down to improve the breed of hens?’ + +‘No,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I have spent the afternoon helping to govern +Ireland.’ + +Marion and Elsie gazed at her in wonder. A lady who smoked cigarettes +and bore the cares of State upon her shoulders was a novelty to them. + +‘I have sat in the seats of the mighty,’ she said; ‘I have breathed the +same air as Mr. Chesney and two members of the C.D.B. Think of that! +Moreover, I might, if I liked, have drunk tea with a Duchess.’ + +‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you were at the convent function, I suppose. I +wonder I didn’t see you.’ + +‘What on earth were _you_ doing there? I thought you hated the nuns and +all their ways.’ + +‘Go on about yourself,’ said Hyacinth. ‘You are not employed by the +Government to inspect infant industries, are you?’ + +‘Oh no; I was one of the representatives of the press. I have notes here +of all the beautiful clothes worn by the wives and daughters of the West +British aristocracy. Listen to this: “Lady Geoghegan was gowned in an +important creation of saffron tweed, the product of the convent looms. +We are much mistaken if this fabric in just this shade is not destined +to play a part in robing the _élégantes_ who will shed a lustre on our +house-parties during the autumn.” And this--you must just listen to +this.’ + +‘I won’t,’ said Hyacinth; ‘you can if you like, Marion. I’ll shut my +ears.’ + +‘Very well,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I’ll talk seriously. When are you +coming up to Dublin? You know my brother has taken over the editorship +of the _Croppy_. We are going to make it a great power in the country. +We are coming out with a policy which will sweep the old set of +political talkers out of existence, and clear the country of Mr. Chesney +and the likes of him.’ She waved her hand towards the convent. ‘Oh, it +is going to be great. It is great already. Why don’t you come and help +us?’ + +Hyacinth looked at her. She had half risen and leaned upon her elbow. +Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. There was no doubt about +the genuineness of her enthusiasm. The words of her poem, long since, he +supposed, blotted from his memory, suddenly returned to him: + + ‘O, desolate mother, O, Erin, + When shall the pulse of thy life which but flutters in Connacht + Throb through thy meadows and boglands and mountains and cities?’ + +Had it come at last, this revival of the nation’s vitality? Had it come +just too late for him to share it? + +‘I shall not help you,’ he said sadly; ‘I do not suppose that I ever +could have helped you much, but now I shall not even try.’ + +She looked at him quickly with a startled expression in her eyes. Then +she turned to Marion. + +‘Are you preventing him?’ she said. + +‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is not Marion. But I am going away--going to +England. I am going to be ordained, to become an English curate. Do you +understand? I came here to-day to see the man who is to be my Rector, +and to make final arrangements with him.’ + +‘Oh, Hyacinth!’ + +For some minutes she said no more. He saw in her face a wondering +sorrow, a pathetic submissiveness to an unexpected disappointment, like +the look in the face of a dog struck suddenly by the hand of a friend. +He felt that he could have borne her anger better. No doubt if he had +made his confession to Augusta Goold he would have been overwhelmed with +passionate wrath or withered by a superb contemptuous stare. Then he +could have worked himself to anger in return. But this! + +‘You will never speak to any of us again,’ she went on. You will be +ashamed even to read the _Croppy_. You will wear a long black coat and +gray gloves. You will learn to talk about the “Irish Problem” and the +inestimable advantages of belonging to a world-wide Empire, and about +the great heart of the English people. I see it all--all that will +happen to you. Your hair will get quite smooth and sleek. Then you will +become a Vicar of a parish. You will live in a beautiful house, with +Virginia creeper growing over it and plum-trees in the garden. You will +have a nice clean village for a parish, with old women who drop curtsies +to you, and men--such men! stupid as bullocks! I know it all. And you +will be ashamed to call yourself an Irishman. Oh, Hyacinth!’ + +Miss O’Dwyer’s catalogue of catastrophes was curiously mixed. Perhaps +the comedy in it tended to obscure the utter degradation of the ruin +she described. But the freakish incongruity of the speech did not strike +Hyacinth. He found in it only two notes--pity that such a fate awaited +him, and contempt for the man who submitted to it. + +‘I cannot help myself. Will you not make an effort to understand? I am +trying to do what is right.’ + +She shook her head. + +‘No,’ he said, ‘I know it is no use. You could not understand even if I +told you all I felt.’ + +Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. He heard her sob. Then she turned +without a word and left them. He stood watching her till she reached +the road and started on her walk to the railway-station. Then he took +Marion’s two hands in his, and held them fast. + +‘Will _you_ understand?’ he asked her. + +She looked up at him. Her face was all tenderness. Love shone on +him--trusting, unquestioning, adoring love, love that would be loyal to +the uttermost; but her eyes were full of a dumb wonder. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +One morning near the end of September the _Irish Times_ published a list +of Irish graduates ordained in England on the previous Sunday. Among +other names appeared: + +‘Hyacinth Conneally, B.A., T.C.D., deacon, by the Bishop of Ripon, for +the curacy of Kirby-Stowell.’ + +Shortly afterwards the _Croppy_ printed the following verses, signed +‘M.O’D.’: + + ‘EIRE TO H. C. + + ‘Bight across the low, flat curragh from the sea, + Drifting, driving sweeps the rain, + Where the bogborn, bent, brown rushes grow for me, + Barren grass instead of grain. + + ‘Out across the sad, soaked curragh towards the sea, + Striding, striving go the men, + With their spades and forks and barrows toil for me + That my corn may grow again + + ‘Ah! but safe from blast of wind and bitter sea, + You who loved me---Tusa féin-- + Live and feel and work for others, not for me, + Never coming back again. + + ‘Yes, while all across the curragh from the West + Drifts the sea-rain off the sea, + You have chosen. Have you chosen what is best + For yourself, O son, and me?’ + +Hyacinth read the verses, cut them out of the _Croppy_, and locked them +in the box in which he stored the few papers of interest he possessed. +The sorrowful judgment pronounced on his conduct affected him, but only +in a dull way, like an additional blow upon a limb already bruised to +numbness. He accepted his new duties and performed them without any +feeling of enthusiasm, and after a little while without any definite +hope of doing any good. He got no further in understanding the people he +had to deal with, and he was aware that even those of them who came most +frequently into contact with him regarded him as a stranger. A young +doctor whose wife took a fancy to Marion tried to make friends with him. +The result was unsatisfactory, owing to Hyacinth’s irresponsiveness. He +could not, without yawning piteously, spend an evening discussing the +performances of the local cricket club; nor did his conduct improve when +the two ladies suspended their talk and sacrificed an hour to playing +four-handed halma with their husbands. An unmarried solicitor, attracted +by Marion’s beauty and friendliness, adopted the habit of calling at +Hyacinth’s little house about nine or ten o’clock in the evening. He +was a man full of anecdote and simple mirth, and he often stayed, quite +happily, till midnight. Every week he brought an illustrated paper as +an offering to Marion, and recommended the short stories in it to +her notice. He often asked Hyacinth’s advice and help in solving the +conundrums set by the prize editor. He took a mild interest in politics, +and retailed gossip picked up at the Conservative Club. After a while he +gave up coming to the house. Hyacinth blamed himself for being cold and +unfriendly to the man. + +Mr. Austin treated Hyacinth with kindness and some consideration, much +as a wise master treats an upper servant. He was anxious that his curate +should perform many and complicated ceremonies in church, was seriously +intent on the wearing of correctly-coloured stoles, and ‘ran,’ as he +expressed it himself, a very large number of different organizations, of +each of which the objective appeared to be a tea-party in the parochial +hall. Hyacinth accepted his tuition, bowed low at the times when Mr. +Austin liked to bow, watched for the seasons when stoles bloomed white +and gold, changed to green, or faded down to violet. He tried to +make himself agreeable to the ‘united mothers’ and the rest when they +assembled for tea-drinking. Mr. Austin asserted that these were the +methods by which the English people were being taught the Catholic +faith. Hyacinth did not doubt it, nor did he permit himself to wonder +whether it was worth while teaching them. + +To Marion the new life was full of many delights. The surpliced +choir-boys gratified her aesthetic sense, and she entered herself as one +of a band of volunteers who scrubbed the chancel tiles and polished a +brass cross. She smiled, kissed, and petted Hyacinth out of the fits of +depression which came on him, managed his small income with wonderful +skill, and wrote immensely long letters home to Ballymoy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +It is very hard for a poor man to travel from one side of England to the +other side of Ireland, because railway companies, even when, to allure +the public, they advertise extraordinary excursions, charge a great +deal for their tickets. The journey becomes still more difficult of +accomplishment when the poor man is married. Then there are two tickets +to be bought, and very likely most of the money which might have bought +them has been spent securing the safe arrival of a baby--a third person +who in due time will also require a railway-ticket. This was Hyacinth’s +case. For two summers he had no holiday at all, and it was only by the +most fortunate of chances that he found himself during the third +summer in a position to go to Ballymoy. He sublet his house to a +freshly-arrived supervisor of Inland Revenue, who wanted six weeks +to look about for a suitable residence. With the nine pounds paid in +advance by this gentleman, Hyacinth and Marion, having with them their +baby, a perambulator, and much other luggage, set off for Ballymoy. + +The journey is not a very pleasant one, because it is made over the +lines of three English railway companies, whose trains refuse to connect +with each other at junctions, and because St. George’s Channel is +generally rough. The discomfort of third-class carriages is more acutely +felt when the Irish shore is reached, but the misery of having to feed +and tend a year-old child lasts the whole journey through. Therefore, +Marion arrived in Dublin dishevelled, weary, and, for all her natural +placidness, inclined to be cross. The steamer came to port at an hour +which left them just the faint hope of catching the earliest train to +Ballymoy. Disappointment followed the nervous strain of a rush across +Dublin. Two long hours intervened before the next train started, and the +people who keep the refreshment-room in Broadstone Station are not early +risers. Marion, without tea or courage, settled herself and the baby in +the draughty waiting-room. + +Hyacinth was also dishevelled, dirty, and tired, having borne his full +share of strife with the child’s worst moods. But the sight of Ireland +from the steamer’s deck filled him with a strange sense of exultation. +He wished to shout with gladness when the gray dome of the Custom House +rose to view, immense above the low blanket of mist. Even the incredibly +hideous iron grating of the railway viaduct set his pulse beating +joyfully. He drew deep breaths, inhaling various abominable smells +delightedly. The voices of the sleepy porters on the quay roused in him +a craving for the gentle slovenliness of Irish speech. He fussed and +hustled Marion beyond the limits of her endurance, pretending eagerness +to catch the early train, caring in reality not at all whether any train +were caught or missed, filled only with a kind of frenzy to keep moving +somehow further into Ireland. In the cab he gave utterance to ridiculous +pleasantries. He seized the child from Marion, and held him, wailing +piteously, half out of the window, that his eyes might rest on the great +gilt characters which adorn the offices of the Gaelic League. It was +with rapture that he read Irish names, written and spelt in Irish, above +the shops, and saw a banner proclaiming the annual festival of Irish +Ireland hanging over the door of the Rotunda. The city had grown more +Irish since he left it. There was no possibility now, even in the early +morning, with few people but scavengers and milkmen in the streets, of +mistaking for an English town. + +While Marion sat torpid in the waiting-room, he paced the platform +eagerly from end to end. He saw the train pushed slowly into position +beside the platform, watched porters sweep the accumulated débris of +yesterday’s traffic from the floors of the carriages, and rub with +filthy rags the brass doorhandles. Little groups of passengers began to +arrive--first a company of cattle-jobbers, four of them, red-faced men +with keen, crafty eyes, bound for some Western fair; then a laughing +party of tourists, women in short skirts and exaggeratedly protective +veils, men with fierce tweed knickerbockers dragging stuffed hold-alls +and yellow bags. These were evidently English. Their clear high-pitched +voices proclaimed contempt for their surroundings, and left no doubt of +their nationality. One of them addressed a bewildered porter in cheerful +song: + + ‘Are you right there, + Michael? are you right? + Have you got the parcel there for Mrs. White?’ + +He felt, and his companions sympathized, that he was entering into the +spirit of Irish life. Then, heralded by an obsequious guard, came a +great man, proconsular in mien and gait. Bags and rugs were wheeled +beside him. In his hand was a despatch-box bearing the tremendous +initials of the Local Government Board. He took complete possession of +a first-class smoking carriage, scribbled a telegram, perhaps of +international importance, handed it to the guard for instant despatch, +and lit a finely-odorous cigar. Hyacinth, humbled by the mere view of +this incarnation of the Imperial spirit, went meekly to the waiting-room +to fetch Marion and his child. He led them across the now crowded +platform towards a third-class carriage. + +‘I will not go with you in your first-class carriage, Father Lavelle; so +that’s flat. Nor I won’t split the difference and go second either, if +that’s what you’re going to propose to me. Is it spend what would keep +the family of a poor man in bread and tea for a week, for the sake of +easing my back with a cushion? Get away with you. The plain deal board’s +good enough for me. And, moreover, I doubt very much if I’ve the money +to do it, if I were ever so willing. I’m afraid to look into my purse to +count the few coppers that’s left in it after paying that murdering bill +in the hotel you took me to. Gresham, indeed! A place where they’re +not ashamed to charge a poor old priest three and sixpence for his +breakfast, and me not able to eat the half of what they put before me.’ + +Hyacinth turned quickly. Two priests stood together near the bookstall. +The one, a young man, handsome and well-dressed, he did not know. The +other he recognised at once. It seemed to be the same familiarly shabby +black coat which he wore, the same many-stained waistcoat, the identical +silk hat, ruffled and rain-spotted. The same pads of flesh hung flaccid +from his jaws; the red, cracked knuckles of his hands, well remembered, +were enormous still. Only the furrows on the face seemed to be ploughed +deeper and wider, and a few more stiff hairs curled over the general +bushiness of the grizzled eyebrows. + +‘Father Moran!’ cried Hyacinth. + +‘I am Father Moran. You’re right there. But who _you_ are or how you +come to know me is more than I can tell. But wait a minute. I’ve a sort +of recollection of your voice. Will you speak to me again, and maybe +I’ll be able to put a name on you.’ + +Hyacinth said a few words rapidly in Irish. + +‘I have you now,’ said the priest. ‘You’re Hyacinth Conneally, the boy +that went out to fight for the Boers. Father Lavelle, this is a friend +of mine that I’ve known ever since he was born, and I haven’t laid eyes +on him these six years or more. You’re going West, Mr. Conneally? But of +course you are. Where else would you be going? We’ll travel together +and talk. If it’s second-class you’re going, Father Lavelle will have +to lend me the money to pay the extra on my ticket, so as I can go with +you. Seemingly it’s a Protestant minister you’ve grown into. Well +now, who’d have thought it? And you so set on fighting the battle of +Armageddon and all. It’s a come-down for you, so it is. But never mind. +You might have got yourself killed in it. There’s many a one killed or +maimed for life in smaller fights than it. It’s better to be a minister +any day than a corpse or a cripple. And as you are a minister, it’s +likely to be third-class you’re travelling. Times are changed since +I was young. It was the priests travelled third-class then, if they +travelled at all, and the ministers were cocked up on the cushions, +looking down on the likes of us out of the windows with the little red +curtains half-drawn across them. Now it’ll be Father Lavelle there, +with his grand new coat that he says is Irish manufacture--but I +don’t believe him--who’ll be doing the gentleman. But come along, Mr. +Conneally--come along, and tell me all the battles you fought and the +Generals you made prisoners of, and how it was you took to preaching +afterwards.’ + +Hyacinth, somewhat shyly, introduced the priest to Marion. Then a +ticket-collector drove them into their carriage and locked the door. + +Father Moran began to catechize Hyacinth before the train started, and +drew from him, as they went westwards, the story of his disappointments, +doubts, hopes, veerings, and final despair. Hyacinth spoke unwillingly +at first, giving no more than necessary answers to the questions. +Then, because he found that reticence called down on him fresh and +more detailed inquiries, and also because the priest’s evident and +sympathetic interest redeemed a prying curiosity from offensiveness, +he told his tale more freely. Very soon there was no more need of +questioning, and Father Moran’s share in the talk took the form of +comments interrupting a narrative. + +Of Captain Albert Quinn he said: + +‘I’ve heard of him, and a nice kind of a boy he seems to have been. I +suppose he fought when he got there. He’s just the sort that would be +splendid at the fighting. Well, God is good, and I suppose it’s to +do the fighting for the rest of us that He makes the likes of Captain +Quinn. Did you hear that they wanted to make him a member of Parliament? +Well, they did. Nothing less would please them. But what good would +that be, when he couldn’t set foot in the country for fear of being +arrested?’ + +Later on he was moved to laughter. + +‘To think of your going on the road with a bag full of blankets and +shawls! I never heard of such a thing, and all the grand notions your +head was full of! Why didn’t you come my way? I’d have made Rafferty +give you an order. I’d have bought the makings of a frieze coat from you +myself--I would, indeed.’ + +Afterwards he became grave again. + +‘I won’t let you say the hard word about the nuns, Mr. Conneally. Don’t +do it, now. There’s plenty of good convents up and down through the +country--more than ever you’ll know of, being the black Protestant you +are. And the ones that ruined your business--supposing they did ruin +it, and I’ve only your word for that--what right have you to be blaming +them? They were trying to turn an honest penny by an honest trade, and +that’s just what you and your friend Mr. Quinn were doing yourselves.’ + +Hyacinth, conscious of a failure in good taste, shifted his ground, only +to be interrupted again. + +‘Oh, you may abuse the Congested Districts Board to your heart’s +content. I never could see what the Government made all the Boards for +unless it was to keep the people out of mischief. As long as there is +a Board of any kind about the country every blackguard will be so busy +throwing stones at it that he won’t have time nor inclination left +to annoy decent people. And I’ll say this for the Congested Districts +Board: they mean well. Indeed they do; not a doubt of it. There’s one +good thing they did, anyway, if there isn’t another, and that’s when +they came to Carrowkeel and bought the big Curragh Farm that never +supported a Christian, but two herds and some bullocks ever since the +famine clearances. They fetched the people down off the mountains and +put them on it. Wasn’t that a good thing, now? Sure, all Government +Boards do more wrong than right. It’s the nature of that sort of +confederation. But it’s all the more thankful we ought to be when once +in a while they do something useful.’ + +Hyacinth came to tell of the choice which Canon Beecher offered him, and +dwelt with tragic emphasis on his own decision. The priest listened, a +smile on his lips, a look of pity which belied the smile in his eyes. + +‘So you thought Ireland would be lost altogether unless you wrote +articles for Miss Goold in the _Croppy?_ It’s no small opinion you have +of yourself, Hyacinth Conneally. And you thought you’d save your soul by +going to preach the Gospel to the English people? Was that it, now?’ + +‘It was not,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and you know it wasn’t.’ + +‘Of course it wasn’t. What was I thinking of to forget the young lady +that was in it? A fine wife you’ve got, any way. God bless her, and make +you a good husband to her! By the looks of her she’s better than you +deserve. I suppose it was to get money you went to England, so as to buy +her pretty dresses and a beautiful house to live in? Did you think you’d +grow rich over there?’ + +‘Indeed I did not,’ said Hyacinth bitterly. ‘I knew we’d never be rich.’ + +‘Well, then, couldn’t you as well have been poor in Ireland? And better, +for everybody’s poor here. But there, I know well enough it wasn’t money +you were after. Don’t be getting angry with me, now. It wasn’t for the +sake of saving your soul you went, nor to get your nice wife, though a +man might go a long way for the likes of her. I don’t know why you went, +and it’s my belief you don’t know yourself. But you made a mistake, +whatever you did it for, going off on that English mission. Is it a +mission you call it when you’re a Protestant? I don’t think it is, but +it doesn’t matter. You made a mistake. Why don’t you come back again?’ + +‘God knows I would if I could. It’s hungry I am to get back--just sick +with hunger and the great desire that is on me to be back again in +Ireland.’ + +‘Well, what’s to hinder you? Let me tell you this: There’s been four +men in your father’s place since he died. Never a one of the first three +would stay. They tell me the pay’s small, and the place is desolate to +them for the want of Protestants, there being none, you may say, but the +coastguards. After the third of them left it was long enough before they +got the fourth. I hear they went scouring and scraping round the four +coasts of the country with a trawl-net trying to get a man. And now +they’ve got him he’s all for going away. He says there’s no work to do, +and no people to preach to. But you’d find work, if you were there. I’d +find you work myself--work for the people you knew since you were born, +that’s in the way at last of getting to be the men and women they were +meant to be, and that wants all the help can be got for them. Why don’t +you come back?’ + +‘Indeed, Father Moran, I would if I could.’ ‘If you could! What’s the +use of talking? Isn’t your wife’s father a Canon? And wouldn’t that +professor in the college that you used to tell me of do something for +you? What’s the good of having fine friends like that if they won’t get +you sent to a place like Carrowkeel, that never another minister but +yourself would as much as eat his dinner in twice if he could help it?’ + +Hyacinth glanced doubtfully at Marion. The child lay quiet in her arms. +She slept uncomfortably. It was clear that she had not cared to listen +to the conversation of the two men. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hyacinth, by George A. Birmingham + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10538 *** diff --git a/10538-h/10538-h.htm b/10538-h/10538-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e55d3d --- /dev/null +++ b/10538-h/10538-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9585 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + Hyacinth, by George A. Birmingham + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10538 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + HYACINTH + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By George A. Birmingham + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + 1906 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + In the year 1850 or thereabouts religious and charitable society in + England was seized with a desire to convert Irish Roman Catholics to the + Protestant faith. It is clear to everyone with any experience of + missionary societies that, the more remote the field of actual work, the + easier it is to keep alive the interest of subscribers. The mission to + Roman Catholics, therefore, commenced in that western portion of Galway + which the modern tourist knows as Connemara, and the enthusiasm was + immense. Elderly ladies, often with titles, were energetic in the cause of + the new reformation. Young ladies, some of them very attractive, collected + money from their brothers and admirers. States-men and Bishops headed the + subscription-lists, and influential committees earnestly debated plans for + spending the money which poured in. Faith in the efficacy of money handled + by influential committees is one of the characteristics of the English + people, and in this particular case it seemed as if their faith were to be + justified by results. Most encouraging reports were sent to headquarters + from Connemara. It appeared that converts were flocking in, and that the + schools of the missionaries were filled to overflowing. In the matter of + education circumstances favoured the new reformation. The leonine John + McHale, the Papal Archbishop of Tuam, pursued a policy which drove the + children of his flock into the mission schools. The only other kind of + education available was that which some humorous English statesman had + called ‘national,’ and it did not seem to the Archbishop desirable that an + Irish boy should be beaten for speaking his own language, or rewarded for + calling himself ‘a happy English child.’ He refused to allow the building + of national schools in his diocese, and thus left the cleverer boys to + drift into the mission schools, where they learnt carefully selected texts + of Scripture along with the multiplication-table. The best of them were + pushed on through Dublin University, and crowned the hopes of their + teachers by taking Holy Orders in the Church of England. There are still + to be met with in Galway and Mayo ancient peasants and broken-down + inhabitants of workhouses who speak with a certain pride of ‘my brother + the minister.’ There are also here and there in English rectories elderly + gentlemen who have almost forgotten the thatched cottages where they ate + their earliest potatoes. + </p> + <p> + Among these cleverer boys was one Æneas Conneally, who was something more + than clever. He was also religious in an intense and enthusiastic manner, + which puzzled his teachers while it pleased them. His ancestors had lived + for generations on a seaboard farm, watered by salt rain, swept by misty + storms. The famine and the fever that followed it left him fatherless and + brotherless. The emigration schemes robbed him and his mother of their + surviving relations. The mission school and the missionary’s charity + effected the half conversion of the mother and a whole-hearted acceptance + of the new faith on the part of Æneas. Unlike most of his fellows in the + college classrooms, he refused to regard an English curacy as the goal of + his ambition. It seemed to him that his conversion ought not to end in his + parading the streets of Liverpool in a black coat and a white tie. He + wanted to return to his people and tell them in their own tongue the + Gospel which he had found so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + The London committee meditated on his request, and before they arrived at + a conclusion his mother died, having at the last moment made a tardy + submission to the Church she had denied. Her apostasy—so the + missionaries called it—confirmed the resolution of her son, and the + committee at length agreed to allow him to return to his native village as + the first Rector of the newly-created parish of Carrowkeel. He was + provided with all that seemed necessary to insure the success of his work. + They built him a gray house, low and strong, for it had to withstand the + gales which swept in from the Atlantic. They bought him a field where a + cow could graze, and an acre of bog to cut turf from. A church was built + for him, gray and strong, like his house. It was fitted with comfortable + pews, a pulpit, a reading-desk, and a movable table of wood decently + covered with a crimson cloth. Beyond the church stood the school he had + attended as a boy, whitewashed without and draped inside with maps and + illuminated texts. A salary, not princely but sufficient, was voted to Mr. + Conneally, and he was given authority over a Scripture-reader and a + schoolmaster. The whole group of mission buildings—the rectory, the + church, and the school—stood, like types of the uncompromising + spirit of Protestantism, upon the bare hillside, swept by every storm, + battered by the Atlantic spray. Below them Carrowkeel, the village, + cowered in such shelter as the sandhills afforded. Eastward lonely + cottages, faintly smoking dots in the landscape, straggled away to the + rugged bases of the mountains. The Rev. Æneas Conneally entered upon his + mission enthusiastically, and the London committee awaited results. There + were scarcely any results, certainly none that could be considered + satisfactory. The day for making conversions was past, and the tide had + set decisively against the new reformation. A national school, started by + a clearsighted priest, in spite of his Archbishop, left the mission school + almost without pupils. The Scripture-reader lost heart, and took to + seeking encouragement in the public-house. He found it, and once when + exalted—he said, spiritually—paraded the streets cursing the + Virgin Mary. Worse followed, and the committee in London dismissed the + man. A diminishing income forced on them the necessity of economy, and no + successor was appointed. For a few years Mr. Conneally laboured on. Then a + sharp-eyed inspector from London discovered that the schoolmaster took + very little trouble about teaching, but displayed great talent in + prompting his children at examinations. He, too, was dismissed, and the + committee, still bent on economy, appointed a mistress in his place. She + was a pretty girl, and after she had shivered through the stormy nights of + two winters in the lonely school-house, Mr. Conneally married her. + Afterwards the office of school-teacher was also left vacant. The + whitewashed school fell gradually into decay, and the committee effected a + further saving. + </p> + <p> + After his marriage Mr. Conneally’s missionary enthusiasm began to flag. + His contact with womanhood humanized him. The sternness of the reformer + died in him, and his neighbours, who never could comprehend his religion, + came to understand the man. They learned to look upon him as a friend, to + seek his sympathy and help. In time they learnt to love him. + </p> + <p> + Two years passed, and a son was born. The village people crowded upon him + with congratulations, and mothers of wide experience praised the boy till + Mrs. Conneally’s heart swelled in her with pride. He was christened + Hyacinth, after a great pioneer and leader of the mission work. The naming + was Mr. Conneally’s act of contrition for the forsaking of his enthusiasm, + his recognition of the value of a zeal which had not flagged. Failing the + attainment of greatness, the next best thing is to dedicate a new life to + a patron saint who has won the reward of those who endure to the end. For + two years more life in the glebe house was rapturously happy. Such bliss + has in it, no doubt, an element of sin, and it is not good that it should + endure. This was to be seen afterwards in calmer times, though hardly at + the moment when the break came. There was a hope of a second child, a + delightful time of expectation; then an accident, the blighting of the + hope, and in a few days the death of Mrs. Conneally. Her husband buried + her, digging the first grave in the rocky ground that lay around the + little church. + </p> + <p> + For a time Mr. Conneally was stunned by his sorrow. He stopped working + altogether, ceased to think, even to feel. Men avoided him with + instinctive reverence at first, and afterwards with fear, as he wandered, + muttering to himself, among the sandhills and along the beach. After a + while the power of thought and a sense of the outward things of life + returned to him. He found that an aged crone from the village had + established herself in his house, and was caring for Hyacinth. He let her + stay, and according to her abilities she cooked and washed for him and the + boy, neither asking wages nor taking orders from him, until she died. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth grew and throve amazingly. From morning till evening he was in + the village, among the boats beside the little pier, or in the fields, + when the men worked there. Everyone petted and loved him, from Father + Moran, the priest who had started the national school, down to old Shamus, + the crippled singer of interminable Irish songs and teller of heroic + legends of the past. It was when he heard the boy repeat a story of Finn + MacCool to the old crone in the kitchen that Mr. Conneally awoke to the + idea that he must educate his son. He began, naturally enough, with Irish, + for it was Irish, and not English, that Hyacinth spoke fluently. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards the English alphabet followed, though not for the sake of + reading books, for except the Bible and the Prayer-Book Hyacinth was + taught to read no English books. He learned Latin after a fashion, not + with nice attention to complexities of syntax, but as a language meant to + be used, read, and even spoken now and then to Father Moran. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the passage of the years brought changes to Carrowkeel. The + Admiralty established a coastguard station near the village, and arranged, + for the greater security of the Empire, that men in blue-serge clothes + should take it in turns to look at the Atlantic through a telescope. Then + the unquiet spirit of the Congested Districts Board possessed the place + for a while. A young engineer designed a new pier to shelter + fishing-boats. He galvanized the people into unwonted activity, and, + though sceptical of good results, they earned a weekly wage by building + it. Boats came, great able boats, which fought the Atlantic, and the old + curraghs were left to blister in the sun far up on the beach. Instructors + from the Isle of Man taught new ways of catching mackerel. Green patches + between the cottages and the sea, once the playground of pigs and + children, or the marine parade of solemn lines of geese, were spread with + brown nets. On May mornings, if the take was good, long lines of carts + rattled down the road carrying the fish to the railway at Clifden, and the + place bore for a while the appearance of vitality. A vagrant Englishman + discovered that lobsters could be had almost for the asking in Carrowkeel. + The commercial instincts of his race were aroused in him. + </p> + <p> + He established a trade between the villagers and the fishmongers of + Manchester. The price of lobsters rose to the unprecedented figure of four + shillings a dozen, and it was supposed that even so the promoter of the + scheme secured a profit. + </p> + <p> + To Æneas Conneally, growing quietly old, the changes meant very little. + The coastguards, being bound by one of the articles of the British + Constitution, came to church on Sunday mornings with exemplary regularity, + and each man at fixed intervals brought a baby to be christened and a + woman to be churched. Otherwise they hardly affected Mr. Conneally’s life. + The great officials who visited Carrowkeel to survey the benignant + activities of the Congested Districts Board were men whose magnificent + intellectual powers raised them above any recognised form of Christianity. + Neither Father Moran’s ministrations nor Mr. Conneally’s appealed to them. + </p> + <p> + The London committee of the mission to Roman Catholics made no inquiry + about what was going on at Carrowkeel. They asked for no statistics, + expected no results, but signed quarterly cheques for Mr. Conneally, + presuming, one may suppose, that if he had ceased to exist they would + somehow have heard of it. + </p> + <p> + By far the most important event for Hyacinth and his father was the death + of their old housekeeper. In the changed state of society in Carrowkeel it + was found impossible to secure the services of another. Hyacinth, at this + time about fifteen years old, took to the housework without feeling that + he was doing anything strange or unmanly. He was familiar with the + position of ‘bachelor boys’ who, having grown elderly under the care of a + mother, preferred afterwards the toil of their own kitchens to the + uncertain issue of marrying a girl to ‘do for them.’ Life under their + altered circumstances was simplified. It seemed unnecessary to carry a + meal from the room it was cooked in to another for the purpose of eating + it, so the front rooms of the house, with their tattered furniture, were + left to moulder quietly in the persistent damp. One door was felt to be + sufficient for the ingress and egress of two people from a house. The + kitchen door, being at the back of the house, was oftenest the sheltered + one, so the front door was bolted, and the grass grew up to it. One by + one, as Hyacinth’s education required, the Latin and Greek books were + removed from the forsaken study, and took their places among the + diminishing array of plates and cups on the kitchen dresser. The spreading + and removal of a tablecloth for every meal came to be regarded as foolish + toil. When room was required on the table for plates, the books and papers + were swept on one side. A pile of potatoes, and the pan, with bacon or a + fish perhaps still frizzling in it, was set in the place left vacant. + </p> + <p> + Morning and evening Æneas Conneally expected his son to join with him in + prayer. The two knelt together on the earthen floor facing the window, + while the old man meditated aloud on Divine things. There were breaks in + his speech and long silences, so that sometimes it was hard to tell when + his prayer had really ended. These devotions formed a part of his father’s + life into which Hyacinth never really entered at all. He neither rebelled + nor mocked. He simply remained outside. So when his father wandered off to + solitary places on the seashore, and sat gazing into the sunset or a + gathering storm, Hyacinth neither followed nor questioned him. Sometimes + on winter nights when the wind howled more fiercely than usual round the + house, the old man would close the book they read together, and repeat + aloud long passages from the Apocalypse. His voice, weak and wavering at + first, would gather strength as he proceeded, and the young man listened, + stirred to vague emotion over the fall of Babylon the Great. + </p> + <p> + For the most part Hyacinth’s time was his own. Even the hours of study + were uncertain. He read when he liked, and his father seemed content with + long days of idleness followed by others of application. It was, indeed, + only owing to his love of what he read that the boy learned at all. Often + while he tramped from his home to the village at midday his heart was hot + within him with some great thought which had sprung to him from a hastily + construed chorus of Euripides. Sometimes he startled the fishermen when he + went with them at night by chanting Homer’s rolling hexameters through the + darkness while the boat lay waiting, borne gunwale down to the black water + with the drag of the net that had been shot. + </p> + <p> + There was a tacit understanding that Hyacinth, like his father, was to + take Holy Orders. He matriculated in Trinity College when he was eighteen, + and, as is often done by poorer students, remained at home, merely passing + the required examinations, until he took his degree, and the time came for + his entering the divinity school. Then it became necessary for him to + reside in Dublin, and the first great change in his life took place. + </p> + <p> + The night before he left home he and his father sat together in the + kitchen after they had finished their evening meal. For a long time + neither of them spoke. Hyacinth held a book in his hand, but scarcely + attempted to read it. His thoughts wandered from hopeful expectation of + what the future was to bring him and the new life was to mean, to vague + regrets, weighted with misgivings, which would take no certain shape. + There crowded upon him recollections of busy autumn days when the grain + harvest overtook the belated hay-making, and men toiled till late in the + fields; of long nights in the springtime when he tugged at the + fishing-nets, and felt the mackerel slipping and flapping past his feet in + the darkness; of the longer winter nights when he joined the gatherings of + the boys and girls to dance jigs and reels on the earthen floor of some + kitchen. It seemed now that all this was past and over for him. Holiday + time would bring him back to Carrowkeel, but would it be the same? Would + he be the same? + </p> + <p> + He looked at his father, half hoping for sympathy; but the old man sat + gazing—it seemed to Hyacinth stupidly—into the fire. He + wondered if his father had forgotten that this was their last evening + together. Then suddenly, without raising his eyes, the old man began to + speak, and it appeared that he, too, was thinking of the change. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know, my son, what they will teach you in their school of + divinity. I have long ago forgotten all I learned there, and I have not + missed the knowledge. It does not seem to me now that what they taught me + has been of any help in getting to know Him.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused for a long time. Hyacinth was familiar enough with his father’s + ways of speech to know that the emphatic ‘Him’ meant the God whom he + worshipped. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is, I am sure, only one way in which we can become His friends. <i>These + are they which have come out of great tribulation!</i> You remember that, + Hyacinth? That is the only way. You may be taught truths about Him, but + they matter very little. You have already great thoughts, burning + thoughts, but they will not of themselves bring you to Him. The other way + is the only way. Shall I wish it for you, my son? Shall I give it to you + for my blessing? May great tribulation come upon you in your life! <i>Great + tribulation!</i> See how weak my faith is even now at the very end. I + cannot give you this blessing, although I know very well that it is the + only way. I know this, because I have been along this way myself, and it + has led me to Him.’ + </p> + <p> + Again he paused. It did not seem to Hyacinth to be possible to say + anything. He was not sure in his heart that the friendship of the Man of + Sorrows was so well worth having that he would be content to pay for it by + accepting such a benediction from his father. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall do this for you, Hyacinth: I shall pray that when the choice is + given you, the great choice between what is easy and what is hard, the + right decision may be made for you. I do not know in what form it will + come. Perhaps it will be as it was with me. He made the choice for me, for + indeed I could not have chosen for myself. He set my feet upon the narrow + way, forced me along it for a while, and now at the end I see His face.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had heard enough of the brief bliss of his father’s married life + to understand. He caught for the first time a glimpse of the meaning of + the solitary life, the long prayers, and the meditations. He was + profoundly moved, but it did not even then seem to him desirable to choose + such a way, or to have such attainment thrust on him. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the autumn sunlight chased the recollection of his emotion + from his mind. The fishermen stopped his car as he drove through the + street to shake hands with him. Their wives shouted familiar blessings + from the cabin doors. Father Moran came bare-headed to the gate of his + presbytery garden and waved a farewell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + There is that about the material fabric, the actual stone and mortar, of + Trinity College, Dublin, which makes a vivid appeal to the imagination of + the common man. The cultured sentimentalist will not indeed be able to + lave his soul in tepid emotion while he walks through these quadrangles, + as he may among the cloisters and chapels of the Oxford colleges. The + amateur of the past cannot here stand at gaze before any single building + as he does before the weather-beaten front of Oriel, tracing in + imagination the footsteps of Newman or Arnold. Yet to the average man, and + far more to the newly emancipated schoolboy, Trinity College, Dublin, + makes an appeal which can hardly be ignored. In Oxford and Cambridge town + and University are mixed together; shops jostle and elbow colleges in the + streets. In Dublin a man leaves the city behind him when he enters the + college, passes completely out of the atmosphere of the University when he + steps on to the pavement. The physical contrast is striking enough, + appealing to the ear and the eye. The rattle of the traffic, the jangling + of cart bells, the inarticulate babel of voices, suddenly cease when the + archway of the great entrance-gate is passed. + </p> + <p> + An immense silence takes their place. There is no longer any need for + watchfulness, nor risk of being hustled by the hurrying crowds. Instead of + footway and street crossing there are broad walks, untrodden stretches of + smooth grass. The heavy campanile is in front, and heights of gray + building frown down on each side. It needs no education, not even any + imagination, to appreciate the change. It is not necessary to know that + great scholars inhabited the place, to recall any name or any man’s + career. The appeal is not to a recollected impression of the Middle Ages, + or indeed of any past, remote or near. It is the spirit of scholarship + itself, abstract, intangible, which creates this atmosphere. Knowledge, a + severe goddess, awes while she beckons. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally had submitted himself to such emotions time after time + when, fresh from the wilds of Connemara, he made his way to the + examination-hall, an outside student in a borrowed cap and gown. Now, when + for the first time he entered into the actual life of the college, could + look up at windows of rooms that were his own, and reckon on his privilege + of fingering tomes from the shelves of the huge library, the spirit of the + place awed him anew. He neither analyzed nor attempted an expression of + what he felt, but his first night within the walls was restless because of + the inspiration which filled him. + </p> + <p> + Yet this college does not fail to make an appeal also to the thinking + mind, only it is a strange appeal, tending to sadness. The sudden silence + after the tumult of the streets has come for some minds to be the symbol + of a divorce between the knowledge within and the life without. And this + is not the separation which must always exist between thought and action, + the gulf fixed between the student and the merchant. It is a real divorce + between the nation and the University, between the two kinds of life which + ought, like man and woman, to complete each other through their very + diversity, but here have gone hopelessly apart. Never once through all the + centuries of Ireland’s struggle to express herself has the University felt + the throb of her life. It is true that Ireland’s greatest patriots, from + Swift to Davis, have been her children; but she has never understood their + spirit, never looked on them as anything but strangers to her family. They + have been to her stray robber wasps, to be driven from the hive; while to + the others they have seemed cygnets among her duckling brood. It is very + wonderful that the University alone has been able to resist the glamour of + Ireland’s past, and has failed to admire the persistency of her + nationality. There has surely been enough in every century that has passed + since the college was founded to win it over from alien thought and the + ideals of the foreigner. + </p> + <p> + All this Hyacinth came to feel afterwards, and learnt in bitterness of + spirit to be angry at the University’s isolation from Irish life. At first + quite other thoughts crowded upon his mind. He felt a rebellion against + his father’s estimate of what he was to learn. It seemed to him that he + had come into vital touch with the greatest life of all. He was to join + the ranks of those who besieged the ears of God for knowledge, and left + behind them to successors yet unborn great traditions of the enigmas they + had guessed. In entering upon the study of theology he seemed to become a + soldier in the sacred band, the élite of the army which won and guarded + truth. Already he was convinced that there could be no greater science + than the Divine one, no more inspiring moment in life than this one when + he took his first step towards the knowledge of God. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the quadrangle with his mind full of such thoughts, and joined + a group of students round the door of one of the examination-halls. It did + not shock his sense of fitness that some of his fellow-students in the + great science wore shabby clothes, or that others scorned the use of a + razor. Bred as he had been at home, he felt no incongruity between dirty + collars and the study of divinity. It was not until he caught scraps of + conversation that he experienced an awakening from his dream. One eager + group surrounded a foreseeing youth who had written the dates of the first + four General Councils of the Church upon his shirt-cuff. + </p> + <p> + ‘Read them out, like a good man,’ said one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold on a minute,’ said another, ‘till I see if I have got them right. I + ground them up specially this morning. Nicæa, 318—no, hang it! + that’s the number of Bishops who were present; 325 was the date, wasn’t + it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was the row about at Chalcedon?’ asked a tall, pale youth. ‘Didn’t + some monk or other go for Cyril of Alexandria?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll be stuck anyhow, Tommy,’ said a neat, dapper little man with a + very ragged gown. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth slipped past the group, and approached two better dressed + students who stood apart from the others. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is this,’ he asked, ‘where the entrance examination to the divinity + school is to be held?’ + </p> + <p> + For answer he received a curt ‘Yes’ and a stare. Apparently his suit of + brown Connemara homespun did not commend him to these aristocrats. They + turned their backs on him, and resumed their conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘She was walking up and down the pier listening to the band with two of + the rankest outsiders you ever set eyes on—medicals out of Paddy + Dunn’s. Of course I could do nothing else but break it off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you were engaged to her, then? I didn’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I was and I wasn’t. Anyhow, I thought it better to have a clear + understanding. She came up to me outside the door of Patrick’s on Sunday + afternoon just as if nothing had happened. “Hullo, Bob,” says she; “I + haven’t seen you for ages.” “My name,” said I, “is Mr. Banks”—just + like that, as cool as you please. I could see she felt it. “I’ve called + you Bob,” says she, very red in the face, “and you’ve called me Maimie + ever since we went to Sunday-school together, and I’m not going to begin + calling you Mr. Banks now, my boy-o! so don’t you think it!”’ + </p> + <p> + It was a relief to Hyacinth when he was tapped on the arm by a boy with a + very pimply face, who thrust a paper into his hand, and distracted his + attention from the final discomfiture of Maimie, which Mr. Banks was + recounting in a clear, high-pitched voice, as if he wished everyone in the + neighbourhood to hear it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope you’ll come,’ said the boy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all in the paper. The students’ prayer-meeting, held every Wednesday + morning at nine o’clock sharp. Special meeting to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was bewildered. There was something quite unfamiliar in this + prompt and business-like advertisement of prayer. The student with the + papers began to be doubtful of him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not High Church, are you?’ he asked. ‘We’re not. We don’t have + printed offices, with verses and responds, and that sort of thing. We have + extempore prayer by members of the union.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; I’m not High Church,’ said Hyacinth—‘at least, I think not. I + don’t really know much about these things. I’ll be very glad to go to your + meeting.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right,’ said the other. ‘All are welcome. There will be special + prayer to-morrow for the success of the British arms. I suppose you heard + that old Kruger has sent an ultimatum. There will be war at once.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden movement among the students; gowns were pulled straight + and caps adjusted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here he comes,’ said someone. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry, the divinity professor, crossed the square rapidly. He was a + middle-aged man, stout, almost ponderous, in figure; but he held himself + rigidly upright, and walked fast across the square. The extreme neatness + of his clothes contrasted with the prevailing shabbiness of the students + and the assistant lecturers who followed him. Yet he did not seem to be a + man who gave to externals more than their due share of consideration. His + broad forehead gave promise of great intellectual power, a promise half + belied by the narrow gray eyes beneath it. These were eyes which might see + keenly, and would certainly see things just as they are, though they were + not likely to catch any glimpse of that greater world where objects cannot + be focussed sharply. Yet in them, an odd contradiction, there lurked a + possibility of humorous twinkling. The man was capable perhaps of the + broad tolerance of the great humorist, certainly of very acute perception + of life’s minor incongruities. His thin lips were habitually pressed + together, giving a suggestion of strength to the set of his mouth. A man + with such a mouth can think and act, but not feel either passionately or + enduringly. He will direct men because he knows his own mind, but is not + likely to sway them because he will always be master of himself, and will + not become enslaved to any great enthusiasm. The students trooped into the + hall, and the examination began. The assistant lecturers helped in the + work. Each student was called up in turn, asked a few questions, and given + a portion of the Greek Testament to translate. For the most part their + capacities were known beforehand. There were some who had won honours in + their University course before entering the divinity school. For them the + examiners were all smiles, and the business of the day was understood to + be perfunctory. Others were recognised as mere pass men, whom it was + necessary to spur to some exertion. A few, like Hyacinth, were unknown. + These were the poorer students who had not been able to afford to reside + at the University sooner than was absolutely necessary. Their knowledge, + generally scanty, was received by the examiners with undisguised contempt. + It fell to Hyacinth’s lot to present himself to Dr. Henry. He did so + tremulously. + </p> + <p> + The professor inquired his name, and looked him over coldly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Read for me,’ he said, handing him a Greek Testament. The passage marked + was St. Paul’s great description of charity. It was very familiar to + Hyacinth, and he read it with a serious feeling for the words. Dr. Henry, + who at first had occupied himself with some figures on a sheet of paper, + looked up and listened attentively. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where were you at school,’ he asked. ‘Who taught you Greek?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My father taught me, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! You have got a very peculiar pronunciation, and you’ve made an + extraordinary number of mistakes in accentuation and quantity, but you’ve + read as if St. Paul meant something. Now translate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have given me,’ he said, when Hyacinth had finished, ‘the Authorized + Version word for word. Can you do no better than that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can do it differently,’ said Hyacinth, ‘not better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know any Greek outside of the New Testament?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth repeated a few lines from Homer. + </p> + <p> + ‘That book of the “Odyssey” is not in the college course,’ said Dr. Henry. + ‘How did you come to read it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had no explanation to give. He had read the book, it seemed, + without being forced, and without hope of getting a prize. He recited it + as if he liked it. The remainder of the examination disclosed the fact + that he was lamentably deficient in the rudiments of Greek grammar, and + had the very vaguest ideas of the history of the Church. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards Professor Henry discussed the new class with his assistants as + they crossed the square together. + </p> + <p> + ‘The usual lot,’ said Dr. Spenser—‘half a dozen scholars, perhaps + one man among them with real brains. The rest are either idlers or, what + is worse, duffers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hit on one man with brains,’ said Dr. Henry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Thompson, I suppose. I saw that you took him. He did well in his + degree exam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Dr. Henry; ‘the man I mean has more brains than Thompson. He’s + a man I never heard of before. His name is Conneally. He looks as if he + came up from the wilds somewhere. He has hands like an agricultural + labourer, and a brogue that I fancy comes from Galway. But he’s a man to + keep an eye on. He may do something by-and-by if he doesn’t go off the + lines. We must try and lick him into shape a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally knew extremely little about the politics, foreign or + domestic, of the English nation. His father neither read newspapers nor + cared to discuss such rumours of the doings of Governments as happened to + reach Carrowkeel. On the other hand, he knew a good deal about the history + of Ireland, and the English were still for him the ‘new foreigners’ whom + Keating describes. His intercourse with the fishermen and peasants of the + Galway seaboard had intensified his vague dislike of the series of + oscillations between bullying and bribery which make up the story of + England’s latest attempts to govern Ireland. Without in the least + understanding the reasons for the war in South Africa, he felt a strong + sympathy with the Boers. To him they seemed a small people doomed, if they + failed to defend themselves, to something like the treatment which Ireland + had received. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore with surprise, almost with horror, that he listened for + the first time to the superlative Imperialism of the Protestant Unionist + party when he attended the prayer-meeting to which he had been invited. + The room was well filled with students, who joined heartily in the singing + of ‘Onward, Christian soldiers,’ a hymn selected as appropriate for the + occasion. An address by the chairman, a Dublin clergyman, followed. + According to this gentleman the Boers were a psalm-singing but + hypocritical nation addicted to slave-driving. England, on the other hand, + was the pioneer of civilization, and the nursing-mother of missionary + enterprise. It was therefore clear that all good Christians ought to pray + for the success of the British arms. The speech bewildered rather than + irritated Hyacinth. The mind gasps for a time when immersed suddenly in an + entirely new view of things, and requires time to adjust itself for + pleasure or revolt, just as the body does when plunged into cold water. It + had never previously occurred to him that an Irishman could regard England + as anything but a pirate. Anger rapidly succeeded his surprise while he + listened to the prayers which followed. It was apparently open to any + student present to give utterance, as occasion offered, to his desires, + and a large number of young men availed themselves of the opportunity. + Some spoke briefly and haltingly, some laboriously attempted to adapt the + phraseology of the Prayer-Book to the sentiment of the moment, a few had + the gift of rapid and even eloquent supplication. These last were the + hardest to endure. They prefaced their requests with fantastic eulogies of + England’s righteousness, designed apparently for the edification of the + audience present in the flesh, for they invariably began by assuring the + Almighty that He was well aware of the facts, and generally apologized to + Him for recapitulating them. Hyacinth’s anger increased as he heard the + fervent groans which expressed the unanimous conviction of the justice of + the petitions. No one seemed to think it possible that the right could be + on the other side. + </p> + <p> + When the meeting was over, the secretary, whose name, it appeared, was + Mackenzie, greeted Hyacinth warmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Glad to have you with us,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll always come. I shall + be delighted to propose you as a member of the union. Subscription one + shilling, to defray necessary expenses. In any case, whether you subscribe + or not, we shall be glad to have you with us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall never come again,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + Mackenzie drew back, astonished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not? Didn’t you like the meeting? I thought it was capital—so + informal and hearty. Didn’t you think it was hearty? But perhaps you are + High Church. Are you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth remembered that this identical question had been put to him the + day before by the pimply-faced boy who distributed leaflets. He wondered + vaguely at the importance which attached to the nickname. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not sure,’ he said, ‘that I quite know what you mean. You see, I + have only just entered the divinity school, and I hardly know anything + about theology. What is a High Churchman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it doesn’t require any theology to know that. It’s the simplest thing + in the world. A High Churchman is—well, of course, a High Churchman + sings Gregorian chants, you know, and puts flowers on the altar. There’s + more than that, of course. In fact, a High Churchman———’ + He paused and then added with an air of victorious conviction: ‘But anyhow + if you were High Church you would be sure to know it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well,’ said Hyacinth, turning to leave the room, ‘I don’t know + anything about it, so I suppose I’m not High Church.’ + </p> + <p> + Mackenzie, however, was not going to allow him to escape so easily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold on a minute. If you’re not High Church why won’t you come to our + meetings?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I can’t join in your prayers when I am not at all sure that + England ought to win.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good Lord!’ said Mackenzie. It is possible to startle even the secretary + of a prayer union into mild profanity. ‘You don’t mean to tell me you are + a Pro-Boer, and you a divinity student?’ + </p> + <p> + It had not hitherto struck Hyacinth that it was impossible to combine a + sufficient orthodoxy with a doubt about the invariable righteousness of + England’s quarrels. Afterwards he came to understand the matter better. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Mackenzie was not at heart an ill-natured man, and he would have + repudiated with indignation the charge of being a mischief-maker. He felt + after his conversation with Hyacinth much as most men would if they + discovered an unsuspected case of small-pox among their acquaintances. His + first duty was to warn the society in which he moved of the existence of a + dangerous man, a violent and wicked rebel. He repeated a slightly + exaggerated version of what Hyacinth had said to everyone he met. The + pleasurable sense of personal importance which comes with having a story + to tell grew upon him, and he spent the greater part of the day in seeking + out fresh confidants to swell the chorus of his commination. + </p> + <p> + In England at the time public opinion was roused to a fever heat of + patriotic enthusiasm, and the Irish Protestant Unionists were eager to + outdo even the music-halls in Imperialist sentiment, the students of + Trinity College being then, as ever, the ‘death or glory’ boys of Irish + loyalty. It is easy to imagine how Hyacinth’s name was whispered + shudderingly in the reading-room of the library, how his sentiments were + anathematized in the dining-hall at commons, how plots were hatched for + the chastisement of his iniquity over the fire in the evenings, when pipes + were lit and tea was brewed. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the week Hyacinth was in an exceedingly uncomfortable + position. Outside the lecture-rooms nobody would speak to him. Inside he + found himself the solitary occupant of the bench he sat on—a + position of comparative physical comfort, for the other seats were + crowded, but not otherwise desirable. A great English poet had just + composed a poem, which a musician, no doubt equally eminent, had set to a + noble tune. It embodied an appeal for funds for purposes not clearly + specified, and hazarded the experiment of rhyming ‘cook’s son’ with + ‘Duke’s son,’ which in less fervent times might have provoked the + criticism of the captious. It became the fashion in college to chant this + martial ode whenever Hyacinth was seen approaching. It was thundered out + by a choir who marched in step up and down his staircase. Bars of it were + softly hummed in his ear while he tried to note the important truths which + the lecturers impressed upon their classes. One night five musicians + relieved each other at the task of playing the tune on a concertina + outside his door. They commenced briskly at eight o’clock in the evening, + and the final sleepy version only died away at six the next morning. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry, who either did not know or chose to ignore the state of the + students’ feelings, advised Hyacinth to become a member of the Theological + Debating Society. The election to membership, he said, was a mere form, + and nobody was ever excluded. Hyacinth sent his name to the secretary, and + was blackbeaned by an overwhelming majority of the members. Shortly + afterwards the Lord-lieutenant paid a visit to the college, and the + students seized the chance of displaying their loyalty to the Throne and + Constitution. They assembled outside the library, which the representative + of Queen Victoria was inspecting under the guidance of the Provost and two + of the senior Fellows. It is the nature of the students of Trinity College + to shout while they wait for the development of interesting events, and on + this occasion even the library walls were insufficient to exclude the + noise. The excellent nobleman inside found himself obliged to cast round + for original remarks about the manuscript of the ‘Book of Kells,’ while + the air was heavy with the verses which commemorate the departure of + ‘fifty thousand fighting men’ to Table Bay. When at length he emerged on + the library steps the tune changed, as was right and proper, to ‘God save + the Queen.’ Strangely enough, Hyacinth had never before heard the national + anthem. It is not played or sung often by the natives of Connemara, and + although the ocean certainly forms part of the British Empire, the + Atlantic waves have not yet learned to beat out this particular melody. So + it happened that Hyacinth, without meaning to be offensive, omitted the + ceremony of removing his hat. A neighbour, joyful at the opportunity, + snatched the offending garment, and skimmed it far over the heads of the + crowd. A few hard kicks awakened Hyacinth more effectually to a sense of + his crime, and it was with a torn coat and many bruises that he escaped in + the end to the shelter of his rooms, less inclined to be loyal than when + he left them. + </p> + <p> + After a few weeks it became clear that the British armies in South Africa + were not going to reap that rich and unvarying crop of victories which the + valour of the soldiers and the ability of the generals deserved. The + indomitable spirit of the great nation rose to the occasion, and the + position of those who entertained doubts about the justice of the original + quarrel became more than ever unbearable. Hyacinth took to wandering by + himself through parts of the city in which he was unlikely to meet any of + his fellow-students. His soul grew bitter within him. The course of petty + persecution to which he was subjected hardened his original sentimental + sympathy with the Boer cause into a clearly defined hatred of everything + English. When he got clear of the college and the hateful sound of the + ‘cook’s son, Duke’s son’ tune, he tramped along, gloating quietly over the + news of the latest ‘regrettable incident.’ + </p> + <p> + He was very lonely and friendless, for not even the discomfiture of his + enemies can make up to a young man for the want of a friend to speak to. + An inexpressible longing for home came over him. There was a shop in a + by-street which exposed photographs of Galway scenery in its windows for a + time. Hyacinth used to go day by day to gaze at them. The modest front of + the Gaelic League Hyce was another haunt of his. He used to stand Debating + his eyes on the Irish titles of the books in the window, and repeating the + words he read aloud to himself until the passers-by turned to look at him. + Once he entered a low-browed, dingy shop merely because the owner’s name + was posted over the door in Gaelic characters. It was one of those shops + to be found in the back streets of most large towns which devote + themselves to a composite business, displaying newspapers, apples, + tobacco, and sweets for sale. The afternoon light, already growing feeble + in the open air, had almost deserted the interior of the shop. At first + Hyacinth saw nothing but an untidy red-haired girl reading in a corner by + the light of a candle. He asked her for cigarettes. She rose, and laid her + book and the candle on the counter. It was one of O’Growney’s Irish + primers, dirty and pencilled. Hyacinth’s heart warmed to her at once. Was + she not trying to learn the dear Irish which the barefooted girls far away + at home shouted to each other as they dragged the seaweed up from the + shore? Then from the far end of the shop he heard a man’s voice speaking + Irish. It was not the soft liquid tongue of the Connaught peasants, but a + language more regular and formal. The man spoke it as if it were a + language he had learned, comparatively slowly and with effort. Yet the + sound of it seemed to Hyacinth one of the sweetest things he had ever + heard. Not even the shrinking self-distrust which he had been taught by + repeated snubbings and protracted ostracism could prevent him from making + himself known to this stranger. + </p> + <p> + ‘The blessing of God upon Ireland!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + There was not a moment’s hesitation on the part of the stranger. The sound + of the Gaelic was enough for him. He stretched out both hands to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it that you also are one of us—one of the Gaels?’ he asked. + Hyacinth seized the outstretched hands and held them tight. The feeling of + offered friendship and companionship warmed him with a sudden glow. He + felt that his eyes were filling with tears, and that his voice would break + if he tried to speak, but he did not care at all. He poured out a long + Gaelic greeting, scarcely knowing what he said. Perhaps neither the man + whose hands he held nor the owner of the shop behind the counter fully + understood him, but they guessed at his feelings. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it that you are a stranger here and lonely? Where is your home? What + name is there on you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maiseadh, I am a stranger indeed and lonely too,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a stranger no longer, then. We are all of us friends with each + other. You speak our own dear tongue, and that is enough to make us + friends.’ + </p> + <p> + The tobacconist, it appeared, also spoke Irish of a kind. He cast + occasional remarks into the conversation which followed, less, it seemed + to Hyacinth, with a view of giving expression to any thought than for the + sake of airing some phrases which he had somewhat inadequately learned. + Indeed, it struck Hyacinth very soon that his new friend was getting + rather out of his depth in his ‘own dear tongue.’ At last the tobacconist + said with a smile: + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid we must ask Mr. Conneally—didn’t you say that Conneally + was your name?—to speak the Beurla. I’m clean beaten with the + Gaelic, and you can’t go much further yourself, Cahal. Isn’t that the + truth, now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And small blame to me,’ said Cahal—in English, Charles—Maguire. + ‘After all, what am I but a learner? And it’s clear that Mr. Conneally has + spoken it since ever he spoke at all.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth smiled and nodded. Maguire went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you doing this afternoon? What do you say to coming round with + me to see Mary O’Dwyer? It’s her “at home” day, and I’m just on my way + there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I don’t know her. I can hardly go to her house, can + I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’ll introduce you,’ said Maguire cheerfully. ‘She allows me to bring + anyone I like to see her. She likes to know anyone who loves Ireland and + speaks Gaelic. Perhaps we’ll meet Finola too; she’s often there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Meet who?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Finola. That’s what we call Miss Goold—Augusta Goold, you know. We + call her Finola because she shelters the rest of us under her wings when + the Moyle gets tempestuous. You remember the story?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I do,’ said Hyacinth, who had learnt the tale of Lir’s daughter + as other children do Jack the Giant-Killer. ‘And who is Miss O’Dwyer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, she writes verses. Surely you know them?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a pity! We all admire them immensely. She has something nearly every + week in the <i>Croppy</i>. She has just brought out a volume of lyrics. + Her brother worked the publishing of it in New York. He is mixed up with + literary people there. You must have heard of him at all events. He’s + Patrick O’Dwyer, one of the few who stood by O’Neill when he fought the + priests. He gave up the Parliamentary people after that. No honest man + could do anything else.’ + </p> + <p> + He conducted Hyacinth to one of the old squares on the north side of the + city. When the tide of fashion set southwards, spreading terraces and + villas from Leeson Street to Killiney, it left behind some of the finest + houses in Dublin. Nowadays for a comparatively low rent it is possible to + live in a splendid house if you do not aspire to the glory of a smart + address. Miss O’Dwyer’s house, for instance, boasted a spacious hall and + lofty sitting-rooms, with impressive ceilings and handsome fireplaces; yet + she paid for it little more than half the rent which a cramped villa in + Clyde Road would have cost her. Even so, it was somewhat of a mystery to + her friends how Miss O’Dwyer managed to live there. A solicitor who had + his offices on the ground-floor probably paid the rent of the whole house; + but the profits of verse-making are small, and a poetess, like meaner + women, requires food, clothes, and fire. Indeed, Miss O’Dwyer, no longer + ‘M. O’D.,’ whose verses adorned the <i>Croppy</i>, but ‘Miranda,’ served + an English paper as Irish correspondent. It was a pity that a pen + certainly capable of better things should have been employed in describing + the newest costume of the Lord Lieutenant’s wife at Punchestown, or the + confection of pale-blue tulle which, draped round Mrs. Chesney, adorned a + Castle ball. Miss O’Dwyer herself was heartily ashamed of the work, but it + was, or appeared to her to be, necessary to live, and even with the aid of + occasional remittances from Patrick in New York, she could scarcely have + afforded her friends a cup of tea without the guineas earned by torturing + the English language in a weekly chronicle of Irish society’s clothes. + Even with the help of such earnings, poverty was for ever tapping her on + the shoulder, and no one except Mary herself and her one maid-servant knew + how carefully fire and light had to be economized in the splendid rooms + where an extinct aristocracy had held revels a century before. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth and his friend advanced past the solicitor’s doors, and up the + broad staircase as far as the drawing-room. For a time they got no further + than the threshold. The opening of the door was greeted with a long-drawn + and emphatic ‘Hush!’ from the company within. Maguire laid his hand on + Hyacinth’s arm, and the two stood still looking into the room. What was + left of the feeble autumn twilight was almost excluded by half-drawn + curtains. No lamp was lit, and the fire cast only fitful rays here and + there through the room. It was with difficulty that Hyacinth discerned + figures in a semicircle, and a slim woman in a white dress standing apart + from the others near the fire. Then he heard a voice, a singularly sweet + voice, as it seemed to him, reciting with steady emphasis on the syllables + which marked the rhythm of the poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Out there in the West, where the heavy gray clouds are + insistent, + Where the sky stoops to gather the earth into mournful + embraces, + Where the country lies saturate, sodden, round saturate + hamlets— + + ‘Out there in the sunset where rages and surges Atlantic, + And the salt is commingled with rain over desolate beaches, + Thy heart, O beloved, is still beating—fitfully, feebly. + + ‘Is beating—ah! not as it beat in the squadrons of Sarafield, + Exultantly, joyously, gladly, expectant of battle, + With throbs like the notes of the drums when men gather for + fighting. + + ‘Beats still; but, ah! not as it beat in the latest Fitzgerald, + Nobly devote to his race’s most noble tradition; + Or in Emmet or Davis, or, last on their list, in O’Brien. + + ‘Beats fitfully, feebly. O desolate mother! O Erin! + When shall the pulse of thy life, which but flutters in + Connaucht, + Throb through thy meadows and boglands, and mountains and + cities?’ +</pre> + <p> + A subdued murmur of applause greeted the close of the recitation, and + praise more sincere than that with which politeness generally greets the + drawing-room performances of minor poets. Hyacinth joined in neither. It + seemed to him that the verses were too beautiful to speak about, so sacred + that praise was a kind of sacrilege. Perhaps some excuse may be found for + his emotion in the fact that for weeks he had heard no poetry except the + ode about ‘wiping something off a slate.’ The violence of the contrast + benumbed his critical faculty. So a man who was obliged to gaze for a long + time at the new churches erected in Belfast might afterwards catch himself + in the act of admiring the houses which the Congested Districts Board + builds in Connaught. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid I must have bored you.’ It was Miss O’Dwyer who greeted him. + ‘I didn’t see you and Mr. Maguire come in until I had commenced my poor + little poem. I ought to have given you some tea before I inflicted it on + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it was beautiful. Is it really your own? Did you + write it?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer flushed. The vehement sincerity of his tone embarrassed her, + though she was accustomed to praise. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very kind,’ she said. ‘All my friends here are far too kind to + me. But come now, I must give you some tea.’ + </p> + <p> + The tea was nearly stone cold and weak with frequent waterings. The saucer + and spoon, possibly even the cup, had been used by someone else before. + Mr. Maguire secured for himself the last remaining morsel of cake, leaving + Hyacinth the choice between a gingerbread biscuit and a torn slice of + bread and butter. None of these things appeared to embarrass Miss O’Dwyer. + They did not matter in the least to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know the West well?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, I do not. I’ve always longed to go and spend a whole long summer + there, but I’ve never had the chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then how did you know it was like that? I mean, how did you catch the + spirit of it in your poem?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did I?’ she said. ‘I am so glad. But I don’t deserve any credit for it. I + wrote those verses after I had been looking at one of Jim Tynan’s + pictures. You know them, of course? No? Oh, but you must go and see them + at once if you love the West. And you do, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is my home,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished his tea she introduced him to some of the people who + were in the room. Afterwards he came to know them, but the memories which + Miss O’Dwyer’s verses called up in him made him absent and preoccupied. He + scarcely heard the names she spoke. Soon the party broke up, and Hyacinth + turned to look for Maguire. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid Mr. Maguire has gone,’ said Miss O’Dwyer. ‘He has a lecture to + attend this afternoon. You must come here again, Mr. Conneally. Come next + Wednesday—every Wednesday, if you like. We can have a talk about the + West. I shall want you to tell me all sorts of things. Perhaps Finola will + be here next week. She very often comes. I shall look forward to + introducing you to her. You are sure to admire her immensely. We all do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I’ve heard of her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘Mr. Maguire told me who she + was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but he couldn’t have told you half. She is magnificent. All the rest + of us are only little children compared to her. Now be sure you come and + meet her.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Ever since Pitt and Castlereagh perpetrated their Act of Union two political + parties have struggled together in Ireland. Both of them have been + steadily prominent, so prominent that they have sometimes attracted the + attention of the English public, and drawn to their contest a little quite + unintelligent interest. The simplest and most discernible line of division + between them is a religious one. The Protestant party has hitherto been + guided and led by the gentry. It has been steadily loyal to England and to + the English Government. It has not been greatly concerned about Ireland or + Ireland’s welfare, but has been consistently anxious to preserve its own + privileges, powers, and property. It has not come well out of the struggle + of the nineteenth century. Its Church has been disestablished, its + privileges and powers abolished, and the last remnants of its property are + being filched from it. It is a curious piece of irony that this party + should have hastened its own defeat by the very policy adopted to secure + victory. No doubt the Irish aristocracy would have suffered less if they + had been seditious instead of loyal. The Roman Catholic party has been led + by ecclesiastics, and has always included the bulk of the people. Its + leaders have not cared for the welfare of Ireland any more than the + Protestant party, but they have always pretended that they did, being in + this respect much wiser than their opponents. They have pulled the strings + of a whole series of political movements, and made puppets dance on and + off the stage as they chose. Also they have understood how to deal with + England. Unlike the Protestant party, they have never been loyal, because + they knew from the first that England gives most to those who bully or + worry her. They have kept one object steadily in view, an object quite as + selfish in reality as that of the aristocracy—the aggrandisement of + their Church. For this they have been prepared at any time to sacrifice + the interests of Ireland, and are content at the present moment to watch + the country bleeding to death with entire complacency. The leaders of this + party enter upon the twentieth century in sight of their promised land. + They possess all the power and nearly all the wealth of Ireland. If the + Bishops can secure the continuance of English government for the next + half-century Ireland will have become the Church’s property. Her money + will go to propagating the faith. Her children will supply the + English-speaking world with a superfluity of priests and nuns. + </p> + <p> + Outside both parties there have always been a few men united by no ties of + policy or religion, unless, as perhaps we may, we call patriotism a kind + of religion. Other lands have been loved sincerely, devotedly, + passionately, as mothers, wives, and mistresses are loved. Ireland alone + has been loved religiously, as men are taught to love God or the saints. + Her lovers have called themselves Catholic or Protestant: such + distinctions have not mattered to these men. They have scarcely ever been + able to form themselves into a party, never into a strong or a wise party. + They have been violent, desperate, frequently ridiculous, but always + sincere and unselfish. Their great weakness has lain in the fact that they + have had no consistent aim. Some of their leaders have looked for a return + to Ireland’s Constitution, and built upon the watchword of the volunteers, + ‘The King, the Lords, and the Commons of Ireland.’ Some have dreamed of a + complete independence, of an Irish republic shaping its own world policy. + Some have wholly distrusted politics, and given their strength to the + intellectual, spiritual, or material regeneration of the people. Among + these men have been found the sanest practical reformers and the wildest + revolutionary dreamers. On the outskirts of their company have hung all + sorts of people. Parliamentary politicians have leaned towards them, and + been driven straightway out of public life. Criminals have claimed + fellowship with them, and brought discredit upon honourable men. Poets and + men of letters have drawn their inspiration from their strivings, and in + return have decked their patriotism with imperishable splendour. In the + future, no doubt, the struggle will lie between this party and the + hitherto victorious hierarchy, with England for ally, and the fight seems + a wholly unequal one. It was into an advanced and vehement group of + patriots that Mary O’Dwyer introduced Hyacinth. He became a regular reader + of the <i>Croppy</i>, and made the acquaintance of most of the + contributors to its pages. He found them clever, enthusiastic, and + agreeable men and women, but, as he was forced to admit to himself, + occasionally reckless. One evening a discussion took place in Mary + O’Dwyer’s room which startled and shocked him. Excitement ran high over + the events of the war. The sympathies of the ‘Independent Irelanders,’ as + they called themselves, fiercely assertive even in their name, were of + course entirely with the Boers, and they received every report of an + English reverse with unmixed satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth entered the room he found four people there. Mary O’Dwyer + herself was making tea at a little table near the fire. Augusta Goold—the + famous Finola—was stretched in a deep chair smoking a cigarette. She + was a remarkable woman both physically and intellectually. It was her + delight to emphasize her splendid figure by draping it in brilliant reds + and yellows. To anyone who cared to speculate on such a subject it seemed + a mystery why her clothes remained on her when she walked. The laws of + gravity seemed to demand that they should loosen with her movements, + become detached, and finally drop down. Nothing of the sort had ever + happened, so it must be presumed that she had secret and unconventional + ways of fastening them. Similarly it was not easy to see why her hair + stayed upon her head. It was arranged upon no recognised system, and + suggested that she had perfected the art, known generally only to heroines + of romances, of twisting her tresses with a single movement into a loose + knot. That she affected white frills of immense complexity was frequently + evident, owing to the difficulty she experienced in confining her long + legs to feminine attitudes. Her complexion put it in the power of her + enemies to accuse her of familiarity with cosmetics—a slander, for + she had been observed to turn green during an attack of sea-sickness. She + had great brilliant eyes, which were capable of expressing intensity of + enthusiasm or hatred, but no one had ever seen them soften with any + emotion like love. Her attitude towards social conventions was symbolized + by her clothes. In the old days, when the houses of ‘society’ had still + been open to her, she was accustomed to challenge criticism by fondling a + pet monkey at tea-parties. Since she had lost caste by taking up the cause + of ‘Independent Ireland’ the ape had been discarded, and the same result + achieved by occasional bickerings with the police. She was an able public + speaker, and could convince her audiences for a time of the reasonableness + of opinions which next morning appeared to be the outcome of delirium. She + wrote, not, like Mary O’Dwyer, verse in which any sentiment may be + excused, but incisive and vigorous prose. Occasionally even the Castle + officials got glimmerings of the meaning of one of her articles, and + suppressed the whole issue of the <i>Croppy</i> in which it appeared. + </p> + <p> + Near her sat a much less remarkable person—Thomas Grealy, historian + and archaeologist. He had been engaged for many years on a history of + Ireland, but no volume of it had as yet appeared. His friends suspected + that he had got permanently stuck somewhere about the period of the + introduction of Christianity into the island. His essays, published in the + <i>Croppy</i>, dwelt with passionate regret on the departed glories of + Tara. He held strong views about the historical reality of the + Tuath-de-Danaan, and got irritated at the most casual mention of Dr. + Petrie’s theory of the round towers. He had proved that King Arthur was an + Irishman, with whose reputation Malory and Tennyson had taken + unwarrantable liberties. The name of Dante brought a smile of contempt to + his lips, for he knew that the ‘Purgatorio’ was stolen shamelessly from + the works of a monk of Cong. He nourished a secret passion for Finola. He + never ventured to declare it, but his imagination endowed every heroine, + from Queen Maev down to the foster daughter of the Leinster farmer who + married King Cormac, with Miss Goold’s figure, eyes and hair. It was + perhaps the burning of this passion which rendered him so cadaverous that + his clothes—in other respects also they looked as if they had been + bought in far-off happier days—hung round him like the covering of a + broken-ribbed umbrella. + </p> + <p> + The fourth person present was Timothy Halloran, who hovered about Mary + O’Dwyer’s tea-table. He was what the country people call a ‘spoilt + priest.’ Destined by simple and pious parents to take Holy Orders, he got + as far as the inside of Maynooth College. While there he had kicked a + fellow-student down the whole length of a long corridor for telling tales + to the authorities. A committee of ecclesiastics considered the case, and + having come to the conclusion that he lacked vocation for the priesthood, + sent him home. Timothy was accustomed to say that his violence might have + been passed over, but that his failure to appreciate the devotion to duty + which inspired the tale-bearer marked him decisively as unfit for + ordination. He never regretted his expulsion, although he complained + bitterly that he had been nearly choked before they cast him out. He + meant, it is to be supposed, that the effort to instil a proper reverence + for dogma had almost destroyed his capacity for thought, not that the + fingers of the reverend professors had actually closed around his + windpipe. His subsequent experiences had included a period of teaching in + an English Board School, a brief, but not wholly unsatisfactory, career as + a political organizer in New York, and a return to Ireland, where he + earned a precarious living as a journalist. + </p> + <p> + All four greeted Hyacinth warmly as he entered the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘We were just discussing,’ said Mary O’Dwyer, ‘the failure of our attempt + to organize a field hospital and a staff of nurses for the Boers. It is a + shame to have to admit that the English garrison in Ireland can raise + thousands of pounds for their war funds, and the Irish can’t be got to + subscribe a few hundreds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The wealth of the country,’ said Grealy, ‘is in the hands of a minority—the + so-called Loyalists.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Finola sharply. ‘If you ever gave a thought to anything + more recent than the High-King’s Court at Tara you would know that the + landlords are not the wealthy part of the community any longer. There’s + many a provincial publican calling himself a Nationalist who could buy up + the nearest landlord and every Protestant in the parish along with him. + I’m a Protestant myself, born and bred among the class you speak of, and I + know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re quite right, Miss Goold,’ said Tim. ‘The people could have given + the money if they liked. I attribute the failure of the fund to the apathy + or treachery of the priests, call it which you like. There isn’t a + Protestant church in the country where the parsons don’t preach “Give + give, give” to their people Sunday after Sunday. And what’s the result? + Why, they have raised thousands of pounds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘After the poem you published in last week’s <i>Croppy</i>,’ said Hyacinth + to Mary O’Dwyer, ‘I made sure the subscriptions would have come in. Your + appeal was one of the most beautiful things I ever read. It would have + touched the heart of a stone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poetry is all well enough,’ said Tim. ‘I admire your verses, Mary, as + much as anyone, but we want a collection at every church door after Mass. + That’s what we ought to have, but it’s exactly what we won’t get, because + the priests are West Britons at heart. They would pray for the Queen and + the army to-morrow, like Cardinal Vaughan, if they weren’t afraid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe,’ said Finola, ‘that we went the wrong way about the thing + altogether. We asked for a hospital, and we appealed to the people’s pity + for the wounded Boers. Nobody in Ireland cares a pin about the Boers. Why + on earth should we? From all I can hear they are a narrow-minded, + intolerant set of hypocrites. I’d just as soon read the stuff some fool of + an English newspaper man wrote about “our brother the Boer” as listen to + the maudlin sentiment our people talk. We don’t want to help the Boers. We + want to hurt the English.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you think——’ said Grealy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ went on Finola, ‘that we ought to have asked for volunteers to + go out and fight, instead of nurses to cocker up the men who are fools + enough to get themselves shot. We’d have got them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You would not,’ said Tim. ‘The clergy would have been dead against you. + They would have nipped the whole project in the bud without so much as + making a noise in doing it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s true,’ said Grealy. ‘Remember, Miss Goold, it was the priests who + cursed Tara, and the monks who broke the power of the Irish Kings. I + haven’t worked the thing out yet, but I mean to show——’ + </p> + <p> + Finola interrupted the poor man ruthlessly: + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s try it, anyway. Let’s preach a crusade.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not the least bit of good,’ said Tim. ‘Every blackguard in the country is + enlisted already in the Connaught Bangers or the Dublin Fusiliers, or some + confounded Militia regiment. There’s nobody left but the nice, + respectable, goody-goody boys who wouldn’t leave their mothers or miss + going to confession if you went down on your knees to them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, the Irish troops ought to shoot their officers, and walk over + to the Boer camp,’ said Finola savagely. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth half smiled at what seemed to him a monstrous jest. Then, when he + perceived that she was actually in earnest, the smile froze into a kind of + grin. His hands trembled with the violence of his indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be devilish treachery,’ he blurted out. ‘The name of Irishman + will never be disgraced by such an act.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold flung her cigarette into the grate, and rose from her chair. + She stood over Hyacinth, her hands clenched and her bosom heaving rapidly. + Her eyes blazed down into his until their scorn cowed him. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no treachery possible for an Irishman,’ she said, ‘except the + one of fighting for England. Any deed against England—yes, <i>any</i> + deed—is glorious, and not shameful.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was utterly quelled. He ventured upon no reply. Indeed, not only + did her violence render argument undesirable—and it seemed for the + moment that he would find himself in actual grips with a furious Amazon—but + her words carried with them a certain conviction. It actually seemed to + him while she spoke as if a good defence might be made for Irish soldiers + who murdered their officers and deserted to an enemy in the field. It was + not until hours afterwards, when the vivid impression of Finola’s face had + faded from his recollection, when he had begun to forget the flash of her + eyes, the poise of her figure, and the glow of her draperies, that his + moral sense was able to reassert itself. Then he knew that she had spoken + wickedly. It might be right for an Irishman to fight against England when + he could. It might be justifiable to seize the opportunity of England’s + embarrassment to make a bid for freedom by striking a blow at the Empire. + So far his conscience went willingly, but that treachery and murder could + ever be anything but horrible he refused altogether to believe. + </p> + <p> + Another conversation in which he took part about this time helped Hyacinth + still further to understand the position of his new friends. Tim Halloran + and he were smoking and chatting together over the fire when Maguire + joined them. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Halloran. ‘You look as if you’d been + at your mother’s funeral.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not so far out in your guess,’ said Maguire grimly. ‘I spent the + morning at my sister’s wedding. Would you like a bit of the cake?’ He + produced from his pocket a paper containing crushed fragments of white + sugar and a shapeless mass of citron and currants. ‘With the compliments + of the Reverend Mother,’ he said. ‘Try a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth do you mean?’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I assure you the Sisters of Pity do these things in style,’ said + Maguire. ‘It’s a pretty fancy, that of the wedding-cake, isn’t it? But + you’re a Protestant, Conneally; you don’t understand this delicate + playfulness. I was present to-day at the reception of my only sister into + the Institute of the Catholic Sisters of Pity, founded by Honoria + Kavanagh. I’ve lost Birdie Maguire, that’s all, the little girl that used + to climb on to my knee and kiss me, and instead of her there’s a Sister + Monica Mary, who will no doubt pray for my soul when she’s let.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was the figure in her case?’ asked Tim in a perfectly matter-of-fact + tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Six hundred pounds,’ said Maguire. ‘It must have put the old man to the + pin of his collar to pay it. The only time he ever talked to me about his + affairs he told me he had got four hundred pounds put by for Birdie’s + fortune, and that I was to have my medical course and whatever the old + shop would fetch when he was gone. They must have put the screw on pretty + tight to make him spring the extra two hundred. I dare say I shall suffer + for it in the end. He must have borrowed the money.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt intensely curious about this young nun. Like most + Protestants he had grown up to regard monasticism in all its forms as + something remote, partly horrible, wholly unintelligible. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did she do it?’ he asked. ‘What sort of a girl was she? Do you mind + telling me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ said Maguire. ‘Only I’m not sure that I know. Three + years ago—that is, when I left home—she was the last sort of + girl you could imagine going into a convent. She was pretty, fond of nice + clothes and admiration, as keen as every girl ought to be on a dance. I + never supposed she had a thought of religion in her head—I mean, + beyond the usual confessions and attendances at Mass.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose,’ said Hyacinth, ‘your people wanted it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think so,’ said Maguire. ‘Perhaps my mother did. I don’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, Conneally,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘it is a sort of hall-mark of + respectability among people like Maguire’s to have a girl in a good + convent. A little lower down in the social scale, in the class I come + from, the boys are made priests. A doctor is a more expensive article to + manufacture, so Maguire’s father selected that line of life for him. Not + that they could have made a priest of you, Maguire, in any case. You’d + have disgraced Maynooth, as I did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I thought a vocation for the life + was necessary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, so it is,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘but, you see, there’s the period of + the novitiate. Given a girl at an impressionable age, the proper convent + atmosphere, and a prize of six hundred pounds for the Order, and it will + go hard with the Reverend Mother if she can’t work the girl up to a + vocation. It takes a man a lifetime to make six hundred pounds in a + country shop, but there’s many a one who does it by hard work and + self-denial; then down come the nuns and sweep it away, and it’s wasted. + It ought to be invested in a local factory or in waterworks, or gas-works, + or fifty other things that would benefit the town it’s made in. It ought + to be fructifying and bearing interest; instead of which off it goes to + Munich for stained glass, or to Italy for a marble altar. Is it any wonder + Ireland is crying out with poverty?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Maguire, ‘and that’s not the worst of it. I’d be content to + let them take the damned money and deck their churches with it, but the + girls—there are hundreds of them caught every year for nuns, and + swept out of life. It isn’t the Irish convents alone that get them. + American nuns come over and Australian nuns, and they go round and round + the country picking up girls here and there, and carry them off. There, I + don’t want to talk too much about it. The money is nothing, but the girls + and boys——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems strange to me,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that when you think that way you + should go on belonging to your Church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Desert the Church!’ said Maguire. ‘We’ll never do that. How could we live + without religion? And what other religion is there? I grant you that your + priests wouldn’t rob us, but—but think of the cold of it. You can’t + realize it, Conneally, but think what it would mean to a Catholic—a + religion without saints, without absolution, without sacrifice. Besides, + what we complain of is not Catholicism. It’s a parasitic growth destroying + the true faith, defiling the Church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘and even from my point of view how should we be + the better of a change? Your Church is ruled by old women who think the + name of Englishman the most glorious in the world. You preach loyalty, and + I believe you pray for the Queen in your services. A nice fool I would + feel praying that the Queen should have victory over her enemies.’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time afterwards this conversation dwelt in Hyacinth’s mind. Tim + Halloran he knew to be practically a freethinker, but Maguire regularly + heard Mass on Sundays, and often went to confession. It was a puzzle how + he could do so, feeling as he did about the religious Orders. So insistent + did the problem become to his mind that he found himself continually + leading the conversation round to it from one side or another. Mary + O’Dwyer told him that she also had a sister in a nunnery. + </p> + <p> + ‘She teaches girls to make lace, and wonderful work they do. She is + perfectly happy. I think her face is the sweetest and most beautiful thing + I have ever seen. There is not a line on it of care or of fretfulness. It + seems to me as if her whole life might be described as a quiet smile. I + always feel better by the mere recollection of her face for a long time + after I have visited her. Oh, I know it wouldn’t do for me. I couldn’t + stand it for a week. I should go mad with the quiet restraint of it all. + But my sister is happy. I can’t forget that. I suppose she has a + vocation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Vocation,’ said Hyacinth thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I can understand how that + would make all the difference. But how many of them have the vocation?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you think vocation might be learnt? I mean mightn’t one grow into + it, if one wished to very much, and if the life was constantly before + one’s eyes, beautiful and calm?’ + </p> + <p> + It was almost the same thought which Timothy Halloran had suggested. Mary + O’Dwyer spoke of growing into vocation, Tim of the working of it up. Was + there any difference except a verbal one? + </p> + <p> + On another occasion he spoke to Dr. Henry about the position of the Church + of Ireland in the country. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have proved,’ said the professor, ‘that the Roman claims have no + support in Scripture, history, or reason. Our books remain unanswered, + because they are unanswerable. We can do no more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We might offer the Irish people a Church which they could join,’ said + Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘We do. We offer them the Church of St. Patrick, the ancient, historic + Church of Ireland. We offer them the two Sacraments of the Gospel, + administered by priests duly ordained at the hands of an Episcopate which + goes back in an unbroken line to the Apostles. We present them the three + great creeds for their assent. We use a liturgy that is at once ancient + and pure. The Church of Ireland has all this, is beyond dispute a branch + of the great Catholic Church of Christ.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be all you say,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but it is not national. In + sentiment and sympathy it is English and not Irish.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what you mean,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I think I understand how you + feel, but I cannot consent to the conclusion you want to draw. There is no + real meaning in the cry for nationality. It is a sentiment, a fashion, and + will pass. Even if it were genuine and enduring, I hold it to be better + for Ireland to be an integral part of a great Empire than a contemptible + and helpless item among the nations of the world, a prey to the intrigues + of ambitious foreign statesmen.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth sighed and turned to go, but Dr. Henry laid a hand upon his + shoulder and detained him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Conneally,’ he said kindly, ‘let me give you a word of advice. Don’t mix + yourself up with your new friends too much. You will ruin your own + prospects in life if you do. There is nothing more fatal to a man among + the people with whom you and I are to live and work than the suspicion of + being tainted with Nationalist ideas. You can’t be both a rebel and a + clergyman. You see,’ he added with a smile, ‘I take enough interest in you + to know who your friends are, and what you are thinking about.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Augusta Goold’s scheme for enrolling Irish volunteers to help the Boers + was duly set forth in the next issue of the <i>Croppy</i>. It included two + appeals—one for money and one for men. The details were worked out + with the frank contempt for possibility which characterizes some of the + famous suggestions of Dean Swift. She had the same faculty that he had for + bringing absurdities within the range of the commonplace; but there was + this difference between them—Miss Goold quite believed in her own + plans, while the great Dean no doubt grinned over the proof-sheets of his + ‘Modest Proposal.’ + </p> + <p> + It happened, most unfortunately, that the appeal synchronized with + another, also for funds, which was issued by Mr. O’Rourke, the leader of + the Parliamentary party. Since the death of John O’Neill the purse of the + party had been getting lean. The old tactics which used to draw plaudits + and dollars from the United States, as well as a tribute from every parish + in Ireland, had lately been unsuccessful. There were still violent scenes + in the House of Commons, but they no longer produced anything except + contemptuous smiles. Members of Parliament still succeeded occasionally in + getting the Chief Secretary to imprison them, but the glory of martyrdom + was harder to win than in the old days. Latterly things had come to such a + pass that even the reduced stipends offered to the members fell into + arrear. The attendance at Westminster dropped away. The Government could + afford to smile at Mr. O’Rourke’s efforts to make himself disagreeable, + and the Opposition were frankly contemptuous of a people who could not + profit them by more than a dozen votes in a critical division. It became + impossible to wring even a modest Land Bill from the Prime Minister, and + Mr. Chesney, now much at ease in the Secretary’s office in the Castle, + scarcely felt it necessary to be civil to deputations which wanted + railways. It was clear that something must be done, or Mr. O’Rourke’s + business would disappear. He decided to appeal for funds <i>orbi et urbi</i>. + The world—in this case North America—was to be visited, + exhorted, and, it was hoped, taxed by some of his most eloquent + lieutenants. Even Canada, with its leaven of Orangemen, was to be honoured + with the speeches of an orator of second-rate powers. The city—Dublin, + of course—was the chosen scene of the leader’s personal exertions. + Since his revolt against John O’Neill, O’Rourke had been a little shy of + Dublin audiences, but the pressing nature of the present crisis almost + forced him to pay his court to the capital. He found some comfort in the + recollection that during the five years that had elapsed since O’Neill’s + death he had missed no public opportunity of shedding tears beside his + tomb. He remembered, too, that he had put his name down for a large + subscription towards the erection of a statue to the dead leader, a work + of art which the existing generation seemed unlikely to have the pleasure + of seeing. + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that on the very day of the publication of Miss Goold’s + scheme Mr. O’Rourke announced his intention of addressing an appeal for + funds to a public meeting in the Rotunda. Miss Goold was disconcerted and + irritated. She was well aware that Mr. O’Rourke’s appeal would give the + respectable Nationalists an excellent excuse for ignoring hers, and + unfortunately the respectable people are just the ones who have most + money. She was confident that she could rely on the extreme section of the + Nationalists, and on that element in the city population which loves and + makes a row, but she could not count on the moneyed classes. They were, so + far as their words went, very enthusiastic for the Boer cause; but when it + came to writing cheques, it was likely that the counter-attractions of the + Parliamentary fund would prove too strong. + </p> + <p> + Since it seemed that Mr. O’Rourke would certainly spoil her collection, + the obvious thing to do was to try to spoil his. If he afforded people an + excuse for not paying the travelling expenses of her volunteers to Lorenzo + Marques, she would, if possible, suggest a way of escape from paying for + his men’s journeys to London. After all, no one really wanted to subscribe + to either fund, and it might be supposed that the public would very gladly + keep their purses shut altogether. + </p> + <p> + For an Irishman it is quite possible to be genuinely enthusiastic and at + the same time able to see the humorous side of his own enthusiasm. This is + a reason why an Irishman is never a bore unless, to gain his private ends, + he wants to be. Even an Irish advocate of total abstinence, or an Irish + antivaccinationist, if such a thing exists, is not a bore, because he will + always trot out his conscientious objections with a half-humorous, + half-deprecating smile. This same capacity for avoiding the slavery of + serious fanaticism enables an Irishman to cease quite joyfully from the + pursuit of his own particular fad in order to corner an obnoxious + opponent. Thus Augusta Goold and her friends were genuinely desirous of + striking a blow at England, and really believed that their volunteers + might do it; but this did not prevent them from finding infinite relish in + the prospect of watching Mr. O’Rourke squirming on the horns of a dilemma. + They took counsel together, and the result of their deliberations was + peculiar. They proposed to invite Mr. O’Rourke to join his appeal to + theirs, to pool the money which came in, and to divide it evenly between + the volunteers and the members of Parliament. It was Tim Halloran who hit + upon the brilliant idea. Augusta Goold chuckled over it as she grasped its + consequences. Mr. O’Rourke, Tim argued, would be unwilling to accept the + proposal because he wanted all the money he could get, more than was at + all likely to be collected. He would be equally unwilling to reject it, + because he could then be represented as indifferent to the heroic struggle + of the Boers. In the existing state of Irish and American opinion a + suspicion of such indifference would be quite sufficient to wreck his + chances of getting any money at all. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the obvious way of making such a proposal would have been by + letter to Mr. O’Rourke. Afterwards the correspondence—he must make a + reply of some sort—could be sent to the press, and sufficient + publicity would be given to the matter. This was what Tim Halloran wanted + to do, but such a course did not commend itself to Augusta Goold. It + lacked dramatic possibilities, and there was always the chance that the + leading papers might refuse to take any notice of the matter, or relegate + the letters to a back page and small print. Besides, a mere newspaper + controversy would not make a strong appeal to the section of the Dublin + populace on whose support she chiefly relied. A much more attractive plan + suggested itself. Augusta Goold, with a few friends to act as + aides-de-camp, would present herself to Mr. O’Rourke at his Rotunda + meeting, and put the proposal to him then and there in the presence of the + audience. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the few days before the meeting were occupied in + scattering suggestive seed over the hoardings and blank walls of the city. + One morning people were startled by the sight of an immense placard which + asked in violent red letters, ‘What is Ireland going to do?’ Public + opinion was divided about the ultimate purpose of the poster. The majority + expected the announcement of a new play or novel; a few held that a pill + or a cocoa would be recommended. Next morning the question became more + explicit, and the hypothesis of the play and the pill were excluded. + ‘What,’ the new poster ran, ‘is Ireland going to do for the Boers?’ The + public were not intensely anxious to find an answer to the conundrum + thrust thus forcibly on their attention, but they became curious to know + who the advertisers were who hungered for the information. Men blessed by + Providence with sagacious-looking faces made the most of their + opportunity, and informed their friends that the thing was a new dodge of + O’Rourke’s to get money. Their reputation suffered when the next placard + appeared. The advertisers had apparently changed their minds, for what + they now wanted to know was, ‘What are the Irish M.P.‘s going to do for + the Boers?’ Clearly Mr. O’Rourke could have nothing to gain by insisting + on an answer to such a question. The public were puzzled but pleased. The + bill-stickers of the city foresaw the possibility of realizing a + competence, for the next morning the satisfied inquirers published the + result of their investigations. ‘The Em Pees ‘(it was thus that they now + referred to the honourable members of Parliament) ‘are supporting the + infamies of England.’ It was at this point that the eye of a Castle + official was caught by one of the placards as he made his way to the + Kildare Street Club for luncheon. He discussed the matter with a + colleague, and it occurred to them that since they were paid for governing + Ireland, they ought to give the public some value for their money, and + seize the opportunity of doing something. They sent a series of telegrams + to Mr. Chesney’s London house, which were forwarded by his private + secretary to the Riviera. The replies which followed kept the Castle + officials in a state of pleasurable excitement until quite late in the + evening. At about eight o’clock large numbers of Metropolitan police + sallied out of their barracks and tore down the last batch of placards. + Next morning fresh ones were posted up, each of which bore the single + word, ‘Why?’ The bill-stickers were highly pleased, and many of them were + arrested for drunkenness. Mr. O’Rourke was much less pleased, for he began + to guess what the answer was likely to be, and how it would affect his + chances of securing a satisfactory collection. The officials were + perplexed. They suspected the ‘Why?’ of containing within its three + letters some hideous sedition, but it was not possible to deal vigorously + with what might, after all, be only the cunning novelty of some + advertising manufacturer. More telegrams harried Mr. Chesney, but before + any definite course of action had been decided on the morning of the + Rotunda meeting arrived, and with it an answer to the multifarious ‘Whys’: + Because O’Rourke wants all the money to spend in the London restaurants.’ + There was a great deal of laughter, and many people, quite uninterested in + politics, determined to go to the meeting in hopes of more amusement. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. O’Rourke took the chair the hall was crowded to its utmost + capacity. Under ordinary circumstances this would have augured well for + the success of his appeal, for it showed that the public were at all + events not apathetic. On this particular occasion, however, Mr. O’Rourke + would have been better pleased with a smaller audience. The placards had + shown him that something unpleasant was likely to occur, though they + afforded no hint of the form which the unpleasantness would take. When he + rose to his feet he was greeted with the usual volley of cheers, and + although some rude remarks about the Boers were made in the corners of the + hall, they did not amount to anything like an organized attempt at + interruption. He began his speech cautiously, feeling the pulse of his + audience, and plying them with the well-worn platitudes of the Nationalist + platform. When these evoked the usual enthusiasm he waxed bolder, and shot + out some almost original epigrams directed against the Government, working + up to a really new gibe about officials who sat like spiders spinning + murderous webs in Dublin Castle. The audience were delighted with this, + but their joy reached its height when someone shouted: ‘You might speak + better of the men who tore down the placard on Wednesday.’ Mr. O’Rourke + ignored the suggestion, and passed on to sharpen his wit upon the + landlords. He described them as ‘ill-omened tax-gatherers who suck the + life-blood of the country, and refuse to disgorge a penny of it for any + useful purpose.’ Mr. O’Rourke was not a man who shrank from a mixed + metaphor, or paused to consider such trifles as the unpleasantness which + would ensue if anyone who had been sucking blood were to repent and + disgorge it. ‘Where,’ he went on to ask, ‘do they spend their immense + revenues? Is it in Ireland?’ Here he made one of those dramatic pauses for + which his oratory was famous. The audience waited breathlessly for the + denunciation which was to follow. They were treated, unexpectedly, to a + well-conceived anticlimax. A voice spoke softly, but quite clearly, from + the back of the hall: + </p> + <p> + ‘Bedad, and I shouldn’t wonder if it was in the London restaurants.’ + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter followed. The orator might no doubt have made an + effective reply, but every time he opened his mouth minor wits, rending + like wolves the carcase of the original joke, yelled ‘turtle-soup’ at him, + or ‘champagne and oysters.’ He got angry, and consequently flurried. He + tried to quell the tumult by thundering out the denunciation which he had + prepared. But the delight which the audience took in shrieking the items + of their imaginary bill of fare was too much for him. He forgot what he + had meant to say, floundered, attempted to pull himself together, and + brought out the stale jest about providing each landlord with a single + ticket to Holyhead. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that same,’ said his original tormentor, ‘would be cheaper than + giving you a return ticket to London.’ + </p> + <p> + The audience was immensely tickled. So far the entertainment, if not + precisely novel, was better than anything they had hoped for, and everyone + had an agreeable conviction that there was still something in the way of a + sensation in store. Perhaps it was eagerness for the expected climax which + induced them to keep tolerably quiet during the remainder of Mr. + O’Rourke’s speech. He set forth at some length the glorious achievements + of his party in the past, and explained the opportunities of future + usefulness which lay to be grasped if only the necessary funds were + provided. He sat down to make way, as he assured the audience, for certain + tried and trusty soldiers of the cause who were waiting to propose + important resolutions. So far as these warriors were concerned, he might + as well have remained standing. Their resolutions are to this day + unproposed and uncommended—a secret joy, no doubt, to those who + framed them, but not endorsed by any popular approval. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally was not admitted to the secret councils of Augusta + Goold and her friends. He knew no more than the general public what kind + of a coup was meditated, but he gathered from Miss O’Dwyer’s nervous + excitement and Tim Halloran’s air of immense and mysterious importance + that something quite out of the common was likely to occur. By arriving an + hour and a half before the opening of the meeting he secured a seat near + the platform. He enjoyed the discomfiture of O’Rourke, whom he had learnt + from the pages of the <i>Croppy</i> to despise as a mere windbag, and to + hate as the betrayer of O’Neill. A sudden thrill of excitement went + through him when O’Rourke sat down. The whole audience turned their faces + from the platform towards the door at the far end of the hall, and + Hyacinth, without knowing exactly what he expected, turned too. There was + a swaying visible among the crowd near the door, and almost immediately it + became clear that someone was trying to force a way through the + densely-packed people. Curses were to be heard, and even cries from those + who were being trodden on. At last a way was made. Augusta Goold, followed + by Grealy, Halloran, and Mary O’Dwyer, came slowly up the hall towards the + platform. Those of the audience whose limbs had not been crushed or their + feet mangled in preparation for her progress cheered her wildly. Indeed, + she made a regal appeal to them. Even amidst a crowd of men her height + made her conspicuous, and she had arrayed herself for the occasion in a + magnificent violet robe. It flowed from her shoulders in spacious folds, + and swept behind her, splendidly contemptuous of the part it played as + scavenger amid the accumulated filth of the floor. Her bare arms shone out + of the wide sleeves which hung around them. Her neck rose strong and + stately over the silver clasp of a cloak which she had thrown back from + her shoulders. She wore a hat which seemed to hold her hair captive from + falling loose around her. One great tress alone escaped from it, and by + some cunning manipulation was made to stand straight out, as if blown by + the wind from its fastenings. In comparison her suite looked commonplace + and mean. Poor Miss O’Dwyer was arrayed—‘gowned,’ she would have + said herself in reporting the scene—in vesture not wanting in + splendour, but which beside Miss Goold’s could not catch the eye. Thomas + Grealy, awkward and stooped, peered through his glasses at the crowd. Tim + Halloran walked jauntily, but his eyes glanced nervously from side to + side. He was certainly ill at ease, possibly frightened, at the position + in which he found himself. + </p> + <p> + A hurried consultation took place among the gentlemen on the platform, + which ended in Mr. O’Rourke stepping forward with a smile and an + outstretched hand to welcome Augusta Goold as she ascended the steps. The + expression of his face belied the smile which he had impressed upon his + lips. His eyes had the same look of furtive malice as a dog’s which wants + to bite but fears the stick. Augusta Goold waved aside the proffered hand, + and stepped unaided on to the platform. Mr. O’Rourke placed a chair for + her, but she ignored it and stood, with her followers behind her, facing + the audience. O’Rourke and two of his tried and trusty members of + Parliament approached her. They stood between her and the audience, and + talked to her for some time, apparently very earnestly. Augusta Goold + looked past them, over them, sometimes it seemed through them, while they + spoke, but made them no answer whatever. At last Mr. O’Rourke shrugged his + shoulders, and withdrew to his chair with a sulky scowl. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘to ask a simple question of your chairman.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke rose. + </p> + <p> + ‘This meeting,’ he said, ‘is convened for the purpose of raising funds for + the carrying on of the national business in the House of Commons. If Miss + Goold’s question relates to the business in hand, I shall be most happy to + answer it. If not, I am afraid I cannot allow it to be asked here. At + another time and in another place I shall be prepared to listen to what + Miss Goold has to say, and in the meantime if she will take her seat on + the platform she will be heartily welcome.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My question,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘is intimately connected with the + business of the meeting. It is simply this: Are you, Mr. O’Rourke, + prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the Irish + people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + It was manifestly absurd to ask such a question at all. Mr. O’Rourke had + no intention of collecting money for the Boers, who seemed to have plenty + of their own, and he could not without breach of trust have applied funds + subscribed to feed and clothe members of Parliament to arming volunteers. + Nevertheless, it was an awkward question to answer in the presence of an + audience excited by Augusta Goold’s beauty and splendid audacity. A really + strong man, like, for instance, O’Rourke’s predecessor, John O’Neill, + might have faced the situation, and won, if not the immediate cheers, at + least the respect of the Irish people. But Mr. O’Rourke was not a strong + man, and besides he was out of temper and had lost his nerve. He took + perhaps the worst course open to him: he made a speech. He appealed to his + past record as a Nationalist, and to his publicly reiterated expressions + of sympathy with the Boer cause. He asked the audience to trust him to do + what was right, but he neither said Yes nor No to the question he was + asked. + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold stood calm and impassive while he spoke. A sneer gathered on + her lips and indrawn nostrils as he made his appeal for the people’s + confidence. When he had finished she said, very slowly, and with that + extreme distinctness of articulation which women speakers seem to learn so + much more easily than men: + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the + Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke was goaded into attempting another speech, but the audience + was in no mood to listen to him. He was interrupted again and again with + shouts of ‘Yes or no!’ ‘Answer the question!’ The bantering tone with + which they had plied him earlier in the evening with suggestions for a + menu had changed now into angry insistence. He passed his hand over his + forehead with a gesture of despair, and sat down. At once the tumult + ceased, and the people waited breathless for Augusta Goold to speak again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared’—she seemed to have learnt her question off by + heart—‘to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the + Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shea, a red-headed member of Parliament from Co. Limerick, being + himself one of those most deeply interested in the contents of the party’s + purse, sprang to his feet. It was clear that he was in a condition of + almost dangerous excitement, for he stammered, as he shouted to the + chairman: + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir, is this—this—this woman to be allowed to interrupt the + meeting? I demand her immediate removal.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold smiled at him. It was really a very gracious, almost a + tender, smile. One might imagine the divine Theodora in her earlier days + smiling with just such an expression on a plebeian lover whose passion she + regarded as creditable to him but hopeless. + </p> + <p> + ‘I assure you, Mr. Shea, that I shall not interrupt the business for more + than a minute. Mr. O’Rourke has only got to say one word—either Yes + or No. Are you prepared to give any portion of the funds entrusted to you + by the Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shea was not at all mollified either by the smile or the politeness of + her tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall not permit the meeting to be interrupted any more,’ he shouted. + ‘Either you will withdraw at once, or we shall have you removed by force.’ + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him again—a pitying smile, as if she regretted the + petulance of his manner, and turned to the chairman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared to give——’ + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Shea’s feelings became too strong for his self-control. He sprang + forward, apparently with the intention of laying violent hands upon + Augusta Groold. Hyacinth Conneally started up to protect her, and the same + impulse moved a large part of the audience. There was a rush for the + platform, and a fierce, threatening yell. Mr. Shea hung back, frightened. + Augusta Goold held up her hand, and immediately the rush stopped and the + people were silent. She went on with her question, taking it up at the + exact word which Mr. Shea had interrupted, in the same level and + exquisitely irritating tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘—Any of the money entrusted to you by the Irish people to assist + the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke had sat scowling silently since the failure of his last + attempt to explain himself. This final disjointed repetition of the + galling question roused him to the necessity of doing something. He was a + pitiful sight as he rose and confronted Augusta Goold. There were blotches + of purple red and spaces of pallor on his face; his hands twisted + together; a sweat had broken out from his neck, and made his collar limp. + His words were a stammering mixture of bluster and appeal. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mustn’t—mustn’t—mustn’t interrupt the meeting,’ So far he + tried to assert himself, then, with a glance at the contemptuous face of + the woman before him, he relapsed into the tone of a schoolboy who begs + off the last strokes of a caning. ‘Is this nice conduct? Is it ladylike to + come here and attack us like this? Miss Goold, I’m ashamed of you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad to hear,’ said Augusta Goold, departing for the first time from + her question, ‘that there is anything left in the world that Mr. O’Rourke + is ashamed of. I didn’t think there was.’ + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Shea and not his leader who resented this last insult. His lips + drew apart, leaving his teeth bare in a ghastly grin. He clenched his + fists, and stood for a moment trembling from head to foot. Then he leaped + forward towards Augusta Goold. The man who stood next Hyacinth lurched + suddenly forward, wrenched his right hand free of the crowd round him, and + flung it back behind his head. Hyacinth saw that he held a large stone in + it. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a cowardly blackguard, Shea,’ he yelled—‘a damned, cowardly + blackguard! Would you strike a woman?’ + </p> + <p> + Shea turned on the instant, saw the hand stretched back to fling the + stone. He seized the chair behind him—the very chair which, while an + appearance of politeness was still possible, Mr. O’Rourke had offered to + Augusta Goold—and flung it with all his force at the man with the + stone. One of the legs grazed Hyacinth’s cheek, scraping the skin off. The + corner of the seat struck the man beside him full across the forehead just + above his eyes. The blood poured out, blinding, and then, as he gasped, + choking him. He reeled and huddled together helplessly. He could not fall, + for the pressure of the crowd round him held him up. Hyacinth felt his + hands groping wildly as if for support, and reached out his own to grasp + him. But the man wanted no help for himself. As soon as he felt another + hand touch his he pressed the stone into it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t see,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Take it, you, and kill him, kill + him, kill him! smash his skull!’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth took the stone. The feel of the man’s blood warm on it and the + fierce yelling and stamping of the crowd filled him with a mad lust of + hate against Shea, who stood as if suddenly paralyzed within a few feet of + him. He wrenched his hand free, and with a mighty effort flung the stone. + He saw it strike Shea fair on the forehead. In spite of the tumult around + him, he fancied he heard the dull thud of its impact. He saw Shea fling up + his hands and pitch forward. He saw Augusta Goold gather her skirts in her + hand, and sweep them swiftly aside lest the man should fall on them. Then + the crowd pressing towards the platform swept him off his feet, and he was + tossed helplessly forward. A giddy sickness seized him. The pressure + slackened for an instant, and he fell. Someone’s boot struck him on the + head. He felt without any keen regret that he was likely to be trampled to + death. Then he lost consciousness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Next morning the Dublin daily papers laid themselves out to make the most + of the sensational fight at the Rotunda. Even the habitually cautious <i>Irish + Times</i> felt that the occasion justified the expression of an opinion, + and that there would be no serious risk of alienating the sympathies of + subscribers and advertisers by condemning the bloodshed. It published an + exceedingly dignified and stodgy leading article, drawing the largest and + finest words from the dictionary, and weaving them with extraordinary art + into sentences which would have been creditable to anyone bent upon + imitating the style of Dr. Samuel Johnson. The British Empire and the + whole of civilized Europe were called upon to witness the unspeakably + deplorable consequences which invariably followed the habitual neglect of + the cultivation of the elementary decencies of public life. The paper + disclaimed any sympathy with either of the belligerent parties, and + pointed out with sorrowful solemnity that if the principles sedulously + inculcated upon its readers in its own columns were persistently flouted + and contemned by those who claimed the position of national + representatives, little else except a repetition at frequent intervals of + the painful and humiliating scenes of the night before could possibly be + anticipated by reasonable observers of the general trend of democratic + institutions. The <i>Daily Express</i> openly exulted over the rioters. + Its leading article—the staff may have danced in a ring round the + office table while composing it—declared that now at length the + Irish had proved to the world that they were all, without a solitary + exception, irredeemably vicious corner-boys. Miss Augusta Goold was warmly + praised for having demonstrated once for all that ‘patriotism’ ought to be + written ‘Pat riotism.’ Deep regret was expressed that those who attended + the meeting had not been armed with revolvers instead of stones, and that + the platform had not been defended with Maxim guns instead of + comparatively innocuous wooden chairs. Had modern weapons of precision + been used the <i>Daily Express</i> would have been able to congratulate + mankind on getting rid of quite a considerable number of Irishmen. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Freeman’s Journal</i> and the <i>Daily Independent</i> were + awkwardly situated. Their sympathies were entirely with Mr. O’Rourke, and + they were exceedingly angry with Miss Goold for interfering with the + collection of funds for the Parliamentary party. At the same time, they + felt a difficulty in denouncing her, not for want of suitable language—the + Irish Nationalist press has a superb command of words which a + self-respecting dictionary would hesitate to recognise—but because + they felt that push of the horns of the dilemma on which O’Rourke had been + impaled, and they were obliged to sand their denunciations between layers + of stoutest pro-Boer sentiment. + </p> + <p> + All four papers contained reports of the proceedings which were + practically identical up to a certain point. It was about the commencement + of the actual bloodshed that they differed. The <i>Irish Times</i> + reporter believed that Mr. Shea had begun the fray by striking Augusta + Goold behind the ear with his clenched fist. The <i>Daily Express</i> man + claimed to have overheard Mr. O’Rourke urging his friends to brain a + member of the audience with a chair. The <i>Freeman’s Journal</i> held + that Augusta Goold’s supporters had come into the hall supplied with huge + stones, which, at a given signal, they had flung at the inoffensive + members of Parliament who occupied the platform, adding, as a + corroborative detail, that the lady who accompanied Augusta Goold had + twice kicked the prostrate Mr. Shea in the stomach. The <i>Daily + Independent</i> advanced the ingenious theory that the contest had been + precipitated by a malevolent student of Trinity College, who had flung an + apple of discord—on this occasion a jagged paving-stone of unusual + size—into the midst of a group of ladies and gentlemen who were + peacefully discussing a slight difference of opinion among themselves. + Beyond this point none of the papers gave any account of the proceedings, + all four reporters having recognised that, not being retained as war + correspondents, they were not called upon to risk their lives on the + battlefield. The accounts all closed with the information that the wounded + had been carried to Jervis Street Hospital, and were under treatment + suitable to their injuries. Hyacinth had suffered a slight concussion of + the brain and a flesh wound. Other sufferers were in the same ward, Mr. + Shea himself occupying a bed, so that Hyacinth had the satisfaction of + seeing him stretched out, a melancholy figure, with a bandage concealing + most of his red hair. After the surgeon had finished his rounds for the + morning a police official visited the sufferers, and made a careful note + of their names and addresses. He inquired in a perfunctory manner whether + any of them wished to swear an information. No one, except Mr. Shea, was + sufficiently satisfied with his own share of the meeting to wish for more + fame than was unavoidable. As no further use was ever made of Mr. Shea’s + narrative, it may be presumed that the authorities regarded it as wanting + in accuracy. No blame, however, ought to be attached to the author for any + petty deviation from the truth of which he may have been guilty. No man’s + mind is perfectly clear on the morning after he has been struck on the + head with a stone, and perhaps afterwards kicked twice in the stomach by a + lady journalist. Besides, all members of Parliament are, in virtue of + their office, ‘honourable gentlemen.’ + </p> + <p> + An excited and sympathetic nurse provided Hyacinth with copies of the four + morning papers, which he read with interest and a good deal of amusement. + Only the account in the <i>Daily Independent</i> caused him any + uneasiness. No doubt, as he fully recognised, the suggestion about the + Trinity student was nothing but a wild guess on the part of the reporter. + It was highly unlikely that anyone would seriously consider a theory so + intrinsically improbable. Still, if the faintest suspicion of the part he + had played reached the ears of the college authorities, he felt that his + career as a divinity student was likely to be an extremely brief one. His + chief fear was that a prolonged absence from college would give rise to + inquiry, and that his bandages would excite suspicion when he reappeared. + Fortunately, the house surgeon decided that he was sufficiently recovered + to be allowed to leave the hospital early in the afternoon. The boot which + had put an end to his share in the riot had raised its bruise under his + hair, so he was able to remove the bandages from his head as soon as he + got into the street. There still remained a long strip of plaster meant to + keep a dressing of iodoform in its place over the cut on his cheek which + Mr. Shea’s chair-leg had inflicted. This he could not get off, and + thinking it wiser to make his entry into college after nightfall, he + sought a refuge in Mary O’Dwyer’s rooms. + </p> + <p> + He found the poetess laid on a sofa and clad in a blue dressing-gown. She + stretched a hand of welcome to Hyacinth, and then, before he had time to + take it, began to laugh immoderately. The laughing fit ended in sobs, and + then tears flowed from her eyes, which she mopped convulsively with an + already damp pocket-handkerchief. Before she had recovered sufficient + self-possession to speak, she signed to Hyacinth to fetch a bottle of + smelling-salts from the chimney-piece. He hastened to obey, and found + himself kneeling beside the sofa, holding the bottle to her nose. After a + while she recovered sufficiently to tell him that she had not slept at all + during the night, and felt extremely unwell and quite unstrung in + consequence. Another fit of immoderate and tearful laughter followed, and + Hyacinth, embarrassed and alarmed, fetched a tumbler of soda-water from + the syphon on the sideboard. The lady refused to swallow any, and, just as + he had made up his mind to risk an external application, recovered again. + During the lucid interval which followed she informed him that his own + conduct had been superb and heroic. What seemed to be an effort to + celebrate his achievements in extemporary verse brought on another fit. + Hyacinth determined to risk an appearance in the college square in broad + daylight rather than continue his ministrations. While he was searching + for his hat Miss O’Dwyer became suddenly quite calm, and began to explain + to him how immensely the cause of Ireland’s independence had benefited by + the demonstration in the Rotunda. Hyacinth listened anxiously, waiting for + the next explosion, and experienced very great relief when the door opened + and Augusta Goold walked in. + </p> + <p> + Unlike Mary O’Dwyer, she was entirely mistress of herself. Her cheeks were + not a shade paler than usual, nor her hand at all less cool and firm. She + stretched herself, after her usual fashion, in the largest available chair + and lit a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + ‘You look excited, my dear Mary,’ she said—‘a little overexcited, + perhaps. Have you had tea? No? Perhaps you will be so kind as to ring the + bell, Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Mary O’Dwyer repeated the information she had given Hyacinth about her + sleepless night, and complimented Augusta Goold on her nerve. + </p> + <p> + ‘As for poor little me,’ she went on, ‘I’m like a—like a—you + remember the kind of thing, don’t you?—like a—I’m not sure if + I know the name of the thing myself.’ + </p> + <p> + She relapsed into a weak giggle, and Hyacinth stooped for the bottle of + smelling-salts, which had rolled under the sofa. Augusta Goold was much + less sympathetic. She fixed her with a strong stare of amazement and + disgust. Apparently this treatment was the right one, for the giggling + stopped almost immediately. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see you have got some sticking-plaster on your face, Mr. Conneally,’ + she said, when Mary O’Dwyer had quieted down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and a good-sized bump behind my ear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose this business will be very awkward for you in college. Will + they turn you out?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sure they will if they find out that I threw that stone at Shea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You made a very good shot,’ said Augusta, smiling at the recollection. + ‘But how on earth did you come to have a stone that size in the hall with + you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth told the story of the man who had been felled by the chair and + his murderous bequest. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the proper spirit,’ said Augusta. ‘I admire that man, and he + couldn’t have passed his stone on to better hands than yours. Shea went + down as if he had been shot. I was afraid of my life he would clutch at my + skirts as he fell or squirm up against me after he was down. But he lay + quite still. By the way, Mary, I suppose your dress was ruined?’ + </p> + <p> + Mary O’Dwyer was quite subdued. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was torn,’ she said meekly enough. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you another one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I have. I’ve three others, besides some old ones.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, you’d better go and put on one of them. An old one will do. + It’s disgusting to see a woman slopping about in a dressing-gown at this + time of day. I’ll have tea ready when you come back.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer obeyed sulkily. She wished very much that Augusta Goold had + stopped at home. It would have been a great deal pleasanter to have gone + on practising hysterics with Hyacinth as a sympathetic spectator. When the + door was shut Augusta Goold turned to Hyacinth again. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the worst of women’—apparently she did not consider herself + as one of the sex—‘they are all right at the time (nothing could + have been better than Mary’s behaviour at the meeting), but they collapse + afterwards in such idiotic ways. But I want to talk to you about yourself. + I owe you a good turn for what you did last night. Only for you, I think + Shea would have dared to touch me, and then very likely I should have + killed him, and there might have been trouble afterwards.’ She spoke quite + calmly, but Hyacinth had very little doubt that she meant exactly what she + said. ‘Grealy of course, was useless. One might have expected him to give + utterance to an ancient tribal war-cry, but he didn’t even do that. Tim + Halloran got frightened when the row began. I noticed him dodging about + behind Mary and me, and I mean to let him know what I think about him. + It’s you I have to thank, and I won’t forget it. If you get into trouble + over this business in college, come to me, and I will see you straight. In + fact, if you like to give up the divinity student business at once, I dare + say I can put you in the way of earning an honester livelihood.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was gratified at the way Augusta Goold spoke to him. Since the + evening on which he had given his opinion about the morality of desertion + and murder he had been conscious of a coolness in her manner. Now he had + apparently reinstated himself in her good graces. Praise, even for an act + he was secretly ashamed of, and gratitude, though he by no means + recognised that he deserved it, were pleasant to him. He promised to + remember the offer of help, but declined for the present to commit his + future to the keeping of so bloodthirsty a patroness. + </p> + <p> + Curiously enough, Hyacinth’s reception in college was a great deal more + cordial after the Rotunda meeting than it had ever been before. For a + while the battle which had been fought at their doors superseded the + remoter South African warfare as a topic of conversation among the + students. Their sympathies were with Augusta Goold. Even members of the + divinity classes suffered themselves to be lured from their habitual + worship of respectability so far as to express admiration for the dramatic + picturesqueness of the part she played. It is true that the lady herself + was called by names universally resented by women, and that the broadest + slanders were circulated about her character. Still, a halo of glory hung + round her. It was felt that she had done a surprisingly courageous thing + when she faced Mr. O’Rourke on his own platform. Also, she had behaved + with a certain dignity, neither throwing chairs nor stones at her + opponents. Then, she was an undeniably beautiful woman, a fact which made + its inevitable appeal to the young men. The mere expression of sympathy + with this flamboyant and scandal-smeared heroine brought with it a + delightful flavour of gay and worldly vice. It was pretty well known that + Hyacinth was a friend of Miss Goold’s, and it was rumoured that he had + earned his piece of sticking-plaster in her defence. No one knew exactly + what he had done or how much he had suffered, but a great many men were + anxious to know. Very much to his own surprise, he received a number of + visitors in his rooms. Men who had been the foremost of his tormentors + came, ostensibly to inquire for his health, in reality to glean details of + the fight at the Rotunda. Certain medical students of the kind which glory + in any kind of row openly congratulated him on his luck in being present + on such an occasion. Men who claimed to be fast, and tried to impress + their acquaintances with the belief that they indulged habitually in wild + scenes of revelry, courted Hyacinth, and boasted afterwards of their + second-hand acquaintance with Miss Goold. It became the fashion to be seen + arm-in-arm with him in the quadrangle, and to inquire from him in public + for ‘Finola.’ + </p> + <p> + This new popularity by no means pleased Hyacinth. He was not at all proud + of his share in the Rotunda meeting, and lived in daily dread of being + recognised as the assailant of Mr. Shea. He knew, too, that he was making + no way with the better class of students. The men whose faces he liked + were more than ever shy of making his acquaintance. The sub-lecturers and + minor professors in the divinity school were coldly contemptuous in their + manner, and it seemed to him that even Dr. Henry was less friendly. He + became desperately anxious to get out of a position which he found more + intolerable than the original isolation. He applied himself with extreme + diligence to his studies, even affecting an interest, unnatural for the + most pious, in the expositions given by learned doctors of the Thirty-nine + Articles. At lectures on Church history he made notes about the vagaries + of heretics so assiduously that the professor began to hope that there + existed one student at least who took an interest in the Christological + controversies of the sixth century. He never ventured back again to the + Wednesday prayer-meeting, but he performed many attendances beyond the + required minimum at the college chapel. Morning after morning he dragged + himself from his bed and hurried across the dusky quadrangle to take his + part in the mutilated matins with which the college authorities see fit to + usher in the day. He even went to hear the sermons delivered on Friday + afternoons, homilies so painful that the preachers themselves recognise an + extraordinary merit in enduring them, and allow that submission of the + ears to one of them is to be reckoned as equal to two ordinary acts of + devotion. + </p> + <p> + It is to be hoped that Hyacinth derived some remote benefit from the + discipline to which he subjected himself, for the immediate results were + not satisfactory. He seemed no nearer winning the respect of the more + serious students, and Dr. Henry’s manner showed no signs of softening into + friendliness. His surfeit of theology bred in him a dislike of the + subject. The solemn platitudes which were posed as expositions of the + creeds affected his mind much as the expurgated life histories of maiden + aunts do the newly-emancipated school-girl. The relentless closing in of + argument upon a single previously settled doctrine woke in him a desire to + break through at some point and breathe again in the open. He began to + fear that he was becoming hopelessly irreligious. His morning devotions in + the foggy atmosphere of the chapel did not touch the capacity for + enthusiasm within him. The vague splendour of his father’s meditations had + left him outside, indeed, but sure that within there lay a great reality. + But now religion had come to seem an altogether narrower thing, a fenced + off, well-ordered garden in which useful vegetables might be cultivated, + but very little inspiring to the soul. + </p> + <p> + The unwelcome attention of the students whose friendship he did not + desire, and his increasing dislike for the work he was expected to do, led + him to spend more and more of his time with Augusta Goold and her friends. + He found in their society that note of enthusiasm which he missed in the + religion of the college. He responded warmly to their passionate devotion + to the dream of an independent Irish Republic. He felt less conscious of + his want of religion in their company. With the exception of Augusta Goold + herself, the members of the coterie were professedly Roman Catholics; but + this made little or no difference in their intercourse with him. What he + found in their ideals was a substitute for religion, a space where his + enthusiasm might extend itself. He became, as he realized his own position + clearly, very doubtful whether he ought to continue his college course. It + did not seem likely that he would in the end be able to take Holy Orders, + and to remain in the divinity school without that intention was clearly + foolish. On the other hand, he shrank from inflicting what he knew would + be a painful disappointment on his father. It happened that before the + term ended his connection with the divinity school was cut in a way that + saved him from the responsibility of forming a decision. + </p> + <p> + He was a regular attendant at the lectures of Dr. Spenser, who had never + from the first disguised his dislike and contempt for Hyacinth. This + gentleman was one day explaining to his class the difference between + evidence which leads to a high degree of probability and a demonstration + which produces absolute certainty. The subject was a dry one, and quite + unsuited to Dr. Spenser, whose heart was set on maintaining a reputation + for caustic wit. He cast about for an illustration which would at once + make clear the distinction and enliven his lecture. His eye lit upon + Hyacinth, upon whose cheek there still burned a long red scar. Dr. + Spenser’s face brightened. + </p> + <p> + ‘For instance, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘if I should reason from the fact that + our friend Mr. Conneally affects the society of certain charming ladies of + doubtful reputation, like Miss Goold, to the conclusion that Mr. Conneally + is himself a Nationalist, I should only have arrived at a probable + conclusion. The degree of probability might be very high; still, I should + have no right to regard my conclusion as absolutely certain.’ + </p> + <p> + The class tittered delightedly. Dr. Spenser proceeded without heeding a + deep flush on Hyacinth’s face, which might have warned a wiser man that an + explosion was coming. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I should then proceed to reason thus: All Nationalists are rebels and + potential murderers—Mr. Conneally is a Nationalist; therefore Mr. + Conneally is a rebel and potential murderer—I should, assuming the + truth of my minor premise, have arrived at a certainty.’ + </p> + <p> + The syllogism was greeted with loud applause. Hyacinth started to his + feet. For a time he could only gasp for breath to utter a reply, and Dr. + Spenser, secure in the conviction of his own intellectual and social + superiority to the son of a parson from Connemara, determined to pursue + his prey. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does Mr. Conneally,’ he asked with a simper, ‘propose to impugn the + accuracy of my induction or the logic of my deduction?’ + </p> + <p> + The simper and the number of beautiful long words which Dr. Spenser had + succeeded in collecting together into one sentence provoked a sustained + clapping of hands and stamping of feet from the class. Hyacinth rapidly + regained his self-possession, and was surprised at his own coolness when + he replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘I should say, sir, that a man who makes an induction holding up a lady to + ridicule is probably a cad, and that the cad who makes a deduction + confusing patriotism with murder is certainly a fool.’ + </p> + <p> + A report of Hyacinth’s speech was handed to Dr. Henry, with a suggestion + that expulsion from the divinity school was the only suitable punishment. + Hyacinth did not look forward with any pleasure to the interview to which + he was summoned. He was agreeably surprised when he entered the + professor’s room. Dr. Henry offered him a chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hear,’ he said—his tone was severe, but a barely perceptible + gleam of humorous appreciation flashed across his eyes as he spoke—‘that + you have been exceedingly insolent to Dr. Spenser.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, sir, whether you heard the whole story, but if you did you + will surely recognise that Dr. Spenser was gratuitously insulting to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I recognise that, but the question is, What + am I to do with you now? What would you do if you were in my place? I + should like to know your views of the best way out of the situation.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ Dr. Henry went on, ‘we can’t have our divinity lecturers called + fools and cads before their classes. I should be afraid myself to deliver + a lecture in your presence if I thought I was liable to that kind of + interruption.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think, sir,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that the best thing will be for me to + leave the divinity school.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so, too. But leaving our divinity school need not mean that you + give up the idea of taking Holy Orders. I have a very high opinion of your + abilities, Conneally—so high that I should not like the Church to + lose your services. At the same time, you are not at present the kind of + man whom I could possibly recommend to any Irish Bishop. Your Nationalist + principles are an absolute bar to your working in the Church of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder, sir, how you can call our Church the Church of Ireland, and in + the same breath say that there is no room for a Nationalist in her. Don’t + the two things contradict each other.’ + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry’s eyes twinkled again. There spread over his mouth a smile of + tolerant amusement. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, I’m not going to let you trap me into a discussion of that + question. Theoretically, I have no doubt you would make out an excellent + case. National Church, National spirit, National politics—Irish + Church, Irish nation, Irish ideas. They all go excellently together, don’t + they? And yet the facts are as I state them. A Nationalist clergyman in + the Church of Ireland would be just as impossible as an English + Nonconformist in the Court of Louis Quatorze. After all, in this life one + has got to steer one’s course among facts, and they’re sharp things which + knock holes in the man who disregards them. Now, what I propose to you is + this: Put off your ordination for three years or so. Take up + schoolmastaring. I will undertake to get you a post in an English school. + Your politics won’t matter over there, because no one will in the least + understand what you mean. Work hard, think hard, read hard. Mix with the + bigger world across the Channel. See England and realize what England is + and what her Empire means. Don’t be angry with me for saying that, long + before the three years are over, you’ll have come to see that what you + call patriotism is nothing else than parochialism of a particularly narrow + and uninstructed kind. Then come back here to me, and I’ll arrange for + your ordination. You’ll do the best of good work when you’ve grown up a + bit, and I’ll see you a Bishop before I die.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall always be grateful to you,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I shall never forget + your kindness, and the way you’ve treated me; but I can’t do what you + ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’m not going to take no for an answer,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘Go home to + the West and think it over. Talk to your father about your future. Write + to me if you like about your plans, and remember my offer is open six + months or a year hence. You’ll be the same man then that you are now—I + mean, in character. I’m not afraid of your turning out badly. You may + think wrong-headedly, but I’m sure you’ll not act disgracefully.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + The December afternoon was growing dark when the weary car-horse + surmounted the last hill on the road from Clifden and broke into a + shambling trot down the long straight stretch into Carrowkeel. Soon, as + the distance dwindled, the lights which twinkled here and there in the + village became distinguishable. This—Hyacinth recognised it—was + the great hanging lamp in the window of Rafferty’s shop. That, a softer + glow, came from the forge of Killeen, the smith. That, and that, fainter + and more uncertain lights, were from fires seen through the open upper + section of cottage doors. He could almost tell whose the cabins were where + they shone. The scene inside rose to the imagination. A man with ragged + clothes and a half-empty pipe is squeezed into the stone nook beside the + blazing turf. The kettle, hanging from its hook, swings steaming beside + him. The woman of the house, barefooted, sluttish, in torn crimson + petticoat and gray bodice pinned across her breast, moves the red cinders + from the lid of the pot-oven and peers at the browning cake within. Babies + toddle or crawl over the greasy floor. The car rattled into the village + street. Men whom he knew stopped it to speak to him. Children playing the + last of their games in the fading light paused to stare at him. Father + Moran, returning to his presbytery, waved his hand and shouted a greeting. + He passed the last house of the village, and could see the fishing-boats, + dim and naked-looking, riding at their anchors in the bay. Out beyond + them, grim and terrible in the twilight, lay the hulk where the ice for + fish-packing was stored. The thick stump of her one remaining mast made a + blacker bar against the black sky. The pier was deserted, but he could see + the bulky stacks of fish-boxes piled on it, and hear the water lapping + against it. Along its utmost edge lay a belt of gray white, where the + waves broke as they surged round it. He passed the pier, and there lay + before him the long hill that led home. The church and the ruined school + stood out clearly on the skyline. Below them, less clearly seen, was the + rectory, and Hyacinth noted that the lamp in the kitchen was lit. Then the + door was opened, and he saw, plain against the light, a man’s figure, his + father’s. No doubt the old man was watching and listening. Perhaps the + sound of the wheels reached him through the evening air, for in a few + minutes he came out and walked down the drive. Hyacinth saw him fumble + with the fastening of the rickety gate, and at last open it slowly and + with difficulty. The car reached a gap in the loose stone wall, a familiar + gap, for across it lay a short cut up a steeper part of the hill, which + the road went round. Hyacinth jumped down and ran up the path. In another + minute the greeting of father and son was accomplished, and the two were + walking hand-in-hand towards the house. Hyacinth noticed that his father + trembled, and that his feet stumbled uncertainly among the loose stones + and stiff weeds. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the lighted room he saw that his father seemed older—many + years older—than when he had said good-bye to him two months before. + His skin was very transparent, his lips were tremulous, his eyes, after + the first long look at his son, shifted feebly to the fire, the table, and + the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear son,’ he said, ‘I thank God that I have got you safe home again. + Indeed, it is good to see you again, Hyacinth, for it has been very lonely + while you were away. I have not been able to do very much lately or to go + out to the seashore, as I used to. Perhaps it is only that I have not + cared to. But I have tried hard to get everything ready for your coming.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked round the room with evident pride as he spoke. Hyacinth followed + his gaze, and it was with a sense of deep shame that he found himself + noticing the squalor of his home. The table was stained, and the books + which littered half of it were thick with dust and grease-spotted. The + earthen floor was damp and pitted here and there, so that the chairs stood + perilously among its inequalities. The fine white powder of turf ashes lay + thick upon the dresser. The whitewash above the fireplace was blackened by + the track of the smoke that had blown out of the chimney and climbed up to + the still blacker rafters of the roof. Hyacinth remembered how he, and not + his father, had been accustomed to clean the room and wash the cups and + plates. He wondered how such matters had been managed in his absence, and + a great sense of compassion filled his eyes with tears as he thought of + the painful struggle which the details of life must have brought upon his + father. He noted the evident preparations for his coming. There were two + eggs lying in a saucer ready to be boiled, a fresh loaf—and this was + not the day they got their bread—and a small tin of cocoa beside his + cup. The hearth was piled with glowing turf, and the iron tripod with a + saucepan on it stood surrounded with red coals. Some sense of what + Hyacinth was feeling passed into his father’s mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it all right, my son? I tried to make it very nice for you. I + wanted to get Maggie Cassidy up from the village for the day, but her baby + had the chin-cough, and she couldn’t come.’ + </p> + <p> + He took Hyacinth’s hand and held it while he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it looks poor to you,’ he went on, ‘after your college rooms and + the houses your friends live in; but it’s your own home, son, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made a gulp at the emotion which had brought him near to tears. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s splendid, father—simply splendid. And now I’m going to boil + those two eggs and make the cocoa, and we’ll have a feast. Hallo! you’ve + got some jam—jam and butter and eggs, and this is the month of + December, when there’s hardly a hen laying or a cow milking in the whole + parish!’ + </p> + <p> + He held up the jam-pot as he spoke. It was wrapped in dingy red paper, and + had a mouldy damp stain on one side. Hyacinth recognised the mark, and + remembered that he had seen the identical pot on the upper shelf of + Rafferty’s shop for years. Its label bore an inscription only vaguely + prophetic of the contents—‘Irish Household Jam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right, father, you are supporting home manufacture. I declare I + wouldn’t have tasted it if it had come from England. You see, I’m a + greater patriot than ever.’ + </p> + <p> + Old Mr. Conneally smiled in a feeble, wavering way. He seemed scarcely to + understand what was being said to him, but he found a quiet pleasure in + the sound of his son’s voice. He settled himself in a chair by the + fireside and watched contentedly while Hyacinth put the eggs into the + saucepan, hung the kettle on its hook, and cut slices of bread. Then the + meal was eaten, Hyacinth after his long drive finding a relish even in the + household jam. He plied his father with questions, and heard what the old + man knew of the gossip of the village—how Thady Durkan had broken + his arm, and talked of giving up the fishing; how the police from + Letter-frack had found, or said they found, a whisky-still behind the old + castle; how a Gaelic League organizer had come round persuading the people + to sing and dance at the Galway Féis. + </p> + <p> + After supper Hyacinth nerved himself to tell the story of his term in + college, and his determination to leave the divinity school. More than + once he made an effort to begin, but the old man, who brightened a little + during their meal, relapsed again into dreaminess, and did not seem to be + listening to him. They pulled their chairs near to the fire, and Mr. + Conneally sat holding his son’s hand fast. Sometimes he stroked or patted + it gently, but otherwise he seemed scarcely to recognise that he was not + alone. His eyes were fixed on the fire, but they stared strangely, as if + they saw something afar off, something not in the room at all. There was + no response in them when Hyacinth spoke, and no intelligence. From time to + time his lips moved slightly as if they were forming words, but he said + nothing. After awhile Hyacinth gave up the attempt to tell his story, and + sat silent for so long that in the end he was startled when his father + spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hyacinth, my son, I have somewhat to say unto you.’ Before Hyacinth could + reply to him he continued: ‘And the young man answered and said unto him, + “Say on.” And the old man lifted up his voice and said unto his son, “He + that hath ears to hear, let him hear.”’ + </p> + <p> + He spoke as if he were reading out of a book some narrative from the + Bible. Hyacinth realized suddenly that the communication which was to be + made to him had been rehearsed by his father alone, again and again, that + statement, question and reply, would follow each other in due sequence + from the same lips. He felt that his father was still rehearsing, and had + forgotten the real presence of his son. He grasped the hand that held him + and shook it, saying sharply: + </p> + <p> + ‘Father, father, I am here. Don’t you know me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, my son. Surely I know you. There is something I want to tell + you. I have wanted to tell it to you for many days. I am glad that you are + here now to listen to it.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused, and Hyacinth feared that he would relapse again into dreamy + insensibility; but he did not. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to pray before I speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + He knelt down as Hyacinth had seen him kneel a thousand times before, + facing the eastward-looking window, now a black, uncurtained square in the + whitewashed wall. What he said was almost unintelligible. There was no + petition nor even any sequence of ideas which could be traced. He poured + forth a series of ejaculations expressive of intense and rapturous + delight, very strange to listen to in such a place and from an old man’s + lips. Then the language he spoke changed from English into Gaelic, and + there came a kind of hymn of adoration. His sentences followed each other + in metrical balance like the Latin of the old liturgies, and suited + themselves naturally to a subdued melody, half chant, half cry, like the + mourning of the keeners round a grave. At last, rising from his knees, he + spoke, and his voice became wholly unemotional, devoid of fervour or + excitement. He told his story as a man might relate some quite commonplace + incident of daily life. + </p> + <p> + ‘One evening I was sitting here by the fire, just as I always sit. I + remember that the lamp was not lit, and that the fire was low, so that + there was not much light in the room. It came into my mind that it was + just out of such gloom that the Lord called “Samuel, Samuel,” and I wished + that I was like Samuel, so innocent that I could hear the voice of the + Lord. I do not remember what I thought of after that. Perhaps for a time I + did not think at all. Then I felt that there were arms about my neck; but + not like your arms, Hyacinth, when you were a child and clung to me. These + were arms which held me lovingly, strongly, protectingly, like—do + you remember, Hyacinth?—“His right hand is under my head; His left + hand doth embrace me.” I sat quite still, and did not move or speak or + even breathe, lest He should go away from me. Then, after a long time—I + knew afterwards that the time was long, though then it seemed only a + minute for the joy that I had in it—He told me—I do not mean + that I heard a voice or any words; I did not hear, I <i>felt</i> Him tell + me—the things that are to be. The last great fight, the Armageddon, + draweth very near. All that is good is on one side in the fight, and the + Captain over all. What is bad is on the other side—all kinds of + tyranny and greed and lust. I did not hear these words, but I felt the + things, only without any fear, for round me were the everlasting arms. And + the battlefield is Ireland, our dear Ireland which we love. All these + centuries since the great saints died He has kept Ireland to be His + battlefield. I understood then how our people have been saved from riches + and from power and from the opportunities of lust, that our soil out of + all the world might be fit for the feet of the great Captain, for the + marching of His horsemen and His chariots. Not even when I knew all this + did I desire to share in the conflict. I am old and feeble, but that is + not the reason why there was no desire on me, for strength is in His power + to give to whom He wills. I did not desire it, because I was quite happy, + being safe with Him.’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time after he ceased speaking there was silence, for Hyacinth + had no comment to offer. At last the old man spoke again. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is all. I have no other word of revelation. But I have wondered + since how men are to be disentangled from their parties and their churches + and their nations, and gathered simply into good and bad. Will all men who + are good just know the Captain when they see Him and range themselves with + Him? But why should we think about such things as these? Doubtless He can + order them. But you, Hyacinth—will you be sure to know the good side + from the bad, the Captain from the enemy?’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time after he had gone to bed Hyacinth lay awake haunted by his + father’s prophecy of an Armageddon. There was that in his nature which + responded eagerly to such a call to battle. In the presence of enthusiasm + like his father’s or like Augusta Goold’s, Hyacinth caught fire. His mind + flamed with the idea of an Independent Ireland resplendent with her + ancient glories. He embraced no less eagerly the thought of his father’s + battle and his own part in it. Groping for points of contact between the + two enthusiasms, he caught at the conception of the Roman Church as the + Antichrist and her power in Ireland as the point round which the fight + must rage. Then with a sudden flash he saw, not Rome, but the British + Empire, as the embodiment of the power of darkness. He had learned to + think of it as a force, greedy, materialistic, tyrannous, grossly + hypocritical. What more was required to satisfy the conception of evil + that he sought for? He remembered all that he had ever heard from Augusta + Goold and her friends about the shameless trickery of English statesmen, + about the insatiable greed of the merchants, about the degraded sensuality + of the workers. He recalled the blatant boastfulness with which English + demagogues claimed to be the sole possessors of enlightened consciences, + and the tales of native races exploited, gin-poisoned, and annihilated by + pioneers of civilization advancing with Bibles in their hands. + </p> + <p> + But with all his capacity for enthusiasm there was a strain of weakness in + Hyacinth. More than once after the glories of an Independent Ireland had + been preached to him he had found himself growing suddenly cold and + dejected, smitten by an east wind of common-sense. At the time when he + first recognised the loftiness of his father’s religion he had revolted + against being called upon to adopt so fantastic a creed. So now, when his + mind grew weary with the endeavour to set an Armageddon in array, he began + to wish for a life of peaceful monotony, a place to be quiet in, where no + high calls or imperious demands would come to threaten him. He ceased to + toss to and fro, and gradually sank into a half-conscious sleep. It seemed + to him at the time that he was still awake, held back from slumber by the + great stillness of the country, that silence which disturbs ears long + accustomed to the continuous roar of towns. Suddenly he started into + perfect wakefulness, and felt that he was in possession of all his + faculties. The room where he lay was quite dark, but he strained his eyes + to see something in it. He listened intently, although no sound whatever + met his ears. A great overmastering fear laid hold on him. He tried to + reason with himself, insisting that there was nothing, and could be + nothing, to be afraid of. Still the fear remained. His lips grew stiff and + painfully hot, and when he tried to moisten them his tongue was dry and + moved across them raspingly. He struggled with the terror that paralyzed + him, and by a great effort raised his hand to his forehead. It was damp + and cold, and the hair above it was damp. He had no way of knowing how + much of the night had passed, or even how long he lay rigid, unable to + breathe without a kind of pain; but suddenly as it had come the terror + left him, left him without any effort on his part or any reason that he + recognised. Then the window of his room shook, and he heard outside the + low moan of the rising wind. Some heavy drops of rain struck audibly on + the roof, and the first gust of the storm carried to his ears the sound of + waves beating on the rocks. His senses strained no more. His eyes closed, + and he sank quietly into a long dreamless sleep. + </p> + <p> + It was late when he woke, so late that the winter sky was fully lit. The + wind, whose first gusts had lulled him to sleep, had risen to a gale, and + the rain, mixed with salt spray, beat fiercely against his window and on + the roof. He listened, expecting to hear his father moving in the room + below, but within the house there was no sound. He rose, vaguely anxious, + and without waiting to dress went into the kitchen. Everything lay + untouched, just as he had left it the night before. The lamp and the + remnants of the meal were on the table. The two chairs stood side by side + before the hearth, where the fire which he had covered up smouldered + feebly. He turned and went to his father’s room. He could not have + explained how it was, but when he opened the door he was not surprised to + see the old man lying quite still, dead, upon the bed. His face was turned + upwards, and on it was that strange look of emotionless peace which rests + very often on the faces of the dead. It seemed to Hyacinth quite natural + that the soul as it departed into unknown beatitude should have printed + this for the last expression on the earthly habitation which it left + behind. He neither wondered nor, at first, sorrowed very much to see his + father dead. His sight was undimmed and his hands steady when he closed + the eyes and composed the limbs of the body on the bed. Afterwards it + seemed strange to him that he should have dressed quietly, arranged the + furniture in the kitchen, and blown the fire into a blaze before he went + down into the village to tell his news and seek for help. + </p> + <p> + They buried Æneas Conneally beside his wife in the wind-swept churchyard. + The fishermen carried his coffin into the church and out again to the + grave. Father Moran himself stood by bareheaded while the clergyman from + Clifden read the prayers and sprinkled the coffin-lid with the clay which + symbolized the return of earth to earth and dust to dust. In the presence + of death, and, with the recollection of the simple goodness of the man who + was gone, priest and people alike forgot for an hour the endless strife + between his creed and theirs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + In Connaught the upper middle classes, clergy, doctors, lawyers, police + officers, bank officials, and so forth, are all strangers in the land. + Each of them looks forward to a promotion which will enable him to move to + some more congenial part of Ireland. A Dublin suburb is the ideal + residence; failing that, the next best thing is a country town within easy + reach of the metropolis. Most of them sooner or later achieve a promotion, + but some of them are so unfortunate as to die in their exile. In either + case their furniture and effects are auctioned. No one ever removes his + goods from Connaught, because the cost of getting things to any other + part of Ireland is exorbitant, and also because tables and chairs fetch + very high prices at auctions. Thus it happens that a certain historic + interest attaches to the furniture of most middle-class houses west of the + Shannon. The dispensary doctor dines off a table which once graced the + parlour of a parish priest. The inspector of police boasts of the price he + paid for his easy-chair, recently upholstered, at the auction of a + departing bank manager, the same mahogany frame having once supported the + portly person of an old-time Protestant Archdeacon. It is to be supposed + that the furniture originally imported—no one knows how—into + Connaught must have been of superlative quality. Articles whose pedigree, + so to speak, can be traced for nearly a hundred years are still in daily + use, unimpaired by changes of scene and ownership. + </p> + <p> + An auction of any importance is a public holiday. Clergy, doctors, + lawyers, and police officers gather to the scene, not unlike those beasts + of prey of whom we read that they readily devour the remains of a fallen + member of their own pack. The natives also collect together—publicans + and shopkeepers in search of bargains in china, glass, and house-linen; + farmers bent on purchasing such outdoor property as wheelbarrows, scythes, + or harness. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth, to use the local expression, ‘called an auction’ shortly + after his father’s death, he was favoured with quite the usual crowd of + would-be buyers. Almost everyone with either money or credit within a + radius of twenty miles came into Carrowkeel for the occasion. The + presiding auctioneer had done his duty beforehand by advertising old Mr. + Conneally’s mouldy furniture as ‘magnificently upholstered’ suites, and + his battered editions of the classics as ‘a valuable library of handsomely + bound books.’ It is not likely that anyone was really deceived by these + announcements, or expected to find in the little rectory anything + sumptuous or splendid. The people assembled mainly because they were + exceedingly curious to see the inside of a house whose doors had never + been open to them during the lifetime of the owner. It was always + possible, besides, that though the ‘magnificently upholstered +suites’existed only in the auctioneer’s imagination, treasures of silver spoons + or candlesticks plated upon copper might be discovered among the effects + of a man who lived as queer a life as Mr. Conneally. When men and women + put themselves to a great deal of inconvenience to attend an auction, they + do not like to return empty-handed. A day is more obviously wasted if one + goes home with nothing to show than if one brings a table or a bedstead + purchased at twice its proper value. Thus the bidding at Hyacinth’s + auction was brisk, and the prices such as gave sincere satisfaction to the + auctioneer. Everything was sold except ‘the valuable library.’ It was in + vain that the auctioneer made personal appeals to Father Moran and the + Rector of Clifden, as presumably the two most learned gentlemen present. + Neither of them wanted the venerable classics. In fact, neither of them + could have read a line of the crooked Greek type or construed a page of + the Latin authors. Even the Irish books, in spite of the Gaelic revival, + found no purchasers. When all was over, Hyacinth wheeled them away in + barrowfuls, wondering greatly what he was to do with them. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the disposal of his library was not the chief of his perplexities. + He wondered also what he was to do with himself. When the auctioneer sent + in his cheque, and the London Committee of the Mission had paid over + certain arrears of salary, Hyacinth found himself the possessor of nearly + two hundred pounds. It seemed to him quite a large fortune, amply + sufficient to start life with, if only some suitable way of employing + brains, energy, and money would suggest itself. In order to consider the + important topic at his leisure, he hired the only lodging in Carrowkeel—the + apartment (it was both bed and sitting room) over Mr. Rafferty’s + public-house. The furniture had suffered during the tenancy of a series of + Congested Districts Board officials. An engineer, who went to sleep in the + evenings over the fire, had burnt a round hole in the hearthrug. An + instructor in fish-curing, a hilarious young man, had cracked the mirror + over the mantelpiece, and broken many ornaments, including the fellow of + the large china dog which now mourned its mate on the sideboard. Other + gentlemen had been responsible for dislocating the legs of two chairs and + a disorganization of the handle, which made it impossible to shut the door + from the inside. The chief glory of the apartment, however, still remained—a + handsomely-framed document, signed by Earl Spencer, then Lord Lieutenant, + ordering the arrest of the present Mr. Rafferty’s father as a person + dangerous to the Commonwealth. + </p> + <p> + The first thing which brought Hyacinth’s meditations to a definite point + was a letter he received from Dr. Henry. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know,’ the professor wrote, ‘and of course I do not wish to + inquire, how you are situated financially; but if, as I suppose is likely, + you are obliged in the near future to earn your living, I may perhaps be + of some help to you. You have taken your B.A. degree, and are so far + qualified either to accept a post as a schoolmaster in an English + preparatory school or to seek ordination from some Bishop. As you are + probably aware, none of our Irish Bishops will accept a man who has not + completed his divinity course. Several English Bishops, however, + especially in the northern province, are willing to ordain men who have + nothing more than a University degree, always supposing that they pass the + required examination. I shall be quite willing to give you a letter of + recommendation to one of these Bishops, and I have no doubt that a curacy + could be found for you in one of the northern manufacturing towns, where + you would have an ample sphere for useful work.’ + </p> + <p> + The letter went on to urge the advisability of Hyacinth’s suppressing, + disguising, or modifying his political opinions, which, stated nakedly, + were likely to beget a certain prejudice in the well-balanced episcopal + mind, and in any case would be quite out of place among the operatives of + Yorkshire or Lancashire. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth recognised and appreciated Dr. Henry’s kindness. He even tried to + bring himself to consider the offer seriously and carefully, but it was no + use. He could not conceive himself as likely to be either useful or happy + amid the hustling commercialism of the Manchester streets or the staid + proprieties of an Anglican vicarage. + </p> + <p> + After he had spent about a week in his new lodging, Father Moran called on + him. The priest sat beside the fire for more than an hour chatting in a + desultory manner. He drank tea and smoked, and it was not until he rose to + go that the real object of his visit appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, Mr. Conneally, and maybe I’ve + no right to ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t have the least objection to telling you,’ said Hyacinth, ‘if I + knew myself; but I haven’t my mind made up.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest put down his hat again, and settled himself with his back to + the fire and his hands in his pockets. Hyacinth sat down, and during the + pause which followed contemplated the wonderful number and variety of the + stains on the black waistcoat in front of him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’ve given up the idea of finishing your divinity course?’ said + the priest. ‘I’m not blaming you in the least. There’s men that studying + suits, and there’s men that it doesn’t. I never was much of a one for + books myself.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed heavily, perhaps at the recollection of his own struggles with + the mysteries of theology in his Maynooth student days. Then he walked + over and closed the door, returned, drew a chair close to Hyacinth, and + spoke in the tone of a man who imparts an important secret. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you hear that Thady Durkan’s giving up the fishing? Since he broke + his arm he declares he’ll never step aboard the boat again. You know the + St. Bridget. She’s not one of the biggest boats, but she’s a very lucky + one. She made over five hundred pounds last year, besides the share the + Board took. She was built at Baltimore, and the Board spent over two + hundred pounds on her, nets and gear and all. There’s only one year more + of instalments to pay off the price of her, and Thady has the rest of the + men bought out. There’s nobody owns a stick or a net or a sail of her + except himself, barring, of course, what’s due to the Board.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was sufficiently acquainted with the system on which the + Congested Districts Board provides the Connaught fishermen with boats and + nets to understand Father Moran’s rather involved statement of Durkan’s + financial position. He did not yet grasp why all this information should + have been conveyed to him in such a solemn and mysterious tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘You might have the <i>St. Bridget</i>,’ said the priest, ‘for one hundred + and fifty pounds down.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused to let the full glory of the situation lay hold upon Hyacinth. + Perhaps he expected an outburst of delight and surprise, but none came. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind you,’ he said, ‘there’s others looking for her. The men that worked + with Thady are thinking of making him an offer, and I dare say the Board + would be glad enough to have the boat owned among them; but I can put in a + word myself both with Thady and the inspector. Faith, the times is changed + since I was a young man. I can remember when a priest was no more thought + of than a barefooted gossure out of a bog, and now there isn’t a spalpeen + of a Government inspector but lifts his hat to me in the street. Oh, a + note from me will go a good way with the Board, and you’ll not miss the + chance for want of my good word—I promise you that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind you, there’s a good thing to be made out of her. But sure you know + that as well as I do myself, and maybe better. What do you say now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll think it over,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and whatever comes of it I’ll be + greatly obliged to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, don’t be delaying too long. And look you here’—his voice sank + almost to a whisper—‘don’t be talking about what I’ve said to you. + People are queer, and if Father Joyce down in Clifden came to hear that I + was working for a Protestant he’d be sure to go talking to the Archbishop, + and I’d never get to the end of the fuss that would be made.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, it’s very good of you, especially considering who I am—I + mean, my father being a convert, and——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say no more,’ said the priest—‘say no more. Your father was a good + man, Catholic or Protestant. I’m not one of these bitter kind of priests, + Mr. Conneally. I can be a good Catholic without hating my neighbours. I + don’t hold with all this bullyragging in newspapers about “sourfaces” and + “saved.” Maybe that’s the reason that I’m stuck down here at the other end + of nowhere all my life, and never got promotion or praise. But what do I + care as long as they let me alone to do my work for the people? I’m not + afraid to say it to you, Mr. Conneally, for you won’t want to get me into + trouble, but it’s my belief that there’s many of our priests would rather + have grand churches than contented people. They’re fonder of Rome than + they are of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really, Father Moran,’ said Hyacinth, smiling, ‘if you go on like this, I + shall expect to hear of your turning Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God forbid, Mr. Conneally! I wish you well. I wish you to be here among + us, and to be prosperous; but the dearest wish of my heart for you is that + I might see you back in the Catholic Church, believing the creed of your + forefathers.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest’s suggestion attracted Hyacinth a great deal more than Dr. + Henry’s. He liked the sea and the fishing, and he loved the simple people + among whom he had been brought up. His experiences in Dublin had not + encouraged him to be ambitious. Life in the great world—it was thus + that he thought of the bickerings of the Dublin Nationalists and the + schoolboy enthusiasms of college students—was not a very simple + thing. There was a complexity and a confusion in affairs which made it + difficult to hold to any cause devotedly. It seemed to him, looking back, + that Miss Goold’s ideals—and she had ideals, as he knew—were + somehow vulgarized in their contact with the actual. He had seen something + of the joy she found in her conflict with O’Rourke, and it did not seem to + him to be pure or ennobling. At one time he was on the verge of deciding + to do what the priest wished. Walking day by day along the shore or + through the fields, he came to think that life might very well be spent + without ambitious or extended hopes in quiet toil and unexciting + pleasures. What held him back was the recollection, which never ceased to + haunt him, of his father’s prophecy. The thought of the great fight, + declared to be imminent, stirred in him an emotion so strong that the + peace and monotony he half desired became impossible. He never made it + clear to himself that he either believed or disbelieved the prediction. He + certainly did not expect to see an actual gathering of armed men, or that + Ireland was to be the scene of a battle like those in South Africa. But + there was in him a conviction that Ireland was awakening out of a long + sleep, was stretching her limbs in preparation for activity. He felt the + quiver of a national strenuousness which was already shaking loose the + knots of the old binding-ropes of prejudice and cowardice. It seemed to + him that bone was coming to dry bone, and that sooner or later—very + soon, it was likely—one would breathe on these, and they would live. + That contest should come out of such a renaissance was inevitable. But + what contest? Against whom was the new Ireland to fight, and who was truly + on her side? Here was the puzzle, insoluble but insistent. It would not + let him rest, recurring to his mind with each fresh recollection of his + father’s prophecy. + </p> + <p> + It was while he was wearying himself with this perplexity that he got a + letter from Augusta Goold. It was characteristic of her that she had + written no word of sympathy when she heard of his father’s death, and now, + when a letter did come, it contained no allusion to Hyacinth’s affairs. + She told him with evident delight that she had enlisted no less than ten + recruits for the Boer army. She had collected sufficient money to equip + them and pay their travelling expenses. It was arranged that they were to + proceed to Paris, and there join a body of volunteers organized by a + French officer, a certain Pierre de Villeneuve, about whom Miss Goold was + enthusiastic. She was in communication with an Irishman who seemed likely + to be a suitable captain for her little band, and she wanted Hyacinth back + in Dublin to help her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know,’ she wrote, ‘the people I have round me here. Poor old Grealy + is quite impracticable, though he means well. He talks about nothing but + the Fianna and Finn McCool, and can’t see that my fellows must have riding + lessons, and must be got somehow to understand the mechanism of a rifle. + Tim Halloran has been in a sulk ever since I told him what I thought of + his conduct at the Rotunda. He never comes near me, and Mary O’Dwyer told + me the other day that he called my volunteers a “pack of blackguards.” I + dare say it’s perfectly true, but they’re a finer kind of blackguard than + the sodden loafers the English recruit for their miserable army.’ + </p> + <p> + She went on to describe the series of Boer victories which had come one + after another just at Christmas-time. She was confident that the cause of + freedom and nationality would ultimately triumph, and she foresaw the + intervention of some Continental Power. A great blow would be struck at + the already tottering British Empire, and then—the freedom of + Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt strangely excited as he read her news. The letter seemed the + first clear note of the trumpet summoning him to his father’s Armageddon. + Politics and squabbling at home might be inglorious and degrading, but the + actual war which was being waged in South Africa, the struggle of a people + for existence and liberty, could be nothing but noble. He saw quite + clearly what his own next step was to be, and there was no temptation to + hesitate about it. He would place his money at Miss Goold’s disposal, and + go himself with her ten volunteers to join the brigade of the heroic de + Villeneuve. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + The prospect of joining Augusta Goold’s band of volunteers and going to + South Africa to fight afforded Hyacinth great satisfaction. For two days + he lived in an atmosphere of day-dreams and delightful anticipations. He + had no knowledge whatever of the actual conditions of modern warfare. He + understood vaguely that he would be called upon to endure great hardships. + He liked to think of these, picturing himself bravely cheerful through + long periods of hunger, heat, or cold. He had visions of night watches, of + sudden alarms, of heart-stirring skirmishes, of scouting work, and + stealthy approaches to the enemy’s lines. He thought out the details of + critical interviews with commanding officers in which he with some chosen + comrade volunteered for incredibly dangerous enterprises. He conceived of + himself as wounded, though not fatally, and carried to the rear out of + some bullet-swept firing-line. He was just twenty-three years of age. + Adventure had its fascination, and the world was still a place full of + splendid possibilities. + </p> + <p> + At the end of his two days of dreaming he returned, flushed with his great + purposes, to the realities of life. He went to Father Moran to tell him + that he would not buy Durkan’s boat. He laughed to himself at the thought + of doing such a thing. Was he to spend his life fishing mackerel round the + rocky islands of Connemara, when he might be fighting like one of the + ancient heroes, giving his strength, perhaps his life, for a great cause? + The priest met him at the presbytery door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in, Mr. Conneally—come in and sit down. I was expecting you + these two days. What were you doing at all, walking away there along the + rocks by yourself? The people were beginning to say that you were getting + to be like your poor father, and that nobody’d ever get any good out of + you. But I knew you’d come back to me here. I hope now it’s to tell me + that you’ll buy the boat you’ve come.’ + </p> + <p> + They entered the house, and the priest opened the door of the little + sitting-room. Hyacinth knew it well. There was the dark mahogany table + with the marks burnt into it where hot dishes were set down, the shabby + arm-chair, the worn cocoanut-matting on the floor, the dozen or so books + in the hanging shelf, the tawdry sacred pictures round the wall. He had + known it all, and it all seemed unchanged since he was a child. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit you down—sit you down,’ said the priest. ‘And now about the + boat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not going in for her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I’m as thankful to you for + suggesting it as if I did buy her. I hope you’ll understand that, but I’m + not going to buy her.’ + </p> + <p> + He found it difficult to speak of his new plan to Father Moran. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you tell me that, now? I’m sorry for it. And why wouldn’t you buy her? + What’s there to hinder you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now,’ said the priest, ‘I can guess. I thought the auction turned + out well for you, but I never heard for certain, and maybe you haven’t got + the money for the boat. Whisht now, my son, and let me speak. I’m thinking + the thing might be managed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Father Moran———’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah now, will you be quiet when I bid you? I haven’t the money myself. + Never a penny have I been able to save all my life, with the calls there + are on me in a parish like this. Sure, you know yourself how it is. + There’s one will have a cow that has died on him, and another will be + wanting a lock of potatoes for seed in the springtime; and if it isn’t + that, it’ll be something else. And who would the creatures go to in their + trouble but the old priest that christened and married the most of them? + But, indeed, thanks be to God, things is improving. The fishing brings in + a lot of money to the men, and there’s a better breed of cattle in the + country now, and the pigs fetch a good price since we had the railway to + Clifden, and maybe the last few years I might have saved a little, but I + didn’t. Indeed, I don’t know where it is the money goes at all, but + someway it’s never at rest in my breeches pockets till it’s up and off + somewhere. God forgive us! it’s more careful we ought to be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Father Moran, I don’t——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Arrah then, will you cease your talking for one minute, and let me get a + word in edgeways for your own good? What was I saying? Oh, I was just + after telling you I hadn’t got the money to help you. But maybe I might + manage to get it. The man in the bank in Clifden knows me. I borrowed a + few pounds off him two years ago when the Cassidys’ house and three more + beside it got blown away in the big wind. Father Joyce put his name on the + back of the bill along with my own, and trouble enough I had to get him to + do it, for he said I ought to put an appeal in the newspapers, and I’d get + the money given to me. But I never was one to go begging round the + country. I said I’d rather borrow the money and pay it back like a decent + man. And so I did, every penny of it. And I think the bank will trust me + now, with just your name and mine, more especially as it’s to buy a boat + we want the money. What do you say to that, now?’ He looked at Hyacinth + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Moran, you’re too good to me—you’re too good altogether. + What did ever I do to deserve such kindness from you? But you’re all + wrong. I’ve got plenty of money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t you tell me so at once, and + not keep me standing here twisting my brains into hard knots with thinking + out ways of getting what you don’t want? If you’ve got the money you’ll + buy the boat. What better could you do with it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t want to buy the boat. I don’t want to live here always. I’m + going away out into the world. I want to see things and do things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Out into the world! Will you listen to the boy? Is it America you’re + thinking of? Ah, now, there’s enough gone out and left us lonely here. + Isn’t the best of all the boys and girls going to work for the strangers + in the strange land? and why would you be going after them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not going to America. I’m going to South Africa. I’m going to join + some young Irishmen to fight for the Boers and for freedom.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re going out to fight—to fight for the Boers! What is it that’s + in your head at all, Hyacinth Conneally? Tell me now.’ + </p> + <p> + Again Hyacinth hesitated. Was it possible to give utterance to the + thoughts and hopes which filled his mind? Could he tell anyone about the + furious fancies of the last few days, or of that weird vision of his + father’s which lay at the back of what he felt and dreamed? Could he even + speak of the enthusiasm which moved him to devote himself to the cause of + freedom and a threatened nationality? In the presence of a man of the + world the very effort to express himself would have acted as some + corrosive acid, and stained with patches of absurdity the whole fabric of + his dreams. He looked at Father Moran, and saw the priest’s eyes lit with + sympathy. He knew that he had a listener who would not scoff, who might, + perhaps, even understand. He began to speak, slowly and haltingly at + first, then more rapidly. At last he poured out with breathless, + incoherent speed the strange story of the Armageddon vision, the hopes + that were in him, the fierce enthusiasm, the passionate love for Ireland + which burnt in his soul. He was not conscious of the gaping inconsequences + of his train of emotion. He did not recognise how ridiculous it was to + connect the Boer War with the Apocalyptic battle of the saints, or the + utter impossibility of getting either one or the other into any sort of + relation with the existing condition of Ireland. + </p> + <p> + A casual observer might have supposed that Hyacinth had made a mistake in + telling his story to Father Moran. A smile, threatening actual laughter, + hovered visibly round the priest’s mouth. His eyes had a shrewd, searching + expression, difficult to interpret. Still, he listened to the rhapsody + without interrupting it, till Hyacinth stopped abruptly, smitten with + sudden self-consciousness, terrified of imminent ridicule. Nor were the + priest’s first words reassuring. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t say now, Hyacinth Conneally, but there might be the makings of + a fine man in you yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I might have known,’ said Hyacinth angrily, ‘that you’d laugh at me. I + was a fool to tell you at all. But I’m in earnest about what I’m going to + do. Whatever you may think about the rest, there’s no laughing at that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you’re just wrong then, for I wasn’t laughing nor meaning to laugh + at all. God forbid that I should laugh at you, and I meant it when I said + that there was the makings of a fine man in you. Laugh at you! It’s little + you know me. Listen now, till I tell you something; but don’t you be + repeating it. This must be between you and me, and go no further. I was + very much of your way of thinking myself once.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth gazed at him in astonishment. The thought of Father Moran, + elderly, rotund, kindly; of Father Moran with sugar-stick in his pocket + for the school-children and a quaint jest on his lips for their mothers; + of Father Moran in his ruffled silk hat and shabby black coat and baggy + trousers—of this Father Moran mounted and armed, facing the British + infantry in South Africa, was wholly grotesque. He laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s yourself that has the bad manners to be laughing now,’ said the + priest. ‘But small blame to you if it was out to the Boers I was thinking + of going. The gray goose out there on the road might laugh—and she’s + the solemnest mortal I know—at the notion of me charging along with + maybe a pike in my hand, and the few gray hairs that’s left on the sides + of my head blowing about in the breeze I’d make as I went prancing to and + fro. But that’s not what I meant when I said that once upon a time I was + something of your way of thinking. And sure enough I was, but it’s a long + time ago now.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed, and for a minute or two he said no more. Hyacinth began to + wonder what he meant, and whether the promised confidence would be + forthcoming at all. Then the priest went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘When I was a young man—and it’s hard for you to think it, but I was + a fine young man; never a better lad at the hurling than I was, me that’s + a doddering old soggarth now—when I was a boy, as I’m telling you, + there was a deal of going to and fro in the country and meetings at night, + and drillings too, and plenty of talk of a rising—no less. Little + good came of it that ever I saw, but I’m not blaming the men that was in + it. They were good men, Hyacinth Conneally—men that would have given + the souls out of their bodies for the sake of Ireland. They would, sure, + for they loved Ireland well. But I had my own share in the doings. Of + course, it was before ever there was a word of my being a priest. That + came after. Thanks be to God for His mercies’—the old man crossed + himself reverently—‘He kept me from harm and the sin that might have + been laid on me. But in those days there were great thoughts in me, just + as there are in you to-day. Faith! I’m of opinion that my thoughts were + greater than yours, for I was all for fighting here in Ireland, for the + Poor Old Woman herself, and it’s out to some foreign war you’d be going to + fight for people that’s not friends of yours by so much as one heart’s + drop. Still, the feeling in you is the same as the feeling that was in me, + not a doubt of it. But, indeed, so far as I’m concerned, it’s over and + gone. I haven’t spoken to a mortal soul about such things these thirty + years, and I wouldn’t be doing it now only just to show you that I’m the + last man in Ireland that would laugh at you for what you’ve told me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m glad I told you what’s in my heart,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I’d like to + think I had your blessing with me when I go.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you won’t get it,’ said Father Moran, ‘so I tell you straight. I’ll + give you no blessing when you’re going away out of the country, just when + there’s need of every man in it. I tell you this—and you’ll remember + that I know what I’m talking about—it’s not men that ‘ll fight who + will help Ireland to-day, but men that will work.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Work!’ said Hyacinth—‘work! What work is there for a man like me to + do in Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t I offer you the chance of buying Thady Durkan’s boat? Isn’t there + work enough for any man in her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But that’s not the sort of work I ought to be doing. What good would it + be to anyone but myself? What good would it be to Ireland if I caught + boatloads of mackerel?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be making light of the mackerel, now. He’s a good fish if you get + him fresh, and split him down and fry him with a lump of butter in the + pan. There’s worse fish than the mackerel, as you’ll discover if you go to + South Africa, and find yourself living on a bit of some ancient tough + beast of an ostrich, or whatever it may happen to be that they eat out + there.’ + </p> + <p> + In his exalted mood Hyacinth felt insulted at the praise of the mackerel + and the laughter in the priest’s eyes when he suggested a dinner off + ostrich. He held out his hand, and said good-bye. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait, now—wait,’ said the priest; ‘don’t be in such a tearing + hurry. I’ll talk as serious as you like, and not hurt your feelings, if + you’ll stay for a minute or two. Listen, now. Isn’t the language dying on + the people’s lips? They’re talking the English, more and more of them + every day; and don’t you know as well as I do that when they lose their + Irish they’ll lose half the good that’s in them? What sort will the next + generation of our people be, with their own language gone from them, and + their Irish ways forgotten, and all the old tales and songs and tunes + perished away like the froth of the waves that the storm blew up across + the fields the night your father died? I’ll tell you what they’ll be—just + sham Englishmen. And the Lord knows the real thing is not the best kind of + man in the world, but the copy of an Englishman! sure, that’s the poorest + creature to be found anywhere on the face of God’s good earth. And that’s + what we’ll be, when the Irish is gone from us. Wouldn’t there be work + enough for you to do, now, if you were to buy Thady Durkan’s boat, and + stay here and help to keep the people to the old tongue and the old ways?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth shook his head. His mood was altogether too heroic to allow him + to think highly of what the priest said to him. He loved the Irish + language as his native speech—loved it, too, as a symbol, and + something more, perhaps—as an expression of the nationality of + Ireland. But it did not seem to him to be a very essential thing, and to + spend his life talking it and persuading other people to talk it was an + obscure kind of patriotism which made no strong appeal to him—which, + indeed, could not stand compared to the glory of drawing the sword. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve listened to what I’ve told you, Father Moran, and you say that you + understand what I feel, but I don’t think you really do, or else you + wouldn’t fancy that I could be satisfied to stay here. What is it you ask + of me? To spend my time fishing and talking Irish and dancing jigs. Ah! + it’s well enough I’d like to do it. Don’t think that such a life wouldn’t + be pleasant to me. It would be too pleasant. That’s what’s the matter with + it. It’s a temptation, and not a duty, that you’re setting before me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maybe it is now—maybe it is. And if it’s that way you think of it, + you’re right enough to say no to me. But for all that I understand you + well enough. Who’s this now coming up to the house to see me?’ He went + over to the window and looked out. ‘Isn’t it a queer life a priest lives + in a place like this, with never a minute of quiet peace from morning to + night but somebody will be coming interrupting and destroying it? First + it’s you, Hyacinth Conneally—not that I grudge the time to you when + you’re going off so soon—and now it’s Michael Kavanagh. Indeed, he’s + a decent man too, like yourself. Come in, Michael—come in. Don’t be + standing there pulling at the old door-bell. You know as well as myself + it’s broken these two years. It’s heartbroken the thing is ever since that + congested engineer put up the electric bell for me, and little use that + was, seeing that Biddy O’Halloran—that’s my housekeeper, Mr. + Conneally; you remember her—poured a jug of hot water into its + inside the way it wouldn’t annoy her with ringing so loud. And why the + noise of it vexed her I couldn’t say, for she’s as deaf as a post every + time I speak to her. Ah, you’re there, Michael, are you? Now, what do you + want?’ + </p> + <p> + A young farmer, black-haired, tall and straight, stood in the doorway with + his hat in his hand. He had brought a paper for Father Moran’s signature. + It related to a bull which the Congested Districts Board proposed to lend + to the parish, and of which Kavanagh had been chosen to be custodian. A + long conversation followed, conducted in Irish. The newly-erected + habitation for the animal was discussed; then the best method of bringing + him home from Clifden Station; then the kind of beast he was likely to + turn out to be, and the suitability of particular breeds of cattle to the + coarse, brine-soaked land of Carrowkeel. Kavanagh related a fearful tale + of a lot of ‘foreign’ fowls which had been planted in the neighbourhood by + the Board. They were particularly nice to look at, and settings of their + eggs were eagerly booked long beforehand. Then one by one they sickened + and died. Some people thought they died out of spite, being angered at the + way they had been treated in the train. Kavanagh himself did not think so + badly of them. He was of opinion that their spirits were desolated in them + with the way the rain came through the roof of their house, and that their + feet got sore with walking on the unaccustomed sea-sand. However their + death was to be explained, he hoped that the bull would turn out to be + hardier. Father Moran, on his part, hoped that the roof of the bull’s + house would turn out to be sounder. In the end the paper was signed, and + Kavanagh departed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, there,’ said the priest, ‘is a fine young man. Only for him, I don’t + know how I’d get on in the parish at all. He’s got a head on his + shoulders, and a notion of improving himself and his neighbours, and it + would do you good to see him dance a jig. But why need I tell you that + when you’ve seen him yourself? He is to be the secretary of the Gaelic + League when we get a branch of it started in Carrowkeel. And a good + secretary he’ll make, for his heart will be in the work. I dare say, now, + you’ve heard of the League when you were up in Dublin. Well, you’ll hear + more of it. By the time you’re back here again—— Now, don’t be + saying that you’ll not come back. I’ll give you a year to get sick of + fighting for the Boers, and then there’ll be a hunger on you for the old + place that will bring you back to it in spite of yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, Father Moran. Whatever happens to me, I’ll not forget + Carrowkeel nor you either. You’ve been good to me, and if I don’t take + your advice and stay where I am, it’s not through want of gratitude.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest wrung his hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll come back. It may be after I’m dead and gone, but back you’ll + come. Here or somewhere else in the old country you’ll spend your days + working for Ireland, because you’ll have learnt that working is better + than fighting.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + When Hyacinth got back to Dublin about the middle of February, the streets + were gay with amateur warriors. The fever for volunteering, which laid + hold on the middle classes after the series of regrettable incidents of + the winter, raged violently among the Irish Loyalists. Nowhere were the + recruiting officers more fervently besieged than in Dublin. Youthful + squireens who boasted of being admirable snipe shots, and possessed a + knowledge of all that pertained to horses, struggled with prim youths out + of banks for the privilege of serving as troopers. The sons of plump + graziers in the West made up parties with footmen out of their landlords’ + mansions, and arrived in Dublin hopeful of enlistment. Light-hearted + undergraduates of Trinity, drapers’ assistants of dubious character, and + the crowd of nondescripts whose time is spent in preparing for + examinations which they fail to pass, leaped at the opportunity of winning + glory and perhaps wealth in South Africa. Those who were fortunate enough + to be selected were sent to the Curragh to be broken in to their new + profession. They were clothed, to their own intense delight, in that + peculiar shade of yellow which is supposed to be a help to the soldier in + his efforts not to be shot. Their legs were screwed into putties and + breeches incredibly tight round the knees, which expanded rapidly higher + up, and hung round their hips in voluminous folds. Their jackets were + covered with a multiplicity of quaint little pockets, sewed on in + unexpected places, and each provided with a flap which buttoned over it. + The name of the artist who designed this costume has perished, nor does + there remain any written record of the use which these tightly-secured + pocket-covers were supposed to serve. Augusta Goold suggested that perhaps + they were meant to prevent the troopers’ money from falling out in the + event of any commanding officer ordering his men to receive the enemy + standing on their heads. ‘In the light of the intelligence displayed by + the English Generals up to the present,’ she said, ‘the War Office is + quite right to be prepared for such a thing happening.’ + </p> + <p> + It seemed possible to procure almost any amount of leave from the Curragh, + and the yeomen delighted to spend it in promenading the fashionable + streets of the metropolis. The tea-shops reaped a rich harvest from the + regal way in which they treated their female relatives and friends. + Indeed, their presence must have seriously disorganized the occupations by + which young women earn their living. It was difficult to imagine that the + sick in the hospitals could have been properly looked after, or the + letters of solicitors typewritten, so great was the number of damsels who + attached themselves to these attractive heroes. The philosophic observer + found another curious subject for speculation in the fact that this parade + of military splendour took place in a city whose population sympathized + intensely with the Boer cause, and was accustomed to receive the news of a + British defeat with delight. The Dublin artisan viewed the yeomen much as + the French in Paris must have looked upon the allied troops who entered + their city after Waterloo. The very name by which they were called had an + anti-national sound, and suggested the performance of other amateur + horse-soldiers in Wexford a century earlier. + </p> + <p> + The little band whose writings filled the pages of the <i>Croppy</i> were + more than anyone else enraged at the flaunting of Imperialism in their + streets. They had rejoiced quite openly after Christmas, and called + attention every week in prose and poetry to the moribund condition of the + British Empire, even boasting as if they themselves had borne a part in + its humiliation. They were still in a position to assert that the Boers + were victorious, and that the volunteers were likely to do no more than + exhaust the prison accommodation at Pretoria. They could and did compose + biting jests, but their very bitterness witnessed to a deep + disappointment. It was not possible to deny that the despised English + garrison in Ireland was displaying a wholly unlooked-for spirit. No one + could have expected that West Britons and ‘Seonini’ would have wanted to + fight. Very likely, when the time came, they would run away; but in the + meanwhile here they were, swaggering through the streets of Dublin, + outward and visible signs of a force in the country hostile to the hopes + of the <i>Croppy</i>, a force that some day Republican Ireland would have + to reckon with. + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold herself was more tolerant and more philosophic than her + friends. She looked at the yeomen with a certain admiration. Their + exuberant youthfulness, their strutting, and their obvious belief in + themselves, made a strong appeal to her imagination. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at that young man,’ she said to Hyacinth, pointing out a volunteer + who passed them in the street. ‘I happen to know who he is. In fact, I + knew his people very well indeed at one time, and spent a fortnight with + them once when that young man was a toddler, and sometimes sat on my knee—at + least, he may have sat on my knee. There were a good many children, and at + this distance of time I can’t be certain which of them it was that used to + worry me most during the hour before dinner. The father is a landlord in + the North, and comes of a fine old family. He’s a strong Protestant, and + English, of course, in all his sympathies. Well, a hundred years or so ago + that boy’s great-grandfather was swaggering about these same streets in a + uniform, just as his descendant is doing now. He helped to drag a cannon + into the Phoenix Park one day with a large placard tied over its muzzle—“Our + rights or——” Who do you think he was threatening? Just the + same England that this boy is so keen to fight for to-day!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you are thinking of the volunteer movement of 1780.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Afterwards,’ she went on, ‘he was one of the incorruptibles. You’ll see + his name on Jonah Barrington’s red list. He stood out to the last against + the Union, wouldn’t be bribed, and fought two duels with Castlereagh’s + bravoes. The curious thing is that the present man is quite proud of that + ancestor in a queer, inconsistent sort of way. Says the only mark of + distinction his family can boast of is that they didn’t get a Union + peerage. Strange, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is strange,’ said Hyacinth. ‘The Irish gentry of 1782 were men to be + proud of; yet look at their descendants to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is very sad. Do you know, I sometimes think that Ireland will never + get her freedom till those men take it for her. Almost every struggle that + Ireland ever made was captained by her aristocracy. Think of the + Geraldines and the O’Neills. Think of Sarsfield and the Wild Geese. Think + of the men who wrenched a measure of independence from England in 1782. + Think of Lord Edward and Smith O’Brien. No, we may talk and write and + agitate, but we’ll <i>do</i> nothing till we get the old families with + us.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth laughed. It seemed to him that Miss Goold was deliberately + talking nonsense, rejoicing in a paradox. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are likely to wait, if we wait for them. Look at those.’ He waved his + hand towards a group of yeomen who were chatting at the street corner. + ‘They are going to stamp out a nation in South Africa. Is it likely that + they will create one here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not likely’—she sighed as she spoke—‘yet stranger + things than that have happened. Have you ever considered what the present + English policy in Ireland really is? Do you understand that they are + trying to keep us quiet by bribing the priests? They think that the + Protestants are powerless, or that they will be loyal no matter what + happens. But think: These Protestants have been accustomed for generations + to regard themselves as a superior race. They conceive themselves to have + a natural right to govern. Now they are being snubbed and insulted. There + isn’t an English official from their Lord Lieutenant down but thinks he is + quite safe in ignoring the Protestants, and is only anxious to make + himself agreeable to the priests. That’s the beginning. Very soon they’ll + be bullied as well as snubbed. They will stand a good deal of it, because, + like most strong people, they are very stupid and slow at understanding; + but do you suppose they will always stand it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’re English, and not Irish,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I suppose they like what + their own people do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a lie. They are not English, though they say it themselves. In the + end they will find out that they are Irish. Some day a last insult, a + particularly barefaced robbery, or an intolerable oppression, will awake + them. Then they’ll turn on the people that betrayed them. They will + discover that Ireland—their Ireland—isn’t meant to be a + cabbage-garden for Manchester, nor yet a <i>crêche</i> for sucking + priests. Ah! it will be good to be alive when they find themselves. We + shall be within reach of the freedom of Ireland then.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was amazed at her vehement admiration for the class she was + accustomed to anathematize. He turned her words over and over in his mind. + They recalled, as so many different things seemed to do, his father’s + vision of an Armageddon. Amid the confusion of Irish politics this thought + of a Protestant and aristocratic revolt was strangely attractive; only it + seemed to be wholly impossible. He bewildered himself in the effort to + arrange the pieces of the game into some reasonable order. What was to be + thought of a priesthood who, contrary to all the traditions of their + Church, had nursed a revolution against the rights of property? or of a + people, amazingly quick of apprehension, idealistic of temperament, who + time after time submitted themselves blindfold to the tyranny of a single + leader, worshipped a man, and asked no questions about his policy? How was + he to place an aristocracy who refused to lead, and persisted in whining + about their wrongs to the inattentive shopkeepers of English towns, + gentlemen not wanting in honour and spirit courting a contemptuous + bourgeoisie with ridiculous flatteries? In what reasonable scheme of + things was it possible to place Protestants, blatant in their boasts about + liberty, who hugged subjection to a power which deliberately fostered the + growth of an ecclesiastical tyranny? Where amid this crazy dance of + self-contradictory fanatics and fools was a sane man to find a place on + which to stand? How, above all, was Ireland, a nation, to evolve itself? + </p> + <p> + He turned with relief from these perplexities to the work that lay before + him. However a man might worry and befog himself over the confused issues + of politics, it was at all events a straightforward and simple matter to + fight, and Hyacinth was going to the front as the eleventh Irish + volunteer. + </p> + <p> + To do Miss Goold justice, she had been extremely unwilling to enrol him, + and had refused to take a penny of his money. Her conscience, such as it + was after years of patriotic endeavour, rebelled against committing a + young man whom she really liked to the companionship of the men she had + enlisted and the care of their commander, Captain Albert Quinn. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman, whom she daily expected in Dublin, belonged to County + Mayo. He represented himself as a member of an ancient but impoverished + family, boasted of his military experience, and professed to be profoundly + skilled in all matters relating to horses. Miss Goold’s inquiries elicited + the fact that he held an undefined position under his brother, a + respectable manufacturer of woollen goods. His military experience had + been gathered during the few months he held a commission in the militia + battalion of the Connaught Rangers, an honourable position which he had + resigned because his brother officers persistently misunderstood his + methods of winning money at cards. No one, however, was found to deny that + he really did possess a wonderful knowledge of horses. The worst that Miss + Goold’s correspondents could suggest with regard to this third + qualification was that he knew too much. None of these drawbacks to the + Captain—he had assumed the title when he accepted the command of the + volunteers—weighed with Miss Goold. Indeed, she admitted to Mary + O’Dwyer, in a moment of frankness, that if her men weren’t more or less + blackguards she couldn’t expect them to go out to South Africa. She did + not speak equally plainly to Hyacinth. She recollected that he had + displayed a very inconvenient kind of morality when she first knew him, + and she believed him quite capable of breaking away from her influence + altogether if he discovered the kind of men she was willing to work with. + </p> + <p> + She did her best to persuade him to give up the idea of joining the force, + by pointing out to him that he was quite unfitted for the work that would + have to be done. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know nothing about horses,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever + been on the back of one.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth admitted that this was true. The inhabitants of Carrowkeel rarely + ride their shaggy ponies, and when they do it is sitting sideways just + above the creatures’ tails, with two creels for turf or seaweed in the + place where the saddle ought to be. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I don’t suppose you know much about shooting?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was depressed, for he had never pulled a trigger in his life. In + the West of Ireland a man is not allowed to possess a gun unless a + resident magistrate will certify to his loyalty and harmlessness. + Therefore, the inhabitants of villages like Carrowkeel are debarred from + shooting either snipe or seals, and the British Empire stands secure. + </p> + <p> + The difficulty about his horsemanship Hyacinth endeavoured to get over. He + arranged with a car-driver of his acquaintance to teach him to groom and + harness his horses. The man possessed two quadrupeds, which he described + as ‘the yellow pony’ and ‘the little mare.’ Hyacinth began with the yellow + pony, the oldest and staidest of the two. The little mare, who had a + temper of her own, gave him more trouble. She disliked his way of putting + the crupper under her tail, and one day, to her owner’s great delight, + ‘rose the divil on them’ when her new groom got the shaft of the car stuck + through her collar. + </p> + <p> + The want of experience in shooting was more difficult to get over. Grealy + owned an antiquated army rifle, which he lent to Hyacinth. It was, of + course, entirely different from the Mauser, and it was impossible to get + an opportunity for firing it off. However, there was some comfort to be + found in handling the thing, and taking long and careful aim at a distant + church spire through a window. + </p> + <p> + In the face of such enthusiasm, Miss Goold could not refuse her recruit. + She talked to him freely about her plans, and was eloquent about the + spirit and abilities of M. de Villeneuve, who was to take charge of her + soldiers after they joined him in Paris. On the subject of Captain Quinn + she was much more reticent, and she refused altogether to introduce + Hyacinth to his ten fellow troopers. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s not the least necessity,’ she said, ‘for you to meet them until + the time for starting comes. In fact, I may say it is safer for none of + you to know each other.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth experienced a thrill of agreeable excitement. He felt that he was + engaged in a real conspiracy. + </p> + <p> + ‘For fear of informers?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. One never can be quite sure of anyone. Of course, they can every one + of them give information against me. You can yourself, if you like. But no + one can betray anyone else, and as long as the men are safe, it doesn’t + matter what happens to me.’ + </p> + <p> + It was one of Miss Goold’s weaknesses that she imagined herself to be an + object of hatred and dread to the Government, and nothing irritated her + more than a suspicion that she was not being taken seriously. + </p> + <p> + The first glimpse that Hyacinth got of the character of the men among whom + he was to serve came to him through Tim Halloran. Tim was still sore from + the scolding he had been given for his conduct at the Rotunda meeting, and + missed no opportunity of scoffing—not, of course, publicly, but + among his friends—at Miss Goold and her volunteers. Hyacinth avoided + him as much as possible, but one evening he walked up against him on the + narrow footway at the corner of George’s Street. Halloran was delighted, + and seized him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re the very man I wanted to see,’ he said. ‘Have you heard about + Doherty?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth knew no one called Doherty. He said so, and tried to escape, but + Halloran held him fast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not know Doherty! How’s that? I thought you were in all dear Finola’s + secrets. Faith! I heard you were going out to fight for the Boers + yourself. I didn’t believe it, of course. You wouldn’t be such a fool. But + I thought you’d know that Doherty is one of the ten precious recruits, or, + rather, <i>was</i> one of them.’ He laughed loudly. ‘He’ll fight on the + other side now, if he fights at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ asked Hyacinth uneasily. + </p> + <p> + He was not at all sure what view the authorities in Dublin Castle might + take of recruiting for the Boer service, and Miss Goold’s hints about + informers recurred to his mind alarmingly. Perhaps this Doherty was an + informer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Halloran, ‘I was in one of the police-courts this morning + doing my work for the <i>Evening Star</i>. You know I report the police + news for that rag, don’t you? Well, I do. My column is called “The Doom of + the Disorderly.” Rather a good title that for a column of the kind! There + didn’t appear to be anything particular on, just a few ordinary drunks, + until this fellow Doherty was brought in. I thought I recognised him, and + when I heard his name I was certain of my man. He hadn’t done anything + very bad—assaulted a tram-conductor, or some such trifle—and + would have got off with a fine. However, a military man turned up and + claimed him as a deserter. His real name, it appears, is Johnston. He + deserted six weeks ago from the Dublin Fusiliers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How on earth did he impose on Miss Goold?’ asked Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + Halloran looked at him curiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I shouldn’t say he exactly imposed upon Finola. She’s not precisely a + fool, you know, and she has pretty accurate information about most of the + people she deals with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But surely———’ + </p> + <p> + Halloran shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear fellow, I don’t want to shatter your ideal, but the beautiful + Finola wants to work a revolution, and you can’t do that sort of thing + without soiling your hands. However, whether he imposed on her or not, + there’s no doubt about it that he was a deserter. Why, it appeared that + the fool was tattooed all over the arms and chest, and the military people + had a list of the designs. They had a perfectly plain case, and, indeed, + Doherty made no defence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What will they do with him?’ said Hyacinth, still uneasy about the + possibility of Doherty’s volunteering information. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Halloran. ‘I should think the best punishment would + be to send him out to Ladysmith. I dare say the Boers would pass him in if + the circumstances were explained to them. By the way, it would be rather + funny if he met the other nine out there on a kopje, wouldn’t it? He might + take them prisoners, or they might capture him. Either way the situation + would have its comic possibilities.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Miss Goold lived that part of her life which was not spent at political + meetings or in the office of the <i>Croppy</i> in a villa at Killiney. A + house agent would have described it as a most desirable residence, + standing in its own grounds, overlooking the sea. Its windows opened upon + one of the best of the many beautiful views of Dublin Bay. Its half-acre + of pleasure ground—attended to by a jobbing gardener once a week—was + trim and flowery. Its brown gate shone with frequently renewed paint, and + the drive up to the door was neatly raked. Inside Miss Goold’s wants were + ministered to by an eminently respectable man-servant, his wife who + cooked, and a maid. The married couple were fixtures, and had been with + Miss Goold since she started housekeeping. The maids varied. They never + quarrelled with their mistress, but they found it impossible to live with + their fellow-servants. Mr. and Mrs. Ginty were North of Ireland + Protestants of the severest type. Ginty himself was a strong Orangeman, + and his wife professed and enforced a strict code of morals. It did not in + the least vex Miss Goold to know that her servants’ quarters were + decorated with portraits of the reigning family in gilt frames, or that + King William III. pranced on a white charger above the kitchen range. Nor + had she any objection to her butler invoking a nightly malediction on the + Pope over his tumbler of whisky-and-water. Unfortunately, her maids—the + first three were Roman Catholics—found that their religious + convictions were outraged, and left, after stormy scenes. The red-haired + Protestant from the North who followed them was indifferent to the eternal + destiny of Leo XIII., but declined to be dictated to by Mrs. Ginty about + the conduct of her love affairs. Miss Goold, to whom the quarrel was + referred, pleaded the damsel’s cause, and suggested privately that not + even a policeman—she had a low opinion of the force—could be + swept away from the path of respectability by a passion for so ugly a + girl. Mrs. Ginty pointed out in reply that red hair and freckles were no + safeguard when a flirtation is carried on after dark. There seemed no + answer to this, and the maid returned indignantly to Ballymena. She was + succeeded by an anaemic and wholly incompetent niece of Mrs. Ginty’s, who + lived in such terror of her aunt that peace settled upon the household. + Miss Goold suspected that this girl did little or no work—was, in + fact, wholly unfit for her position; but so long as she herself was made + comfortable, it did not seem to matter who tidied away her clothes or + dusted her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold, in fact, had so far mastered the philosophy of life as to + understand that the only real use of money is to purchase comfort and + freedom from minor worries. She had deliberately cut herself adrift from + the social set to which she belonged by birth and education, and so had + little temptation to spend her substance either in giving parties or + enjoying them. The ladies who flutter round the Lord Lieutenant’s + hospitable court would as soon have thought of calling on a music-hall + danseuse as on Miss Goold. Their husbands, brothers, and sons took + liberties with her reputation in the smoking-rooms of the Kildare Street + Club, and professed to be in possession of private information about her + life which placed her outside the charity of even their tolerant morality. + The little circle of revolutionary politicians who gathered round the <i>Croppy</i> + were not the sort of people who gave dinner-parties; and there is, in + spite of the Gospel precept, a certain awkwardness nowadays in continually + asking people to dinner who cannot afford a retributive invitation. + Occasionally, however, Miss Goold did entertain a few of her friends, and + it was generally admitted among them that she not only provided food and + drink of great excellence, but arranged the appointments of her feasts + luxuriously. + </p> + <p> + On the very day after his interview with Tim Halloran Hyacinth received an + invitation to dinner at the Killiney villa. Captain Quinn, the note + informed him, had arrived in Dublin, and was anxious to make the + acquaintance of his future comrade-in-arms. It seemed to Hyacinth, + thinking over the story of Doherty, unlikely that the whole corps would be + asked to meet their Captain round a dinner-table, but he hoped that some + of them would be there. Their presence would reconcile him to the + awkwardness of not possessing a dress-suit. Grealy, who had occasionally + dined at the villa, warned him that a white shirt-front and black trousers + would certainly be expected of him, and Hyacinth made an unsuccessful + effort to hire garments for the night which would fit him. In the end, + since it seemed absurd to purchase even a second-hand suit for a single + evening, he brushed his Sunday clothes and bought a pair of patent-leather + shoes. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at the platform of Westland Row Station in good time for the + train he meant to catch. He was soon joined by Miss O’Dwyer, who appeared + with her head and neck swathed in a fluffy shawl and the train of a silk + skirt gathered in her hand. The view of several flounces of nebulous white + petticoat confirmed Hyacinth in his conjecture that she was bound for Miss + Goold’s party. No one who could be supposed to be a member of Captain + Quinn’s corps appeared on the platform, and Hyacinth became painfully + conscious of the shortcomings of his costume. He thought that even Miss + O’Dwyer glanced at it with some contempt. He wished that, failing a + dress-suit, he could have imitated the Imperial Yeomen who paraded the + streets, and donned some kind of uniform. His discomfort reached a climax + when Ginty received them at the door, passed Miss O’Dwyer on to the + incompetent niece, and solemnly extracted the new shoes from their + brown-paper parcel. + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold stood chatting to Captain Quinn when Hyacinth entered the + drawing-room. She moved forward to meet him, radiant and splendid, he + thought, beyond imagination. The rustle of her draperies, the faint scent + that hung around her, and the glitter of the stones on her throat, + bewildered him. + </p> + <p> + It was not till after he had been presented to his commander that he was + able to take his eyes off her. Then, in spite of his embarrassment, he + experienced surprise and disappointment. He had formed no clear idea of + what he expected Captain Quinn to be like, but he had a vague mental + picture of a furiously-moustachioed swashbuckler, a man of immense power + and hirsute hands. Instead, there stood before him a slim, small man, + clean shaved, with shiny black hair smoothly brushed. His clothes were so + well cut and his linen so glossy that he seemed fittingly placed even + beside the magnificent Finola. His hand, when Hyacinth shook it, seemed + absurdly small, and his feet, in their neat pumps, were more like a + woman’s than a man’s. Then, when he turned to resume his conversation with + his hostess, Hyacinth was able to watch his face. He noticed the man’s + eyes. They were small and quick, like a bird’s, and shifted rapidly, never + resting long on any object. His mouth was seldom closed, and the lips, + like the eyes, moved incessantly, though very slightly. There were strange + lines about the cheeks and jaws, which somehow suggested that the man had + seen a good deal of the evil of the world, and not altogether unwillingly. + His voice was wonderfully soft and clear, and he spoke without a trace of + any provincial accent. + </p> + <p> + During dinner Captain Quinn took the largest share in the conversation. It + appeared that he was a man of considerable knowledge of the world. He had + been a sailor in his time, and had made two voyages to Melbourne as + apprentice in a large sailing-ship. His stories were interesting and + humorously told; though they all dealt with experiences of his own, he + never allowed himself to figure as anything of a hero. He recounted, for + instance, how one night in Melbourne Docks he had run from a half-drunken + Swede, armed with a knife, and had spent hours dodging round the deck of a + ship and calling for help before he could get his assailant arrested. His + career as an officer in the mercantile navy was cut short by a period of + imprisonment in a small town in Madagascar. He did not specify his + offence, but gave a vivid account of life in the gaol. + </p> + <p> + ‘There were twenty of us altogether,’ he said—‘nineteen niggers and + myself. There was no nonsense about discipline or work. We just sat about + all day in an open courtyard, with nothing but a big iron gate between us + and liberty. All the same, there was very little chance of escape. There + were always four black soldiers on guard, truculent scoundrels with curly + swords. A sort of missionary man got wind of my being there, and used to + come and visit me. One day he gave me a tract called “Gideon.” I read the + thing because I had absolutely nothing else to read. In the end it turned + out an extremely useful tract, for it occurred to me that the old plan for + defeating the Midianites might work with the four black soldiers. I + organized the other prisoners, and divided them into three bands. We raked + up a pretty fair substitute for pitchers and lamps. Then one night we + played off the stratagem, and flurried the sentries to such an extent that + I got clear away. I rather fancy one or two others got off, too, but I + don’t know. I got into a rather disagreeable tramp steamer, and + volunteered as stoker. It’s so difficult to get stokers in the tropics + that the captain took his risks and kept me. I must say I was sorry + afterwards that I hadn’t stayed in the gaol.’ + </p> + <p> + The story was properly appreciated by the audience, and Hyacinth began to + feel a liking for the Captain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know,’ said Miss Goold, when their laughter had subsided, ‘I + believe I know that identical tract. I once had an evangelical aunt, a + dear old lady who went about her house with a bunch of keys in a small + basket. She used to give me religious literature. I never was reduced to + reading it, but I distinctly remember a picture of Gideon with his mouth + open waving a torch on the front page. Could it have been the same?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It must have been,’ said the Captain. ‘Mine had that picture, too. Gideon + had nothing on but a sort of nightshirt with a belt to it, and only one + sleeve. By the way, if you are up in tracts, perhaps you know one called + “The Rock of Horeb “?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well,’ said the Captain, after appealing to Mary O’Dwyer and + Hyacinth, ‘it can’t be helped, but I must say I should like to meet + someone who had read “The Rock of Horeb.” I once sailed from Peru in an + exceedingly ill-found little barque loaded with guano. We had a very dull + time going through the tropics, and absolutely the only thing to read on + board was the first half of “The Rock of Horeb.” There were at least two + pages missing. I read it until I nearly knew it off by heart, and ever + since I’ve been trying to get a complete copy to see how it ended.’ + </p> + <p> + Some of his stories dealt with more civilized life. He delighted Miss + Goold with an account, not at all unfriendly, of the humours of the third + battalion of the Connaught Rangers. He quoted one of Mary O’Dwyer’s poems + to her, and pleased Hyacinth by his enthusiastic admiration of the + Connemara scenery. Good food, good wine, and a companion like Captain + Quinn, gladden the heart, and the little party was very merry when Ginty + deposited coffee and cigarettes and finally departed. + </p> + <p> + In Miss Goold’s house it was not the custom for the ladies to desert the + dinner-table by themselves. Very often the hostess was the only lady + present, and she had the greatest dislike to leaving a conversation just + when it was likely to become really interesting. Moreover, Miss Goold + smoked, not because it was a smart or emancipated thing to do, but because + she liked it, and—a curious note of femininity about her—she + objected to her drawing-room smelling of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + When Ginty had disappeared, and the serious business of enjoying the food + was completed, the talk of the party turned on the South African campaign + and the prospects of the Irish volunteers. Captain Quinn displayed a + considerable knowledge of the operations both of the Boers and the British + Generals. For the latter he expressed what appeared to Hyacinth to be an + exaggerated contempt, but the two ladies listened to it with evident + enjoyment. He delighted Miss Goold by his extreme eagerness to be off. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see,’ he said, ‘why we shouldn’t start to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question,’ said Augusta Goold. ‘M. de + Villeneuve arranged to send me a wire when he was ready for our men, and I + can’t well send them sooner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said the Captain, ‘but it seems to me the Frenchman is inclined to + dawdle. Don’t you think that if we went over it might hurry him up a bit?’ + </p> + <p> + She agreed that this was possible, but represented the difficulty of + keeping the men suitably employed in Paris for perhaps three weeks or a + month. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ she said, ‘they are all right here in Dublin, where I can keep + an eye on them. Besides, they have all got some sort of employment here, + and I don’t have to pay them. I haven’t got money enough to keep them in + Paris, and they won’t get anything from Dr. Leyds until you have them on + board the steamer.’ + </p> + <p> + Captain Quinn seemed satisfied, but later on in the evening he returned to + the subject. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t help feeling that it would be better for me, at all events, to go + over to Paris at once. I shouldn’t ask to draw any pay at present. I have + enough by me to keep me going for a few weeks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what about the men? Will you come back for them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I think that would be foolish and unnecessary. There is no use in + attracting attention to our movements. We can’t have a public send-off, + with cheers and that sort of thing, in any case, or march through the + streets like those ridiculous yeomen. Our fellows have got to slip away + quietly in twos and threes. We can’t tell whether we’re not being watched + this minute.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a note of sincerity in the Captain’s voice which convinced + Hyacinth that he was genuinely frightened at the thought of having a + policeman on his track. Miss Goold, too, looked appropriately solemn at + the suggestion. As a matter of fact, the authorities in Dublin Castle did + occasionally send a detective in plain clothes to walk after her. It is + not conceivable that they suspected her of wanting to blow up Nelson’s + pillar or assassinate a judge. Probably they merely wished to exercise the + members of the force, and, in the absence of any actual crime in the + country, felt that no harm could come to anyone through the ‘shadowing’ of + Miss Goold. The plan, though the authorities probably did not consider + this, had the incidental advantage of gratifying the lady herself. She was + perfectly acquainted with most of the officers who were put on her track, + and was always in good spirits when she recognised one of them waiting for + her in Westland Row Station. Captain Quinn kept a watch on her face with + his sharp shifting eyes while he spoke, and he was quick to realize that + he had hit on a way of flattering her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a person, Miss Goold, of whose actions the Government is bound to + take cognisance. I dare say they have their suspicions of me, and if you + and I are seen together in Dublin during the next week or two there will + certainly be inquiries; whereas, if I go over to Paris at once, there will + be no reason to watch you or anybody else.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you say, Mr. Conneally?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was puzzled at this extreme eagerness to be off. A suspicion + crossed his mind that the Captain meditated some kind of treachery. He + made what appeared to him to be a brilliant suggestion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me go with Captain Quinn. I can start to-morrow if necessary. I + should like to see something of Paris; and you know, Miss Goold, I’ve + plenty of money.’ + </p> + <p> + He thought it likely that the Captain would object to this plan. If he + meditated any kind of crooked dealing when he got to Paris, though + Hyacinth failed to see any motive for treachery, he would not want to be + saddled with a companion. The answer he received surprised him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Delightful! I shall be glad to have a friend with me. In the intervals of + military preparation we can have a gay time—not too gay, of course, + Miss Goold. I shall keep Mr. Conneally out of serious mischief. When we + have a little spare cash we may as well enjoy ourselves. We shan’t want to + carry money about with us in the Transvaal. We mean to live at the expense + of the English out there.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold smiled almost maternally at Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy,’ she said, ‘what seems plenty of money to you won’t go very + far in Paris. What is it? Let me see, you said two hundred pounds, and you + want to buy your outfit out of that. Keep a little by you in case of + accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the Captain, ‘that’s settled. And if we are really to start + to-morrow, we ought to get home to-night. Mr. Conneally may be ready to + start at a moment’s notice, but he must at least pack up his tooth-brush. + May we see you safe back to town, Miss O’Dwyer? Remember, we shall expect + a valedictory ode in the next number of the <i>Croppy</i>. Write us + something that will go to a tune, something with a swing in it, and we’ll + sing it beside the camp fires on the veldt. Miss Goold’—he held out + his hand as he spoke—‘I’m a plain fellow’—he did not look in + the least as if he thought so—‘I’ve led too rough a life to be any + good at making pretty speeches, but I’m glad I’ve seen you and talked to + you. If I’m knocked on the head out there I shall go under satisfied, for + I’ve met a woman fit to be a queen—a woman who is a queen, the queen + of the heart of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + It is likely that Augusta Goold, though she was certainly not a fool, was + a little excited by the homage, for she refused to say good-bye, declaring + that she would see the boat off next morning. It was a promise which would + cost her something to keep, for the mail steamer leaves at 8 a.m., and + Miss Goold was a lady who appreciated the warmth of her bed in the + mornings, especially during the early days of March, when the wind is + likely to be in the east. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Captain Quinn made himself very agreeable to Mary O’Dwyer during the short + journey back to Dublin. At Westland Row he saw her into a cab, which he + paid for. His last words were a reminder that he would expect to have her + war-song, music and all, sent after him to Paris. Then he turned to + Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all right. We’ve done with her. It was better to pay the cab for + her, else she might have scrupled about taking one, and we should have + been obliged to go home with her in a beastly tram. Come along. I’m + staying at the Gresham. It’s always as well to go to a decent place if you + have any money. You come with me, and we’ll have a drink and a talk.’ + </p> + <p> + There were two priests and a Bishop in earnest conference round the fire + in the hall of the hotel when they entered. When he discovered that their + talk was of the iniquities of the National Board of Education, and + therefore likely to last beyond midnight, Captain Quinn led the way into + the smoking-room, which was unoccupied. A sufficient supply of whisky and + a syphon of soda-water were set before them. The Captain stretched himself + in a comfortable chair, and lit his pipe. + </p> + <p> + ‘A fine woman, Miss Goold,’ he said meditatively. Hyacinth murmured an + assent. + </p> + <p> + ‘A very fine woman, and apparently pretty comfortably off. I wonder why on + earth she does it.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at Hyacinth as if he expected some sort of explanation to be + forthcoming. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does what?’ asked Hyacinth at length. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, all this revolutionary business: the <i>Croppy</i>, seditious + speeches, and now this rot about helping the Boers. What does she stand to + gain by it? I don’t suppose there’s any money in the business, and a woman + like that might get all the notoriety she wants in her own proper set, + without stumping the country and talking rot.’ + </p> + <p> + This way of looking at Augusta Goold’s patriotism was new to Hyacinth, and + he resented it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose she believes in the principles she professes,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + The Captain looked at him curiously, and then took a drink of his + whisky-and-soda. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s suppose she does. After all, her motives are + nothing to us, and she’s a damned fine woman, whatever she does it for.’ + </p> + <p> + He drank again. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would have been very pleasant, now, if she would have spent the next + few weeks with me in Paris. You won’t mind my saying that I’d rather have + had her than you, Conneally, as a companion in a little burst. However, I + saw at once that it wouldn’t do. Anyone with an eye in his head could tell + at a glance that she wasn’t that sort.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed. Hyacinth was not quite sure that he understood. The suggestion + was so calmly made and reasoned on that it seemed impossible that it could + be as iniquitous as it appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no one such an utter fool about women,’ went on the Captain, ‘as + your respectable married man, who never does anything wrong himself. I’d + heard of Miss Goold, as everybody has, and listened to discussions about + her character. You know just as well as I do the sort of things they say + about her.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth did know very well, and flared up in defence of his patroness. + </p> + <p> + ‘They are vile lies.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s just what I’m saying. Those respectable people who tell the lies + are such fools. They think that every woman who doesn’t mew about at + afternoon parties must be a bad one. Now, anyone with a little experience + would know at once that Miss Goold—what’s this the other one called + her? Oh yes, Finola—that Finola may be a fool, but she’s not <i>that</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + He pulled himself together as he spoke. Evidently he plumed himself, on + his experience and the faculty for judging it had brought him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I’d just as soon have asked my sister-in-law to come to Paris with + me for a fortnight as Finola. You don’t know Mrs. James Quinn, I think. + That’s a pity. She’s the most domesticated and virtuous <i>haus-frau</i> + in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused, and then asked Hyacinth, ‘Why are you doing it?’ + </p> + <p> + Again Hyacinth was reduced by sheer surprise to a futility. + </p> + <p> + ‘Doing what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, going out to fight for the Boers. Now, don’t, like a good fellow, say + you’re acting on principle. It’s all well enough to give Finola credit for + that kind of thing. She is, as we agreed, a splendid woman. But you + mustn’t ask me to believe in the whole corps in the same way.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth meditated a reply. It was clearly impossible to assert that he + wanted to fight for liberty, to give his life to the cause of an oppressed + nationality. It would be utterly absurd to tell the story of his father’s + vision, and say that he looked on the South African War as a skirmish + preliminary to the Armageddon. Sitting opposite to this cynical man of the + world and listening to his talk, Hyacinth came himself to disbelieve in + principle. He felt that there must be some baser motive at the bottom of + his desire to fight, only, for the life of him, he could not remember what + it was. He could not even imagine a good reason—good in the + estimation of his companion—why anyone should do so foolish a thing + as go out to the Transvaal. The Captain was not at all impatient. He sat + smoking quietly, until there seemed no prospect of Hyacinth answering; + then he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, if you don’t want to tell me, I don’t mind. Only I think you’re + foolish. You see, little accidents happen in these affairs. There are such + things as bullets, and one of them might hit you somewhere that would + matter. Then it would be my duty to send home your last words to your + sorrowing relatives, and it would be easier to do that if I knew exactly + what you had done. The death-bed repentance of the prodigal is always most + consoling to the elder brother—much more consoling, in fact, than + the prodigal’s return. Now, how the deuce am I to make up a plausible + repentance for you, if I don’t know what you’ve done?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I’ve not done anything,’ said Hyacinth ineffectively. + </p> + <p> + The Captain ignored him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, now, it can’t be anything very bad at your age. Have you got into a + mess with a girl? Or’—he brightened up at the guess—‘are you + hopelessly enamoured of the beautiful Finola? That would be most suitable. + The bold, bad woman sends the minstrel boy to his death, with his wild + harp slung behind him. I could draw tears from the stoniest-hearted elder + brother over that.’ + </p> + <p> + If he could have thought of a crime at the moment, Hyacinth would probably + have confessed it; but he was bewildered, and could hit on nothing better + than: + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no elder brother—in fact, no relation of any sort.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucky man! Now, I have a perfect specimen of a brother—James Quinn, + Esquire, of Ballymoy. He’s a churchwarden. Think of that! If it should be + your melancholy duty to send the message home to him—in case that + bullet hits me, I mean—tell him——— Oh, there’s no + false pride about me. Fill your glass again. I don’t in the least mind + your knowing that I wouldn’t go a step to fight for Boer or Briton either + if it wasn’t for a little affair connected with some horses and a cheque. + You see, the War Office people sent down a perfect idiot to buy remounts + for the cavalry in Galway and Mayo. He was the sort of idiot that would + tempt an Archbishop to swindle him. I rather overdid it, I’m afraid, and + now the matter is likely to come out.’ + </p> + <p> + For all his boasted powers of observation, Captain Quinn failed to notice + the disgust and alarm on Hyacinth’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘I stuck the fool,’ he went on, ‘with every old screw in the country. I + got broken-winded mares from the ploughs. I collected a regular hospital + of spavined, knock-kneed beasts, and he took them from me without a word + at thirty pounds apiece. It would have been all right if I had gone no + further. But, hang it all! I got to the end of my tether. I declare to you + I don’t believe there was another screw left in the whole county of Mayo, + and unless I took to selling him the asses I couldn’t go on. Then I heard + of this plan of your friend Finola’s, and I determined to make a little + coup and clear. I altered a cheque. The idiot was on his way to an + out-of-the-way corner of Connemara looking for mounted infantry cobs. I + knew he wouldn’t see his bank-book for at least a week, so I chanced it. + That’s the reason why I am so uncommonly anxious to get clear at once. If + I once get off, it will be next door to impossible to get me back again. + General Joubert will hardly give me up. I’m not the least afraid of those + ridiculous policemen who walk about after Finola. But I am very much + afraid of being tapped on the shoulder for reasons quite non-political. I + can tell you I’ve been on the jump ever since yesterday, when I cashed the + cheque, and I shan’t feel easy till I’ve left France behind me. I fancy + I’m safe for the present. The idiot is sure to try fifty ways of getting + his accounts straight before he lights on my little cheque; and when he + does, I’ve covered my tracks pretty well. My dear brother hasn’t the + slightest notion what’s become of me. I dare say he’ll stop making + inquiries as soon as the police begin. Poor old chap! He’ll feel it about + the family name, and so on.’ + </p> + <p> + He smiled at his own reflection in the mirror over the chimneypiece. He + was evidently well satisfied with the performance he had narrated. Then at + last Hyacinth found himself able to speak. Again, as when he had defeated + Dr. Spenser in the college lecture-room, his own coolness surprised him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re an infernal blackguard!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Captain Quinn looked at him with a surprise that was perfectly genuine. He + doubted if he could have heard correctly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did you say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I said,’ repeated Hyacinth, ‘you are an infernal blackguard!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you really suppose that I would be going on this fool of an + expedition if I wasn’t?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall tell Miss Goold the story you have just told me. I shall tell her + to-morrow morning before the boat sails.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said the Captain; ‘but don’t suppose for a moment that you’ll + shock Finola. She doesn’t know this particular story about me, but I + expect she knows another every bit as bad, and I dare say she will regard + the whole thing as a justifiable spoiling of the Egyptians. By the way ‘—there + was a note of anxiety in his voice—‘I hope you won’t find it + necessary to repeat anything I’ve said about the lady herself. <i>That</i> + might irritate her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it likely,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I would repeat that kind of talk to + any woman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so. I admire your attitude. Such things are entirely unfit for + repetition. But seriously, now, what on earth do you expect to happen when + you tell her? I’m perfectly certain that every single volunteer she’s got + is just as great a blackguard—your word, my dear fellow—as I + am, and Finola knows it perfectly well.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. The phrase in Miss Goold’s letter in which she had + originally described her men as blackguards recurred to his mind. He + remembered the story of Doherty. His anger began to give way to a sick + feeling of disgust. + </p> + <p> + ‘Think, now,’ said the Captain: ‘is it likely that you could enlist a + corps of Sunday-school teachers for this kind of work? I’ll give you + credit for the highest motives, though I’m blest if I understand them; but + how can you suppose that there is anyone else in the whole world that + feels the way you feel or wants to act as you are doing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I dare say you are right,’ said Hyacinth feebly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I’m right—perfectly right.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth tried to lift his glass of whisky-and-water to his lips, but his + hand trembled, and he was obliged to put it down. Captain Quinn watched + him wipe the spilt liquid off his hand, and then settle down in his chair + with his head bowed and his eyes half shut. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit up, man,’ he said. ‘It’s all right. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed + of, at all events. But look here, you ought not to come with us at all. + It’s no job for a man like you. You back out of it. Don’t turn up + to-morrow morning. I’ll explain to Finola if she’s there, and if not I’ll + write her a letter that will set you straight with her. I’m really sorry + for you, Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked up at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry I called you a blackguard,’ he said. ‘You’re not any worse than + everyone else in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘Don’t take it like that. From your point + of view you were quite right to call me a blackguard. And, mind you, there + are plenty of people in the world who aren’t blackguards. There’s my + brother, for instance. He’s a bit of a prig—in fact, he’s as + priggish as he well can be—but he’s never done anything but run + straight. I don’t suppose he could go crooked if he tried.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth got up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-night,’ he said, ‘and good-bye. I shan’t go with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a minute,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘I think I’ve done you one good turn + to-night in stopping you going to South Africa. Now I’ll do you another, + and one at the same time to that brother of mine. I left him in a hurry. I + told you that, but I don’t think I mentioned that I was in his employment. + He runs a woollen factory down in Mayo. I owned a share in the business + once, but that went long ago, and the whole thing belongs to James now. I + was a sort of clerk and general agent. I wasn’t really the least use, for + I never did any work. James was for ever complaining, but I’m bound to say + he stuck to me. I’ll give you a letter to him, and I dare say you may get + the job that I’ve chucked. It’s not much of a thing, but it may suit you + for a while. Sit down till I write my letter.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth obeyed. Since his anger evaporated a sort of numbness had crept + over his mind. He scarcely understood what was said to him. He had a vague + feeling of gratitude towards Captain Quinn, and at the same time a great + desire to get away and be alone. He felt that he required to adjust his + mind to the new thoughts which had been crowded into it. When he received + the letter he put it into his pocket, and rose again to go. The Captain + saw him to the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye.’ Hyacinth heard him, but his voice seemed far off, and his + words meaningless. ‘Take my advice and run down to Ballymoy at once. Don’t + hang about Finola any more. She’s a splendid woman, but she’s not for you. + If you married her you’d be perfectly miserable. Not that I think she’d + ever marry you. Still, she might. Women do such odd things. If by any + chance she does, you’ll have to be very careful. Give her her head, and + take her easy up to the jumps. Don’t try to hustle her, and for God’s sake + don’t begin sawing at her mouth. I’d very much like to be here to see you + in the character of Mr. Augusta Goold.’ He sighed. ‘But, of course, I + can’t. The British Isles will be too hot for me for a while. However, who + can tell what might happen if I win a good medal from old Kruger, and + capture a few British Generals? I might act best man for you yet, if + you’ll wait a year or two.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth got home to his lodgings the first object that met his eye + was Grealy’s ancient rifle. He tied a label round its barrel addressed to + the owner. Then he packed his few belongings carefully and strapped his + bag. So far he was sure of himself. He had no doubt whatever that he must + leave Dublin at once. He felt that he could not endure an interview with + Augusta Goold. She might blame him or might pity him. Either would be + intolerable. She might even justify herself to him, might beat him into + submission by sheer force of her beauty and her passion, as she had done + once before. He would run no such risk. He felt that he could not + sacrifice his sense of right and wrong, could not allow himself to be + dragged into the moral chaos in which, it seemed to him now, Miss Goold + lived. He was unconscious of any Divine leading, or even of any direct + reliance on the obligations of honour. He could not himself have told why + he clung with such desperate terror to his plan of escaping from his + surroundings. Simply he could not do certain things or associate as a + friend with people who did them. To get away from Dublin was the first + necessity. For a moment it occurred to him that he might go to Dr. Henry, + tell him the whole story, and ask for advice and help. But that was + impossible. How could he confess the degradation of his ideal? How could + he resist the inevitable reminder that he had been warned beforehand? + Besides, not even now, after all that he had seen, could he accept Dr. + Henry’s point of view. He still believed in Ireland, still hoped to serve + her, still looked for the coming of his father’s captain to lead the + saints to the final victory. Miss Goold had failed him, but he was not yet + ready to enrol himself a citizen of England. + </p> + <p> + No, he must leave Dublin. But where to go? His lamp burnt dim and expired + as he sat thinking. His fire had long ago gone out. He shivered with cold + and misery, while the faint light of the dawn stole into his room. He + heard the first twitter of the birds in the convent garden behind his + lodging. Then came the noise of the earliest traffic, the unnaturally loud + rattle of the dust-carts on their rounds. A steamer hooted far away down + the river, and an early bell rang the neighbouring nuns to prayer. + Hyacinth grew desperate. Could he go home, back to the fishing-boats and + simple people of Carrowkeel? A great desire for the old scenes seized upon + him. He fought against it with all his might. He had rejected the offer of + the home life once. Now, no doubt, it would be closed against him. The + boat that might have been his was sold long ago. He would not go back to + confess himself a fool and a failure. + </p> + <p> + Gradually his mind worked back over the conversation in the hotel with + Captain Quinn. The recollection of the latter part of it, which had meant + nothing at the time, grew clear. He felt for the letter in his pocket, and + drew it out. After all, why should he not offer himself to James Quinn? + Ballymoy was remote enough to be a hiding-place. It was in County Mayo, + the Captain had said. He had never heard of the place, and it seemed + likely that no one else, except its inhabitants, knew of it either. At + least, there was no reason that he could see why he should not go there. + His brain refused to work any longer, either at planning or remembering. + His lips formed the word Ballymoy. He repeated it again and again. He + seemed to go on repeating it in the troubled sleep which came to him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + The Irish get credit, even from their enemies, for being a quick-witted, + imaginative, and artistic people, yet they display astonishingly little + taste or originality in their domestic architecture. In Connaught, where + the Celtic genius may be supposed to have the freest opportunity for + expressing itself, the towns are all exactly alike, and their resemblance + consists in the absence of any beauty which can please the eye. An English + country town, although the English bucolic is notoriously as stupid as an + ox, has certain features of its own. So has a Swiss cottage or a French + village. It is possible to represent these upon Christmas cards or the + lids of chocolate-boxes without labelling them English, Swiss, or French. + Any moderately well educated young lady will recognise them at once, and + exclaim without hesitation, ‘How truly English!’ or ‘How sweetly Swiss!’ + But no one can depict an Irish town with any hope of having it recognised + unless he idealizes boldly, introducing a highly-intelligent pig, or a man + in knee-breeches kissing a fancifully-attired colleen. And then, after + all, he might as well have labelled it Irish at once in good plain print, + and saved himself the trouble of drawing the symbolic figures. + </p> + <p> + To describe Ballymoy, therefore, mountains, rivers, and such like natural + eccentricities being left out of the count, is to describe fifty other + West of Ireland towns. There is a railway-station, bleak, gray, and + windswept, situated, for the benefit of local car-owners, a mile and a + half from the town, and the road which connects the two is execrable. + There is a workhouse, in Ballymoy as everywhere else in this lost land the + most prominent building. There is a convent, immense and wonderfully + white, with rows and rows of staring windows and a far-seen figure of the + Blessed Virgin, poised in a niche above the main door. There is a Roman + Catholic church, gray-walled, gray-roofed, and unspeakably hideous, but + large and, like the workhouse and the convent, obtruding itself upon the + eye. It seems as if the inhabitants of the town must all of them be + forced, and that at no distant date, either into religion or pauperism, + just as small bodies floating in a pond are sucked into connection with + one or other of the logs which lie among them. The shops in the one + tortuous street block the footpaths in front of their doors with piles of + empty packing-cases. The passenger is saluted, here by a buffet in the + face from a waterproof coat suspended outside a draper’s, there by a hot + breath of whisky-laden air. Two shops out of every three are + public-houses. These occupy a very beautiful position in the economic life + of the town. Their profits go to build the church, to pay the priests, and + to fill the coffers of the nuns. The making of the profits fills the + workhouse. A little aloof stands the Protestant church, austere to look + upon, expressing in all its lines a grim reproach of the people’s life. + Beyond it, among scanty, stooped trees, is the rectory, gray, as + everything else is, wearing, like a decayed lady, the air of having lived + through better days. + </p> + <p> + Such, save for one feature, is Ballymoy, as the traveller sees it, as + Hyacinth Conneally saw it when he arrived there one gusty afternoon. The + one unusual feature is Mr. James Quinn’s woollen mill. It stands, a gaunt + and indeed somewhat dilapidated building, at the bottom of the street, in + the angle where the river turns sharply to flow under the bridge. The + water just above the bridge is swept into a channel and forced to turn the + wheel which works some primitive machinery within. In the centre of the + mill’s front is an archway through which carts pass into the paved square + behind. Here is the weighbridge, and here great bundles of heavy-smelling + fleeces are unloaded. Off the square is the office where Mr. Quinn sits, + pays for the wool, and enters the weight of it in damp ledgers. Here on + Saturdays two or three men and a score of girls receive their wages. The + business is a peculiar one. You may bring your wool to Mr. Quinn in + fleeces, just as you sheer it off the sheep’s back. He will pay you for + it, more or less, according to the amount of trouble you have taken with + your sheep. This is the way the younger generation likes to treat its + wool. If you are older, and are blessed with a wife able to card and spin, + you deal differently with Mr. Quinn. For many evenings after the shearing + your wife sits by the fireside with two carding-combs in her hands, and + wipes off them wonderfully soft rolls of wool. Afterwards she fetches the + great wheel from its nook, and you watch her pulling out an endless gray + thread while she steps back and forwards across the floor. The girls watch + her, too, but not, as you do, with sleepy admiration. Their emotion is + amused contempt. Nevertheless, your kitchen wall is gradually decorated + with bunches of great gray balls. When these have accumulated + sufficiently, you take them to Mr. Quinn. A certain number of them become + his property. Out of the rest he will weave what you like—coarse + yellow flannel, good for bawneens, and, when it is dyed crimson, for + petticoats; or blankets—not fluffy like the blankets that are bought + in shops, but warm to sleep under when the winter comes; or perhaps + frieze, very thick and rough, the one fabric that will resist the winter + rain. + </p> + <p> + This portion of his business Mr. Quinn finds to be decreasing year by + year. Fewer and fewer women care to card and spin the wool. The younger + men find it more profitable to sell it at once, and to wear, instead of + the old bawneens, shirts called flannel which are brought over from + cotton-spinning Lancashire, and sold in the shops. The younger women think + that they look prettier in gowns made artfully by the local dressmaker out + of feeble materials got up to catch the eye. If now and then, for the sake + of real warmth, one of them makes a petticoat of the old crimson flannel, + it is kept so short that, save in very heavy rain, it can be concealed. + Unfortunately, while these old-fashioned profits are vanishing, Mr. Quinn + finds it very hard to increase the other branch of his business. The + fabrics which he makes are good, so good that he finds it difficult to + sell them in the teeth of competition. The country shops are flooded with + what he calls ‘shoddy.’ An army of eager commercial travellers pushes + showy goods on the shopkeepers and the public at half his price. Even the + farmers in remote districts are beginning to acquire a taste for + smartness. Some things in which he used to do a useful trade are now + scarcely worth making. There is hardly any demand for the checked + head-kerchiefs. The women prefer hats and bonnets, decked with cheap + ribbons or artificial flowers; and these bring no trade to Mr. Quinn’s + mill. Still, he manages to hold on. The Lancashire people, though they + have invented flannelette, cannot as yet make a passable imitation of + frieze, and there is a Dublin house which buys annually all the blankets + he can turn out. It is true that even there, and for the best class of + customers, prices have to be cut so as to leave a bare margin of profit. + Yet since there is a margin, Mr. Quinn holds on, though not very + hopefully. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth left the bulk of his luggage—a packing-case containing the + books which the auctioneer had failed to dispose of in Carrowkeel—at + the station, and walked into Ballymoy carrying his bag. He had little + difficulty in making his way to the mill, and found the owner of it in his + office. It was difficult at first to believe that James Quinn could be any + relation to Captain Albert, the traveller, horse-dealer, soldier, and + thief. This man was tall, though he stooped when he stood to receive his + visitor. His movements were slow. His fair hair lay thin across his + forehead, and was touched above the ears with gray. His blue eyes were + very gentle, and had a way of looking long and steadily at what they saw. + A glance at his face left the impression that life, perhaps by no very + gentle means, had taught him patience. + </p> + <p> + ‘This letter will introduce me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is from your brother, + Captain, or Mr. Albert, Quinn.’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn took the letter, and turned it over slowly. Then, without + opening it, he laid it on the table in front of him. His eyes travelled + from it to Hyacinth’s face, and rested there. It was some time before he + spoke, and then it was to correct Hyacinth upon a trivial point. + </p> + <p> + ‘My half-brother,’ he said. ‘My father married twice, and Albert is the + son of his second wife. You may have noticed that he is a great deal + younger than I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He looks younger, certainly,’ said Hyacinth, for the other was waiting + for a reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nearly twenty years younger. Albert is only just thirty.’ + </p> + <p> + The exact age of the Captain was uninteresting and seemed to be beside the + purpose of the visit. Hyacinth shifted his chair and fidgeted, uncertain + what to do or say next. + </p> + <p> + ‘Albert gave you this letter to me. Is he a friend of yours?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn looked at him again steadily. It seemed—but this may + have been fancy—that there was a kindlier expression in his eyes + after the emphatic repudiation of friendship with Albert. At length he + took up the letter, and read it through slowly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did my brother give you this letter?’ + </p> + <p> + The question was a puzzling one. Hyacinth had never thought of trying to + understand the Captain’s motives. Then the conversation in the hotel + recurred to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘He said that he wanted to do a good turn to me and to you also.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What had you done for him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + Apparently James Quinn was not in the least vexed at the brevity of the + answers he received, or disturbed because his cross-examination was + obviously disagreeable to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘In this letter,’ he went on, referring to the document as he spoke, ‘he + describes you as a young man who is “certainly honest, probably religious, + and possibly intelligent.” I presume you know my brother, and if you do, + you may be surprised to hear that I am quite prepared to take his word for + all this. I have very seldom known Albert to tell me lies, and I don’t + know why he should want to deceive me in this case. Still, I am a little + puzzled to account for his giving you the letter. Can you add nothing in + the way of explanation to what you have said?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know that I can,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you tell me how you met my brother, and what he is doing now, or + where he is?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not think I should be justified in doing so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well! I can understand that in certain circumstances Albert would be + very grateful to a man who would hold his tongue. He might be quite + willing to do you a good turn if you undertook to answer no questions + about him.’ + </p> + <p> + He smiled as he spoke, a little grimly, but there was laughter lurking in + the corners of his eyes. A Puritan will sometimes smile in such a way at + the thought of a sinful situation, too solemn to be laughed at openly, but + appealing to a not entirely atrophied sense of humour. Hyacinth felt + reassured. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed,’ he said, ‘I made no promise of silence. It is only that—well, + I don’t think——’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn waited patiently for the conclusion of the sentence, but + Hyacinth never arrived at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘In this letter,’ he said at last, ‘my brother asks me to give you the + place he lately held in my business. Now, I don’t want to press you to say + anything you don’t want to, but before we go further I must ask you this, + Were you implicated in the affair yourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon. I don’t quite understand what you mean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I suppose that since my brother is anxious that you should hold + your tongue, he has done something that won’t bear talking about. Were you + implicated in—in whatever the trouble was?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ said Hyacinth. ‘In fact, it was on account of what you + speak of as “trouble” that I declined to have anything more to do with + your brother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is probably very much to your credit, and, in the light of my + brother’s estimate of your character, I may say that I entirely believe + what you say. Am I to understand that you are an applicant for the post in + my business which Albert held, and which this letter tells me I may + consider vacant?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is what brought me down here,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you any other recommendations or testimonials as to character to + show me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. But there are several people who would answer questions about me if + you wrote to them: Dr. Henry, of Trinity College, would, or Miss Augusta + Goold, or Father Moran, of Carrowkeel, in County Galway.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have given me the most remarkable list of references I ever came + across in my life. I don’t suppose anyone ever before was recommended for + a post by a Protestant divinity professor, a notoriously violent political + agitator, a Roman Catholic priest, and a—well, we won’t describe my + brother. How do you come to be mixed up with all these people? Who are + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am the son of Æneas Conneally, Rector of Carrowkeel, who died last + Christmas.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said James Quinn, ‘I suppose if all these people are prepared to + recommend you, your character must be all right. Now, tell me, do you know + what the post is you are applying for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And I may as well say that I have had no experience + or business training whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I should suppose from the way you have come to me. Well, my brother + was clerk and traveller for my business. He was supposed to help me to + keep accounts and to push the sale of my goods among the shopkeepers in + Connaught. As a matter of fact, he never did either the one or the other. + When he was at home he did nothing. When he was on the road he bought and + sold horses. I paid him eighty pounds a year and his travelling expenses. + I also promised him a percentage on the profits of the sales he effected. + Now, do you think this work would suit you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I might not be able to do it,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but I should very much + like to be allowed to try. I can understand that I shall be very little + use at first, and I am willing to work without any salary for a time, + perhaps six months, until I have learned something about your business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, now, that’s a business-like offer. I’ll give you a trial, if it was + only for the sake of your list of references. I won’t keep you six months + without paying you if you turn out to be any good at all. And I think + there must be something in you, for you’ve gone about getting this job in + the queerest way I ever heard of. Would you like any time to make up your + mind finally before accepting the post?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I accept at once.’ + </p> + <p> + They walked together through the mill, and looked at the machines and the + workers. The girls smiled when Mr. Quinn stopped to speak to them, and + looked with frank curiosity at Hyacinth. The three or four men who did the + heavier work stopped and chatted for a few minutes when they came to them. + Evidently there was no soreness or distrust here between the employer and + the employed. When they had gone through the rooms where the work was + going on, they climbed a staircase like a ladder, and came to the loft + where the wool was stored. Hyacinth handled it as he was directed, and + endeavoured to appreciate the difference between the good and the inferior + qualities. They passed by an unglazed window at the back of the mill, and + Mr. Quinn pointed out his own house. It stood among trees and shrubs, now + for the most part bare, but giving promise of shady privacy in summertime. + Long windows opened out on to a lawn stretching down to the watercourse + which fed the millwheel. A gravel path skirted one side of the house + leading to a bridge, and thence to a doorway in a high wall, beyond which + lay the road. As they looked the door opened, and a woman with two little + girls came through. They crossed the bridge, and walked up to the house. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is my wife,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘and my two little girls.’ + </p> + <p> + He stretched out between the bars of the window, and shouted to them. All + three looked back. Mrs. Quinn waved her hand, and the two children shouted + in reply. Then a light appeared in one of the windows, and Hyacinth caught + a glimpse of a trim maid-servant pulling the curtains across it. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall be having tea at half-past six,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘Will you come + and join us? By the way, where are you staying?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth accepted the invitation, and confessed that he had not as yet + looked for any place to lay his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Better go to the hotel for to-night. It’s not much of a place, but + you will have to learn to put up with that sort of accommodation. Tomorrow + we’ll try and find you some decent lodgings.’ + </p> + <p> + The hotel struck even Hyacinth as of inferior quality, though it boasted + great things in the timetable advertisements, and called itself ‘Imperial’ + in large gold letters above its door. A smell of whisky and tobacco + greeted him as he entered, and a waiter with a greasy coat, in answer to + inquiries about a bed, sent him down a dark passage to seek a lady called + Miss Sweeney at the bar. Large leather cases with broad straps and + waterproof-covered baskets blocked the passage, and Hyacinth stumbled + among them for some time before he discovered Miss Sweeney reading a + periodical called <i>Spicy Bits</i> among her whisky-bottles. She was a + young woman of would-be fashionable appearance, and acted apparently in + the double capacity of barmaid and clerk. On hearing that Hyacinth + required, not whisky, but a bedroom, she requested him to go forward to + the office, indicating a glass case at the far end of the bar counter. + Here he repeated his request to her through a small opening in the glass, + and received her assurance, given with great condescension, that No. 42 + was vacant, and, further, that there was a fire in the commercial room. A + boy whom she summoned carried Hyacinth’s bag to an extremely dirty and + ill-furnished bedroom, and afterwards conducted him to the promised fire. + Two other guests were seated at it when he entered, who, after a long + stare, made room for him. Apparently there was no one else stopping in the + hotel, and the whole mass of cumbrous baggage which blocked the passage to + the bar must belong to them. Hyacinth realized, with a feeling of disgust + which he could not account for, that these were two members of his new + profession—fellow-travellers in the voyages of commerce. He gathered—for + they talked loudly, without regarding his presence—that they + represented two Manchester firms which were rivals in the wholesale + drapery business. Very much of what they said was unintelligible to him, + though the words were familiar. He knew that ‘lines’ could be ‘quoted,’ + but not apparently in the same sense in which they discussed these + operations, and it puzzled him to hear of muslins being ‘done at one and + seven-eighths.’ He sat for a time wondering at the waste of money and + energy involved in sending these men to remote corners of Ireland to + search for customers. Then he left them, and made his way down the muddy + street to Mr. Quinn’s house. + </p> + <p> + The room into which he was shown was different from any he had ever seen. + It was lit by a single lamp with a dull glass globe and a turf fire which + burnt brightly. Two straight-backed, leather-covered chairs stood one on + either side of the tiled hearth. Near one stood a little table covered + with neatly-arranged books, and, rising from among them, a reading-lamp, + as yet unlit. Beyond the other was a work-table strewed with reels and + scissors, on which lay a child’s frock and some stockings. The table was + laid for tea. On it were plates piled up with floury scones, delicate + beleek saucers full of butter patted thin into the shapes of shells, and + jam in coloured glass dishes cased in silver filigree. A large home-baked + loaf of soda bread on a wooden platter stood at one end of the table, and + near it a sponge-cake. At the other end was an array of cups and saucers + with silver spoons that glittered, a jug of cream, and one of milk. Two of + the cups were larger than the others, and had those curious bars across + them which are designed to save men from wetting their moustaches when + they drink. No room and no preparation for a meal could have offered a + more striking contrast to Augusta Goold’s dining-room, her groups of + wineglasses, multiplicity of heavy-handled knives and forks, and her + candles shrouded in silk. Nor was the dainty neatness less remote from the + cracked delf and huddled sordidness of his old home. + </p> + <p> + Long before Hyacinth had realized an impression of the scene before him + Mrs. Quinn greeted him, and led him to the fire. Her two little girls, who + lay on the hearthrug with a picture-book between them, were bidden to make + room for him. When her husband appeared she bustled off, and in a minute + or two she and the maid came in bringing toast and tea and hot water + hissing in a silver urn. + </p> + <p> + As the evening passed Hyacinth began to realize that he had entered into a + home of peace. He felt that these people were neither greatly anxious to + be rich nor much afraid of being poor. They seemed in no way fretted that + there were others higher in the social scale, cleverer or more brilliant + than they were. He understood that they were both of them religious in a + way quite different from any he had known. They neither spoke of + mysteries, like his father, nor were eager about disputings, like the men + who had been his fellow-students. They were living a very simple life, of + which faith and a wide charity formed a part as natural as eating or + sleeping. When the children’s bedtime came it seemed to him a very + wonderful thing that they should kneel in turns beside their father’s knee + and say their prayers aloud, when he, a stranger, was in the room. It + seemed to him less strange, because then he had been two hours longer in + the company of the Quinns, that before leaving he, too, should kneel + beside his hostess and listen while his new employer repeated the familiar + words of some of the old collects he had heard his father read in church. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + On Sunday, the third day after his arrival in Ballymoy, Hyacinth went to + church. He could hardly have avoided doing so, even if he had wanted to, + for Mrs. Quinn invited him to share her pew. There was no real necessity + for such hospitality, for the church was never, even under the most + favourable circumstances, more than half full. The four front seats were + reserved for a Mr. Stack, on whose property the town of Ballymoy stood. + But this gentleman preferred to live in Surrey, and even when he came over + to Ireland for the shooting rarely honoured the church with his presence. + A stone tablet, bearing the name of this magnate’s father, a Cork + pawnbroker, who had purchased the property for a small sum under the + Encumbered Estates Court Act, adorned the wall beside the pulpit. The + management of the property was in the hands of a Dublin firm, so the + parish was deprived of the privilege of a resident land agent. The doctor, + recently appointed to the district, was a Roman Catholic of plebeian + antecedents, which reduced the resident gentry of Ballymoy to the Quinns, + a bank manager, and the Rector, Canon Beecher. A few farmers, Mr. Stack’s + gamekeeper, and the landlady of the Imperial Hotel, made up the rest of + the congregation. + </p> + <p> + The service was not of a very attractive or inspiriting kind. Canon + Beecher—his title was a purely honorary one, not even involving the + duty of preaching in the unpretending building which, in virtue of some + forgotten history, was dignified with the name of Killinacoff Cathedral—read + slowly with somewhat ponderous emphasis. His thirty years in Holy Orders + had slightly hardened an originally luscious Dublin brogue, but there + remained a certain gentle aspiration of the <i>d’s</i> and <i>t’s</i>, and + a tendency to omit the labial consonants altogether. He read an immense + number of prayers, gathering, as it seemed to Hyacinth, the longest ones + from the four corners of the Prayer-Book. At intervals he allowed himself + to be interrupted with a hymn, but resumed afterwards the steady flow of + supplication. The eldest Miss Beecher—the Canon had altogether two + daughters and three sons—played a harmonium. The other girl and the + three boys, with the assistance of an uncertain bass from Mr. Quinn, gave + utterance to the congregation’s praise. Hyacinth tried to join in the + first hymn, which happened to be familiar to him, but quavered into + silence towards the end of the second verse, discovering that the eyes of + Mrs. Beecher from her pew, of the Canon from the reading-desk, of the + vocal Miss Beecher and her brothers, were fixed upon him. The sermon + proved to be long and uninteresting. It was about Melchizedek, and was so + far appropriate to the Priest and King that it had no recognisable + beginning and need not apparently have ever had an end. Perhaps no one, + unless he were specially trained for the purpose, could have followed + right through the quiet meanderings of the Canon’s thought. This kind of + sermon, however, has the one advantage that the listener can take it up + and drop it again at any point without inconvenience, and Hyacinth was + able to give his attention to some sections of it. There was no attempt at + eloquence or any kind of learning displayed, but he understood, as he + listened, where the Quinns got their religion, or at least how their + religion was kept alive. Certain very simple things were reiterated with a + quiet earnestness which left no doubt that the preacher believed exactly + what he said, and lived by the light of his faith. + </p> + <p> + One evening shortly afterwards Canon Beecher called upon Hyacinth. The + conversation during the visit resolved itself into a kind of catechism, + which, curiously enough, was quite inoffensive. The Canon learnt by + degrees something of Hyacinth’s past life, and his career in Trinity + College. He shook his head gravely over the friendship with Augusta Goold, + whom he evidently regarded as almost beyond the reach of the grace of God. + Hyacinth was forced to admit, with an increasing sense of shame, that he + had never signed a temperance pledge, did not read the organ of the Church + Missionary Society, was not a member of a Young Men’s Christian + Association, or even of a Gleaners’ Union. He felt, as he made each + confession sorrowfully, that he was losing all hope of the Canon’s + friendship, and was most agreeably surprised when the interview closed + with a warm invitation to a mid-day dinner at the Rectory on the following + Sunday. Mrs. Quinn, who took a sort of elder sister’s interest in his + goings out and comings in, was delighted when she heard that he was going + to the Rectory, and assured him that he would like both Mrs. Beecher and + the girls. She confided afterwards to her husband that the influence of a + Christian home was likely to be most beneficial to the ‘poor boy.’ + </p> + <p> + The Rectory displayed none of the signs of easy comfort which had charmed + Hyacinth in the Quinns’ house. The floor of the square hall was covered + with a cheap, well-worn oilcloth. Its walls were damp-stained, and the + only furniture consisted of a wooden chair and a somewhat rickety table. + In the middle of the wall hung a large olive-green card with silver + lettering. ‘Christ is the unseen Guest in this house,’ Hyacinth read, ‘the + Sharer in every pleasure, the Listener to every conversation.’ A fortnight + before, he would have turned with disgust from such an advertisement, but + now, since he had known the Quinns and listened to the Canon’s wandering + sermons, he looked at it with different eyes. He felt that the words might + actually express a fact, and that a family might live together as if they + believed them to be true. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said the Canon, who had come in with him, and saw him gaze at it, + ‘these motto-cards are very nice. I bought several of them last time I was + in Dublin, and I think I have a spare one left which I can give you if you + like. It has silver letters like that one, but printed on a crimson + ground.’ + </p> + <p> + Evidently the design and the colouring were what struck him as noticeable. + The motto itself was a commonplace of Christian living, the expression of + a basal fact, quite naturally hung where it would catch the eye of chance + visitors. + </p> + <p> + In the drawing-room Mrs. Beecher and her two daughters, still in their + hats and gloves, stood round a turf fire. They made a place at once for + Hyacinth, and one of the girls drew forward a rickety basket-work chair, + covered with faded cretonne. He was formally introduced to them. Miss + Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher had both, the latter very recently, reached + the dignity of young womanhood, and wore long dresses. The three boys, who + were younger, were made known afterwards. + </p> + <p> + When they went into the dining-room the Canon selected the soundest of a + miscellaneous collection of chairs for Hyacinth, and seated him beside + Mrs. Beecher. Then the elder girl—Miss Beecher’s name, he learnt, + was Marion—entered in a long apron carrying a boiled leg of mutton + followed by her sister with dishes of potatoes and mashed parsnips. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ said Mrs. Beecher, and there was no note of apology in her + voice as she made the explanation, ‘my girls are accustomed to do a good + deal of the house-work. We have only one servant, and she is not very + presentable when she has just cooked the dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth glanced at Marion Beecher, who smiled at him with frank + friendliness, as she took her seat beside her father. He saw suddenly that + the girl was beautiful. He had not noticed this in church. There he had no + opportunity of observing the subtle grace with which she moved, and the + half-light left unrevealed the lustrous purity of her complexion, the + radiant red and white which only the warm damp of the western seaboard can + give or preserve. Her eyes he had seen even in the church, but now first + he realized what unfathomable gentleness and what a wonder of frank + innocence were in them. The Canon looked round the table at his children, + and there was a humorous twinkle in his eye when he turned to Hyacinth and + quoted: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Your sons shall grow up as young plants, and your daughters shall be as + the polished corners of the temple.”’ + </p> + <p> + Perhaps nine-tenths of civilized mankind would regard five children as + five misfortunes under any circumstances, as quite overwhelming when they + have been showered on a man with a very small income, who is obliged to + live in a remote corner of Ireland. Apparently the Canon did not look upon + himself as an afflicted man at all. There was an unmistakable sincerity + about the way in which he completed his quotation: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Lo! thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.”’ + </p> + <p> + It dawned on Hyacinth that quite possibly the Canon’s view of the + situation might be the right one. It was certainly wonderfully pleasant to + see the girls move through the room, and it seemed to him that they + actually realized the almost forgotten ideal of serviceable womanhood. The + talk at dinner turned first on the ailments of an old woman who was + accustomed to clean the church, but was now suspected of being past her + work; then, by an abrupt transition, on the new hat which the + bank-manager’s wife had brought home from Dublin; and, finally, the + connection of thought being again far from obvious, on the hymns which had + been sung that morning. It was at this point that Hyacinth was included in + the conversation. Marion Beecher announced that one of the hymns was a + special favourite of hers, because she remembered her mother singing the + younger children to sleep with it when they were babies. She caught + Hyacinth looking at her while she spoke, and said to him: + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you sing, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do a little.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, then you must come and help us in the choir.’ ‘Choir’ seemed a + grandiose name for the four Beechers and Mr. Quinn, but Marion, who had + little experience of anything better, had no misgivings. ‘I hope you sing + tenor. I always long to have a tenor in my choir. Why, we might have one + of Barnby’s anthems at Easter, and we haven’t been able to sing one since + Mr. Nash left the bank.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had never sung a part in his life, and could not read music, but + he grew bold, and, professing to have an excellent ear, said he was + willing to learn. The prospect of a long series of choir practices + conducted by Marion Beecher seemed to him just then an extremely pleasant + one. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, while the two girls cleared away the plates and dishes, + Canon Beecher invited Hyacinth to smoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never learnt the habit myself,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t so much the fashion + in my young days as it is now, but I have no objection whatever to the + smell.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth lit a cigarette apologetically. It seemed to him almost a wicked + thing to do, but his host evidently wished him to be comfortable. Their + talk after the girls had left the room turned on politics. Hyacinth’s + confession of his friendship with Augusta Goold had impressed the Canon, + and he delivered himself of a very kindly little lecture on the duty of + loyalty and the sinfulness of contention with the powers that be. His way + of putting the matter neither irritated Hyacinth, like the flamboyant + Imperialism of the Trinity students, nor drove him into self-assertion, + like Dr. Henry’s contemptuous reasonableness. Still, he felt bound to make + some sort of defence of the opinions which were still his own. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ he said, ‘there must be some limit to the duty of loyalty. If a + Government has no constitutional right to rule, is a man bound to be loyal + to it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ said the Canon, ‘that the question is decided for us. Is it + not, Mr. Conneally? “Render unto Caesar”—you remember the verse. + Even if the Government were as unconstitutional as you appear to think, it + would not be more so than the Roman Government of Judaea when these words + were spoken.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth pondered this answer. It opened up to him an entirely new way of + looking at the subject, and he could see that it might be necessary for a + Christian to acquiesce without an attempt at resistance in any Government + which happened to exist. + </p> + <p> + He remembered other verses in the New Testament which could be quoted even + more conclusively in favour of this passive obedience. Yet he felt that + there must be a fallacy lurking somewhere. It was, on the face of it, an + obvious absurdity to think that a man, because he happened to be a + Christian, was therefore bound to submit to any form of tyranny or + oppression. + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose,’ he said—‘I only say suppose—that a Government did + immoral things, that it robbed or allowed evil-disposed people to rob, + would it still be right to be loyal?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so,’ said the Canon quietly. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at him in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean to say that you yourself would be loyal under such + circumstances?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I prefer not to discuss the question in that personal way, but the Church + to which you and I belong is loyal still, although the Government has + robbed us of our property and our position, and although it is now + allowing our people to be robbed still further.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean by the Disestablishment and the Land Acts?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. I think it is our great glory that our loyalty is imperishable, that + it survives even such treatment as we have received and are receiving.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very beautiful,’ said Hyacinth slowly. ‘I see that there is a + great nobility in such loyalty, although I do not even wish to share it + myself. You see, I am an Irishman, and I want to see my country great and + free.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose,’ said the Canon, ‘that it is very natural that we should love + the spot on earth in which we live. I think that I love Ireland too. But + we must remember that our citizenship is in heaven, and it seems to me + that any departure from the laws of the King of that country dishonours + us, and even dishonours the earthly country which we call our own.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth said nothing. There flashed across him a recollection of Augusta + Goold’s hope that some final insult would one day goad the Irish + Protestants into disloyalty. Clearly, if Canon Beecher was to be regarded + as a type, she had no conception of the religious spirit of the Church of + Ireland. But was there anyone else like this clergyman? He did not know, + but he guessed that his friends the Quinns would think of the matter in + somewhat the same way. It seemed to him quite possible that in scattered + and remote parishes this strangely unreasonable conception of Christianity + might survive. After a pause the Canon went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘You must not think that I do not love Ireland too. I look forward to + seeing her free some day, but with the freedom of the Gospel. It will not + be in my time, I know, but surely it will come to pass. Our people have + still the simple faith of the early ages, and they have many very + beautiful virtues. They only want the dawn of the Dayspring from on high + to shine on them, and then Ireland will be once more the Island of Saints—<i>insula + sanctorum</i>.’ He dwelt tenderly on the two words. ‘I do not think it + will matter much then what earthly Government bears rule over us. But + come, I see that you have finished your smoke, and I must go to my study + to think over my sermon.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth entered the drawing-room the girls surrounded him, asking + him for answers to a printed list of questions. It appeared that the + committee of a bazaar for some charity in which it was right to be + interested had issued a sort of examination-paper, and promised a prize to + the best answerer. The questions were all of one kind: ‘What is the Modern + Athens—the Eternal City—the City of the Tribes? Who was the + Wizard of the North—the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith? The earlier + names on the list presented little difficulty to Hyacinth. Marion took + down his answers, whilst Elsie murmured a pleasant chorus of astonishment + at his cleverness. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. ‘Who was the Martyr of + Melanesia?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have never heard of him,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never heard of the Martyr of Melanesia!’ said Elsie. ‘Why, we knew that + at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Marion, ‘there was an article on him in last month’s <i>Gleaner</i>. + Surely you read the <i>Gleaner</i>, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt Marion’s eyes fixed on him with something of a reproach in + them. He wrestled with a vague recollection of having somewhere heard the + name of the periodical. For a moment he thought of risking + cross-questioning, and saying that he had only missed the last number. + Then he suddenly remembered the card with silver lettering which hung + above his coat in the hall, and told the truth with even a quite + unnecessary aggravation. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I never remember seeing a copy of it in my life. I don’t even know + what it is about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said the girls, round-eyed with horror. ‘Just think! And we all have + collecting-boxes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a missionary periodical,’ said Marion. ‘It has news in it from + every corner of the mission-field, and every month a list of the stations + that specially need our prayers.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth left the Rectory that night with three well-read numbers of the + <i>Gleaner</i> in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards he had many talks with Canon Beecher and the Quinns about the + work of the missionary societies. He learnt, to his surprise, that really + immense sums of money were subscribed every year by members of the Church + of Ireland for the conversion of the heathen in very remote parts of the + world. It could not be denied that these contributions represented genuine + self-denial. Young men went without a sufficiency of tobacco, and + refrained from buying sorely-needed new tennis-racquets. Ladies, with the + smallest means at their command, reared marketable chickens, and sold + their own marmalade and cakes. In such ways, and not from the superfluity + of the rich, many thousands of pounds were gathered annually. It was still + more wonderful to him to discover that large numbers of young men and + women, and these the most able and energetic, devoted themselves to this + foreign service, and that their brothers and sisters at home were banded + together in unions to watch their doings and to pray for them. He found + himself entirely untouched by this enthusiasm, in spite of the beautiful + expression it found in the lives of his new friends. + </p> + <p> + But it astonished him greatly that there should be this potent energy in + the Irish Church. The utter helplessness of its Bishops and clergy in + Irish affairs, the total indifference of its people to every effort at + national regeneration, had led him to believe that the Church itself was + moribund. Now he discovered that there was in it an amazing vitality, a + capacity of giving birth to enthusiastic souls. The knowledge brought with + it first of all a feeling of intense irritation. It seemed to him that all + religions were in league against Ireland. The Roman Church seized the + scanty savings of one section of the people, and squandered them in buying + German glass and Italian marble. Were the Protestants any better, when + they spent £20,000 a year on Chinamen and negroes? The Roman Catholics + took the best of their boys and girls to make priests and nuns of them. + The Protestants were doing the same thing when they shipped off their + young men and young women to spend their strength among savages. Both were + robbing Ireland of what Ireland needed most—money and vitality. He + would not say, even to himself, that all this religious enthusiasm was so + much ardour wasted. No doubt the Roman priest did good work in Chicago, as + the Protestant missionary did in Uganda; only it seemed to him that of all + lands Ireland needed most the service and the prayers of those of her + children who had the capacity of self-forgetfulness. Afterwards, when he + thought more deeply, he found a great hope in the very existence of all + this altruistic enthusiasm. He had a vision of all that might be done for + Ireland if only the splendid energy of her own children could be used in + her service. He tried more than once to explain his point of view. Mr. + Quinn met him with blank disbelief in any possible future for Ireland. + </p> + <p> + ‘The country is doomed,’ he said. ‘The people are lazy, thriftless, and + priest-ridden. The best of them are flying to America, and those that + remain are dying away, drifting into lunatic asylums, hospitals, and + workhouses. There is a curse upon us. In another twenty years there will + be no Irish people—at least, none in Ireland. Then the English and + Scotch will come and make something of the country.’ + </p> + <p> + From Canon Beecher he met with scarcely more sympathy or understanding. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘no doubt we ought to make more efforts than we do to + convert our fellow-countrymen. But it is very difficult to see how we are + to go to work. There is one society which exists for this purpose. Its + friends are full of the very kind of enthusiasm which you describe. I + could point you out plenty of its agents whose whole souls are in their + work, but you know as well as I do how completely they are failing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I do not in the least mean that we should start + more missions to Roman Catholics. It does not seem to me to matter much + what kind of religion a man professes, and I should be most unwilling to + uproot anyone’s belief. What we ought to do is throw our whole force and + energy into the work of regenerating Ireland. It is possible for us to do + this, and we ought to try.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said the Canon, ‘I must not let you make me argue with you, + Conneally; but I hope you won’t preach these doctrines of yours to my + daughters. I think it is better for them to drop their pennies into + missionary collecting-boxes, and leave the tangled problems of Irish + politics to those better able to understand them than we are.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + There are certain professions, in themselves honest, useful, and even + estimable, for which society has agreed to entertain a feeling of + contempt. It is, for instance, very difficult to think of a curate as + anything except a butt for satirists, or to be respectful to the + profession of tailoring, although many a man for private pecuniary reasons + is meek before the particular individual who makes his clothes. Yet the + novelist and the playwright, who hold the mirror up to modern humanity, + are occasionally kind even to curates and tailors. There is a youthful + athlete in Holy Orders who thrashes, to our immense admiration, the + village bully, bewildering his victim and his admirers with his mastery of + what is described a little vaguely as the ‘old Oxford science.’ Once, at + least, a glamour of romance has been shed over the son of a tailor, and it + becomes imaginable that even the chalker of unfinished coats may in the + future be posed as heroic. There is still, however, a profession which no + eccentric novelist has ever ventured to represent as other than entirely + contemptible. The commercial traveller is beneath satire, and outside the + region of sympathy. If he appears at all in fiction or on the stage, he is + irredeemably vulgar. He is never heroic, never even a villain, rarely + comic, always, poor man, objectionable. This is a peculiar thing in the + literature of a people like the English, who are not ashamed to glory in + their commercial success, and are always ready to cheer a politician who + professes to have the interests of trade at heart. Amid the current + eulogies of the working man and the apotheosis of the beings called + ‘Captains of Industry,’ the bagman surely ought to find at least an + apologist. Without him it seems likely that many articles would fail to + find a place in the windows of the provincial shopkeepers. Without him + large sections of the public would probably remain ignorant for years of + new brands of cigarettes, and dyspeptic people might never come across the + foods which Americans prepare for their use. + </p> + <p> + Also the individual bagman is often not without his charm. He knows, if + not courts and princes, at least hotels and railway companies. He is on + terms of easy familiarity with every ‘boots’ in several counties. He can + calculate to a nicety how long a train is likely to be delayed by a fair + ‘somewhere along the line.’ He is also full of information about local + politics. In Connaught, for instance, an experienced member of the + profession will gauge for you the exact strength of the existing League in + any district. He knows what publicans may be regarded as ‘priest’s men,’ + and who have leanings towards independence. His knowledge is frequently + minute, and he can prophesy the result of a District Council election by + reckoning up the number of leading men who read the <i>United Irishman</i>, + and weighing them against those who delight in the pages of the <i>Leader</i>. + The men who can do these things are themselves local. They reside in their + district, and, as a rule, push the sales and collect the debts of local + brewers and flour-merchants. The representatives of the larger English + firms only make their rounds twice or three times a year, and are less + interesting. They pay the penalty of being cosmopolitan, and tend to + become superficial in their judgment of men and things. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, like most members of the public, was ignorant of the greatness + and interest of his new profession. He entered upon it with some + misgiving, and viewed his trunk of sample blankets and shawls with + disgust. Even a new overcoat, though warm and weatherproof, afforded him + little joy, being itself a sample of Mr. Quinn’s frieze. One thought alone + cheered him, and even generated a little enthusiasm for his work. It + occurred to him that in selling the produce of the Ballymoy Mill he was + advancing the industrial revival of Ireland. He knew that other people, + quite heroic figures, were working for the same end. A Government Board + found joyous scope for the energies of its officials in giving advice to + people who wanted to cure fish or make lace. It earned the blessing which + is to rest upon those who are reviled and evil spoken of, for no one, + except literary people, who write for English magazines, ever had a good + word for it. There were also those—their activity took the form of + letters to the newspapers—who desired to utilize the artistic + capacity of the Celt, and to enrich the world with beautiful fabrics and + carpentry. They, too, were workers in the cause of the revival. Then there + were great ladies, the very cream of the Anglo-Irish aristocracy, who + petted tweeds and stockings, and offered magnificent prizes to industrious + cottagers. They earned quite large sums of money for their protégés by + holding sales in places like Belfast and Manchester, where titles can be + judiciously cheapened to a wealthy bourgeoisie, and the wives of + ship-builders and cotton-spinners will spend cheerfully in return for the + privilege of shaking hands with a Countess. A crowd of minor enthusiasts + fostered such industries as sprigging, and there was one man who believed + that the future prosperity of Ireland might be secured by teaching people + to make dolls. It was altogether a noble army, and even a commercial + traveller might hold his head high in the world if he counted himself one + of its soldiers. Hitherto results have not been at all commensurate with + the amount of printer’s ink expended in magazine articles and + advertisements. Yet something has been accomplished. Nunneries here and + there have been induced to accept presents of knitting-machines, and + people have begun to regard as somehow sacred the words ‘technical + education.’ The National Board of Education has also spent a large sum of + money in reviving among its teachers the almost forgotten art of making + paper boats. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth very soon discovered that his patriotic view of this work did not + commend itself to his brother travellers. He found that they had no + feeling but one of contempt for people whom they regarded as meddling + amateurs. Occasionally, when some convent, under a bustling Mother + Superior, advanced from the region of half-charitable sales at exhibitions + into the competition of the open market, contempt became dislike, and + wishes were expressed in quite unsuitable language that the good ladies + would mind their own proper business. Until Hyacinth learnt to conceal his + hopes of Ireland’s future as a manufacturing country he was regarded with + suspicion. No one, of course, objected to his making what use he could of + patriotism as an advertisement, but he was given to understand that, like + other advertisements, it could not be quoted among the initiated without a + serious breach of good manners. Even as an advertisement it was not rated + highly. + </p> + <p> + There was an elderly gentleman, stout and somewhat bibulous, who + superintended the consumption of certain brands of American cigarettes in + the province of Connaught. Hyacinth met him in the exceedingly dirty + Railway Hotel at Knock. Since there were no other guests, and the evening + was wet, the two were thrown upon each other’s society in the + commercial-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think,’ said Mr. Hollywell, in reply to a remark of Hyacinth’s, + ‘that there’s the least use trying to drag patriotic sentiment into + business. Of course, since you represent an Irish house—woollen + goods, I think you said—you’re quite right to run the fact for all + it’s worth. I don’t in the least blame you. Only I don’t think you’ll find + it pays.’ + </p> + <p> + He sipped his whisky-and-water—it was still early, and he had only + arrived at his third glass—and then proceeded to give his personal + experience. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I work for an American firm. If there was any force in the patriotic + idea I shouldn’t sell a single cigarette. My people are in the big tobacco + combine. You must have read the sort of things the newspapers wrote about + us when we started. From any point of view, British Imperial or Irish + National, we should have been boycotted long ago if patriotism had + anything to do with trade. But look at the facts. Our chief rivals in this + district are two Irish firms. They advertise in Gaelic, which is a mistake + to start with, because nobody can read it. They get the newspaper people + to write articles recommending a “great home industry” to public support. + They get local branches of all the different leagues to pass resolutions + pledging their members to smoke only Irish tobacco. But until quite lately + they simply didn’t have a look in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ asked Hyacinth. ‘Were your things cheaper or better?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the other, ‘I don’t think they were either. You see, prices are + bound to come out pretty even in the long run, and I should say that, if + anything, they sold a slightly better article. It’s hard to say exactly + why we beat them. When competition is really keen a lot of little things + that you would hardly notice make all the difference. For one thing, I get + a free hand in the matter of subscribing to local bazaars and + race-meetings. I’ve often taken as much as a pound’s worth of tickets for + a five-pound note that some priest was raffling in aid of a new chapel. + It’s wonderful the orders you can get from shopkeepers in that kind of + way. Then, we get our things up better. Look at that.’ + </p> + <p> + He handed Hyacinth a highly-glazed packet with a picture of a handsome + brown dog on it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep it,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I give away twenty or thirty of those + packets every week. Now look inside. What have you? Oh, H.M.S. <i>Majestic</i>. + That’s one of a series of photos of “Britain’s first line of defence.” + Lots of people go on buying those cigarettes just to get a complete + collection of the photos. We supply an album to keep them in for one and + sixpence. There’s another of our makes which has pictures of actresses and + pretty women. They are extraordinarily popular. They’re perfectly all + right, of course, from the moral point of view, but one in every ten is in + tights or sitting with her legs very much crossed, just to keep up the + expectation. It’s very queer the people who go for those photos. You’d + expect it to be young men, but it isn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + The subject was not particularly interesting to Hyacinth, but since his + companion was evidently anxious to go on talking, he asked the expected + question. + </p> + <p> + ‘Young women,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I found it out quite by accident. I + got a lot of complaints from one particular town that our cigarettes had + no photos with them. I discovered after a while that a girl in one of the + principal shops had hit on a dodge for getting out the photos without + apparently injuring the packets. The funny thing was that she never + touched the ironclads or the “Types of the soldiers of all nations,” which + you might have thought would interest her, but she collared every single + actress, and had duplicates of most of them. And she wasn’t an exception. + Most girls goad their young men to buy these cigarettes and make + collections of the photos. Queer, isn’t it? I can’t imagine why they do + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You said just now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that latterly you hadn’t done quite + so well. Did you run out of actresses and battleships?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; but one of the Irish firms took to offering prizes and enclosing + coupons. You collected twenty coupons, and you got a silver-backed + looking-glass—girls again, you see—or two thousand coupons, + and you got a new bicycle. It’s an old dodge, of course, but somehow it + always seems to pay. However, all this doesn’t matter to you. All I wanted + was to show you that there is no use relying on patriotism. The thing to + go in for in any business is attractive novelties, cheap lines, and, in + the country shops, long credit.’ + </p> + <p> + It was not very long before Hyacinth began to realize the soundness of Mr. + Hollywell’s contempt for patriotism. In the town of Clogher he found the + walls placarded with the advertisements of an ultra-patriotic draper. + ‘Féach Annseo,’ he read, ‘The Irish House. Support Home Manufactures.’ + Another placard was even more vehement in its appeal. ‘Why curse England,’ + it asked, ‘and support her manufacturers?’ Try O’Reilly, the one-price + man.’ The sentiments were so admirable that Hyacinth followed the advice + and tried O’Reilly. + </p> + <p> + The shop was crowded when he entered, for it was market day in Clogher. + The Irish country-people, whose manners otherwise are the best in the + world, have one really objectionable habit. In the street or in a crowded + building they push their way to the spot they want to reach, without the + smallest regard for the feelings of anyone who happens to be in the way. + Sturdy country-women, carrying baskets which doubled the passage room they + required, hustled Hyacinth into a corner, and for a time defeated his + efforts to emerge. Getting his case of samples safely between his legs, he + amused himself watching the patriot shopkeeper and his assistants + conducting their business. It was perfectly obvious that in one respect + the announcements of the attractive placard departed from the truth: + O’Reilly was not a ‘one-price man,’ He charged for every article what he + thought his customers were likely to pay. The result was that every sale + involved prolonged bargaining and heated argument. In most cases no harm + was done. The country-women were keenly alive to the value of their money, + and evidently enjoyed the process of beating down the price by halfpennies + until the real value of the article was reached. Then Mr. O’Reilly and his + assistants were accustomed to close the haggle with a beautiful formula: + </p> + <p> + ‘To <i>you</i>,’ they said, with confidential smiles and flattering + emphasis on the pronoun—‘to <i>you</i> the price will be one and a + penny; but, really, there will be no profit on the sale.’ + </p> + <p> + Occasionally with timid and inexperienced customers O’Reilly’s method + proved its value. Hyacinth saw him sell a dress-length of serge to a young + woman with a baby in her arms for a penny a yard more than he had charged + a moment before for the same material. Another thing which struck him as + he watched was the small amount of actual cash which was paid across the + counter. Most of the women, even those who seemed quite poor, had accounts + in the shop, and did not shrink from increasing them. Once or twice a + stranger presented some sort of a letter of introduction, and was at once + accommodated with apparently unlimited credit. + </p> + <p> + At length there was a lull in the business, and Hyacinth succeeded in + spreading his goods on a vacant counter, and attracting the attention of + Mr. O’Reilly. He began with shawls. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will give me a good order for these shawls.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly fingered them knowingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Price?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth mentioned a sum which left a fair margin of profit for Mr. Quinn. + O’Reilly shook his head and laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth reduced his price at once as far as possible. + </p> + <p> + ‘No use,’ said Mr. O’Reilly. + </p> + <p> + Compared with the suave oratory to which he treated his customers, this + extreme economy of words was striking. + </p> + <p> + ‘See here,’ he said, producing a bundle of shawls from a shelf beside him. + ‘I get these for twenty-five shillings a dozen less from Thompson and + Taylor of Manchester.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at them curiously. Each bore a prominent label setting + forth a name for the garment in large letters surrounded with wreaths of + shamrocks. ‘The Colleen Bawn,’ he read, ‘Erin’s Own,’ ‘The Kathleen + Mavourneen,’ ‘The Cruiskeen Lawn.’ The appropriateness of this last title + was not obvious to the mere Irishman, but the colour of the garment was + green, so perhaps there was a connection of thought in the maker’s mind + between that and ‘Lawn.’ ‘Cruiskeen’ he may have taken for the name of a + place. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are these,’ asked Hyacinth, ‘what you advertise as Irish goods?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly cleared his throat twice before he replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘They are got up specially for the Irish market.’ In the interests of his + employer Hyacinth kept his temper, but the effort was a severe one. + </p> + <p> + ‘These,’ he said, ‘are half cotton. Mine are pure wool. They are really + far better value even if they were double the price.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t say they’re not, but I should not sell one of yours for every + dozen of the others.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Try,’ said Hyacinth; ‘give them a fair chance. Tell the people that they + will last twice as long. Tell them that they are made in Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That would not be the slightest use. They would simply laugh in my face. + My customers don’t care a pin where the goods are made. I have never in my + life been asked for Irish manufacture.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, why on earth do you stick up those advertisements?’ said Hyacinth, + pointing to the ‘Féach Annseo’ which appeared on a hoarding across the + street. + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly was perfectly frank and unashamed. + </p> + <p> + ‘The other drapery house in the town is owned by a Scotchman, and of + course it pays more or less to keep on saying that I am Irish. Besides, I + mean to stand for the Urban Council in March, and those sort of ads. are + useful at an election, even if they are no good for business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said Hyacinth, shirking a discussion on the + morality of advertising: ‘I’ll let you have a dozen shawls at cost price, + and take back what you can’t sell, if you give me your word to do your + best for them.’ + </p> + <p> + Similar discussions followed the display of serges and blankets. It + appeared that nice-looking goods could be sent over from England at lower + prices. It was vain for Hyacinth to press the fact that his things were + better. Mr. O’Reilly admitted as much. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what am I to do? The people don’t want what is good. They want a + cheap article which looks well, and they don’t care a pin whether the + thing is made in England, Ireland, or America. Take my advice,’ he added + as Hyacinth left the shop: ‘get your boss to do inferior lines—cheap, + cheap and showy.’ + </p> + <p> + So far Mr. Hollywell’s opinions were entirely justified. The appeal of the + patriotic press to the public and the shopkeepers on behalf of the + industrial revival of Ireland had certainly not affected the town of + Clogher. Hyacinth was bitterly disappointed; but hope, when it is born of + enthusiasm, dies hard, and he was greatly interested in a speech which he + read one day in the ‘Mayo Telegraph’. It had been made at a meeting of the + League by an Ardnaree shopkeeper called Dowling. A trade rival—the + fact of the rivalry was not emphasized—had advertised in a Scotch + paper for a milliner. Dowling was exceedingly indignant. He quoted + emigration statistics showing the number of girls who left Mayo every year + for the United States. He pointed out that all of them might be employed + at home, as milliners or otherwise, if only the public would boycott shops + which sold English goods or employed Scotch milliners. He more than + suspected that the obnoxious advertisement was part of an organized + attempt to effect a new plantation of Connaught—‘worse than + Cromwell’s was.’ The fact that Connaught was the only part of Ireland + which Cromwell did not propose to plant escaped the notice of both Mr. + Dowling and his audience. The speech concluded with a passionate + peroration and a verse, no doubt declaimed soundingly, of ‘The West’s + Awake.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made an expedition to Ardnaree, and called hopefully on the + orator. His reception was depressing in the extreme. The shop, which was + large and imposing, was stocked with goods which were obviously English, + and Mr. Dowling curtly refused even to look at the samples of Mr. Quinn’s + manufactures. Hyacinth quoted his own speech to the man, and was amazed at + the cynical indifference with which he ignored the dilemma. + </p> + <p> + ‘Business is one thing,’ he said, ‘and politics is something entirely + different.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth lost his temper completely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall write to the papers,’ he said, ‘and expose you. I shall have your + speech reprinted, and along with it an account of the way you conduct your + business.’ + </p> + <p> + A mean, hard smile crossed Mr. Dowling’s mouth before he answered: + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you don’t know that my wife is the Archbishop’s niece?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth stared at him. For a minute or two he entirely failed to + understand what Mrs. Dowling’s relationship to a great ecclesiastic had to + do with the question. At last a light broke on him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean that an editor wouldn’t print my letter because he would be + afraid of offending a Roman Catholic Archbishop?’ + </p> + <p> + The expression ‘Roman Catholic’ caught Mr. Dowling’s attention. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you a Protestant?’ he asked. ‘You are—a dirty Protestant—and + you dare to come here into my own house, and insult me and trample on my + religious convictions. I’m a Catholic and a member of the League. What do + you mean, you Souper, you Sour-face, by talking to me about Irish + manufactures? Get out of this house, and go to the hell that’s waiting for + you!’ + </p> + <p> + As Hyacinth turned to go, there flashed across his mind the recollection + of Miss Goold and her friends who wrote for the <i>Croppy</i>. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s one paper in Ireland, anyhow,’ he said, ‘which is not afraid of + your wife nor your Archbishop. I’ll write to the <i>Croppy</i>, and you’ll + see if they won’t publish the facts.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dowling grinned. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care if they do,’ he said. ‘The priests are dead against the <i>Croppy</i>, + and there’s hardly a man in the town reads it. Go up there now to Hely’s + and try if you can buy a copy. I tell you it isn’t on sale here at all, + and whatever they publish will do me no harm.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth returned to the hotel he found Mr. Holywell seated, with the + inevitable whisky-and-water beside him, in the commercial-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Mr. Conneally,’ he said, ‘and how is patriotism paying you? Find + people ready to buy what’s Irish?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, boiling over with indignation, related his experience with Mr. + Dowling. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did I tell you?’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘But anyhow you’re just as well + out of a deal with that fellow. I wouldn’t care to do business with him + myself. I happen to know, and you may take my word for it’ —his + voice sunk to a confidential whisper—‘that he’s very deep in the + books of two English firms, and that he daren’t—simply daren’t—place + an order with anyone else. They’d have him in the Bankruptcy Court + to-morrow if he did. I shouldn’t feel easy with Mr. Dowling’s cheque for + an account until I saw how the clerk took it across the bank counter. You + mark my words, there’ll be a fire in that establishment before the year’s + out.’ + </p> + <p> + The prophecy was fulfilled, as Hyacinth learnt from the <i>Mayo Telegraphy</i> + and Mr. Dowling’s whole stock of goods was consumed. There were rumours + that a sceptical insurance company made difficulties about paying the + compensation demanded; but the inhabitants of Ardnaree marked their + confidence in the husband of an Archbishop’s niece by presenting him with + an address of sympathy and a purse containing ten sovereigns. + </p> + <p> + Most of Hyacinth’s business was done with small shopkeepers in remote + districts. The country-people who lived out of reach of such centres of + fashion as Ardnaree and Clogher were sufficiently unsophisticated to + prefer things which were really good. Hats and bonnets were not quite + universal among the women in the mountain districts far back where they + spoke Irish, and Mr. Quinn’s head-kerchiefs were still in request. Even + the younger women wanted garments which would keep them warm and dry, and + Hyacinth often returned well satisfied from a tour of the country shops. + Sometimes he doubted whether he ought to trust the people with more than a + few pounds’ worth of goods, but he gradually learnt that, unlike the + patriotic Mr. Dowling, they were universally honest. He discovered, too, + that these people, with their imperfect English and little knowledge of + the world, were exceedingly shrewd. They had very little real confidence + in oratorical politicians, and their interest in public affairs went no + further than voting consistently for the man their priest recommended. But + they quickly understood Hyacinth’s arguments when he told them that the + support of Irish manufactures would help to save their sons and daughters + from the curse of emigration. + </p> + <p> + ‘Faith, sir,’ said a shopkeeper who kept a few blankets and tweeds among + his flour-sacks and porter-barrels, ‘since you were talking to the boys + last month, I couldn’t induce one of them to take the foreign stuff if I + was to offer him a shilling along with it.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + When he returned to Ballymoy after his interview with Mr. Dowling, + Hyacinth set himself to fulfil his threat of writing to the <i>Croppy</i>. + He spent Saturday afternoon and evening in his lodgings with the paper + containing the blatant speech spread out before him. He blew his anger to + a white heat by going over the evidence of the man’s grotesque hypocrisy. + He wrote and rewrote his article. It was his first attempt at expressing + thought on paper since the days when he sought to satisfy examiners with + disquisitions on Dryden’s dramatic talent and other topics suited to the + undergraduate mind. This was a different business. It was no longer a + question of filling a sheet of foolscap with grammatical sentences, + discovering synonyms for words hard to spell. Now thoughts were hot in + him, and the art lay in finding words which would blister and scorch. Time + after time he tore up a page of bombast or erased ridiculous + flamboyancies. Late at night, with a burning head and ice-cold feet, he + made his last copy, folded it up, and, distrusting the cooler criticism of + the morning, went out and posted it to the <i>Croppy</i>. + </p> + <p> + A letter from Miss Goold overtook him the following Thursday in the hotel + at Clogher. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was delighted to hear from you again,’ she wrote. ‘I was afraid you had + cut me altogether, gone over to the respectable people, and forgotten poor + Ireland. Captain Quinn told me that you and he had quarrelled, and I + gathered that you rather disapproved of him. Well, he was a bit of a + blackguard; but, after all, one doesn’t expect a man who takes on a job of + that kind to be anything else. I never thought it would suit you, and you + will do me the justice of remembering that I never wanted you to + volunteer. Now about your article. It was admirable. These “Cheap + Patriots”’—it was thus the article was headed—‘are just the + creatures we want to scarify. Dowling and his kind are the worst enemies + Ireland has to-day. We’ll publish anything of that kind you send us, and + remember we’re not the least afraid of anybody. It’s a grand thing for a + paper to be as impecunious as the <i>Croppy</i>. No man but a fool would + take a libel action against us with any hope of getting damages. A jury + might value Dowling’s character at any fantastic sum they chose, but it + would be a poor penny the <i>Croppy</i> would pay. Still, we’re not so + hard up that we can’t give our contributors something, and next week + you’ll get a small cheque from the office. I hope it may encourage you to + send us more. Don’t be afraid to speak out. If anything peculiarly + seditious occurs to you, write it in Irish. I know it’s all the same to + you which language you write in. Do us half a column every fortnight or so + on Western life and politics.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was absurdly elated by Miss Goold’s praise. He made up his mind + to contribute regularly to the <i>Croppy</i>, and had visions of a great + future as a journalist, or perhaps a literary exponent of the ideas of + Independent Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, he became very intimate both with the Quinns and with Canon + Beecher’s family. Mrs. Quinn was an enthusiastic gardener, and early in + the spring Hyacinth helped her with her flowerbeds. He learnt to plait the + foliage of faded crocuses, and pin them tidily to the ground with little + wooden forks. He gathered suitable earth for the boxes in which begonias + made their earliest sproutings, and learned to know the daffodils and + tulips by their names. Later on he helped Mr. Quinn to mow the grass and + mix a potent weed-killer for the gravel walks. There came to be an + understanding that, whenever he was not absent on a journey, he spent the + latter part of the afternoon and the evening with the Quinns. As the days + lengthened the family tea was pushed back to later and later hours to give + more time out of doors. + </p> + <p> + There is something about the very occupation of gardening which is + deadening to enthusiasm. Perhaps a man learns patience by familiarity with + growing plants. Nature is never in a hurry in a garden, and there is no + use in trying to hustle a flower, whereas a great impatience is the very + life-spirit of enthusiastic patriotism. There has probably never been a + revolutionary gardener, or even a strong Radical who worked with open-air + flowers. Of course, in greenhouses things can be forced, and the spirit of + the ardent reformer may find expression in the nurture of premature + blooms. Perhaps also the constant stooping which gardening necessitates, + especially in the early spring, when the weeds grow plentifully, tends to + destroy the stiff mental independence which must be the attitude of the + militant patriot. It is very difficult for a man who has stooped long + enough to have conquered his early cramps and aches to face the problems + of politics with uncompromising rigidity. Hyacinth recognised with a + curious qualm of disgust that his thoughts turned less and less to + Ireland’s wrongs and Ireland’s future as he learnt to care for the flowers + and the grass. + </p> + <p> + No doubt, too, the atmosphere of the Quinns’ family life was not congenial + to the spirit of the Irish politician. Mrs. Quinn was totally uninterested + in politics, and except a prejudice in favour of what she called loyalty, + had absolutely no views on any question which did not directly affect her + home and her children. Mr. Quinn had a coldly-reasonable political and + economic creed, which acted on the luxuriant fancies of Hyacinth’s + enthusiasm as his weed-killer did on the tender green of the paths. He + declined altogether to see any good in supporting Irish manufactures + simply because they were Irish. The story of O’Reilly’s attitude towards + his shawls moved him to no indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s perfectly right,’ he said. ‘If a man can buy cheap shawls in + England he would be a fool to pay more for Irish ones. Business can’t be + run on those lines. I’m not an object of charity, and if I can’t meet fair + competition I must go under, and it’s right that I should go under.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had no answer to give. He shirked the point at issue, and + attacked Mr. Quinn along another line in the hope of arousing his + indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is not fair competition that you are called upon to face. Do you + call it fair competition when the Government subsidizes a woollen factory + in a convent?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you are thinking of the four thousand pounds the + Congested Districts Board gave to the convent at Bobeen. But it is hardly + fair to hold the Government responsible for the way that body wastes + eighty thousand pounds a year.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Government is ultimately responsible, and you must admit that, after + such a gift, and in view of the others which will certainly follow, you + are called upon to meet most unfair competition.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I admit that. But isn’t that exactly what you want to make general? + There doesn’t seem to me any difference between giving a bounty to one + industry and imposing a protective tariff in favour of another; and if + your preference for Irish manufactures means anything, it means a sort of + voluntary protection for every business in the country. If you object to + the Robeen business being subsidized you can’t logically try to insist on + mine being protected.’ + </p> + <p> + It was puzzling to have the tables turned on him so adroitly. Hyacinth was + reduced to feeble threat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just wait a while till the nuns get another four thousand pounds, and + perhaps four thousand pounds more after that, and see how it will affect + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Quinn smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not much afraid of nuns as trade competitors, or, for the matter of + that, of the Congested Districts Board either. If the Yorkshire people + would only import a few Mother Superiors to manage their factories, and + take the advice of members of our Board in their affairs, I would + cheerfully make them a present of any reasonable subsidy, and beat them + out of the market afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + There was another influence at work on Hyacinth’s mind which had as much + to do with the decay of his patriotism as either the gardening or Mr. + Quinn’s logic. Marion Beecher and her sister were very frequently at the + Mill House during the spring and summer. There was one long afternoon + which was spent in the marking out of the tennis-ground. Mr. Quinn had + theories involving calculations with a pencil and pieces of paper about + the surest method of securing right angles at the corners and parallel + lines down the sides of the court. Hyacinth and Marion worked obediently + with a tape measure and the garden line. One of the boys messed cheerfully + with a pail of liquid whitening. Afterwards the gardening was somewhat + deserted, and Hyacinth was instructed in the game. It took him a long time + to learn, and for many afternoons he and Marion were regularly beaten, but + she would not give up hope of him. Often the excuse of her coming to the + Quinns was the necessity of practising some new hymn or chant for Sunday. + Hyacinth worked as hard at the music as at the tennis under her tuition, + and there came a time when he could sing an easy tenor part with fair + accuracy. Then in the early summer, when the evenings were warm, hymns + were sung on the lawn in front of the house. There seemed no incongruity + in Marion Beecher’s company in passing without a break from lawn-tennis to + hymn-singing, and Mr. Quinn was always ready to do his best at the bass + with a serious simplicity, as if it were a perfectly natural and usual + thing to close an afternoon’s amusement with ‘Rock of Ages.’ Hyacinth was + not conscious of any definite change in his attitude towards religion. He + still believed himself to be somehow outside the inner shrine of the life + which the Beechers and the Quinns lived, just as he had been outside his + father’s prayers. But he found it increasingly difficult after an hour or + two of companionship with Marion Beecher to get back to the emotions which + had swayed him during the weeks of his intimacy with Miss Goold. To write + for the <i>Croppy</i> after sitting beside Marion in church on Sunday + evenings was like passing suddenly from a quiet wood into a heated saloon + where people wrangled. A wave of the old passionate feeling, when it + returned, affected him as raw spirit would the palate of a boy. + </p> + <p> + One day early in summer—the short summer of Connaught, which is + glorious in June, and dissolves into windy mist and warm rain in the + middle of July—Hyacinth was invited by Canon Beecher to join a + boating party on the lake. The river, whose one useful function was the + turning of Mr. Quinn’s millwheel, wound away afterwards through marshy + fields and groves of willow-trees into the great lake. At its mouth the + Beechers kept their boat, a cumbrous craft, very heavy to row, but safe + and suited to carry a family in comfort. The party started early—Canon + Beecher, Hyacinth, and one of the boys very early, for they had to walk + the two miles which separated Ballymoy from the lake shore. Mrs. Beecher, + the girls, the two other boys, and the baskets of provisions followed a + little later on the Rectory car, packed beyond all possibility of comfort. + The Canon himself pulled an oar untiringly, but without the faintest + semblance of style, and the party rippled with joy when they discovered + that Hyacinth also could row. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Elsie, ‘we can go anywhere. We can go on rowing and rowing all + day, and see places we’ve never seen before.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear girl,’ said her mother, ‘remember that Mr. Conneally and your + father aren’t machines. You mustn’t expect them to go too far.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but,’ said Elsie, ‘father says he never gets tired if he has only one + oar to pull.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon was preparing for his toil. The old coat, in colour now almost + olive green, was folded and used as a cushion by Marion in the bow. His + white cuffs, stowed inside his hat, were committed to the care of Mrs. + Beecher. He rolled his gray shirtsleeves up to the elbow, and unbuttoned + his waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m ready. If I’m not hurried, I’ll pull along all day. + But what about you, Conneally? You’re not accustomed to this sort of + thing?’ + </p> + <p> + But Hyacinth for once was self-confident. He might be a poor singer and a + contemptible tennis player, but he knew that nothing which had to do with + boats could come amiss to him. He looked across the sparkling water of the + lake. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll go on as long as you like. You won’t tire me when there’s no tide + and no waves. This is a very different business from getting out the + sweeps to pull a nobby five miles against the strength of the ebb, with a + heavy ground swell running.’ + </p> + <p> + About eleven o’clock they landed on an island and ate biscuits. The Canon + told Hyacinth the story of the ruin under whose walls they sat. + </p> + <p> + ‘It belonged to the Lynotts, the Welshmen of Tyrawley. They were at feud + with the Burkes, and one night in winter——’ + </p> + <p> + The girls wandered away, carrying their biscuits with them. It is likely + that they had heard the story every summer as long as they could remember. + Mrs. Beecher alone still maintained an attitude of admiration for her + husband’s antiquarian knowledge, the more creditable because she must have + been familiar with the onset of the MacWilliam Burkes before even Marion + was old enough to listen. To Hyacinth the story was both new and + interesting. It stirred him to think of the Lynotts fighting hopelessly, + or begging mercy in the darkness and the cold just where he sat now + saturate with sunlight and with life. He gazed across the mile of shining + water which separated the castle from the land, and tried to realize how + the Irish servant-girl swam from the island with an infant Lynott on her + back, and saved the name from perishing. How the snow must have beaten in + her face and the lake-waves choked her breath! It was a great story, but + the girls, shouting from the water’s edge, reminded him that he was out to + pull an oar, and not to sentimentalize. He and the Canon rose, half + smiling, half sighing, and took their places in the boat. + </p> + <p> + They penetrated before luncheon time to a bay hitherto unknown to the + Beechers. A chorus of delight greeted its discovery. The water shone + bright green and very clear above the slabs of white limestone. The shore + far inland was almost verdure-less. Broad flat rocks lay baking in the + sunshine, and only the scantiest grass struggled up between their edges. + Sometimes they overlapped each other, and rose like an immense staircase. + Fifty yards or so from the land was a tiny island entirely overgrown with + stunted bushes. The boat was pushed up to it and a landing-place sought, + but the shrubs were too thick, and it was decided to picnic among the + rocks on the land. Then Marion in the bow made a discovery. A causeway + about a foot under water led from the island to the shore. The whole party + leaned over to examine it. Every stone was visible in the clear water, and + it was obvious that it had been planned and built, and was no merely + accidental formation of the rocks. The Canon had heard of a similar device + resorted to by an island hermit to insure the privacy of his cell. + Hyacinth spoke vaguely of the settlements of primitive communities of + lake-dwellers. The three boys planned an expedition across the causeway + after luncheon. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll carry our shoes and stockings with us,’ they said, ‘and then + explore the island. Perhaps there is a hermit there still, or a primitive + lake-dweller. What is a primitive lake-dweller, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was uncertain, but hazarded a suggestion that the lake-dwellers + were the people who buried each other in raths. The Canon, whose + archaeology did not go back beyond St. Patrick, offered no correction. + </p> + <p> + Tea was made later on in yet another bay, this time on the eastern shore + of the lake. An oak wood grew down almost to the water’s edge, and the + branches overhung a sandy beach, more golden than any sea-strand. The + whole party collected dead wood and broken twigs for the fire. Then, while + the girls unpacked the baskets and secured the kettle amidst the smoke, + Hyacinth lay back luxuriously and watched the sun set behind the + round-shouldered mountain opposite. The long, steep slope shone bright + green while the sun still rested in view above the summit; then suddenly, + when the topmost rim of it had dipped out of sight, the whole mountainside + turned purple, and a glory of gold and crimson hung above it on the + motionless streaks of cloud. Slowly the splendour faded, the purple turned + gray, and a faint breeze fluttered across the lake. + </p> + <p> + The day was the first of many which Hyacinth gave to such expeditions. The + work of Mr. Quinn’s office was not so pressing as to necessitate his + spending every day there when he was in Ballymoy, and a holiday was always + obtainable. The lake scenery remained vivid in his memory in after-years, + and had its influence upon him even while he enjoyed it, unconscious of + anything except the present pleasure. There was something besides the + innocent gaiety of the girls and the simple sincerity of the Canon’s + platitudes, something about the lake itself, which removed him to a + spiritual region utterly remote from the fiery atmosphere of Miss Goold’s + patriotism. Many things which once loomed very large before him sank to + insignificance as he drank to the full of the desolation around him. The + past, in which no doubt men strove and hoped, hated and loved and feared, + had left the just recognisable ruins of some castles and the causeway + built by an unknown hermit or the prehistoric lake-dwellers. A few + thatched cabins, faintly smoking, and here and there a cairn of stones + gathered laboriously off the wretched fields, were the evidences of + present activity. Now and then a man hooted to his dog as it barked at the + sheep on the hillside, or a girl drove a turf-laden donkey inland from the + boggy shore. Otherwise there were no signs of human life. A deep sense of + monotony and inevitableness settled down upon Hyacinth. He came for the + first time under the great enchantment which paralyzes the spirit and + energy of the Celt. He knew himself to be, as his people were, capable of + spasms of enthusiasm, the victim of transitory burnings of soul. But the + curse was upon him—the inevitable curse of feeling too keenly and + seeing too clearly to be strenuous and constant. The flame would die down, + the enthusiasm would vanish—it was vanishing from him, as he knew + well—and leave him, not indeed content with common life, but patient + of it, and to the very end sad with the sense of possibilities unrealized. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was not without many struggles and periods of return to the older + emotions that Hyacinth surrendered his enthusiasm. There still recurred to + him memories of his father’s vision of an Armageddon and the conception of + his own part in it. Sometimes, waking very early in the morning, he became + vividly conscious of his own feebleness of will and his falling away from + great purposes. The conviction that he was called to struggle for + Ireland’s welfare, to sacrifice, if necessary, his life and happiness for + Ireland, was strong in him still. He felt himself affected profoundly by + the influences which surrounded him, but he had not ceased to believe that + the idea of self-sacrificing labour was for him a high vocation. He + writhed, his limbs twisting involuntarily, when these thoughts beset him, + and often he was surprised to discover that he was actually uttering aloud + words of self-reproach. + </p> + <p> + Then he would write fiercely, brutally, catch at the excuse of some + hypocrisy or corruption, or else denounce selfishness and easy-going + patriotic sentiment, finding subject for his satire in himself. His + articles brought him letters of praise from Miss Goold. ‘You have it,’ she + wrote once, ‘the thing we all seek for, the power of beating red-hot + thought into sword-blades. Write more like the last.’ But the praise + always came late. The violent mood, the self-reproach, the bitterness, + were past. His life was wrapt round again with softer influences, and he + read his own words with shame when they reached him in print. Afterwards + for a while, if he wrote at all, it was of the peasant life, of quaint + customs, half-forgotten legends and folklore. These articles appeared too, + but brought no praise from Miss Goold. Once she reproached him when he + lapsed into gentleness for many consecutive weeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘You oughtn’t to waste yourself. There are fifty men and women can do the + sort of thing you’re doing now; we don’t want you to take it up. It’s + fighting men we need, not maundering sentimentalists.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + It was during the second year of Hyacinth’s residence in Ballymoy that the + station-master at Clogher died. The poor man caught a cold one February + night while waiting for a train which had broken down three miles outside + his station. From the cold came first pneumonia, and then the end. Now, + far to the east of Clogher, on a different branch of the railway-line, is + a town with which the people of Mayo have no connection whatever. In it is + a very flourishing Masonic lodge. Almost every male Protestant in the town + and the neighbourhood belongs to it, and the Rector of the parish is its + chaplain. Among its members at that time was an intelligent young man who + occupied the position of goods clerk on the railway. The Masonic brethren, + as in duty bound, used their influence to secure his promotion, and + brought considerable pressure to bear on the directors of the company to + have him made station-master at Clogher. + </p> + <p> + It is said with some appearance of truth that no appointment in Ireland is + ever made on account of the fitness of the candidate for the post to be + filled. Whether the Lord Lieutenant has to nominate a Local Government + Board Inspector, or an Urban Council has to select a street scavenger, the + principle acted on is the same. No investigation is made about the ability + or character of a candidate. Questions may be asked about his political + opinions, his religious creed, and sometimes about the social position of + his wife, but no one cares in the least about his ability. The matter + really turns upon the amount of influence which he can bring to bear. So + it happened that John Crawford, Freemason and Protestant, was appointed + station-master at Clogher. Of course, nobody really cared who got the post + except a few seniors of John Crawford’s, who wanted it for themselves. + Probably even they would have stopped grumbling after a month or two if it + had not happened that a leading weekly newspaper, then at the height of + its popularity and influence, was just inaugurating a crusade against + Protestants and Freemasons. The case of John Crawford became the subject + of a series of bitter and vehement articles. It was pointed out that + although Roman Catholics were beyond all question more intelligent, better + educated, and more upright than Protestants, they were condemned by the + intolerance of highly-paid officials to remain hewers of wood and drawers + of water. It was shown by figures which admitted of no controversy that + Irish railways, banks, and trading companies were, without exception, on + the verge of bankruptcy, entirely owing to the apathy of shareholders who + allowed their interests to be sacrificed to the bigotry of directors. It + was urged that a public meeting should be held at Clogher to protest + against the new appointment. + </p> + <p> + The meeting was convened, and Father Fahey consented to occupy the chair. + He was supported by a dispensary doctor, anxious to propitiate the Board + of Guardians with a view to obtaining a summer holiday; a leading + publican, who had a son at Maynooth; a grazier, who dreaded the possible + partition of his ranch by the Congested Districts Board; and Mr. O’Reilly, + who saw a hope of drawing custom from the counter of his rival draper, the + Scotchman. + </p> + <p> + Father Fahey opened the proceedings with a speech. He assured his audience + that he was not actuated by any spirit of religious bigotry or + intolerance. He wished well to his Protestant fellow-countrymen, and hoped + that in the bright future which lay before Ireland men of all creeds would + be united in working for the common good of their country. These + sentiments were not received with vociferous applause. The audience was + perfectly well aware that something much more to the point was coming, and + reserved their cheers. Father Fahey did not disappoint them. He proceeded + to show that the appointment of the new station-master was a deliberate + insult to the faith of the inhabitants of Clogher. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are we,’ he asked, ‘to submit tamely to having the worst evils of the old + ascendancy revived in our midst?’ + </p> + <p> + He was followed by the dispensary doctor, who also began by declaring his + freedom from bigotry. He confused the issue slightly by complaining that + the new station-master was entirely ignorant of the Irish language. It was + perfectly well known that in private life the doctor was in the habit of + expressing the greatest contempt for the Gaelic League, and that he could + not, if his life depended on it, have translated even Mr. O’Reilly’s + advertisements; but his speech was greeted with tumultuous cheers. He + proceeded to harrow the feelings of his audience by describing what he had + heard at the railway-station one evening while waiting for the train. As + he paced the platform his attention was attracted by the sound of a piano + in the station-master’s house. He listened, and, to his amazement and + disgust, heard the tune of a popular song, ‘a song’—he brought down + his fist on the table as he uttered the awful indictment—‘imported + from England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ask,’ he went on—‘I ask our venerated and beloved parish priest; + I ask you, fathers of innocent families; I ask every right-thinking + patriot in this room, are our ears to be insulted, our morals corrupted, + our intellects depraved, by sounds like these?’ + </p> + <p> + He closed his speech by proposing a resolution requiring the railway + company to withdraw the obnoxious official from their midst. + </p> + <p> + The oratory of the grazier, who seconded the resolution, was not inferior. + It filled his heart with a sense of shame, so he said, to think of his + cattle, poor, innocent beasts of the field, being handled by a Protestant. + They had been bred, these bullocks of his, by Catholics, fed by Catholics, + were owned by a Catholic, bought with Catholic money at the fairs, and yet + they were told that in all Ireland no Catholic could be discovered fit to + put them into a train. + </p> + <p> + Neither the resolution itself nor the heart-rending appeal of the grazier + produced the slightest effect on the railway company. John Crawford + continued to sell tickets, even to Father Fahey himself, and appeared + entirely unconcerned by the fuss. + </p> + <p> + About a fortnight after the meeting Hyacinth spent a night in Clogher. Mr. + Holywell, the cigarette man, happened to be in the hotel, and, as usual, + got through a good deal of desultory conversation while he drank his + whisky-and-water. Quite unexpectedly, and apropos of nothing that had been + said, he plumped out the question: + </p> + <p> + ‘What religion are you, Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + The inquiry was such an unusual one, and came so strangely from Mr. + Holywell, who had always seemed a Gallio in matters spiritual, that + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a Baptist myself,’ he went on, apparently with a view to palliating + his inquisitiveness by a show of candour. ‘I find it a very convenient + sort of religion in Connaught. There isn’t a single place of worship + belonging to my denomination in the whole province, so I’m always able to + get my Sundays to myself. I don’t want to convert you to anything or to + argue with you, but I have a fancy that you are a Church of Ireland + Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth admitted the correctness of the guess, and wondered what was + coming next. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ever spend a Sunday here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I always get back home for the end of the week if + I can.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Well, do you know, if I were you, I should spend next Sunday here, + and go to Mass.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall not do anything of the sort.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s your own affair, of course; only I just think I should do it + if I were you. Good-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a minute,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I want to know what you mean.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Holywell sat down again heavily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Been round your customers here lately?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. I only arrived this evening, and have done nothing yet. I mean to go + round them to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may just as well go home by the early train for all the good you’ll + do.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth restrained himself with an effort. He reflected that he was more + likely to get at the meaning of these mysterious warnings if he refrained + from direct questioning. After a minute of two of silence Mr. Hollywell + went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘They had a meeting here a little while ago about the appointment of a + Protestant station-master. They didn’t take much by it so far as the + railway company is concerned, but I happen to know that word has gone + round that every shopkeeper in the town is to order his goods as far as + possible from Catholics. Now, everybody knows your boss is a Protestant, + but the people are a little uncertain about you. They’ve never seen you at + Mass, which is suspicious, but, on the other hand, the way you gas on + about Irish manufactures makes them think you can’t be a Protestant. The + proper thing for you to do is to lie low till you’ve put in an appearance + at Mass, and then go round and try for orders.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the kind of thing,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I couldn’t do if I had no + religion at all; but it happens that I have convictions of a sort, and I + don’t mean to go against them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well, as I said before, it’s your own affair; only better Protestants + than you have done as much. Why, I do it myself constantly, and everyone + knows that a Baptist is the strongest kind of Protestant there is.’ + </p> + <p> + This reasoning, curiously enough, proved unconvincing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t believe,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that a religious boycott of the kind is + possible. People won’t be such fools as to act clean against their own + interests. Considering that nine-tenths of the drapery goods in the + country come from England and are sold by Protestant travellers, I don’t + see how the shopkeepers could act as you say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, of course they won’t act against their own interests. I’ve never come + across a religion yet that made men do that. They won’t attempt to boycott + the English firms, because, as you say, they couldn’t; but they can + boycott you. Everything your boss makes is turned out just as well and + just as cheap, or cheaper, by the nuns at Robeen. Perhaps you didn’t know + that these holy ladies have hired a traveller. Well, they have, and he’s a + middling smart man, too—quite smart enough to play the trumps that + are put into his hand; and he’s got a fine flush of them now. What with + the way that wretched rag of a paper, which started all the fuss, goes on + rampaging, and the amount of feeling that’s got up over the + station-master, the peaceablest people in the place would be afraid to + deal with a Protestant at the present moment. The Robeen man has the game + in his own hands, and I’m bound to say he’d be a fool if he didn’t play it + for all it’s worth. I’d do it myself if I was in his shoes.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth discovered next day that Mr. Holywell had summed up the situation + very accurately. No point-blank questions were asked about his religion, + but he could by no means persuade his customers to give him even a small + order. Every shop-window was filled with goods placarded ostentatiously as + ‘made in Robeen.’ Every counter had tweeds, blankets, and flannels from + the same factory. No one was in the least uncivil to him, and no one + assigned any plausible reason for refusing to deal with him. He was simply + bowed out as quickly as possible from every shop he entered. + </p> + <p> + He returned home disgusted and irritated, and told his tale to his + employer. Mr. Quinn recognised the danger that threatened him. For the + first time, he admitted that his business was being seriously injured by + the competition of Robeen. He took Hyacinth into his confidence more fully + than he had ever done before, and explained what seemed to be a hopeful + plan. + </p> + <p> + ‘I may tell you, Conneally, that I have very little capital to fall back + upon in my business. Years ago when things were better than they are now, + I had a few thousands put by, but most of it went on buying my brother + Albert’s share of the mill. Lately I have not been able to save, and at + the present moment I can lay hands on very little money. Still, I have + something, and what I mean to do is this: I shall give up all idea of + making a profit for the present. I shall even sell my goods at a slight + loss, and try to beat the nunnery out of the market. I think this + religious animosity will weaken after a while, and if we offer the + cheapest goods we must in the end get back our customers.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was not so sanguine. + </p> + <p> + ‘You forget,’ he said, ‘that these people have Government money at their + backs, and are likely to get more of it. If you sell at a loss they will + do so, too, and ask for a new grant from the Congested Districts Board to + make good their deficiency.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Quinn sighed. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is quite possible,’ he said. ‘But what can I do? I must make a fight + for my business.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I have no right to make the suggestion, but it seems to me that + you are bound to be beaten. Would it not be better to give in at once? + Don’t risk the money you have safe. Keep it, and try to sell the mill and + the business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall hold on,’ said Mr. Quinn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ought you not to think of your wife? Remember what it will mean to her if + you are beaten in the end, when your savings are gone and your business + unsaleable.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment there were signs of wavering in Mr. Quinn’s face. The fingers + of his hands twisted in and out of each other, and a pitiable look of + great distress came into his eyes. Then he unclasped his hands and placed + them flat on the table before him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall hold on,’ he said. ‘I shall not close my mill while I have a + shilling left to pay my workers with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it is for you to decide. At least, you can count + on my doing my best, my very best.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Quinn carried on his struggle for nearly a year, although from the + very first he might have recognised its hopelessness. Time after time + Hyacinth made his tour, and visited the shopkeepers who had once been his + customers. Occasionally he succeeded in obtaining orders, and a faint + gleam of hope encouraged him, but he had no steady success. Mr. Quinn’s + original estimate of the situation was so far justified that after a while + the religious animosity died out. Shopkeepers even explained + apologetically that they gave their orders to the Robeen convent for + purely commercial reasons. + </p> + <p> + ‘Their goods are cheaper than yours, and that’s the truth, Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth recognised that Mr. Quinn was being beaten at his own game. He + had attempted to drive the nuns out of the market by underselling them, + and now it appeared that they, too, were prepared to face a loss. It was + obvious that their losses must be great, much greater than Mr. Quinn’s. + Rumours were rife of large loans raised by the Mother Superior, of + mortgages on the factory buildings and the machinery. These stories + brought very little consolation, for, as Hyacinth knew, Mr. Quinn was very + nearly at the end of his resources. He refused to borrow. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I am forced to close up,’ he said, ‘I shall do so with a clear + balance-sheet. I have no wish for bankruptcy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like,’ said Hyacinth vindictively, ‘to see the Reverend Mother + reduced to paying a shilling in the pound.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you won’t see that. The convent is a + branch of an immense organization. No doubt, if it comes to a pinch, funds + will be forthcoming.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, and they won’t draw on their own purse till they have got all they + can out of the Congested Districts Board. I have no doubt they are + counting on another four thousand pounds to start them clear when they + have beaten you.’ + </p> + <p> + One day, quite accidentally, Hyacinth came by a piece of information about + the working of the Robeen factory which startled him. He was travelling + home by rail. It happened to be Friday, and, as usual in the early summer, + the train was crowded with emigrants on their way to Queenstown. The + familiar melancholy crowd waited on every platform. Old women weeping + openly and men with faces ridiculously screwed and puckered in the effort + to restrain the rising tears clung to their sons and daughters. Pitiful + little boxes and carpet bags were piled on the platform. Friends clung to + hands outstretched through the carriage-windows while the train moved + slowly out. Then came the long mournful wail from those left behind, and + the last wavings of farewell. At the Robeen station the crowd was no less + than elsewhere. The carriages set apart for the emigrants were full, and + at the last minute two girls were hustled into the compartment where + Hyacinth sat. A woman, their mother, mumbled and slobbered over their + hands. An old man, too old to be their father, shouted broken benedictions + to them. Two young men—lovers, perhaps, or brothers—stood + red-eyed, desolate and helpless, without speaking. After the train had + started Hyacinth looked at the girls. One of them, a pretty creature of + perhaps eighteen years old, wept quietly in the corner of the carriage. + Beside her lay her carpet bag and a brown shawl. On her lap was an orange, + and she held a crumpled paper bag of biscuits in her hand. There was + nothing unusual about her. She was just one instance of heartbreak, the + heart-break of a whole nation which loves home as no other people have + ever loved it, and yet are doomed, as it seems inevitably, to leave it. + She was just one more waif thrown into the whirlpool of the great world to + toil and struggle, succeed barrenly or pitifully fail; but through it all, + through even the possible loss of faith and ultimate degradation, fated to + cling to a love for the gray desolate fatherland. The other girl was + different. Hyacinth looked at her with intense interest. She was the older + of the two, and not so pretty as her sister. Her face was thin and pale, + and a broad scar under one ear showed where a surgeon’s knife had cut. She + sat with her hands folded on her lap, gazing dry-eyed out of the window + beside her. There was no sign of sorrow on her face, nothing but a kind of + sulky defiance. + </p> + <p> + After a while she took the paper bag out of her sister’s hand, opened it, + and began to eat the gingerbread biscuits it contained. Hyacinth spoke to + her, but she turned her head away, and would not answer him. His voice + seemed to rouse the younger sister, who stopped crying and looked at him + curiously. He tried again, and this time he spoke in Irish. + </p> + <p> + At once the younger girl brightened and answered him. Apparently she had + no fear that malice could lurk in the heart of a man who spoke her own + language. In a few minutes she was chatting to him as if he were an old + friend. + </p> + <p> + He learnt that the two girls were on their way to New York. They had a + sister there who had sent them the price of their tickets. Yes, the sister + was in a situation, was getting good wages, and had clothes ‘as grand as a + lady’s.’ She had sent home a photograph at Christmas-time, which their + mother had shown all round the parish. These two were to get situations + also as soon as they arrived. Oh yes, there was no doubt of it: Bridgy had + promised. There were four of them left at home—three boys and a + girl. No doubt in time they would all follow Bridgy to America—all + but Seumas; he was to have the farm. No, the girls could not get married, + because their father was too poor to give them fortunes. There was nothing + for them but to go to America. But their mother had not wanted them to go. + The clergy and the nuns were against the girls going. Indeed, they nearly + had them persuaded to send Bridgy’s money back. + </p> + <p> + ‘But Onny was set on going.’ + </p> + <p> + She glanced at her sister in the corner of the carriage. Hyacinth turned + to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you want to leave Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + But Onny remained silent, sulky, at it seemed. It was the younger girl who + answered him. + </p> + <p> + ‘They say it’s a fine life they have out there. There’s good money to be + earned, and mightn’t we be coming home some day with a fortune?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But aren’t you sorry to leave Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + Again he looked at the elder girl, and this time was rewarded with a flash + of defiant bitterness from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sorry, is it? No, but I’m glad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Onny’s always saying that there was nothing to be earned in the factory. + And she got more than the rest of us. Wasn’t she the first girl that + Sister Mary Aloysius picked out of the school when the young lady from + England came over to teach us? She was the best worker they had.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s true what she says,’ said Onny. ‘I was the best worker they had. I + worked for them for three years, and all I was getting at the end of it + was six shillings a week. Why would I be working for that when I might be + getting wages like Bridgy’s in America? What sense would there be in it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why did you work for such wages?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now,’ said the younger girl, ‘how could we be refusing the Reverend + Mother when she came round the town herself, and gave warning that we’d + all be wanted?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s few,’ continued Onny, without noticing her sister, ‘that earned + as much as I did. Many a girl works there and has no more than one and + ninepence to take home at the end of the week.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth began to understand how it was that Mr. Quinn was being + hopelessly beaten. This was no struggle between two trade rivals, to be + won by the side with the longer purse. Nor was it simply a fight between + an independent manufacturer and a firm fed with Government bounties. Mr. + Quinn’s rival could count on an unlimited supply of labour at starvation + wages, while he had to hire men and women at the market value of their + services. He had been sorry for the two girls when they got into the + train. Now he felt almost glad that they were leaving Ireland. It appeared + that they had certainly chosen the wiser part. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at home dejected, and sat down beside the fire in his room to + give himself up to complete despair. He found no hope anywhere. Irish + patriotism, so he saw it, was a matter of words and fine phrases. No one + really believed in it or would venture anything for it. Politics was a + game at which sharpers cheated each other and the people. The leaders were + bold only in sordid personal quarrels. The mass of the people were utterly + untouched by the idea of nationality, in earnest about nothing but + huckstering and petty gains. Over all was the grip of a foreign + bureaucracy and a selfish Church tightening slowly, squeezing out the + nation’s life, grasping and holding fast its wealth. No man any longer + made any demand except to be allowed to earn what would buy whisky enough + to fuddle him into temporary forgetfulness of the present misery and the + imminent tyranny. + </p> + <p> + The slatternly maid-servant who brought him his meals and made his bed + tapped at the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, sir, Jimmy Loughlin’s after coming with a letter from Mr. Quinn, + and he’s waiting to know if you’ll go.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth read the note, which asked him to call on his employer that + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell him I’ll be there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you have your dinner before you go? The chops is in the pan below. + Or will I keep them till you come back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’ve time enough. Bring them as soon as they’re cooked, and for + goodness’ sake see that the potatoes are properly boiled.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up a great English weekly paper, with copies of which Canon + Beecher supplied him at irregular intervals, and propped it against the + dish-cover while he ate. The article which caught his attention was headed + ‘Angels in Connaught.’ It contained an idealized account of the work of + the Robeen nuns, from whose shoulders it seemed to the writer likely that + wings would soon sprout. There was a description of the once miserable + cabins now transformed into homesteads so comfortable that English + labourers would not disdain them. The people shared in the elevation of + their surroundings. Men and women, lately half-naked savages, starved and + ignorant, had risen in the scale of civilization and intelligence to a + level which almost equalled that of a Hampshire villager. The double + stream of emigration to the United States and migration to the English + harvest-fields was stopped. An earthly paradise had been created in a + howling wilderness by the self-denying labours of the holy ladies, aided + by the statesmanlike liberality of the Congested Districts Board. There + was another page of the article, but Hyacinth could stand no more. + </p> + <p> + He stood up and glanced at his watch. It was already nearly five o’clock. + He pushed his way down the street, where the country-people, having + completed their week’s marketing, were loading donkeys on the footpath or + carts pushed backwards against the kerbstone. Women dragged their + heavily-intoxicated husbands from the public-houses, and girls, damp and + bedraggled, stood in groups waiting for their parents. He turned into the + gloomy archway of the mill, unlocked the iron gate, and crossed the yard + into the Quinns’ garden. The lamp burned brightly in the dining-room, and + he could see Mrs Quinn in her chair by the fireside sewing. Her children + sat on the rug at her feet. He saw their faces turned up to hers, gravely + intent. No doubt she was telling them some story. He stood for a minute + and watched them, while the peaceful joy of the scene entered into his + heart. This, no doubt, a home full of such love and peace, was the best + thing life had got to give. It was God’s most precious benediction. ‘Lo, + thus shall a man be blessed who feareth the Lord.’ He turned and passed on + to the door. The servant showed him in, not, as he expected, to the + sitting-room he had just gazed at, but to Mr. Quinn’s study. + </p> + <p> + It was a desolate chamber. A plain wooden desk like a schoolmaster’s stood + in one corner, and upon it a feeble lamp. A bookcase surmounted a row of + cupboards along one wall. Its contents—Hyacinth had often looked + over them—were a many-volumed encyclopaedia, Macaulay’s ‘History of + England,’ Foxe’s ‘Book of Martyrs,’ a series entitled ‘Heroes of the + Reformation,’ and some bound volumes of a trade journal. Above the + chimneypiece hung two trout-rods, a landing-net, and an old gun. The grate + was fireless. It was a room obviously not loved by its owner. Neither + pleasure nor comfort was looked for in it. It was simply a place of escape + from the attractions of quiet ease when business overflowed the proper + office hours. Mr. Quinn rose from his desk when Hyacinth entered. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very glad to see you,’ he said; ‘I want to have a talk with you.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth waited while he arranged and rearranged some papers on the desk + in front of him. Mr. Quinn, although he had specially sent for Hyacinth, + seemed in no hurry to get to the subject of the interview. When he did + speak, it was evident from his tone that the important topic was still + postponed. + </p> + <p> + ‘How did you get on this week?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had nothing good to report. He took from his pocket the note-book + in which he entered his orders, and went over it. It contained an + attenuated list. Moreover, the harvest had been bad, and old debts very + difficult to collect. Mr. Quinn listened, apparently not very attentively, + and when the reading was over said: + </p> + <p> + ‘What you report this week is simply a repetition of the story of the last + six months. I did not expect it to be different. It makes the decision I + have to make a little more inevitable, that is all. Mr. Conneally, we have + been very good friends, and since you have been in my employment I have + been satisfied with you in every way. Now I am unable to employ you any + longer. I am giving up my business.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made an effort to speak, but Mr. Quinn held up his hand and + silenced him. + </p> + <p> + ‘This week,’ he continued, ‘I received news which settled the matter for + me. Jameson and Thorpe, the big drapers in Dublin, were my best customers + for certain goods. Last Monday they wrote that they had an offer of + blankets at a figure a long way below mine. I didn’t believe that articles + equal in quality to mine could be produced at the price, and wrote a hint + to that effect. I received—nothing could have been more courteous—a + sample of the blankets offered. Well, I admit that it was at least equal + to what I could supply in every way. I wrote again asking as a favour to + be supplied with the name of the competing firm. I got the answer to-day. + Mr. Thorpe wrote himself. The Robeen convent has undersold me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made another attempt to speak. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me finish,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘I had foreseen, of course, that this was + coming. I have no more capital to fall back upon. I do not mean to run + into debt. There is nothing for me but to dismiss my employées and shut + up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And then——’ + </p> + <p> + He knew he had no right to ask a question about the future, but the + thought of Mrs. Quinn and her children as he had seen them in the + dining-room almost forced him to inquire what was to happen to them. A + spasm of extreme pain crossed Mr. Quinn’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are thinking of my wife. It will be hard—yes, very hard. She + loved this place, her friends here, her garden, and all the quiet, + peaceful life we have lived. Well, there is to be an end of it. But don’t + look so desperate.’ He forced himself to smile as he spoke. ‘We shall not + starve or go to the workhouse. I have a knowledge of woollen goods if I + have nothing else, and I dare say I can get an appointment as foreman or + traveller for some big drapery house. But I may not be reduced to that. + There is a secretary wanted just now in the office of one of the Dublin + charitable societies. I mean to apply for the post. Canon Beecher and our + Bishop are both members of the committee, and I am sure will do their best + for me. The salary is not princely—a hundred and twenty pounds a + year, I think. But there, I ought not to be talking all this time about + myself. I must try and do something for you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I shall be all right. But I can’t bear to + think of you and Mrs. Quinn. Poverty like that in Dublin! Have you thought + what it means? A shabby little house in a crowded street, off at the back + of somewhere; dirt and stuffiness and vulgarity all around you. She can’t + be expected to stand it—or you either.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘my wife and I have been trying all our + lives to be Christians. Shall we receive good at the Lord’s hand and not + evil also? However it may be with me, I know that she will not fail in the + trial.’ + </p> + <p> + His face lit up as he spoke, and the smile on it was no longer forced, but + clear and brave. Hyacinth knew that he was once again in the presence of + that mysterious power which enables men and women to meet and conquer loss + and pain, against which every kind of misfortune beats in vain. His eyes + filled with tears as he took Mr. Quinn’s hand and bade him good-night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Hyacinth had three months’ work to do before he actually left Mr. Quinn’s + employment. He knew that at the end of that time he would be left + absolutely without income, and that it was necessary for him to look out + for some other situation. He reckoned up the remains of his original + capital, and found himself with little more than a hundred pounds to fall + back upon. Yet he did nothing. From time to time he bestirred himself, + pondered the newspaper advertisements of vacant situations, and mentally + resolved to commence his search at once. Always some excuse offered itself + to justify putting the unpleasant business off, and he allowed himself to + slip back into the quiet routine of life as if no catastrophe threatened + him. He was, indeed, far more troubled about the Quinns’ future than his + own, and when, at the end of April, Canon Beecher returned from Dublin + with the news that he had secured the secretaryship of the Church of + Ireland Scriptural Schools Society for Mr. Quinn, Hyacinth felt that his + mind was relieved of a great anxiety. That no such post had been + discovered for him did not cost him a thought. In spite of his spasmodic + efforts to goad himself into a condition of reasonable anxiety for his + future, there remained half consciously present in his mind a conviction + that somehow a way of getting sufficient food and clothes would offer + itself in due time. + </p> + <p> + The conviction was justified by the event. It was on Saturday evening that + the Canon returned with his good news, and on Sunday morning Hyacinth + received a letter from Miss Goold. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have no doubt heard,’ she wrote, ‘that we have got a new editor for + the Croppy—Patrick O’Dwyer, Mary’s brother. Of course, you remember + Mary and her unpoetical hysterics the morning after the Rotunda meeting. + The new editor is a splendid man. He has been on the staff of a New York + paper for the last five years, and thoroughly understands the whole + business. But that’s not the best of him. He hates England worse than I + do. I’m only a child beside him, bursting out into fits of temper now and + then, and cooling off again. He hates steadily, quietly, and intensely. + But even that is not all that is to be said. He has got brains—brains + enough, my dear Hyacinth, to make fools of you and me every day and all + day long. He has devised a new policy for Ireland. The plan is simplicity + itself, like all really great plans, and it <i>must</i> succeed. I won’t + go into it now, because I want you to come up to Dublin and see O’Dwyer. + He tells me that he needs somebody else besides himself on the staff of + the <i>Croppy</i>, which, by the way, is to be enlarged and improved. He + wants a man who can write a column a week in Irish, as well as an article + now and then in good strong plain English. I suggested your name to him, + and showed him some of the articles you had written. He was greatly + pleased with the one about O’Dowd’s cheap patriotism, and liked one or two + of the others. He just asked one question about you: “Does Mr. Conneally + hate England and the Empire, and everything English, from the Parliament + to the police barrack? It is this hatred which must animate the work.” I + said I thought you did. I told him how you had volunteered to fight for + the Boers, and about the day you nearly killed that blackguard Shea. He + seemed to think that was good enough, and asked me to write to you on the + subject. We can’t offer you a big salary. The editor himself is only to + get a hundred pounds a year for the present, and I am guaranteeing another + hundred for you. I am confident that I shan’t have to pay it for more than + six months. The paper is sure to go as it never went before, and in a few + years we shall be able to treble O’Dwyer’s salary and double yours. + Nothing like such a chance has ever offered itself in Irish history + before. Everything goes to show that this is our opportunity. England is + weaker than she has been for centuries, is clinging desperately to the + last tatters of her old prestige. She hasn’t a single statesman capable of + thinking or acting vigorously. Her Parliament is the laughingstock of + Europe. Her Irish policy may be summed up in four words—intrigue + with the Vatican. In Ireland the power of the faithful garrison is gone. + The Protestants in the North are sick of being fooled by one English party + after another. The landlords, or what’s left of them, are beginning to + discover that they have been bought and sold. The Bishops, England’s last + line of defence, are overreaching themselves, and we are within measurable + distance of the day when the Church will be put into her proper place. + There is not so much as a shoneen publican in a country town left who + believes in the ranting of O’Rourke and his litter of blind whelps. + Ireland is simply crying out for light and leading, and the <i>Croppy</i> + is going to give both. You always wanted to serve Ireland. Now I am + offering you the chance. I don’t say you ought to thank me, though you + will thank me to the day of your death. I don’t say that you have an + opportunity of becoming a great man. I know you, and I know a better way + of making sure of you than that. I say to you, Hyacinth Conneally, that we + want you—just <i>you</i> and nobody else. Ireland wants you.’ + </p> + <p> + The letter, especially the last part of it, was sufficiently ridiculous to + have moved Hyacinth to a smile. But it did no such thing. On the contrary, + its rhetoric excited and touched him. The flattery of the final sentences + elated him. The absurdity of the idea that Ireland needed him, a + fifth-rate office clerk, an out-of-work commercial traveller who had + failed to sell blankets and flannels, did not strike him at all. The + figure of Augusta Goold rose to his mind. She flashed before him, an + Apocalyptic angel, splended and terrible, trumpet-calling him to the last + great fight. He forgot in an instant the Quinns and their trouble. The + years of quietness in Ballymoy, the daily intercourse with gentle people, + the atmosphere of the religion in which he had lived, fell away from him + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + He sat absorbed in an ecstasy of joyful excitement until the jangling of + Canon Beecher’s church bell recalled him to common life again. It speaks + for the strength of the habits he had formed in Ballymoy that he rose + without hesitation and went to take his part in the morning service. + </p> + <p> + He sat down as usual beside Marion Beecher and her harmonium. He listened + to her playing until her father entered. He found himself gazing at her + when she stood up for the opening words of the service. He felt himself + strangely affected by the gentleness of her face and the slender beauty of + her form. When she knelt down he could not take his eyes off her. There + came over him an inexplicable softening, a relaxation of the tense + excitement of the morning. He thought of her kneeling there in the faded + shabby church Sunday after Sunday for years and years, when he was working + at hot pressure far away. He knew just how her eyes would look calmly, + trustfully up to the God she spoke to; how her soul would grow in + gentleness; how love would be the very atmosphere around her. And all the + while he would struggle and fight, with no inspiration except a bitter + hate. Suddenly there came on him a feeling that he could not leave her. + The very thought of separation was a fierce pain. A desire of her seized + on him like uncontrollable physical hunger. Wherever he might be, whatever + life might have in store for him, he knew that his heart would go back to + her restlessly, and remain unsatisfied without her. He understood that he + loved her. Canon Beecher’s voice came to him as if from an immense + distance: + </p> + <p> + ‘O God, make speed to save us.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he heard very clearly Marion’s sweet voice replying: + </p> + <p> + ‘O Lord, make haste to help us.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a faint shuffling, and the congregation rose to their feet. His + eyes were still on Marion, and now his whole body quivered with the force + of his newly-found love. She half turned and looked at him. For one + instant their eyes met, and he saw in hers a flash of recognition, then a + strange look of fear, and she turned away from him, flushed and trembling. + He saw that she had read his heart and knew his love. + </p> + <p> + ‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,’ read the + Canon heavily. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth’s heart swelled in him. His whole being seemed to throb with + exultation, and he responded in a voice he could not recognise for his. + </p> + <p> + ‘As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. + Amen.’ + </p> + <p> + Marion stood silent. Her head was bowed down, and her hands clasped tight + together. + </p> + <p> + Of the remainder of the morning’s service Hyacinth could never afterwards + remember anything. No doubt Canon Beecher read the Psalms and lessons and + prayers; no doubt he preached. Probably, also, hymns were sung, and Marion + played them, but he could not imagine how. It seemed quite impossible that + she could have touched the keys with her fingers, or that she could have + uttered any sound; yet no one had remarked the absence of hymns or even + noticed any peculiarity in their performance. Not till after the service + was over did he regain full consciousness of himself and his surroundings; + then he became exceedingly alert. He watched the Canon disappear into the + vestry, heard the congregation trample down the aisle, listened to Marion + playing a final voluntary. It seemed to him as he sat there waiting for + her to stop that she played much longer than usual. He could hear Mrs. + Beecher and Mr. Quinn talking in the porch, and every moment he expected + the Canon to appear. At last the music ceased, and the lid of the + harmonium was closed and locked. He stepped forward and took Marion’s + hands in his. + </p> + <p> + ‘Marion,’ he said, ‘I love you. It was only this morning that I found it + out, but I know—oh, I know—that I love you far, far more than + I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + The hand which lay in his grew cold, and the girl’s head was bowed so that + he could not see her face. He felt her tremble. + </p> + <p> + ‘Marion, Marion, I love you, love you, love you!’ + </p> + <p> + Then very slowly she raised her head and looked at him. He stooped to kiss + her lips, and felt her face flush and glow when he touched it. Then she + drew her hands from his and fled down the church to her mother. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth stood agape with wonder at the words which he had spoken. The + knowledge of his love had come on him like a sudden gust, and he only half + realized what he had done. He walked back to his lodgings, going over and + over the amazing words, recalling with flushed astonishment the kiss. Then + a chilling doubt beset him suddenly. Did Marion know how poor he was? + Never in his life had the fear of poverty or the desire of gain determined + Hyacinth’s plans. He knew very well that no such considerations would have + in any way affected his conduct towards Marion. Once he realized that he + loved her, the confession of his love was quite inevitable. Yet he felt + vaguely that he might be judged blameworthy. He had read a few novels, and + he knew that even the writers whose chief business it is to glorify the + passion of love do not dare to represent it as independent of money. He + knew, too, that many penniless heroes won admiration—he did not in + the least understand why they should—by silently deserting + affectionate women. He knew that kisses were immoral except for those who + possessed a modest competence. These authorized ethics of marriage + engagements were wholly incomprehensible to him, and it in no way + disquieted his conscience that he had bound Marion to him with his kiss; + yet he felt that she had a right to know what income he hoped to earn, and + what kind of home he would have to offer her. A hundred pounds a year + might be deemed insufficient, and he knew that, not being either a raven + or a lily, he could not count on finding food and clothes ready when he + wanted them. + </p> + <p> + The daughters of the Irish Church clergy, even of the dignitaries, are not + brought up in luxury. Still, they are most of them accustomed to a daily + supply of food—plain, perhaps, but sufficient—and will look + for as much in the homes of their husbands. A girl like Marion Beecher + does not expect to secure a position which will enable her to send her own + clothes to a laundress or hire a cook who can make pastry; but it is not + fair to ask her to wash the family’s blankets or to boil potatoes for a + pig. Probably her friends would think her lucky in marrying a curate or a + dispensary doctor with one hundred and fifty pounds a year, and the + prospect of one-third as much again after a while. But Hyacinth remembered + that he was poorer than any curate. He determined to put the matter + plainly before Marion without delay. + </p> + <p> + The Rectory door was opened for him by Elsie Beecher, and, in spite of her + wondering protests, Hyacinth walked into the dining-room and asked that + Marion should be sent to him. The room was empty, as he expected. He stood + and waited for her, deriving faint comfort and courage from the threadbare + carpet, patched tablecloth, and poor crazy chairs. They were strange + properties for a scene with possibilities of deep romance in it, but they + made his confession of poverty easier. + </p> + <p> + Marion entered at last and stood beside him. He neither took her hand nor + looked at her. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I told you to-day that I loved you,’ he said, ‘I ought to have told + you that I am very poor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am poorer even than you know. I am not in Mr. Quinn’s employment + any more. I have no settled income, and only a prospect of earning a very + small one.’ He paused. ‘I shall have to go away from Ballymoy. I must live + in Dublin. I do not think it is fair to ask you to marry me. I shall have + no more to live upon than——’ + </p> + <p> + She moved a step nearer to him and laid her hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at me,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes to her face, and saw again there, as he had seen in + church, the wonderful shining of love, which is stronger than all things + and holds poverty and hardship cheap. + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep looking at me still,’ she said. ‘Now tell me: Do you really think it + matters that you are poor? Do you think I care whether you have much or + little? Tell me.’ + </p> + <p> + He could not answer her, although he knew that there was only one answer + to her question. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think that I love money? Do you doubt that I love you?’ + </p> + <p> + Her voice sunk almost to a whisper as she spoke, and her eyes fell from + looking into his. Just as when he kissed her in the church, she flushed + suddenly, but this time she did not try to escape from him. Instead she + clung to his arm, and hid her face against his shoulder. He put his arms + round her and held her close. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I was a fool to come here thinking that my being poor + would matter. I might have known. Indeed, I think I did know even before I + spoke to you.’ + </p> + <p> + She had no answer except a long soft laugh, which was half smothered in + his arms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + On Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons Canon Beecher enjoyed the + privilege of a fire in his study. He was supposed to be engaged at these + seasons in the preparation of his sermons, a serious and exacting work + which demanded solitude and profound quiet. In earlier years he really had + prepared his sermons painfully, but long practice brings to the preacher a + certain fatal facility. Old ideas are not improved by being clothed in new + phrases, and of new ideas—a new idea will occasionally obtrude + itself even on the Christian preacher—the Canon was exceedingly + mistrustful. The study was an unexciting and comparatively comfortable + room. The firelight on winter afternoons played pleasantly on the dim gold + backs of the works of St. Augustine, a fine folio edition bequeathed to + Mrs. Beecher by a scholarly uncle, which reposed undisturbed along a lower + shelf. Adventurous rays occasionally explored a faded print of the Good + Shepherd which hung above the books, and gleamed upon the handle of the + safe where the parish registers and church plate were stored. The quiet + and the process of digesting his mid-day dinner frequently tempted the + Canon to indulge in a series of pleasant naps on Sunday afternoons. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth tapped at the study door and entered, the room was almost + dark, and the sermon preparation, if proceeding at all, can have got no + further than the preliminary concatenation of ideas. The Canon, however, + was aggressively, perhaps suspiciously, wide awake. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is that?’ he asked. ‘Oh, Conneally, it is you. I am very glad to see + you. Curiously enough, I thought of going down to call on you this + afternoon. I wanted to have a talk with you. I dare say you have come up + to consult me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was astonished. How could anyone have guessed what he came about? + Had Marion told her father already? + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a sad business,’ the Canon went on—’ very distressing and + perplexing indeed. But so far as you personally are concerned, Conneally, + I cannot regard it as an unmixed misfortune. You were meant for something + better, if I may say so, than selling blankets. Now, I have a plan for + your future, which I talked over last week with an old friend of yours. + Now that something has been settled about the Quinns, we must all give our + minds to your affairs.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Hyacinth understood that Canon Beecher expected to be consulted about + his future plans, and even had some scheme of his own in mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I shall be very glad of your help and advice, although + I think I have decided about what I am going to do. It was not on that + subject I came to speak to you to-day, but on another, more important, I + think, for you and for me and for Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For Marion?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ought to tell you at once that I love your daughter Marion, and I am + sure that she loves me. I want to marry her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy! I had not the slightest idea of this. It is one of the most + extraordinary things—or perhaps extraordinary is not exactly the + proper word—one of the most surprising things I——’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon stopped abruptly and sat stroking his chin with his forefinger + in the effort to adjust his mind to the new situation presented to it. It + was characteristic of the man that the thought of Hyacinth’s poverty was + not the first which presented itself. Indeed, Canon Beecher was one of + those unreasonable Christians who are actually convinced of the truth of + certain paradoxical sayings in the Gospel about wealth and poverty. He + believed that there were things of more importance in life than the + possession of money. Fortunately, such Christians are rare, for their + absurd creed forms a standing menace to the existence of Church and sect + alike. Fortunately also, ecclesiastical authorities have sufficient wisdom + to keep these eccentrics in the background, confining them as far as + possible to remote and obscure places. If ever a few of them escape into + the open and find means of expressing themselves, the whole machinery of + modern religion will become dislocated, and the Church will very likely + relapse into the barbarity of the Apostolic age. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe, Conneally,’ said the Canon at last, ‘that you are a good man. + I do not merely mean that you are moral and upright, but that you + sincerely desire to follow in the footsteps of the Master.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked as if he wanted some kind of answer, at least a confirmation of + his belief. Fresh from his interview with Marion, and having the Canon’s + eyes upon him, it did not seem impossible to Hyacinth to answer yes. Even + the thought of the work he was to engage in with Miss Goold and Patrick + O’Dwyer seemed to offer no ground for hesitation. Was he not enlisting + with them to take part in the great battle? He had never ceased to believe + his father’s words: ‘And the battlefield is Ireland—our dear Ireland + which we love!’ He felt for the moment that he was altogether prepared to + make the confession of faith the Canon required. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am on His side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you love Marion? Are you quite sure of that? Are you certain that + this is not a passing fancy?’ + </p> + <p> + This time Hyacinth had no doubt whatever about his answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am as certain of my love as I am of anything in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad. I am very glad that this has happened—for your sake, + because I have always liked you; also for Marion’s sake. I shall see you + happy because you love one another, and because you both love the Lord. I + ask no more than those two things. But I must go and tell my wife at once. + She will be glad, too.’ + </p> + <p> + He rose and went to the door. With his hand stretched out to open it he + stopped, struck by a sudden thought. + </p> + <p> + ‘By the way, I ought to ask you—if you mean to be married—have + you any—I mean it is necessary—I hope you won’t think I am + laying undue stress upon such matters, but I really—I mean we really + ought to consider what you are to live upon.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the prospect of imparting the news to his wife which forced this + speech from him. Mrs. Beecher was, indeed, the least worldly of women. Did + she not marry the Canon, then a mere curate, on the slenderest income, and + bear him successively five babies in defiance of common prudence? But it + had fallen to her lot to order the affairs of the household, and she had + learnt that the people who give you bread and beef demand, after an + interval, more or less money in exchange. It was likely that, after her + first rapture had subsided, she would make some inquiry about Hyacinth’s + income and prospects. The Canon felt he ought to be prepared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course, I have lost my position with Mr. Quinn. You know that. But I + have an offer of work which I hope will lead on to something better, and + will enable me in a short time to earn enough money to marry on. You know—or + perhaps you don’t, for I am afraid I never told you‘—he remembered + that he had carefully concealed his connection with the <i>Croppy</i> from + his friends at Ballymoy, and paused—‘I have done some little + writing. Oh, nothing very much—not a book, or anything like that, + only a few articles for the press. Well, a friend of mine has got me the + offer of a post in connection with a weekly paper. It is not a very great + thing in itself just now, but it may improve, and there is always the + prospect of picking up other work of the same kind.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon, who had never seen even an abstract of one of his own sermons + in print, had a proper reverence for the men who guide the world’s thought + through the press. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very good, Conneally—very satisfactory indeed. I always + knew you had brains. But why did you never tell me what you were doing? I + should have been deeply interested in anything you wrote.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth’s conscience smote him. + </p> + <p> + ‘The truth is, that I was sure you wouldn’t approve of the paper I wrote + for. It is the <i>Croppy</i>, the organ of the extreme left wing of the + Nationalist party. It is Miss Goold—Augusta Goold—who now + offers me work on that paper. She says—— But you had better + read what she says for yourself. Then you will know the worst of it.’ + </p> + <p> + He took the letter from his pocket. The Canon lit a candle and read it + through slowly and attentively. When he had finished he laid it upon the + table and sat down. Hyacinth waited in extreme anxiety for what was to + come. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not like the cause you mean to work for or the people you call your + friends. I would rather see my daughter’s husband doing almost anything + else in the world. I would be happier if you proposed to break stones upon + the roadside. You know what my political opinions are. I regard the <i>Croppy</i> + as a disloyal and seditious paper, bent upon fostering a dangerous + spirit.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth listened patiently. He had steeled himself against the hearing of + some such words, and was determined not to be moved to argument or + self-defence except as a last resort. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will at least give me credit for honestly + acting in accordance with my convictions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure—quite sure—that you are honest, and believe that + your cause is the right one. I recognise, too, though this is a very + difficult thing to do, that you have every right to form and hold your own + political opinions. It seems to me that they are very wrong and very + mischievous, but it is quite possible that I am mistaken and prejudiced. + In any case, I am not called upon to refuse you my affection or to + separate you from my daughter because we differ about politics.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth breathed a great sigh of relief. He looked at the Canon in wonder + and admiration. It had been beyond hope that a man grown gray in a narrow + faith, a faith in which for centuries religion and politics had been + inextricably blended, could have risen in one clear flight above the mire + of prejudice. It seemed, even after he had spoken, impossible that in + Ireland, where political opponents believe each other to be thieves and + murderers, there could be found even one man, and he from the least + emancipated class of all, who could understand and practise tolerance. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ went on the Canon, speaking very slowly, and with evident + difficulty, ‘that I have no right to put you away from me because of your + political opinions. But there is something here ‘—he touched Miss + Goold’s letter—’ from which I must by all means try to save you. + Will you let me speak to you, not as Marion’s father, not even as your + friend, but as Christ’s ambassador set here to watch for your soul? But I + need not excuse myself for what I am about to say. You will at least + listen to me patiently.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up Miss Goold’s letter and searched through it for a short time; + then he read aloud: + </p> + <p> + ‘“He just asked one question about you: Does Mr. Conneally hate England + and the Empire and everything English, from the Parliament to the police + barrack? For it is this hatred which must animate our work. I said I + thought you did.” Now consider what those words mean. You are to dedicate + your powers, the talents God has given you, to preaching a gospel of hate. + This is not a question of politics. I am ready to believe that in the + contest of which our unhappy country is the battle-ground a man may be + either on your side or mine, and yet be a follower of Christ. It is + impossible to think that anyone can deliberately, with his eyes open, + accept hatred for the inspiration of his life and still be true to Him.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was greatly moved by the solemnity with which the Canon spoke. + There was that in him which witnessed to the truth of what he heard. Yet + he refused to be convinced. When he spoke it was clear that he was not + addressing his companion, for his eyes were fixed upon the picture of the + Good Shepherd, faintly illuminated by the candle light. He desired to + order his own thought on the dilemma, to justify, if he could, his own + position to himself. ‘It is true that the Gospel of Christ is a Gospel of + love. Yet there are circumstances in which it is wrong to follow it. Is it + possible to rouse our people out of their sordid apathy, to save Ireland + for a place among the nations, except by preaching a mighty indignation + against the tyranny which has crushed us to the dust?’ + </p> + <p> + He felt that Canon Beecher’s eyes never left him for a moment while he + spoke. He looked up, and saw in them an intense pleading. There stole over + him a desire to yield, to submit himself to this appealing tenderness. He + defended himself desperately against his weakness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not choosing the pleasanter way. It would be easier for me to give + up the fight for Ireland, to desert the beaten side, to forget the lost + cause.’ He turned to Canon Beecher, speaking almost fiercely: ‘Do you + think it is a small thing for me to surrender your friendship, and perhaps—perhaps + to lose Marion? Is there not <i>some</i> of the nobility of sacrifice in + refusing to listen to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot argue with you. No doubt you are cleverer than I am. But I <i>know</i> + this—God is love, and only he who dwelleth in love dwelleth in God.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I do love: I love Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah yes; but He says, “Love your enemies.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I will not have Him for my God.’ + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he spoken than he started and grew suddenly cold. It was no + doubt some trick of memory, but he believed that he heard very faintly + from far off a remembered voice: + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you be sure to know the good side from the bad, the Captain from the + enemy.’ + </p> + <p> + They were the last words his father had said to him. They had passed + unregarded when they were spoken, but lingered unthought of in some recess + of his memory. Now they came on him full of meaning, insistent for an + answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have chosen,’ said the Canon. + </p> + <p> + He had chosen. Could he be sure that he had chosen right, that he knew the + good side from the bad? + </p> + <p> + ‘You have chosen, and I have no more to say. Only, before it becomes + impossible for you and me to kneel together, I ask you to let me pray with + you once more. You can do this because you still believe He hears us, + although you have decided to walk no more with Him.’ + </p> + <p> + They knelt together, and Hyacinth, numbly indifferent, felt his hand + grasped and held. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Christ,’ said Canon Beecher, ‘this child of Thine has chosen to live by + hatred rather than by love. Do Thou therefore remove love from him, lest + it prove a hindrance to him on the way on which he goes. Let the memory of + the cross be blotted out from his mind, so that he may do successfully + that which he desires.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth wrenched his hand free from the grasp which held it, and flung + himself forward across the table at which they knelt. Except for his sobs + and his choking efforts to subdue them, there was silence in the room. + Canon Beecher rose from his knees and stood watching him, his lips moving + with unspoken supplication. At last Hyacinth also rose and stood, calm + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have conquered me,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘My son, my son, this is joy indeed! All along I knew He could not fail + you. But I have not conquered you. The Lord Jesus has saved you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know,’ said Hyacinth slowly, ‘whether I have been saved or lost. + I am not sure even now that I know the good side from the bad. But I do + know that I cannot live without the hope of being loved by Him. Whether it + is the better part to which I resign myself I cannot tell. No doubt He + knows. As for me, if I have been forced to make a great betrayal, if I am + to live hereafter very basely—and I think I am—at least I have + not cut myself off from the opportunity of loving Him.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + Canon Beecher took no notice of Hyacinth’s last speech. He had returned + with amazing swiftness and ease from the region of high emotion to the + commonplace. Excursions to the shining peaks of mystical experience are + for most men so rare that the glory leaves them with dazzled eyes, and + they walk stumblingly for a while along the dull roads of the world. But + Canon Beecher, in the course of his pleading with Hyacinth, had been only + in places very well known to him. The presence chamber of the King was to + him also the room of a familiar friend. It was no breathless descent from + the green hill of the cross to the thoroughfare of common life. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, my dear boy,’ he said, ‘we really must go and talk to my wife and + Marion. Besides, I must tell you the plan I have made for you—the + plan I was just going to speak about when you put it out of my head with + the news of your love-making.’ + </p> + <p> + For Hyacinth a great effort was necessary before he could get back to his + normal state. His hands were trembling violently. His forehead and hair + were damp with sweat. His whole body was intensely cold. His mind was + confused, and he listened to what was said to him with only the vaguest + apprehension of its meaning. The Canon laid a firm hand upon his arm, and + led him away from the study. In the passage he stopped, and asked Hyacinth + to go back and blow out the candle which still burned on the study table. + </p> + <p> + ‘And just put some turf on the fire,’ he added; ‘I don’t want it to go + out.’ + </p> + <p> + The pause enabled Hyacinth to regain his self-command, and the performance + of the perfectly ordinary acts required of him helped to bring him back + again to common life. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the drawing-room it was evident that Mrs. Beecher had + already heard the news, and was, in fact, discussing the matter eagerly + with Marion. She sprang up, and hastened across the room to meet them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am so glad,’ she said—‘so delighted! I am sure you and Marion + will be happy together.’ + </p> + <p> + She took Hyacinth’s hands in hers, and held them while she spoke, then + drew nearer to him and looked up in his face expectantly. A fearful + suspicion seized him that on an occasion of the kind she might consider it + right to kiss him. It was with the greatest difficulty that he suppressed + a wholly unreasonable impulse to laugh aloud. Apparently the need of such + affectionate stimulant was strong in Mrs. Beecher. When Hyacinth hung + back, she left him for her husband, put her arms round his neck, and + kissed him heartily on both cheeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it fortunate,’ she said, ‘that you saw Dr. Henry last week while + you were in Dublin? You little thought how important that talk with him + was going to turn out—I mean, of course, important for us. It always + was important for Mr.—I mean for Hyacinth.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon seemed a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat somewhat + unnecessarily, and then said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t mentioned that matter yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not mentioned Dr. Henry’s offer! Then, what have you been talking about + all this time?’ + </p> + <p> + It did not seem necessary to tell Mrs. Beecher all that had been said, or + to repeat the scene in the study for her benefit. The Canon cleared his + throat again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was in Dublin last week attending a meeting of the Scriptural Schools + Society, and I met Dr. Henry. We were talking about the Quinns. I told you + that Mr. Quinn is to be the new secretary of the society, didn’t I? Dr. + Henry knows Mr. Quinn slightly, and was greatly interested in him. Your + name naturally was mentioned. Dr. Henry seems to have taken a warm + interest in you when you were in college, and to have a very high opinion + of your abilities. He did not know what had become of you, and was very + pleased to hear that you were a friend of ours.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth knew at once what was coming—knew what Canon Beecher’s plan + for his future was, and why he was pleased with it; understood how Mrs. + Beecher came to describe this conversation with Dr. Henry as fortunate. He + waited for the rest of the recital, vaguely surprised at his own want of + feeling. + </p> + <p> + ‘I told him,’ the Canon went on, eying Hyacinth doubtfully, ‘that you had + lost your employment here. I hope you don’t object to my having mentioned + that. I am sure you wouldn’t if you had heard how sympathetically he spoke + of you. He assured me that he was most anxious to help you in any way in + his power. He just asked one question about you.’ Hyacinth started. Where + had he heard those identical words before? Oh yes, they were in Miss + Goold’s letter. Patrick O’Dwyer also had just asked one question about + him. He smiled faintly as the Canon went on: ‘“Is he fit, spiritually fit, + to be ordained? For it is the desire to serve God which must animate our + work.” I said I thought you were. I told him how you sang in our choir + here, and how fond you seemed of our quiet life, and what a good fellow + you are. You see, I did not know then that I was praising the man who is + to be my son-in-law. He asked me to remind you of a promise he had once + made, and to say that he was ready to fufil it. I understood him to mean + that he would recommend you to any Bishop you like for ordination.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth remained silent. He felt that in surrendering his work for the <i>Croppy</i> + he surrendered also his right to make any choice. He was ready to be + shepherded into any position, like a sheep into a pen. And he had no + particular wish to resist. He saw a simple satisfaction in Mrs. Beecher’s + face and a beautiful joy in Marion’s eyes. It was impossible for him to + disappoint them. He smiled a response to Mrs. Beecher’s kindly triumph. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t that splendid! Now you and Marion will be able to be married quite + soon, and I do dislike long engagements. Of course, you will be very poor + at first, but no poorer than we were. And Marion is not afraid of being + poor—are you, dear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is just what I have been saying to him,’ said Marion; ‘isn’t it, + Hyacinth? Of course I am not afraid. I have always said that if I ever + married I should like to marry a clergyman, and if one does that one is + sure to be poor.’ + </p> + <p> + Evidently there was no doubt in either of their minds that Hyacinth would + accept Dr. Henry’s offer. Nor had he any doubt himself. The thing seemed + too inevitable to be anything but right. Only on Canon Beecher’s face + there lingered a shadow of uncertainty. Hyacinth saw it, and relieved his + mind at once. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall write to Dr. Henry to-night and thank him. I shall ask him to try + and get me a curacy as soon as possible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said the Canon. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ added Hyacinth, ‘that I should prefer getting work in England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, why,’ said Mrs. Beecher. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay in Ireland! + and then we might have Marion somewhere within reach.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said the Canon, ‘we must let Hyacinth decide for himself. I am + sure he knows what is wisest for him to do.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was not at all sure that he knew what was wisest, and he was + quite certain that he had not decided for himself in any matter of the + slightest importance. He had suggested an English curacy in the vague hope + that it might be easier there to forget his hopes and dreams for Ireland. + It seemed to him, too, that a voluntary exile, of which he could not think + without pain, might be a kind of atonement for the betrayal of his old + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + The Canon followed him to the door when he left. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy’—there was a break in his voice as he spoke—’ my + dear boy, you have made me very happy. I am sure that you will not enter + upon the work of the ministry from any unworthy motive. The call will + become clearer to you by degrees. I mean the inward call. The outward + call, the leading of circumstance, has already made abundantly plain the + way you ought to walk in. The other will come—the voice which brings + assurance and peace when it speaks.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at him wistfully. There seemed very little possibility of + anything like assurance for him, and only such peace as might be gained by + smothering the cries with which his heart assailed him. The Canon held his + hand and wrung it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can understand why you want to go to England. Your political opinions + will interfere very little with your work there. Here, of course, it would + be different. Yes, your choice is certainly wise, for nothing must be + allowed to hinder your work. “Laying aside every weight,” you remember, + “let us run the race.” Yes, I understand.’ + </p> + <p> + It was perfectly clear to Hyacinth that the Canon did not understand in + the least. It was not likely that anyone ever would understand. + </p> + <p> + Gradually his despondency gave way before the crowding in of thoughts of + satisfaction. He was to have Marion, to live with her, to love her, and be + loved by her as long as they both lived. He saw life stretching out before + him, a sunlit, pleasant journey in Marion’s company. It did not seem to + him that any trouble could be really bad, any disappointment intolerable, + any toil oppressive with her love for an atmosphere round him. He + believed, too, that the work he was undertaking was a good work, perhaps + the highest and noblest kind of work there is to be done in the world. + From this conviction also came a glow of happiness. Yet there kept + recurring chill shudderings of self-reproach. Something within him kept + whispering that he had bartered his soul for happiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have chosen the easier and therefore the baser way,’ he said. ‘I have + shrunk from toil and pain. I have refused to make the sacrifice demanded + of me.’ + </p> + <p> + He went back again to the story of his father’s vision. For a moment it + seemed quite clear that he had deliberately refused the call to the great + fight, that he had judged himself unworthy, being cowardly and selfish in + his heart. Then he remembered that the Captain of whom his father had told + him was no one else but Christ, the same Christ of whom Canon Beecher + spoke, the Good Shepherd whose love he had discovered to be the greatest + need of all. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must have Him,’ he said—‘I must have Him—and Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + Again with the renewed decision came a glow of happiness and a sense of + rest, until there rose, as if to smite him, the thought of Ireland—of + Ireland, poor, derided of strangers, deserted by her sons, roped in as a + prize-ring where selfish men struggle ignobly for sordid gains. The + children of the land fled from it sick with despair. Its deserted houses + were full of all doleful things. Cormorants and the daughters of the owl + lodged in the lintels of them. + </p> + <p> + Sullen desolation was on the threshold, while satyrs cried to their + fellows across tracts of brown rush-grown land. Aliens came to hiss and + passed by wagging their hands. Over all was the monotony of the gray sky, + descending and still descending with clouds that came upon the land, + mistily folding it in close embraces of death. Voices sounded far off and + unreal through the gloom. The final convulsive struggles of the nation’s + life grew feebler and fewer. Of all causes Ireland’s seemed the most + hopelessly lost. Was he, too, going to forsake her? He felt that in spite + of all the good promised him there would always hang over his life a gloom + that even Marion’s love would not disperse, the heavy shadow of Ireland’s + Calvary. For Marion there would be no such darkness, nor would Marion + understand it. But surely Christ understood. Words of His crowded to the + memory. ‘When He beheld the city He wept over it, saying, Oh, Jerusalem, + Jerusalem!’ Most certainly He understood this, as He understood all human + emotion. He, too, had yearned over a nation’s fall, had felt the + heartbreak of the patriot. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have chosen Him,’ he said at last. ‘Once having caught a glimpse of + Him, I could not do without Him. He understands it all, and He has given + me Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + It was a brilliant July day, and the convent at Robeen was decked for a + festival. The occasion was a very great one. Cloth of gold hung in the + chapel, the entrance-hall was splendid with flowers, and the whole white + front of the buildings had put on signs of holiday. Indeed, this festival + was unique, the very greatest day in the history of the sisterhood. + Easter, Christmas, and the saints’ days recurred annually in their proper + order, and the emotions they brought with them were no doubt familiar to + holy ladies whose business it was to live in close touch with the other + world. But on this day the great of the earth, beings much more + unapproachable, as a rule, than the saints, were to visit the convent. + Honour was to be paid to ladies whose magnificence was guaranteed by + worldly titles; to the Proconsuls of the far-off Imperial power, holders + of the purse-strings of the richest nation upon earth; to Judges + accustomed to sit in splendid robes and awful head-dresses, pronouncing + the doom of malefactors; to a member of the Cabinet, a very mighty man, + though untitled; and quite possibly—a glittering hope—to the + Lord Lieutenant himself. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore no wonder that the nuns had decked their convent with all + possible splendour. On each side of the iron gateway was a flag-post. From + the top of one fluttered the green banner of Ireland, with its gold harp + and a great crown over it. From the other hung the Union Jack, emblem of + that marriage of nationalities for whose consummation eight centuries have + not sufficed. It was hoisted upside down—not with intentional + disrespect, but because Sister Gertrude, who superintended this part of + the decorations, had long ago renounced the world, and did not remember + that the tangled crosses had a top or a bottom to them. Between the posts + hung a festoon of signalling flags, long pointed strips of bunting with + red balls or blue on them. The central streamer just tipped as it + fluttered the top of the iron cross which marked the religious nature of + the gateway. The straight gravel walk inside was covered with red baize, + and on each side of it were planted tapering poles, round which crimson + and white muslin circled in alternate stripes, giving them the appearance + of huge old-fashioned sugar-sticks. These added to the gaiety of the + scene, though it cannot be supposed that they were of any actual use. The + most bewildered visitor was hardly likely to stray off the red baize or + miss his way to the door in front of him. Within the great entrance-hall + were palms and flowering shrubs in pots or tubs. The mosaic flooring, + imported from Italy, and a source of pride to all the Sisters, shone with + much washing and polishing. The Madonna with the blue eyes and the golden + crown, before which even Bishops crossed themselves, was less in evidence + than usual, for the expected guests were mostly heretics. She stood + retired behind the flower-pots, and veiled her benignity with the leaves + of palms. + </p> + <p> + Right and left of the hall stretched corridors, whose shining parquet + invited the curious to explore the working-rooms and eating-rooms which + lay beyond. The door of the chapel stood open, and offered a vision of + simpering angels crowding the canvas of the altar-piece, a justly-admired + specimen of German religious art. Before it, dimly seen, two nuns knelt, + types of conventual piety, absorbed in spiritual contemplation amid the + tumult of the world’s invasion of their sanctuary. Another door led to the + garden. Here a fountain played into a great stone basin, and neat gravel + walks intersected each other at sharp angles among flower-beds. The grass + which lay around the maze of paths was sacred as a rule, even from the + list slippers of the nuns, but to-day booths stood on it like stalls at a + charity bazaar, hung with tweeds, blankets, and stockings. A tall Calvary + lowered incongruously over one. An inferior Madonna, deposed from her old + station in the entrance-hall, presided in a weather-beaten blue robe over + another. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the garden, blocked off from it by a white wall, lay the factory + itself, the magnet which was drawing the great of the earth to the + nunnery. Here were the workers, all of them bright young women, smiling + pleasantly and well washed for the occasion. They were dressed in neat + violet petticoats and white blouses, with shawls thrown back from their + heads, a glorified presentment of the Mayo woman’s working dress. Here and + there, a touch of realism creditable to the Reverend Mother’s talent for + stage management, one sat in bare feet—not, of course, dust or mud + stained, as bare feet are apt to be in Connaught, but clean. The careful + observer of detail might have been led to suppose that the Sisters + improved upon the practice of the Holy Father himself, and daily washed + the feet of the poor. + </p> + <p> + Everywhere fresh-complexioned, gentle-faced nuns flitted silently about. + The brass crosses pendent over their breasts relieved with a single + glitter the sombre folds of their robes. Snowy coifs, which had cost the + industrial schoolgirls of a sister house hours of labour and many tears, + shone, glazed and unwrinkled, round their heads. Even the youngest of them + had acquired the difficult art of walking gracefully with her hands folded + in front of her. + </p> + <p> + At about two o’clock the visitors began to arrive, although the train from + Dublin which was to bring the very elect was not due for another + half-hour. Lady Geoghegan, grown pleasantly stout and cheerfully + benignant, came by a local train, and rejoiced the eyes of beholders with + a dress made of one of the convent tweeds. Sir Gerald followed her, + awkward and unwilling. He had been dragged with difficulty from his books + and the society of his children, and was doubtful whether a cigar in a + nunnery garden might not be counted sacrilege. With them was a wonderful + person—an English priest: it was thus he described himself—whom + Lady Geoghegan had met in Yorkshire. His charming manners and good Church + principles had won her favour and earned him the holiday he was enjoying + at Clogher House. He was arrayed in a pair of gray trousers, a white + shirt, and a blazer with the arms of Brazenose College embroidered on the + pocket, his sacerdotal character being marked only by his collar. He + leaped gaily from the car which brought them from the station, and, as he + assisted his hostess to alight, amazed the little crowd around the gate by + chaffing the driver in an entirely unknown tongue. The good man had an ear + for music, and plumed himself on his ability to pick up any dialect he + heard—Scotch, Yorkshire, or Irish brogue. The driver was bewildered, + but smiled pleasantly. He realized that the gentleman was a foreigner, and + since the meaning of his speech was not clear, it was quite likely that he + might be hazy about the value of money and the rates of car hire. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess of Drummin came in her landau. Like Lady Geoghegan, she marked + the national and industrial nature of the occasion in her attire. At much + personal inconvenience, for the day was warm, she wore a long cloak of + rich brown tweed, adorned with rows of large leather-covered buttons. Lady + Josephine Maguire fluttered after her. She had bidden her maid disguise a + dress, neither Irish nor homespun, with as much Carrickmacross lace as + could be attached to it. Lord Eustace, who represented his father, + appeared in all the glory of a silk hat and a frock-coat. He eyed Sir + Gerald’s baggy trousers and shabby wideawake with contempt, and turned + away his eyes from beholding the vanity of obviously bad form when he came + face to face with the English priest in his blazer. + </p> + <p> + A smiling nun took charge of each party as it arrived. Lady Geoghegan + plied hers with questions, and received a series of quite uninforming + answers. Her husband followed her, bent principally upon escaping from the + precincts if he could. Already he was bored, and he knew that speeches + from great men were in store for him if he were forced to linger. The + Duchess of Drummin eyed each object presented to her notice gravely + through long-handled glasses, but gave her attendant nun very little + conversational help. Lady Josephine made every effort to be intelligent, + and inquired in a dormitory where the looking-glasses were. She was amazed + to hear that the nuns did, or failed to do, their hair—the + head-dresses concealed the result of their efforts—without mirrors. + Lord Eustace was preoccupied. Amid his unaccustomed surroundings he walked + uncertain whether to keep his hat on his head or hold it in his hands. The + English priest, whose name was Austin, got detached from Lady Geoghegan, + and picked up a stray nun for himself. She took him, by his own request, + straight to the chapel. He crossed himself with elaborate care on + entering, and knelt for a moment before the altar. The nun was delighted. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you, too, are a Catholic?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly,’ he replied briskly—‘an English Catholic.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! many of our priests go to England. Perhaps you have met Father + O’Connell. He is on a London mission.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Mr. Austin, ‘I do not happen to have met him. My church is in + Yorkshire.’ + </p> + <p> + The nun gazed at him in amazement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your church! Then you are—— + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am a priest.’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes slowly travelled over him. They began at the gray trousers, + passed to the blazer, resting a moment on the college arms, which + certainly suggested the ecclesiastical, and remained fixed on his collar. + After all, why should she, a humble nun, doubt his word when he said he + was a priest? Perhaps he might belong to some order of which she had never + heard. Eccentricities of costume might be forced on the English clergy by + Protestant intolerance. She smothered her uncertainty, and took him at his + word. They went together into the garden. Mr. Austin took off his hat + before the tarnished Madonna, and crossed himself again. The nun’s doubts + vanished. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to buy some of this tweed. Is it + for sale?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, certainly. Sister Aloysia will sell it to you. We are so glad, so + very glad, when anyone will buy what our poor workers make. It is all a + help to the good cause.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now this,’ said Mr. Austin, fingering a bright-green cloth, ‘would make a + nice lady’s dress. Don’t you think so?’ + </p> + <p> + The nun cast down her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know, Father, about dresses. Sister Aloysia, the Reverend Father + wants to buy tweed to make a dress for ‘—she hesitated; perhaps it + was his niece, but he looked young to have a full-grown niece—‘for + his sister.’ + </p> + <p> + Sister Aloysia looked round her, puzzled. She saw no Reverend Father. + </p> + <p> + ‘This,’ said the other, ‘is Father—Father——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Austin,’ he helped her out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Austin,’ added the nun. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you wish,’ said Sister Aloysia, ‘to buy a dress for your sister?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not for my sister,’ said Mr. Austin—‘for my wife.’ + </p> + <p> + Both nuns started back as if he had tried to strike them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your wife! Your wife! Then you are a Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘I detest all Protestants. I am a Catholic—an + Anglo-Catholic.’ + </p> + <p> + Neither of the nuns had ever heard of an Anglo-Catholic before. What + manner of religion such people might profess was doubtful and unimportant. + One thing was clear—this was not a priest in any sense of the word + which they could recognise. They distrusted him, as a wolf, not certainly + in the clothing, but using the language, of a sheep. The situation became + embarrassing. Mr. Austin prepared to bow himself away. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘I shall ask Lady Geoghegan’—he rolled the title + out emphatically; it formed a salve to his wounded dignity—‘I shall + ask Lady Geoghegan to purchase the tweed for me. I must be on the look-out + for a friend who promised to meet me here this afternoon—a young man + whom I contemplate engaging as my curate. I am most particular in the + choice of a curate, and should, of course, prefer a public school and + ‘Varsity man. I need scarcely say that I refer only to Oxford and + Cambridge as the Universities. As a rule, I do not care for Irishmen, but + on the recommendation of my friend Dr. Henry, I am willing to consider + this Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Mr. Austin that a preference for the English Universities, + the friendship of a distinguished professor, a contempt for the mere + Irishman, and a titled hostess ought to restore the respect he had + forfeited by the mention of his wife. Curiously enough, and this shows the + disadvantage of a monastic seclusion from the world, the nuns remained + unimpressed. The conception of a married priest was too much for them. As + he walked away Mr. Austin heard Sister Aloysia murmur: + </p> + <p> + ‘How very indecent!’ + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the train from Dublin had arrived, and Mr. Austin, when he + returned after his interview with Hyacinth, found that even the two nuns + he had victimized had forgotten him in the excitement of gazing at more + important visitors. Mr. Justice Saunders, a tall, stout man with a florid + face, made a tour of the factory under the charge of one of the senior + Sisters. He took little notice of what he was shown, being mainly bent on + explaining to his escort how he came to be known in legal circles as + ‘Satan Saunders.’ Afterwards he added a tale of how he had once bluffed a + crowd in an out-of-the-way country town into giving three cheers for the + Queen. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re all loyal here,’ he said. ‘I saw the Union Jack flying over the + gate as I came in.’ + </p> + <p> + The nun smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile, and the Judge, watching her, was + struck by her innocence and simplicity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ she said, ‘the Church must always be loyal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I’m not so sure of that. I’ve met a few firebrands of priests in my + time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, those!’ she said with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘You must not think + of them. It will always be easy to keep them in order when the time comes. + They spring from the cabins. What can you expect of them? But the Church—— + Can the Church fail of respect for the Sovereign?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clifford and Mr. Davis followed Judge Saunders. They were members of + the Congested Districts Board, and it was clear from the manner of the nun + who escorted them that they were guests of very considerable importance in + her estimation. Mr. Clifford was an Englishman who had been imported to + assist in governing Ireland because he was married to the sister of the + Chief Secretary’s wife. He was otherwise qualified for the task by + possessing a fair knowledge of the points of a horse. He believed that he + knew Ireland and the Irish people thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + His colleague, Mr. Davis, was a man of quite a different stamp. The son of + a Presbyterian farmer in County Tyrone, he had joined the Irish + Parliamentary party, and made himself particularly objectionable in + Westminster. He had devoted his talents to discovering and publishing the + principles upon which appointments to lucrative posts are made by the + officials in Dublin Castle. It was found convenient at last to provide him + with a salary and a seat on the Congested Districts Board. Thus he found + himself engaged in ameliorating the lot of the Connaught peasants. Mr. + Clifford used to describe him as ‘a bit of a bounder—in fact, a + complete outsider—but no fool.’ His estimate of Mr. Clifford was + perhaps less complimentary. + </p> + <p> + ‘Every business,’ he used to say, ‘must have at least one gentleman in it + to do the entertaining and the dining out. We have Mr. Clifford. He’s a + first-rate man at one of the Lord Lieutenant’s balls.’ + </p> + <p> + A professor from Trinity College was one of the two guests conducted by + the Reverend Mother herself. Nominally this learned gentleman existed for + the purpose of impressing upon the world the beauties of Latin poetry, but + he was best known to fame as an orator on the platforms of the Primrose + League, and a writer of magazine articles on Irish questions. He was a man + who owed his success in life largely to his faculty for always keeping + beside the most important person present. The Lord Lieutenant, being + slightly indisposed, had been unable to make an early start, so the most + honourable stranger was Mr. Chesney, the Chief Secretary. To him Professor + Cairns attached himself, and received a share of the Reverend Mother’s + blandishments. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Chesney himself was dapper and smiling as usual. Even the early hour + at which he had been obliged to leave home had neither ruffled his temper + nor withered the flower in his buttonhole. He spent his money generously + at the various stalls in the garden, addressed friendly remarks to the + women in the factory, and asked the questions with which Mr. Davis had + primed him in the train. + </p> + <p> + Quite a crowd of minor people followed the great statesman. There were + barristers who hoped to become County Court Judges, and ladies who enjoyed + a novel kind of occasion for displaying their clothes, hoping to see their + names afterwards in the newspaper accounts of the proceedings. There were + a few foremen from leading Dublin shops, who foresaw the possibility of a + fashionable boom in Robeen tweeds and flannels. There were also reporters + from the Dublin papers, and a representative—Miss O’Dwyer—of a + syndicate which supplied ladies’ journals with accounts of the clothes + worn at fashionable functions. + </p> + <p> + The supreme moment of the day arrived when the company assembled to listen + to words of wisdom from the orators selected to address them. Seats had + been provided by carting in forms from the neighbouring national schools. + A handsomely-carved chair of ecclesiastical design awaited Mr. Chesney. + </p> + <p> + He opened his speech by assuring his audience that there was no occasion + for him to address them at all, a truth which struck home to the heart of + Sir Gerald, who was trying to arrange himself comfortably at a desk + designed for a class of infants. + </p> + <p> + ‘Facts,’ Mr. Chesney explained himself, ‘are more eloquent than words. You + have seen what I could never have described to you—the contented + workers in this factory and the artistic designs of the fabrics they + weave. Many of you remember what Robeen was a few years ago—a + howling wilderness. We are told on high authority that even the wilderness + shall blossom as a rose.’ + </p> + <p> + He bowed in the direction of the Reverend Mother, possibly with a feeling + that it was suitable to acknowledge her presence when quoting Holy Writ, + possibly with a vague idea that she might consider herself a spiritual + descendant of the Prophet Isaiah. ‘You see it now a hive of happy + industry.’ + </p> + <p> + He observed with pleasure that the reporters were busy with their + note-books, and he knew that these editors of public utterance might be + relied on to unravel a tangled metaphor before publishing a speech. He + went on light-heartedly, confident that in the next day’s papers his + wilderness would blossom into something else, and that the hive, if it + appeared at all, would be arrived at by some other process than + blossoming. The habit of rolling out agreeable platitudes to audiences + forced to listen is one which grows on public men as dram-drinking does on + the common herd. Mr. Chesney was evidently enjoying himself, and there + seemed no reason why he should ever stop. He could, and perhaps would, + have gone on for hours but for the offensive way in which Judge Saunders + snapped the case of his watch at the end of every period. There was really + no hurry, for the special train which was to bring them back to Dublin + would certainly wait until they were ready for it. Mr. Chesney felt + aggrieved at the repeated interruption, and closed his speech without + giving the audience the benefit of his peroration. + </p> + <p> + The Judge came next, and began with reminding his hearers that he was + known as ‘Satan Saunders.’ An account of the origin of the name followed, + and was enjoyed even by those who had listened to the Judge’s oratory + before, and therefore knew the story. There was something piquant, almost + <i>risqué</i>, in the constant repetition of a really wicked word like + ‘Satan’ in the halls of a nunnery. The audience laughed reassuringly, and + the Judge went on to supply fresh pabulum for mirth by suggesting that the + Reverend Mother should clothe her nuns in their own tweeds. He was + probably right in supposing that the new costumes would add a gaiety to + the religious life. Other jests followed, and he sat down amid a flutter + of applause after promising that when he next presided over the Winter + Assizes in a draughty court-house he would send for a Robeen blanket and + wrap his legs in it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clifford, who followed the Judge, began by wondering whether anyone + present had ever been in Lancashire. After a pause, during which no one + owned to having crossed the Channel, he said that Lancashire was the home + of the modern factory. There every man and woman earned good wages, wore + excellent clothes, and lived in a house fitted with hot and cold water + taps and a gas-meter. It was his hope to see Mayo turned into another + Lancashire. When ladies of undoubted commercial ability, like the Lady + Abbess who presided over the Robeen convent—Lady Abbess sounded + well, and Mr. Clifford was not strong on ecclesiastical titles—took + the matter up, success was assured. All that was required for the + development of the factory system in Mayo was capital, and that ‘we, the + Congested Districts Board, are in a position to supply.’ With the help of + some prompting from Mr. Davis, he proceeded to lay before the audience a + few figures purporting to explain the Board’s expenditure. + </p> + <p> + Professor Cairns was evidently anxious to follow Mr. Clifford, if only in + the humble capacity of the proposer of a vote of thanks. But his name was + not on the programme, and Mr. Chesney was already engaged in a whispered + conversation with the Reverend Mother. Ignoring the professor, almost + rudely, he announced that the company in general was invited to tea in the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + The refreshments provided, if not substantial, were admirable in quality. + There happened just then to be a young lady engaged, at the expense of the + County Council, in teaching cookery in a neighbouring convent. She was + sent over to Robeen for the occasion, and made a number of delightful + cakes at extremely small expense. The workers in the factory had given the + butter she required as a thank-offering, and the necessary eggs came from + another convent where the nuns, with financial assistance from the + Congested Districts Board, kept a poultry-farm. The Reverend Mother + dispensed her hospitality with the same air of generosity with which Mr. + Clifford had spoken of providing capital for the future ecclesiastical + factories. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + The Reverend Mother bowed out the last of her guests, and retired to her + own room well satisfied. She was assured of further support from the + Congested Districts Board, and certain debts which had grown uncomfortably + during her struggle with Mr. Quinn need trouble her no longer. Her goods + would be extensively advertised next morning in the daily press. Her house + would obtain a celebrity likely to attract the most eligible novices—those, + that is to say, who would bring the largest sums of money as their + dowries. There arose before her mind a vision of almost unbounded wealth + and all that might be done with it. What statues of saints might not Italy + supply! French painters and German organ-builders would compete for the + privilege of furnishing the chapel of her house. Already she foresaw + pavements of gorgeous mosaic, windows radiant with Munich glass, and store + of vestments to make her sacristy famous. Grandiose plans suggested + themselves of founding daughter houses in Melbourne, in Auckland, in + Capetown, in Natal. All things were possible to a well-filled purse. She + saw how her Order might open schools in English towns, where girls could + be taught French, Italian, Latin, music, all the accomplishments dear to + middle-class parents, at ridiculously low fees, or without fees at all. + She stirred involuntarily at the splendour of her visions. The day’s + weariness dropped off from her. She rose from her chair and went into the + chapel. She prostrated herself before the altar, and lay passive in a glow + of warm emotion. For God, for the Mother of God, for the Catholic Church, + she had laboured and suffered and dared. Now she was well within sight of + the end, the golden reward, the fulfilment of hopes that had never been + altogether selfish. + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts, sanctified now by the Presence on the altar, drifted out + again on to the shining sea of the future. What she, a humble nun, had + done others would do. A countless army of missionary men and women + marching from the Irish shore would conquer the world’s conquerors, regain + for the Church the Anglo-Saxon race. Once in the far past Irish men and + women had Christianized Europe, and Ireland had won her glorious title, + ‘Island of Saints.’ Now the great day was to dawn again, the great race to + be reborn. For this end had Ireland been kept faithful and pure for + centuries, just that she might be at last the witness to the spiritual in + a materialized world. For this end had the Church in Ireland gone through + the storm of persecution, suffered the blight of the world’s contempt, + that she might emerge in the end entirely fitted for the bloodless + warfare. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I am one of the race, a daughter of Ireland. And I am a worker—nay, + one who has accomplished something—in the vineyard of the Church. + Ah, God!’ + </p> + <p> + She was swept forward on a wave of emotion. Thought ceased, expiring in + the ecstasy of a communion which transcended thought. Then suddenly, sharp + as an unexpected pain, an accusation shot across her soul, shattering the + coloured glory of the trance in an instant. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who am I that I should boast?’ + </p> + <p> + The long years of introspection, the discipline of hundreds of + heart-searching confessions, the hardly-learned lesson of self-distrust, + made it possible for her to recognise the vain-glory even with the halo of + devotion shining round it. She abased herself in penitence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me the work, my Lord; give others the glory and the fruit of it. Let + me toil, but withhold the reward from me. May my eyes not see it, lest I + be lifted up! Nay, give me not even work to do, lest I should be praised + or learn to praise myself. “Nunc dimittis servam tuam, Domine, secundum + verbum tuum in pace.”’ + </p> + <p> + There stole over her a sense of peace—numb, silent peace—wholly + unlike the satisfaction which had flooded her in her own room or during + the earlier ecstasy before the altar. She raised her eyes slowly till they + rested on the shrine where the body of the sacrifice reposed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum.’ + </p> + <p> + At last she rose. The lines of care and age gathered again upon her face. + Her eyes gleamed with keen intelligence. She braced herself with the + thought of all that might still lie before her. The advice of Iago, + strangely sanctified, clamoured in her heart—‘Put money in thy + purse.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + The Reverend Mother was not the only person well satisfied with the day. + The Right Hon. T. J. Chesney leant back in his saloon-carriage, and puffed + contentedly at his cigar. It might be his part occasionally—indeed, + frequently—to talk like a fool, but the man was shrewd enough. It + really seemed that he had hit on the true method of governing Ireland. + Nationalist members of Parliament could be muzzled, not by the foolish old + methods of coercion, but by winning the goodwill of the Bishops. No Irish + member dared open his mouth when a priest bid him keep it shut, or give a + vote contrary to the wishes of the hierarchy. And the Bishops were + reasonable men. They looked at things from a point of view intelligible to + Englishmen. There was no ridiculous sentimentality about their demands. + For so much money they would silence the clamour of the Parliamentary + party; for so much more they would preach a modified loyalty, would assert + before the world that the Irish people were faithful servants of the + Sovereign; for a good lump sum down they would undertake to play ‘God Save + the King’ or ‘Rule, Britannia’ on the organ at Maynooth. Of course, the + money must be paid: Mr. Chesney was beginning to understand that, and felt + the drawback. It would have been much pleasanter and simpler if the + Bishops would have been content with promises. There was a certain + difficulty in obtaining the necessary funds without announcing precisely + what they were for. But, after all, a man cannot be called a great + statesman without doing something to deserve the title, and British + statesmanship is the art of hoodwinking the taxpayer. That is all—not + too difficult a task for a clever man. Mr. Chesney reckoned on no power in + Ireland likely to be seriously troublesome. The upper classes were either + helpless and sulking, or helpless and smiling artificially. They might + grumble in private or try to make themselves popular by joining the chorus + of the Church’s flatterers. Either way their influence was inconsiderable. + Was there anyone else worth considering? The Orangemen were still a noisy + faction, but their organization appeared to be breaking up. They were more + bent on devouring their own leaders than interfering with him. There were + a number of people anxious to revive the Irish language, who at one time + had caused him some little uneasiness. He had found it quite impossible to + understand the Gaelic League, and, being an Englishman, arrived gradually + at the comfortable conclusion that what he could not understand must be + foolish. Now, he had great hopes that the Bishops might capture the + movement. + </p> + <p> + If once it was safely under the patronage of the Church, he had nothing + more to fear from it. No doubt, resolutions would be passed, but + resolutions——— Mr. Chesney smiled. There were, of + course, the impossible people connected with the <i>Croppy</i>. Mr. + Chesney did not like them, and in the bottom of his heart was a little + nervous about them. They seemed to be very little afraid of the authority + of the Church, and he doubted if the authority of the state would frighten + them at all. Still, there were very few of them, and their abominable + spirit of independence was spreading slowly, if at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘They won’t,’ he said to himself, ‘be of any importance for some years to + come, at all events, and five years hence——’ + </p> + <p> + In five years Mr. Chesney hoped to be Prime Minister, or perhaps to have + migrated to the House of Lords, At least, he expected to be out of + Ireland, Meanwhile, he lighted a fresh cigar. The condition of the country + was extremely satisfactory, and his policy was working out better than he + had hoped. + </p> + <p> + The other travellers by the special train were equally well pleased, + Ireland, so they understood Mr. Chesney, was to be made happy and + contented, peaceful and prosperous. It followed that there must be Boards + under the control of Dublin Castle—more and more Boards, an endless + procession of them. There is no way devised by the wit of man for securing + prosperity and contentment except the creation of Boards. If Boards, then + necessarily officials—officials with salaries and travelling + allowances. Nice gentlemanly men, with villas at Dalkey and Killiney, + would perform duties not too arduous in connection with the Boards, and + carry out the benevolent policy of the Government. There was not a man in + the train, except the newspaper reporters, who did not believe in the + regeneration of Ireland by Boards, and everyone hoped to take a share in + the good work, with the prospect of a retiring pension afterwards. + </p> + <p> + The local magnates—with the exception of Sir Gerald Geoghegan, whose + temper had been bad from the first—also went home content. The minds + of great ladies work somewhat confusedly, for Providence, no doubt wisely, + has denied to most of them the faculty of reason. It was enough for them + to feel that the nuns were ‘sweet women,’ and that in some way not very + clear Mr. Chesney was getting the better of ‘those wretched agitators.’ + </p> + <p> + Only one of all whom the special train had brought down failed to return + in it. Mary O’Dwyer slipped out of the convent before the speeches began, + and wandered away towards the desolate stony hill where the stream which + turns the factory mill took its rise. It grieved her to miss the cup of + tea which a friendly nun had led her to expect; but even tea might be too + dearly purchased, and Miss O’Dwyer had a strong dislike to listening to + what Augusta Goold described as the ‘sugared hypocrisies of professional + liars.’ Besides, she had her cigarette-case in her pocket, and a smoke, + unattainable for her in the convent or the train, was much to be desired. + She left the road at the foot of the hill, and picked her way along the + rough bohireen which led upwards along the course of the stream. After + awhile even this track disappeared. The stream tumbled noisily over rocks + and stones, the bog-stained water glowing auburn-coloured in the sunlight. + The ling and heather were springy under her feet, and the air was sweet + with the scent of the bog-myrtle. She spied round her for a rock which + cast a shade upon the kind of heathery bed she had set her heart to find. + Her eyes lit upon a little party—a young man and two girls—encamped + with a kettle, a spirit-stove, and a store of bread-and-butter. Her + renunciation of the convent tea had not been made without a pang. She + looked longingly at the steam which already spouted from the kettle. The + young man said a few words to the girls, then stood up, raised his hat to + her, and beckoned. She approached him, wondering. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely it can’t be—I really believe it is——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Miss O’Dwyer, it really is myself, Hyacinth Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, you are the last person I expected to meet, though of course + I knew you were somewhere down in these parts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come and have some tea,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And let me introduce you to Miss + Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer took stock of the two girls. ‘They make their own clothes,’ + she thought, ‘and apparently only see last year’s fashion-plates. The + eldest isn’t bad-looking. How is it all West of Ireland girls have such + glorious complexions? Her figure wouldn’t be bad if her mother bought her + a decent pair of stays. I wonder who they are, and what they are doing + here with Hyacinth. They can’t be his sisters.’ + </p> + <p> + While they drank their tea certain glances and smiles gave her an inkling + of the truth. ‘I suppose Hyacinth is engaged to the elder one,’ she + concluded. ‘That kind of girl wouldn’t dare to make eyes at a man unless + she had some kind of right to him.’ + </p> + <p> + After tea she produced her cigarette-case. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said to Marion. ‘I know it’s very shocking, + but I’ve had a tiring day and an excellent tea, and oh, this heather is + delicious to lie on!’ She stretched herself at full length as she spoke. + ‘I really must smoke, just to arrive at perfect felicity for once in my + life. How happy you people ought to be who always have in a place like + this!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Marion, ‘it sometimes rains, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! and then these sweet spots get boggy, I suppose, and you have to wear + thick, clumping boots.’ + </p> + <p> + Her own were very neat and small, and she knew that they must obtrude + themselves on the eye while she lay prone. Elsie, whose shoes were patched + as well as thick-soled, made an ineffectual attempt to cover them with her + skirt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘tell us what you are doing down here. They haven’t + made you an inspectress of boarded-out workhouse children, have they? or + sent you down to improve the breed of hens?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I have spent the afternoon helping to govern + Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + Marion and Elsie gazed at her in wonder. A lady who smoked cigarettes and + bore the cares of State upon her shoulders was a novelty to them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have sat in the seats of the mighty,’ she said; ‘I have breathed the + same air as Mr. Chesney and two members of the C.D.B. Think of that! + Moreover, I might, if I liked, have drunk tea with a Duchess.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you were at the convent function, I suppose. I + wonder I didn’t see you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth were <i>you</i> doing there? I thought you hated the nuns + and all their ways.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go on about yourself,’ said Hyacinth. ‘You are not employed by the + Government to inspect infant industries, are you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no; I was one of the representatives of the press. I have notes here + of all the beautiful clothes worn by the wives and daughters of the West + British aristocracy. Listen to this: “Lady Geoghegan was gowned in an + important creation of saffron tweed, the product of the convent looms. We + are much mistaken if this fabric in just this shade is not destined to + play a part in robing the <i>élégantes</i> who will shed a lustre on our + house-parties during the autumn.” And this—you must just listen to + this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t,’ said Hyacinth; ‘you can if you like, Marion. I’ll shut my + ears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I’ll talk seriously. When are you coming + up to Dublin? You know my brother has taken over the editorship of the <i>Croppy</i>. + We are going to make it a great power in the country. We are coming out + with a policy which will sweep the old set of political talkers out of + existence, and clear the country of Mr. Chesney and the likes of him.’ She + waved her hand towards the convent. ‘Oh, it is going to be great. It is + great already. Why don’t you come and help us?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at her. She had half risen and leaned upon her elbow. Her + face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. There was no doubt about the + genuineness of her enthusiasm. The words of her poem, long since, he + supposed, blotted from his memory, suddenly returned to him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘O, desolate mother, O, Erin, + When shall the pulse of thy life which but flutters in Connacht + Throb through thy meadows and boglands and mountains and cities?’ +</pre> + <p> + Had it come at last, this revival of the nation’s vitality? Had it come + just too late for him to share it? + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall not help you,’ he said sadly; ‘I do not suppose that I ever could + have helped you much, but now I shall not even try.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at him quickly with a startled expression in her eyes. Then she + turned to Marion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you preventing him?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is not Marion. But I am going away—going to + England. I am going to be ordained, to become an English curate. Do you + understand? I came here to-day to see the man who is to be my Rector, and + to make final arrangements with him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Hyacinth!’ + </p> + <p> + For some minutes she said no more. He saw in her face a wondering sorrow, + a pathetic submissiveness to an unexpected disappointment, like the look + in the face of a dog struck suddenly by the hand of a friend. He felt that + he could have borne her anger better. No doubt if he had made his + confession to Augusta Goold he would have been overwhelmed with passionate + wrath or withered by a superb contemptuous stare. Then he could have + worked himself to anger in return. But this! + </p> + <p> + ‘You will never speak to any of us again,’ she went on. You will be + ashamed even to read the <i>Croppy</i>. You will wear a long black coat + and gray gloves. You will learn to talk about the “Irish Problem” and the + inestimable advantages of belonging to a world-wide Empire, and about the + great heart of the English people. I see it all—all that will happen + to you. Your hair will get quite smooth and sleek. Then you will become a + Vicar of a parish. You will live in a beautiful house, with Virginia + creeper growing over it and plum-trees in the garden. You will have a nice + clean village for a parish, with old women who drop curtsies to you, and + men—such men! stupid as bullocks! I know it all. And you will be + ashamed to call yourself an Irishman. Oh, Hyacinth!’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer’s catalogue of catastrophes was curiously mixed. Perhaps the + comedy in it tended to obscure the utter degradation of the ruin she + described. But the freakish incongruity of the speech did not strike + Hyacinth. He found in it only two notes—pity that such a fate + awaited him, and contempt for the man who submitted to it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot help myself. Will you not make an effort to understand? I am + trying to do what is right.’ + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he said, ‘I know it is no use. You could not understand even if I + told you all I felt.’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. He heard her sob. Then she turned + without a word and left them. He stood watching her till she reached the + road and started on her walk to the railway-station. Then he took Marion’s + two hands in his, and held them fast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will <i>you</i> understand?’ he asked her. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him. Her face was all tenderness. Love shone on him—trusting, + unquestioning, adoring love, love that would be loyal to the uttermost; + but her eyes were full of a dumb wonder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + One morning near the end of September the <i>Irish Times</i> published a + list of Irish graduates ordained in England on the previous Sunday. Among + other names appeared: + </p> + <p> + ‘Hyacinth Conneally, B.A., T.C.D., deacon, by the Bishop of Ripon, for the + curacy of Kirby-Stowell.’ + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards the <i>Croppy</i> printed the following verses, signed + ‘M.O’D.‘: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘EIRE TO H. C. + + ‘Bight across the low, flat curragh from the sea, + Drifting, driving sweeps the rain, + Where the bogborn, bent, brown rushes grow for me, + Barren grass instead of grain. + + ‘Out across the sad, soaked curragh towards the sea, + Striding, striving go the men, + With their spades and forks and barrows toil for me + That my corn may grow again + + ‘Ah! but safe from blast of wind and bitter sea, + You who loved me—-Tusa féin— + Live and feel and work for others, not for me, + Never coming back again. + + ‘Yes, while all across the curragh from the West + Drifts the sea-rain off the sea, + You have chosen. Have you chosen what is best + For yourself, O son, and me?’ +</pre> + <p> + Hyacinth read the verses, cut them out of the <i>Croppy</i>, and locked + them in the box in which he stored the few papers of interest he + possessed. The sorrowful judgment pronounced on his conduct affected him, + but only in a dull way, like an additional blow upon a limb already + bruised to numbness. He accepted his new duties and performed them without + any feeling of enthusiasm, and after a little while without any definite + hope of doing any good. He got no further in understanding the people he + had to deal with, and he was aware that even those of them who came most + frequently into contact with him regarded him as a stranger. A young + doctor whose wife took a fancy to Marion tried to make friends with him. + The result was unsatisfactory, owing to Hyacinth’s irresponsiveness. He + could not, without yawning piteously, spend an evening discussing the + performances of the local cricket club; nor did his conduct improve when + the two ladies suspended their talk and sacrificed an hour to playing + four-handed halma with their husbands. An unmarried solicitor, attracted + by Marion’s beauty and friendliness, adopted the habit of calling at + Hyacinth’s little house about nine or ten o’clock in the evening. He was a + man full of anecdote and simple mirth, and he often stayed, quite happily, + till midnight. Every week he brought an illustrated paper as an offering + to Marion, and recommended the short stories in it to her notice. He + often asked Hyacinth’s advice and help in solving the conundrums set by + the prize editor. He took a mild interest in politics, and retailed gossip + picked up at the Conservative Club. After a while he gave up coming to the + house. Hyacinth blamed himself for being cold and unfriendly to the man. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Austin treated Hyacinth with kindness and some consideration, much as + a wise master treats an upper servant. He was anxious that his curate + should perform many and complicated ceremonies in church, was seriously + intent on the wearing of correctly-coloured stoles, and ‘ran,’ as he + expressed it himself, a very large number of different organizations, of + each of which the objective appeared to be a tea-party in the parochial + hall. Hyacinth accepted his tuition, bowed low at the times when Mr. + Austin liked to bow, watched for the seasons when stoles bloomed white and + gold, changed to green, or faded down to violet. He tried to make himself + agreeable to the ‘united mothers’ and the rest when they assembled for + tea-drinking. Mr. Austin asserted that these were the methods by which the + English people were being taught the Catholic faith. Hyacinth did not + doubt it, nor did he permit himself to wonder whether it was worth while + teaching them. + </p> + <p> + To Marion the new life was full of many delights. The surpliced choir-boys + gratified her aesthetic sense, and she entered herself as one of a band of + volunteers who scrubbed the chancel tiles and polished a brass cross. She + smiled, kissed, and petted Hyacinth out of the fits of depression which + came on him, managed his small income with wonderful skill, and wrote + immensely long letters home to Ballymoy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + It is very hard for a poor man to travel from one side of England to the + other side of Ireland, because railway companies, even when, to allure the + public, they advertise extraordinary excursions, charge a great deal for + their tickets. The journey becomes still more difficult of accomplishment + when the poor man is married. Then there are two tickets to be bought, and + very likely most of the money which might have bought them has been spent + securing the safe arrival of a baby—a third person who in due time + will also require a railway-ticket. This was Hyacinth’s case. For two + summers he had no holiday at all, and it was only by the most fortunate of + chances that he found himself during the third summer in a position to go + to Ballymoy. He sublet his house to a freshly-arrived supervisor of Inland + Revenue, who wanted six weeks to look about for a suitable residence. With + the nine pounds paid in advance by this gentleman, Hyacinth and Marion, + having with them their baby, a perambulator, and much other luggage, set + off for Ballymoy. + </p> + <p> + The journey is not a very pleasant one, because it is made over the lines + of three English railway companies, whose trains refuse to connect with + each other at junctions, and because St. George’s Channel is generally + rough. The discomfort of third-class carriages is more acutely felt when + the Irish shore is reached, but the misery of having to feed and tend a + year-old child lasts the whole journey through. Therefore, Marion arrived + in Dublin dishevelled, weary, and, for all her natural placidness, + inclined to be cross. The steamer came to port at an hour which left them + just the faint hope of catching the earliest train to Ballymoy. + Disappointment followed the nervous strain of a rush across Dublin. Two + long hours intervened before the next train started, and the people who + keep the refreshment-room in Broadstone Station are not early risers. + Marion, without tea or courage, settled herself and the baby in the + draughty waiting-room. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was also dishevelled, dirty, and tired, having borne his full + share of strife with the child’s worst moods. But the sight of Ireland + from the steamer’s deck filled him with a strange sense of exultation. He + wished to shout with gladness when the gray dome of the Custom House rose + to view, immense above the low blanket of mist. Even the incredibly + hideous iron grating of the railway viaduct set his pulse beating + joyfully. He drew deep breaths, inhaling various abominable smells + delightedly. The voices of the sleepy porters on the quay roused in him a + craving for the gentle slovenliness of Irish speech. He fussed and hustled + Marion beyond the limits of her endurance, pretending eagerness to catch + the early train, caring in reality not at all whether any train were + caught or missed, filled only with a kind of frenzy to keep moving somehow + further into Ireland. In the cab he gave utterance to ridiculous + pleasantries. He seized the child from Marion, and held him, wailing + piteously, half out of the window, that his eyes might rest on the great + gilt characters which adorn the offices of the Gaelic League. It was with + rapture that he read Irish names, written and spelt in Irish, above the + shops, and saw a banner proclaiming the annual festival of Irish Ireland + hanging over the door of the Rotunda. The city had grown more Irish since + he left it. There was no possibility now, even in the early morning, with + few people but scavengers and milkmen in the streets, of mistaking for an + English town. + </p> + <p> + While Marion sat torpid in the waiting-room, he paced the platform eagerly + from end to end. He saw the train pushed slowly into position beside the + platform, watched porters sweep the accumulated débris of yesterday’s + traffic from the floors of the carriages, and rub with filthy rags the + brass doorhandles. Little groups of passengers began to arrive—first + a company of cattle-jobbers, four of them, red-faced men with keen, crafty + eyes, bound for some Western fair; then a laughing party of tourists, + women in short skirts and exaggeratedly protective veils, men with fierce + tweed knickerbockers dragging stuffed hold-alls and yellow bags. These + were evidently English. Their clear high-pitched voices proclaimed + contempt for their surroundings, and left no doubt of their nationality. + One of them addressed a bewildered porter in cheerful song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Are you right there, + Michael? are you right? + Have you got the parcel there for Mrs. White?’ +</pre> + <p> + He felt, and his companions sympathized, that he was entering into the + spirit of Irish life. Then, heralded by an obsequious guard, came a great + man, proconsular in mien and gait. Bags and rugs were wheeled beside him. + In his hand was a despatch-box bearing the tremendous initials of the + Local Government Board. He took complete possession of a first-class + smoking carriage, scribbled a telegram, perhaps of international + importance, handed it to the guard for instant despatch, and lit a + finely-odorous cigar. Hyacinth, humbled by the mere view of this + incarnation of the Imperial spirit, went meekly to the waiting-room to + fetch Marion and his child. He led them across the now crowded platform + towards a third-class carriage. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not go with you in your first-class carriage, Father Lavelle; so + that’s flat. Nor I won’t split the difference and go second either, if + that’s what you’re going to propose to me. Is it spend what would keep the + family of a poor man in bread and tea for a week, for the sake of easing + my back with a cushion? Get away with you. The plain deal board’s good + enough for me. And, moreover, I doubt very much if I’ve the money to do + it, if I were ever so willing. I’m afraid to look into my purse to count + the few coppers that’s left in it after paying that murdering bill in the + hotel you took me to. Gresham, indeed! A place where they’re not ashamed + to charge a poor old priest three and sixpence for his breakfast, and me + not able to eat the half of what they put before me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth turned quickly. Two priests stood together near the bookstall. + The one, a young man, handsome and well-dressed, he did not know. The + other he recognised at once. It seemed to be the same familiarly shabby + black coat which he wore, the same many-stained waistcoat, the identical + silk hat, ruffled and rain-spotted. The same pads of flesh hung flaccid + from his jaws; the red, cracked knuckles of his hands, well remembered, + were enormous still. Only the furrows on the face seemed to be ploughed + deeper and wider, and a few more stiff hairs curled over the general + bushiness of the grizzled eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Moran!’ cried Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am Father Moran. You’re right there. But who <i>you</i> are or how you + come to know me is more than I can tell. But wait a minute. I’ve a sort of + recollection of your voice. Will you speak to me again, and maybe I’ll be + able to put a name on you.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth said a few words rapidly in Irish. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have you now,’ said the priest. ‘You’re Hyacinth Conneally, the boy + that went out to fight for the Boers. Father Lavelle, this is a friend of + mine that I’ve known ever since he was born, and I haven’t laid eyes on + him these six years or more. You’re going West, Mr. Conneally? But of + course you are. Where else would you be going? We’ll travel together and + talk. If it’s second-class you’re going, Father Lavelle will have to lend + me the money to pay the extra on my ticket, so as I can go with you. + Seemingly it’s a Protestant minister you’ve grown into. Well now, who’d + have thought it? And you so set on fighting the battle of Armageddon and + all. It’s a come-down for you, so it is. But never mind. You might have + got yourself killed in it. There’s many a one killed or maimed for life in + smaller fights than it. It’s better to be a minister any day than a corpse + or a cripple. And as you are a minister, it’s likely to be third-class + you’re travelling. Times are changed since I was young. It was the priests + travelled third-class then, if they travelled at all, and the ministers + were cocked up on the cushions, looking down on the likes of us out of the + windows with the little red curtains half-drawn across them. Now it’ll be + Father Lavelle there, with his grand new coat that he says is Irish + manufacture—but I don’t believe him—who’ll be doing the + gentleman. But come along, Mr. Conneally—come along, and tell me all + the battles you fought and the Generals you made prisoners of, and how it + was you took to preaching afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, somewhat shyly, introduced the priest to Marion. Then a + ticket-collector drove them into their carriage and locked the door. + </p> + <p> + Father Moran began to catechize Hyacinth before the train started, and + drew from him, as they went westwards, the story of his disappointments, + doubts, hopes, veerings, and final despair. Hyacinth spoke unwillingly at + first, giving no more than necessary answers to the questions. Then, + because he found that reticence called down on him fresh and more detailed + inquiries, and also because the priest’s evident and sympathetic interest + redeemed a prying curiosity from offensiveness, he told his tale more + freely. Very soon there was no more need of questioning, and Father + Moran’s share in the talk took the form of comments interrupting a + narrative. + </p> + <p> + Of Captain Albert Quinn he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve heard of him, and a nice kind of a boy he seems to have been. I + suppose he fought when he got there. He’s just the sort that would be + splendid at the fighting. Well, God is good, and I suppose it’s to do the + fighting for the rest of us that He makes the likes of Captain Quinn. Did + you hear that they wanted to make him a member of Parliament? Well, they + did. Nothing less would please them. But what good would that be, when he + couldn’t set foot in the country for fear of being arrested?’ + </p> + <p> + Later on he was moved to laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘To think of your going on the road with a bag full of blankets and + shawls! I never heard of such a thing, and all the grand notions your head + was full of! Why didn’t you come my way? I’d have made Rafferty give you + an order. I’d have bought the makings of a frieze coat from you myself—I + would, indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + Afterwards he became grave again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t let you say the hard word about the nuns, Mr. Conneally. Don’t do + it, now. There’s plenty of good convents up and down through the country—more + than ever you’ll know of, being the black Protestant you are. And the ones + that ruined your business—supposing they did ruin it, and I’ve only + your word for that—what right have you to be blaming them? They were + trying to turn an honest penny by an honest trade, and that’s just what + you and your friend Mr. Quinn were doing yourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, conscious of a failure in good taste, shifted his ground, only + to be interrupted again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you may abuse the Congested Districts Board to your heart’s content. + I never could see what the Government made all the Boards for unless it + was to keep the people out of mischief. As long as there is a Board of any + kind about the country every blackguard will be so busy throwing stones at + it that he won’t have time nor inclination left to annoy decent people. + And I’ll say this for the Congested Districts Board: they mean well. + Indeed they do; not a doubt of it. There’s one good thing they did, + anyway, if there isn’t another, and that’s when they came to Carrowkeel + and bought the big Curragh Farm that never supported a Christian, but two + herds and some bullocks ever since the famine clearances. They fetched the + people down off the mountains and put them on it. Wasn’t that a good + thing, now? Sure, all Government Boards do more wrong than right. It’s the + nature of that sort of confederation. But it’s all the more thankful we + ought to be when once in a while they do something useful.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth came to tell of the choice which Canon Beecher offered him, and + dwelt with tragic emphasis on his own decision. The priest listened, a + smile on his lips, a look of pity which belied the smile in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you thought Ireland would be lost altogether unless you wrote articles + for Miss Goold in the <i>Croppy?</i> It’s no small opinion you have of + yourself, Hyacinth Conneally. And you thought you’d save your soul by + going to preach the Gospel to the English people? Was that it, now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was not,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and you know it wasn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it wasn’t. What was I thinking of to forget the young lady that + was in it? A fine wife you’ve got, any way. God bless her, and make you a + good husband to her! By the looks of her she’s better than you deserve. I + suppose it was to get money you went to England, so as to buy her pretty + dresses and a beautiful house to live in? Did you think you’d grow rich + over there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed I did not,’ said Hyacinth bitterly. ‘I knew we’d never be rich.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, couldn’t you as well have been poor in Ireland? And better, + for everybody’s poor here. But there, I know well enough it wasn’t money + you were after. Don’t be getting angry with me, now. It wasn’t for the + sake of saving your soul you went, nor to get your nice wife, though a man + might go a long way for the likes of her. I don’t know why you went, and + it’s my belief you don’t know yourself. But you made a mistake, whatever + you did it for, going off on that English mission. Is it a mission you + call it when you’re a Protestant? I don’t think it is, but it doesn’t + matter. You made a mistake. Why don’t you come back again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God knows I would if I could. It’s hungry I am to get back—just + sick with hunger and the great desire that is on me to be back again in + Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what’s to hinder you? Let me tell you this: There’s been four men + in your father’s place since he died. Never a one of the first three would + stay. They tell me the pay’s small, and the place is desolate to them for + the want of Protestants, there being none, you may say, but the + coastguards. After the third of them left it was long enough before they + got the fourth. I hear they went scouring and scraping round the four + coasts of the country with a trawl-net trying to get a man. And now + they’ve got him he’s all for going away. He says there’s no work to do, + and no people to preach to. But you’d find work, if you were there. I’d + find you work myself—work for the people you knew since you were + born, that’s in the way at last of getting to be the men and women they + were meant to be, and that wants all the help can be got for them. Why + don’t you come back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, Father Moran, I would if I could.’ ‘If you could! What’s the use + of talking? Isn’t your wife’s father a Canon? And wouldn’t that professor + in the college that you used to tell me of do something for you? What’s + the good of having fine friends like that if they won’t get you sent to a + place like Carrowkeel, that never another minister but yourself would as + much as eat his dinner in twice if he could help it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth glanced doubtfully at Marion. The child lay quiet in her arms. + She slept uncomfortably. It was clear that she had not cared to listen to + the conversation of the two men. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10538 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..317aa84 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10538 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10538) diff --git a/old/10538-0.txt b/old/10538-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..032fe2f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10538-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8743 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hyacinth, by George A. Birmingham + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hyacinth + 1906 + +Author: George A. Birmingham + +Release Date: January 23, 2008 [EBook #10538] +Last Updated: February 17, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYACINTH *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +HYACINTH + +By George A. Birmingham + +1906 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +In the year 1850 or thereabouts religious and charitable society in +England was seized with a desire to convert Irish Roman Catholics to +the Protestant faith. It is clear to everyone with any experience of +missionary societies that, the more remote the field of actual work, the +easier it is to keep alive the interest of subscribers. The mission to +Roman Catholics, therefore, commenced in that western portion of Galway +which the modern tourist knows as Connemara, and the enthusiasm was +immense. Elderly ladies, often with titles, were energetic in the cause +of the new reformation. Young ladies, some of them very attractive, +collected money from their brothers and admirers. States-men and Bishops +headed the subscription-lists, and influential committees earnestly +debated plans for spending the money which poured in. Faith in the +efficacy of money handled by influential committees is one of the +characteristics of the English people, and in this particular case +it seemed as if their faith were to be justified by results. Most +encouraging reports were sent to headquarters from Connemara. It +appeared that converts were flocking in, and that the schools of the +missionaries were filled to overflowing. In the matter of education +circumstances favoured the new reformation. The leonine John McHale, the +Papal Archbishop of Tuam, pursued a policy which drove the children of +his flock into the mission schools. The only other kind of education +available was that which some humorous English statesman had called +‘national,’ and it did not seem to the Archbishop desirable that an +Irish boy should be beaten for speaking his own language, or rewarded +for calling himself ‘a happy English child.’ He refused to allow the +building of national schools in his diocese, and thus left the cleverer +boys to drift into the mission schools, where they learnt carefully +selected texts of Scripture along with the multiplication-table. The +best of them were pushed on through Dublin University, and crowned the +hopes of their teachers by taking Holy Orders in the Church of England. +There are still to be met with in Galway and Mayo ancient peasants and +broken-down inhabitants of workhouses who speak with a certain pride +of ‘my brother the minister.’ There are also here and there in English +rectories elderly gentlemen who have almost forgotten the thatched +cottages where they ate their earliest potatoes. + +Among these cleverer boys was one Æneas Conneally, who was something +more than clever. He was also religious in an intense and enthusiastic +manner, which puzzled his teachers while it pleased them. His ancestors +had lived for generations on a seaboard farm, watered by salt rain, +swept by misty storms. The famine and the fever that followed it left +him fatherless and brotherless. The emigration schemes robbed him and +his mother of their surviving relations. The mission school and the +missionary’s charity effected the half conversion of the mother and a +whole-hearted acceptance of the new faith on the part of Æneas. Unlike +most of his fellows in the college classrooms, he refused to regard an +English curacy as the goal of his ambition. It seemed to him that his +conversion ought not to end in his parading the streets of Liverpool in +a black coat and a white tie. He wanted to return to his people and tell +them in their own tongue the Gospel which he had found so beautiful. + +The London committee meditated on his request, and before they arrived +at a conclusion his mother died, having at the last moment made a +tardy submission to the Church she had denied. Her apostasy--so the +missionaries called it--confirmed the resolution of her son, and the +committee at length agreed to allow him to return to his native village +as the first Rector of the newly-created parish of Carrowkeel. He was +provided with all that seemed necessary to insure the success of +his work. They built him a gray house, low and strong, for it had to +withstand the gales which swept in from the Atlantic. They bought him +a field where a cow could graze, and an acre of bog to cut turf from. A +church was built for him, gray and strong, like his house. It was fitted +with comfortable pews, a pulpit, a reading-desk, and a movable table of +wood decently covered with a crimson cloth. Beyond the church stood the +school he had attended as a boy, whitewashed without and draped inside +with maps and illuminated texts. A salary, not princely but sufficient, +was voted to Mr. Conneally, and he was given authority over a +Scripture-reader and a schoolmaster. The whole group of mission +buildings--the rectory, the church, and the school--stood, like types +of the uncompromising spirit of Protestantism, upon the bare hillside, +swept by every storm, battered by the Atlantic spray. Below them +Carrowkeel, the village, cowered in such shelter as the sandhills +afforded. Eastward lonely cottages, faintly smoking dots in the +landscape, straggled away to the rugged bases of the mountains. The +Rev. Æneas Conneally entered upon his mission enthusiastically, and +the London committee awaited results. There were scarcely any results, +certainly none that could be considered satisfactory. The day for making +conversions was past, and the tide had set decisively against the new +reformation. A national school, started by a clearsighted priest, in +spite of his Archbishop, left the mission school almost without pupils. +The Scripture-reader lost heart, and took to seeking encouragement +in the public-house. He found it, and once when exalted--he said, +spiritually--paraded the streets cursing the Virgin Mary. Worse +followed, and the committee in London dismissed the man. A diminishing +income forced on them the necessity of economy, and no successor was +appointed. For a few years Mr. Conneally laboured on. Then a sharp-eyed +inspector from London discovered that the schoolmaster took very little +trouble about teaching, but displayed great talent in prompting his +children at examinations. He, too, was dismissed, and the committee, +still bent on economy, appointed a mistress in his place. She was a +pretty girl, and after she had shivered through the stormy nights of +two winters in the lonely school-house, Mr. Conneally married her. +Afterwards the office of school-teacher was also left vacant. The +whitewashed school fell gradually into decay, and the committee effected +a further saving. + +After his marriage Mr. Conneally’s missionary enthusiasm began to flag. +His contact with womanhood humanized him. The sternness of the reformer +died in him, and his neighbours, who never could comprehend his +religion, came to understand the man. They learned to look upon him as a +friend, to seek his sympathy and help. In time they learnt to love him. + +Two years passed, and a son was born. The village people crowded upon +him with congratulations, and mothers of wide experience praised the boy +till Mrs. Conneally’s heart swelled in her with pride. He was christened +Hyacinth, after a great pioneer and leader of the mission work. The +naming was Mr. Conneally’s act of contrition for the forsaking of +his enthusiasm, his recognition of the value of a zeal which had not +flagged. Failing the attainment of greatness, the next best thing is to +dedicate a new life to a patron saint who has won the reward of those +who endure to the end. For two years more life in the glebe house was +rapturously happy. Such bliss has in it, no doubt, an element of sin, +and it is not good that it should endure. This was to be seen afterwards +in calmer times, though hardly at the moment when the break came. There +was a hope of a second child, a delightful time of expectation; then an +accident, the blighting of the hope, and in a few days the death of Mrs. +Conneally. Her husband buried her, digging the first grave in the rocky +ground that lay around the little church. + +For a time Mr. Conneally was stunned by his sorrow. He stopped working +altogether, ceased to think, even to feel. Men avoided him with +instinctive reverence at first, and afterwards with fear, as he +wandered, muttering to himself, among the sandhills and along the beach. +After a while the power of thought and a sense of the outward things of +life returned to him. He found that an aged crone from the village had +established herself in his house, and was caring for Hyacinth. He let +her stay, and according to her abilities she cooked and washed for him +and the boy, neither asking wages nor taking orders from him, until she +died. + +Hyacinth grew and throve amazingly. From morning till evening he was in +the village, among the boats beside the little pier, or in the fields, +when the men worked there. Everyone petted and loved him, from Father +Moran, the priest who had started the national school, down to old +Shamus, the crippled singer of interminable Irish songs and teller of +heroic legends of the past. It was when he heard the boy repeat a story +of Finn MacCool to the old crone in the kitchen that Mr. Conneally awoke +to the idea that he must educate his son. He began, naturally enough, +with Irish, for it was Irish, and not English, that Hyacinth spoke +fluently. + +Afterwards the English alphabet followed, though not for the sake of +reading books, for except the Bible and the Prayer-Book Hyacinth was +taught to read no English books. He learned Latin after a fashion, not +with nice attention to complexities of syntax, but as a language meant +to be used, read, and even spoken now and then to Father Moran. + +Meanwhile the passage of the years brought changes to Carrowkeel. +The Admiralty established a coastguard station near the village, and +arranged, for the greater security of the Empire, that men in blue-serge +clothes should take it in turns to look at the Atlantic through a +telescope. Then the unquiet spirit of the Congested Districts Board +possessed the place for a while. A young engineer designed a new pier to +shelter fishing-boats. He galvanized the people into unwonted activity, +and, though sceptical of good results, they earned a weekly wage by +building it. Boats came, great able boats, which fought the Atlantic, +and the old curraghs were left to blister in the sun far up on the +beach. Instructors from the Isle of Man taught new ways of catching +mackerel. Green patches between the cottages and the sea, once the +playground of pigs and children, or the marine parade of solemn lines +of geese, were spread with brown nets. On May mornings, if the take was +good, long lines of carts rattled down the road carrying the fish to +the railway at Clifden, and the place bore for a while the appearance +of vitality. A vagrant Englishman discovered that lobsters could be had +almost for the asking in Carrowkeel. The commercial instincts of his +race were aroused in him. + +He established a trade between the villagers and the fishmongers of +Manchester. The price of lobsters rose to the unprecedented figure of +four shillings a dozen, and it was supposed that even so the promoter of +the scheme secured a profit. + +To Æneas Conneally, growing quietly old, the changes meant very little. +The coastguards, being bound by one of the articles of the British +Constitution, came to church on Sunday mornings with exemplary +regularity, and each man at fixed intervals brought a baby to be +christened and a woman to be churched. Otherwise they hardly affected +Mr. Conneally’s life. The great officials who visited Carrowkeel to +survey the benignant activities of the Congested Districts Board +were men whose magnificent intellectual powers raised them above any +recognised form of Christianity. Neither Father Moran’s ministrations +nor Mr. Conneally’s appealed to them. + +The London committee of the mission to Roman Catholics made no inquiry +about what was going on at Carrowkeel. They asked for no statistics, +expected no results, but signed quarterly cheques for Mr. Conneally, +presuming, one may suppose, that if he had ceased to exist they would +somehow have heard of it. + +By far the most important event for Hyacinth and his father was the +death of their old housekeeper. In the changed state of society in +Carrowkeel it was found impossible to secure the services of another. +Hyacinth, at this time about fifteen years old, took to the housework +without feeling that he was doing anything strange or unmanly. He was +familiar with the position of ‘bachelor boys’ who, having grown elderly +under the care of a mother, preferred afterwards the toil of their own +kitchens to the uncertain issue of marrying a girl to ‘do for them.’ +Life under their altered circumstances was simplified. It seemed +unnecessary to carry a meal from the room it was cooked in to another +for the purpose of eating it, so the front rooms of the house, with +their tattered furniture, were left to moulder quietly in the persistent +damp. One door was felt to be sufficient for the ingress and egress +of two people from a house. The kitchen door, being at the back of the +house, was oftenest the sheltered one, so the front door was bolted, and +the grass grew up to it. One by one, as Hyacinth’s education required, +the Latin and Greek books were removed from the forsaken study, and +took their places among the diminishing array of plates and cups on the +kitchen dresser. The spreading and removal of a tablecloth for every +meal came to be regarded as foolish toil. When room was required on the +table for plates, the books and papers were swept on one side. A pile of +potatoes, and the pan, with bacon or a fish perhaps still frizzling in +it, was set in the place left vacant. + +Morning and evening Æneas Conneally expected his son to join with him in +prayer. The two knelt together on the earthen floor facing the window, +while the old man meditated aloud on Divine things. There were breaks in +his speech and long silences, so that sometimes it was hard to tell +when his prayer had really ended. These devotions formed a part of +his father’s life into which Hyacinth never really entered at all. He +neither rebelled nor mocked. He simply remained outside. So when his +father wandered off to solitary places on the seashore, and sat gazing +into the sunset or a gathering storm, Hyacinth neither followed nor +questioned him. Sometimes on winter nights when the wind howled more +fiercely than usual round the house, the old man would close the book +they read together, and repeat aloud long passages from the Apocalypse. +His voice, weak and wavering at first, would gather strength as he +proceeded, and the young man listened, stirred to vague emotion over the +fall of Babylon the Great. + +For the most part Hyacinth’s time was his own. Even the hours of study +were uncertain. He read when he liked, and his father seemed content +with long days of idleness followed by others of application. It was, +indeed, only owing to his love of what he read that the boy learned at +all. Often while he tramped from his home to the village at midday his +heart was hot within him with some great thought which had sprung to him +from a hastily construed chorus of Euripides. Sometimes he startled the +fishermen when he went with them at night by chanting Homer’s rolling +hexameters through the darkness while the boat lay waiting, borne +gunwale down to the black water with the drag of the net that had been +shot. + +There was a tacit understanding that Hyacinth, like his father, was +to take Holy Orders. He matriculated in Trinity College when he was +eighteen, and, as is often done by poorer students, remained at home, +merely passing the required examinations, until he took his degree, +and the time came for his entering the divinity school. Then it became +necessary for him to reside in Dublin, and the first great change in his +life took place. + +The night before he left home he and his father sat together in the +kitchen after they had finished their evening meal. For a long time +neither of them spoke. Hyacinth held a book in his hand, but scarcely +attempted to read it. His thoughts wandered from hopeful expectation of +what the future was to bring him and the new life was to mean, to vague +regrets, weighted with misgivings, which would take no certain shape. +There crowded upon him recollections of busy autumn days when the grain +harvest overtook the belated hay-making, and men toiled till late in +the fields; of long nights in the springtime when he tugged at the +fishing-nets, and felt the mackerel slipping and flapping past his +feet in the darkness; of the longer winter nights when he joined the +gatherings of the boys and girls to dance jigs and reels on the earthen +floor of some kitchen. It seemed now that all this was past and over for +him. Holiday time would bring him back to Carrowkeel, but would it be +the same? Would he be the same? + +He looked at his father, half hoping for sympathy; but the old man sat +gazing--it seemed to Hyacinth stupidly--into the fire. He wondered if +his father had forgotten that this was their last evening together. Then +suddenly, without raising his eyes, the old man began to speak, and it +appeared that he, too, was thinking of the change. + +‘I do not know, my son, what they will teach you in their school of +divinity. I have long ago forgotten all I learned there, and I have not +missed the knowledge. It does not seem to me now that what they taught +me has been of any help in getting to know Him.’ + +He paused for a long time. Hyacinth was familiar enough with his +father’s ways of speech to know that the emphatic ‘Him’ meant the God +whom he worshipped. + +‘There is, I am sure, only one way in which we can become His friends. +_These are they which have come out of great tribulation!_ You remember +that, Hyacinth? That is the only way. You may be taught truths about +Him, but they matter very little. You have already great thoughts, +burning thoughts, but they will not of themselves bring you to Him. The +other way is the only way. Shall I wish it for you, my son? Shall I give +it to you for my blessing? May great tribulation come upon you in your +life! _Great tribulation!_ See how weak my faith is even now at the very +end. I cannot give you this blessing, although I know very well that it +is the only way. I know this, because I have been along this way myself, +and it has led me to Him.’ + +Again he paused. It did not seem to Hyacinth to be possible to say +anything. He was not sure in his heart that the friendship of the Man of +Sorrows was so well worth having that he would be content to pay for it +by accepting such a benediction from his father. + +‘I shall do this for you, Hyacinth: I shall pray that when the choice is +given you, the great choice between what is easy and what is hard, the +right decision may be made for you. I do not know in what form it will +come. Perhaps it will be as it was with me. He made the choice for me, +for indeed I could not have chosen for myself. He set my feet upon the +narrow way, forced me along it for a while, and now at the end I see His +face.’ + +Hyacinth had heard enough of the brief bliss of his father’s married +life to understand. He caught for the first time a glimpse of the +meaning of the solitary life, the long prayers, and the meditations. He +was profoundly moved, but it did not even then seem to him desirable to +choose such a way, or to have such attainment thrust on him. + +Next morning the autumn sunlight chased the recollection of his emotion +from his mind. The fishermen stopped his car as he drove through the +street to shake hands with him. Their wives shouted familiar blessings +from the cabin doors. Father Moran came bare-headed to the gate of his +presbytery garden and waved a farewell. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +There is that about the material fabric, the actual stone and mortar, of +Trinity College, Dublin, which makes a vivid appeal to the imagination +of the common man. The cultured sentimentalist will not indeed be +able to lave his soul in tepid emotion while he walks through these +quadrangles, as he may among the cloisters and chapels of the Oxford +colleges. The amateur of the past cannot here stand at gaze before any +single building as he does before the weather-beaten front of Oriel, +tracing in imagination the footsteps of Newman or Arnold. Yet to the +average man, and far more to the newly emancipated schoolboy, Trinity +College, Dublin, makes an appeal which can hardly be ignored. In Oxford +and Cambridge town and University are mixed together; shops jostle and +elbow colleges in the streets. In Dublin a man leaves the city behind +him when he enters the college, passes completely out of the atmosphere +of the University when he steps on to the pavement. The physical +contrast is striking enough, appealing to the ear and the eye. The +rattle of the traffic, the jangling of cart bells, the inarticulate +babel of voices, suddenly cease when the archway of the great +entrance-gate is passed. + +An immense silence takes their place. There is no longer any need for +watchfulness, nor risk of being hustled by the hurrying crowds. +Instead of footway and street crossing there are broad walks, untrodden +stretches of smooth grass. The heavy campanile is in front, and heights +of gray building frown down on each side. It needs no education, not +even any imagination, to appreciate the change. It is not necessary to +know that great scholars inhabited the place, to recall any name or +any man’s career. The appeal is not to a recollected impression of the +Middle Ages, or indeed of any past, remote or near. It is the spirit of +scholarship itself, abstract, intangible, which creates this atmosphere. +Knowledge, a severe goddess, awes while she beckons. + +Hyacinth Conneally had submitted himself to such emotions time after +time when, fresh from the wilds of Connemara, he made his way to the +examination-hall, an outside student in a borrowed cap and gown. Now, +when for the first time he entered into the actual life of the college, +could look up at windows of rooms that were his own, and reckon on his +privilege of fingering tomes from the shelves of the huge library, the +spirit of the place awed him anew. He neither analyzed nor attempted +an expression of what he felt, but his first night within the walls was +restless because of the inspiration which filled him. + +Yet this college does not fail to make an appeal also to the thinking +mind, only it is a strange appeal, tending to sadness. The sudden +silence after the tumult of the streets has come for some minds to +be the symbol of a divorce between the knowledge within and the life +without. And this is not the separation which must always exist between +thought and action, the gulf fixed between the student and the merchant. +It is a real divorce between the nation and the University, between +the two kinds of life which ought, like man and woman, to complete each +other through their very diversity, but here have gone hopelessly apart. +Never once through all the centuries of Ireland’s struggle to express +herself has the University felt the throb of her life. It is true +that Ireland’s greatest patriots, from Swift to Davis, have been her +children; but she has never understood their spirit, never looked on +them as anything but strangers to her family. They have been to her +stray robber wasps, to be driven from the hive; while to the others they +have seemed cygnets among her duckling brood. It is very wonderful that +the University alone has been able to resist the glamour of Ireland’s +past, and has failed to admire the persistency of her nationality. +There has surely been enough in every century that has passed since the +college was founded to win it over from alien thought and the ideals of +the foreigner. + +All this Hyacinth came to feel afterwards, and learnt in bitterness of +spirit to be angry at the University’s isolation from Irish life. At +first quite other thoughts crowded upon his mind. He felt a rebellion +against his father’s estimate of what he was to learn. It seemed to him +that he had come into vital touch with the greatest life of all. He was +to join the ranks of those who besieged the ears of God for knowledge, +and left behind them to successors yet unborn great traditions of the +enigmas they had guessed. In entering upon the study of theology he +seemed to become a soldier in the sacred band, the élite of the army +which won and guarded truth. Already he was convinced that there could +be no greater science than the Divine one, no more inspiring moment in +life than this one when he took his first step towards the knowledge of +God. + +He crossed the quadrangle with his mind full of such thoughts, +and joined a group of students round the door of one of the +examination-halls. It did not shock his sense of fitness that some of +his fellow-students in the great science wore shabby clothes, or that +others scorned the use of a razor. Bred as he had been at home, he felt +no incongruity between dirty collars and the study of divinity. It +was not until he caught scraps of conversation that he experienced an +awakening from his dream. One eager group surrounded a foreseeing youth +who had written the dates of the first four General Councils of the +Church upon his shirt-cuff. + +‘Read them out, like a good man,’ said one. + +‘Hold on a minute,’ said another, ‘till I see if I have got them right. +I ground them up specially this morning. Nicæa, 318--no, hang it! that’s +the number of Bishops who were present; 325 was the date, wasn’t it?’ + +‘What was the row about at Chalcedon?’ asked a tall, pale youth. ‘Didn’t +some monk or other go for Cyril of Alexandria?’ + +‘You’ll be stuck anyhow, Tommy,’ said a neat, dapper little man with a +very ragged gown. + +Hyacinth slipped past the group, and approached two better dressed +students who stood apart from the others. + +‘Is this,’ he asked, ‘where the entrance examination to the divinity +school is to be held?’ + +For answer he received a curt ‘Yes’ and a stare. Apparently his suit of +brown Connemara homespun did not commend him to these aristocrats. They +turned their backs on him, and resumed their conversation. + +‘She was walking up and down the pier listening to the band with two +of the rankest outsiders you ever set eyes on--medicals out of Paddy +Dunn’s. Of course I could do nothing else but break it off.’ + +‘Oh, you were engaged to her, then? I didn’t know.’ + +‘Well, I was and I wasn’t. Anyhow, I thought it better to have a clear +understanding. She came up to me outside the door of Patrick’s on Sunday +afternoon just as if nothing had happened. “Hullo, Bob,” says she; +“I haven’t seen you for ages.” “My name,” said I, “is Mr. Banks”--just +like that, as cool as you please. I could see she felt it. “I’ve called +you Bob,” says she, very red in the face, “and you’ve called me Maimie +ever since we went to Sunday-school together, and I’m not going to begin +calling you Mr. Banks now, my boy-o! so don’t you think it!”’ + +It was a relief to Hyacinth when he was tapped on the arm by a boy with +a very pimply face, who thrust a paper into his hand, and distracted +his attention from the final discomfiture of Maimie, which Mr. Banks was +recounting in a clear, high-pitched voice, as if he wished everyone in +the neighbourhood to hear it. + +‘I hope you’ll come,’ said the boy. + +‘Where?’ + +‘It’s all in the paper. The students’ prayer-meeting, held every +Wednesday morning at nine o’clock sharp. Special meeting to-morrow.’ + +Hyacinth was bewildered. There was something quite unfamiliar in this +prompt and business-like advertisement of prayer. The student with the +papers began to be doubtful of him. + +‘You’re not High Church, are you?’ he asked. ‘We’re not. We don’t have +printed offices, with verses and responds, and that sort of thing. We +have extempore prayer by members of the union.’ + +‘No; I’m not High Church,’ said Hyacinth--‘at least, I think not. I +don’t really know much about these things. I’ll be very glad to go to +your meeting.’ + +‘That’s right,’ said the other. ‘All are welcome. There will be special +prayer to-morrow for the success of the British arms. I suppose you +heard that old Kruger has sent an ultimatum. There will be war at once.’ + +There was a sudden movement among the students; gowns were pulled +straight and caps adjusted. + +‘Here he comes,’ said someone. + +Dr. Henry, the divinity professor, crossed the square rapidly. He was a +middle-aged man, stout, almost ponderous, in figure; but he held himself +rigidly upright, and walked fast across the square. The extreme neatness +of his clothes contrasted with the prevailing shabbiness of the students +and the assistant lecturers who followed him. Yet he did not seem to be +a man who gave to externals more than their due share of consideration. +His broad forehead gave promise of great intellectual power, a promise +half belied by the narrow gray eyes beneath it. These were eyes which +might see keenly, and would certainly see things just as they are, +though they were not likely to catch any glimpse of that greater +world where objects cannot be focussed sharply. Yet in them, an odd +contradiction, there lurked a possibility of humorous twinkling. The +man was capable perhaps of the broad tolerance of the great humorist, +certainly of very acute perception of life’s minor incongruities. His +thin lips were habitually pressed together, giving a suggestion of +strength to the set of his mouth. A man with such a mouth can think and +act, but not feel either passionately or enduringly. He will direct men +because he knows his own mind, but is not likely to sway them because +he will always be master of himself, and will not become enslaved to +any great enthusiasm. The students trooped into the hall, and the +examination began. The assistant lecturers helped in the work. Each +student was called up in turn, asked a few questions, and given a +portion of the Greek Testament to translate. For the most part their +capacities were known beforehand. There were some who had won honours +in their University course before entering the divinity school. For +them the examiners were all smiles, and the business of the day was +understood to be perfunctory. Others were recognised as mere pass men, +whom it was necessary to spur to some exertion. A few, like Hyacinth, +were unknown. These were the poorer students who had not been able to +afford to reside at the University sooner than was absolutely necessary. +Their knowledge, generally scanty, was received by the examiners with +undisguised contempt. It fell to Hyacinth’s lot to present himself to +Dr. Henry. He did so tremulously. + +The professor inquired his name, and looked him over coldly. + +‘Read for me,’ he said, handing him a Greek Testament. The passage +marked was St. Paul’s great description of charity. It was very familiar +to Hyacinth, and he read it with a serious feeling for the words. Dr. +Henry, who at first had occupied himself with some figures on a sheet of +paper, looked up and listened attentively. + +‘Where were you at school,’ he asked. ‘Who taught you Greek?’ + +‘My father taught me, sir.’ + +‘Ah! You have got a very peculiar pronunciation, and you’ve made an +extraordinary number of mistakes in accentuation and quantity, but +you’ve read as if St. Paul meant something. Now translate.’ + +‘You have given me,’ he said, when Hyacinth had finished, ‘the +Authorized Version word for word. Can you do no better than that?’ + +‘I can do it differently,’ said Hyacinth, ‘not better.’ + +‘Do you know any Greek outside of the New Testament?’ + +Hyacinth repeated a few lines from Homer. + +‘That book of the “Odyssey” is not in the college course,’ said Dr. +Henry. ‘How did you come to read it?’ + +Hyacinth had no explanation to give. He had read the book, it seemed, +without being forced, and without hope of getting a prize. He recited it +as if he liked it. The remainder of the examination disclosed the fact +that he was lamentably deficient in the rudiments of Greek grammar, and +had the very vaguest ideas of the history of the Church. + +Afterwards Professor Henry discussed the new class with his assistants +as they crossed the square together. + +‘The usual lot,’ said Dr. Spenser--‘half a dozen scholars, perhaps one +man among them with real brains. The rest are either idlers or, what is +worse, duffers.’ + +‘I hit on one man with brains,’ said Dr. Henry. + +‘Oh! Thompson, I suppose. I saw that you took him. He did well in his +degree exam.’ + +‘No,’ said Dr. Henry; ‘the man I mean has more brains than Thompson. +He’s a man I never heard of before. His name is Conneally. He looks +as if he came up from the wilds somewhere. He has hands like an +agricultural labourer, and a brogue that I fancy comes from Galway. +But he’s a man to keep an eye on. He may do something by-and-by if he +doesn’t go off the lines. We must try and lick him into shape a bit.’ + +Hyacinth Conneally knew extremely little about the politics, foreign or +domestic, of the English nation. His father neither read newspapers nor +cared to discuss such rumours of the doings of Governments as happened +to reach Carrowkeel. On the other hand, he knew a good deal about +the history of Ireland, and the English were still for him the ‘new +foreigners’ whom Keating describes. His intercourse with the fishermen +and peasants of the Galway seaboard had intensified his vague dislike +of the series of oscillations between bullying and bribery which make up +the story of England’s latest attempts to govern Ireland. Without in the +least understanding the reasons for the war in South Africa, he felt +a strong sympathy with the Boers. To him they seemed a small people +doomed, if they failed to defend themselves, to something like the +treatment which Ireland had received. + +It was therefore with surprise, almost with horror, that he listened for +the first time to the superlative Imperialism of the Protestant Unionist +party when he attended the prayer-meeting to which he had been invited. +The room was well filled with students, who joined heartily in the +singing of ‘Onward, Christian soldiers,’ a hymn selected as appropriate +for the occasion. An address by the chairman, a Dublin clergyman, +followed. According to this gentleman the Boers were a psalm-singing +but hypocritical nation addicted to slave-driving. England, on the +other hand, was the pioneer of civilization, and the nursing-mother of +missionary enterprise. It was therefore clear that all good Christians +ought to pray for the success of the British arms. The speech bewildered +rather than irritated Hyacinth. The mind gasps for a time when immersed +suddenly in an entirely new view of things, and requires time to adjust +itself for pleasure or revolt, just as the body does when plunged into +cold water. It had never previously occurred to him that an Irishman +could regard England as anything but a pirate. Anger rapidly succeeded +his surprise while he listened to the prayers which followed. It was +apparently open to any student present to give utterance, as occasion +offered, to his desires, and a large number of young men availed +themselves of the opportunity. Some spoke briefly and haltingly, some +laboriously attempted to adapt the phraseology of the Prayer-Book to the +sentiment of the moment, a few had the gift of rapid and even eloquent +supplication. These last were the hardest to endure. They prefaced their +requests with fantastic eulogies of England’s righteousness, designed +apparently for the edification of the audience present in the flesh, for +they invariably began by assuring the Almighty that He was well aware +of the facts, and generally apologized to Him for recapitulating +them. Hyacinth’s anger increased as he heard the fervent groans which +expressed the unanimous conviction of the justice of the petitions. No +one seemed to think it possible that the right could be on the other +side. + +When the meeting was over, the secretary, whose name, it appeared, was +Mackenzie, greeted Hyacinth warmly. + +‘Glad to have you with us,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll always come. I shall +be delighted to propose you as a member of the union. Subscription +one shilling, to defray necessary expenses. In any case, whether you +subscribe or not, we shall be glad to have you with us.’ + +‘I shall never come again,’ said Hyacinth. + +Mackenzie drew back, astonished. + +‘Why not? Didn’t you like the meeting? I thought it was capital--so +informal and hearty. Didn’t you think it was hearty? But perhaps you are +High Church. Are you?’ + +Hyacinth remembered that this identical question had been put to him the +day before by the pimply-faced boy who distributed leaflets. He wondered +vaguely at the importance which attached to the nickname. + +‘I am not sure,’ he said, ‘that I quite know what you mean. You see, I +have only just entered the divinity school, and I hardly know anything +about theology. What is a High Churchman?’ + +‘Oh, it doesn’t require any theology to know that. It’s the simplest +thing in the world. A High Churchman is--well, of course, a High +Churchman sings Gregorian chants, you know, and puts flowers on +the altar. There’s more than that, of course. In fact, a High +Churchman------’ He paused and then added with an air of victorious +conviction: ‘But anyhow if you were High Church you would be sure to +know it.’ + +‘Ah, well,’ said Hyacinth, turning to leave the room, ‘I don’t know +anything about it, so I suppose I’m not High Church.’ + +Mackenzie, however, was not going to allow him to escape so easily. + +‘Hold on a minute. If you’re not High Church why won’t you come to our +meetings?’ + +‘Because I can’t join in your prayers when I am not at all sure that +England ought to win.’ + +‘Good Lord!’ said Mackenzie. It is possible to startle even the +secretary of a prayer union into mild profanity. ‘You don’t mean to tell +me you are a Pro-Boer, and you a divinity student?’ + +It had not hitherto struck Hyacinth that it was impossible to combine a +sufficient orthodoxy with a doubt about the invariable righteousness of +England’s quarrels. Afterwards he came to understand the matter better. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Mackenzie was not at heart an ill-natured man, and he would have +repudiated with indignation the charge of being a mischief-maker. He +felt after his conversation with Hyacinth much as most men would if they +discovered an unsuspected case of small-pox among their acquaintances. +His first duty was to warn the society in which he moved of the +existence of a dangerous man, a violent and wicked rebel. He repeated +a slightly exaggerated version of what Hyacinth had said to everyone +he met. The pleasurable sense of personal importance which comes with +having a story to tell grew upon him, and he spent the greater part +of the day in seeking out fresh confidants to swell the chorus of his +commination. + +In England at the time public opinion was roused to a fever heat of +patriotic enthusiasm, and the Irish Protestant Unionists were eager to +outdo even the music-halls in Imperialist sentiment, the students of +Trinity College being then, as ever, the ‘death or glory’ boys of +Irish loyalty. It is easy to imagine how Hyacinth’s name was whispered +shudderingly in the reading-room of the library, how his sentiments were +anathematized in the dining-hall at commons, how plots were hatched for +the chastisement of his iniquity over the fire in the evenings, when +pipes were lit and tea was brewed. + +At the end of the week Hyacinth was in an exceedingly uncomfortable +position. Outside the lecture-rooms nobody would speak to him. Inside he +found himself the solitary occupant of the bench he sat on--a position +of comparative physical comfort, for the other seats were crowded, but +not otherwise desirable. A great English poet had just composed a poem, +which a musician, no doubt equally eminent, had set to a noble tune. +It embodied an appeal for funds for purposes not clearly specified, and +hazarded the experiment of rhyming ‘cook’s son’ with ‘Duke’s son,’ which +in less fervent times might have provoked the criticism of the captious. +It became the fashion in college to chant this martial ode whenever +Hyacinth was seen approaching. It was thundered out by a choir who +marched in step up and down his staircase. Bars of it were softly +hummed in his ear while he tried to note the important truths which +the lecturers impressed upon their classes. One night five musicians +relieved each other at the task of playing the tune on a concertina +outside his door. They commenced briskly at eight o’clock in the +evening, and the final sleepy version only died away at six the next +morning. + +Dr. Henry, who either did not know or chose to ignore the state of +the students’ feelings, advised Hyacinth to become a member of the +Theological Debating Society. The election to membership, he said, was +a mere form, and nobody was ever excluded. Hyacinth sent his name to +the secretary, and was blackbeaned by an overwhelming majority of the +members. Shortly afterwards the Lord-lieutenant paid a visit to the +college, and the students seized the chance of displaying their loyalty +to the Throne and Constitution. They assembled outside the library, +which the representative of Queen Victoria was inspecting under the +guidance of the Provost and two of the senior Fellows. It is the nature +of the students of Trinity College to shout while they wait for the +development of interesting events, and on this occasion even the library +walls were insufficient to exclude the noise. The excellent nobleman +inside found himself obliged to cast round for original remarks about +the manuscript of the ‘Book of Kells,’ while the air was heavy with the +verses which commemorate the departure of ‘fifty thousand fighting men’ +to Table Bay. When at length he emerged on the library steps the tune +changed, as was right and proper, to ‘God save the Queen.’ Strangely +enough, Hyacinth had never before heard the national anthem. It is not +played or sung often by the natives of Connemara, and although the ocean +certainly forms part of the British Empire, the Atlantic waves have +not yet learned to beat out this particular melody. So it happened +that Hyacinth, without meaning to be offensive, omitted the ceremony of +removing his hat. A neighbour, joyful at the opportunity, snatched the +offending garment, and skimmed it far over the heads of the crowd. A few +hard kicks awakened Hyacinth more effectually to a sense of his crime, +and it was with a torn coat and many bruises that he escaped in the end +to the shelter of his rooms, less inclined to be loyal than when he left +them. + +After a few weeks it became clear that the British armies in South +Africa were not going to reap that rich and unvarying crop of victories +which the valour of the soldiers and the ability of the generals +deserved. The indomitable spirit of the great nation rose to the +occasion, and the position of those who entertained doubts about the +justice of the original quarrel became more than ever unbearable. +Hyacinth took to wandering by himself through parts of the city in which +he was unlikely to meet any of his fellow-students. His soul grew bitter +within him. The course of petty persecution to which he was subjected +hardened his original sentimental sympathy with the Boer cause into a +clearly defined hatred of everything English. When he got clear of the +college and the hateful sound of the ‘cook’s son, Duke’s son’ tune, he +tramped along, gloating quietly over the news of the latest ‘regrettable +incident.’ + +He was very lonely and friendless, for not even the discomfiture of his +enemies can make up to a young man for the want of a friend to speak to. +An inexpressible longing for home came over him. There was a shop in a +by-street which exposed photographs of Galway scenery in its windows for +a time. Hyacinth used to go day by day to gaze at them. The modest front +of the Gaelic League Hyce was another haunt of his. He used to stand +Debating his eyes on the Irish titles of the books in the window, and +repeating the words he read aloud to himself until the passers-by turned +to look at him. Once he entered a low-browed, dingy shop merely because +the owner’s name was posted over the door in Gaelic characters. It was +one of those shops to be found in the back streets of most large towns +which devote themselves to a composite business, displaying newspapers, +apples, tobacco, and sweets for sale. The afternoon light, already +growing feeble in the open air, had almost deserted the interior of +the shop. At first Hyacinth saw nothing but an untidy red-haired +girl reading in a corner by the light of a candle. He asked her for +cigarettes. She rose, and laid her book and the candle on the counter. +It was one of O’Growney’s Irish primers, dirty and pencilled. Hyacinth’s +heart warmed to her at once. Was she not trying to learn the dear Irish +which the barefooted girls far away at home shouted to each other as +they dragged the seaweed up from the shore? Then from the far end of the +shop he heard a man’s voice speaking Irish. It was not the soft liquid +tongue of the Connaught peasants, but a language more regular and +formal. The man spoke it as if it were a language he had learned, +comparatively slowly and with effort. Yet the sound of it seemed to +Hyacinth one of the sweetest things he had ever heard. Not even the +shrinking self-distrust which he had been taught by repeated snubbings +and protracted ostracism could prevent him from making himself known to +this stranger. + +‘The blessing of God upon Ireland!’ he said. + +There was not a moment’s hesitation on the part of the stranger. The +sound of the Gaelic was enough for him. He stretched out both hands to +Hyacinth. + +‘Is it that you also are one of us--one of the Gaels?’ he asked. +Hyacinth seized the outstretched hands and held them tight. The feeling +of offered friendship and companionship warmed him with a sudden glow. +He felt that his eyes were filling with tears, and that his voice would +break if he tried to speak, but he did not care at all. He poured out a +long Gaelic greeting, scarcely knowing what he said. Perhaps neither +the man whose hands he held nor the owner of the shop behind the counter +fully understood him, but they guessed at his feelings. + +‘Is it that you are a stranger here and lonely? Where is your home? What +name is there on you?’ + +‘Maiseadh, I am a stranger indeed and lonely too,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘You are a stranger no longer, then. We are all of us friends with each +other. You speak our own dear tongue, and that is enough to make us +friends.’ + +The tobacconist, it appeared, also spoke Irish of a kind. He cast +occasional remarks into the conversation which followed, less, it seemed +to Hyacinth, with a view of giving expression to any thought than for +the sake of airing some phrases which he had somewhat inadequately +learned. Indeed, it struck Hyacinth very soon that his new friend was +getting rather out of his depth in his ‘own dear tongue.’ At last the +tobacconist said with a smile: + +‘I’m afraid we must ask Mr. Conneally--didn’t you say that Conneally was +your name?--to speak the Beurla. I’m clean beaten with the Gaelic, and +you can’t go much further yourself, Cahal. Isn’t that the truth, now.’ + +‘And small blame to me,’ said Cahal--in English, Charles--Maguire. +‘After all, what am I but a learner? And it’s clear that Mr. Conneally +has spoken it since ever he spoke at all.’ + +Hyacinth smiled and nodded. Maguire went on: + +‘What are you doing this afternoon? What do you say to coming round with +me to see Mary O’Dwyer? It’s her “at home” day, and I’m just on my way +there.’ + +‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I don’t know her. I can hardly go to her house, +can I?’ + +‘Oh, I’ll introduce you,’ said Maguire cheerfully. ‘She allows me to +bring anyone I like to see her. She likes to know anyone who loves +Ireland and speaks Gaelic. Perhaps we’ll meet Finola too; she’s often +there.’ + +‘Meet who?’ + +‘Finola. That’s what we call Miss Goold--Augusta Goold, you know. We +call her Finola because she shelters the rest of us under her wings when +the Moyle gets tempestuous. You remember the story?’ + +‘Of course I do,’ said Hyacinth, who had learnt the tale of Lir’s +daughter as other children do Jack the Giant-Killer. ‘And who is Miss +O’Dwyer?’ + +‘Oh, she writes verses. Surely you know them?’ + +Hyacinth shook his head. + +‘What a pity! We all admire them immensely. She has something nearly +every week in the _Croppy_. She has just brought out a volume of lyrics. +Her brother worked the publishing of it in New York. He is mixed up with +literary people there. You must have heard of him at all events. He’s +Patrick O’Dwyer, one of the few who stood by O’Neill when he fought the +priests. He gave up the Parliamentary people after that. No honest man +could do anything else.’ + +He conducted Hyacinth to one of the old squares on the north side of the +city. When the tide of fashion set southwards, spreading terraces and +villas from Leeson Street to Killiney, it left behind some of the finest +houses in Dublin. Nowadays for a comparatively low rent it is possible +to live in a splendid house if you do not aspire to the glory of a smart +address. Miss O’Dwyer’s house, for instance, boasted a spacious hall and +lofty sitting-rooms, with impressive ceilings and handsome fireplaces; +yet she paid for it little more than half the rent which a cramped villa +in Clyde Road would have cost her. Even so, it was somewhat of a mystery +to her friends how Miss O’Dwyer managed to live there. A solicitor who +had his offices on the ground-floor probably paid the rent of the whole +house; but the profits of verse-making are small, and a poetess, like +meaner women, requires food, clothes, and fire. Indeed, Miss O’Dwyer, +no longer ‘M. O’D.,’ whose verses adorned the _Croppy_, but ‘Miranda,’ +served an English paper as Irish correspondent. It was a pity that a +pen certainly capable of better things should have been employed +in describing the newest costume of the Lord Lieutenant’s wife at +Punchestown, or the confection of pale-blue tulle which, draped round +Mrs. Chesney, adorned a Castle ball. Miss O’Dwyer herself was heartily +ashamed of the work, but it was, or appeared to her to be, necessary to +live, and even with the aid of occasional remittances from Patrick in +New York, she could scarcely have afforded her friends a cup of tea +without the guineas earned by torturing the English language in a +weekly chronicle of Irish society’s clothes. Even with the help of such +earnings, poverty was for ever tapping her on the shoulder, and no one +except Mary herself and her one maid-servant knew how carefully fire +and light had to be economized in the splendid rooms where an extinct +aristocracy had held revels a century before. + +Hyacinth and his friend advanced past the solicitor’s doors, and up +the broad staircase as far as the drawing-room. For a time they got no +further than the threshold. The opening of the door was greeted with a +long-drawn and emphatic ‘Hush!’ from the company within. Maguire laid +his hand on Hyacinth’s arm, and the two stood still looking into the +room. What was left of the feeble autumn twilight was almost excluded by +half-drawn curtains. No lamp was lit, and the fire cast only fitful rays +here and there through the room. It was with difficulty that Hyacinth +discerned figures in a semicircle, and a slim woman in a white dress +standing apart from the others near the fire. Then he heard a voice, +a singularly sweet voice, as it seemed to him, reciting with steady +emphasis on the syllables which marked the rhythm of the poem: + + ‘Out there in the West, where the heavy gray clouds are + insistent, + Where the sky stoops to gather the earth into mournful + embraces, + Where the country lies saturate, sodden, round saturate + hamlets-- + + ‘Out there in the sunset where rages and surges Atlantic, + And the salt is commingled with rain over desolate beaches, + Thy heart, O beloved, is still beating--fitfully, feebly. + + ‘Is beating--ah! not as it beat in the squadrons of Sarafield, + Exultantly, joyously, gladly, expectant of battle, + With throbs like the notes of the drums when men gather for + fighting. + + ‘Beats still; but, ah! not as it beat in the latest Fitzgerald, + Nobly devote to his race’s most noble tradition; + Or in Emmet or Davis, or, last on their list, in O’Brien. + + ‘Beats fitfully, feebly. O desolate mother! O Erin! + When shall the pulse of thy life, which but flutters in + Connaucht, + Throb through thy meadows and boglands, and mountains and + cities?’ + +A subdued murmur of applause greeted the close of the recitation, and +praise more sincere than that with which politeness generally greets the +drawing-room performances of minor poets. Hyacinth joined in neither. +It seemed to him that the verses were too beautiful to speak about, so +sacred that praise was a kind of sacrilege. Perhaps some excuse may be +found for his emotion in the fact that for weeks he had heard no poetry +except the ode about ‘wiping something off a slate.’ The violence of the +contrast benumbed his critical faculty. So a man who was obliged to gaze +for a long time at the new churches erected in Belfast might afterwards +catch himself in the act of admiring the houses which the Congested +Districts Board builds in Connaught. + +‘I am afraid I must have bored you.’ It was Miss O’Dwyer who greeted +him. ‘I didn’t see you and Mr. Maguire come in until I had commenced my +poor little poem. I ought to have given you some tea before I inflicted +it on you.’ + +‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it was beautiful. Is it really your own? Did you +write it?’ + +Miss O’Dwyer flushed. The vehement sincerity of his tone embarrassed +her, though she was accustomed to praise. + +‘You are very kind,’ she said. ‘All my friends here are far too kind to +me. But come now, I must give you some tea.’ + +The tea was nearly stone cold and weak with frequent waterings. The +saucer and spoon, possibly even the cup, had been used by someone else +before. Mr. Maguire secured for himself the last remaining morsel of +cake, leaving Hyacinth the choice between a gingerbread biscuit and +a torn slice of bread and butter. None of these things appeared to +embarrass Miss O’Dwyer. They did not matter in the least to Hyacinth. + +‘Do you know the West well?’ he asked. + +‘Indeed, I do not. I’ve always longed to go and spend a whole long +summer there, but I’ve never had the chance.’ + +‘Then how did you know it was like that? I mean, how did you catch the +spirit of it in your poem?’ + +‘Did I?’ she said. ‘I am so glad. But I don’t deserve any credit for +it. I wrote those verses after I had been looking at one of Jim Tynan’s +pictures. You know them, of course? No? Oh, but you must go and see them +at once if you love the West. And you do, don’t you?’ + +‘It is my home,’ said Hyacinth. + +When he had finished his tea she introduced him to some of the people +who were in the room. Afterwards he came to know them, but the memories +which Miss O’Dwyer’s verses called up in him made him absent and +preoccupied. He scarcely heard the names she spoke. Soon the party broke +up, and Hyacinth turned to look for Maguire. + +‘I’m afraid Mr. Maguire has gone,’ said Miss O’Dwyer. ‘He has a lecture +to attend this afternoon. You must come here again, Mr. Conneally. Come +next Wednesday--every Wednesday, if you like. We can have a talk about +the West. I shall want you to tell me all sorts of things. Perhaps +Finola will be here next week. She very often comes. I shall look +forward to introducing you to her. You are sure to admire her immensely. +We all do.’ + +‘Yes, I’ve heard of her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘Mr. Maguire told me who she +was.’ + +‘Oh, but he couldn’t have told you half. She is magnificent. All the +rest of us are only little children compared to her. Now be sure you +come and meet her.’ + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Ever since Pitt and Castlereagh perpetrated their Act of Union two +political parties have struggled together in Ireland. Both of them have +been steadily prominent, so prominent that they have sometimes attracted +the attention of the English public, and drawn to their contest a little +quite unintelligent interest. The simplest and most discernible line +of division between them is a religious one. The Protestant party has +hitherto been guided and led by the gentry. It has been steadily loyal +to England and to the English Government. It has not been greatly +concerned about Ireland or Ireland’s welfare, but has been consistently +anxious to preserve its own privileges, powers, and property. It has not +come well out of the struggle of the nineteenth century. Its Church has +been disestablished, its privileges and powers abolished, and the last +remnants of its property are being filched from it. It is a curious +piece of irony that this party should have hastened its own defeat +by the very policy adopted to secure victory. No doubt the Irish +aristocracy would have suffered less if they had been seditious instead +of loyal. The Roman Catholic party has been led by ecclesiastics, and +has always included the bulk of the people. Its leaders have not cared +for the welfare of Ireland any more than the Protestant party, but they +have always pretended that they did, being in this respect much wiser +than their opponents. They have pulled the strings of a whole series of +political movements, and made puppets dance on and off the stage as they +chose. Also they have understood how to deal with England. Unlike the +Protestant party, they have never been loyal, because they knew from the +first that England gives most to those who bully or worry her. They have +kept one object steadily in view, an object quite as selfish in reality +as that of the aristocracy--the aggrandisement of their Church. For +this they have been prepared at any time to sacrifice the interests +of Ireland, and are content at the present moment to watch the country +bleeding to death with entire complacency. The leaders of this party +enter upon the twentieth century in sight of their promised land. They +possess all the power and nearly all the wealth of Ireland. If the +Bishops can secure the continuance of English government for the next +half-century Ireland will have become the Church’s property. Her +money will go to propagating the faith. Her children will supply the +English-speaking world with a superfluity of priests and nuns. + +Outside both parties there have always been a few men united by no ties +of policy or religion, unless, as perhaps we may, we call patriotism +a kind of religion. Other lands have been loved sincerely, devotedly, +passionately, as mothers, wives, and mistresses are loved. Ireland alone +has been loved religiously, as men are taught to love God or the +saints. Her lovers have called themselves Catholic or Protestant: such +distinctions have not mattered to these men. They have scarcely ever +been able to form themselves into a party, never into a strong or a wise +party. They have been violent, desperate, frequently ridiculous, but +always sincere and unselfish. Their great weakness has lain in the fact +that they have had no consistent aim. Some of their leaders have looked +for a return to Ireland’s Constitution, and built upon the watchword of +the volunteers, ‘The King, the Lords, and the Commons of Ireland.’ Some +have dreamed of a complete independence, of an Irish republic shaping +its own world policy. Some have wholly distrusted politics, and given +their strength to the intellectual, spiritual, or material regeneration +of the people. Among these men have been found the sanest practical +reformers and the wildest revolutionary dreamers. On the outskirts of +their company have hung all sorts of people. Parliamentary politicians +have leaned towards them, and been driven straightway out of public +life. Criminals have claimed fellowship with them, and brought +discredit upon honourable men. Poets and men of letters have drawn +their inspiration from their strivings, and in return have decked their +patriotism with imperishable splendour. In the future, no doubt, +the struggle will lie between this party and the hitherto victorious +hierarchy, with England for ally, and the fight seems a wholly unequal +one. It was into an advanced and vehement group of patriots that Mary +O’Dwyer introduced Hyacinth. He became a regular reader of the _Croppy_, +and made the acquaintance of most of the contributors to its pages. He +found them clever, enthusiastic, and agreeable men and women, but, as +he was forced to admit to himself, occasionally reckless. One evening a +discussion took place in Mary O’Dwyer’s room which startled and shocked +him. Excitement ran high over the events of the war. The sympathies +of the ‘Independent Irelanders,’ as they called themselves, fiercely +assertive even in their name, were of course entirely with the Boers, +and they received every report of an English reverse with unmixed +satisfaction. + +When Hyacinth entered the room he found four people there. Mary +O’Dwyer herself was making tea at a little table near the fire. Augusta +Goold--the famous Finola--was stretched in a deep chair smoking +a cigarette. She was a remarkable woman both physically and +intellectually. It was her delight to emphasize her splendid figure +by draping it in brilliant reds and yellows. To anyone who cared to +speculate on such a subject it seemed a mystery why her clothes remained +on her when she walked. The laws of gravity seemed to demand that they +should loosen with her movements, become detached, and finally drop +down. Nothing of the sort had ever happened, so it must be presumed that +she had secret and unconventional ways of fastening them. Similarly it +was not easy to see why her hair stayed upon her head. It was arranged +upon no recognised system, and suggested that she had perfected the art, +known generally only to heroines of romances, of twisting her tresses +with a single movement into a loose knot. That she affected white frills +of immense complexity was frequently evident, owing to the difficulty +she experienced in confining her long legs to feminine attitudes. +Her complexion put it in the power of her enemies to accuse her of +familiarity with cosmetics--a slander, for she had been observed to turn +green during an attack of sea-sickness. She had great brilliant eyes, +which were capable of expressing intensity of enthusiasm or hatred, +but no one had ever seen them soften with any emotion like love. Her +attitude towards social conventions was symbolized by her clothes. In +the old days, when the houses of ‘society’ had still been open to her, +she was accustomed to challenge criticism by fondling a pet monkey +at tea-parties. Since she had lost caste by taking up the cause of +‘Independent Ireland’ the ape had been discarded, and the same result +achieved by occasional bickerings with the police. She was an able +public speaker, and could convince her audiences for a time of the +reasonableness of opinions which next morning appeared to be the outcome +of delirium. She wrote, not, like Mary O’Dwyer, verse in which any +sentiment may be excused, but incisive and vigorous prose. Occasionally +even the Castle officials got glimmerings of the meaning of one of her +articles, and suppressed the whole issue of the _Croppy_ in which it +appeared. + +Near her sat a much less remarkable person--Thomas Grealy, historian +and archaeologist. He had been engaged for many years on a history of +Ireland, but no volume of it had as yet appeared. His friends suspected +that he had got permanently stuck somewhere about the period of the +introduction of Christianity into the island. His essays, published in +the _Croppy_, dwelt with passionate regret on the departed glories +of Tara. He held strong views about the historical reality of the +Tuath-de-Danaan, and got irritated at the most casual mention of Dr. +Petrie’s theory of the round towers. He had proved that King Arthur +was an Irishman, with whose reputation Malory and Tennyson had taken +unwarrantable liberties. The name of Dante brought a smile of contempt +to his lips, for he knew that the ‘Purgatorio’ was stolen shamelessly +from the works of a monk of Cong. He nourished a secret passion for +Finola. He never ventured to declare it, but his imagination endowed +every heroine, from Queen Maev down to the foster daughter of the +Leinster farmer who married King Cormac, with Miss Goold’s figure, eyes +and hair. It was perhaps the burning of this passion which rendered him +so cadaverous that his clothes--in other respects also they looked as +if they had been bought in far-off happier days--hung round him like the +covering of a broken-ribbed umbrella. + +The fourth person present was Timothy Halloran, who hovered about Mary +O’Dwyer’s tea-table. He was what the country people call a ‘spoilt +priest.’ Destined by simple and pious parents to take Holy Orders, he +got as far as the inside of Maynooth College. While there he had kicked +a fellow-student down the whole length of a long corridor for telling +tales to the authorities. A committee of ecclesiastics considered the +case, and having come to the conclusion that he lacked vocation for +the priesthood, sent him home. Timothy was accustomed to say that his +violence might have been passed over, but that his failure to appreciate +the devotion to duty which inspired the tale-bearer marked him +decisively as unfit for ordination. He never regretted his expulsion, +although he complained bitterly that he had been nearly choked before +they cast him out. He meant, it is to be supposed, that the effort to +instil a proper reverence for dogma had almost destroyed his capacity +for thought, not that the fingers of the reverend professors had +actually closed around his windpipe. His subsequent experiences had +included a period of teaching in an English Board School, a brief, but +not wholly unsatisfactory, career as a political organizer in New +York, and a return to Ireland, where he earned a precarious living as a +journalist. + +All four greeted Hyacinth warmly as he entered the room. + +‘We were just discussing,’ said Mary O’Dwyer, ‘the failure of our +attempt to organize a field hospital and a staff of nurses for the +Boers. It is a shame to have to admit that the English garrison in +Ireland can raise thousands of pounds for their war funds, and the Irish +can’t be got to subscribe a few hundreds.’ + +‘The wealth of the country,’ said Grealy, ‘is in the hands of a +minority--the so-called Loyalists.’ + +‘Nonsense,’ said Finola sharply. ‘If you ever gave a thought to anything +more recent than the High-King’s Court at Tara you would know that the +landlords are not the wealthy part of the community any longer. There’s +many a provincial publican calling himself a Nationalist who could buy +up the nearest landlord and every Protestant in the parish along with +him. I’m a Protestant myself, born and bred among the class you speak +of, and I know.’ + +‘You’re quite right, Miss Goold,’ said Tim. ‘The people could have given +the money if they liked. I attribute the failure of the fund to the +apathy or treachery of the priests, call it which you like. There isn’t +a Protestant church in the country where the parsons don’t preach “Give +give, give” to their people Sunday after Sunday. And what’s the result? +Why, they have raised thousands of pounds.’ + +‘After the poem you published in last week’s _Croppy_,’ said Hyacinth +to Mary O’Dwyer, ‘I made sure the subscriptions would have come in. Your +appeal was one of the most beautiful things I ever read. It would have +touched the heart of a stone.’ + +‘Poetry is all well enough,’ said Tim. ‘I admire your verses, Mary, +as much as anyone, but we want a collection at every church door after +Mass. That’s what we ought to have, but it’s exactly what we won’t get, +because the priests are West Britons at heart. They would pray for the +Queen and the army to-morrow, like Cardinal Vaughan, if they weren’t +afraid.’ + +‘I believe,’ said Finola, ‘that we went the wrong way about the thing +altogether. We asked for a hospital, and we appealed to the people’s +pity for the wounded Boers. Nobody in Ireland cares a pin about +the Boers. Why on earth should we? From all I can hear they are a +narrow-minded, intolerant set of hypocrites. I’d just as soon read the +stuff some fool of an English newspaper man wrote about “our brother the +Boer” as listen to the maudlin sentiment our people talk. We don’t want +to help the Boers. We want to hurt the English.’ + +‘And you think----’ said Grealy. + +‘I think,’ went on Finola, ‘that we ought to have asked for volunteers +to go out and fight, instead of nurses to cocker up the men who are +fools enough to get themselves shot. We’d have got them.’ + +‘You would not,’ said Tim. ‘The clergy would have been dead against you. +They would have nipped the whole project in the bud without so much as +making a noise in doing it.’ + +‘That’s true,’ said Grealy. ‘Remember, Miss Goold, it was the priests +who cursed Tara, and the monks who broke the power of the Irish Kings. I +haven’t worked the thing out yet, but I mean to show----’ + +Finola interrupted the poor man ruthlessly: + +‘Let’s try it, anyway. Let’s preach a crusade.’ + +‘Not the least bit of good,’ said Tim. ‘Every blackguard in the country +is enlisted already in the Connaught Bangers or the Dublin Fusiliers, +or some confounded Militia regiment. There’s nobody left but the nice, +respectable, goody-goody boys who wouldn’t leave their mothers or miss +going to confession if you went down on your knees to them.’ + +‘Well, then, the Irish troops ought to shoot their officers, and walk +over to the Boer camp,’ said Finola savagely. + +Hyacinth half smiled at what seemed to him a monstrous jest. Then, when +he perceived that she was actually in earnest, the smile froze into a +kind of grin. His hands trembled with the violence of his indignation. + +‘It would be devilish treachery,’ he blurted out. ‘The name of Irishman +will never be disgraced by such an act.’ + +Augusta Goold flung her cigarette into the grate, and rose from her +chair. She stood over Hyacinth, her hands clenched and her bosom heaving +rapidly. Her eyes blazed down into his until their scorn cowed him. + +‘There is no treachery possible for an Irishman,’ she said, ‘except +the one of fighting for England. Any deed against England--yes, _any_ +deed--is glorious, and not shameful.’ + +Hyacinth was utterly quelled. He ventured upon no reply. Indeed, not +only did her violence render argument undesirable--and it seemed for +the moment that he would find himself in actual grips with a furious +Amazon--but her words carried with them a certain conviction. It +actually seemed to him while she spoke as if a good defence might be +made for Irish soldiers who murdered their officers and deserted to an +enemy in the field. It was not until hours afterwards, when the vivid +impression of Finola’s face had faded from his recollection, when he had +begun to forget the flash of her eyes, the poise of her figure, and the +glow of her draperies, that his moral sense was able to reassert itself. +Then he knew that she had spoken wickedly. It might be right for an +Irishman to fight against England when he could. It might be justifiable +to seize the opportunity of England’s embarrassment to make a bid for +freedom by striking a blow at the Empire. So far his conscience went +willingly, but that treachery and murder could ever be anything but +horrible he refused altogether to believe. + +Another conversation in which he took part about this time helped +Hyacinth still further to understand the position of his new friends. +Tim Halloran and he were smoking and chatting together over the fire +when Maguire joined them. + +‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Halloran. ‘You look as if you’d been +at your mother’s funeral.’ + +‘You’re not so far out in your guess,’ said Maguire grimly. ‘I spent the +morning at my sister’s wedding. Would you like a bit of the cake?’ He +produced from his pocket a paper containing crushed fragments of white +sugar and a shapeless mass of citron and currants. ‘With the compliments +of the Reverend Mother,’ he said. ‘Try a bit.’ + +‘What on earth do you mean?’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Oh, I assure you the Sisters of Pity do these things in style,’ said +Maguire. ‘It’s a pretty fancy, that of the wedding-cake, isn’t it? +But you’re a Protestant, Conneally; you don’t understand this delicate +playfulness. I was present to-day at the reception of my only sister +into the Institute of the Catholic Sisters of Pity, founded by Honoria +Kavanagh. I’ve lost Birdie Maguire, that’s all, the little girl that +used to climb on to my knee and kiss me, and instead of her there’s a +Sister Monica Mary, who will no doubt pray for my soul when she’s let.’ + +‘What was the figure in her case?’ asked Tim in a perfectly +matter-of-fact tone. + +‘Six hundred pounds,’ said Maguire. ‘It must have put the old man to the +pin of his collar to pay it. The only time he ever talked to me about +his affairs he told me he had got four hundred pounds put by for +Birdie’s fortune, and that I was to have my medical course and whatever +the old shop would fetch when he was gone. They must have put the screw +on pretty tight to make him spring the extra two hundred. I dare say I +shall suffer for it in the end. He must have borrowed the money.’ + +Hyacinth felt intensely curious about this young nun. Like most +Protestants he had grown up to regard monasticism in all its forms as +something remote, partly horrible, wholly unintelligible. + +‘Why did she do it?’ he asked. ‘What sort of a girl was she? Do you mind +telling me?’ + +‘Not in the least,’ said Maguire. ‘Only I’m not sure that I know. Three +years ago--that is, when I left home--she was the last sort of girl you +could imagine going into a convent. She was pretty, fond of nice clothes +and admiration, as keen as every girl ought to be on a dance. I never +supposed she had a thought of religion in her head--I mean, beyond the +usual confessions and attendances at Mass.’ + +‘I suppose,’ said Hyacinth, ‘your people wanted it.’ + +‘I don’t think so,’ said Maguire. ‘Perhaps my mother did. I don’t know.’ + +‘You see, Conneally,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘it is a sort of hall-mark +of respectability among people like Maguire’s to have a girl in a good +convent. A little lower down in the social scale, in the class I come +from, the boys are made priests. A doctor is a more expensive article to +manufacture, so Maguire’s father selected that line of life for him. Not +that they could have made a priest of you, Maguire, in any case. You’d +have disgraced Maynooth, as I did.’ + +‘I don’t understand,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I thought a vocation for the life +was necessary.’ + +‘Oh, so it is,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘but, you see, there’s the period of +the novitiate. Given a girl at an impressionable age, the proper convent +atmosphere, and a prize of six hundred pounds for the Order, and it +will go hard with the Reverend Mother if she can’t work the girl up to +a vocation. It takes a man a lifetime to make six hundred pounds in +a country shop, but there’s many a one who does it by hard work and +self-denial; then down come the nuns and sweep it away, and it’s +wasted. It ought to be invested in a local factory or in waterworks, or +gas-works, or fifty other things that would benefit the town it’s made +in. It ought to be fructifying and bearing interest; instead of which +off it goes to Munich for stained glass, or to Italy for a marble altar. +Is it any wonder Ireland is crying out with poverty?’ + +‘Yes,’ said Maguire, ‘and that’s not the worst of it. I’d be content to +let them take the damned money and deck their churches with it, but the +girls--there are hundreds of them caught every year for nuns, and swept +out of life. It isn’t the Irish convents alone that get them. American +nuns come over and Australian nuns, and they go round and round the +country picking up girls here and there, and carry them off. There, +I don’t want to talk too much about it. The money is nothing, but the +girls and boys----’ + +‘It seems strange to me,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that when you think that way +you should go on belonging to your Church.’ + +‘Desert the Church!’ said Maguire. ‘We’ll never do that. How could we +live without religion? And what other religion is there? I grant you +that your priests wouldn’t rob us, but--but think of the cold of it. +You can’t realize it, Conneally, but think what it would mean to +a Catholic--a religion without saints, without absolution, without +sacrifice. Besides, what we complain of is not Catholicism. It’s a +parasitic growth destroying the true faith, defiling the Church.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘and even from my point of view how should we +be the better of a change? Your Church is ruled by old women who think +the name of Englishman the most glorious in the world. You preach +loyalty, and I believe you pray for the Queen in your services. A nice +fool I would feel praying that the Queen should have victory over her +enemies.’ + +For a long time afterwards this conversation dwelt in Hyacinth’s mind. +Tim Halloran he knew to be practically a freethinker, but Maguire +regularly heard Mass on Sundays, and often went to confession. It was a +puzzle how he could do so, feeling as he did about the religious Orders. +So insistent did the problem become to his mind that he found himself +continually leading the conversation round to it from one side or +another. Mary O’Dwyer told him that she also had a sister in a nunnery. + +‘She teaches girls to make lace, and wonderful work they do. She is +perfectly happy. I think her face is the sweetest and most beautiful +thing I have ever seen. There is not a line on it of care or of +fretfulness. It seems to me as if her whole life might be described as +a quiet smile. I always feel better by the mere recollection of her face +for a long time after I have visited her. Oh, I know it wouldn’t do +for me. I couldn’t stand it for a week. I should go mad with the quiet +restraint of it all. But my sister is happy. I can’t forget that. I +suppose she has a vocation.’ + +‘Vocation,’ said Hyacinth thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I can understand how that +would make all the difference. But how many of them have the vocation?’ + +‘Don’t you think vocation might be learnt? I mean mightn’t one grow into +it, if one wished to very much, and if the life was constantly before +one’s eyes, beautiful and calm?’ + +It was almost the same thought which Timothy Halloran had suggested. +Mary O’Dwyer spoke of growing into vocation, Tim of the working of it +up. Was there any difference except a verbal one? + +On another occasion he spoke to Dr. Henry about the position of the +Church of Ireland in the country. + +‘We have proved,’ said the professor, ‘that the Roman claims have no +support in Scripture, history, or reason. Our books remain unanswered, +because they are unanswerable. We can do no more.’ + +‘We might offer the Irish people a Church which they could join,’ said +Hyacinth. + +‘We do. We offer them the Church of St. Patrick, the ancient, historic +Church of Ireland. We offer them the two Sacraments of the Gospel, +administered by priests duly ordained at the hands of an Episcopate +which goes back in an unbroken line to the Apostles. We present them the +three great creeds for their assent. We use a liturgy that is at once +ancient and pure. The Church of Ireland has all this, is beyond dispute +a branch of the great Catholic Church of Christ.’ + +‘It may be all you say,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but it is not national. In +sentiment and sympathy it is English and not Irish.’ + +‘I know what you mean,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I think I understand how you +feel, but I cannot consent to the conclusion you want to draw. There +is no real meaning in the cry for nationality. It is a sentiment, a +fashion, and will pass. Even if it were genuine and enduring, I hold it +to be better for Ireland to be an integral part of a great Empire than a +contemptible and helpless item among the nations of the world, a prey to +the intrigues of ambitious foreign statesmen.’ + +Hyacinth sighed and turned to go, but Dr. Henry laid a hand upon his +shoulder and detained him. + +‘Conneally,’ he said kindly, ‘let me give you a word of advice. Don’t +mix yourself up with your new friends too much. You will ruin your own +prospects in life if you do. There is nothing more fatal to a man among +the people with whom you and I are to live and work than the suspicion +of being tainted with Nationalist ideas. You can’t be both a rebel and +a clergyman. You see,’ he added with a smile, ‘I take enough interest in +you to know who your friends are, and what you are thinking about.’ + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Augusta Goold’s scheme for enrolling Irish volunteers to help the Boers +was duly set forth in the next issue of the _Croppy_. It included two +appeals--one for money and one for men. The details were worked out +with the frank contempt for possibility which characterizes some of the +famous suggestions of Dean Swift. She had the same faculty that he had +for bringing absurdities within the range of the commonplace; but there +was this difference between them--Miss Goold quite believed in her own +plans, while the great Dean no doubt grinned over the proof-sheets of +his ‘Modest Proposal.’ + +It happened, most unfortunately, that the appeal synchronized with +another, also for funds, which was issued by Mr. O’Rourke, the leader +of the Parliamentary party. Since the death of John O’Neill the purse +of the party had been getting lean. The old tactics which used to draw +plaudits and dollars from the United States, as well as a tribute from +every parish in Ireland, had lately been unsuccessful. There were still +violent scenes in the House of Commons, but they no longer produced +anything except contemptuous smiles. Members of Parliament still +succeeded occasionally in getting the Chief Secretary to imprison them, +but the glory of martyrdom was harder to win than in the old days. +Latterly things had come to such a pass that even the reduced stipends +offered to the members fell into arrear. The attendance at Westminster +dropped away. The Government could afford to smile at Mr. O’Rourke’s +efforts to make himself disagreeable, and the Opposition were frankly +contemptuous of a people who could not profit them by more than a dozen +votes in a critical division. It became impossible to wring even a +modest Land Bill from the Prime Minister, and Mr. Chesney, now much at +ease in the Secretary’s office in the Castle, scarcely felt it necessary +to be civil to deputations which wanted railways. It was clear that +something must be done, or Mr. O’Rourke’s business would disappear. +He decided to appeal for funds _orbi et urbi_. The world--in this case +North America--was to be visited, exhorted, and, it was hoped, taxed by +some of his most eloquent lieutenants. Even Canada, with its leaven +of Orangemen, was to be honoured with the speeches of an orator of +second-rate powers. The city--Dublin, of course--was the chosen scene of +the leader’s personal exertions. Since his revolt against John O’Neill, +O’Rourke had been a little shy of Dublin audiences, but the pressing +nature of the present crisis almost forced him to pay his court to the +capital. He found some comfort in the recollection that during the five +years that had elapsed since O’Neill’s death he had missed no public +opportunity of shedding tears beside his tomb. He remembered, too, that +he had put his name down for a large subscription towards the erection +of a statue to the dead leader, a work of art which the existing +generation seemed unlikely to have the pleasure of seeing. + +Thus it happened that on the very day of the publication of Miss Goold’s +scheme Mr. O’Rourke announced his intention of addressing an appeal for +funds to a public meeting in the Rotunda. Miss Goold was disconcerted +and irritated. She was well aware that Mr. O’Rourke’s appeal would give +the respectable Nationalists an excellent excuse for ignoring hers, and +unfortunately the respectable people are just the ones who have most +money. She was confident that she could rely on the extreme section of +the Nationalists, and on that element in the city population which loves +and makes a row, but she could not count on the moneyed classes. They +were, so far as their words went, very enthusiastic for the Boer +cause; but when it came to writing cheques, it was likely that the +counter-attractions of the Parliamentary fund would prove too strong. + +Since it seemed that Mr. O’Rourke would certainly spoil her collection, +the obvious thing to do was to try to spoil his. If he afforded people +an excuse for not paying the travelling expenses of her volunteers to +Lorenzo Marques, she would, if possible, suggest a way of escape from +paying for his men’s journeys to London. After all, no one really wanted +to subscribe to either fund, and it might be supposed that the public +would very gladly keep their purses shut altogether. + +For an Irishman it is quite possible to be genuinely enthusiastic and at +the same time able to see the humorous side of his own enthusiasm. This +is a reason why an Irishman is never a bore unless, to gain his private +ends, he wants to be. Even an Irish advocate of total abstinence, or an +Irish antivaccinationist, if such a thing exists, is not a bore, +because he will always trot out his conscientious objections with a +half-humorous, half-deprecating smile. This same capacity for avoiding +the slavery of serious fanaticism enables an Irishman to cease quite +joyfully from the pursuit of his own particular fad in order to corner +an obnoxious opponent. Thus Augusta Goold and her friends were genuinely +desirous of striking a blow at England, and really believed that their +volunteers might do it; but this did not prevent them from finding +infinite relish in the prospect of watching Mr. O’Rourke squirming on +the horns of a dilemma. They took counsel together, and the result of +their deliberations was peculiar. They proposed to invite Mr. O’Rourke +to join his appeal to theirs, to pool the money which came in, and to +divide it evenly between the volunteers and the members of Parliament. +It was Tim Halloran who hit upon the brilliant idea. Augusta Goold +chuckled over it as she grasped its consequences. Mr. O’Rourke, Tim +argued, would be unwilling to accept the proposal because he wanted all +the money he could get, more than was at all likely to be collected. +He would be equally unwilling to reject it, because he could then be +represented as indifferent to the heroic struggle of the Boers. In +the existing state of Irish and American opinion a suspicion of such +indifference would be quite sufficient to wreck his chances of getting +any money at all. + +Of course, the obvious way of making such a proposal would have been by +letter to Mr. O’Rourke. Afterwards the correspondence--he must make a +reply of some sort--could be sent to the press, and sufficient publicity +would be given to the matter. This was what Tim Halloran wanted to do, +but such a course did not commend itself to Augusta Goold. It lacked +dramatic possibilities, and there was always the chance that the leading +papers might refuse to take any notice of the matter, or relegate +the letters to a back page and small print. Besides, a mere newspaper +controversy would not make a strong appeal to the section of the Dublin +populace on whose support she chiefly relied. A much more attractive +plan suggested itself. Augusta Goold, with a few friends to act as +aides-de-camp, would present herself to Mr. O’Rourke at his Rotunda +meeting, and put the proposal to him then and there in the presence of +the audience. + +In the meantime the few days before the meeting were occupied in +scattering suggestive seed over the hoardings and blank walls of the +city. One morning people were startled by the sight of an immense +placard which asked in violent red letters, ‘What is Ireland going +to do?’ Public opinion was divided about the ultimate purpose of the +poster. The majority expected the announcement of a new play or novel; +a few held that a pill or a cocoa would be recommended. Next morning the +question became more explicit, and the hypothesis of the play and the +pill were excluded. ‘What,’ the new poster ran, ‘is Ireland going to do +for the Boers?’ The public were not intensely anxious to find an answer +to the conundrum thrust thus forcibly on their attention, but they +became curious to know who the advertisers were who hungered for the +information. Men blessed by Providence with sagacious-looking faces made +the most of their opportunity, and informed their friends that the thing +was a new dodge of O’Rourke’s to get money. Their reputation suffered +when the next placard appeared. The advertisers had apparently changed +their minds, for what they now wanted to know was, ‘What are the Irish +M.P.’s going to do for the Boers?’ Clearly Mr. O’Rourke could have +nothing to gain by insisting on an answer to such a question. The public +were puzzled but pleased. The bill-stickers of the city foresaw +the possibility of realizing a competence, for the next morning the +satisfied inquirers published the result of their investigations. ‘The +Em Pees ‘(it was thus that they now referred to the honourable members +of Parliament) ‘are supporting the infamies of England.’ It was at +this point that the eye of a Castle official was caught by one of the +placards as he made his way to the Kildare Street Club for luncheon. +He discussed the matter with a colleague, and it occurred to them that +since they were paid for governing Ireland, they ought to give the +public some value for their money, and seize the opportunity of doing +something. They sent a series of telegrams to Mr. Chesney’s London +house, which were forwarded by his private secretary to the Riviera. +The replies which followed kept the Castle officials in a state of +pleasurable excitement until quite late in the evening. At about eight +o’clock large numbers of Metropolitan police sallied out of their +barracks and tore down the last batch of placards. Next morning fresh +ones were posted up, each of which bore the single word, ‘Why?’ The +bill-stickers were highly pleased, and many of them were arrested for +drunkenness. Mr. O’Rourke was much less pleased, for he began to guess +what the answer was likely to be, and how it would affect his chances of +securing a satisfactory collection. The officials were perplexed. They +suspected the ‘Why?’ of containing within its three letters some hideous +sedition, but it was not possible to deal vigorously with what might, +after all, be only the cunning novelty of some advertising manufacturer. +More telegrams harried Mr. Chesney, but before any definite course of +action had been decided on the morning of the Rotunda meeting arrived, +and with it an answer to the multifarious ‘Whys’: Because O’Rourke wants +all the money to spend in the London restaurants.’ There was a great +deal of laughter, and many people, quite uninterested in politics, +determined to go to the meeting in hopes of more amusement. + +When Mr. O’Rourke took the chair the hall was crowded to its utmost +capacity. Under ordinary circumstances this would have augured well for +the success of his appeal, for it showed that the public were at all +events not apathetic. On this particular occasion, however, Mr. O’Rourke +would have been better pleased with a smaller audience. The placards +had shown him that something unpleasant was likely to occur, though they +afforded no hint of the form which the unpleasantness would take. When +he rose to his feet he was greeted with the usual volley of cheers, and +although some rude remarks about the Boers were made in the corners of +the hall, they did not amount to anything like an organized attempt at +interruption. He began his speech cautiously, feeling the pulse of +his audience, and plying them with the well-worn platitudes of the +Nationalist platform. When these evoked the usual enthusiasm he waxed +bolder, and shot out some almost original epigrams directed against the +Government, working up to a really new gibe about officials who sat +like spiders spinning murderous webs in Dublin Castle. The audience +were delighted with this, but their joy reached its height when someone +shouted: ‘You might speak better of the men who tore down the placard +on Wednesday.’ Mr. O’Rourke ignored the suggestion, and passed on to +sharpen his wit upon the landlords. He described them as ‘ill-omened +tax-gatherers who suck the life-blood of the country, and refuse to +disgorge a penny of it for any useful purpose.’ Mr. O’Rourke was not a +man who shrank from a mixed metaphor, or paused to consider such trifles +as the unpleasantness which would ensue if anyone who had been sucking +blood were to repent and disgorge it. ‘Where,’ he went on to ask, ‘do +they spend their immense revenues? Is it in Ireland?’ Here he made one +of those dramatic pauses for which his oratory was famous. The audience +waited breathlessly for the denunciation which was to follow. They were +treated, unexpectedly, to a well-conceived anticlimax. A voice spoke +softly, but quite clearly, from the back of the hall: + +‘Bedad, and I shouldn’t wonder if it was in the London restaurants.’ + +A roar of laughter followed. The orator might no doubt have made an +effective reply, but every time he opened his mouth minor wits, rending +like wolves the carcase of the original joke, yelled ‘turtle-soup’ +at him, or ‘champagne and oysters.’ He got angry, and consequently +flurried. He tried to quell the tumult by thundering out the +denunciation which he had prepared. But the delight which the audience +took in shrieking the items of their imaginary bill of fare was too much +for him. He forgot what he had meant to say, floundered, attempted to +pull himself together, and brought out the stale jest about providing +each landlord with a single ticket to Holyhead. + +‘And that same,’ said his original tormentor, ‘would be cheaper than +giving you a return ticket to London.’ + +The audience was immensely tickled. So far the entertainment, if not +precisely novel, was better than anything they had hoped for, and +everyone had an agreeable conviction that there was still something +in the way of a sensation in store. Perhaps it was eagerness for the +expected climax which induced them to keep tolerably quiet during the +remainder of Mr. O’Rourke’s speech. He set forth at some length the +glorious achievements of his party in the past, and explained the +opportunities of future usefulness which lay to be grasped if only the +necessary funds were provided. He sat down to make way, as he assured +the audience, for certain tried and trusty soldiers of the cause who +were waiting to propose important resolutions. So far as these +warriors were concerned, he might as well have remained standing. Their +resolutions are to this day unproposed and uncommended--a secret joy, +no doubt, to those who framed them, but not endorsed by any popular +approval. + +Hyacinth Conneally was not admitted to the secret councils of Augusta +Goold and her friends. He knew no more than the general public what kind +of a coup was meditated, but he gathered from Miss O’Dwyer’s nervous +excitement and Tim Halloran’s air of immense and mysterious importance +that something quite out of the common was likely to occur. By arriving +an hour and a half before the opening of the meeting he secured a seat +near the platform. He enjoyed the discomfiture of O’Rourke, whom he had +learnt from the pages of the _Croppy_ to despise as a mere windbag, and +to hate as the betrayer of O’Neill. A sudden thrill of excitement went +through him when O’Rourke sat down. The whole audience turned their +faces from the platform towards the door at the far end of the hall, and +Hyacinth, without knowing exactly what he expected, turned too. +There was a swaying visible among the crowd near the door, and almost +immediately it became clear that someone was trying to force a way +through the densely-packed people. Curses were to be heard, and even +cries from those who were being trodden on. At last a way was made. +Augusta Goold, followed by Grealy, Halloran, and Mary O’Dwyer, came +slowly up the hall towards the platform. Those of the audience whose +limbs had not been crushed or their feet mangled in preparation for her +progress cheered her wildly. Indeed, she made a regal appeal to them. +Even amidst a crowd of men her height made her conspicuous, and she had +arrayed herself for the occasion in a magnificent violet robe. It flowed +from her shoulders in spacious folds, and swept behind her, splendidly +contemptuous of the part it played as scavenger amid the accumulated +filth of the floor. Her bare arms shone out of the wide sleeves which +hung around them. Her neck rose strong and stately over the silver clasp +of a cloak which she had thrown back from her shoulders. She wore a hat +which seemed to hold her hair captive from falling loose around her. One +great tress alone escaped from it, and by some cunning manipulation was +made to stand straight out, as if blown by the wind from its fastenings. +In comparison her suite looked commonplace and mean. Poor Miss O’Dwyer +was arrayed--‘gowned,’ she would have said herself in reporting the +scene--in vesture not wanting in splendour, but which beside Miss +Goold’s could not catch the eye. Thomas Grealy, awkward and stooped, +peered through his glasses at the crowd. Tim Halloran walked jauntily, +but his eyes glanced nervously from side to side. He was certainly ill +at ease, possibly frightened, at the position in which he found himself. + +A hurried consultation took place among the gentlemen on the platform, +which ended in Mr. O’Rourke stepping forward with a smile and an +outstretched hand to welcome Augusta Goold as she ascended the steps. +The expression of his face belied the smile which he had impressed upon +his lips. His eyes had the same look of furtive malice as a dog’s +which wants to bite but fears the stick. Augusta Goold waved aside the +proffered hand, and stepped unaided on to the platform. Mr. O’Rourke +placed a chair for her, but she ignored it and stood, with her followers +behind her, facing the audience. O’Rourke and two of his tried and +trusty members of Parliament approached her. They stood between her +and the audience, and talked to her for some time, apparently very +earnestly. Augusta Goold looked past them, over them, sometimes it +seemed through them, while they spoke, but made them no answer whatever. +At last Mr. O’Rourke shrugged his shoulders, and withdrew to his chair +with a sulky scowl. + +‘I wish,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘to ask a simple question of your +chairman.’ + +Mr. O’Rourke rose. + +‘This meeting,’ he said, ‘is convened for the purpose of raising funds +for the carrying on of the national business in the House of Commons. If +Miss Goold’s question relates to the business in hand, I shall be most +happy to answer it. If not, I am afraid I cannot allow it to be asked +here. At another time and in another place I shall be prepared to listen +to what Miss Goold has to say, and in the meantime if she will take her +seat on the platform she will be heartily welcome.’ + +‘My question,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘is intimately connected with the +business of the meeting. It is simply this: Are you, Mr. O’Rourke, +prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the Irish +people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + +It was manifestly absurd to ask such a question at all. Mr. O’Rourke +had no intention of collecting money for the Boers, who seemed to have +plenty of their own, and he could not without breach of trust have +applied funds subscribed to feed and clothe members of Parliament to +arming volunteers. Nevertheless, it was an awkward question to answer +in the presence of an audience excited by Augusta Goold’s beauty and +splendid audacity. A really strong man, like, for instance, O’Rourke’s +predecessor, John O’Neill, might have faced the situation, and won, if +not the immediate cheers, at least the respect of the Irish people. But +Mr. O’Rourke was not a strong man, and besides he was out of temper and +had lost his nerve. He took perhaps the worst course open to him: he +made a speech. He appealed to his past record as a Nationalist, and to +his publicly reiterated expressions of sympathy with the Boer cause. +He asked the audience to trust him to do what was right, but he neither +said Yes nor No to the question he was asked. + +Augusta Goold stood calm and impassive while he spoke. A sneer gathered +on her lips and indrawn nostrils as he made his appeal for the people’s +confidence. When he had finished she said, very slowly, and with that +extreme distinctness of articulation which women speakers seem to learn +so much more easily than men: + +‘Are you prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by +the Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + +Mr. O’Rourke was goaded into attempting another speech, but the audience +was in no mood to listen to him. He was interrupted again and again with +shouts of ‘Yes or no!’ ‘Answer the question!’ The bantering tone with +which they had plied him earlier in the evening with suggestions for a +menu had changed now into angry insistence. He passed his hand over his +forehead with a gesture of despair, and sat down. At once the tumult +ceased, and the people waited breathless for Augusta Goold to speak +again. + +‘Are you prepared’--she seemed to have learnt her question off by +heart--‘to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the Irish +people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + +Mr. Shea, a red-headed member of Parliament from Co. Limerick, being +himself one of those most deeply interested in the contents of the +party’s purse, sprang to his feet. It was clear that he was in a +condition of almost dangerous excitement, for he stammered, as he +shouted to the chairman: + +‘Sir, is this--this--this woman to be allowed to interrupt the meeting? +I demand her immediate removal.’ + +Augusta Goold smiled at him. It was really a very gracious, almost a +tender, smile. One might imagine the divine Theodora in her earlier days +smiling with just such an expression on a plebeian lover whose passion +she regarded as creditable to him but hopeless. + +‘I assure you, Mr. Shea, that I shall not interrupt the business for +more than a minute. Mr. O’Rourke has only got to say one word--either +Yes or No. Are you prepared to give any portion of the funds entrusted +to you by the Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for +freedom?’ + +Mr. Shea was not at all mollified either by the smile or the politeness +of her tone. + +‘We shall not permit the meeting to be interrupted any more,’ he +shouted. ‘Either you will withdraw at once, or we shall have you removed +by force.’ + +She smiled at him again--a pitying smile, as if she regretted the +petulance of his manner, and turned to the chairman. + +‘Are you prepared to give----’ + +Then Mr. Shea’s feelings became too strong for his self-control. He +sprang forward, apparently with the intention of laying violent hands +upon Augusta Groold. Hyacinth Conneally started up to protect her, and +the same impulse moved a large part of the audience. There was a rush +for the platform, and a fierce, threatening yell. Mr. Shea hung back, +frightened. Augusta Goold held up her hand, and immediately the rush +stopped and the people were silent. She went on with her question, +taking it up at the exact word which Mr. Shea had interrupted, in the +same level and exquisitely irritating tone. + +‘--Any of the money entrusted to you by the Irish people to assist the +Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + +Mr. O’Rourke had sat scowling silently since the failure of his last +attempt to explain himself. This final disjointed repetition of the +galling question roused him to the necessity of doing something. He +was a pitiful sight as he rose and confronted Augusta Goold. There +were blotches of purple red and spaces of pallor on his face; his hands +twisted together; a sweat had broken out from his neck, and made his +collar limp. His words were a stammering mixture of bluster and appeal. + +‘You mustn’t--mustn’t--mustn’t interrupt the meeting,’ So far he tried +to assert himself, then, with a glance at the contemptuous face of the +woman before him, he relapsed into the tone of a schoolboy who begs off +the last strokes of a caning. ‘Is this nice conduct? Is it ladylike to +come here and attack us like this? Miss Goold, I’m ashamed of you.’ + +‘I am glad to hear,’ said Augusta Goold, departing for the first time +from her question, ‘that there is anything left in the world that Mr. +O’Rourke is ashamed of. I didn’t think there was.’ + +It was Mr. Shea and not his leader who resented this last insult. His +lips drew apart, leaving his teeth bare in a ghastly grin. He clenched +his fists, and stood for a moment trembling from head to foot. Then he +leaped forward towards Augusta Goold. The man who stood next Hyacinth +lurched suddenly forward, wrenched his right hand free of the crowd +round him, and flung it back behind his head. Hyacinth saw that he held +a large stone in it. + +‘You are a cowardly blackguard, Shea,’ he yelled--‘a damned, cowardly +blackguard! Would you strike a woman?’ + +Shea turned on the instant, saw the hand stretched back to fling the +stone. He seized the chair behind him--the very chair which, while an +appearance of politeness was still possible, Mr. O’Rourke had offered +to Augusta Goold--and flung it with all his force at the man with the +stone. One of the legs grazed Hyacinth’s cheek, scraping the skin +off. The corner of the seat struck the man beside him full across the +forehead just above his eyes. The blood poured out, blinding, and then, +as he gasped, choking him. He reeled and huddled together helplessly. +He could not fall, for the pressure of the crowd round him held him up. +Hyacinth felt his hands groping wildly as if for support, and reached +out his own to grasp him. But the man wanted no help for himself. As +soon as he felt another hand touch his he pressed the stone into it. + +‘I can’t see,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Take it, you, and kill him, kill +him, kill him! smash his skull!’ + +Hyacinth took the stone. The feel of the man’s blood warm on it and the +fierce yelling and stamping of the crowd filled him with a mad lust of +hate against Shea, who stood as if suddenly paralyzed within a few feet +of him. He wrenched his hand free, and with a mighty effort flung the +stone. He saw it strike Shea fair on the forehead. In spite of the +tumult around him, he fancied he heard the dull thud of its impact. +He saw Shea fling up his hands and pitch forward. He saw Augusta Goold +gather her skirts in her hand, and sweep them swiftly aside lest the man +should fall on them. Then the crowd pressing towards the platform swept +him off his feet, and he was tossed helplessly forward. A giddy +sickness seized him. The pressure slackened for an instant, and he fell. +Someone’s boot struck him on the head. He felt without any keen regret +that he was likely to be trampled to death. Then he lost consciousness. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Next morning the Dublin daily papers laid themselves out to make the +most of the sensational fight at the Rotunda. Even the habitually +cautious _Irish Times_ felt that the occasion justified the expression +of an opinion, and that there would be no serious risk of alienating the +sympathies of subscribers and advertisers by condemning the bloodshed. +It published an exceedingly dignified and stodgy leading article, +drawing the largest and finest words from the dictionary, and weaving +them with extraordinary art into sentences which would have been +creditable to anyone bent upon imitating the style of Dr. Samuel +Johnson. The British Empire and the whole of civilized Europe were +called upon to witness the unspeakably deplorable consequences which +invariably followed the habitual neglect of the cultivation of the +elementary decencies of public life. The paper disclaimed any sympathy +with either of the belligerent parties, and pointed out with sorrowful +solemnity that if the principles sedulously inculcated upon its readers +in its own columns were persistently flouted and contemned by those who +claimed the position of national representatives, little else except a +repetition at frequent intervals of the painful and humiliating +scenes of the night before could possibly be anticipated by reasonable +observers of the general trend of democratic institutions. The _Daily +Express_ openly exulted over the rioters. Its leading article--the +staff may have danced in a ring round the office table while composing +it--declared that now at length the Irish had proved to the world +that they were all, without a solitary exception, irredeemably +vicious corner-boys. Miss Augusta Goold was warmly praised for having +demonstrated once for all that ‘patriotism’ ought to be written ‘Pat +riotism.’ Deep regret was expressed that those who attended the meeting +had not been armed with revolvers instead of stones, and that the +platform had not been defended with Maxim guns instead of comparatively +innocuous wooden chairs. Had modern weapons of precision been used the +_Daily Express_ would have been able to congratulate mankind on getting +rid of quite a considerable number of Irishmen. + +The _Freeman’s Journal_ and the _Daily Independent_ were awkwardly +situated. Their sympathies were entirely with Mr. O’Rourke, and +they were exceedingly angry with Miss Goold for interfering with the +collection of funds for the Parliamentary party. At the same time, +they felt a difficulty in denouncing her, not for want of suitable +language--the Irish Nationalist press has a superb command of words +which a self-respecting dictionary would hesitate to recognise--but +because they felt that push of the horns of the dilemma on which +O’Rourke had been impaled, and they were obliged to sand their +denunciations between layers of stoutest pro-Boer sentiment. + +All four papers contained reports of the proceedings which were +practically identical up to a certain point. It was about the +commencement of the actual bloodshed that they differed. The _Irish +Times_ reporter believed that Mr. Shea had begun the fray by striking +Augusta Goold behind the ear with his clenched fist. The _Daily Express_ +man claimed to have overheard Mr. O’Rourke urging his friends to brain +a member of the audience with a chair. The _Freeman’s Journal_ held that +Augusta Goold’s supporters had come into the hall supplied with huge +stones, which, at a given signal, they had flung at the inoffensive +members of Parliament who occupied the platform, adding, as a +corroborative detail, that the lady who accompanied Augusta Goold +had twice kicked the prostrate Mr. Shea in the stomach. The _Daily +Independent_ advanced the ingenious theory that the contest had been +precipitated by a malevolent student of Trinity College, who had flung +an apple of discord--on this occasion a jagged paving-stone of unusual +size--into the midst of a group of ladies and gentlemen who were +peacefully discussing a slight difference of opinion among themselves. +Beyond this point none of the papers gave any account of the +proceedings, all four reporters having recognised that, not being +retained as war correspondents, they were not called upon to risk their +lives on the battlefield. The accounts all closed with the information +that the wounded had been carried to Jervis Street Hospital, and were +under treatment suitable to their injuries. Hyacinth had suffered a +slight concussion of the brain and a flesh wound. Other sufferers were +in the same ward, Mr. Shea himself occupying a bed, so that Hyacinth had +the satisfaction of seeing him stretched out, a melancholy figure, +with a bandage concealing most of his red hair. After the surgeon +had finished his rounds for the morning a police official visited the +sufferers, and made a careful note of their names and addresses. He +inquired in a perfunctory manner whether any of them wished to swear an +information. No one, except Mr. Shea, was sufficiently satisfied with +his own share of the meeting to wish for more fame than was unavoidable. +As no further use was ever made of Mr. Shea’s narrative, it may be +presumed that the authorities regarded it as wanting in accuracy. +No blame, however, ought to be attached to the author for any petty +deviation from the truth of which he may have been guilty. No man’s mind +is perfectly clear on the morning after he has been struck on the head +with a stone, and perhaps afterwards kicked twice in the stomach by a +lady journalist. Besides, all members of Parliament are, in virtue of +their office, ‘honourable gentlemen.’ + +An excited and sympathetic nurse provided Hyacinth with copies of the +four morning papers, which he read with interest and a good deal of +amusement. Only the account in the _Daily Independent_ caused him any +uneasiness. No doubt, as he fully recognised, the suggestion about +the Trinity student was nothing but a wild guess on the part of the +reporter. It was highly unlikely that anyone would seriously consider a +theory so intrinsically improbable. Still, if the faintest suspicion of +the part he had played reached the ears of the college authorities, he +felt that his career as a divinity student was likely to be an extremely +brief one. His chief fear was that a prolonged absence from college +would give rise to inquiry, and that his bandages would excite suspicion +when he reappeared. Fortunately, the house surgeon decided that he was +sufficiently recovered to be allowed to leave the hospital early in the +afternoon. The boot which had put an end to his share in the riot had +raised its bruise under his hair, so he was able to remove the bandages +from his head as soon as he got into the street. There still remained a +long strip of plaster meant to keep a dressing of iodoform in its place +over the cut on his cheek which Mr. Shea’s chair-leg had inflicted. +This he could not get off, and thinking it wiser to make his entry into +college after nightfall, he sought a refuge in Mary O’Dwyer’s rooms. + +He found the poetess laid on a sofa and clad in a blue dressing-gown. +She stretched a hand of welcome to Hyacinth, and then, before he had +time to take it, began to laugh immoderately. The laughing fit ended in +sobs, and then tears flowed from her eyes, which she mopped convulsively +with an already damp pocket-handkerchief. Before she had recovered +sufficient self-possession to speak, she signed to Hyacinth to fetch a +bottle of smelling-salts from the chimney-piece. He hastened to obey, +and found himself kneeling beside the sofa, holding the bottle to her +nose. After a while she recovered sufficiently to tell him that she had +not slept at all during the night, and felt extremely unwell and quite +unstrung in consequence. Another fit of immoderate and tearful laughter +followed, and Hyacinth, embarrassed and alarmed, fetched a tumbler of +soda-water from the syphon on the sideboard. The lady refused to +swallow any, and, just as he had made up his mind to risk an external +application, recovered again. During the lucid interval which followed +she informed him that his own conduct had been superb and heroic. What +seemed to be an effort to celebrate his achievements in extemporary +verse brought on another fit. Hyacinth determined to risk an appearance +in the college square in broad daylight rather than continue his +ministrations. While he was searching for his hat Miss O’Dwyer became +suddenly quite calm, and began to explain to him how immensely the cause +of Ireland’s independence had benefited by the demonstration in the +Rotunda. Hyacinth listened anxiously, waiting for the next explosion, +and experienced very great relief when the door opened and Augusta Goold +walked in. + +Unlike Mary O’Dwyer, she was entirely mistress of herself. Her cheeks +were not a shade paler than usual, nor her hand at all less cool and +firm. She stretched herself, after her usual fashion, in the largest +available chair and lit a cigarette. + +‘You look excited, my dear Mary,’ she said--‘a little overexcited, +perhaps. Have you had tea? No? Perhaps you will be so kind as to ring +the bell, Mr. Conneally.’ + +Mary O’Dwyer repeated the information she had given Hyacinth about her +sleepless night, and complimented Augusta Goold on her nerve. + +‘As for poor little me,’ she went on, ‘I’m like a--like a--you remember +the kind of thing, don’t you?--like a--I’m not sure if I know the name +of the thing myself.’ + +She relapsed into a weak giggle, and Hyacinth stooped for the bottle of +smelling-salts, which had rolled under the sofa. Augusta Goold was much +less sympathetic. She fixed her with a strong stare of amazement and +disgust. Apparently this treatment was the right one, for the giggling +stopped almost immediately. + +‘I see you have got some sticking-plaster on your face, Mr. Conneally,’ +she said, when Mary O’Dwyer had quieted down. + +‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and a good-sized bump behind my ear.’ + +‘I suppose this business will be very awkward for you in college. Will +they turn you out?’ + +‘I’m sure they will if they find out that I threw that stone at Shea.’ + +‘You made a very good shot,’ said Augusta, smiling at the recollection. +‘But how on earth did you come to have a stone that size in the hall +with you?’ + +Hyacinth told the story of the man who had been felled by the chair and +his murderous bequest. + +‘That’s the proper spirit,’ said Augusta. ‘I admire that man, and he +couldn’t have passed his stone on to better hands than yours. Shea went +down as if he had been shot. I was afraid of my life he would clutch at +my skirts as he fell or squirm up against me after he was down. But he +lay quite still. By the way, Mary, I suppose your dress was ruined?’ + +Mary O’Dwyer was quite subdued. + +‘It was torn,’ she said meekly enough. + +‘Have you another one?’ + +‘Of course I have. I’ve three others, besides some old ones.’ + +‘Well, then, you’d better go and put on one of them. An old one will do. +It’s disgusting to see a woman slopping about in a dressing-gown at this +time of day. I’ll have tea ready when you come back.’ + +Miss O’Dwyer obeyed sulkily. She wished very much that Augusta Goold had +stopped at home. It would have been a great deal pleasanter to have gone +on practising hysterics with Hyacinth as a sympathetic spectator. When +the door was shut Augusta Goold turned to Hyacinth again. + +‘That’s the worst of women’--apparently she did not consider herself as +one of the sex--‘they are all right at the time (nothing could have +been better than Mary’s behaviour at the meeting), but they collapse +afterwards in such idiotic ways. But I want to talk to you about +yourself. I owe you a good turn for what you did last night. Only for +you, I think Shea would have dared to touch me, and then very likely I +should have killed him, and there might have been trouble afterwards.’ +She spoke quite calmly, but Hyacinth had very little doubt that she +meant exactly what she said. ‘Grealy of course, was useless. One might +have expected him to give utterance to an ancient tribal war-cry, but he +didn’t even do that. Tim Halloran got frightened when the row began. I +noticed him dodging about behind Mary and me, and I mean to let him know +what I think about him. It’s you I have to thank, and I won’t forget it. +If you get into trouble over this business in college, come to me, and +I will see you straight. In fact, if you like to give up the divinity +student business at once, I dare say I can put you in the way of earning +an honester livelihood.’ + +Hyacinth was gratified at the way Augusta Goold spoke to him. Since +the evening on which he had given his opinion about the morality of +desertion and murder he had been conscious of a coolness in her manner. +Now he had apparently reinstated himself in her good graces. Praise, +even for an act he was secretly ashamed of, and gratitude, though he +by no means recognised that he deserved it, were pleasant to him. He +promised to remember the offer of help, but declined for the present to +commit his future to the keeping of so bloodthirsty a patroness. + +Curiously enough, Hyacinth’s reception in college was a great deal more +cordial after the Rotunda meeting than it had ever been before. For a +while the battle which had been fought at their doors superseded the +remoter South African warfare as a topic of conversation among the +students. Their sympathies were with Augusta Goold. Even members of the +divinity classes suffered themselves to be lured from their habitual +worship of respectability so far as to express admiration for the +dramatic picturesqueness of the part she played. It is true that the +lady herself was called by names universally resented by women, and that +the broadest slanders were circulated about her character. Still, a halo +of glory hung round her. It was felt that she had done a surprisingly +courageous thing when she faced Mr. O’Rourke on his own platform. Also, +she had behaved with a certain dignity, neither throwing chairs nor +stones at her opponents. Then, she was an undeniably beautiful woman, +a fact which made its inevitable appeal to the young men. The mere +expression of sympathy with this flamboyant and scandal-smeared heroine +brought with it a delightful flavour of gay and worldly vice. It was +pretty well known that Hyacinth was a friend of Miss Goold’s, and it +was rumoured that he had earned his piece of sticking-plaster in +her defence. No one knew exactly what he had done or how much he had +suffered, but a great many men were anxious to know. Very much to his +own surprise, he received a number of visitors in his rooms. Men who had +been the foremost of his tormentors came, ostensibly to inquire for his +health, in reality to glean details of the fight at the Rotunda. Certain +medical students of the kind which glory in any kind of row openly +congratulated him on his luck in being present on such an occasion. Men +who claimed to be fast, and tried to impress their acquaintances with +the belief that they indulged habitually in wild scenes of revelry, +courted Hyacinth, and boasted afterwards of their second-hand +acquaintance with Miss Goold. It became the fashion to be seen +arm-in-arm with him in the quadrangle, and to inquire from him in public +for ‘Finola.’ + +This new popularity by no means pleased Hyacinth. He was not at all +proud of his share in the Rotunda meeting, and lived in daily dread of +being recognised as the assailant of Mr. Shea. He knew, too, that he was +making no way with the better class of students. The men whose faces +he liked were more than ever shy of making his acquaintance. The +sub-lecturers and minor professors in the divinity school were coldly +contemptuous in their manner, and it seemed to him that even Dr. +Henry was less friendly. He became desperately anxious to get out of a +position which he found more intolerable than the original isolation. He +applied himself with extreme diligence to his studies, even affecting +an interest, unnatural for the most pious, in the expositions given +by learned doctors of the Thirty-nine Articles. At lectures on Church +history he made notes about the vagaries of heretics so assiduously that +the professor began to hope that there existed one student at least +who took an interest in the Christological controversies of the sixth +century. He never ventured back again to the Wednesday prayer-meeting, +but he performed many attendances beyond the required minimum at the +college chapel. Morning after morning he dragged himself from his +bed and hurried across the dusky quadrangle to take his part in the +mutilated matins with which the college authorities see fit to usher +in the day. He even went to hear the sermons delivered on Friday +afternoons, homilies so painful that the preachers themselves recognise +an extraordinary merit in enduring them, and allow that submission of +the ears to one of them is to be reckoned as equal to two ordinary acts +of devotion. + +It is to be hoped that Hyacinth derived some remote benefit from the +discipline to which he subjected himself, for the immediate results were +not satisfactory. He seemed no nearer winning the respect of the more +serious students, and Dr. Henry’s manner showed no signs of softening +into friendliness. His surfeit of theology bred in him a dislike of the +subject. The solemn platitudes which were posed as expositions of the +creeds affected his mind much as the expurgated life histories of maiden +aunts do the newly-emancipated school-girl. The relentless closing in of +argument upon a single previously settled doctrine woke in him a desire +to break through at some point and breathe again in the open. He +began to fear that he was becoming hopelessly irreligious. His morning +devotions in the foggy atmosphere of the chapel did not touch the +capacity for enthusiasm within him. The vague splendour of his father’s +meditations had left him outside, indeed, but sure that within there +lay a great reality. But now religion had come to seem an altogether +narrower thing, a fenced off, well-ordered garden in which useful +vegetables might be cultivated, but very little inspiring to the soul. + +The unwelcome attention of the students whose friendship he did not +desire, and his increasing dislike for the work he was expected to do, +led him to spend more and more of his time with Augusta Goold and her +friends. He found in their society that note of enthusiasm which he +missed in the religion of the college. He responded warmly to their +passionate devotion to the dream of an independent Irish Republic. He +felt less conscious of his want of religion in their company. With the +exception of Augusta Goold herself, the members of the coterie were +professedly Roman Catholics; but this made little or no difference +in their intercourse with him. What he found in their ideals was a +substitute for religion, a space where his enthusiasm might extend +itself. He became, as he realized his own position clearly, very +doubtful whether he ought to continue his college course. It did not +seem likely that he would in the end be able to take Holy Orders, and +to remain in the divinity school without that intention was clearly +foolish. On the other hand, he shrank from inflicting what he knew would +be a painful disappointment on his father. It happened that before the +term ended his connection with the divinity school was cut in a way that +saved him from the responsibility of forming a decision. + +He was a regular attendant at the lectures of Dr. Spenser, who had never +from the first disguised his dislike and contempt for Hyacinth. This +gentleman was one day explaining to his class the difference between +evidence which leads to a high degree of probability and a demonstration +which produces absolute certainty. The subject was a dry one, and quite +unsuited to Dr. Spenser, whose heart was set on maintaining a reputation +for caustic wit. He cast about for an illustration which would at once +make clear the distinction and enliven his lecture. His eye lit upon +Hyacinth, upon whose cheek there still burned a long red scar. Dr. +Spenser’s face brightened. + +‘For instance, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘if I should reason from the fact +that our friend Mr. Conneally affects the society of certain charming +ladies of doubtful reputation, like Miss Goold, to the conclusion that +Mr. Conneally is himself a Nationalist, I should only have arrived at +a probable conclusion. The degree of probability might be very high; +still, I should have no right to regard my conclusion as absolutely +certain.’ + +The class tittered delightedly. Dr. Spenser proceeded without heeding a +deep flush on Hyacinth’s face, which might have warned a wiser man that +an explosion was coming. + +‘If I should then proceed to reason thus: All Nationalists are rebels +and potential murderers--Mr. Conneally is a Nationalist; therefore Mr. +Conneally is a rebel and potential murderer--I should, assuming the +truth of my minor premise, have arrived at a certainty.’ + +The syllogism was greeted with loud applause. Hyacinth started to his +feet. For a time he could only gasp for breath to utter a reply, and +Dr. Spenser, secure in the conviction of his own intellectual and social +superiority to the son of a parson from Connemara, determined to pursue +his prey. + +‘Does Mr. Conneally,’ he asked with a simper, ‘propose to impugn the +accuracy of my induction or the logic of my deduction?’ + +The simper and the number of beautiful long words which Dr. Spenser had +succeeded in collecting together into one sentence provoked a sustained +clapping of hands and stamping of feet from the class. Hyacinth rapidly +regained his self-possession, and was surprised at his own coolness when +he replied: + +‘I should say, sir, that a man who makes an induction holding up a lady +to ridicule is probably a cad, and that the cad who makes a deduction +confusing patriotism with murder is certainly a fool.’ + +A report of Hyacinth’s speech was handed to Dr. Henry, with a +suggestion that expulsion from the divinity school was the only suitable +punishment. Hyacinth did not look forward with any pleasure to the +interview to which he was summoned. He was agreeably surprised when he +entered the professor’s room. Dr. Henry offered him a chair. + +‘I hear,’ he said--his tone was severe, but a barely perceptible gleam +of humorous appreciation flashed across his eyes as he spoke--‘that you +have been exceedingly insolent to Dr. Spenser.’ + +‘I don’t know, sir, whether you heard the whole story, but if you did +you will surely recognise that Dr. Spenser was gratuitously insulting to +me.’ + +‘Quite so,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I recognise that, but the question is, What +am I to do with you now? What would you do if you were in my place? I +should like to know your views of the best way out of the situation.’ + +Hyacinth was silent. + +‘You see,’ Dr. Henry went on, ‘we can’t have our divinity lecturers +called fools and cads before their classes. I should be afraid myself +to deliver a lecture in your presence if I thought I was liable to that +kind of interruption.’ + +‘I think, sir,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that the best thing will be for me to +leave the divinity school.’ + +‘I think so, too. But leaving our divinity school need not mean that you +give up the idea of taking Holy Orders. I have a very high opinion of +your abilities, Conneally--so high that I should not like the Church to +lose your services. At the same time, you are not at present the kind +of man whom I could possibly recommend to any Irish Bishop. Your +Nationalist principles are an absolute bar to your working in the Church +of Ireland.’ + +‘I wonder, sir, how you can call our Church the Church of Ireland, and +in the same breath say that there is no room for a Nationalist in her. +Don’t the two things contradict each other.’ + +Dr. Henry’s eyes twinkled again. There spread over his mouth a smile of +tolerant amusement. + +‘My dear boy, I’m not going to let you trap me into a discussion of that +question. Theoretically, I have no doubt you would make out an excellent +case. National Church, National spirit, National politics--Irish Church, +Irish nation, Irish ideas. They all go excellently together, don’t they? +And yet the facts are as I state them. A Nationalist clergyman in +the Church of Ireland would be just as impossible as an English +Nonconformist in the Court of Louis Quatorze. After all, in this life +one has got to steer one’s course among facts, and they’re sharp things +which knock holes in the man who disregards them. Now, what I propose +to you is this: Put off your ordination for three years or so. Take +up schoolmastaring. I will undertake to get you a post in an English +school. Your politics won’t matter over there, because no one will in +the least understand what you mean. Work hard, think hard, read hard. +Mix with the bigger world across the Channel. See England and realize +what England is and what her Empire means. Don’t be angry with me for +saying that, long before the three years are over, you’ll have come to +see that what you call patriotism is nothing else than parochialism of +a particularly narrow and uninstructed kind. Then come back here to me, +and I’ll arrange for your ordination. You’ll do the best of good work +when you’ve grown up a bit, and I’ll see you a Bishop before I die.’ + +‘I shall always be grateful to you,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I shall never +forget your kindness, and the way you’ve treated me; but I can’t do what +you ask.’ + +‘Oh, I’m not going to take no for an answer,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘Go home +to the West and think it over. Talk to your father about your future. +Write to me if you like about your plans, and remember my offer is open +six months or a year hence. You’ll be the same man then that you are +now--I mean, in character. I’m not afraid of your turning out badly. You +may think wrong-headedly, but I’m sure you’ll not act disgracefully.’ + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The December afternoon was growing dark when the weary car-horse +surmounted the last hill on the road from Clifden and broke into a +shambling trot down the long straight stretch into Carrowkeel. Soon, as +the distance dwindled, the lights which twinkled here and there in the +village became distinguishable. This--Hyacinth recognised it--was the +great hanging lamp in the window of Rafferty’s shop. That, a softer +glow, came from the forge of Killeen, the smith. That, and that, fainter +and more uncertain lights, were from fires seen through the open upper +section of cottage doors. He could almost tell whose the cabins were +where they shone. The scene inside rose to the imagination. A man with +ragged clothes and a half-empty pipe is squeezed into the stone nook +beside the blazing turf. The kettle, hanging from its hook, swings +steaming beside him. The woman of the house, barefooted, sluttish, in +torn crimson petticoat and gray bodice pinned across her breast, moves +the red cinders from the lid of the pot-oven and peers at the browning +cake within. Babies toddle or crawl over the greasy floor. The car +rattled into the village street. Men whom he knew stopped it to speak to +him. Children playing the last of their games in the fading light paused +to stare at him. Father Moran, returning to his presbytery, waved his +hand and shouted a greeting. He passed the last house of the village, +and could see the fishing-boats, dim and naked-looking, riding at their +anchors in the bay. Out beyond them, grim and terrible in the twilight, +lay the hulk where the ice for fish-packing was stored. The thick stump +of her one remaining mast made a blacker bar against the black sky. The +pier was deserted, but he could see the bulky stacks of fish-boxes piled +on it, and hear the water lapping against it. Along its utmost edge lay +a belt of gray white, where the waves broke as they surged round it. He +passed the pier, and there lay before him the long hill that led home. +The church and the ruined school stood out clearly on the skyline. Below +them, less clearly seen, was the rectory, and Hyacinth noted that the +lamp in the kitchen was lit. Then the door was opened, and he saw, plain +against the light, a man’s figure, his father’s. No doubt the old man +was watching and listening. Perhaps the sound of the wheels reached him +through the evening air, for in a few minutes he came out and walked +down the drive. Hyacinth saw him fumble with the fastening of the +rickety gate, and at last open it slowly and with difficulty. The car +reached a gap in the loose stone wall, a familiar gap, for across it lay +a short cut up a steeper part of the hill, which the road went round. +Hyacinth jumped down and ran up the path. In another minute the +greeting of father and son was accomplished, and the two were walking +hand-in-hand towards the house. Hyacinth noticed that his father +trembled, and that his feet stumbled uncertainly among the loose stones +and stiff weeds. + +When they entered the lighted room he saw that his father seemed +older--many years older--than when he had said good-bye to him two +months before. His skin was very transparent, his lips were tremulous, +his eyes, after the first long look at his son, shifted feebly to the +fire, the table, and the floor. + +‘My dear son,’ he said, ‘I thank God that I have got you safe home +again. Indeed, it is good to see you again, Hyacinth, for it has been +very lonely while you were away. I have not been able to do very much +lately or to go out to the seashore, as I used to. Perhaps it is only +that I have not cared to. But I have tried hard to get everything ready +for your coming.’ + +He looked round the room with evident pride as he spoke. Hyacinth +followed his gaze, and it was with a sense of deep shame that he found +himself noticing the squalor of his home. The table was stained, and the +books which littered half of it were thick with dust and grease-spotted. +The earthen floor was damp and pitted here and there, so that the chairs +stood perilously among its inequalities. The fine white powder of turf +ashes lay thick upon the dresser. The whitewash above the fireplace was +blackened by the track of the smoke that had blown out of the chimney +and climbed up to the still blacker rafters of the roof. Hyacinth +remembered how he, and not his father, had been accustomed to clean the +room and wash the cups and plates. He wondered how such matters had been +managed in his absence, and a great sense of compassion filled his eyes +with tears as he thought of the painful struggle which the details +of life must have brought upon his father. He noted the evident +preparations for his coming. There were two eggs lying in a saucer ready +to be boiled, a fresh loaf--and this was not the day they got their +bread--and a small tin of cocoa beside his cup. The hearth was piled +with glowing turf, and the iron tripod with a saucepan on it stood +surrounded with red coals. Some sense of what Hyacinth was feeling +passed into his father’s mind. + +‘Isn’t it all right, my son? I tried to make it very nice for you. I +wanted to get Maggie Cassidy up from the village for the day, but her +baby had the chin-cough, and she couldn’t come.’ + +He took Hyacinth’s hand and held it while he spoke. + +‘Perhaps it looks poor to you,’ he went on, ‘after your college rooms +and the houses your friends live in; but it’s your own home, son, isn’t +it?’ + +Hyacinth made a gulp at the emotion which had brought him near to tears. + +‘It’s splendid, father--simply splendid. And now I’m going to boil those +two eggs and make the cocoa, and we’ll have a feast. Hallo! you’ve got +some jam--jam and butter and eggs, and this is the month of December, +when there’s hardly a hen laying or a cow milking in the whole parish!’ + +He held up the jam-pot as he spoke. It was wrapped in dingy red paper, +and had a mouldy damp stain on one side. Hyacinth recognised the mark, +and remembered that he had seen the identical pot on the upper shelf of +Rafferty’s shop for years. Its label bore an inscription only vaguely +prophetic of the contents--‘Irish Household Jam.’ + +‘That’s right, father, you are supporting home manufacture. I declare +I wouldn’t have tasted it if it had come from England. You see, I’m a +greater patriot than ever.’ + +Old Mr. Conneally smiled in a feeble, wavering way. He seemed scarcely +to understand what was being said to him, but he found a quiet pleasure +in the sound of his son’s voice. He settled himself in a chair by the +fireside and watched contentedly while Hyacinth put the eggs into the +saucepan, hung the kettle on its hook, and cut slices of bread. Then the +meal was eaten, Hyacinth after his long drive finding a relish even in +the household jam. He plied his father with questions, and heard what +the old man knew of the gossip of the village--how Thady Durkan had +broken his arm, and talked of giving up the fishing; how the police from +Letter-frack had found, or said they found, a whisky-still behind the +old castle; how a Gaelic League organizer had come round persuading the +people to sing and dance at the Galway Féis. + +After supper Hyacinth nerved himself to tell the story of his term in +college, and his determination to leave the divinity school. More than +once he made an effort to begin, but the old man, who brightened a +little during their meal, relapsed again into dreaminess, and did not +seem to be listening to him. They pulled their chairs near to the fire, +and Mr. Conneally sat holding his son’s hand fast. Sometimes he stroked +or patted it gently, but otherwise he seemed scarcely to recognise +that he was not alone. His eyes were fixed on the fire, but they stared +strangely, as if they saw something afar off, something not in the +room at all. There was no response in them when Hyacinth spoke, and no +intelligence. From time to time his lips moved slightly as if they were +forming words, but he said nothing. After awhile Hyacinth gave up the +attempt to tell his story, and sat silent for so long that in the end he +was startled when his father spoke. + +‘Hyacinth, my son, I have somewhat to say unto you.’ Before Hyacinth +could reply to him he continued: ‘And the young man answered and said +unto him, “Say on.” And the old man lifted up his voice and said unto +his son, “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.”’ + +He spoke as if he were reading out of a book some narrative from the +Bible. Hyacinth realized suddenly that the communication which was to +be made to him had been rehearsed by his father alone, again and again, +that statement, question and reply, would follow each other in +due sequence from the same lips. He felt that his father was still +rehearsing, and had forgotten the real presence of his son. He grasped +the hand that held him and shook it, saying sharply: + +‘Father, father, I am here. Don’t you know me?’ + +‘Yes, yes, my son. Surely I know you. There is something I want to tell +you. I have wanted to tell it to you for many days. I am glad that you +are here now to listen to it.’ + +He paused, and Hyacinth feared that he would relapse again into dreamy +insensibility; but he did not. + +‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to pray before I speak to you.’ + +He knelt down as Hyacinth had seen him kneel a thousand times before, +facing the eastward-looking window, now a black, uncurtained square in +the whitewashed wall. What he said was almost unintelligible. There was +no petition nor even any sequence of ideas which could be traced. +He poured forth a series of ejaculations expressive of intense and +rapturous delight, very strange to listen to in such a place and from +an old man’s lips. Then the language he spoke changed from English +into Gaelic, and there came a kind of hymn of adoration. His sentences +followed each other in metrical balance like the Latin of the old +liturgies, and suited themselves naturally to a subdued melody, half +chant, half cry, like the mourning of the keeners round a grave. At +last, rising from his knees, he spoke, and his voice became wholly +unemotional, devoid of fervour or excitement. He told his story as a man +might relate some quite commonplace incident of daily life. + +‘One evening I was sitting here by the fire, just as I always sit. I +remember that the lamp was not lit, and that the fire was low, so that +there was not much light in the room. It came into my mind that it was +just out of such gloom that the Lord called “Samuel, Samuel,” and I +wished that I was like Samuel, so innocent that I could hear the voice +of the Lord. I do not remember what I thought of after that. Perhaps for +a time I did not think at all. Then I felt that there were arms about my +neck; but not like your arms, Hyacinth, when you were a child and clung +to me. These were arms which held me lovingly, strongly, protectingly, +like--do you remember, Hyacinth?--“His right hand is under my head; His +left hand doth embrace me.” I sat quite still, and did not move or speak +or even breathe, lest He should go away from me. Then, after a long +time--I knew afterwards that the time was long, though then it seemed +only a minute for the joy that I had in it--He told me--I do not mean +that I heard a voice or any words; I did not hear, I _felt_ Him tell +me--the things that are to be. The last great fight, the Armageddon, +draweth very near. All that is good is on one side in the fight, and the +Captain over all. What is bad is on the other side--all kinds of tyranny +and greed and lust. I did not hear these words, but I felt the things, +only without any fear, for round me were the everlasting arms. And +the battlefield is Ireland, our dear Ireland which we love. All these +centuries since the great saints died He has kept Ireland to be His +battlefield. I understood then how our people have been saved from +riches and from power and from the opportunities of lust, that our soil +out of all the world might be fit for the feet of the great Captain, for +the marching of His horsemen and His chariots. Not even when I knew all +this did I desire to share in the conflict. I am old and feeble, but +that is not the reason why there was no desire on me, for strength is in +His power to give to whom He wills. I did not desire it, because I was +quite happy, being safe with Him.’ + +For a long time after he ceased speaking there was silence, for Hyacinth +had no comment to offer. At last the old man spoke again. + +‘That is all. I have no other word of revelation. But I have wondered +since how men are to be disentangled from their parties and their +churches and their nations, and gathered simply into good and bad. Will +all men who are good just know the Captain when they see Him and range +themselves with Him? But why should we think about such things as these? +Doubtless He can order them. But you, Hyacinth--will you be sure to know +the good side from the bad, the Captain from the enemy?’ + +For a long time after he had gone to bed Hyacinth lay awake haunted by +his father’s prophecy of an Armageddon. There was that in his nature +which responded eagerly to such a call to battle. In the presence of +enthusiasm like his father’s or like Augusta Goold’s, Hyacinth +caught fire. His mind flamed with the idea of an Independent Ireland +resplendent with her ancient glories. He embraced no less eagerly the +thought of his father’s battle and his own part in it. Groping for +points of contact between the two enthusiasms, he caught at the +conception of the Roman Church as the Antichrist and her power in +Ireland as the point round which the fight must rage. Then with a sudden +flash he saw, not Rome, but the British Empire, as the embodiment of +the power of darkness. He had learned to think of it as a force, greedy, +materialistic, tyrannous, grossly hypocritical. What more was required +to satisfy the conception of evil that he sought for? He remembered +all that he had ever heard from Augusta Goold and her friends about the +shameless trickery of English statesmen, about the insatiable greed of +the merchants, about the degraded sensuality of the workers. He recalled +the blatant boastfulness with which English demagogues claimed to be +the sole possessors of enlightened consciences, and the tales of +native races exploited, gin-poisoned, and annihilated by pioneers of +civilization advancing with Bibles in their hands. + +But with all his capacity for enthusiasm there was a strain of weakness +in Hyacinth. More than once after the glories of an Independent Ireland +had been preached to him he had found himself growing suddenly cold and +dejected, smitten by an east wind of common-sense. At the time when he +first recognised the loftiness of his father’s religion he had revolted +against being called upon to adopt so fantastic a creed. So now, when +his mind grew weary with the endeavour to set an Armageddon in array, he +began to wish for a life of peaceful monotony, a place to be quiet in, +where no high calls or imperious demands would come to threaten him. +He ceased to toss to and fro, and gradually sank into a half-conscious +sleep. It seemed to him at the time that he was still awake, held back +from slumber by the great stillness of the country, that silence which +disturbs ears long accustomed to the continuous roar of towns. Suddenly +he started into perfect wakefulness, and felt that he was in possession +of all his faculties. The room where he lay was quite dark, but he +strained his eyes to see something in it. He listened intently, although +no sound whatever met his ears. A great overmastering fear laid hold on +him. He tried to reason with himself, insisting that there was nothing, +and could be nothing, to be afraid of. Still the fear remained. His +lips grew stiff and painfully hot, and when he tried to moisten them his +tongue was dry and moved across them raspingly. He struggled with the +terror that paralyzed him, and by a great effort raised his hand to his +forehead. It was damp and cold, and the hair above it was damp. He had +no way of knowing how much of the night had passed, or even how long he +lay rigid, unable to breathe without a kind of pain; but suddenly as it +had come the terror left him, left him without any effort on his part or +any reason that he recognised. Then the window of his room shook, and he +heard outside the low moan of the rising wind. Some heavy drops of rain +struck audibly on the roof, and the first gust of the storm carried to +his ears the sound of waves beating on the rocks. His senses strained no +more. His eyes closed, and he sank quietly into a long dreamless sleep. + +It was late when he woke, so late that the winter sky was fully lit. The +wind, whose first gusts had lulled him to sleep, had risen to a gale, +and the rain, mixed with salt spray, beat fiercely against his window +and on the roof. He listened, expecting to hear his father moving in the +room below, but within the house there was no sound. He rose, vaguely +anxious, and without waiting to dress went into the kitchen. Everything +lay untouched, just as he had left it the night before. The lamp and +the remnants of the meal were on the table. The two chairs stood side +by side before the hearth, where the fire which he had covered up +smouldered feebly. He turned and went to his father’s room. He could +not have explained how it was, but when he opened the door he was not +surprised to see the old man lying quite still, dead, upon the bed. His +face was turned upwards, and on it was that strange look of emotionless +peace which rests very often on the faces of the dead. It seemed +to Hyacinth quite natural that the soul as it departed into unknown +beatitude should have printed this for the last expression on the +earthly habitation which it left behind. He neither wondered nor, at +first, sorrowed very much to see his father dead. His sight was undimmed +and his hands steady when he closed the eyes and composed the limbs of +the body on the bed. Afterwards it seemed strange to him that he should +have dressed quietly, arranged the furniture in the kitchen, and blown +the fire into a blaze before he went down into the village to tell his +news and seek for help. + +They buried Æneas Conneally beside his wife in the wind-swept +churchyard. The fishermen carried his coffin into the church and out +again to the grave. Father Moran himself stood by bareheaded while the +clergyman from Clifden read the prayers and sprinkled the coffin-lid +with the clay which symbolized the return of earth to earth and dust to +dust. In the presence of death, and, with the recollection of the simple +goodness of the man who was gone, priest and people alike forgot for an +hour the endless strife between his creed and theirs. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +In Connaught the upper middle classes, clergy, doctors, lawyers, police +officers, bank officials, and so forth, are all strangers in the land. +Each of them looks forward to a promotion which will enable him to move +to some more congenial part of Ireland. A Dublin suburb is the ideal +residence; failing that, the next best thing is a country town within +easy reach of the metropolis. Most of them sooner or later achieve a +promotion, but some of them are so unfortunate as to die in their exile. +In either case their furniture and effects are auctioned. No one ever +removes his goods from Connaught, because the cost of getting things +to any other part of Ireland is exorbitant, and also because tables +and chairs fetch very high prices at auctions. Thus it happens that a +certain historic interest attaches to the furniture of most middle-class +houses west of the Shannon. The dispensary doctor dines off a table +which once graced the parlour of a parish priest. The inspector +of police boasts of the price he paid for his easy-chair, recently +upholstered, at the auction of a departing bank manager, the same +mahogany frame having once supported the portly person of an old-time +Protestant Archdeacon. It is to be supposed that the furniture +originally imported--no one knows how--into Connaught must have been of +superlative quality. Articles whose pedigree, so to speak, can be traced +for nearly a hundred years are still in daily use, unimpaired by changes +of scene and ownership. + +An auction of any importance is a public holiday. Clergy, doctors, +lawyers, and police officers gather to the scene, not unlike those +beasts of prey of whom we read that they readily devour the remains of +a fallen member of their own pack. The natives also collect +together--publicans and shopkeepers in search of bargains in china, +glass, and house-linen; farmers bent on purchasing such outdoor property +as wheelbarrows, scythes, or harness. + +When Hyacinth, to use the local expression, ‘called an auction’ shortly +after his father’s death, he was favoured with quite the usual crowd of +would-be buyers. Almost everyone with either money or credit within +a radius of twenty miles came into Carrowkeel for the occasion. The +presiding auctioneer had done his duty beforehand by advertising old Mr. +Conneally’s mouldy furniture as ‘magnificently upholstered’ suites, +and his battered editions of the classics as ‘a valuable library +of handsomely bound books.’ It is not likely that anyone was really +deceived by these announcements, or expected to find in the little +rectory anything sumptuous or splendid. The people assembled mainly +because they were exceedingly curious to see the inside of a house whose +doors had never been open to them during the lifetime of the owner. It +was always possible, besides, that though the ‘magnificently upholstered +suites’ existed only in the auctioneer’s imagination, treasures of +silver spoons or candlesticks plated upon copper might be discovered +among the effects of a man who lived as queer a life as Mr. Conneally. +When men and women put themselves to a great deal of inconvenience to +attend an auction, they do not like to return empty-handed. A day is +more obviously wasted if one goes home with nothing to show than if one +brings a table or a bedstead purchased at twice its proper value. Thus +the bidding at Hyacinth’s auction was brisk, and the prices such as gave +sincere satisfaction to the auctioneer. Everything was sold except ‘the +valuable library.’ It was in vain that the auctioneer made personal +appeals to Father Moran and the Rector of Clifden, as presumably the +two most learned gentlemen present. Neither of them wanted the venerable +classics. In fact, neither of them could have read a line of the crooked +Greek type or construed a page of the Latin authors. Even the Irish +books, in spite of the Gaelic revival, found no purchasers. When all was +over, Hyacinth wheeled them away in barrowfuls, wondering greatly what +he was to do with them. + +Indeed, the disposal of his library was not the chief of his +perplexities. He wondered also what he was to do with himself. When the +auctioneer sent in his cheque, and the London Committee of the Mission +had paid over certain arrears of salary, Hyacinth found himself the +possessor of nearly two hundred pounds. It seemed to him quite a large +fortune, amply sufficient to start life with, if only some suitable way +of employing brains, energy, and money would suggest itself. In order to +consider the important topic at his leisure, he hired the only lodging +in Carrowkeel--the apartment (it was both bed and sitting room) over Mr. +Rafferty’s public-house. The furniture had suffered during the tenancy +of a series of Congested Districts Board officials. An engineer, who +went to sleep in the evenings over the fire, had burnt a round hole in +the hearthrug. An instructor in fish-curing, a hilarious young man, +had cracked the mirror over the mantelpiece, and broken many ornaments, +including the fellow of the large china dog which now mourned its mate +on the sideboard. Other gentlemen had been responsible for dislocating +the legs of two chairs and a disorganization of the handle, which made +it impossible to shut the door from the inside. The chief glory of the +apartment, however, still remained--a handsomely-framed document, +signed by Earl Spencer, then Lord Lieutenant, ordering the arrest of the +present Mr. Rafferty’s father as a person dangerous to the Commonwealth. + +The first thing which brought Hyacinth’s meditations to a definite point +was a letter he received from Dr. Henry. + +‘I do not know,’ the professor wrote, ‘and of course I do not wish +to inquire, how you are situated financially; but if, as I suppose is +likely, you are obliged in the near future to earn your living, I may +perhaps be of some help to you. You have taken your B.A. degree, and are +so far qualified either to accept a post as a schoolmaster in an English +preparatory school or to seek ordination from some Bishop. As you are +probably aware, none of our Irish Bishops will accept a man who has +not completed his divinity course. Several English Bishops, however, +especially in the northern province, are willing to ordain men who have +nothing more than a University degree, always supposing that they pass +the required examination. I shall be quite willing to give you a letter +of recommendation to one of these Bishops, and I have no doubt that +a curacy could be found for you in one of the northern manufacturing +towns, where you would have an ample sphere for useful work.’ + +The letter went on to urge the advisability of Hyacinth’s suppressing, +disguising, or modifying his political opinions, which, stated nakedly, +were likely to beget a certain prejudice in the well-balanced episcopal +mind, and in any case would be quite out of place among the operatives +of Yorkshire or Lancashire. + +Hyacinth recognised and appreciated Dr. Henry’s kindness. He even tried +to bring himself to consider the offer seriously and carefully, but it +was no use. He could not conceive himself as likely to be either useful +or happy amid the hustling commercialism of the Manchester streets or +the staid proprieties of an Anglican vicarage. + +After he had spent about a week in his new lodging, Father Moran called +on him. The priest sat beside the fire for more than an hour chatting +in a desultory manner. He drank tea and smoked, and it was not until he +rose to go that the real object of his visit appeared. + +‘I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, Mr. Conneally, and maybe +I’ve no right to ask.’ + +‘I wouldn’t have the least objection to telling you,’ said Hyacinth, ‘if +I knew myself; but I haven’t my mind made up.’ + +The priest put down his hat again, and settled himself with his back to +the fire and his hands in his pockets. Hyacinth sat down, and during the +pause which followed contemplated the wonderful number and variety of +the stains on the black waistcoat in front of him. + +‘Then you’ve given up the idea of finishing your divinity course?’ said +the priest. ‘I’m not blaming you in the least. There’s men that studying +suits, and there’s men that it doesn’t. I never was much of a one for +books myself.’ + +He sighed heavily, perhaps at the recollection of his own struggles with +the mysteries of theology in his Maynooth student days. Then he walked +over and closed the door, returned, drew a chair close to Hyacinth, and +spoke in the tone of a man who imparts an important secret. + +‘Did you hear that Thady Durkan’s giving up the fishing? Since he broke +his arm he declares he’ll never step aboard the boat again. You know the +St. Bridget. She’s not one of the biggest boats, but she’s a very lucky +one. She made over five hundred pounds last year, besides the share the +Board took. She was built at Baltimore, and the Board spent over two +hundred pounds on her, nets and gear and all. There’s only one year more +of instalments to pay off the price of her, and Thady has the rest of +the men bought out. There’s nobody owns a stick or a net or a sail of +her except himself, barring, of course, what’s due to the Board.’ + +Hyacinth was sufficiently acquainted with the system on which the +Congested Districts Board provides the Connaught fishermen with boats +and nets to understand Father Moran’s rather involved statement +of Durkan’s financial position. He did not yet grasp why all this +information should have been conveyed to him in such a solemn and +mysterious tone. + +‘You might have the _St. Bridget_,’ said the priest, ‘for one hundred +and fifty pounds down.’ + +He paused to let the full glory of the situation lay hold upon Hyacinth. +Perhaps he expected an outburst of delight and surprise, but none came. + +‘Mind you,’ he said, ‘there’s others looking for her. The men that +worked with Thady are thinking of making him an offer, and I dare say +the Board would be glad enough to have the boat owned among them; but I +can put in a word myself both with Thady and the inspector. Faith, the +times is changed since I was a young man. I can remember when a priest +was no more thought of than a barefooted gossure out of a bog, and now +there isn’t a spalpeen of a Government inspector but lifts his hat to me +in the street. Oh, a note from me will go a good way with the Board, +and you’ll not miss the chance for want of my good word--I promise you +that.’ + +‘Thank you,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Mind you, there’s a good thing to be made out of her. But sure you know +that as well as I do myself, and maybe better. What do you say now?’ + +‘I’ll think it over,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and whatever comes of it I’ll be +greatly obliged to you.’ + +‘Well, don’t be delaying too long. And look you here’--his voice sank +almost to a whisper--‘don’t be talking about what I’ve said to you. +People are queer, and if Father Joyce down in Clifden came to hear +that I was working for a Protestant he’d be sure to go talking to the +Archbishop, and I’d never get to the end of the fuss that would be +made.’ + +‘Indeed, it’s very good of you, especially considering who I am--I mean, +my father being a convert, and----’ + +‘Say no more,’ said the priest--‘say no more. Your father was a good +man, Catholic or Protestant. I’m not one of these bitter kind of +priests, Mr. Conneally. I can be a good Catholic without hating my +neighbours. I don’t hold with all this bullyragging in newspapers about +“sourfaces” and “saved.” Maybe that’s the reason that I’m stuck down +here at the other end of nowhere all my life, and never got promotion +or praise. But what do I care as long as they let me alone to do my work +for the people? I’m not afraid to say it to you, Mr. Conneally, for you +won’t want to get me into trouble, but it’s my belief that there’s many +of our priests would rather have grand churches than contented people. +They’re fonder of Rome than they are of Ireland.’ + +‘Really, Father Moran,’ said Hyacinth, smiling, ‘if you go on like this, +I shall expect to hear of your turning Protestant.’ + +‘God forbid, Mr. Conneally! I wish you well. I wish you to be here among +us, and to be prosperous; but the dearest wish of my heart for you is +that I might see you back in the Catholic Church, believing the creed of +your forefathers.’ + +The priest’s suggestion attracted Hyacinth a great deal more than Dr. +Henry’s. He liked the sea and the fishing, and he loved the simple +people among whom he had been brought up. His experiences in Dublin had +not encouraged him to be ambitious. Life in the great world--it was thus +that he thought of the bickerings of the Dublin Nationalists and the +schoolboy enthusiasms of college students--was not a very simple +thing. There was a complexity and a confusion in affairs which made +it difficult to hold to any cause devotedly. It seemed to him, looking +back, that Miss Goold’s ideals--and she had ideals, as he knew--were +somehow vulgarized in their contact with the actual. He had seen +something of the joy she found in her conflict with O’Rourke, and it did +not seem to him to be pure or ennobling. At one time he was on the verge +of deciding to do what the priest wished. Walking day by day along the +shore or through the fields, he came to think that life might very +well be spent without ambitious or extended hopes in quiet toil and +unexciting pleasures. What held him back was the recollection, which +never ceased to haunt him, of his father’s prophecy. The thought of +the great fight, declared to be imminent, stirred in him an emotion so +strong that the peace and monotony he half desired became impossible. +He never made it clear to himself that he either believed or disbelieved +the prediction. He certainly did not expect to see an actual gathering +of armed men, or that Ireland was to be the scene of a battle like those +in South Africa. But there was in him a conviction that Ireland was +awakening out of a long sleep, was stretching her limbs in preparation +for activity. He felt the quiver of a national strenuousness which was +already shaking loose the knots of the old binding-ropes of prejudice +and cowardice. It seemed to him that bone was coming to dry bone, and +that sooner or later--very soon, it was likely--one would breathe on +these, and they would live. That contest should come out of such a +renaissance was inevitable. But what contest? Against whom was the new +Ireland to fight, and who was truly on her side? Here was the puzzle, +insoluble but insistent. It would not let him rest, recurring to his +mind with each fresh recollection of his father’s prophecy. + +It was while he was wearying himself with this perplexity that he got +a letter from Augusta Goold. It was characteristic of her that she had +written no word of sympathy when she heard of his father’s death, and +now, when a letter did come, it contained no allusion to Hyacinth’s +affairs. She told him with evident delight that she had enlisted no less +than ten recruits for the Boer army. She had collected sufficient money +to equip them and pay their travelling expenses. It was arranged that +they were to proceed to Paris, and there join a body of volunteers +organized by a French officer, a certain Pierre de Villeneuve, about +whom Miss Goold was enthusiastic. She was in communication with an +Irishman who seemed likely to be a suitable captain for her little band, +and she wanted Hyacinth back in Dublin to help her. + +‘You know,’ she wrote, ‘the people I have round me here. Poor old Grealy +is quite impracticable, though he means well. He talks about nothing +but the Fianna and Finn McCool, and can’t see that my fellows must have +riding lessons, and must be got somehow to understand the mechanism of +a rifle. Tim Halloran has been in a sulk ever since I told him what I +thought of his conduct at the Rotunda. He never comes near me, and Mary +O’Dwyer told me the other day that he called my volunteers a “pack of +blackguards.” I dare say it’s perfectly true, but they’re a finer kind +of blackguard than the sodden loafers the English recruit for their +miserable army.’ + +She went on to describe the series of Boer victories which had come one +after another just at Christmas-time. She was confident that the cause +of freedom and nationality would ultimately triumph, and she foresaw the +intervention of some Continental Power. A great blow would be struck at +the already tottering British Empire, and then--the freedom of Ireland. + +Hyacinth felt strangely excited as he read her news. The letter seemed +the first clear note of the trumpet summoning him to his father’s +Armageddon. Politics and squabbling at home might be inglorious and +degrading, but the actual war which was being waged in South Africa, +the struggle of a people for existence and liberty, could be nothing but +noble. He saw quite clearly what his own next step was to be, and there +was no temptation to hesitate about it. He would place his money at Miss +Goold’s disposal, and go himself with her ten volunteers to join the +brigade of the heroic de Villeneuve. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +The prospect of joining Augusta Goold’s band of volunteers and going to +South Africa to fight afforded Hyacinth great satisfaction. For two days +he lived in an atmosphere of day-dreams and delightful anticipations. He +had no knowledge whatever of the actual conditions of modern warfare. +He understood vaguely that he would be called upon to endure great +hardships. He liked to think of these, picturing himself bravely +cheerful through long periods of hunger, heat, or cold. He had visions +of night watches, of sudden alarms, of heart-stirring skirmishes, of +scouting work, and stealthy approaches to the enemy’s lines. He thought +out the details of critical interviews with commanding officers in +which he with some chosen comrade volunteered for incredibly dangerous +enterprises. He conceived of himself as wounded, though not fatally, and +carried to the rear out of some bullet-swept firing-line. He was just +twenty-three years of age. Adventure had its fascination, and the world +was still a place full of splendid possibilities. + +At the end of his two days of dreaming he returned, flushed with his +great purposes, to the realities of life. He went to Father Moran to +tell him that he would not buy Durkan’s boat. He laughed to himself +at the thought of doing such a thing. Was he to spend his life fishing +mackerel round the rocky islands of Connemara, when he might be fighting +like one of the ancient heroes, giving his strength, perhaps his life, +for a great cause? The priest met him at the presbytery door. + +‘Come in, Mr. Conneally--come in and sit down. I was expecting you these +two days. What were you doing at all, walking away there along the rocks +by yourself? The people were beginning to say that you were getting to +be like your poor father, and that nobody’d ever get any good out of +you. But I knew you’d come back to me here. I hope now it’s to tell me +that you’ll buy the boat you’ve come.’ + +They entered the house, and the priest opened the door of the little +sitting-room. Hyacinth knew it well. There was the dark mahogany table +with the marks burnt into it where hot dishes were set down, the shabby +arm-chair, the worn cocoanut-matting on the floor, the dozen or so books +in the hanging shelf, the tawdry sacred pictures round the wall. He had +known it all, and it all seemed unchanged since he was a child. + +‘Sit you down--sit you down,’ said the priest. ‘And now about the boat.’ + +‘I’m not going in for her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I’m as thankful to you for +suggesting it as if I did buy her. I hope you’ll understand that, but +I’m not going to buy her.’ + +He found it difficult to speak of his new plan to Father Moran. + +‘Do you tell me that, now? I’m sorry for it. And why wouldn’t you buy +her? What’s there to hinder you?’ + +Hyacinth hesitated. + +‘Well, now,’ said the priest, ‘I can guess. I thought the auction turned +out well for you, but I never heard for certain, and maybe you haven’t +got the money for the boat. Whisht now, my son, and let me speak. I’m +thinking the thing might be managed.’ + +‘But, Father Moran------’ + +‘Ah now, will you be quiet when I bid you? I haven’t the money myself. +Never a penny have I been able to save all my life, with the calls there +are on me in a parish like this. Sure, you know yourself how it is. +There’s one will have a cow that has died on him, and another will be +wanting a lock of potatoes for seed in the springtime; and if it isn’t +that, it’ll be something else. And who would the creatures go to in +their trouble but the old priest that christened and married the most +of them? But, indeed, thanks be to God, things is improving. The fishing +brings in a lot of money to the men, and there’s a better breed of +cattle in the country now, and the pigs fetch a good price since we had +the railway to Clifden, and maybe the last few years I might have saved +a little, but I didn’t. Indeed, I don’t know where it is the money goes +at all, but someway it’s never at rest in my breeches pockets till it’s +up and off somewhere. God forgive us! it’s more careful we ought to be.’ + +‘But, Father Moran, I don’t----’ + +‘Arrah then, will you cease your talking for one minute, and let me get +a word in edgeways for your own good? What was I saying? Oh, I was just +after telling you I hadn’t got the money to help you. But maybe I might +manage to get it. The man in the bank in Clifden knows me. I borrowed a +few pounds off him two years ago when the Cassidys’ house and three more +beside it got blown away in the big wind. Father Joyce put his name on +the back of the bill along with my own, and trouble enough I had to get +him to do it, for he said I ought to put an appeal in the newspapers, +and I’d get the money given to me. But I never was one to go begging +round the country. I said I’d rather borrow the money and pay it back +like a decent man. And so I did, every penny of it. And I think the bank +will trust me now, with just your name and mine, more especially as +it’s to buy a boat we want the money. What do you say to that, now?’ He +looked at Hyacinth triumphantly. + +‘Father Moran, you’re too good to me--you’re too good altogether. What +did ever I do to deserve such kindness from you? But you’re all wrong. +I’ve got plenty of money.’ + +‘And why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t you tell me so at once, +and not keep me standing here twisting my brains into hard knots with +thinking out ways of getting what you don’t want? If you’ve got the +money you’ll buy the boat. What better could you do with it?’ + +‘But I don’t want to buy the boat. I don’t want to live here always. I’m +going away out into the world. I want to see things and do things.’ + +‘Out into the world! Will you listen to the boy? Is it America you’re +thinking of? Ah, now, there’s enough gone out and left us lonely here. +Isn’t the best of all the boys and girls going to work for the strangers +in the strange land? and why would you be going after them?’ + +‘I’m not going to America. I’m going to South Africa. I’m going to join +some young Irishmen to fight for the Boers and for freedom.’ + +‘You’re going out to fight--to fight for the Boers! What is it that’s in +your head at all, Hyacinth Conneally? Tell me now.’ + +Again Hyacinth hesitated. Was it possible to give utterance to the +thoughts and hopes which filled his mind? Could he tell anyone about +the furious fancies of the last few days, or of that weird vision of +his father’s which lay at the back of what he felt and dreamed? Could +he even speak of the enthusiasm which moved him to devote himself to the +cause of freedom and a threatened nationality? In the presence of a man +of the world the very effort to express himself would have acted as some +corrosive acid, and stained with patches of absurdity the whole fabric +of his dreams. He looked at Father Moran, and saw the priest’s eyes lit +with sympathy. He knew that he had a listener who would not scoff, who +might, perhaps, even understand. He began to speak, slowly and haltingly +at first, then more rapidly. At last he poured out with breathless, +incoherent speed the strange story of the Armageddon vision, the hopes +that were in him, the fierce enthusiasm, the passionate love for +Ireland which burnt in his soul. He was not conscious of the gaping +inconsequences of his train of emotion. He did not recognise how +ridiculous it was to connect the Boer War with the Apocalyptic battle +of the saints, or the utter impossibility of getting either one or the +other into any sort of relation with the existing condition of Ireland. + +A casual observer might have supposed that Hyacinth had made a mistake +in telling his story to Father Moran. A smile, threatening actual +laughter, hovered visibly round the priest’s mouth. His eyes had a +shrewd, searching expression, difficult to interpret. Still, he listened +to the rhapsody without interrupting it, till Hyacinth stopped abruptly, +smitten with sudden self-consciousness, terrified of imminent ridicule. +Nor were the priest’s first words reassuring. + +‘I wouldn’t say now, Hyacinth Conneally, but there might be the makings +of a fine man in you yet.’ + +‘I might have known,’ said Hyacinth angrily, ‘that you’d laugh at me. I +was a fool to tell you at all. But I’m in earnest about what I’m going +to do. Whatever you may think about the rest, there’s no laughing at +that.’ + +‘Well, you’re just wrong then, for I wasn’t laughing nor meaning to +laugh at all. God forbid that I should laugh at you, and I meant it when +I said that there was the makings of a fine man in you. Laugh at you! +It’s little you know me. Listen now, till I tell you something; but +don’t you be repeating it. This must be between you and me, and go no +further. I was very much of your way of thinking myself once.’ + +Hyacinth gazed at him in astonishment. The thought of Father Moran, +elderly, rotund, kindly; of Father Moran with sugar-stick in his pocket +for the school-children and a quaint jest on his lips for their mothers; +of Father Moran in his ruffled silk hat and shabby black coat and baggy +trousers--of this Father Moran mounted and armed, facing the British +infantry in South Africa, was wholly grotesque. He laughed aloud. + +‘It’s yourself that has the bad manners to be laughing now,’ said +the priest. ‘But small blame to you if it was out to the Boers I was +thinking of going. The gray goose out there on the road might laugh--and +she’s the solemnest mortal I know--at the notion of me charging along +with maybe a pike in my hand, and the few gray hairs that’s left on the +sides of my head blowing about in the breeze I’d make as I went prancing +to and fro. But that’s not what I meant when I said that once upon a +time I was something of your way of thinking. And sure enough I was, but +it’s a long time ago now.’ + +He sighed, and for a minute or two he said no more. Hyacinth began +to wonder what he meant, and whether the promised confidence would be +forthcoming at all. Then the priest went on: + +‘When I was a young man--and it’s hard for you to think it, but I was a +fine young man; never a better lad at the hurling than I was, me that’s +a doddering old soggarth now--when I was a boy, as I’m telling you, +there was a deal of going to and fro in the country and meetings at +night, and drillings too, and plenty of talk of a rising--no less. +Little good came of it that ever I saw, but I’m not blaming the men that +was in it. They were good men, Hyacinth Conneally--men that would have +given the souls out of their bodies for the sake of Ireland. They would, +sure, for they loved Ireland well. But I had my own share in the doings. +Of course, it was before ever there was a word of my being a priest. +That came after. Thanks be to God for His mercies’--the old man crossed +himself reverently--‘He kept me from harm and the sin that might have +been laid on me. But in those days there were great thoughts in me, just +as there are in you to-day. Faith! I’m of opinion that my thoughts were +greater than yours, for I was all for fighting here in Ireland, for the +Poor Old Woman herself, and it’s out to some foreign war you’d be +going to fight for people that’s not friends of yours by so much as one +heart’s drop. Still, the feeling in you is the same as the feeling that +was in me, not a doubt of it. But, indeed, so far as I’m concerned, it’s +over and gone. I haven’t spoken to a mortal soul about such things these +thirty years, and I wouldn’t be doing it now only just to show you that +I’m the last man in Ireland that would laugh at you for what you’ve told +me.’ + +‘I’m glad I told you what’s in my heart,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I’d like to +think I had your blessing with me when I go.’ + +‘Well, you won’t get it,’ said Father Moran, ‘so I tell you straight. +I’ll give you no blessing when you’re going away out of the country, +just when there’s need of every man in it. I tell you this--and you’ll +remember that I know what I’m talking about--it’s not men that ’ll fight +who will help Ireland to-day, but men that will work.’ + +‘Work!’ said Hyacinth--‘work! What work is there for a man like me to do +in Ireland?’ + +‘Don’t I offer you the chance of buying Thady Durkan’s boat? Isn’t there +work enough for any man in her?’ + +‘But that’s not the sort of work I ought to be doing. What good would +it be to anyone but myself? What good would it be to Ireland if I caught +boatloads of mackerel?’ + +‘Don’t be making light of the mackerel, now. He’s a good fish if you get +him fresh, and split him down and fry him with a lump of butter in the +pan. There’s worse fish than the mackerel, as you’ll discover if you go +to South Africa, and find yourself living on a bit of some ancient tough +beast of an ostrich, or whatever it may happen to be that they eat out +there.’ + +In his exalted mood Hyacinth felt insulted at the praise of the mackerel +and the laughter in the priest’s eyes when he suggested a dinner off +ostrich. He held out his hand, and said good-bye. + +‘Wait, now--wait,’ said the priest; ‘don’t be in such a tearing hurry. +I’ll talk as serious as you like, and not hurt your feelings, if you’ll +stay for a minute or two. Listen, now. Isn’t the language dying on the +people’s lips? They’re talking the English, more and more of them every +day; and don’t you know as well as I do that when they lose their Irish +they’ll lose half the good that’s in them? What sort will the next +generation of our people be, with their own language gone from them, and +their Irish ways forgotten, and all the old tales and songs and tunes +perished away like the froth of the waves that the storm blew up across +the fields the night your father died? I’ll tell you what they’ll +be--just sham Englishmen. And the Lord knows the real thing is not the +best kind of man in the world, but the copy of an Englishman! sure, +that’s the poorest creature to be found anywhere on the face of God’s +good earth. And that’s what we’ll be, when the Irish is gone from us. +Wouldn’t there be work enough for you to do, now, if you were to buy +Thady Durkan’s boat, and stay here and help to keep the people to the +old tongue and the old ways?’ + +Hyacinth shook his head. His mood was altogether too heroic to allow +him to think highly of what the priest said to him. He loved the Irish +language as his native speech--loved it, too, as a symbol, and something +more, perhaps--as an expression of the nationality of Ireland. But it +did not seem to him to be a very essential thing, and to spend his life +talking it and persuading other people to talk it was an obscure kind of +patriotism which made no strong appeal to him--which, indeed, could not +stand compared to the glory of drawing the sword. + +‘You’ve listened to what I’ve told you, Father Moran, and you say that +you understand what I feel, but I don’t think you really do, or else you +wouldn’t fancy that I could be satisfied to stay here. What is it you +ask of me? To spend my time fishing and talking Irish and dancing jigs. +Ah! it’s well enough I’d like to do it. Don’t think that such a life +wouldn’t be pleasant to me. It would be too pleasant. That’s what’s the +matter with it. It’s a temptation, and not a duty, that you’re setting +before me.’ + +‘Maybe it is now--maybe it is. And if it’s that way you think of it, +you’re right enough to say no to me. But for all that I understand you +well enough. Who’s this now coming up to the house to see me?’ He went +over to the window and looked out. ‘Isn’t it a queer life a priest lives +in a place like this, with never a minute of quiet peace from morning to +night but somebody will be coming interrupting and destroying it? First +it’s you, Hyacinth Conneally--not that I grudge the time to you when +you’re going off so soon--and now it’s Michael Kavanagh. Indeed, he’s +a decent man too, like yourself. Come in, Michael--come in. Don’t be +standing there pulling at the old door-bell. You know as well as myself +it’s broken these two years. It’s heartbroken the thing is ever since +that congested engineer put up the electric bell for me, and little +use that was, seeing that Biddy O’Halloran--that’s my housekeeper, Mr. +Conneally; you remember her--poured a jug of hot water into its inside +the way it wouldn’t annoy her with ringing so loud. And why the noise +of it vexed her I couldn’t say, for she’s as deaf as a post every time +I speak to her. Ah, you’re there, Michael, are you? Now, what do you +want?’ + +A young farmer, black-haired, tall and straight, stood in the doorway +with his hat in his hand. He had brought a paper for Father Moran’s +signature. It related to a bull which the Congested Districts Board +proposed to lend to the parish, and of which Kavanagh had been chosen +to be custodian. A long conversation followed, conducted in Irish. The +newly-erected habitation for the animal was discussed; then the best +method of bringing him home from Clifden Station; then the kind of +beast he was likely to turn out to be, and the suitability of particular +breeds of cattle to the coarse, brine-soaked land of Carrowkeel. +Kavanagh related a fearful tale of a lot of ‘foreign’ fowls which had +been planted in the neighbourhood by the Board. They were particularly +nice to look at, and settings of their eggs were eagerly booked long +beforehand. Then one by one they sickened and died. Some people thought +they died out of spite, being angered at the way they had been treated +in the train. Kavanagh himself did not think so badly of them. He was of +opinion that their spirits were desolated in them with the way the rain +came through the roof of their house, and that their feet got sore with +walking on the unaccustomed sea-sand. However their death was to be +explained, he hoped that the bull would turn out to be hardier. Father +Moran, on his part, hoped that the roof of the bull’s house would +turn out to be sounder. In the end the paper was signed, and Kavanagh +departed. + +‘Now, there,’ said the priest, ‘is a fine young man. Only for him, I +don’t know how I’d get on in the parish at all. He’s got a head on his +shoulders, and a notion of improving himself and his neighbours, and it +would do you good to see him dance a jig. But why need I tell you that +when you’ve seen him yourself? He is to be the secretary of the Gaelic +League when we get a branch of it started in Carrowkeel. And a good +secretary he’ll make, for his heart will be in the work. I dare say, +now, you’ve heard of the League when you were up in Dublin. Well, you’ll +hear more of it. By the time you’re back here again---- Now, don’t be +saying that you’ll not come back. I’ll give you a year to get sick of +fighting for the Boers, and then there’ll be a hunger on you for the old +place that will bring you back to it in spite of yourself.’ + +‘Good-bye, Father Moran. Whatever happens to me, I’ll not forget +Carrowkeel nor you either. You’ve been good to me, and if I don’t take +your advice and stay where I am, it’s not through want of gratitude.’ + +The priest wrung his hand. + +‘You’ll come back. It may be after I’m dead and gone, but back you’ll +come. Here or somewhere else in the old country you’ll spend your days +working for Ireland, because you’ll have learnt that working is better +than fighting.’ + + + + +CHAPTER X + +When Hyacinth got back to Dublin about the middle of February, the +streets were gay with amateur warriors. The fever for volunteering, +which laid hold on the middle classes after the series of regrettable +incidents of the winter, raged violently among the Irish Loyalists. +Nowhere were the recruiting officers more fervently besieged than in +Dublin. Youthful squireens who boasted of being admirable snipe shots, +and possessed a knowledge of all that pertained to horses, struggled +with prim youths out of banks for the privilege of serving as troopers. +The sons of plump graziers in the West made up parties with footmen +out of their landlords’ mansions, and arrived in Dublin hopeful of +enlistment. Light-hearted undergraduates of Trinity, drapers’ assistants +of dubious character, and the crowd of nondescripts whose time is spent +in preparing for examinations which they fail to pass, leaped at the +opportunity of winning glory and perhaps wealth in South Africa. Those +who were fortunate enough to be selected were sent to the Curragh to +be broken in to their new profession. They were clothed, to their own +intense delight, in that peculiar shade of yellow which is supposed to +be a help to the soldier in his efforts not to be shot. Their legs were +screwed into putties and breeches incredibly tight round the knees, +which expanded rapidly higher up, and hung round their hips in +voluminous folds. Their jackets were covered with a multiplicity of +quaint little pockets, sewed on in unexpected places, and each provided +with a flap which buttoned over it. The name of the artist who designed +this costume has perished, nor does there remain any written record +of the use which these tightly-secured pocket-covers were supposed to +serve. Augusta Goold suggested that perhaps they were meant to prevent +the troopers’ money from falling out in the event of any commanding +officer ordering his men to receive the enemy standing on their heads. +‘In the light of the intelligence displayed by the English Generals up +to the present,’ she said, ‘the War Office is quite right to be prepared +for such a thing happening.’ + +It seemed possible to procure almost any amount of leave from the +Curragh, and the yeomen delighted to spend it in promenading the +fashionable streets of the metropolis. The tea-shops reaped a rich +harvest from the regal way in which they treated their female relatives +and friends. Indeed, their presence must have seriously disorganized the +occupations by which young women earn their living. It was difficult to +imagine that the sick in the hospitals could have been properly looked +after, or the letters of solicitors typewritten, so great was the number +of damsels who attached themselves to these attractive heroes. The +philosophic observer found another curious subject for speculation in +the fact that this parade of military splendour took place in a city +whose population sympathized intensely with the Boer cause, and was +accustomed to receive the news of a British defeat with delight. The +Dublin artisan viewed the yeomen much as the French in Paris must have +looked upon the allied troops who entered their city after Waterloo. +The very name by which they were called had an anti-national sound, and +suggested the performance of other amateur horse-soldiers in Wexford a +century earlier. + +The little band whose writings filled the pages of the _Croppy_ were +more than anyone else enraged at the flaunting of Imperialism in their +streets. They had rejoiced quite openly after Christmas, and called +attention every week in prose and poetry to the moribund condition of +the British Empire, even boasting as if they themselves had borne a part +in its humiliation. They were still in a position to assert that the +Boers were victorious, and that the volunteers were likely to do no more +than exhaust the prison accommodation at Pretoria. They could and did +compose biting jests, but their very bitterness witnessed to a deep +disappointment. It was not possible to deny that the despised English +garrison in Ireland was displaying a wholly unlooked-for spirit. No one +could have expected that West Britons and ‘Seonini’ would have wanted to +fight. Very likely, when the time came, they would run away; but in +the meanwhile here they were, swaggering through the streets of Dublin, +outward and visible signs of a force in the country hostile to the hopes +of the _Croppy_, a force that some day Republican Ireland would have to +reckon with. + +Augusta Goold herself was more tolerant and more philosophic than her +friends. She looked at the yeomen with a certain admiration. Their +exuberant youthfulness, their strutting, and their obvious belief in +themselves, made a strong appeal to her imagination. + +‘Look at that young man,’ she said to Hyacinth, pointing out a volunteer +who passed them in the street. ‘I happen to know who he is. In fact, I +knew his people very well indeed at one time, and spent a fortnight with +them once when that young man was a toddler, and sometimes sat on my +knee--at least, he may have sat on my knee. There were a good many +children, and at this distance of time I can’t be certain which of them +it was that used to worry me most during the hour before dinner. The +father is a landlord in the North, and comes of a fine old family. He’s +a strong Protestant, and English, of course, in all his sympathies. +Well, a hundred years or so ago that boy’s great-grandfather was +swaggering about these same streets in a uniform, just as his descendant +is doing now. He helped to drag a cannon into the Phoenix Park one day +with a large placard tied over its muzzle--“Our rights or----” Who do +you think he was threatening? Just the same England that this boy is so +keen to fight for to-day!’ + +‘Ah,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you are thinking of the volunteer movement of +1780.’ + +‘Afterwards,’ she went on, ‘he was one of the incorruptibles. You’ll +see his name on Jonah Barrington’s red list. He stood out to the +last against the Union, wouldn’t be bribed, and fought two duels with +Castlereagh’s bravoes. The curious thing is that the present man is +quite proud of that ancestor in a queer, inconsistent sort of way. Says +the only mark of distinction his family can boast of is that they didn’t +get a Union peerage. Strange, isn’t it?’ + +‘It is strange,’ said Hyacinth. ‘The Irish gentry of 1782 were men to be +proud of; yet look at their descendants to-day.’ + +‘It is very sad. Do you know, I sometimes think that Ireland will never +get her freedom till those men take it for her. Almost every struggle +that Ireland ever made was captained by her aristocracy. Think of the +Geraldines and the O’Neills. Think of Sarsfield and the Wild Geese. +Think of the men who wrenched a measure of independence from England in +1782. Think of Lord Edward and Smith O’Brien. No, we may talk and write +and agitate, but we’ll _do_ nothing till we get the old families with +us.’ + +Hyacinth laughed. It seemed to him that Miss Goold was deliberately +talking nonsense, rejoicing in a paradox. + +‘We are likely to wait, if we wait for them. Look at those.’ He waved +his hand towards a group of yeomen who were chatting at the street +corner. ‘They are going to stamp out a nation in South Africa. Is it +likely that they will create one here?’ + +‘It is not likely’--she sighed as she spoke--‘yet stranger things than +that have happened. Have you ever considered what the present English +policy in Ireland really is? Do you understand that they are trying to +keep us quiet by bribing the priests? They think that the Protestants +are powerless, or that they will be loyal no matter what happens. But +think: These Protestants have been accustomed for generations to regard +themselves as a superior race. They conceive themselves to have a +natural right to govern. Now they are being snubbed and insulted. There +isn’t an English official from their Lord Lieutenant down but thinks he +is quite safe in ignoring the Protestants, and is only anxious to +make himself agreeable to the priests. That’s the beginning. Very soon +they’ll be bullied as well as snubbed. They will stand a good deal of +it, because, like most strong people, they are very stupid and slow at +understanding; but do you suppose they will always stand it?’ + +‘They’re English, and not Irish,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I suppose they like +what their own people do.’ + +‘It’s a lie. They are not English, though they say it themselves. In the +end they will find out that they are Irish. Some day a last insult, a +particularly barefaced robbery, or an intolerable oppression, will awake +them. Then they’ll turn on the people that betrayed them. They will +discover that Ireland--their Ireland--isn’t meant to be a cabbage-garden +for Manchester, nor yet a _crêche_ for sucking priests. Ah! it will be +good to be alive when they find themselves. We shall be within reach of +the freedom of Ireland then.’ + +Hyacinth was amazed at her vehement admiration for the class she was +accustomed to anathematize. He turned her words over and over in his +mind. They recalled, as so many different things seemed to do, his +father’s vision of an Armageddon. Amid the confusion of Irish politics +this thought of a Protestant and aristocratic revolt was strangely +attractive; only it seemed to be wholly impossible. He bewildered +himself in the effort to arrange the pieces of the game into some +reasonable order. What was to be thought of a priesthood who, contrary +to all the traditions of their Church, had nursed a revolution against +the rights of property? or of a people, amazingly quick of apprehension, +idealistic of temperament, who time after time submitted themselves +blindfold to the tyranny of a single leader, worshipped a man, and asked +no questions about his policy? How was he to place an aristocracy who +refused to lead, and persisted in whining about their wrongs to the +inattentive shopkeepers of English towns, gentlemen not wanting in +honour and spirit courting a contemptuous bourgeoisie with ridiculous +flatteries? In what reasonable scheme of things was it possible to +place Protestants, blatant in their boasts about liberty, who hugged +subjection to a power which deliberately fostered the growth of +an ecclesiastical tyranny? Where amid this crazy dance of +self-contradictory fanatics and fools was a sane man to find a place on +which to stand? How, above all, was Ireland, a nation, to evolve itself? + +He turned with relief from these perplexities to the work that lay +before him. However a man might worry and befog himself over the +confused issues of politics, it was at all events a straightforward +and simple matter to fight, and Hyacinth was going to the front as the +eleventh Irish volunteer. + +To do Miss Goold justice, she had been extremely unwilling to enrol him, +and had refused to take a penny of his money. Her conscience, such as +it was after years of patriotic endeavour, rebelled against committing a +young man whom she really liked to the companionship of the men she had +enlisted and the care of their commander, Captain Albert Quinn. + +This gentleman, whom she daily expected in Dublin, belonged to County +Mayo. He represented himself as a member of an ancient but impoverished +family, boasted of his military experience, and professed to be +profoundly skilled in all matters relating to horses. Miss Goold’s +inquiries elicited the fact that he held an undefined position under +his brother, a respectable manufacturer of woollen goods. His military +experience had been gathered during the few months he held a commission +in the militia battalion of the Connaught Rangers, an honourable +position which he had resigned because his brother officers persistently +misunderstood his methods of winning money at cards. No one, however, +was found to deny that he really did possess a wonderful knowledge of +horses. The worst that Miss Goold’s correspondents could suggest with +regard to this third qualification was that he knew too much. None +of these drawbacks to the Captain--he had assumed the title when he +accepted the command of the volunteers--weighed with Miss Goold. Indeed, +she admitted to Mary O’Dwyer, in a moment of frankness, that if her men +weren’t more or less blackguards she couldn’t expect them to go out +to South Africa. She did not speak equally plainly to Hyacinth. She +recollected that he had displayed a very inconvenient kind of morality +when she first knew him, and she believed him quite capable of breaking +away from her influence altogether if he discovered the kind of men she +was willing to work with. + +She did her best to persuade him to give up the idea of joining the +force, by pointing out to him that he was quite unfitted for the work +that would have to be done. + +‘You know nothing about horses,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever +been on the back of one.’ + +Hyacinth admitted that this was true. The inhabitants of Carrowkeel +rarely ride their shaggy ponies, and when they do it is sitting sideways +just above the creatures’ tails, with two creels for turf or seaweed in +the place where the saddle ought to be. + +‘And I don’t suppose you know much about shooting?’ + +Hyacinth was depressed, for he had never pulled a trigger in his life. +In the West of Ireland a man is not allowed to possess a gun unless +a resident magistrate will certify to his loyalty and harmlessness. +Therefore, the inhabitants of villages like Carrowkeel are debarred from +shooting either snipe or seals, and the British Empire stands secure. + +The difficulty about his horsemanship Hyacinth endeavoured to get over. +He arranged with a car-driver of his acquaintance to teach him to groom +and harness his horses. The man possessed two quadrupeds, which he +described as ‘the yellow pony’ and ‘the little mare.’ Hyacinth began +with the yellow pony, the oldest and staidest of the two. The little +mare, who had a temper of her own, gave him more trouble. She disliked +his way of putting the crupper under her tail, and one day, to her +owner’s great delight, ‘rose the divil on them’ when her new groom got +the shaft of the car stuck through her collar. + +The want of experience in shooting was more difficult to get over. +Grealy owned an antiquated army rifle, which he lent to Hyacinth. +It was, of course, entirely different from the Mauser, and it was +impossible to get an opportunity for firing it off. However, there was +some comfort to be found in handling the thing, and taking long and +careful aim at a distant church spire through a window. + +In the face of such enthusiasm, Miss Goold could not refuse her recruit. +She talked to him freely about her plans, and was eloquent about the +spirit and abilities of M. de Villeneuve, who was to take charge of her +soldiers after they joined him in Paris. On the subject of Captain Quinn +she was much more reticent, and she refused altogether to introduce +Hyacinth to his ten fellow troopers. + +‘There’s not the least necessity,’ she said, ‘for you to meet them until +the time for starting comes. In fact, I may say it is safer for none of +you to know each other.’ + +Hyacinth experienced a thrill of agreeable excitement. He felt that he +was engaged in a real conspiracy. + +‘For fear of informers?’ he asked. + +‘Yes. One never can be quite sure of anyone. Of course, they can every +one of them give information against me. You can yourself, if you like. +But no one can betray anyone else, and as long as the men are safe, it +doesn’t matter what happens to me.’ + +It was one of Miss Goold’s weaknesses that she imagined herself to be an +object of hatred and dread to the Government, and nothing irritated her +more than a suspicion that she was not being taken seriously. + +The first glimpse that Hyacinth got of the character of the men among +whom he was to serve came to him through Tim Halloran. Tim was still +sore from the scolding he had been given for his conduct at the +Rotunda meeting, and missed no opportunity of scoffing--not, of course, +publicly, but among his friends--at Miss Goold and her volunteers. +Hyacinth avoided him as much as possible, but one evening he walked up +against him on the narrow footway at the corner of George’s Street. +Halloran was delighted, and seized him by the arm. + +‘You’re the very man I wanted to see,’ he said. ‘Have you heard about +Doherty?’ + +Hyacinth knew no one called Doherty. He said so, and tried to escape, +but Halloran held him fast. + +‘Not know Doherty! How’s that? I thought you were in all dear Finola’s +secrets. Faith! I heard you were going out to fight for the Boers +yourself. I didn’t believe it, of course. You wouldn’t be such a +fool. But I thought you’d know that Doherty is one of the ten precious +recruits, or, rather, _was_ one of them.’ He laughed loudly. ‘He’ll +fight on the other side now, if he fights at all.’ + +‘What do you mean?’ asked Hyacinth uneasily. + +He was not at all sure what view the authorities in Dublin Castle might +take of recruiting for the Boer service, and Miss Goold’s hints about +informers recurred to his mind alarmingly. Perhaps this Doherty was an +informer. + +‘Well,’ said Halloran, ‘I was in one of the police-courts this morning +doing my work for the _Evening Star_. You know I report the police news +for that rag, don’t you? Well, I do. My column is called “The Doom of +the Disorderly.” Rather a good title that for a column of the kind! +There didn’t appear to be anything particular on, just a few ordinary +drunks, until this fellow Doherty was brought in. I thought I recognised +him, and when I heard his name I was certain of my man. He hadn’t done +anything very bad--assaulted a tram-conductor, or some such trifle--and +would have got off with a fine. However, a military man turned up and +claimed him as a deserter. His real name, it appears, is Johnston. He +deserted six weeks ago from the Dublin Fusiliers.’ + +‘How on earth did he impose on Miss Goold?’ asked Hyacinth. + +Halloran looked at him curiously. + +‘Oh, I shouldn’t say he exactly imposed upon Finola. She’s not precisely +a fool, you know, and she has pretty accurate information about most of +the people she deals with.’ + +‘But surely------’ + +Halloran shrugged his shoulders. + +‘My dear fellow, I don’t want to shatter your ideal, but the beautiful +Finola wants to work a revolution, and you can’t do that sort of thing +without soiling your hands. However, whether he imposed on her or not, +there’s no doubt about it that he was a deserter. Why, it appeared that +the fool was tattooed all over the arms and chest, and the military +people had a list of the designs. They had a perfectly plain case, and, +indeed, Doherty made no defence.’ + +‘What will they do with him?’ said Hyacinth, still uneasy about the +possibility of Doherty’s volunteering information. + +‘I don’t know,’ said Halloran. ‘I should think the best punishment would +be to send him out to Ladysmith. I dare say the Boers would pass him +in if the circumstances were explained to them. By the way, it would be +rather funny if he met the other nine out there on a kopje, wouldn’t it? +He might take them prisoners, or they might capture him. Either way the +situation would have its comic possibilities.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Miss Goold lived that part of her life which was not spent at political +meetings or in the office of the _Croppy_ in a villa at Killiney. A +house agent would have described it as a most desirable residence, +standing in its own grounds, overlooking the sea. Its windows opened +upon one of the best of the many beautiful views of Dublin Bay. Its +half-acre of pleasure ground--attended to by a jobbing gardener once a +week--was trim and flowery. Its brown gate shone with frequently renewed +paint, and the drive up to the door was neatly raked. Inside +Miss Goold’s wants were ministered to by an eminently respectable +man-servant, his wife who cooked, and a maid. The married couple were +fixtures, and had been with Miss Goold since she started housekeeping. +The maids varied. They never quarrelled with their mistress, but they +found it impossible to live with their fellow-servants. Mr. and Mrs. +Ginty were North of Ireland Protestants of the severest type. Ginty +himself was a strong Orangeman, and his wife professed and enforced a +strict code of morals. It did not in the least vex Miss Goold to +know that her servants’ quarters were decorated with portraits of the +reigning family in gilt frames, or that King William III. pranced on a +white charger above the kitchen range. Nor had she any objection to her +butler invoking a nightly malediction on the Pope over his tumbler of +whisky-and-water. Unfortunately, her maids--the first three were Roman +Catholics--found that their religious convictions were outraged, and +left, after stormy scenes. The red-haired Protestant from the North who +followed them was indifferent to the eternal destiny of Leo XIII., but +declined to be dictated to by Mrs. Ginty about the conduct of her love +affairs. Miss Goold, to whom the quarrel was referred, pleaded the +damsel’s cause, and suggested privately that not even a policeman--she +had a low opinion of the force--could be swept away from the path of +respectability by a passion for so ugly a girl. Mrs. Ginty pointed out +in reply that red hair and freckles were no safeguard when a flirtation +is carried on after dark. There seemed no answer to this, and the maid +returned indignantly to Ballymena. She was succeeded by an anaemic and +wholly incompetent niece of Mrs. Ginty’s, who lived in such terror of +her aunt that peace settled upon the household. Miss Goold suspected +that this girl did little or no work--was, in fact, wholly unfit for her +position; but so long as she herself was made comfortable, it did not +seem to matter who tidied away her clothes or dusted her bedroom. + +Miss Goold, in fact, had so far mastered the philosophy of life as to +understand that the only real use of money is to purchase comfort and +freedom from minor worries. She had deliberately cut herself adrift from +the social set to which she belonged by birth and education, and so had +little temptation to spend her substance either in giving parties +or enjoying them. The ladies who flutter round the Lord Lieutenant’s +hospitable court would as soon have thought of calling on a music-hall +danseuse as on Miss Goold. Their husbands, brothers, and sons took +liberties with her reputation in the smoking-rooms of the Kildare Street +Club, and professed to be in possession of private information about +her life which placed her outside the charity of even their tolerant +morality. The little circle of revolutionary politicians who gathered +round the _Croppy_ were not the sort of people who gave dinner-parties; +and there is, in spite of the Gospel precept, a certain awkwardness +nowadays in continually asking people to dinner who cannot afford a +retributive invitation. Occasionally, however, Miss Goold did entertain +a few of her friends, and it was generally admitted among them that she +not only provided food and drink of great excellence, but arranged the +appointments of her feasts luxuriously. + +On the very day after his interview with Tim Halloran Hyacinth received +an invitation to dinner at the Killiney villa. Captain Quinn, the +note informed him, had arrived in Dublin, and was anxious to make the +acquaintance of his future comrade-in-arms. It seemed to Hyacinth, +thinking over the story of Doherty, unlikely that the whole corps would +be asked to meet their Captain round a dinner-table, but he hoped that +some of them would be there. Their presence would reconcile him to the +awkwardness of not possessing a dress-suit. Grealy, who had occasionally +dined at the villa, warned him that a white shirt-front and black +trousers would certainly be expected of him, and Hyacinth made an +unsuccessful effort to hire garments for the night which would fit him. +In the end, since it seemed absurd to purchase even a second-hand suit +for a single evening, he brushed his Sunday clothes and bought a pair of +patent-leather shoes. + +He arrived at the platform of Westland Row Station in good time for +the train he meant to catch. He was soon joined by Miss O’Dwyer, who +appeared with her head and neck swathed in a fluffy shawl and the train +of a silk skirt gathered in her hand. The view of several flounces of +nebulous white petticoat confirmed Hyacinth in his conjecture that she +was bound for Miss Goold’s party. No one who could be supposed to be a +member of Captain Quinn’s corps appeared on the platform, and Hyacinth +became painfully conscious of the shortcomings of his costume. He +thought that even Miss O’Dwyer glanced at it with some contempt. He +wished that, failing a dress-suit, he could have imitated the Imperial +Yeomen who paraded the streets, and donned some kind of uniform. His +discomfort reached a climax when Ginty received them at the door, passed +Miss O’Dwyer on to the incompetent niece, and solemnly extracted the new +shoes from their brown-paper parcel. + +Miss Goold stood chatting to Captain Quinn when Hyacinth entered the +drawing-room. She moved forward to meet him, radiant and splendid, he +thought, beyond imagination. The rustle of her draperies, the faint +scent that hung around her, and the glitter of the stones on her throat, +bewildered him. + +It was not till after he had been presented to his commander that he was +able to take his eyes off her. Then, in spite of his embarrassment, he +experienced surprise and disappointment. He had formed no clear idea +of what he expected Captain Quinn to be like, but he had a vague mental +picture of a furiously-moustachioed swashbuckler, a man of immense power +and hirsute hands. Instead, there stood before him a slim, small man, +clean shaved, with shiny black hair smoothly brushed. His clothes were +so well cut and his linen so glossy that he seemed fittingly placed even +beside the magnificent Finola. His hand, when Hyacinth shook it, seemed +absurdly small, and his feet, in their neat pumps, were more like a +woman’s than a man’s. Then, when he turned to resume his conversation +with his hostess, Hyacinth was able to watch his face. He noticed +the man’s eyes. They were small and quick, like a bird’s, and shifted +rapidly, never resting long on any object. His mouth was seldom closed, +and the lips, like the eyes, moved incessantly, though very slightly. +There were strange lines about the cheeks and jaws, which somehow +suggested that the man had seen a good deal of the evil of the world, +and not altogether unwillingly. His voice was wonderfully soft and +clear, and he spoke without a trace of any provincial accent. + +During dinner Captain Quinn took the largest share in the conversation. +It appeared that he was a man of considerable knowledge of the world. He +had been a sailor in his time, and had made two voyages to Melbourne +as apprentice in a large sailing-ship. His stories were interesting and +humorously told; though they all dealt with experiences of his own, he +never allowed himself to figure as anything of a hero. He recounted, +for instance, how one night in Melbourne Docks he had run from a +half-drunken Swede, armed with a knife, and had spent hours dodging +round the deck of a ship and calling for help before he could get his +assailant arrested. His career as an officer in the mercantile navy was +cut short by a period of imprisonment in a small town in Madagascar. +He did not specify his offence, but gave a vivid account of life in the +gaol. + +‘There were twenty of us altogether,’ he said--‘nineteen niggers and +myself. There was no nonsense about discipline or work. We just sat +about all day in an open courtyard, with nothing but a big iron gate +between us and liberty. All the same, there was very little chance +of escape. There were always four black soldiers on guard, truculent +scoundrels with curly swords. A sort of missionary man got wind of my +being there, and used to come and visit me. One day he gave me a tract +called “Gideon.” I read the thing because I had absolutely nothing else +to read. In the end it turned out an extremely useful tract, for it +occurred to me that the old plan for defeating the Midianites might +work with the four black soldiers. I organized the other prisoners, and +divided them into three bands. We raked up a pretty fair substitute +for pitchers and lamps. Then one night we played off the stratagem, and +flurried the sentries to such an extent that I got clear away. I rather +fancy one or two others got off, too, but I don’t know. I got into a +rather disagreeable tramp steamer, and volunteered as stoker. It’s so +difficult to get stokers in the tropics that the captain took his risks +and kept me. I must say I was sorry afterwards that I hadn’t stayed in +the gaol.’ + +The story was properly appreciated by the audience, and Hyacinth began +to feel a liking for the Captain. + +‘Do you know,’ said Miss Goold, when their laughter had subsided, ‘I +believe I know that identical tract. I once had an evangelical aunt, a +dear old lady who went about her house with a bunch of keys in a small +basket. She used to give me religious literature. I never was reduced to +reading it, but I distinctly remember a picture of Gideon with his mouth +open waving a torch on the front page. Could it have been the same?’ + +‘It must have been,’ said the Captain. ‘Mine had that picture, too. +Gideon had nothing on but a sort of nightshirt with a belt to it, and +only one sleeve. By the way, if you are up in tracts, perhaps you know +one called “The Rock of Horeb “?’ + +Miss Goold shook her head. + +‘Ah, well,’ said the Captain, after appealing to Mary O’Dwyer and +Hyacinth, ‘it can’t be helped, but I must say I should like to meet +someone who had read “The Rock of Horeb.” I once sailed from Peru in +an exceedingly ill-found little barque loaded with guano. We had a very +dull time going through the tropics, and absolutely the only thing to +read on board was the first half of “The Rock of Horeb.” There were at +least two pages missing. I read it until I nearly knew it off by heart, +and ever since I’ve been trying to get a complete copy to see how it +ended.’ + +Some of his stories dealt with more civilized life. He delighted Miss +Goold with an account, not at all unfriendly, of the humours of +the third battalion of the Connaught Rangers. He quoted one of Mary +O’Dwyer’s poems to her, and pleased Hyacinth by his enthusiastic +admiration of the Connemara scenery. Good food, good wine, and a +companion like Captain Quinn, gladden the heart, and the little party +was very merry when Ginty deposited coffee and cigarettes and finally +departed. + +In Miss Goold’s house it was not the custom for the ladies to desert +the dinner-table by themselves. Very often the hostess was the only lady +present, and she had the greatest dislike to leaving a conversation just +when it was likely to become really interesting. Moreover, Miss Goold +smoked, not because it was a smart or emancipated thing to do, but +because she liked it, and--a curious note of femininity about her--she +objected to her drawing-room smelling of tobacco. + +When Ginty had disappeared, and the serious business of enjoying the +food was completed, the talk of the party turned on the South African +campaign and the prospects of the Irish volunteers. Captain Quinn +displayed a considerable knowledge of the operations both of the Boers +and the British Generals. For the latter he expressed what appeared to +Hyacinth to be an exaggerated contempt, but the two ladies listened +to it with evident enjoyment. He delighted Miss Goold by his extreme +eagerness to be off. + +‘I don’t see,’ he said, ‘why we shouldn’t start to-morrow.’ + +‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question,’ said Augusta Goold. ‘M. de +Villeneuve arranged to send me a wire when he was ready for our men, and +I can’t well send them sooner.’ + +‘Ah,’ said the Captain, ‘but it seems to me the Frenchman is inclined +to dawdle. Don’t you think that if we went over it might hurry him up a +bit?’ + +She agreed that this was possible, but represented the difficulty of +keeping the men suitably employed in Paris for perhaps three weeks or a +month. + +‘You see,’ she said, ‘they are all right here in Dublin, where I can +keep an eye on them. Besides, they have all got some sort of employment +here, and I don’t have to pay them. I haven’t got money enough to keep +them in Paris, and they won’t get anything from Dr. Leyds until you have +them on board the steamer.’ + +Captain Quinn seemed satisfied, but later on in the evening he returned +to the subject. + +‘I can’t help feeling that it would be better for me, at all events, to +go over to Paris at once. I shouldn’t ask to draw any pay at present. I +have enough by me to keep me going for a few weeks.’ + +‘But what about the men? Will you come back for them?’ + +‘No, I think that would be foolish and unnecessary. There is no use in +attracting attention to our movements. We can’t have a public send-off, +with cheers and that sort of thing, in any case, or march through the +streets like those ridiculous yeomen. Our fellows have got to slip +away quietly in twos and threes. We can’t tell whether we’re not being +watched this minute.’ + +There was a note of sincerity in the Captain’s voice which convinced +Hyacinth that he was genuinely frightened at the thought of having a +policeman on his track. Miss Goold, too, looked appropriately solemn at +the suggestion. As a matter of fact, the authorities in Dublin Castle +did occasionally send a detective in plain clothes to walk after her. +It is not conceivable that they suspected her of wanting to blow up +Nelson’s pillar or assassinate a judge. Probably they merely wished to +exercise the members of the force, and, in the absence of any actual +crime in the country, felt that no harm could come to anyone through the +‘shadowing’ of Miss Goold. The plan, though the authorities probably did +not consider this, had the incidental advantage of gratifying the lady +herself. She was perfectly acquainted with most of the officers who were +put on her track, and was always in good spirits when she recognised one +of them waiting for her in Westland Row Station. Captain Quinn kept a +watch on her face with his sharp shifting eyes while he spoke, and he +was quick to realize that he had hit on a way of flattering her. + +‘You are a person, Miss Goold, of whose actions the Government is bound +to take cognisance. I dare say they have their suspicions of me, and if +you and I are seen together in Dublin during the next week or two there +will certainly be inquiries; whereas, if I go over to Paris at once, +there will be no reason to watch you or anybody else.’ + +Augusta Goold hesitated. + +‘What do you say, Mr. Conneally?’ she asked. + +Hyacinth was puzzled at this extreme eagerness to be off. A suspicion +crossed his mind that the Captain meditated some kind of treachery. He +made what appeared to him to be a brilliant suggestion. + +‘Let me go with Captain Quinn. I can start to-morrow if necessary. I +should like to see something of Paris; and you know, Miss Goold, I’ve +plenty of money.’ + +He thought it likely that the Captain would object to this plan. If +he meditated any kind of crooked dealing when he got to Paris, though +Hyacinth failed to see any motive for treachery, he would not want to be +saddled with a companion. The answer he received surprised him. + +‘Delightful! I shall be glad to have a friend with me. In the intervals +of military preparation we can have a gay time--not too gay, of course, +Miss Goold. I shall keep Mr. Conneally out of serious mischief. When we +have a little spare cash we may as well enjoy ourselves. We shan’t want +to carry money about with us in the Transvaal. We mean to live at the +expense of the English out there.’ + +Augusta Goold smiled almost maternally at Hyacinth. + +‘My dear boy,’ she said, ‘what seems plenty of money to you won’t go +very far in Paris. What is it? Let me see, you said two hundred pounds, +and you want to buy your outfit out of that. Keep a little by you in +case of accident.’ + +‘Well,’ said the Captain, ‘that’s settled. And if we are really to start +to-morrow, we ought to get home to-night. Mr. Conneally may be ready +to start at a moment’s notice, but he must at least pack up his +tooth-brush. May we see you safe back to town, Miss O’Dwyer? Remember, +we shall expect a valedictory ode in the next number of the _Croppy_. +Write us something that will go to a tune, something with a swing in it, +and we’ll sing it beside the camp fires on the veldt. Miss Goold’--he +held out his hand as he spoke--‘I’m a plain fellow’--he did not look in +the least as if he thought so--‘I’ve led too rough a life to be any good +at making pretty speeches, but I’m glad I’ve seen you and talked to you. +If I’m knocked on the head out there I shall go under satisfied, for +I’ve met a woman fit to be a queen--a woman who is a queen, the queen of +the heart of Ireland.’ + +It is likely that Augusta Goold, though she was certainly not a fool, +was a little excited by the homage, for she refused to say good-bye, +declaring that she would see the boat off next morning. It was a promise +which would cost her something to keep, for the mail steamer leaves at 8 +a.m., and Miss Goold was a lady who appreciated the warmth of her bed in +the mornings, especially during the early days of March, when the wind +is likely to be in the east. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Captain Quinn made himself very agreeable to Mary O’Dwyer during the +short journey back to Dublin. At Westland Row he saw her into a cab, +which he paid for. His last words were a reminder that he would expect +to have her war-song, music and all, sent after him to Paris. Then he +turned to Hyacinth. + +‘That’s all right. We’ve done with her. It was better to pay the cab for +her, else she might have scrupled about taking one, and we should have +been obliged to go home with her in a beastly tram. Come along. I’m +staying at the Gresham. It’s always as well to go to a decent place +if you have any money. You come with me, and we’ll have a drink and a +talk.’ + +There were two priests and a Bishop in earnest conference round the +fire in the hall of the hotel when they entered. When he discovered that +their talk was of the iniquities of the National Board of Education, and +therefore likely to last beyond midnight, Captain Quinn led the way into +the smoking-room, which was unoccupied. A sufficient supply of whisky +and a syphon of soda-water were set before them. The Captain stretched +himself in a comfortable chair, and lit his pipe. + +‘A fine woman, Miss Goold,’ he said meditatively. Hyacinth murmured an +assent. + +‘A very fine woman, and apparently pretty comfortably off. I wonder why +on earth she does it.’ + +He looked at Hyacinth as if he expected some sort of explanation to be +forthcoming. + +‘Does what?’ asked Hyacinth at length. + +‘Oh, all this revolutionary business: the _Croppy_, seditious speeches, +and now this rot about helping the Boers. What does she stand to gain by +it? I don’t suppose there’s any money in the business, and a woman +like that might get all the notoriety she wants in her own proper set, +without stumping the country and talking rot.’ + +This way of looking at Augusta Goold’s patriotism was new to Hyacinth, +and he resented it. + +‘I suppose she believes in the principles she professes,’ he said. + +The Captain looked at him curiously, and then took a drink of his +whisky-and-soda. + +‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s suppose she does. After all, her motives are +nothing to us, and she’s a damned fine woman, whatever she does it for.’ + +He drank again. + +‘It would have been very pleasant, now, if she would have spent the next +few weeks with me in Paris. You won’t mind my saying that I’d rather +have had her than you, Conneally, as a companion in a little burst. +However, I saw at once that it wouldn’t do. Anyone with an eye in his +head could tell at a glance that she wasn’t that sort.’ + +He sighed. Hyacinth was not quite sure that he understood. The +suggestion was so calmly made and reasoned on that it seemed impossible +that it could be as iniquitous as it appeared. + +‘There’s no one such an utter fool about women,’ went on the Captain, +‘as your respectable married man, who never does anything wrong himself. +I’d heard of Miss Goold, as everybody has, and listened to discussions +about her character. You know just as well as I do the sort of things +they say about her.’ + +Hyacinth did know very well, and flared up in defence of his patroness. + +‘They are vile lies.’ + +‘That’s just what I’m saying. Those respectable people who tell the lies +are such fools. They think that every woman who doesn’t mew about +at afternoon parties must be a bad one. Now, anyone with a little +experience would know at once that Miss Goold--what’s this the other +one called her? Oh yes, Finola--that Finola may be a fool, but she’s not +_that_.’ + +He pulled himself together as he spoke. Evidently he plumed himself, on +his experience and the faculty for judging it had brought him. + +‘Now, I’d just as soon have asked my sister-in-law to come to Paris with +me for a fortnight as Finola. You don’t know Mrs. James Quinn, I think. +That’s a pity. She’s the most domesticated and virtuous _haus-frau_ in +the world.’ + +He paused, and then asked Hyacinth, ‘Why are you doing it?’ + +Again Hyacinth was reduced by sheer surprise to a futility. + +‘Doing what?’ + +‘Oh, going out to fight for the Boers. Now, don’t, like a good fellow, +say you’re acting on principle. It’s all well enough to give Finola +credit for that kind of thing. She is, as we agreed, a splendid woman. +But you mustn’t ask me to believe in the whole corps in the same way.’ + +Hyacinth meditated a reply. It was clearly impossible to assert that +he wanted to fight for liberty, to give his life to the cause of an +oppressed nationality. It would be utterly absurd to tell the story of +his father’s vision, and say that he looked on the South African War +as a skirmish preliminary to the Armageddon. Sitting opposite to this +cynical man of the world and listening to his talk, Hyacinth came +himself to disbelieve in principle. He felt that there must be some +baser motive at the bottom of his desire to fight, only, for the life of +him, he could not remember what it was. He could not even imagine a good +reason--good in the estimation of his companion--why anyone should do so +foolish a thing as go out to the Transvaal. The Captain was not at all +impatient. He sat smoking quietly, until there seemed no prospect of +Hyacinth answering; then he said: + +‘Well, if you don’t want to tell me, I don’t mind. Only I think you’re +foolish. You see, little accidents happen in these affairs. There are +such things as bullets, and one of them might hit you somewhere that +would matter. Then it would be my duty to send home your last words to +your sorrowing relatives, and it would be easier to do that if I knew +exactly what you had done. The death-bed repentance of the prodigal +is always most consoling to the elder brother--much more consoling, in +fact, than the prodigal’s return. Now, how the deuce am I to make up a +plausible repentance for you, if I don’t know what you’ve done?’ + +‘But I’ve not done anything,’ said Hyacinth ineffectively. + +The Captain ignored him. + +‘Come, now, it can’t be anything very bad at your age. Have you got +into a mess with a girl? Or’--he brightened up at the guess--‘are +you hopelessly enamoured of the beautiful Finola? That would be most +suitable. The bold, bad woman sends the minstrel boy to his death, +with his wild harp slung behind him. I could draw tears from the +stoniest-hearted elder brother over that.’ + +If he could have thought of a crime at the moment, Hyacinth would +probably have confessed it; but he was bewildered, and could hit on +nothing better than: + +‘I have no elder brother--in fact, no relation of any sort.’ + +‘Lucky man! Now, I have a perfect specimen of a brother--James Quinn, +Esquire, of Ballymoy. He’s a churchwarden. Think of that! If it should +be your melancholy duty to send the message home to him--in case that +bullet hits me, I mean--tell him------ Oh, there’s no false pride about +me. Fill your glass again. I don’t in the least mind your knowing that I +wouldn’t go a step to fight for Boer or Briton either if it wasn’t for a +little affair connected with some horses and a cheque. You see, the War +Office people sent down a perfect idiot to buy remounts for the cavalry +in Galway and Mayo. He was the sort of idiot that would tempt an +Archbishop to swindle him. I rather overdid it, I’m afraid, and now the +matter is likely to come out.’ + +For all his boasted powers of observation, Captain Quinn failed to +notice the disgust and alarm on Hyacinth’s face. + +‘I stuck the fool,’ he went on, ‘with every old screw in the country. I +got broken-winded mares from the ploughs. I collected a regular hospital +of spavined, knock-kneed beasts, and he took them from me without a word +at thirty pounds apiece. It would have been all right if I had gone no +further. But, hang it all! I got to the end of my tether. I declare to +you I don’t believe there was another screw left in the whole county of +Mayo, and unless I took to selling him the asses I couldn’t go on. Then +I heard of this plan of your friend Finola’s, and I determined to make +a little coup and clear. I altered a cheque. The idiot was on his way to +an out-of-the-way corner of Connemara looking for mounted infantry cobs. +I knew he wouldn’t see his bank-book for at least a week, so I chanced +it. That’s the reason why I am so uncommonly anxious to get clear at +once. If I once get off, it will be next door to impossible to get me +back again. General Joubert will hardly give me up. I’m not the least +afraid of those ridiculous policemen who walk about after Finola. But +I am very much afraid of being tapped on the shoulder for reasons +quite non-political. I can tell you I’ve been on the jump ever since +yesterday, when I cashed the cheque, and I shan’t feel easy till I’ve +left France behind me. I fancy I’m safe for the present. The idiot is +sure to try fifty ways of getting his accounts straight before he lights +on my little cheque; and when he does, I’ve covered my tracks pretty +well. My dear brother hasn’t the slightest notion what’s become of me. +I dare say he’ll stop making inquiries as soon as the police begin. Poor +old chap! He’ll feel it about the family name, and so on.’ + +He smiled at his own reflection in the mirror over the chimneypiece. He +was evidently well satisfied with the performance he had narrated. Then +at last Hyacinth found himself able to speak. Again, as when he had +defeated Dr. Spenser in the college lecture-room, his own coolness +surprised him. + +‘You’re an infernal blackguard!’ he said. + +Captain Quinn looked at him with a surprise that was perfectly genuine. +He doubted if he could have heard correctly. + +‘What did you say?’ + +‘I said,’ repeated Hyacinth, ‘you are an infernal blackguard!’ + +‘Did you really suppose that I would be going on this fool of an +expedition if I wasn’t?’ + +‘I shall tell Miss Goold the story you have just told me. I shall tell +her to-morrow morning before the boat sails.’ + +‘Very well,’ said the Captain; ‘but don’t suppose for a moment that +you’ll shock Finola. She doesn’t know this particular story about me, +but I expect she knows another every bit as bad, and I dare say she will +regard the whole thing as a justifiable spoiling of the Egyptians. By +the way ‘--there was a note of anxiety in his voice--‘I hope you won’t +find it necessary to repeat anything I’ve said about the lady herself. +_That_ might irritate her.’ + +‘Is it likely,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I would repeat that kind of talk to +any woman?’ + +‘Quite so. I admire your attitude. Such things are entirely unfit for +repetition. But seriously, now, what on earth do you expect to happen +when you tell her? I’m perfectly certain that every single volunteer +she’s got is just as great a blackguard--your word, my dear fellow--as I +am, and Finola knows it perfectly well.’ + +Hyacinth hesitated. The phrase in Miss Goold’s letter in which she had +originally described her men as blackguards recurred to his mind. He +remembered the story of Doherty. His anger began to give way to a sick +feeling of disgust. + +‘Think, now,’ said the Captain: ‘is it likely that you could enlist a +corps of Sunday-school teachers for this kind of work? I’ll give you +credit for the highest motives, though I’m blest if I understand them; +but how can you suppose that there is anyone else in the whole world +that feels the way you feel or wants to act as you are doing?’ + +‘I dare say you are right,’ said Hyacinth feebly. + +‘Of course I’m right--perfectly right.’ + +Hyacinth tried to lift his glass of whisky-and-water to his lips, but +his hand trembled, and he was obliged to put it down. Captain Quinn +watched him wipe the spilt liquid off his hand, and then settle down in +his chair with his head bowed and his eyes half shut. + +‘Sit up, man,’ he said. ‘It’s all right. You’ve done nothing to be +ashamed of, at all events. But look here, you ought not to come with us +at all. It’s no job for a man like you. You back out of it. Don’t turn up +to-morrow morning. I’ll explain to Finola if she’s there, and if not +I’ll write her a letter that will set you straight with her. I’m really +sorry for you, Conneally.’ + +Hyacinth looked up at him. + +‘I’m sorry I called you a blackguard,’ he said. ‘You’re not any worse +than everyone else in the world.’ + +‘Nonsense,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘Don’t take it like that. From your +point of view you were quite right to call me a blackguard. And, mind +you, there are plenty of people in the world who aren’t blackguards. +There’s my brother, for instance. He’s a bit of a prig--in fact, he’s +as priggish as he well can be--but he’s never done anything but run +straight. I don’t suppose he could go crooked if he tried.’ + +Hyacinth got up. + +‘Good-night,’ he said, ‘and good-bye. I shan’t go with you.’ + +‘Wait a minute,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘I think I’ve done you one good +turn to-night in stopping you going to South Africa. Now I’ll do you +another, and one at the same time to that brother of mine. I left him +in a hurry. I told you that, but I don’t think I mentioned that I was in +his employment. He runs a woollen factory down in Mayo. I owned a +share in the business once, but that went long ago, and the whole thing +belongs to James now. I was a sort of clerk and general agent. I wasn’t +really the least use, for I never did any work. James was for ever +complaining, but I’m bound to say he stuck to me. I’ll give you a letter +to him, and I dare say you may get the job that I’ve chucked. It’s not +much of a thing, but it may suit you for a while. Sit down till I write +my letter.’ + +Hyacinth obeyed. Since his anger evaporated a sort of numbness had crept +over his mind. He scarcely understood what was said to him. He had a +vague feeling of gratitude towards Captain Quinn, and at the same time +a great desire to get away and be alone. He felt that he required to +adjust his mind to the new thoughts which had been crowded into it. When +he received the letter he put it into his pocket, and rose again to go. +The Captain saw him to the door. + +‘Good-bye.’ Hyacinth heard him, but his voice seemed far off, and his +words meaningless. ‘Take my advice and run down to Ballymoy at once. +Don’t hang about Finola any more. She’s a splendid woman, but she’s not +for you. If you married her you’d be perfectly miserable. Not that I +think she’d ever marry you. Still, she might. Women do such odd things. +If by any chance she does, you’ll have to be very careful. Give her her +head, and take her easy up to the jumps. Don’t try to hustle her, and +for God’s sake don’t begin sawing at her mouth. I’d very much like to be +here to see you in the character of Mr. Augusta Goold.’ He sighed. +‘But, of course, I can’t. The British Isles will be too hot for me for +a while. However, who can tell what might happen if I win a good medal +from old Kruger, and capture a few British Generals? I might act best +man for you yet, if you’ll wait a year or two.’ + +When Hyacinth got home to his lodgings the first object that met his eye +was Grealy’s ancient rifle. He tied a label round its barrel addressed +to the owner. Then he packed his few belongings carefully and strapped +his bag. So far he was sure of himself. He had no doubt whatever that he +must leave Dublin at once. He felt that he could not endure an interview +with Augusta Goold. She might blame him or might pity him. Either would +be intolerable. She might even justify herself to him, might beat him +into submission by sheer force of her beauty and her passion, as she had +done once before. He would run no such risk. He felt that he could not +sacrifice his sense of right and wrong, could not allow himself to be +dragged into the moral chaos in which, it seemed to him now, Miss Goold +lived. He was unconscious of any Divine leading, or even of any direct +reliance on the obligations of honour. He could not himself have told +why he clung with such desperate terror to his plan of escaping from his +surroundings. Simply he could not do certain things or associate as a +friend with people who did them. To get away from Dublin was the first +necessity. For a moment it occurred to him that he might go to Dr. +Henry, tell him the whole story, and ask for advice and help. But that +was impossible. How could he confess the degradation of his ideal? +How could he resist the inevitable reminder that he had been warned +beforehand? Besides, not even now, after all that he had seen, could he +accept Dr. Henry’s point of view. He still believed in Ireland, still +hoped to serve her, still looked for the coming of his father’s captain +to lead the saints to the final victory. Miss Goold had failed him, but +he was not yet ready to enrol himself a citizen of England. + +No, he must leave Dublin. But where to go? His lamp burnt dim and +expired as he sat thinking. His fire had long ago gone out. He shivered +with cold and misery, while the faint light of the dawn stole into his +room. He heard the first twitter of the birds in the convent garden +behind his lodging. Then came the noise of the earliest traffic, the +unnaturally loud rattle of the dust-carts on their rounds. A steamer +hooted far away down the river, and an early bell rang the neighbouring +nuns to prayer. Hyacinth grew desperate. Could he go home, back to the +fishing-boats and simple people of Carrowkeel? A great desire for the +old scenes seized upon him. He fought against it with all his might. He +had rejected the offer of the home life once. Now, no doubt, it would be +closed against him. The boat that might have been his was sold long ago. +He would not go back to confess himself a fool and a failure. + +Gradually his mind worked back over the conversation in the hotel with +Captain Quinn. The recollection of the latter part of it, which had +meant nothing at the time, grew clear. He felt for the letter in his +pocket, and drew it out. After all, why should he not offer himself to +James Quinn? Ballymoy was remote enough to be a hiding-place. It was in +County Mayo, the Captain had said. He had never heard of the place, and +it seemed likely that no one else, except its inhabitants, knew of it +either. At least, there was no reason that he could see why he should +not go there. His brain refused to work any longer, either at planning +or remembering. His lips formed the word Ballymoy. He repeated it again +and again. He seemed to go on repeating it in the troubled sleep which +came to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Irish get credit, even from their enemies, for being a quick-witted, +imaginative, and artistic people, yet they display astonishingly little +taste or originality in their domestic architecture. In Connaught, where +the Celtic genius may be supposed to have the freest opportunity +for expressing itself, the towns are all exactly alike, and their +resemblance consists in the absence of any beauty which can please +the eye. An English country town, although the English bucolic is +notoriously as stupid as an ox, has certain features of its own. So has +a Swiss cottage or a French village. It is possible to represent these +upon Christmas cards or the lids of chocolate-boxes without labelling +them English, Swiss, or French. Any moderately well educated young lady +will recognise them at once, and exclaim without hesitation, ‘How truly +English!’ or ‘How sweetly Swiss!’ But no one can depict an Irish town +with any hope of having it recognised unless he idealizes boldly, +introducing a highly-intelligent pig, or a man in knee-breeches kissing +a fancifully-attired colleen. And then, after all, he might as well have +labelled it Irish at once in good plain print, and saved himself the +trouble of drawing the symbolic figures. + +To describe Ballymoy, therefore, mountains, rivers, and such like +natural eccentricities being left out of the count, is to describe fifty +other West of Ireland towns. There is a railway-station, bleak, gray, +and windswept, situated, for the benefit of local car-owners, a mile and +a half from the town, and the road which connects the two is execrable. +There is a workhouse, in Ballymoy as everywhere else in this lost land +the most prominent building. There is a convent, immense and wonderfully +white, with rows and rows of staring windows and a far-seen figure of +the Blessed Virgin, poised in a niche above the main door. There is +a Roman Catholic church, gray-walled, gray-roofed, and unspeakably +hideous, but large and, like the workhouse and the convent, obtruding +itself upon the eye. It seems as if the inhabitants of the town must all +of them be forced, and that at no distant date, either into religion +or pauperism, just as small bodies floating in a pond are sucked into +connection with one or other of the logs which lie among them. The shops +in the one tortuous street block the footpaths in front of their doors +with piles of empty packing-cases. The passenger is saluted, here by a +buffet in the face from a waterproof coat suspended outside a draper’s, +there by a hot breath of whisky-laden air. Two shops out of every +three are public-houses. These occupy a very beautiful position in the +economic life of the town. Their profits go to build the church, to +pay the priests, and to fill the coffers of the nuns. The making of +the profits fills the workhouse. A little aloof stands the Protestant +church, austere to look upon, expressing in all its lines a grim +reproach of the people’s life. Beyond it, among scanty, stooped trees, +is the rectory, gray, as everything else is, wearing, like a decayed +lady, the air of having lived through better days. + +Such, save for one feature, is Ballymoy, as the traveller sees it, as +Hyacinth Conneally saw it when he arrived there one gusty afternoon. +The one unusual feature is Mr. James Quinn’s woollen mill. It stands, +a gaunt and indeed somewhat dilapidated building, at the bottom of the +street, in the angle where the river turns sharply to flow under the +bridge. The water just above the bridge is swept into a channel and +forced to turn the wheel which works some primitive machinery within. +In the centre of the mill’s front is an archway through which carts pass +into the paved square behind. Here is the weighbridge, and here great +bundles of heavy-smelling fleeces are unloaded. Off the square is the +office where Mr. Quinn sits, pays for the wool, and enters the weight +of it in damp ledgers. Here on Saturdays two or three men and a score of +girls receive their wages. The business is a peculiar one. You may bring +your wool to Mr. Quinn in fleeces, just as you sheer it off the sheep’s +back. He will pay you for it, more or less, according to the amount +of trouble you have taken with your sheep. This is the way the younger +generation likes to treat its wool. If you are older, and are blessed +with a wife able to card and spin, you deal differently with Mr. Quinn. +For many evenings after the shearing your wife sits by the fireside +with two carding-combs in her hands, and wipes off them wonderfully soft +rolls of wool. Afterwards she fetches the great wheel from its nook, and +you watch her pulling out an endless gray thread while she steps back +and forwards across the floor. The girls watch her, too, but not, as +you do, with sleepy admiration. Their emotion is amused contempt. +Nevertheless, your kitchen wall is gradually decorated with bunches of +great gray balls. When these have accumulated sufficiently, you take +them to Mr. Quinn. A certain number of them become his property. Out of +the rest he will weave what you like--coarse yellow flannel, good for +bawneens, and, when it is dyed crimson, for petticoats; or blankets--not +fluffy like the blankets that are bought in shops, but warm to sleep +under when the winter comes; or perhaps frieze, very thick and rough, +the one fabric that will resist the winter rain. + +This portion of his business Mr. Quinn finds to be decreasing year by +year. Fewer and fewer women care to card and spin the wool. The younger +men find it more profitable to sell it at once, and to wear, instead +of the old bawneens, shirts called flannel which are brought over from +cotton-spinning Lancashire, and sold in the shops. The younger women +think that they look prettier in gowns made artfully by the local +dressmaker out of feeble materials got up to catch the eye. If now and +then, for the sake of real warmth, one of them makes a petticoat of the +old crimson flannel, it is kept so short that, save in very heavy rain, +it can be concealed. Unfortunately, while these old-fashioned profits +are vanishing, Mr. Quinn finds it very hard to increase the other branch +of his business. The fabrics which he makes are good, so good that he +finds it difficult to sell them in the teeth of competition. The +country shops are flooded with what he calls ‘shoddy.’ An army of eager +commercial travellers pushes showy goods on the shopkeepers and the +public at half his price. Even the farmers in remote districts are +beginning to acquire a taste for smartness. Some things in which he used +to do a useful trade are now scarcely worth making. There is hardly +any demand for the checked head-kerchiefs. The women prefer hats and +bonnets, decked with cheap ribbons or artificial flowers; and these +bring no trade to Mr. Quinn’s mill. Still, he manages to hold on. The +Lancashire people, though they have invented flannelette, cannot as yet +make a passable imitation of frieze, and there is a Dublin house which +buys annually all the blankets he can turn out. It is true that even +there, and for the best class of customers, prices have to be cut so as +to leave a bare margin of profit. Yet since there is a margin, Mr. Quinn +holds on, though not very hopefully. + +Hyacinth left the bulk of his luggage--a packing-case containing the +books which the auctioneer had failed to dispose of in Carrowkeel--at +the station, and walked into Ballymoy carrying his bag. He had little +difficulty in making his way to the mill, and found the owner of it in +his office. It was difficult at first to believe that James Quinn could +be any relation to Captain Albert, the traveller, horse-dealer, soldier, +and thief. This man was tall, though he stooped when he stood to receive +his visitor. His movements were slow. His fair hair lay thin across his +forehead, and was touched above the ears with gray. His blue eyes were +very gentle, and had a way of looking long and steadily at what they +saw. A glance at his face left the impression that life, perhaps by no +very gentle means, had taught him patience. + +‘This letter will introduce me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is from your +brother, Captain, or Mr. Albert, Quinn.’ + +James Quinn took the letter, and turned it over slowly. Then, without +opening it, he laid it on the table in front of him. His eyes travelled +from it to Hyacinth’s face, and rested there. It was some time before he +spoke, and then it was to correct Hyacinth upon a trivial point. + +‘My half-brother,’ he said. ‘My father married twice, and Albert is the +son of his second wife. You may have noticed that he is a great deal +younger than I am.’ + +‘He looks younger, certainly,’ said Hyacinth, for the other was waiting +for a reply. + +‘Nearly twenty years younger. Albert is only just thirty.’ + +The exact age of the Captain was uninteresting and seemed to be beside +the purpose of the visit. Hyacinth shifted his chair and fidgeted, +uncertain what to do or say next. + +‘Albert gave you this letter to me. Is he a friend of yours?’ + +‘No.’ + +James Quinn looked at him again steadily. It seemed--but this may have +been fancy--that there was a kindlier expression in his eyes after the +emphatic repudiation of friendship with Albert. At length he took up the +letter, and read it through slowly. + +‘Why did my brother give you this letter?’ + +The question was a puzzling one. Hyacinth had never thought of trying +to understand the Captain’s motives. Then the conversation in the hotel +recurred to him. + +‘He said that he wanted to do a good turn to me and to you also.’ + +‘What had you done for him?’ + +‘Nothing whatever.’ + +Apparently James Quinn was not in the least vexed at the brevity of +the answers he received, or disturbed because his cross-examination was +obviously disagreeable to Hyacinth. + +‘In this letter,’ he went on, referring to the document as he spoke, +‘he describes you as a young man who is “certainly honest, probably +religious, and possibly intelligent.” I presume you know my brother, and +if you do, you may be surprised to hear that I am quite prepared to take +his word for all this. I have very seldom known Albert to tell me lies, +and I don’t know why he should want to deceive me in this case. Still, +I am a little puzzled to account for his giving you the letter. Can you +add nothing in the way of explanation to what you have said?’ + +‘I don’t know that I can,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Will you tell me how you met my brother, and what he is doing now, or +where he is?’ + +‘I do not think I should be justified in doing so.’ + +‘Ah, well! I can understand that in certain circumstances Albert would +be very grateful to a man who would hold his tongue. He might be quite +willing to do you a good turn if you undertook to answer no questions +about him.’ + +He smiled as he spoke, a little grimly, but there was laughter lurking +in the corners of his eyes. A Puritan will sometimes smile in such a +way at the thought of a sinful situation, too solemn to be laughed +at openly, but appealing to a not entirely atrophied sense of humour. +Hyacinth felt reassured. + +‘Indeed,’ he said, ‘I made no promise of silence. It is only that--well, +I don’t think----’ + +James Quinn waited patiently for the conclusion of the sentence, but +Hyacinth never arrived at it. + +‘In this letter,’ he said at last, ‘my brother asks me to give you the +place he lately held in my business. Now, I don’t want to press you to +say anything you don’t want to, but before we go further I must ask you +this, Were you implicated in the affair yourself?’ + +‘I beg your pardon. I don’t quite understand what you mean.’ + +‘Well, I suppose that since my brother is anxious that you should hold +your tongue, he has done something that won’t bear talking about. Were +you implicated in--in whatever the trouble was?’ + +‘Certainly not,’ said Hyacinth. ‘In fact, it was on account of what you +speak of as “trouble” that I declined to have anything more to do with +your brother.’ + +‘That is probably very much to your credit, and, in the light of my +brother’s estimate of your character, I may say that I entirely believe +what you say. Am I to understand that you are an applicant for the post +in my business which Albert held, and which this letter tells me I may +consider vacant?’ + +‘That is what brought me down here,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Have you any other recommendations or testimonials as to character to +show me?’ + +‘No. But there are several people who would answer questions about me if +you wrote to them: Dr. Henry, of Trinity College, would, or Miss Augusta +Goold, or Father Moran, of Carrowkeel, in County Galway.’ + +‘You have given me the most remarkable list of references I ever came +across in my life. I don’t suppose anyone ever before was recommended +for a post by a Protestant divinity professor, a notoriously violent +political agitator, a Roman Catholic priest, and a--well, we won’t +describe my brother. How do you come to be mixed up with all these +people? Who are you?’ + +‘I am the son of Æneas Conneally, Rector of Carrowkeel, who died last +Christmas.’ + +‘Well,’ said James Quinn, ‘I suppose if all these people are prepared +to recommend you, your character must be all right. Now, tell me, do you +know what the post is you are applying for?’ + +‘No,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And I may as well say that I have had no +experience or business training whatever.’ + +‘So I should suppose from the way you have come to me. Well, my brother +was clerk and traveller for my business. He was supposed to help me to +keep accounts and to push the sale of my goods among the shopkeepers +in Connaught. As a matter of fact, he never did either the one or the +other. When he was at home he did nothing. When he was on the road +he bought and sold horses. I paid him eighty pounds a year and his +travelling expenses. I also promised him a percentage on the profits of +the sales he effected. Now, do you think this work would suit you?’ + +‘I might not be able to do it,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but I should very much +like to be allowed to try. I can understand that I shall be very little +use at first, and I am willing to work without any salary for a time, +perhaps six months, until I have learned something about your business.’ + +‘Come, now, that’s a business-like offer. I’ll give you a trial, if it +was only for the sake of your list of references. I won’t keep you six +months without paying you if you turn out to be any good at all. And I +think there must be something in you, for you’ve gone about getting this +job in the queerest way I ever heard of. Would you like any time to make +up your mind finally before accepting the post?’ + +‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I accept at once.’ + +They walked together through the mill, and looked at the machines and +the workers. The girls smiled when Mr. Quinn stopped to speak to them, +and looked with frank curiosity at Hyacinth. The three or four men who +did the heavier work stopped and chatted for a few minutes when they +came to them. Evidently there was no soreness or distrust here between +the employer and the employed. When they had gone through the rooms +where the work was going on, they climbed a staircase like a ladder, and +came to the loft where the wool was stored. Hyacinth handled it as he +was directed, and endeavoured to appreciate the difference between the +good and the inferior qualities. They passed by an unglazed window at +the back of the mill, and Mr. Quinn pointed out his own house. It stood +among trees and shrubs, now for the most part bare, but giving promise +of shady privacy in summertime. Long windows opened out on to a lawn +stretching down to the watercourse which fed the millwheel. A gravel +path skirted one side of the house leading to a bridge, and thence to +a doorway in a high wall, beyond which lay the road. As they looked +the door opened, and a woman with two little girls came through. They +crossed the bridge, and walked up to the house. + +‘That is my wife,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘and my two little girls.’ + +He stretched out between the bars of the window, and shouted to them. +All three looked back. Mrs. Quinn waved her hand, and the two children +shouted in reply. Then a light appeared in one of the windows, and +Hyacinth caught a glimpse of a trim maid-servant pulling the curtains +across it. + +‘We shall be having tea at half-past six,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘Will you +come and join us? By the way, where are you staying?’ + +Hyacinth accepted the invitation, and confessed that he had not as yet +looked for any place to lay his head. + +‘Ah! Better go to the hotel for to-night. It’s not much of a place, +but you will have to learn to put up with that sort of accommodation. +Tomorrow we’ll try and find you some decent lodgings.’ + +The hotel struck even Hyacinth as of inferior quality, though it +boasted great things in the timetable advertisements, and called itself +‘Imperial’ in large gold letters above its door. A smell of whisky and +tobacco greeted him as he entered, and a waiter with a greasy coat, in +answer to inquiries about a bed, sent him down a dark passage to seek +a lady called Miss Sweeney at the bar. Large leather cases with broad +straps and waterproof-covered baskets blocked the passage, and Hyacinth +stumbled among them for some time before he discovered Miss Sweeney +reading a periodical called _Spicy Bits_ among her whisky-bottles. +She was a young woman of would-be fashionable appearance, and acted +apparently in the double capacity of barmaid and clerk. On hearing that +Hyacinth required, not whisky, but a bedroom, she requested him to go +forward to the office, indicating a glass case at the far end of the bar +counter. Here he repeated his request to her through a small opening in +the glass, and received her assurance, given with great condescension, +that No. 42 was vacant, and, further, that there was a fire in the +commercial room. A boy whom she summoned carried Hyacinth’s bag to an +extremely dirty and ill-furnished bedroom, and afterwards conducted +him to the promised fire. Two other guests were seated at it when he +entered, who, after a long stare, made room for him. Apparently there +was no one else stopping in the hotel, and the whole mass of cumbrous +baggage which blocked the passage to the bar must belong to them. +Hyacinth realized, with a feeling of disgust which he could +not account for, that these were two members of his new +profession--fellow-travellers in the voyages of commerce. He +gathered--for they talked loudly, without regarding his presence--that +they represented two Manchester firms which were rivals in the wholesale +drapery business. Very much of what they said was unintelligible to him, +though the words were familiar. He knew that ‘lines’ could be ‘quoted,’ +but not apparently in the same sense in which they discussed these +operations, and it puzzled him to hear of muslins being ‘done at one and +seven-eighths.’ He sat for a time wondering at the waste of money and +energy involved in sending these men to remote corners of Ireland to +search for customers. Then he left them, and made his way down the muddy +street to Mr. Quinn’s house. + +The room into which he was shown was different from any he had ever +seen. It was lit by a single lamp with a dull glass globe and a turf +fire which burnt brightly. Two straight-backed, leather-covered chairs +stood one on either side of the tiled hearth. Near one stood a little +table covered with neatly-arranged books, and, rising from among them, +a reading-lamp, as yet unlit. Beyond the other was a work-table +strewed with reels and scissors, on which lay a child’s frock and some +stockings. The table was laid for tea. On it were plates piled up with +floury scones, delicate beleek saucers full of butter patted thin into +the shapes of shells, and jam in coloured glass dishes cased in silver +filigree. A large home-baked loaf of soda bread on a wooden platter +stood at one end of the table, and near it a sponge-cake. At the other +end was an array of cups and saucers with silver spoons that glittered, +a jug of cream, and one of milk. Two of the cups were larger than the +others, and had those curious bars across them which are designed to +save men from wetting their moustaches when they drink. No room and no +preparation for a meal could have offered a more striking contrast to +Augusta Goold’s dining-room, her groups of wineglasses, multiplicity of +heavy-handled knives and forks, and her candles shrouded in silk. Nor +was the dainty neatness less remote from the cracked delf and huddled +sordidness of his old home. + +Long before Hyacinth had realized an impression of the scene before him +Mrs. Quinn greeted him, and led him to the fire. Her two little girls, +who lay on the hearthrug with a picture-book between them, were bidden +to make room for him. When her husband appeared she bustled off, and in +a minute or two she and the maid came in bringing toast and tea and hot +water hissing in a silver urn. + +As the evening passed Hyacinth began to realize that he had entered into +a home of peace. He felt that these people were neither greatly anxious +to be rich nor much afraid of being poor. They seemed in no way fretted +that there were others higher in the social scale, cleverer or more +brilliant than they were. He understood that they were both of them +religious in a way quite different from any he had known. They neither +spoke of mysteries, like his father, nor were eager about disputings, +like the men who had been his fellow-students. They were living a very +simple life, of which faith and a wide charity formed a part as natural +as eating or sleeping. When the children’s bedtime came it seemed to +him a very wonderful thing that they should kneel in turns beside their +father’s knee and say their prayers aloud, when he, a stranger, was in +the room. It seemed to him less strange, because then he had been two +hours longer in the company of the Quinns, that before leaving he, +too, should kneel beside his hostess and listen while his new employer +repeated the familiar words of some of the old collects he had heard his +father read in church. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +On Sunday, the third day after his arrival in Ballymoy, Hyacinth went to +church. He could hardly have avoided doing so, even if he had wanted to, +for Mrs. Quinn invited him to share her pew. There was no real necessity +for such hospitality, for the church was never, even under the most +favourable circumstances, more than half full. The four front seats were +reserved for a Mr. Stack, on whose property the town of Ballymoy stood. +But this gentleman preferred to live in Surrey, and even when he came +over to Ireland for the shooting rarely honoured the church with his +presence. A stone tablet, bearing the name of this magnate’s father, a +Cork pawnbroker, who had purchased the property for a small sum under +the Encumbered Estates Court Act, adorned the wall beside the pulpit. +The management of the property was in the hands of a Dublin firm, so +the parish was deprived of the privilege of a resident land agent. The +doctor, recently appointed to the district, was a Roman Catholic of +plebeian antecedents, which reduced the resident gentry of Ballymoy +to the Quinns, a bank manager, and the Rector, Canon Beecher. A few +farmers, Mr. Stack’s gamekeeper, and the landlady of the Imperial Hotel, +made up the rest of the congregation. + +The service was not of a very attractive or inspiriting kind. Canon +Beecher--his title was a purely honorary one, not even involving the +duty of preaching in the unpretending building which, in virtue of +some forgotten history, was dignified with the name of Killinacoff +Cathedral--read slowly with somewhat ponderous emphasis. His thirty +years in Holy Orders had slightly hardened an originally luscious Dublin +brogue, but there remained a certain gentle aspiration of the _d’s_ and +_t’s_, and a tendency to omit the labial consonants altogether. He read +an immense number of prayers, gathering, as it seemed to Hyacinth, the +longest ones from the four corners of the Prayer-Book. At intervals he +allowed himself to be interrupted with a hymn, but resumed afterwards +the steady flow of supplication. The eldest Miss Beecher--the Canon had +altogether two daughters and three sons--played a harmonium. The other +girl and the three boys, with the assistance of an uncertain bass from +Mr. Quinn, gave utterance to the congregation’s praise. Hyacinth tried +to join in the first hymn, which happened to be familiar to him, but +quavered into silence towards the end of the second verse, discovering +that the eyes of Mrs. Beecher from her pew, of the Canon from the +reading-desk, of the vocal Miss Beecher and her brothers, were fixed +upon him. The sermon proved to be long and uninteresting. It was about +Melchizedek, and was so far appropriate to the Priest and King that it +had no recognisable beginning and need not apparently have ever had an +end. Perhaps no one, unless he were specially trained for the purpose, +could have followed right through the quiet meanderings of the Canon’s +thought. This kind of sermon, however, has the one advantage that +the listener can take it up and drop it again at any point without +inconvenience, and Hyacinth was able to give his attention to some +sections of it. There was no attempt at eloquence or any kind of +learning displayed, but he understood, as he listened, where the Quinns +got their religion, or at least how their religion was kept alive. +Certain very simple things were reiterated with a quiet earnestness +which left no doubt that the preacher believed exactly what he said, and +lived by the light of his faith. + +One evening shortly afterwards Canon Beecher called upon Hyacinth. The +conversation during the visit resolved itself into a kind of catechism, +which, curiously enough, was quite inoffensive. The Canon learnt by +degrees something of Hyacinth’s past life, and his career in Trinity +College. He shook his head gravely over the friendship with Augusta +Goold, whom he evidently regarded as almost beyond the reach of the +grace of God. Hyacinth was forced to admit, with an increasing sense of +shame, that he had never signed a temperance pledge, did not read the +organ of the Church Missionary Society, was not a member of a Young +Men’s Christian Association, or even of a Gleaners’ Union. He felt, as +he made each confession sorrowfully, that he was losing all hope of the +Canon’s friendship, and was most agreeably surprised when the interview +closed with a warm invitation to a mid-day dinner at the Rectory on the +following Sunday. Mrs. Quinn, who took a sort of elder sister’s interest +in his goings out and comings in, was delighted when she heard that he +was going to the Rectory, and assured him that he would like both Mrs. +Beecher and the girls. She confided afterwards to her husband that the +influence of a Christian home was likely to be most beneficial to the +‘poor boy.’ + +The Rectory displayed none of the signs of easy comfort which had +charmed Hyacinth in the Quinns’ house. The floor of the square hall was +covered with a cheap, well-worn oilcloth. Its walls were damp-stained, +and the only furniture consisted of a wooden chair and a somewhat +rickety table. In the middle of the wall hung a large olive-green card +with silver lettering. ‘Christ is the unseen Guest in this house,’ +Hyacinth read, ‘the Sharer in every pleasure, the Listener to every +conversation.’ A fortnight before, he would have turned with disgust +from such an advertisement, but now, since he had known the Quinns +and listened to the Canon’s wandering sermons, he looked at it with +different eyes. He felt that the words might actually express a fact, +and that a family might live together as if they believed them to be +true. + +‘Yes,’ said the Canon, who had come in with him, and saw him gaze at it, +‘these motto-cards are very nice. I bought several of them last time I +was in Dublin, and I think I have a spare one left which I can give +you if you like. It has silver letters like that one, but printed on a +crimson ground.’ + +Evidently the design and the colouring were what struck him as +noticeable. The motto itself was a commonplace of Christian living, the +expression of a basal fact, quite naturally hung where it would catch +the eye of chance visitors. + +In the drawing-room Mrs. Beecher and her two daughters, still in their +hats and gloves, stood round a turf fire. They made a place at once for +Hyacinth, and one of the girls drew forward a rickety basket-work chair, +covered with faded cretonne. He was formally introduced to them. Miss +Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher had both, the latter very recently, +reached the dignity of young womanhood, and wore long dresses. The three +boys, who were younger, were made known afterwards. + +When they went into the dining-room the Canon selected the soundest of +a miscellaneous collection of chairs for Hyacinth, and seated him beside +Mrs. Beecher. Then the elder girl--Miss Beecher’s name, he learnt, was +Marion--entered in a long apron carrying a boiled leg of mutton followed +by her sister with dishes of potatoes and mashed parsnips. + +‘You see,’ said Mrs. Beecher, and there was no note of apology in her +voice as she made the explanation, ‘my girls are accustomed to do a good +deal of the house-work. We have only one servant, and she is not very +presentable when she has just cooked the dinner.’ + +Hyacinth glanced at Marion Beecher, who smiled at him with frank +friendliness, as she took her seat beside her father. He saw suddenly +that the girl was beautiful. He had not noticed this in church. There he +had no opportunity of observing the subtle grace with which she +moved, and the half-light left unrevealed the lustrous purity of her +complexion, the radiant red and white which only the warm damp of the +western seaboard can give or preserve. Her eyes he had seen even in the +church, but now first he realized what unfathomable gentleness and what +a wonder of frank innocence were in them. The Canon looked round the +table at his children, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eye when +he turned to Hyacinth and quoted: + +‘“Your sons shall grow up as young plants, and your daughters shall be +as the polished corners of the temple.”’ + +Perhaps nine-tenths of civilized mankind would regard five children as +five misfortunes under any circumstances, as quite overwhelming when +they have been showered on a man with a very small income, who is +obliged to live in a remote corner of Ireland. Apparently the Canon +did not look upon himself as an afflicted man at all. There was +an unmistakable sincerity about the way in which he completed his +quotation: + +‘“Lo! thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.”’ + +It dawned on Hyacinth that quite possibly the Canon’s view of the +situation might be the right one. It was certainly wonderfully pleasant +to see the girls move through the room, and it seemed to him that they +actually realized the almost forgotten ideal of serviceable womanhood. +The talk at dinner turned first on the ailments of an old woman who was +accustomed to clean the church, but was now suspected of being past +her work; then, by an abrupt transition, on the new hat which the +bank-manager’s wife had brought home from Dublin; and, finally, the +connection of thought being again far from obvious, on the hymns which +had been sung that morning. It was at this point that Hyacinth was +included in the conversation. Marion Beecher announced that one of the +hymns was a special favourite of hers, because she remembered her mother +singing the younger children to sleep with it when they were babies. She +caught Hyacinth looking at her while she spoke, and said to him: + +‘Do you sing, Mr. Conneally?’ + +‘I do a little.’ + +‘Oh, then you must come and help us in the choir.’ ‘Choir’ seemed a +grandiose name for the four Beechers and Mr. Quinn, but Marion, who had +little experience of anything better, had no misgivings. ‘I hope you +sing tenor. I always long to have a tenor in my choir. Why, we might +have one of Barnby’s anthems at Easter, and we haven’t been able to sing +one since Mr. Nash left the bank.’ + +Hyacinth had never sung a part in his life, and could not read music, +but he grew bold, and, professing to have an excellent ear, said he +was willing to learn. The prospect of a long series of choir practices +conducted by Marion Beecher seemed to him just then an extremely +pleasant one. + +After dinner, while the two girls cleared away the plates and dishes, +Canon Beecher invited Hyacinth to smoke. + +‘I never learnt the habit myself,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t so much the +fashion in my young days as it is now, but I have no objection whatever +to the smell.’ + +Hyacinth lit a cigarette apologetically. It seemed to him almost a +wicked thing to do, but his host evidently wished him to be comfortable. +Their talk after the girls had left the room turned on politics. +Hyacinth’s confession of his friendship with Augusta Goold had impressed +the Canon, and he delivered himself of a very kindly little lecture on +the duty of loyalty and the sinfulness of contention with the powers +that be. His way of putting the matter neither irritated Hyacinth, like +the flamboyant Imperialism of the Trinity students, nor drove him into +self-assertion, like Dr. Henry’s contemptuous reasonableness. Still, he +felt bound to make some sort of defence of the opinions which were still +his own. + +‘Surely,’ he said, ‘there must be some limit to the duty of loyalty. If +a Government has no constitutional right to rule, is a man bound to be +loyal to it?’ + +‘I think,’ said the Canon, ‘that the question is decided for us. Is it +not, Mr. Conneally? “Render unto Caesar”--you remember the verse. Even if +the Government were as unconstitutional as you appear to think, it would +not be more so than the Roman Government of Judaea when these words were +spoken.’ + +Hyacinth pondered this answer. It opened up to him an entirely new way +of looking at the subject, and he could see that it might be necessary +for a Christian to acquiesce without an attempt at resistance in any +Government which happened to exist. + +He remembered other verses in the New Testament which could be quoted +even more conclusively in favour of this passive obedience. Yet he felt +that there must be a fallacy lurking somewhere. It was, on the face of +it, an obvious absurdity to think that a man, because he happened to +be a Christian, was therefore bound to submit to any form of tyranny or +oppression. + +‘Suppose,’ he said--‘I only say suppose--that a Government did immoral +things, that it robbed or allowed evil-disposed people to rob, would it +still be right to be loyal?’ + +‘I think so,’ said the Canon quietly. + +Hyacinth looked at him in astonishment. + +‘Do you mean to say that you yourself would be loyal under such +circumstances?’ + +‘I prefer not to discuss the question in that personal way, but the +Church to which you and I belong is loyal still, although the Government +has robbed us of our property and our position, and although it is now +allowing our people to be robbed still further.’ + +‘You mean by the Disestablishment and the Land Acts?’ + +‘Yes. I think it is our great glory that our loyalty is imperishable, +that it survives even such treatment as we have received and are +receiving.’ + +‘That is very beautiful,’ said Hyacinth slowly. ‘I see that there is a +great nobility in such loyalty, although I do not even wish to share it +myself. You see, I am an Irishman, and I want to see my country great +and free.’ + +‘I suppose,’ said the Canon, ‘that it is very natural that we should +love the spot on earth in which we live. I think that I love Ireland +too. But we must remember that our citizenship is in heaven, and it +seems to me that any departure from the laws of the King of that country +dishonours us, and even dishonours the earthly country which we call our +own.’ + +Hyacinth said nothing. There flashed across him a recollection of +Augusta Goold’s hope that some final insult would one day goad the +Irish Protestants into disloyalty. Clearly, if Canon Beecher was to be +regarded as a type, she had no conception of the religious spirit of the +Church of Ireland. But was there anyone else like this clergyman? He did +not know, but he guessed that his friends the Quinns would think of the +matter in somewhat the same way. It seemed to him quite possible that in +scattered and remote parishes this strangely unreasonable conception of +Christianity might survive. After a pause the Canon went on: + +‘You must not think that I do not love Ireland too. I look forward to +seeing her free some day, but with the freedom of the Gospel. It will +not be in my time, I know, but surely it will come to pass. Our people +have still the simple faith of the early ages, and they have many very +beautiful virtues. They only want the dawn of the Dayspring from on +high to shine on them, and then Ireland will be once more the Island of +Saints--_insula sanctorum_.’ He dwelt tenderly on the two words. ‘I do +not think it will matter much then what earthly Government bears rule +over us. But come, I see that you have finished your smoke, and I must +go to my study to think over my sermon.’ + +When Hyacinth entered the drawing-room the girls surrounded him, asking +him for answers to a printed list of questions. It appeared that the +committee of a bazaar for some charity in which it was right to be +interested had issued a sort of examination-paper, and promised a prize +to the best answerer. The questions were all of one kind: ‘What is the +Modern Athens--the Eternal City--the City of the Tribes? Who was the +Wizard of the North--the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith? The earlier +names on the list presented little difficulty to Hyacinth. Marion +took down his answers, whilst Elsie murmured a pleasant chorus of +astonishment at his cleverness. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. ‘Who +was the Martyr of Melanesia?’ + +‘I have never heard of him,’ said Hyacinth. + +‘Never heard of the Martyr of Melanesia!’ said Elsie. ‘Why, we knew that +at once.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Marion, ‘there was an article on him in last month’s +_Gleaner_. Surely you read the _Gleaner_, Mr. Conneally?’ + +Hyacinth felt Marion’s eyes fixed on him with something of a reproach +in them. He wrestled with a vague recollection of having somewhere +heard the name of the periodical. For a moment he thought of risking +cross-questioning, and saying that he had only missed the last number. +Then he suddenly remembered the card with silver lettering which +hung above his coat in the hall, and told the truth with even a quite +unnecessary aggravation. + +‘No, I never remember seeing a copy of it in my life. I don’t even know +what it is about.’ + +‘Oh!’ said the girls, round-eyed with horror. ‘Just think! And we all +have collecting-boxes.’ + +‘It is a missionary periodical,’ said Marion. ‘It has news in it +from every corner of the mission-field, and every month a list of the +stations that specially need our prayers.’ + +Hyacinth left the Rectory that night with three well-read numbers of the +_Gleaner_ in his pocket. + +Afterwards he had many talks with Canon Beecher and the Quinns about +the work of the missionary societies. He learnt, to his surprise, that +really immense sums of money were subscribed every year by members of +the Church of Ireland for the conversion of the heathen in very remote +parts of the world. It could not be denied that these contributions +represented genuine self-denial. Young men went without a sufficiency +of tobacco, and refrained from buying sorely-needed new tennis-racquets. +Ladies, with the smallest means at their command, reared marketable +chickens, and sold their own marmalade and cakes. In such ways, and not +from the superfluity of the rich, many thousands of pounds were gathered +annually. It was still more wonderful to him to discover that large +numbers of young men and women, and these the most able and energetic, +devoted themselves to this foreign service, and that their brothers and +sisters at home were banded together in unions to watch their doings +and to pray for them. He found himself entirely untouched by this +enthusiasm, in spite of the beautiful expression it found in the lives +of his new friends. + +But it astonished him greatly that there should be this potent energy +in the Irish Church. The utter helplessness of its Bishops and clergy in +Irish affairs, the total indifference of its people to every effort at +national regeneration, had led him to believe that the Church itself was +moribund. Now he discovered that there was in it an amazing vitality, +a capacity of giving birth to enthusiastic souls. The knowledge brought +with it first of all a feeling of intense irritation. It seemed to him +that all religions were in league against Ireland. The Roman Church +seized the scanty savings of one section of the people, and squandered +them in buying German glass and Italian marble. Were the Protestants +any better, when they spent £20,000 a year on Chinamen and negroes? The +Roman Catholics took the best of their boys and girls to make priests +and nuns of them. The Protestants were doing the same thing when they +shipped off their young men and young women to spend their strength +among savages. Both were robbing Ireland of what Ireland needed +most--money and vitality. He would not say, even to himself, that all +this religious enthusiasm was so much ardour wasted. No doubt the Roman +priest did good work in Chicago, as the Protestant missionary did in +Uganda; only it seemed to him that of all lands Ireland needed most the +service and the prayers of those of her children who had the capacity of +self-forgetfulness. Afterwards, when he thought more deeply, he found a +great hope in the very existence of all this altruistic enthusiasm. He +had a vision of all that might be done for Ireland if only the splendid +energy of her own children could be used in her service. He tried more +than once to explain his point of view. Mr. Quinn met him with blank +disbelief in any possible future for Ireland. + +‘The country is doomed,’ he said. ‘The people are lazy, thriftless, and +priest-ridden. The best of them are flying to America, and those that +remain are dying away, drifting into lunatic asylums, hospitals, and +workhouses. There is a curse upon us. In another twenty years there +will be no Irish people--at least, none in Ireland. Then the English and +Scotch will come and make something of the country.’ + +From Canon Beecher he met with scarcely more sympathy or understanding. + +‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘no doubt we ought to make more efforts than we do +to convert our fellow-countrymen. But it is very difficult to see how we +are to go to work. There is one society which exists for this purpose. +Its friends are full of the very kind of enthusiasm which you describe. +I could point you out plenty of its agents whose whole souls are +in their work, but you know as well as I do how completely they are +failing.’ + +‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I do not in the least mean that we should start +more missions to Roman Catholics. It does not seem to me to matter much +what kind of religion a man professes, and I should be most unwilling to +uproot anyone’s belief. What we ought to do is throw our whole force and +energy into the work of regenerating Ireland. It is possible for us to +do this, and we ought to try.’ + +‘Well, well,’ said the Canon, ‘I must not let you make me argue with +you, Conneally; but I hope you won’t preach these doctrines of yours to +my daughters. I think it is better for them to drop their pennies into +missionary collecting-boxes, and leave the tangled problems of Irish +politics to those better able to understand them than we are.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +There are certain professions, in themselves honest, useful, and even +estimable, for which society has agreed to entertain a feeling of +contempt. It is, for instance, very difficult to think of a curate +as anything except a butt for satirists, or to be respectful to the +profession of tailoring, although many a man for private pecuniary +reasons is meek before the particular individual who makes his clothes. +Yet the novelist and the playwright, who hold the mirror up to modern +humanity, are occasionally kind even to curates and tailors. There is a +youthful athlete in Holy Orders who thrashes, to our immense admiration, +the village bully, bewildering his victim and his admirers with his +mastery of what is described a little vaguely as the ‘old Oxford +science.’ Once, at least, a glamour of romance has been shed over the +son of a tailor, and it becomes imaginable that even the chalker of +unfinished coats may in the future be posed as heroic. There is still, +however, a profession which no eccentric novelist has ever ventured to +represent as other than entirely contemptible. The commercial traveller +is beneath satire, and outside the region of sympathy. If he appears at +all in fiction or on the stage, he is irredeemably vulgar. He is +never heroic, never even a villain, rarely comic, always, poor man, +objectionable. This is a peculiar thing in the literature of a people +like the English, who are not ashamed to glory in their commercial +success, and are always ready to cheer a politician who professes to +have the interests of trade at heart. Amid the current eulogies of +the working man and the apotheosis of the beings called ‘Captains +of Industry,’ the bagman surely ought to find at least an apologist. +Without him it seems likely that many articles would fail to find a +place in the windows of the provincial shopkeepers. Without him large +sections of the public would probably remain ignorant for years of new +brands of cigarettes, and dyspeptic people might never come across the +foods which Americans prepare for their use. + +Also the individual bagman is often not without his charm. He knows, if +not courts and princes, at least hotels and railway companies. He is on +terms of easy familiarity with every ‘boots’ in several counties. He can +calculate to a nicety how long a train is likely to be delayed by a fair +‘somewhere along the line.’ He is also full of information about local +politics. In Connaught, for instance, an experienced member of the +profession will gauge for you the exact strength of the existing League +in any district. He knows what publicans may be regarded as ‘priest’s +men,’ and who have leanings towards independence. His knowledge is +frequently minute, and he can prophesy the result of a District Council +election by reckoning up the number of leading men who read the _United +Irishman_, and weighing them against those who delight in the pages of +the _Leader_. The men who can do these things are themselves local. They +reside in their district, and, as a rule, push the sales and collect the +debts of local brewers and flour-merchants. The representatives of the +larger English firms only make their rounds twice or three times a year, +and are less interesting. They pay the penalty of being cosmopolitan, +and tend to become superficial in their judgment of men and things. + +Hyacinth, like most members of the public, was ignorant of the greatness +and interest of his new profession. He entered upon it with some +misgiving, and viewed his trunk of sample blankets and shawls with +disgust. Even a new overcoat, though warm and weatherproof, afforded +him little joy, being itself a sample of Mr. Quinn’s frieze. One thought +alone cheered him, and even generated a little enthusiasm for his work. +It occurred to him that in selling the produce of the Ballymoy Mill +he was advancing the industrial revival of Ireland. He knew that +other people, quite heroic figures, were working for the same end. A +Government Board found joyous scope for the energies of its officials in +giving advice to people who wanted to cure fish or make lace. It earned +the blessing which is to rest upon those who are reviled and evil spoken +of, for no one, except literary people, who write for English magazines, +ever had a good word for it. There were also those--their activity +took the form of letters to the newspapers--who desired to utilize the +artistic capacity of the Celt, and to enrich the world with beautiful +fabrics and carpentry. They, too, were workers in the cause of the +revival. Then there were great ladies, the very cream of the Anglo-Irish +aristocracy, who petted tweeds and stockings, and offered magnificent +prizes to industrious cottagers. They earned quite large sums of +money for their protégés by holding sales in places like Belfast and +Manchester, where titles can be judiciously cheapened to a wealthy +bourgeoisie, and the wives of ship-builders and cotton-spinners will +spend cheerfully in return for the privilege of shaking hands with +a Countess. A crowd of minor enthusiasts fostered such industries as +sprigging, and there was one man who believed that the future prosperity +of Ireland might be secured by teaching people to make dolls. It was +altogether a noble army, and even a commercial traveller might hold +his head high in the world if he counted himself one of its soldiers. +Hitherto results have not been at all commensurate with the amount of +printer’s ink expended in magazine articles and advertisements. Yet +something has been accomplished. Nunneries here and there have been +induced to accept presents of knitting-machines, and people have +begun to regard as somehow sacred the words ‘technical education.’ +The National Board of Education has also spent a large sum of money in +reviving among its teachers the almost forgotten art of making paper +boats. + +Hyacinth very soon discovered that his patriotic view of this work did +not commend itself to his brother travellers. He found that they had no +feeling but one of contempt for people whom they regarded as meddling +amateurs. Occasionally, when some convent, under a bustling Mother +Superior, advanced from the region of half-charitable sales at +exhibitions into the competition of the open market, contempt became +dislike, and wishes were expressed in quite unsuitable language that the +good ladies would mind their own proper business. Until Hyacinth learnt +to conceal his hopes of Ireland’s future as a manufacturing country he +was regarded with suspicion. No one, of course, objected to his making +what use he could of patriotism as an advertisement, but he was given to +understand that, like other advertisements, it could not be quoted +among the initiated without a serious breach of good manners. Even as an +advertisement it was not rated highly. + +There was an elderly gentleman, stout and somewhat bibulous, who +superintended the consumption of certain brands of American cigarettes +in the province of Connaught. Hyacinth met him in the exceedingly +dirty Railway Hotel at Knock. Since there were no other guests, and the +evening was wet, the two were thrown upon each other’s society in the +commercial-room. + +‘I don’t think,’ said Mr. Hollywell, in reply to a remark of Hyacinth’s, +‘that there’s the least use trying to drag patriotic sentiment into +business. Of course, since you represent an Irish house--woollen goods, +I think you said--you’re quite right to run the fact for all it’s worth. +I don’t in the least blame you. Only I don’t think you’ll find it pays.’ + +He sipped his whisky-and-water--it was still early, and he had only +arrived at his third glass--and then proceeded to give his personal +experience. + +‘Now, I work for an American firm. If there was any force in the +patriotic idea I shouldn’t sell a single cigarette. My people are in +the big tobacco combine. You must have read the sort of things the +newspapers wrote about us when we started. From any point of view, +British Imperial or Irish National, we should have been boycotted long +ago if patriotism had anything to do with trade. But look at the facts. +Our chief rivals in this district are two Irish firms. They advertise +in Gaelic, which is a mistake to start with, because nobody can read it. +They get the newspaper people to write articles recommending a “great +home industry” to public support. They get local branches of all the +different leagues to pass resolutions pledging their members to smoke +only Irish tobacco. But until quite lately they simply didn’t have a +look in.’ + +‘Why?’ asked Hyacinth. ‘Were your things cheaper or better?’ + +‘No,’ said the other, ‘I don’t think they were either. You see, prices +are bound to come out pretty even in the long run, and I should say +that, if anything, they sold a slightly better article. It’s hard to +say exactly why we beat them. When competition is really keen a lot of +little things that you would hardly notice make all the difference. +For one thing, I get a free hand in the matter of subscribing to local +bazaars and race-meetings. I’ve often taken as much as a pound’s worth +of tickets for a five-pound note that some priest was raffling in aid of +a new chapel. It’s wonderful the orders you can get from shopkeepers in +that kind of way. Then, we get our things up better. Look at that.’ + +He handed Hyacinth a highly-glazed packet with a picture of a handsome +brown dog on it. + +‘Keep it,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I give away twenty or thirty of +those packets every week. Now look inside. What have you? Oh, H.M.S. +_Majestic_. That’s one of a series of photos of “Britain’s first line +of defence.” Lots of people go on buying those cigarettes just to get +a complete collection of the photos. We supply an album to keep them in +for one and sixpence. There’s another of our makes which has pictures +of actresses and pretty women. They are extraordinarily popular. They’re +perfectly all right, of course, from the moral point of view, but one in +every ten is in tights or sitting with her legs very much crossed, just +to keep up the expectation. It’s very queer the people who go for those +photos. You’d expect it to be young men, but it isn’t.’ + +The subject was not particularly interesting to Hyacinth, but since his +companion was evidently anxious to go on talking, he asked the expected +question. + +‘Young women,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I found it out quite by accident. I +got a lot of complaints from one particular town that our cigarettes had +no photos with them. I discovered after a while that a girl in one +of the principal shops had hit on a dodge for getting out the photos +without apparently injuring the packets. The funny thing was that +she never touched the ironclads or the “Types of the soldiers of all +nations,” which you might have thought would interest her, but she +collared every single actress, and had duplicates of most of them. And +she wasn’t an exception. Most girls goad their young men to buy these +cigarettes and make collections of the photos. Queer, isn’t it? I can’t +imagine why they do it.’ + +‘You said just now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that latterly you hadn’t done quite +so well. Did you run out of actresses and battleships?’ + +‘No; but one of the Irish firms took to offering prizes and enclosing +coupons. You collected twenty coupons, and you got a silver-backed +looking-glass--girls again, you see--or two thousand coupons, and you +got a new bicycle. It’s an old dodge, of course, but somehow it always +seems to pay. However, all this doesn’t matter to you. All I wanted was +to show you that there is no use relying on patriotism. The thing to go +in for in any business is attractive novelties, cheap lines, and, in the +country shops, long credit.’ + +It was not very long before Hyacinth began to realize the soundness of +Mr. Hollywell’s contempt for patriotism. In the town of Clogher he +found the walls placarded with the advertisements of an ultra-patriotic +draper. ‘Féach Annseo,’ he read, ‘The Irish House. Support Home +Manufactures.’ Another placard was even more vehement in its appeal. +‘Why curse England,’ it asked, ‘and support her manufacturers?’ Try +O’Reilly, the one-price man.’ The sentiments were so admirable that +Hyacinth followed the advice and tried O’Reilly. + +The shop was crowded when he entered, for it was market day in Clogher. +The Irish country-people, whose manners otherwise are the best in +the world, have one really objectionable habit. In the street or in a +crowded building they push their way to the spot they want to reach, +without the smallest regard for the feelings of anyone who happens to +be in the way. Sturdy country-women, carrying baskets which doubled the +passage room they required, hustled Hyacinth into a corner, and for a +time defeated his efforts to emerge. Getting his case of samples safely +between his legs, he amused himself watching the patriot shopkeeper and +his assistants conducting their business. It was perfectly obvious that +in one respect the announcements of the attractive placard departed +from the truth: O’Reilly was not a ‘one-price man,’ He charged for every +article what he thought his customers were likely to pay. The result was +that every sale involved prolonged bargaining and heated argument. In +most cases no harm was done. The country-women were keenly alive to the +value of their money, and evidently enjoyed the process of beating +down the price by halfpennies until the real value of the article was +reached. Then Mr. O’Reilly and his assistants were accustomed to close +the haggle with a beautiful formula: + +‘To _you_,’ they said, with confidential smiles and flattering emphasis +on the pronoun--‘to _you_ the price will be one and a penny; but, +really, there will be no profit on the sale.’ + +Occasionally with timid and inexperienced customers O’Reilly’s method +proved its value. Hyacinth saw him sell a dress-length of serge to a +young woman with a baby in her arms for a penny a yard more than he +had charged a moment before for the same material. Another thing which +struck him as he watched was the small amount of actual cash which was +paid across the counter. Most of the women, even those who seemed quite +poor, had accounts in the shop, and did not shrink from increasing +them. Once or twice a stranger presented some sort of a letter of +introduction, and was at once accommodated with apparently unlimited +credit. + +At length there was a lull in the business, and Hyacinth succeeded in +spreading his goods on a vacant counter, and attracting the attention of +Mr. O’Reilly. He began with shawls. + +‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will give me a good order for these +shawls.’ + +Mr. O’Reilly fingered them knowingly. + +‘Price?’ he said. + +Hyacinth mentioned a sum which left a fair margin of profit for Mr. +Quinn. O’Reilly shook his head and laughed. + +‘Can’t do it.’ + +Hyacinth reduced his price at once as far as possible. + +‘No use,’ said Mr. O’Reilly. + +Compared with the suave oratory to which he treated his customers, this +extreme economy of words was striking. + +‘See here,’ he said, producing a bundle of shawls from a shelf beside +him. ‘I get these for twenty-five shillings a dozen less from Thompson +and Taylor of Manchester.’ + +Hyacinth looked at them curiously. Each bore a prominent label setting +forth a name for the garment in large letters surrounded with wreaths +of shamrocks. ‘The Colleen Bawn,’ he read, ‘Erin’s Own,’ ‘The Kathleen +Mavourneen,’ ‘The Cruiskeen Lawn.’ The appropriateness of this last +title was not obvious to the mere Irishman, but the colour of the +garment was green, so perhaps there was a connection of thought in the +maker’s mind between that and ‘Lawn.’ ‘Cruiskeen’ he may have taken for +the name of a place. + +‘Are these,’ asked Hyacinth, ‘what you advertise as Irish goods?’ + +Mr. O’Reilly cleared his throat twice before he replied. + +‘They are got up specially for the Irish market.’ In the interests of +his employer Hyacinth kept his temper, but the effort was a severe one. + +‘These,’ he said, ‘are half cotton. Mine are pure wool. They are really +far better value even if they were double the price.’ + +Mr. O’Reilly shrugged his shoulders. + +‘I don’t say they’re not, but I should not sell one of yours for every +dozen of the others.’ + +‘Try,’ said Hyacinth; ‘give them a fair chance. Tell the people that +they will last twice as long. Tell them that they are made in Ireland.’ + +‘That would not be the slightest use. They would simply laugh in my +face. My customers don’t care a pin where the goods are made. I have +never in my life been asked for Irish manufacture.’ + +‘Then, why on earth do you stick up those advertisements?’ said +Hyacinth, pointing to the ‘Féach Annseo’ which appeared on a hoarding +across the street. + +Mr. O’Reilly was perfectly frank and unashamed. + +‘The other drapery house in the town is owned by a Scotchman, and of +course it pays more or less to keep on saying that I am Irish. Besides, +I mean to stand for the Urban Council in March, and those sort of ads. +are useful at an election, even if they are no good for business.’ + +‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said Hyacinth, shirking a discussion on +the morality of advertising: ‘I’ll let you have a dozen shawls at cost +price, and take back what you can’t sell, if you give me your word to do +your best for them.’ + +Similar discussions followed the display of serges and blankets. It +appeared that nice-looking goods could be sent over from England at +lower prices. It was vain for Hyacinth to press the fact that his things +were better. Mr. O’Reilly admitted as much. + +‘But what am I to do? The people don’t want what is good. They want a +cheap article which looks well, and they don’t care a pin whether the +thing is made in England, Ireland, or America. Take my advice,’ he added +as Hyacinth left the shop: ‘get your boss to do inferior lines--cheap, +cheap and showy.’ + +So far Mr. Hollywell’s opinions were entirely justified. The appeal of +the patriotic press to the public and the shopkeepers on behalf of the +industrial revival of Ireland had certainly not affected the town of +Clogher. Hyacinth was bitterly disappointed; but hope, when it is born +of enthusiasm, dies hard, and he was greatly interested in a speech +which he read one day in the ‘Mayo Telegraph’. It had been made at a +meeting of the League by an Ardnaree shopkeeper called Dowling. A trade +rival--the fact of the rivalry was not emphasized--had advertised in +a Scotch paper for a milliner. Dowling was exceedingly indignant. He +quoted emigration statistics showing the number of girls who left Mayo +every year for the United States. He pointed out that all of them might +be employed at home, as milliners or otherwise, if only the public would +boycott shops which sold English goods or employed Scotch milliners. +He more than suspected that the obnoxious advertisement was part of an +organized attempt to effect a new plantation of Connaught--‘worse than +Cromwell’s was.’ The fact that Connaught was the only part of Ireland +which Cromwell did not propose to plant escaped the notice of both +Mr. Dowling and his audience. The speech concluded with a passionate +peroration and a verse, no doubt declaimed soundingly, of ‘The West’s +Awake.’ + +Hyacinth made an expedition to Ardnaree, and called hopefully on the +orator. His reception was depressing in the extreme. The shop, which was +large and imposing, was stocked with goods which were obviously English, +and Mr. Dowling curtly refused even to look at the samples of Mr. +Quinn’s manufactures. Hyacinth quoted his own speech to the man, and was +amazed at the cynical indifference with which he ignored the dilemma. + +‘Business is one thing,’ he said, ‘and politics is something entirely +different.’ + +Hyacinth lost his temper completely. + +‘I shall write to the papers,’ he said, ‘and expose you. I shall have +your speech reprinted, and along with it an account of the way you +conduct your business.’ + +A mean, hard smile crossed Mr. Dowling’s mouth before he answered: + +‘Perhaps you don’t know that my wife is the Archbishop’s niece?’ + +Hyacinth stared at him. For a minute or two he entirely failed to +understand what Mrs. Dowling’s relationship to a great ecclesiastic had +to do with the question. At last a light broke on him. + +‘You mean that an editor wouldn’t print my letter because he would be +afraid of offending a Roman Catholic Archbishop?’ + +The expression ‘Roman Catholic’ caught Mr. Dowling’s attention. + +‘Are you a Protestant?’ he asked. ‘You are--a dirty Protestant--and you +dare to come here into my own house, and insult me and trample on my +religious convictions. I’m a Catholic and a member of the League. What +do you mean, you Souper, you Sour-face, by talking to me about Irish +manufactures? Get out of this house, and go to the hell that’s waiting +for you!’ + +As Hyacinth turned to go, there flashed across his mind the recollection +of Miss Goold and her friends who wrote for the _Croppy_. + +‘There’s one paper in Ireland, anyhow,’ he said, ‘which is not afraid +of your wife nor your Archbishop. I’ll write to the _Croppy_, and you’ll +see if they won’t publish the facts.’ + +Mr. Dowling grinned. + +‘I don’t care if they do,’ he said. ‘The priests are dead against the +_Croppy_, and there’s hardly a man in the town reads it. Go up there +now to Hely’s and try if you can buy a copy. I tell you it isn’t on sale +here at all, and whatever they publish will do me no harm.’ + +When Hyacinth returned to the hotel he found Mr. Holywell seated, with +the inevitable whisky-and-water beside him, in the commercial-room. + +‘Well, Mr. Conneally,’ he said, ‘and how is patriotism paying you? Find +people ready to buy what’s Irish?’ + +Hyacinth, boiling over with indignation, related his experience with Mr. +Dowling. + +‘What did I tell you?’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘But anyhow you’re just as +well out of a deal with that fellow. I wouldn’t care to do business with +him myself. I happen to know, and you may take my word for it’--his +voice sunk to a confidential whisper--‘that he’s very deep in the books +of two English firms, and that he daren’t--simply daren’t--place +an order with anyone else. They’d have him in the Bankruptcy Court +to-morrow if he did. I shouldn’t feel easy with Mr. Dowling’s cheque for +an account until I saw how the clerk took it across the bank counter. +You mark my words, there’ll be a fire in that establishment before the +year’s out.’ + +The prophecy was fulfilled, as Hyacinth learnt from the _Mayo +Telegraphy_ and Mr. Dowling’s whole stock of goods was consumed. There +were rumours that a sceptical insurance company made difficulties about +paying the compensation demanded; but the inhabitants of Ardnaree marked +their confidence in the husband of an Archbishop’s niece by presenting +him with an address of sympathy and a purse containing ten sovereigns. + +Most of Hyacinth’s business was done with small shopkeepers in remote +districts. The country-people who lived out of reach of such centres +of fashion as Ardnaree and Clogher were sufficiently unsophisticated to +prefer things which were really good. Hats and bonnets were not quite +universal among the women in the mountain districts far back where they +spoke Irish, and Mr. Quinn’s head-kerchiefs were still in request. Even +the younger women wanted garments which would keep them warm and dry, +and Hyacinth often returned well satisfied from a tour of the country +shops. Sometimes he doubted whether he ought to trust the people with +more than a few pounds’ worth of goods, but he gradually learnt that, +unlike the patriotic Mr. Dowling, they were universally honest. He +discovered, too, that these people, with their imperfect English and +little knowledge of the world, were exceedingly shrewd. They had very +little real confidence in oratorical politicians, and their interest +in public affairs went no further than voting consistently for the +man their priest recommended. But they quickly understood Hyacinth’s +arguments when he told them that the support of Irish manufactures would +help to save their sons and daughters from the curse of emigration. + +‘Faith, sir,’ said a shopkeeper who kept a few blankets and tweeds among +his flour-sacks and porter-barrels, ‘since you were talking to the boys +last month, I couldn’t induce one of them to take the foreign stuff if I +was to offer him a shilling along with it.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +When he returned to Ballymoy after his interview with Mr. Dowling, +Hyacinth set himself to fulfil his threat of writing to the _Croppy_. +He spent Saturday afternoon and evening in his lodgings with the paper +containing the blatant speech spread out before him. He blew his anger +to a white heat by going over the evidence of the man’s grotesque +hypocrisy. He wrote and rewrote his article. It was his first attempt +at expressing thought on paper since the days when he sought to satisfy +examiners with disquisitions on Dryden’s dramatic talent and other +topics suited to the undergraduate mind. This was a different business. +It was no longer a question of filling a sheet of foolscap with +grammatical sentences, discovering synonyms for words hard to spell. Now +thoughts were hot in him, and the art lay in finding words which would +blister and scorch. Time after time he tore up a page of bombast or +erased ridiculous flamboyancies. Late at night, with a burning head and +ice-cold feet, he made his last copy, folded it up, and, distrusting the +cooler criticism of the morning, went out and posted it to the _Croppy_. + +A letter from Miss Goold overtook him the following Thursday in the +hotel at Clogher. + +‘I was delighted to hear from you again,’ she wrote. ‘I was afraid +you had cut me altogether, gone over to the respectable people, and +forgotten poor Ireland. Captain Quinn told me that you and he had +quarrelled, and I gathered that you rather disapproved of him. Well, he +was a bit of a blackguard; but, after all, one doesn’t expect a man +who takes on a job of that kind to be anything else. I never thought +it would suit you, and you will do me the justice of remembering that I +never wanted you to volunteer. Now about your article. It was admirable. +These “Cheap Patriots”’--it was thus the article was headed--‘are just +the creatures we want to scarify. Dowling and his kind are the worst +enemies Ireland has to-day. We’ll publish anything of that kind you send +us, and remember we’re not the least afraid of anybody. It’s a grand +thing for a paper to be as impecunious as the _Croppy_. No man but +a fool would take a libel action against us with any hope of getting +damages. A jury might value Dowling’s character at any fantastic sum +they chose, but it would be a poor penny the _Croppy_ would pay. Still, +we’re not so hard up that we can’t give our contributors something, +and next week you’ll get a small cheque from the office. I hope it may +encourage you to send us more. Don’t be afraid to speak out. If anything +peculiarly seditious occurs to you, write it in Irish. I know it’s all +the same to you which language you write in. Do us half a column every +fortnight or so on Western life and politics.’ + +Hyacinth was absurdly elated by Miss Goold’s praise. He made up his +mind to contribute regularly to the _Croppy_, and had visions of a great +future as a journalist, or perhaps a literary exponent of the ideas of +Independent Ireland. + +Meanwhile, he became very intimate both with the Quinns and with Canon +Beecher’s family. Mrs. Quinn was an enthusiastic gardener, and early in +the spring Hyacinth helped her with her flowerbeds. He learnt to plait +the foliage of faded crocuses, and pin them tidily to the ground with +little wooden forks. He gathered suitable earth for the boxes in which +begonias made their earliest sproutings, and learned to know the +daffodils and tulips by their names. Later on he helped Mr. Quinn to mow +the grass and mix a potent weed-killer for the gravel walks. There came +to be an understanding that, whenever he was not absent on a journey, he +spent the latter part of the afternoon and the evening with the Quinns. +As the days lengthened the family tea was pushed back to later and later +hours to give more time out of doors. + +There is something about the very occupation of gardening which is +deadening to enthusiasm. Perhaps a man learns patience by familiarity +with growing plants. Nature is never in a hurry in a garden, and there +is no use in trying to hustle a flower, whereas a great impatience is +the very life-spirit of enthusiastic patriotism. There has probably +never been a revolutionary gardener, or even a strong Radical who worked +with open-air flowers. Of course, in greenhouses things can be forced, +and the spirit of the ardent reformer may find expression in the nurture +of premature blooms. Perhaps also the constant stooping which gardening +necessitates, especially in the early spring, when the weeds grow +plentifully, tends to destroy the stiff mental independence which must +be the attitude of the militant patriot. It is very difficult for a man +who has stooped long enough to have conquered his early cramps and aches +to face the problems of politics with uncompromising rigidity. Hyacinth +recognised with a curious qualm of disgust that his thoughts turned less +and less to Ireland’s wrongs and Ireland’s future as he learnt to care +for the flowers and the grass. + +No doubt, too, the atmosphere of the Quinns’ family life was not +congenial to the spirit of the Irish politician. Mrs. Quinn was totally +uninterested in politics, and except a prejudice in favour of what she +called loyalty, had absolutely no views on any question which did +not directly affect her home and her children. Mr. Quinn had a +coldly-reasonable political and economic creed, which acted on the +luxuriant fancies of Hyacinth’s enthusiasm as his weed-killer did on +the tender green of the paths. He declined altogether to see any good in +supporting Irish manufactures simply because they were Irish. The story +of O’Reilly’s attitude towards his shawls moved him to no indignation. + +‘I think he’s perfectly right,’ he said. ‘If a man can buy cheap shawls +in England he would be a fool to pay more for Irish ones. Business can’t +be run on those lines. I’m not an object of charity, and if I can’t +meet fair competition I must go under, and it’s right that I should go +under.’ + +Hyacinth had no answer to give. He shirked the point at issue, and +attacked Mr. Quinn along another line in the hope of arousing his +indignation. + +‘But it is not fair competition that you are called upon to face. Do +you call it fair competition when the Government subsidizes a woollen +factory in a convent?’ + +‘Ah!’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you are thinking of the four thousand pounds +the Congested Districts Board gave to the convent at Bobeen. But it is +hardly fair to hold the Government responsible for the way that body +wastes eighty thousand pounds a year.’ + +‘The Government is ultimately responsible, and you must admit that, +after such a gift, and in view of the others which will certainly +follow, you are called upon to meet most unfair competition.’ + +‘Yes, I admit that. But isn’t that exactly what you want to make +general? There doesn’t seem to me any difference between giving a bounty +to one industry and imposing a protective tariff in favour of another; +and if your preference for Irish manufactures means anything, it means +a sort of voluntary protection for every business in the country. If you +object to the Robeen business being subsidized you can’t logically try +to insist on mine being protected.’ + +It was puzzling to have the tables turned on him so adroitly. Hyacinth +was reduced to feeble threat. + +‘Just wait a while till the nuns get another four thousand pounds, and +perhaps four thousand pounds more after that, and see how it will affect +you.’ + +Mr. Quinn smiled. + +‘I’m not much afraid of nuns as trade competitors, or, for the matter of +that, of the Congested Districts Board either. If the Yorkshire people +would only import a few Mother Superiors to manage their factories, +and take the advice of members of our Board in their affairs, I would +cheerfully make them a present of any reasonable subsidy, and beat them +out of the market afterwards.’ + +There was another influence at work on Hyacinth’s mind which had as much +to do with the decay of his patriotism as either the gardening or Mr. +Quinn’s logic. Marion Beecher and her sister were very frequently at the +Mill House during the spring and summer. There was one long afternoon +which was spent in the marking out of the tennis-ground. Mr. Quinn had +theories involving calculations with a pencil and pieces of paper about +the surest method of securing right angles at the corners and parallel +lines down the sides of the court. Hyacinth and Marion worked obediently +with a tape measure and the garden line. One of the boys messed +cheerfully with a pail of liquid whitening. Afterwards the gardening was +somewhat deserted, and Hyacinth was instructed in the game. It took +him a long time to learn, and for many afternoons he and Marion were +regularly beaten, but she would not give up hope of him. Often the +excuse of her coming to the Quinns was the necessity of practising some +new hymn or chant for Sunday. Hyacinth worked as hard at the music as at +the tennis under her tuition, and there came a time when he could sing +an easy tenor part with fair accuracy. Then in the early summer, when +the evenings were warm, hymns were sung on the lawn in front of the +house. There seemed no incongruity in Marion Beecher’s company in +passing without a break from lawn-tennis to hymn-singing, and Mr. Quinn +was always ready to do his best at the bass with a serious simplicity, +as if it were a perfectly natural and usual thing to close an +afternoon’s amusement with ‘Rock of Ages.’ Hyacinth was not conscious of +any definite change in his attitude towards religion. He still believed +himself to be somehow outside the inner shrine of the life which the +Beechers and the Quinns lived, just as he had been outside his father’s +prayers. But he found it increasingly difficult after an hour or two of +companionship with Marion Beecher to get back to the emotions which had +swayed him during the weeks of his intimacy with Miss Goold. To write +for the _Croppy_ after sitting beside Marion in church on Sunday +evenings was like passing suddenly from a quiet wood into a heated +saloon where people wrangled. A wave of the old passionate feeling, when +it returned, affected him as raw spirit would the palate of a boy. + +One day early in summer--the short summer of Connaught, which is +glorious in June, and dissolves into windy mist and warm rain in the +middle of July--Hyacinth was invited by Canon Beecher to join a boating +party on the lake. The river, whose one useful function was the turning +of Mr. Quinn’s millwheel, wound away afterwards through marshy fields +and groves of willow-trees into the great lake. At its mouth the +Beechers kept their boat, a cumbrous craft, very heavy to row, but safe +and suited to carry a family in comfort. The party started early--Canon +Beecher, Hyacinth, and one of the boys very early, for they had to +walk the two miles which separated Ballymoy from the lake shore. Mrs. +Beecher, the girls, the two other boys, and the baskets of provisions +followed a little later on the Rectory car, packed beyond all +possibility of comfort. The Canon himself pulled an oar untiringly, but +without the faintest semblance of style, and the party rippled with joy +when they discovered that Hyacinth also could row. + +‘Now,’ said Elsie, ‘we can go anywhere. We can go on rowing and rowing +all day, and see places we’ve never seen before.’ + +‘My dear girl,’ said her mother, ‘remember that Mr. Conneally and your +father aren’t machines. You mustn’t expect them to go too far.’ + +‘Oh, but,’ said Elsie, ‘father says he never gets tired if he has only +one oar to pull.’ + +The Canon was preparing for his toil. The old coat, in colour now almost +olive green, was folded and used as a cushion by Marion in the bow. His +white cuffs, stowed inside his hat, were committed to the care of Mrs. +Beecher. He rolled his gray shirtsleeves up to the elbow, and unbuttoned +his waistcoat. + +‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m ready. If I’m not hurried, I’ll pull along all day. +But what about you, Conneally? You’re not accustomed to this sort of +thing?’ + +But Hyacinth for once was self-confident. He might be a poor singer and +a contemptible tennis player, but he knew that nothing which had to do +with boats could come amiss to him. He looked across the sparkling water +of the lake. + +‘I’ll go on as long as you like. You won’t tire me when there’s no tide +and no waves. This is a very different business from getting out the +sweeps to pull a nobby five miles against the strength of the ebb, with +a heavy ground swell running.’ + +About eleven o’clock they landed on an island and ate biscuits. The +Canon told Hyacinth the story of the ruin under whose walls they sat. + +‘It belonged to the Lynotts, the Welshmen of Tyrawley. They were at feud +with the Burkes, and one night in winter----’ + +The girls wandered away, carrying their biscuits with them. It is +likely that they had heard the story every summer as long as they could +remember. Mrs. Beecher alone still maintained an attitude of admiration +for her husband’s antiquarian knowledge, the more creditable because she +must have been familiar with the onset of the MacWilliam Burkes before +even Marion was old enough to listen. To Hyacinth the story was both +new and interesting. It stirred him to think of the Lynotts fighting +hopelessly, or begging mercy in the darkness and the cold just where he +sat now saturate with sunlight and with life. He gazed across the mile +of shining water which separated the castle from the land, and tried to +realize how the Irish servant-girl swam from the island with an infant +Lynott on her back, and saved the name from perishing. How the snow must +have beaten in her face and the lake-waves choked her breath! It was a +great story, but the girls, shouting from the water’s edge, reminded him +that he was out to pull an oar, and not to sentimentalize. He and the +Canon rose, half smiling, half sighing, and took their places in the +boat. + +They penetrated before luncheon time to a bay hitherto unknown to the +Beechers. A chorus of delight greeted its discovery. The water shone +bright green and very clear above the slabs of white limestone. The +shore far inland was almost verdure-less. Broad flat rocks lay baking +in the sunshine, and only the scantiest grass struggled up between their +edges. Sometimes they overlapped each other, and rose like an immense +staircase. Fifty yards or so from the land was a tiny island entirely +overgrown with stunted bushes. The boat was pushed up to it and a +landing-place sought, but the shrubs were too thick, and it was decided +to picnic among the rocks on the land. Then Marion in the bow made a +discovery. A causeway about a foot under water led from the island to +the shore. The whole party leaned over to examine it. Every stone was +visible in the clear water, and it was obvious that it had been planned +and built, and was no merely accidental formation of the rocks. The +Canon had heard of a similar device resorted to by an island hermit +to insure the privacy of his cell. Hyacinth spoke vaguely of the +settlements of primitive communities of lake-dwellers. The three boys +planned an expedition across the causeway after luncheon. + +‘We’ll carry our shoes and stockings with us,’ they said, ‘and then +explore the island. Perhaps there is a hermit there still, or +a primitive lake-dweller. What is a primitive lake-dweller, Mr. +Conneally?’ + +Hyacinth was uncertain, but hazarded a suggestion that the lake-dwellers +were the people who buried each other in raths. The Canon, whose +archaeology did not go back beyond St. Patrick, offered no correction. + +Tea was made later on in yet another bay, this time on the eastern shore +of the lake. An oak wood grew down almost to the water’s edge, and the +branches overhung a sandy beach, more golden than any sea-strand. The +whole party collected dead wood and broken twigs for the fire. Then, +while the girls unpacked the baskets and secured the kettle amidst the +smoke, Hyacinth lay back luxuriously and watched the sun set behind the +round-shouldered mountain opposite. The long, steep slope shone +bright green while the sun still rested in view above the summit; then +suddenly, when the topmost rim of it had dipped out of sight, the whole +mountainside turned purple, and a glory of gold and crimson hung above +it on the motionless streaks of cloud. Slowly the splendour faded, the +purple turned gray, and a faint breeze fluttered across the lake. + +The day was the first of many which Hyacinth gave to such expeditions. +The work of Mr. Quinn’s office was not so pressing as to necessitate +his spending every day there when he was in Ballymoy, and a holiday +was always obtainable. The lake scenery remained vivid in his memory in +after-years, and had its influence upon him even while he enjoyed it, +unconscious of anything except the present pleasure. There was something +besides the innocent gaiety of the girls and the simple sincerity of the +Canon’s platitudes, something about the lake itself, which removed him +to a spiritual region utterly remote from the fiery atmosphere of Miss +Goold’s patriotism. Many things which once loomed very large before him +sank to insignificance as he drank to the full of the desolation around +him. The past, in which no doubt men strove and hoped, hated and loved +and feared, had left the just recognisable ruins of some castles and the +causeway built by an unknown hermit or the prehistoric lake-dwellers. +A few thatched cabins, faintly smoking, and here and there a cairn of +stones gathered laboriously off the wretched fields, were the evidences +of present activity. Now and then a man hooted to his dog as it barked +at the sheep on the hillside, or a girl drove a turf-laden donkey inland +from the boggy shore. Otherwise there were no signs of human life. A +deep sense of monotony and inevitableness settled down upon Hyacinth. He +came for the first time under the great enchantment which paralyzes +the spirit and energy of the Celt. He knew himself to be, as his people +were, capable of spasms of enthusiasm, the victim of transitory burnings +of soul. But the curse was upon him--the inevitable curse of feeling too +keenly and seeing too clearly to be strenuous and constant. The flame +would die down, the enthusiasm would vanish--it was vanishing from him, +as he knew well--and leave him, not indeed content with common life, but +patient of it, and to the very end sad with the sense of possibilities +unrealized. + +Yet it was not without many struggles and periods of return to the older +emotions that Hyacinth surrendered his enthusiasm. There still recurred +to him memories of his father’s vision of an Armageddon and the +conception of his own part in it. Sometimes, waking very early in the +morning, he became vividly conscious of his own feebleness of will and +his falling away from great purposes. The conviction that he was called +to struggle for Ireland’s welfare, to sacrifice, if necessary, his life +and happiness for Ireland, was strong in him still. He felt himself +affected profoundly by the influences which surrounded him, but he had +not ceased to believe that the idea of self-sacrificing labour was for +him a high vocation. He writhed, his limbs twisting involuntarily, when +these thoughts beset him, and often he was surprised to discover that he +was actually uttering aloud words of self-reproach. + +Then he would write fiercely, brutally, catch at the excuse of some +hypocrisy or corruption, or else denounce selfishness and easy-going +patriotic sentiment, finding subject for his satire in himself. His +articles brought him letters of praise from Miss Goold. ‘You have it,’ +she wrote once, ‘the thing we all seek for, the power of beating red-hot +thought into sword-blades. Write more like the last.’ But the praise +always came late. The violent mood, the self-reproach, the bitterness, +were past. His life was wrapt round again with softer influences, and he +read his own words with shame when they reached him in print. Afterwards +for a while, if he wrote at all, it was of the peasant life, of quaint +customs, half-forgotten legends and folklore. These articles appeared +too, but brought no praise from Miss Goold. Once she reproached him when +he lapsed into gentleness for many consecutive weeks. + +‘You oughtn’t to waste yourself. There are fifty men and women can do +the sort of thing you’re doing now; we don’t want you to take it up. +It’s fighting men we need, not maundering sentimentalists.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +It was during the second year of Hyacinth’s residence in Ballymoy that +the station-master at Clogher died. The poor man caught a cold one +February night while waiting for a train which had broken down three +miles outside his station. From the cold came first pneumonia, and then +the end. Now, far to the east of Clogher, on a different branch of the +railway-line, is a town with which the people of Mayo have no connection +whatever. In it is a very flourishing Masonic lodge. Almost every male +Protestant in the town and the neighbourhood belongs to it, and the +Rector of the parish is its chaplain. Among its members at that time was +an intelligent young man who occupied the position of goods clerk on the +railway. The Masonic brethren, as in duty bound, used their influence to +secure his promotion, and brought considerable pressure to bear on the +directors of the company to have him made station-master at Clogher. + +It is said with some appearance of truth that no appointment in Ireland +is ever made on account of the fitness of the candidate for the post +to be filled. Whether the Lord Lieutenant has to nominate a Local +Government Board Inspector, or an Urban Council has to select a street +scavenger, the principle acted on is the same. No investigation is made +about the ability or character of a candidate. Questions may be asked +about his political opinions, his religious creed, and sometimes about +the social position of his wife, but no one cares in the least about his +ability. The matter really turns upon the amount of influence which +he can bring to bear. So it happened that John Crawford, Freemason and +Protestant, was appointed station-master at Clogher. Of course, nobody +really cared who got the post except a few seniors of John Crawford’s, +who wanted it for themselves. Probably even they would have stopped +grumbling after a month or two if it had not happened that a leading +weekly newspaper, then at the height of its popularity and influence, +was just inaugurating a crusade against Protestants and Freemasons. +The case of John Crawford became the subject of a series of bitter and +vehement articles. It was pointed out that although Roman Catholics were +beyond all question more intelligent, better educated, and more upright +than Protestants, they were condemned by the intolerance of highly-paid +officials to remain hewers of wood and drawers of water. It was shown by +figures which admitted of no controversy that Irish railways, banks, and +trading companies were, without exception, on the verge of bankruptcy, +entirely owing to the apathy of shareholders who allowed their interests +to be sacrificed to the bigotry of directors. It was urged that a +public meeting should be held at Clogher to protest against the new +appointment. + +The meeting was convened, and Father Fahey consented to occupy the +chair. He was supported by a dispensary doctor, anxious to propitiate +the Board of Guardians with a view to obtaining a summer holiday; a +leading publican, who had a son at Maynooth; a grazier, who dreaded the +possible partition of his ranch by the Congested Districts Board; and +Mr. O’Reilly, who saw a hope of drawing custom from the counter of his +rival draper, the Scotchman. + +Father Fahey opened the proceedings with a speech. He assured his +audience that he was not actuated by any spirit of religious bigotry +or intolerance. He wished well to his Protestant fellow-countrymen, +and hoped that in the bright future which lay before Ireland men of all +creeds would be united in working for the common good of their country. +These sentiments were not received with vociferous applause. The +audience was perfectly well aware that something much more to the point +was coming, and reserved their cheers. Father Fahey did not +disappoint them. He proceeded to show that the appointment of the new +station-master was a deliberate insult to the faith of the inhabitants +of Clogher. + +‘Are we,’ he asked, ‘to submit tamely to having the worst evils of the +old ascendancy revived in our midst?’ + +He was followed by the dispensary doctor, who also began by declaring +his freedom from bigotry. He confused the issue slightly by complaining +that the new station-master was entirely ignorant of the Irish language. +It was perfectly well known that in private life the doctor was in the +habit of expressing the greatest contempt for the Gaelic League, and +that he could not, if his life depended on it, have translated even Mr. +O’Reilly’s advertisements; but his speech was greeted with tumultuous +cheers. He proceeded to harrow the feelings of his audience by +describing what he had heard at the railway-station one evening while +waiting for the train. As he paced the platform his attention was +attracted by the sound of a piano in the station-master’s house. He +listened, and, to his amazement and disgust, heard the tune of a popular +song, ‘a song’--he brought down his fist on the table as he uttered the +awful indictment--‘imported from England.’ + +‘I ask,’ he went on--‘I ask our venerated and beloved parish priest; +I ask you, fathers of innocent families; I ask every right-thinking +patriot in this room, are our ears to be insulted, our morals corrupted, +our intellects depraved, by sounds like these?’ + +He closed his speech by proposing a resolution requiring the railway +company to withdraw the obnoxious official from their midst. + +The oratory of the grazier, who seconded the resolution, was not +inferior. It filled his heart with a sense of shame, so he said, to +think of his cattle, poor, innocent beasts of the field, being +handled by a Protestant. They had been bred, these bullocks of his, +by Catholics, fed by Catholics, were owned by a Catholic, bought with +Catholic money at the fairs, and yet they were told that in all Ireland +no Catholic could be discovered fit to put them into a train. + +Neither the resolution itself nor the heart-rending appeal of the +grazier produced the slightest effect on the railway company. John +Crawford continued to sell tickets, even to Father Fahey himself, and +appeared entirely unconcerned by the fuss. + +About a fortnight after the meeting Hyacinth spent a night in Clogher. +Mr. Holywell, the cigarette man, happened to be in the hotel, and, as +usual, got through a good deal of desultory conversation while he drank +his whisky-and-water. Quite unexpectedly, and apropos of nothing that +had been said, he plumped out the question: + +‘What religion are you, Conneally?’ + +The inquiry was such an unusual one, and came so strangely from Mr. +Holywell, who had always seemed a Gallio in matters spiritual, that +Hyacinth hesitated. + +‘I’m a Baptist myself,’ he went on, apparently with a view to palliating +his inquisitiveness by a show of candour. ‘I find it a very convenient +sort of religion in Connaught. There isn’t a single place of worship +belonging to my denomination in the whole province, so I’m always able +to get my Sundays to myself. I don’t want to convert you to anything or +to argue with you, but I have a fancy that you are a Church of Ireland +Protestant.’ + +Hyacinth admitted the correctness of the guess, and wondered what was +coming next. + +‘Ever spend a Sunday here?’ + +‘Never,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I always get back home for the end of the week +if I can.’ + +‘Ah! Well, do you know, if I were you, I should spend next Sunday here, +and go to Mass.’ + +‘I shall not do anything of the sort.’ + +‘Well, it’s your own affair, of course; only I just think I should do it +if I were you. Good-night.’ + +‘Wait a minute,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I want to know what you mean.’ + +Mr. Holywell sat down again heavily. + +‘Been round your customers here lately?’ + +‘No. I only arrived this evening, and have done nothing yet. I mean to +go round them to-morrow.’ + +‘You may just as well go home by the early train for all the good you’ll +do.’ + +Hyacinth restrained himself with an effort. He reflected that he was +more likely to get at the meaning of these mysterious warnings if he +refrained from direct questioning. After a minute of two of silence Mr. +Hollywell went on: + +‘They had a meeting here a little while ago about the appointment of +a Protestant station-master. They didn’t take much by it so far as the +railway company is concerned, but I happen to know that word has gone +round that every shopkeeper in the town is to order his goods as far as +possible from Catholics. Now, everybody knows your boss is a Protestant, +but the people are a little uncertain about you. They’ve never seen you +at Mass, which is suspicious, but, on the other hand, the way you gas on +about Irish manufactures makes them think you can’t be a Protestant. +The proper thing for you to do is to lie low till you’ve put in an +appearance at Mass, and then go round and try for orders.’ + +‘That’s the kind of thing,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I couldn’t do if I had +no religion at all; but it happens that I have convictions of a sort, +and I don’t mean to go against them.’ + +‘Oh, well, as I said before, it’s your own affair; only better +Protestants than you have done as much. Why, I do it myself constantly, +and everyone knows that a Baptist is the strongest kind of Protestant +there is.’ + +This reasoning, curiously enough, proved unconvincing. + +‘I can’t believe,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that a religious boycott of the kind +is possible. People won’t be such fools as to act clean against their +own interests. Considering that nine-tenths of the drapery goods in the +country come from England and are sold by Protestant travellers, I don’t +see how the shopkeepers could act as you say.’ + +‘Oh, of course they won’t act against their own interests. I’ve never +come across a religion yet that made men do that. They won’t attempt to +boycott the English firms, because, as you say, they couldn’t; but they +can boycott you. Everything your boss makes is turned out just as well +and just as cheap, or cheaper, by the nuns at Robeen. Perhaps you didn’t +know that these holy ladies have hired a traveller. Well, they have, and +he’s a middling smart man, too--quite smart enough to play the trumps +that are put into his hand; and he’s got a fine flush of them now. What +with the way that wretched rag of a paper, which started all the fuss, +goes on rampaging, and the amount of feeling that’s got up over the +station-master, the peaceablest people in the place would be afraid to +deal with a Protestant at the present moment. The Robeen man has the +game in his own hands, and I’m bound to say he’d be a fool if he didn’t +play it for all it’s worth. I’d do it myself if I was in his shoes.’ + +Hyacinth discovered next day that Mr. Holywell had summed up the +situation very accurately. No point-blank questions were asked about his +religion, but he could by no means persuade his customers to give him +even a small order. Every shop-window was filled with goods placarded +ostentatiously as ‘made in Robeen.’ Every counter had tweeds, blankets, +and flannels from the same factory. No one was in the least uncivil to +him, and no one assigned any plausible reason for refusing to deal with +him. He was simply bowed out as quickly as possible from every shop he +entered. + +He returned home disgusted and irritated, and told his tale to his +employer. Mr. Quinn recognised the danger that threatened him. For the +first time, he admitted that his business was being seriously injured +by the competition of Robeen. He took Hyacinth into his confidence more +fully than he had ever done before, and explained what seemed to be a +hopeful plan. + +‘I may tell you, Conneally, that I have very little capital to fall back +upon in my business. Years ago when things were better than they are +now, I had a few thousands put by, but most of it went on buying my +brother Albert’s share of the mill. Lately I have not been able to save, +and at the present moment I can lay hands on very little money. Still, I +have something, and what I mean to do is this: I shall give up all idea +of making a profit for the present. I shall even sell my goods at a +slight loss, and try to beat the nunnery out of the market. I think +this religious animosity will weaken after a while, and if we offer the +cheapest goods we must in the end get back our customers.’ + +Hyacinth was not so sanguine. + +‘You forget,’ he said, ‘that these people have Government money at their +backs, and are likely to get more of it. If you sell at a loss they will +do so, too, and ask for a new grant from the Congested Districts Board +to make good their deficiency.’ + +Mr. Quinn sighed. + +‘That is quite possible,’ he said. ‘But what can I do? I must make a +fight for my business.’ + +Hyacinth hesitated. + +‘Perhaps I have no right to make the suggestion, but it seems to me that +you are bound to be beaten. Would it not be better to give in at once? +Don’t risk the money you have safe. Keep it, and try to sell the mill +and the business.’ + +‘I shall hold on,’ said Mr. Quinn. + +‘Ought you not to think of your wife? Remember what it will mean to +her if you are beaten in the end, when your savings are gone and your +business unsaleable.’ + +For a moment there were signs of wavering in Mr. Quinn’s face. The +fingers of his hands twisted in and out of each other, and a pitiable +look of great distress came into his eyes. Then he unclasped his hands +and placed them flat on the table before him. + +‘I shall hold on,’ he said. ‘I shall not close my mill while I have a +shilling left to pay my workers with.’ + +‘Well,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it is for you to decide. At least, you can count +on my doing my best, my very best.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +Mr. Quinn carried on his struggle for nearly a year, although from the +very first he might have recognised its hopelessness. Time after time +Hyacinth made his tour, and visited the shopkeepers who had once been +his customers. Occasionally he succeeded in obtaining orders, and a +faint gleam of hope encouraged him, but he had no steady success. Mr. +Quinn’s original estimate of the situation was so far justified that +after a while the religious animosity died out. Shopkeepers even +explained apologetically that they gave their orders to the Robeen +convent for purely commercial reasons. + +‘Their goods are cheaper than yours, and that’s the truth, Mr. +Conneally.’ + +Hyacinth recognised that Mr. Quinn was being beaten at his own game. He +had attempted to drive the nuns out of the market by underselling them, +and now it appeared that they, too, were prepared to face a loss. It was +obvious that their losses must be great, much greater than Mr. Quinn’s. +Rumours were rife of large loans raised by the Mother Superior, of +mortgages on the factory buildings and the machinery. These stories +brought very little consolation, for, as Hyacinth knew, Mr. Quinn was +very nearly at the end of his resources. He refused to borrow. + +‘When I am forced to close up,’ he said, ‘I shall do so with a clear +balance-sheet. I have no wish for bankruptcy.’ + +‘I should like,’ said Hyacinth vindictively, ‘to see the Reverend Mother +reduced to paying a shilling in the pound.’ + +‘I am afraid,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you won’t see that. The convent is a +branch of an immense organization. No doubt, if it comes to a pinch, +funds will be forthcoming.’ + +‘Yes, and they won’t draw on their own purse till they have got all +they can out of the Congested Districts Board. I have no doubt they are +counting on another four thousand pounds to start them clear when they +have beaten you.’ + +One day, quite accidentally, Hyacinth came by a piece of information +about the working of the Robeen factory which startled him. He was +travelling home by rail. It happened to be Friday, and, as usual in +the early summer, the train was crowded with emigrants on their way to +Queenstown. The familiar melancholy crowd waited on every platform. +Old women weeping openly and men with faces ridiculously screwed and +puckered in the effort to restrain the rising tears clung to their sons +and daughters. Pitiful little boxes and carpet bags were piled on +the platform. Friends clung to hands outstretched through the +carriage-windows while the train moved slowly out. Then came the long +mournful wail from those left behind, and the last wavings of farewell. +At the Robeen station the crowd was no less than elsewhere. The +carriages set apart for the emigrants were full, and at the last minute +two girls were hustled into the compartment where Hyacinth sat. A woman, +their mother, mumbled and slobbered over their hands. An old man, too +old to be their father, shouted broken benedictions to them. Two +young men--lovers, perhaps, or brothers--stood red-eyed, desolate and +helpless, without speaking. After the train had started Hyacinth looked +at the girls. One of them, a pretty creature of perhaps eighteen years +old, wept quietly in the corner of the carriage. Beside her lay her +carpet bag and a brown shawl. On her lap was an orange, and she held a +crumpled paper bag of biscuits in her hand. There was nothing unusual +about her. She was just one instance of heartbreak, the heart-break of a +whole nation which loves home as no other people have ever loved it, and +yet are doomed, as it seems inevitably, to leave it. She was just one +more waif thrown into the whirlpool of the great world to toil and +struggle, succeed barrenly or pitifully fail; but through it all, +through even the possible loss of faith and ultimate degradation, fated +to cling to a love for the gray desolate fatherland. The other girl +was different. Hyacinth looked at her with intense interest. She was the +older of the two, and not so pretty as her sister. Her face was thin and +pale, and a broad scar under one ear showed where a surgeon’s knife had +cut. She sat with her hands folded on her lap, gazing dry-eyed out of +the window beside her. There was no sign of sorrow on her face, nothing +but a kind of sulky defiance. + +After a while she took the paper bag out of her sister’s hand, opened +it, and began to eat the gingerbread biscuits it contained. Hyacinth +spoke to her, but she turned her head away, and would not answer him. +His voice seemed to rouse the younger sister, who stopped crying and +looked at him curiously. He tried again, and this time he spoke in +Irish. + +At once the younger girl brightened and answered him. Apparently she had +no fear that malice could lurk in the heart of a man who spoke her own +language. In a few minutes she was chatting to him as if he were an old +friend. + +He learnt that the two girls were on their way to New York. They had +a sister there who had sent them the price of their tickets. Yes, the +sister was in a situation, was getting good wages, and had clothes ‘as +grand as a lady’s.’ She had sent home a photograph at Christmas-time, +which their mother had shown all round the parish. These two were to get +situations also as soon as they arrived. Oh yes, there was no doubt of +it: Bridgy had promised. There were four of them left at home--three +boys and a girl. No doubt in time they would all follow Bridgy to +America--all but Seumas; he was to have the farm. No, the girls +could not get married, because their father was too poor to give them +fortunes. There was nothing for them but to go to America. But their +mother had not wanted them to go. The clergy and the nuns were against +the girls going. Indeed, they nearly had them persuaded to send Bridgy’s +money back. + +‘But Onny was set on going.’ + +She glanced at her sister in the corner of the carriage. Hyacinth turned +to her. + +‘Why do you want to leave Ireland?’ + +But Onny remained silent, sulky, at it seemed. It was the younger girl +who answered him. + +‘They say it’s a fine life they have out there. There’s good money to be +earned, and mightn’t we be coming home some day with a fortune?’ + +‘But aren’t you sorry to leave Ireland?’ + +Again he looked at the elder girl, and this time was rewarded with a +flash of defiant bitterness from her eyes. + +‘Sorry, is it? No, but I’m glad!’ + +‘Onny’s always saying that there was nothing to be earned in the +factory. And she got more than the rest of us. Wasn’t she the first girl +that Sister Mary Aloysius picked out of the school when the young lady +from England came over to teach us? She was the best worker they had.’ + +‘It’s true what she says,’ said Onny. ‘I was the best worker they had. I +worked for them for three years, and all I was getting at the end of it +was six shillings a week. Why would I be working for that when I might +be getting wages like Bridgy’s in America? What sense would there be in +it?’ + +‘But why did you work for such wages?’ + +‘Well, now,’ said the younger girl, ‘how could we be refusing the +Reverend Mother when she came round the town herself, and gave warning +that we’d all be wanted?’ + +‘There’s few,’ continued Onny, without noticing her sister, ‘that earned +as much as I did. Many a girl works there and has no more than one and +ninepence to take home at the end of the week.’ + +Hyacinth began to understand how it was that Mr. Quinn was being +hopelessly beaten. This was no struggle between two trade rivals, to be +won by the side with the longer purse. Nor was it simply a fight between +an independent manufacturer and a firm fed with Government bounties. Mr. +Quinn’s rival could count on an unlimited supply of labour at starvation +wages, while he had to hire men and women at the market value of their +services. He had been sorry for the two girls when they got into the +train. Now he felt almost glad that they were leaving Ireland. It +appeared that they had certainly chosen the wiser part. + +He arrived at home dejected, and sat down beside the fire in his room +to give himself up to complete despair. He found no hope anywhere. Irish +patriotism, so he saw it, was a matter of words and fine phrases. No one +really believed in it or would venture anything for it. Politics was a +game at which sharpers cheated each other and the people. The leaders +were bold only in sordid personal quarrels. The mass of the people were +utterly untouched by the idea of nationality, in earnest about nothing +but huckstering and petty gains. Over all was the grip of a foreign +bureaucracy and a selfish Church tightening slowly, squeezing out the +nation’s life, grasping and holding fast its wealth. No man any longer +made any demand except to be allowed to earn what would buy whisky +enough to fuddle him into temporary forgetfulness of the present misery +and the imminent tyranny. + +The slatternly maid-servant who brought him his meals and made his bed +tapped at the door. + +‘Please, sir, Jimmy Loughlin’s after coming with a letter from Mr. +Quinn, and he’s waiting to know if you’ll go.’ + +Hyacinth read the note, which asked him to call on his employer that +afternoon. + +‘Tell him I’ll be there.’ + +‘Will you have your dinner before you go? The chops is in the pan below. +Or will I keep them till you come back?’ + +‘Oh, I’ve time enough. Bring them as soon as they’re cooked, and for +goodness’ sake see that the potatoes are properly boiled.’ + +He took up a great English weekly paper, with copies of which Canon +Beecher supplied him at irregular intervals, and propped it against +the dish-cover while he ate. The article which caught his attention was +headed ‘Angels in Connaught.’ It contained an idealized account of the +work of the Robeen nuns, from whose shoulders it seemed to the writer +likely that wings would soon sprout. There was a description of the once +miserable cabins now transformed into homesteads so comfortable that +English labourers would not disdain them. The people shared in the +elevation of their surroundings. Men and women, lately half-naked +savages, starved and ignorant, had risen in the scale of civilization +and intelligence to a level which almost equalled that of a Hampshire +villager. The double stream of emigration to the United States and +migration to the English harvest-fields was stopped. An earthly paradise +had been created in a howling wilderness by the self-denying labours of +the holy ladies, aided by the statesmanlike liberality of the Congested +Districts Board. There was another page of the article, but Hyacinth +could stand no more. + +He stood up and glanced at his watch. It was already nearly five +o’clock. He pushed his way down the street, where the country-people, +having completed their week’s marketing, were loading donkeys on the +footpath or carts pushed backwards against the kerbstone. Women dragged +their heavily-intoxicated husbands from the public-houses, and girls, +damp and bedraggled, stood in groups waiting for their parents. He +turned into the gloomy archway of the mill, unlocked the iron gate, and +crossed the yard into the Quinns’ garden. The lamp burned brightly in +the dining-room, and he could see Mrs Quinn in her chair by the fireside +sewing. Her children sat on the rug at her feet. He saw their faces +turned up to hers, gravely intent. No doubt she was telling them some +story. He stood for a minute and watched them, while the peaceful joy +of the scene entered into his heart. This, no doubt, a home full of such +love and peace, was the best thing life had got to give. It was God’s +most precious benediction. ‘Lo, thus shall a man be blessed who feareth +the Lord.’ He turned and passed on to the door. The servant showed him +in, not, as he expected, to the sitting-room he had just gazed at, but +to Mr. Quinn’s study. + +It was a desolate chamber. A plain wooden desk like a schoolmaster’s +stood in one corner, and upon it a feeble lamp. A bookcase surmounted a +row of cupboards along one wall. Its contents--Hyacinth had often looked +over them--were a many-volumed encyclopaedia, Macaulay’s ‘History of +England,’ Foxe’s ‘Book of Martyrs,’ a series entitled ‘Heroes of the +Reformation,’ and some bound volumes of a trade journal. Above the +chimneypiece hung two trout-rods, a landing-net, and an old gun. The +grate was fireless. It was a room obviously not loved by its owner. +Neither pleasure nor comfort was looked for in it. It was simply a place +of escape from the attractions of quiet ease when business overflowed +the proper office hours. Mr. Quinn rose from his desk when Hyacinth +entered. + +‘I am very glad to see you,’ he said; ‘I want to have a talk with you.’ + +Hyacinth waited while he arranged and rearranged some papers on the desk +in front of him. Mr. Quinn, although he had specially sent for Hyacinth, +seemed in no hurry to get to the subject of the interview. When he did +speak, it was evident from his tone that the important topic was still +postponed. + +‘How did you get on this week?’ + +Hyacinth had nothing good to report. He took from his pocket the +note-book in which he entered his orders, and went over it. It contained +an attenuated list. Moreover, the harvest had been bad, and old debts +very difficult to collect. Mr. Quinn listened, apparently not very +attentively, and when the reading was over said: + +‘What you report this week is simply a repetition of the story of the last +six months. I did not expect it to be different. It makes the decision +I have to make a little more inevitable, that is all. Mr. Conneally, we +have been very good friends, and since you have been in my employment I +have been satisfied with you in every way. Now I am unable to employ you +any longer. I am giving up my business.’ + +Hyacinth made an effort to speak, but Mr. Quinn held up his hand and +silenced him. + +‘This week,’ he continued, ‘I received news which settled the matter +for me. Jameson and Thorpe, the big drapers in Dublin, were my best +customers for certain goods. Last Monday they wrote that they had an +offer of blankets at a figure a long way below mine. I didn’t believe +that articles equal in quality to mine could be produced at the price, +and wrote a hint to that effect. I received--nothing could have been +more courteous--a sample of the blankets offered. Well, I admit that it +was at least equal to what I could supply in every way. I wrote again +asking as a favour to be supplied with the name of the competing firm. I +got the answer to-day. Mr. Thorpe wrote himself. The Robeen convent has +undersold me.’ + +Hyacinth made another attempt to speak. + +‘Let me finish,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘I had foreseen, of course, that this +was coming. I have no more capital to fall back upon. I do not mean to +run into debt. There is nothing for me but to dismiss my employées and +shut up.’ + +‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And then----’ + +He knew he had no right to ask a question about the future, but the +thought of Mrs. Quinn and her children as he had seen them in the +dining-room almost forced him to inquire what was to happen to them. A +spasm of extreme pain crossed Mr. Quinn’s face. + +‘You are thinking of my wife. It will be hard--yes, very hard. She loved +this place, her friends here, her garden, and all the quiet, peaceful +life we have lived. Well, there is to be an end of it. But don’t look so +desperate.’ He forced himself to smile as he spoke. ‘We shall not starve +or go to the workhouse. I have a knowledge of woollen goods if I have +nothing else, and I dare say I can get an appointment as foreman or +traveller for some big drapery house. But I may not be reduced to that. +There is a secretary wanted just now in the office of one of the Dublin +charitable societies. I mean to apply for the post. Canon Beecher and +our Bishop are both members of the committee, and I am sure will do +their best for me. The salary is not princely--a hundred and twenty +pounds a year, I think. But there, I ought not to be talking all this +time about myself. I must try and do something for you.’ + +‘Never mind me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I shall be all right. But I can’t bear +to think of you and Mrs. Quinn. Poverty like that in Dublin! Have you +thought what it means? A shabby little house in a crowded street, off at +the back of somewhere; dirt and stuffiness and vulgarity all around you. +She can’t be expected to stand it--or you either.’ + +‘My dear boy,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘my wife and I have been trying all our +lives to be Christians. Shall we receive good at the Lord’s hand and not +evil also? However it may be with me, I know that she will not fail in +the trial.’ + +His face lit up as he spoke, and the smile on it was no longer forced, +but clear and brave. Hyacinth knew that he was once again in the +presence of that mysterious power which enables men and women to meet +and conquer loss and pain, against which every kind of misfortune beats +in vain. His eyes filled with tears as he took Mr. Quinn’s hand and bade +him good-night. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Hyacinth had three months’ work to do before he actually left Mr. +Quinn’s employment. He knew that at the end of that time he would be +left absolutely without income, and that it was necessary for him to +look out for some other situation. He reckoned up the remains of his +original capital, and found himself with little more than a hundred +pounds to fall back upon. Yet he did nothing. From time to time he +bestirred himself, pondered the newspaper advertisements of vacant +situations, and mentally resolved to commence his search at once. Always +some excuse offered itself to justify putting the unpleasant business +off, and he allowed himself to slip back into the quiet routine of life +as if no catastrophe threatened him. He was, indeed, far more troubled +about the Quinns’ future than his own, and when, at the end of April, +Canon Beecher returned from Dublin with the news that he had secured the +secretaryship of the Church of Ireland Scriptural Schools Society for +Mr. Quinn, Hyacinth felt that his mind was relieved of a great anxiety. +That no such post had been discovered for him did not cost him a +thought. In spite of his spasmodic efforts to goad himself into a +condition of reasonable anxiety for his future, there remained half +consciously present in his mind a conviction that somehow a way of +getting sufficient food and clothes would offer itself in due time. + +The conviction was justified by the event. It was on Saturday evening +that the Canon returned with his good news, and on Sunday morning +Hyacinth received a letter from Miss Goold. + +‘You have no doubt heard,’ she wrote, ‘that we have got a new editor +for the Croppy--Patrick O’Dwyer, Mary’s brother. Of course, you remember +Mary and her unpoetical hysterics the morning after the Rotunda meeting. +The new editor is a splendid man. He has been on the staff of a New +York paper for the last five years, and thoroughly understands the whole +business. But that’s not the best of him. He hates England worse than +I do. I’m only a child beside him, bursting out into fits of temper +now and then, and cooling off again. He hates steadily, quietly, and +intensely. But even that is not all that is to be said. He has got +brains--brains enough, my dear Hyacinth, to make fools of you and me +every day and all day long. He has devised a new policy for Ireland. The +plan is simplicity itself, like all really great plans, and it _must_ +succeed. I won’t go into it now, because I want you to come up to Dublin +and see O’Dwyer. He tells me that he needs somebody else besides himself +on the staff of the _Croppy_, which, by the way, is to be enlarged and +improved. He wants a man who can write a column a week in Irish, as well +as an article now and then in good strong plain English. I suggested +your name to him, and showed him some of the articles you had written. +He was greatly pleased with the one about O’Dowd’s cheap patriotism, and +liked one or two of the others. He just asked one question about you: +“Does Mr. Conneally hate England and the Empire, and everything English, +from the Parliament to the police barrack? It is this hatred which must +animate the work.” I said I thought you did. I told him how you had +volunteered to fight for the Boers, and about the day you nearly killed +that blackguard Shea. He seemed to think that was good enough, and asked +me to write to you on the subject. We can’t offer you a big salary. The +editor himself is only to get a hundred pounds a year for the present, +and I am guaranteeing another hundred for you. I am confident that I +shan’t have to pay it for more than six months. The paper is sure to go +as it never went before, and in a few years we shall be able to treble +O’Dwyer’s salary and double yours. Nothing like such a chance has ever +offered itself in Irish history before. Everything goes to show that +this is our opportunity. England is weaker than she has been for +centuries, is clinging desperately to the last tatters of her old +prestige. She hasn’t a single statesman capable of thinking or acting +vigorously. Her Parliament is the laughingstock of Europe. Her Irish +policy may be summed up in four words--intrigue with the Vatican. In +Ireland the power of the faithful garrison is gone. The Protestants in +the North are sick of being fooled by one English party after another. +The landlords, or what’s left of them, are beginning to discover that +they have been bought and sold. The Bishops, England’s last line of +defence, are overreaching themselves, and we are within measurable +distance of the day when the Church will be put into her proper place. +There is not so much as a shoneen publican in a country town left who +believes in the ranting of O’Rourke and his litter of blind whelps. +Ireland is simply crying out for light and leading, and the _Croppy_ +is going to give both. You always wanted to serve Ireland. Now I am +offering you the chance. I don’t say you ought to thank me, though you +will thank me to the day of your death. I don’t say that you have an +opportunity of becoming a great man. I know you, and I know a better way +of making sure of you than that. I say to you, Hyacinth Conneally, that +we want you--just _you_ and nobody else. Ireland wants you.’ + +The letter, especially the last part of it, was sufficiently ridiculous +to have moved Hyacinth to a smile. But it did no such thing. On the +contrary, its rhetoric excited and touched him. The flattery of the +final sentences elated him. The absurdity of the idea that Ireland +needed him, a fifth-rate office clerk, an out-of-work commercial +traveller who had failed to sell blankets and flannels, did not strike +him at all. The figure of Augusta Goold rose to his mind. She flashed +before him, an Apocalyptic angel, splended and terrible, trumpet-calling +him to the last great fight. He forgot in an instant the Quinns and +their trouble. The years of quietness in Ballymoy, the daily intercourse +with gentle people, the atmosphere of the religion in which he had +lived, fell away from him suddenly. + +He sat absorbed in an ecstasy of joyful excitement until the jangling of +Canon Beecher’s church bell recalled him to common life again. It speaks +for the strength of the habits he had formed in Ballymoy that he rose +without hesitation and went to take his part in the morning service. + +He sat down as usual beside Marion Beecher and her harmonium. He +listened to her playing until her father entered. He found himself +gazing at her when she stood up for the opening words of the service. +He felt himself strangely affected by the gentleness of her face and the +slender beauty of her form. When she knelt down he could not take +his eyes off her. There came over him an inexplicable softening, a +relaxation of the tense excitement of the morning. He thought of her +kneeling there in the faded shabby church Sunday after Sunday for years +and years, when he was working at hot pressure far away. He knew just +how her eyes would look calmly, trustfully up to the God she spoke +to; how her soul would grow in gentleness; how love would be the very +atmosphere around her. And all the while he would struggle and fight, +with no inspiration except a bitter hate. Suddenly there came on him a +feeling that he could not leave her. The very thought of separation +was a fierce pain. A desire of her seized on him like uncontrollable +physical hunger. Wherever he might be, whatever life might have in store +for him, he knew that his heart would go back to her restlessly, and +remain unsatisfied without her. He understood that he loved her. Canon +Beecher’s voice came to him as if from an immense distance: + +‘O God, make speed to save us.’ + +Then he heard very clearly Marion’s sweet voice replying: + +‘O Lord, make haste to help us.’ + +There was a faint shuffling, and the congregation rose to their feet. +His eyes were still on Marion, and now his whole body quivered with the +force of his newly-found love. She half turned and looked at him. For +one instant their eyes met, and he saw in hers a flash of recognition, +then a strange look of fear, and she turned away from him, flushed and +trembling. He saw that she had read his heart and knew his love. + +‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,’ read +the Canon heavily. + +Hyacinth’s heart swelled in him. His whole being seemed to throb with +exultation, and he responded in a voice he could not recognise for his. + +‘As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without +end. Amen.’ + +Marion stood silent. Her head was bowed down, and her hands clasped +tight together. + +Of the remainder of the morning’s service Hyacinth could never +afterwards remember anything. No doubt Canon Beecher read the Psalms and +lessons and prayers; no doubt he preached. Probably, also, hymns were +sung, and Marion played them, but he could not imagine how. It seemed +quite impossible that she could have touched the keys with her fingers, +or that she could have uttered any sound; yet no one had remarked the +absence of hymns or even noticed any peculiarity in their performance. +Not till after the service was over did he regain full consciousness +of himself and his surroundings; then he became exceedingly alert. He +watched the Canon disappear into the vestry, heard the congregation +trample down the aisle, listened to Marion playing a final voluntary. +It seemed to him as he sat there waiting for her to stop that she played +much longer than usual. He could hear Mrs. Beecher and Mr. Quinn talking +in the porch, and every moment he expected the Canon to appear. At last +the music ceased, and the lid of the harmonium was closed and locked. He +stepped forward and took Marion’s hands in his. + +‘Marion,’ he said, ‘I love you. It was only this morning that I found +it out, but I know--oh, I know--that I love you far, far more than I can +tell you.’ + +The hand which lay in his grew cold, and the girl’s head was bowed so +that he could not see her face. He felt her tremble. + +‘Marion, Marion, I love you, love you, love you!’ + +Then very slowly she raised her head and looked at him. He stooped to +kiss her lips, and felt her face flush and glow when he touched it. Then +she drew her hands from his and fled down the church to her mother. + +Hyacinth stood agape with wonder at the words which he had spoken. The +knowledge of his love had come on him like a sudden gust, and he only +half realized what he had done. He walked back to his lodgings, going +over and over the amazing words, recalling with flushed astonishment the +kiss. Then a chilling doubt beset him suddenly. Did Marion know how poor +he was? Never in his life had the fear of poverty or the desire of +gain determined Hyacinth’s plans. He knew very well that no such +considerations would have in any way affected his conduct towards +Marion. Once he realized that he loved her, the confession of his +love was quite inevitable. Yet he felt vaguely that he might be judged +blameworthy. He had read a few novels, and he knew that even the writers +whose chief business it is to glorify the passion of love do not dare to +represent it as independent of money. He knew, too, that many penniless +heroes won admiration--he did not in the least understand why they +should--by silently deserting affectionate women. He knew that kisses +were immoral except for those who possessed a modest competence. These +authorized ethics of marriage engagements were wholly incomprehensible +to him, and it in no way disquieted his conscience that he had bound +Marion to him with his kiss; yet he felt that she had a right to know +what income he hoped to earn, and what kind of home he would have to +offer her. A hundred pounds a year might be deemed insufficient, and +he knew that, not being either a raven or a lily, he could not count on +finding food and clothes ready when he wanted them. + +The daughters of the Irish Church clergy, even of the dignitaries, are +not brought up in luxury. Still, they are most of them accustomed to a +daily supply of food--plain, perhaps, but sufficient--and will look for +as much in the homes of their husbands. A girl like Marion Beecher does +not expect to secure a position which will enable her to send her own +clothes to a laundress or hire a cook who can make pastry; but it is not +fair to ask her to wash the family’s blankets or to boil potatoes for a +pig. Probably her friends would think her lucky in marrying a curate or +a dispensary doctor with one hundred and fifty pounds a year, and +the prospect of one-third as much again after a while. But Hyacinth +remembered that he was poorer than any curate. He determined to put the +matter plainly before Marion without delay. + +The Rectory door was opened for him by Elsie Beecher, and, in spite of +her wondering protests, Hyacinth walked into the dining-room and asked +that Marion should be sent to him. The room was empty, as he expected. +He stood and waited for her, deriving faint comfort and courage from the +threadbare carpet, patched tablecloth, and poor crazy chairs. They were +strange properties for a scene with possibilities of deep romance in it, +but they made his confession of poverty easier. + +Marion entered at last and stood beside him. He neither took her hand +nor looked at her. + +‘When I told you to-day that I loved you,’ he said, ‘I ought to have +told you that I am very poor.’ + +‘I know it,’ she said. + +‘But I am poorer even than you know. I am not in Mr. Quinn’s employment +any more. I have no settled income, and only a prospect of earning a +very small one.’ He paused. ‘I shall have to go away from Ballymoy. I +must live in Dublin. I do not think it is fair to ask you to marry me. I +shall have no more to live upon than----’ + +She moved a step nearer to him and laid her hand on his arm. + +‘Look at me,’ she said. + +He raised his eyes to her face, and saw again there, as he had seen in +church, the wonderful shining of love, which is stronger than all things +and holds poverty and hardship cheap. + +‘Keep looking at me still,’ she said. ‘Now tell me: Do you really think +it matters that you are poor? Do you think I care whether you have much +or little? Tell me.’ + +He could not answer her, although he knew that there was only one answer +to her question. + +‘Do you think that I love money? Do you doubt that I love you?’ + +Her voice sunk almost to a whisper as she spoke, and her eyes fell from +looking into his. Just as when he kissed her in the church, she flushed +suddenly, but this time she did not try to escape from him. Instead she +clung to his arm, and hid her face against his shoulder. He put his arms +round her and held her close. + +‘I know,’ he said. ‘I was a fool to come here thinking that my being +poor would matter. I might have known. Indeed, I think I did know even +before I spoke to you.’ + +She had no answer except a long soft laugh, which was half smothered in +his arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +On Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons Canon Beecher enjoyed the +privilege of a fire in his study. He was supposed to be engaged at these +seasons in the preparation of his sermons, a serious and exacting work +which demanded solitude and profound quiet. In earlier years he really +had prepared his sermons painfully, but long practice brings to the +preacher a certain fatal facility. Old ideas are not improved by being +clothed in new phrases, and of new ideas--a new idea will occasionally +obtrude itself even on the Christian preacher--the Canon was exceedingly +mistrustful. The study was an unexciting and comparatively comfortable +room. The firelight on winter afternoons played pleasantly on the +dim gold backs of the works of St. Augustine, a fine folio edition +bequeathed to Mrs. Beecher by a scholarly uncle, which reposed +undisturbed along a lower shelf. Adventurous rays occasionally explored +a faded print of the Good Shepherd which hung above the books, and +gleamed upon the handle of the safe where the parish registers and +church plate were stored. The quiet and the process of digesting his +mid-day dinner frequently tempted the Canon to indulge in a series of +pleasant naps on Sunday afternoons. + +When Hyacinth tapped at the study door and entered, the room was almost +dark, and the sermon preparation, if proceeding at all, can have got no +further than the preliminary concatenation of ideas. The Canon, however, +was aggressively, perhaps suspiciously, wide awake. + +‘Who is that?’ he asked. ‘Oh, Conneally, it is you. I am very glad to +see you. Curiously enough, I thought of going down to call on you this +afternoon. I wanted to have a talk with you. I dare say you have come up +to consult me.’ + +Hyacinth was astonished. How could anyone have guessed what he came +about? Had Marion told her father already? + +‘It is a sad business,’ the Canon went on--’ very distressing and +perplexing indeed. But so far as you personally are concerned, +Conneally, I cannot regard it as an unmixed misfortune. You were meant +for something better, if I may say so, than selling blankets. Now, I +have a plan for your future, which I talked over last week with an old +friend of yours. Now that something has been settled about the Quinns, +we must all give our minds to your affairs.’ + +Then Hyacinth understood that Canon Beecher expected to be consulted +about his future plans, and even had some scheme of his own in mind. + +‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I shall be very glad of your help and advice, +although I think I have decided about what I am going to do. It was +not on that subject I came to speak to you to-day, but on another, more +important, I think, for you and for me and for Marion.’ + +‘For Marion?’ + +‘I ought to tell you at once that I love your daughter Marion, and I am +sure that she loves me. I want to marry her.’ + +‘My dear boy! I had not the slightest idea of this. It is one of the +most extraordinary things--or perhaps extraordinary is not exactly the +proper word--one of the most surprising things I----’ + +The Canon stopped abruptly and sat stroking his chin with his forefinger +in the effort to adjust his mind to the new situation presented to it. +It was characteristic of the man that the thought of Hyacinth’s poverty +was not the first which presented itself. Indeed, Canon Beecher was one +of those unreasonable Christians who are actually convinced of the truth +of certain paradoxical sayings in the Gospel about wealth and poverty. +He believed that there were things of more importance in life than the +possession of money. Fortunately, such Christians are rare, for their +absurd creed forms a standing menace to the existence of Church and +sect alike. Fortunately also, ecclesiastical authorities have sufficient +wisdom to keep these eccentrics in the background, confining them as far +as possible to remote and obscure places. If ever a few of them escape +into the open and find means of expressing themselves, the whole +machinery of modern religion will become dislocated, and the Church will +very likely relapse into the barbarity of the Apostolic age. + +‘I believe, Conneally,’ said the Canon at last, ‘that you are a good +man. I do not merely mean that you are moral and upright, but that you +sincerely desire to follow in the footsteps of the Master.’ + +He looked as if he wanted some kind of answer, at least a confirmation +of his belief. Fresh from his interview with Marion, and having the +Canon’s eyes upon him, it did not seem impossible to Hyacinth to answer +yes. Even the thought of the work he was to engage in with Miss Goold +and Patrick O’Dwyer seemed to offer no ground for hesitation. Was he +not enlisting with them to take part in the great battle? He had +never ceased to believe his father’s words: ‘And the battlefield is +Ireland--our dear Ireland which we love!’ He felt for the moment that +he was altogether prepared to make the confession of faith the Canon +required. + +‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am on His side.’ + +‘And you love Marion? Are you quite sure of that? Are you certain that +this is not a passing fancy?’ + +This time Hyacinth had no doubt whatever about his answer. + +‘I am as certain of my love as I am of anything in the world.’ + +‘I am glad. I am very glad that this has happened--for your sake, +because I have always liked you; also for Marion’s sake. I shall see you +happy because you love one another, and because you both love the Lord. +I ask no more than those two things. But I must go and tell my wife at +once. She will be glad, too.’ + +He rose and went to the door. With his hand stretched out to open it he +stopped, struck by a sudden thought. + +‘By the way, I ought to ask you--if you mean to be married--have you +any--I mean it is necessary--I hope you won’t think I am laying undue +stress upon such matters, but I really--I mean we really ought to +consider what you are to live upon.’ + +It was the prospect of imparting the news to his wife which forced this +speech from him. Mrs. Beecher was, indeed, the least worldly of women. +Did she not marry the Canon, then a mere curate, on the slenderest +income, and bear him successively five babies in defiance of common +prudence? But it had fallen to her lot to order the affairs of the +household, and she had learnt that the people who give you bread and +beef demand, after an interval, more or less money in exchange. It was +likely that, after her first rapture had subsided, she would make some +inquiry about Hyacinth’s income and prospects. The Canon felt he ought +to be prepared. + +‘Of course, I have lost my position with Mr. Quinn. You know that. But I +have an offer of work which I hope will lead on to something better, +and will enable me in a short time to earn enough money to marry on. +You know--or perhaps you don’t, for I am afraid I never told you’--he +remembered that he had carefully concealed his connection with the +_Croppy_ from his friends at Ballymoy, and paused--‘I have done some +little writing. Oh, nothing very much--not a book, or anything like +that, only a few articles for the press. Well, a friend of mine has got +me the offer of a post in connection with a weekly paper. It is not a +very great thing in itself just now, but it may improve, and there is +always the prospect of picking up other work of the same kind.’ + +The Canon, who had never seen even an abstract of one of his own sermons +in print, had a proper reverence for the men who guide the world’s +thought through the press. + +‘That is very good, Conneally--very satisfactory indeed. I always knew +you had brains. But why did you never tell me what you were doing? I +should have been deeply interested in anything you wrote.’ + +Hyacinth’s conscience smote him. + +‘The truth is, that I was sure you wouldn’t approve of the paper I +wrote for. It is the _Croppy_, the organ of the extreme left wing of the +Nationalist party. It is Miss Goold--Augusta Goold--who now offers me +work on that paper. She says---- But you had better read what she says +for yourself. Then you will know the worst of it.’ + +He took the letter from his pocket. The Canon lit a candle and read it +through slowly and attentively. When he had finished he laid it upon the +table and sat down. Hyacinth waited in extreme anxiety for what was to +come. + +‘I do not like the cause you mean to work for or the people you call +your friends. I would rather see my daughter’s husband doing almost +anything else in the world. I would be happier if you proposed to break +stones upon the roadside. You know what my political opinions are. +I regard the _Croppy_ as a disloyal and seditious paper, bent upon +fostering a dangerous spirit.’ + +Hyacinth listened patiently. He had steeled himself against the hearing +of some such words, and was determined not to be moved to argument or +self-defence except as a last resort. + +‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will at least give me credit for honestly +acting in accordance with my convictions.’ + +‘I am sure--quite sure--that you are honest, and believe that your cause +is the right one. I recognise, too, though this is a very difficult +thing to do, that you have every right to form and hold your own +political opinions. It seems to me that they are very wrong and very +mischievous, but it is quite possible that I am mistaken and prejudiced. +In any case, I am not called upon to refuse you my affection or to +separate you from my daughter because we differ about politics.’ + +Hyacinth breathed a great sigh of relief. He looked at the Canon in +wonder and admiration. It had been beyond hope that a man grown gray in +a narrow faith, a faith in which for centuries religion and politics had +been inextricably blended, could have risen in one clear flight above +the mire of prejudice. It seemed, even after he had spoken, impossible +that in Ireland, where political opponents believe each other to be +thieves and murderers, there could be found even one man, and he from +the least emancipated class of all, who could understand and practise +tolerance. + +‘I say,’ went on the Canon, speaking very slowly, and with evident +difficulty, ‘that I have no right to put you away from me because of +your political opinions. But there is something here ‘--he touched Miss +Goold’s letter--’ from which I must by all means try to save you. +Will you let me speak to you, not as Marion’s father, not even as your +friend, but as Christ’s ambassador set here to watch for your soul? But +I need not excuse myself for what I am about to say. You will at least +listen to me patiently.’ + +He took up Miss Goold’s letter and searched through it for a short time; +then he read aloud: + +‘“He just asked one question about you: Does Mr. Conneally hate England +and the Empire and everything English, from the Parliament to the police +barrack? For it is this hatred which must animate our work. I said +I thought you did.” Now consider what those words mean. You are to +dedicate your powers, the talents God has given you, to preaching +a gospel of hate. This is not a question of politics. I am ready +to believe that in the contest of which our unhappy country is the +battle-ground a man may be either on your side or mine, and yet be +a follower of Christ. It is impossible to think that anyone can +deliberately, with his eyes open, accept hatred for the inspiration of +his life and still be true to Him.’ + +Hyacinth was greatly moved by the solemnity with which the Canon spoke. +There was that in him which witnessed to the truth of what he heard. Yet +he refused to be convinced. When he spoke it was clear that he was not +addressing his companion, for his eyes were fixed upon the picture of +the Good Shepherd, faintly illuminated by the candle light. He desired +to order his own thought on the dilemma, to justify, if he could, his +own position to himself. ‘It is true that the Gospel of Christ is a +Gospel of love. Yet there are circumstances in which it is wrong to +follow it. Is it possible to rouse our people out of their sordid +apathy, to save Ireland for a place among the nations, except by +preaching a mighty indignation against the tyranny which has crushed us +to the dust?’ + +He felt that Canon Beecher’s eyes never left him for a moment while he +spoke. He looked up, and saw in them an intense pleading. There +stole over him a desire to yield, to submit himself to this appealing +tenderness. He defended himself desperately against his weakness. + +‘I am not choosing the pleasanter way. It would be easier for me to give +up the fight for Ireland, to desert the beaten side, to forget the lost +cause.’ He turned to Canon Beecher, speaking almost fiercely: ‘Do you +think it is a small thing for me to surrender your friendship, and +perhaps--perhaps to lose Marion? Is there not _some_ of the nobility of +sacrifice in refusing to listen to you?’ + +‘I cannot argue with you. No doubt you are cleverer than I am. But I +_know_ this--God is love, and only he who dwelleth in love dwelleth in +God.’ + +‘But I do love: I love Ireland.’ + +‘Ah yes; but He says, “Love your enemies.”’ + +‘Then,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I will not have Him for my God.’ + +Hardly had he spoken than he started and grew suddenly cold. It was no +doubt some trick of memory, but he believed that he heard very faintly +from far off a remembered voice: + +‘Will you be sure to know the good side from the bad, the Captain from +the enemy.’ + +They were the last words his father had said to him. They had passed +unregarded when they were spoken, but lingered unthought of in some +recess of his memory. Now they came on him full of meaning, insistent +for an answer. + +‘You have chosen,’ said the Canon. + +He had chosen. Could he be sure that he had chosen right, that he knew +the good side from the bad? + +‘You have chosen, and I have no more to say. Only, before it becomes +impossible for you and me to kneel together, I ask you to let me pray +with you once more. You can do this because you still believe He hears +us, although you have decided to walk no more with Him.’ + +They knelt together, and Hyacinth, numbly indifferent, felt his hand +grasped and held. + +‘O Christ,’ said Canon Beecher, ‘this child of Thine has chosen to live +by hatred rather than by love. Do Thou therefore remove love from him, +lest it prove a hindrance to him on the way on which he goes. Let the +memory of the cross be blotted out from his mind, so that he may do +successfully that which he desires.’ + +Hyacinth wrenched his hand free from the grasp which held it, and flung +himself forward across the table at which they knelt. Except for his +sobs and his choking efforts to subdue them, there was silence in the +room. Canon Beecher rose from his knees and stood watching him, his lips +moving with unspoken supplication. At last Hyacinth also rose and stood, +calm suddenly. + +‘You have conquered me,’ he said. + +‘My son, my son, this is joy indeed! All along I knew He could not fail +you. But I have not conquered you. The Lord Jesus has saved you.’ + +‘I do not know,’ said Hyacinth slowly, ‘whether I have been saved or +lost. I am not sure even now that I know the good side from the bad. +But I do know that I cannot live without the hope of being loved by Him. +Whether it is the better part to which I resign myself I cannot tell. +No doubt He knows. As for me, if I have been forced to make a great +betrayal, if I am to live hereafter very basely--and I think I am--at +least I have not cut myself off from the opportunity of loving Him.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +Canon Beecher took no notice of Hyacinth’s last speech. He had returned +with amazing swiftness and ease from the region of high emotion to the +commonplace. Excursions to the shining peaks of mystical experience are +for most men so rare that the glory leaves them with dazzled eyes, and +they walk stumblingly for a while along the dull roads of the world. +But Canon Beecher, in the course of his pleading with Hyacinth, had been +only in places very well known to him. The presence chamber of the King +was to him also the room of a familiar friend. It was no breathless +descent from the green hill of the cross to the thoroughfare of common +life. + +‘Now, my dear boy,’ he said, ‘we really must go and talk to my wife and +Marion. Besides, I must tell you the plan I have made for you--the plan +I was just going to speak about when you put it out of my head with the +news of your love-making.’ + +For Hyacinth a great effort was necessary before he could get back to +his normal state. His hands were trembling violently. His forehead and +hair were damp with sweat. His whole body was intensely cold. His mind +was confused, and he listened to what was said to him with only the +vaguest apprehension of its meaning. The Canon laid a firm hand upon +his arm, and led him away from the study. In the passage he stopped, and +asked Hyacinth to go back and blow out the candle which still burned on +the study table. + +‘And just put some turf on the fire,’ he added; ‘I don’t want it to go +out.’ + +The pause enabled Hyacinth to regain his self-command, and the +performance of the perfectly ordinary acts required of him helped to +bring him back again to common life. + +When they entered the drawing-room it was evident that Mrs. Beecher had +already heard the news, and was, in fact, discussing the matter eagerly +with Marion. She sprang up, and hastened across the room to meet them. + +‘I am so glad,’ she said--‘so delighted! I am sure you and Marion will +be happy together.’ + +She took Hyacinth’s hands in hers, and held them while she spoke, then +drew nearer to him and looked up in his face expectantly. A fearful +suspicion seized him that on an occasion of the kind she might consider +it right to kiss him. It was with the greatest difficulty that he +suppressed a wholly unreasonable impulse to laugh aloud. Apparently the +need of such affectionate stimulant was strong in Mrs. Beecher. When +Hyacinth hung back, she left him for her husband, put her arms round his +neck, and kissed him heartily on both cheeks. + +‘Isn’t it fortunate,’ she said, ‘that you saw Dr. Henry last week while +you were in Dublin? You little thought how important that talk with him +was going to turn out--I mean, of course, important for us. It always +was important for Mr.--I mean for Hyacinth.’ + +The Canon seemed a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat somewhat +unnecessarily, and then said: + +‘I haven’t mentioned that matter yet.’ + +‘Not mentioned Dr. Henry’s offer! Then, what have you been talking about +all this time?’ + +It did not seem necessary to tell Mrs. Beecher all that had been said, +or to repeat the scene in the study for her benefit. The Canon cleared +his throat again. + +‘I was in Dublin last week attending a meeting of the Scriptural Schools +Society, and I met Dr. Henry. We were talking about the Quinns. I told +you that Mr. Quinn is to be the new secretary of the society, didn’t I? +Dr. Henry knows Mr. Quinn slightly, and was greatly interested in him. +Your name naturally was mentioned. Dr. Henry seems to have taken a +warm interest in you when you were in college, and to have a very high +opinion of your abilities. He did not know what had become of you, and +was very pleased to hear that you were a friend of ours.’ + +Hyacinth knew at once what was coming--knew what Canon Beecher’s plan +for his future was, and why he was pleased with it; understood how Mrs. +Beecher came to describe this conversation with Dr. Henry as fortunate. +He waited for the rest of the recital, vaguely surprised at his own want +of feeling. + +‘I told him,’ the Canon went on, eying Hyacinth doubtfully, ‘that you +had lost your employment here. I hope you don’t object to my +having mentioned that. I am sure you wouldn’t if you had heard how +sympathetically he spoke of you. He assured me that he was most anxious +to help you in any way in his power. He just asked one question about +you.’ Hyacinth started. Where had he heard those identical words before? +Oh yes, they were in Miss Goold’s letter. Patrick O’Dwyer also had just +asked one question about him. He smiled faintly as the Canon went on: +‘“Is he fit, spiritually fit, to be ordained? For it is the desire to +serve God which must animate our work.” I said I thought you were. I +told him how you sang in our choir here, and how fond you seemed of our +quiet life, and what a good fellow you are. You see, I did not know then +that I was praising the man who is to be my son-in-law. He asked me to +remind you of a promise he had once made, and to say that he was ready +to fufil it. I understood him to mean that he would recommend you to any +Bishop you like for ordination.’ + +Hyacinth remained silent. He felt that in surrendering his work for the +_Croppy_ he surrendered also his right to make any choice. He was ready +to be shepherded into any position, like a sheep into a pen. And he +had no particular wish to resist. He saw a simple satisfaction in Mrs. +Beecher’s face and a beautiful joy in Marion’s eyes. It was impossible +for him to disappoint them. He smiled a response to Mrs. Beecher’s +kindly triumph. + +‘Isn’t that splendid! Now you and Marion will be able to be married +quite soon, and I do dislike long engagements. Of course, you will be +very poor at first, but no poorer than we were. And Marion is not afraid +of being poor--are you, dear?’ + +‘That is just what I have been saying to him,’ said Marion; ‘isn’t it, +Hyacinth? Of course I am not afraid. I have always said that if I ever +married I should like to marry a clergyman, and if one does that one is +sure to be poor.’ + +Evidently there was no doubt in either of their minds that Hyacinth +would accept Dr. Henry’s offer. Nor had he any doubt himself. The thing +seemed too inevitable to be anything but right. Only on Canon Beecher’s +face there lingered a shadow of uncertainty. Hyacinth saw it, and +relieved his mind at once. + +‘I shall write to Dr. Henry to-night and thank him. I shall ask him to +try and get me a curacy as soon as possible.’ + +‘Thank you,’ said the Canon. + +‘I think,’ added Hyacinth, ‘that I should prefer getting work in +England.’ + +‘Oh, why,’ said Mrs. Beecher. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay in Ireland! +and then we might have Marion somewhere within reach.’ + +‘My dear,’ said the Canon, ‘we must let Hyacinth decide for himself. I +am sure he knows what is wisest for him to do.’ + +Hyacinth was not at all sure that he knew what was wisest, and he was +quite certain that he had not decided for himself in any matter of the +slightest importance. He had suggested an English curacy in the vague +hope that it might be easier there to forget his hopes and dreams for +Ireland. It seemed to him, too, that a voluntary exile, of which he +could not think without pain, might be a kind of atonement for the +betrayal of his old enthusiasm. + +The Canon followed him to the door when he left. + +‘My dear boy’--there was a break in his voice as he spoke--’ my dear +boy, you have made me very happy. I am sure that you will not enter upon +the work of the ministry from any unworthy motive. The call will become +clearer to you by degrees. I mean the inward call. The outward call, the +leading of circumstance, has already made abundantly plain the way you +ought to walk in. The other will come--the voice which brings assurance +and peace when it speaks.’ + +Hyacinth looked at him wistfully. There seemed very little possibility +of anything like assurance for him, and only such peace as might be +gained by smothering the cries with which his heart assailed him. The +Canon held his hand and wrung it. + +‘I can understand why you want to go to England. Your political opinions +will interfere very little with your work there. Here, of course, it +would be different. Yes, your choice is certainly wise, for nothing +must be allowed to hinder your work. “Laying aside every weight,” you +remember, “let us run the race.” Yes, I understand.’ + +It was perfectly clear to Hyacinth that the Canon did not understand in +the least. It was not likely that anyone ever would understand. + +Gradually his despondency gave way before the crowding in of thoughts of +satisfaction. He was to have Marion, to live with her, to love her, and +be loved by her as long as they both lived. He saw life stretching out +before him, a sunlit, pleasant journey in Marion’s company. It did not +seem to him that any trouble could be really bad, any disappointment +intolerable, any toil oppressive with her love for an atmosphere round +him. He believed, too, that the work he was undertaking was a good work, +perhaps the highest and noblest kind of work there is to be done in the +world. From this conviction also came a glow of happiness. Yet there +kept recurring chill shudderings of self-reproach. Something within him +kept whispering that he had bartered his soul for happiness. + +‘I have chosen the easier and therefore the baser way,’ he said. ‘I have +shrunk from toil and pain. I have refused to make the sacrifice demanded +of me.’ + +He went back again to the story of his father’s vision. For a moment +it seemed quite clear that he had deliberately refused the call to the +great fight, that he had judged himself unworthy, being cowardly and +selfish in his heart. Then he remembered that the Captain of whom his +father had told him was no one else but Christ, the same Christ of whom +Canon Beecher spoke, the Good Shepherd whose love he had discovered to +be the greatest need of all. + +‘I must have Him,’ he said--‘I must have Him--and Marion.’ + +Again with the renewed decision came a glow of happiness and a sense of +rest, until there rose, as if to smite him, the thought of Ireland--of +Ireland, poor, derided of strangers, deserted by her sons, roped in as +a prize-ring where selfish men struggle ignobly for sordid gains. The +children of the land fled from it sick with despair. Its deserted houses +were full of all doleful things. Cormorants and the daughters of the owl +lodged in the lintels of them. + +Sullen desolation was on the threshold, while satyrs cried to their +fellows across tracts of brown rush-grown land. Aliens came to hiss and +passed by wagging their hands. Over all was the monotony of the gray +sky, descending and still descending with clouds that came upon the +land, mistily folding it in close embraces of death. Voices sounded far +off and unreal through the gloom. The final convulsive struggles of the +nation’s life grew feebler and fewer. Of all causes Ireland’s seemed the +most hopelessly lost. Was he, too, going to forsake her? He felt that in +spite of all the good promised him there would always hang over his life +a gloom that even Marion’s love would not disperse, the heavy shadow of +Ireland’s Calvary. For Marion there would be no such darkness, nor would +Marion understand it. But surely Christ understood. Words of His crowded +to the memory. ‘When He beheld the city He wept over it, saying, +Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem!’ Most certainly He understood this, as He +understood all human emotion. He, too, had yearned over a nation’s fall, +had felt the heartbreak of the patriot. + +‘I have chosen Him,’ he said at last. ‘Once having caught a glimpse of +Him, I could not do without Him. He understands it all, and He has given +me Marion.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +It was a brilliant July day, and the convent at Robeen was decked for a +festival. The occasion was a very great one. Cloth of gold hung in the +chapel, the entrance-hall was splendid with flowers, and the whole +white front of the buildings had put on signs of holiday. Indeed, +this festival was unique, the very greatest day in the history of the +sisterhood. Easter, Christmas, and the saints’ days recurred annually +in their proper order, and the emotions they brought with them were no +doubt familiar to holy ladies whose business it was to live in close +touch with the other world. But on this day the great of the earth, +beings much more unapproachable, as a rule, than the saints, were to +visit the convent. Honour was to be paid to ladies whose magnificence +was guaranteed by worldly titles; to the Proconsuls of the far-off +Imperial power, holders of the purse-strings of the richest nation +upon earth; to Judges accustomed to sit in splendid robes and awful +head-dresses, pronouncing the doom of malefactors; to a member of the +Cabinet, a very mighty man, though untitled; and quite possibly--a +glittering hope--to the Lord Lieutenant himself. + +It was therefore no wonder that the nuns had decked their convent +with all possible splendour. On each side of the iron gateway was a +flag-post. From the top of one fluttered the green banner of Ireland, +with its gold harp and a great crown over it. From the other hung +the Union Jack, emblem of that marriage of nationalities for whose +consummation eight centuries have not sufficed. It was hoisted upside +down--not with intentional disrespect, but because Sister Gertrude, who +superintended this part of the decorations, had long ago renounced the +world, and did not remember that the tangled crosses had a top or a +bottom to them. Between the posts hung a festoon of signalling flags, +long pointed strips of bunting with red balls or blue on them. The +central streamer just tipped as it fluttered the top of the iron cross +which marked the religious nature of the gateway. The straight gravel +walk inside was covered with red baize, and on each side of it were +planted tapering poles, round which crimson and white muslin circled +in alternate stripes, giving them the appearance of huge old-fashioned +sugar-sticks. These added to the gaiety of the scene, though it cannot +be supposed that they were of any actual use. The most bewildered +visitor was hardly likely to stray off the red baize or miss his way to +the door in front of him. Within the great entrance-hall were palms and +flowering shrubs in pots or tubs. The mosaic flooring, imported from +Italy, and a source of pride to all the Sisters, shone with much washing +and polishing. The Madonna with the blue eyes and the golden crown, +before which even Bishops crossed themselves, was less in evidence than +usual, for the expected guests were mostly heretics. She stood retired +behind the flower-pots, and veiled her benignity with the leaves of +palms. + +Right and left of the hall stretched corridors, whose shining parquet +invited the curious to explore the working-rooms and eating-rooms which +lay beyond. The door of the chapel stood open, and offered a vision +of simpering angels crowding the canvas of the altar-piece, a +justly-admired specimen of German religious art. Before it, dimly +seen, two nuns knelt, types of conventual piety, absorbed in spiritual +contemplation amid the tumult of the world’s invasion of their +sanctuary. Another door led to the garden. Here a fountain played into a +great stone basin, and neat gravel walks intersected each other at sharp +angles among flower-beds. The grass which lay around the maze of paths +was sacred as a rule, even from the list slippers of the nuns, but +to-day booths stood on it like stalls at a charity bazaar, hung with +tweeds, blankets, and stockings. A tall Calvary lowered incongruously +over one. An inferior Madonna, deposed from her old station in the +entrance-hall, presided in a weather-beaten blue robe over another. + +Beyond the garden, blocked off from it by a white wall, lay the factory +itself, the magnet which was drawing the great of the earth to the +nunnery. Here were the workers, all of them bright young women, smiling +pleasantly and well washed for the occasion. They were dressed in neat +violet petticoats and white blouses, with shawls thrown back from their +heads, a glorified presentment of the Mayo woman’s working dress. Here +and there, a touch of realism creditable to the Reverend Mother’s talent +for stage management, one sat in bare feet--not, of course, dust or mud +stained, as bare feet are apt to be in Connaught, but clean. The careful +observer of detail might have been led to suppose that the Sisters +improved upon the practice of the Holy Father himself, and daily washed +the feet of the poor. + +Everywhere fresh-complexioned, gentle-faced nuns flitted silently about. +The brass crosses pendent over their breasts relieved with a single +glitter the sombre folds of their robes. Snowy coifs, which had cost the +industrial schoolgirls of a sister house hours of labour and many tears, +shone, glazed and unwrinkled, round their heads. Even the youngest of +them had acquired the difficult art of walking gracefully with her hands +folded in front of her. + +At about two o’clock the visitors began to arrive, although the train +from Dublin which was to bring the very elect was not due for another +half-hour. Lady Geoghegan, grown pleasantly stout and cheerfully +benignant, came by a local train, and rejoiced the eyes of beholders +with a dress made of one of the convent tweeds. Sir Gerald followed +her, awkward and unwilling. He had been dragged with difficulty from his +books and the society of his children, and was doubtful whether a cigar +in a nunnery garden might not be counted sacrilege. With them was +a wonderful person--an English priest: it was thus he described +himself--whom Lady Geoghegan had met in Yorkshire. His charming manners +and good Church principles had won her favour and earned him the holiday +he was enjoying at Clogher House. He was arrayed in a pair of gray +trousers, a white shirt, and a blazer with the arms of Brazenose College +embroidered on the pocket, his sacerdotal character being marked only +by his collar. He leaped gaily from the car which brought them from the +station, and, as he assisted his hostess to alight, amazed the little +crowd around the gate by chaffing the driver in an entirely unknown +tongue. The good man had an ear for music, and plumed himself on his +ability to pick up any dialect he heard--Scotch, Yorkshire, or Irish +brogue. The driver was bewildered, but smiled pleasantly. He realized +that the gentleman was a foreigner, and since the meaning of his speech +was not clear, it was quite likely that he might be hazy about the value +of money and the rates of car hire. + +The Duchess of Drummin came in her landau. Like Lady Geoghegan, she +marked the national and industrial nature of the occasion in her attire. +At much personal inconvenience, for the day was warm, she wore a long +cloak of rich brown tweed, adorned with rows of large leather-covered +buttons. Lady Josephine Maguire fluttered after her. She had bidden +her maid disguise a dress, neither Irish nor homespun, with as much +Carrickmacross lace as could be attached to it. Lord Eustace, who +represented his father, appeared in all the glory of a silk hat and a +frock-coat. He eyed Sir Gerald’s baggy trousers and shabby wideawake +with contempt, and turned away his eyes from beholding the vanity of +obviously bad form when he came face to face with the English priest in +his blazer. + +A smiling nun took charge of each party as it arrived. Lady Geoghegan +plied hers with questions, and received a series of quite uninforming +answers. Her husband followed her, bent principally upon escaping +from the precincts if he could. Already he was bored, and he knew that +speeches from great men were in store for him if he were forced to +linger. The Duchess of Drummin eyed each object presented to her notice +gravely through long-handled glasses, but gave her attendant nun very +little conversational help. Lady Josephine made every effort to be +intelligent, and inquired in a dormitory where the looking-glasses +were. She was amazed to hear that the nuns did, or failed to do, their +hair--the head-dresses concealed the result of their efforts--without +mirrors. Lord Eustace was preoccupied. Amid his unaccustomed +surroundings he walked uncertain whether to keep his hat on his head +or hold it in his hands. The English priest, whose name was Austin, got +detached from Lady Geoghegan, and picked up a stray nun for himself. She +took him, by his own request, straight to the chapel. He crossed himself +with elaborate care on entering, and knelt for a moment before the +altar. The nun was delighted. + +‘So you, too, are a Catholic?’ + +‘Certainly,’ he replied briskly--‘an English Catholic.’ + +‘Ah! many of our priests go to England. Perhaps you have met Father +O’Connell. He is on a London mission.’ + +‘No,’ said Mr. Austin, ‘I do not happen to have met him. My church is in +Yorkshire.’ + +The nun gazed at him in amazement. + +‘Your church! Then you are---- + +‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am a priest.’ + +Her eyes slowly travelled over him. They began at the gray trousers, +passed to the blazer, resting a moment on the college arms, which +certainly suggested the ecclesiastical, and remained fixed on his +collar. After all, why should she, a humble nun, doubt his word when he +said he was a priest? Perhaps he might belong to some order of which +she had never heard. Eccentricities of costume might be forced on the +English clergy by Protestant intolerance. She smothered her uncertainty, +and took him at his word. They went together into the garden. Mr. Austin +took off his hat before the tarnished Madonna, and crossed himself +again. The nun’s doubts vanished. + +‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to buy some of this tweed. Is it +for sale?’ + +‘Oh, certainly. Sister Aloysia will sell it to you. We are so glad, so +very glad, when anyone will buy what our poor workers make. It is all a +help to the good cause.’ + +‘Now this,’ said Mr. Austin, fingering a bright-green cloth, ‘would make +a nice lady’s dress. Don’t you think so?’ + +The nun cast down her eyes. + +‘I do not know, Father, about dresses. Sister Aloysia, the Reverend +Father wants to buy tweed to make a dress for ‘--she hesitated; perhaps +it was his niece, but he looked young to have a full-grown niece--‘for +his sister.’ + +Sister Aloysia looked round her, puzzled. She saw no Reverend Father. + +‘This,’ said the other, ‘is Father--Father----’ + +‘Austin,’ he helped her out. + +‘Father Austin,’ added the nun. + +‘And you wish,’ said Sister Aloysia, ‘to buy a dress for your sister?’ + +‘Not for my sister,’ said Mr. Austin--‘for my wife.’ + +Both nuns started back as if he had tried to strike them. + +‘Your wife! Your wife! Then you are a Protestant.’ + +‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘I detest all Protestants. I am a Catholic--an +Anglo-Catholic.’ + +Neither of the nuns had ever heard of an Anglo-Catholic before. +What manner of religion such people might profess was doubtful and +unimportant. One thing was clear--this was not a priest in any sense of +the word which they could recognise. They distrusted him, as a wolf, +not certainly in the clothing, but using the language, of a sheep. The +situation became embarrassing. Mr. Austin prepared to bow himself away. + +‘I think,’ he said, ‘I shall ask Lady Geoghegan’--he rolled the title +out emphatically; it formed a salve to his wounded dignity--‘I shall ask +Lady Geoghegan to purchase the tweed for me. I must be on the look-out +for a friend who promised to meet me here this afternoon--a young man +whom I contemplate engaging as my curate. I am most particular in the +choice of a curate, and should, of course, prefer a public school +and ‘Varsity man. I need scarcely say that I refer only to Oxford and +Cambridge as the Universities. As a rule, I do not care for Irishmen, +but on the recommendation of my friend Dr. Henry, I am willing to +consider this Mr. Conneally.’ + +It seemed to Mr. Austin that a preference for the English Universities, +the friendship of a distinguished professor, a contempt for the mere +Irishman, and a titled hostess ought to restore the respect he had +forfeited by the mention of his wife. Curiously enough, and this shows +the disadvantage of a monastic seclusion from the world, the nuns +remained unimpressed. The conception of a married priest was too much +for them. As he walked away Mr. Austin heard Sister Aloysia murmur: + +‘How very indecent!’ + +Meanwhile, the train from Dublin had arrived, and Mr. Austin, when he +returned after his interview with Hyacinth, found that even the two nuns +he had victimized had forgotten him in the excitement of gazing at +more important visitors. Mr. Justice Saunders, a tall, stout man with a +florid face, made a tour of the factory under the charge of one of the +senior Sisters. He took little notice of what he was shown, being +mainly bent on explaining to his escort how he came to be known in legal +circles as ‘Satan Saunders.’ Afterwards he added a tale of how he had +once bluffed a crowd in an out-of-the-way country town into giving three +cheers for the Queen. + +‘You’re all loyal here,’ he said. ‘I saw the Union Jack flying over the +gate as I came in.’ + +The nun smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile, and the Judge, watching her, +was struck by her innocence and simplicity. + +‘Surely,’ she said, ‘the Church must always be loyal.’ + +‘Well, I’m not so sure of that. I’ve met a few firebrands of priests in +my time.’ + +‘Oh, those!’ she said with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘You must not think +of them. It will always be easy to keep them in order when the time +comes. They spring from the cabins. What can you expect of them? But the +Church---- Can the Church fail of respect for the Sovereign?’ + +Mr. Clifford and Mr. Davis followed Judge Saunders. They were members of +the Congested Districts Board, and it was clear from the manner of +the nun who escorted them that they were guests of very considerable +importance in her estimation. Mr. Clifford was an Englishman who had +been imported to assist in governing Ireland because he was married to +the sister of the Chief Secretary’s wife. He was otherwise qualified +for the task by possessing a fair knowledge of the points of a horse. He +believed that he knew Ireland and the Irish people thoroughly. + +His colleague, Mr. Davis, was a man of quite a different stamp. The +son of a Presbyterian farmer in County Tyrone, he had joined the Irish +Parliamentary party, and made himself particularly objectionable in +Westminster. He had devoted his talents to discovering and publishing +the principles upon which appointments to lucrative posts are made +by the officials in Dublin Castle. It was found convenient at last to +provide him with a salary and a seat on the Congested Districts Board. +Thus he found himself engaged in ameliorating the lot of the Connaught +peasants. Mr. Clifford used to describe him as ‘a bit of a bounder--in +fact, a complete outsider--but no fool.’ His estimate of Mr. Clifford +was perhaps less complimentary. + +‘Every business,’ he used to say, ‘must have at least one gentleman in +it to do the entertaining and the dining out. We have Mr. Clifford. He’s +a first-rate man at one of the Lord Lieutenant’s balls.’ + +A professor from Trinity College was one of the two guests conducted by +the Reverend Mother herself. Nominally this learned gentleman existed +for the purpose of impressing upon the world the beauties of Latin +poetry, but he was best known to fame as an orator on the platforms +of the Primrose League, and a writer of magazine articles on Irish +questions. He was a man who owed his success in life largely to his +faculty for always keeping beside the most important person present. The +Lord Lieutenant, being slightly indisposed, had been unable to make an +early start, so the most honourable stranger was Mr. Chesney, the Chief +Secretary. To him Professor Cairns attached himself, and received a +share of the Reverend Mother’s blandishments. + +Mr. Chesney himself was dapper and smiling as usual. Even the early +hour at which he had been obliged to leave home had neither ruffled his +temper nor withered the flower in his buttonhole. He spent his money +generously at the various stalls in the garden, addressed friendly +remarks to the women in the factory, and asked the questions with which +Mr. Davis had primed him in the train. + +Quite a crowd of minor people followed the great statesman. There were +barristers who hoped to become County Court Judges, and ladies who +enjoyed a novel kind of occasion for displaying their clothes, hoping to +see their names afterwards in the newspaper accounts of the proceedings. +There were a few foremen from leading Dublin shops, who foresaw the +possibility of a fashionable boom in Robeen tweeds and flannels. There +were also reporters from the Dublin papers, and a representative--Miss +O’Dwyer--of a syndicate which supplied ladies’ journals with accounts of +the clothes worn at fashionable functions. + +The supreme moment of the day arrived when the company assembled to +listen to words of wisdom from the orators selected to address them. +Seats had been provided by carting in forms from the neighbouring +national schools. A handsomely-carved chair of ecclesiastical design +awaited Mr. Chesney. + +He opened his speech by assuring his audience that there was no occasion +for him to address them at all, a truth which struck home to the heart +of Sir Gerald, who was trying to arrange himself comfortably at a desk +designed for a class of infants. + +‘Facts,’ Mr. Chesney explained himself, ‘are more eloquent than words. +You have seen what I could never have described to you--the contented +workers in this factory and the artistic designs of the fabrics they +weave. Many of you remember what Robeen was a few years ago--a howling +wilderness. We are told on high authority that even the wilderness shall +blossom as a rose.’ + +He bowed in the direction of the Reverend Mother, possibly with a +feeling that it was suitable to acknowledge her presence when quoting +Holy Writ, possibly with a vague idea that she might consider herself +a spiritual descendant of the Prophet Isaiah. ‘You see it now a hive of +happy industry.’ + +He observed with pleasure that the reporters were busy with their +note-books, and he knew that these editors of public utterance might be +relied on to unravel a tangled metaphor before publishing a speech. He +went on light-heartedly, confident that in the next day’s papers his +wilderness would blossom into something else, and that the hive, if +it appeared at all, would be arrived at by some other process than +blossoming. The habit of rolling out agreeable platitudes to audiences +forced to listen is one which grows on public men as dram-drinking does +on the common herd. Mr. Chesney was evidently enjoying himself, and +there seemed no reason why he should ever stop. He could, and perhaps +would, have gone on for hours but for the offensive way in which Judge +Saunders snapped the case of his watch at the end of every period. There +was really no hurry, for the special train which was to bring them back +to Dublin would certainly wait until they were ready for it. Mr. Chesney +felt aggrieved at the repeated interruption, and closed his speech +without giving the audience the benefit of his peroration. + +The Judge came next, and began with reminding his hearers that he +was known as ‘Satan Saunders.’ An account of the origin of the name +followed, and was enjoyed even by those who had listened to the Judge’s +oratory before, and therefore knew the story. There was something +piquant, almost _risqué_, in the constant repetition of a really wicked +word like ‘Satan’ in the halls of a nunnery. The audience laughed +reassuringly, and the Judge went on to supply fresh pabulum for mirth by +suggesting that the Reverend Mother should clothe her nuns in their own +tweeds. He was probably right in supposing that the new costumes would +add a gaiety to the religious life. Other jests followed, and he sat +down amid a flutter of applause after promising that when he next +presided over the Winter Assizes in a draughty court-house he would send +for a Robeen blanket and wrap his legs in it. + +Mr. Clifford, who followed the Judge, began by wondering whether anyone +present had ever been in Lancashire. After a pause, during which no one +owned to having crossed the Channel, he said that Lancashire was the +home of the modern factory. There every man and woman earned good wages, +wore excellent clothes, and lived in a house fitted with hot and cold +water taps and a gas-meter. It was his hope to see Mayo turned into +another Lancashire. When ladies of undoubted commercial ability, like +the Lady Abbess who presided over the Robeen convent--Lady Abbess +sounded well, and Mr. Clifford was not strong on ecclesiastical +titles--took the matter up, success was assured. All that was required +for the development of the factory system in Mayo was capital, and that +‘we, the Congested Districts Board, are in a position to supply.’ With +the help of some prompting from Mr. Davis, he proceeded to lay +before the audience a few figures purporting to explain the Board’s +expenditure. + +Professor Cairns was evidently anxious to follow Mr. Clifford, if only +in the humble capacity of the proposer of a vote of thanks. But his +name was not on the programme, and Mr. Chesney was already engaged in a +whispered conversation with the Reverend Mother. Ignoring the professor, +almost rudely, he announced that the company in general was invited to +tea in the dining-room. + +The refreshments provided, if not substantial, were admirable in +quality. There happened just then to be a young lady engaged, at the +expense of the County Council, in teaching cookery in a neighbouring +convent. She was sent over to Robeen for the occasion, and made a number +of delightful cakes at extremely small expense. The workers in the +factory had given the butter she required as a thank-offering, and the +necessary eggs came from another convent where the nuns, with financial +assistance from the Congested Districts Board, kept a poultry-farm. +The Reverend Mother dispensed her hospitality with the same air of +generosity with which Mr. Clifford had spoken of providing capital for +the future ecclesiastical factories. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +The Reverend Mother bowed out the last of her guests, and retired to +her own room well satisfied. She was assured of further support from +the Congested Districts Board, and certain debts which had grown +uncomfortably during her struggle with Mr. Quinn need trouble her no +longer. Her goods would be extensively advertised next morning in the +daily press. Her house would obtain a celebrity likely to attract +the most eligible novices--those, that is to say, who would bring the +largest sums of money as their dowries. There arose before her mind a +vision of almost unbounded wealth and all that might be done with it. +What statues of saints might not Italy supply! French painters and +German organ-builders would compete for the privilege of furnishing the +chapel of her house. Already she foresaw pavements of gorgeous mosaic, +windows radiant with Munich glass, and store of vestments to make +her sacristy famous. Grandiose plans suggested themselves of founding +daughter houses in Melbourne, in Auckland, in Capetown, in Natal. All +things were possible to a well-filled purse. She saw how her Order +might open schools in English towns, where girls could be taught French, +Italian, Latin, music, all the accomplishments dear to middle-class +parents, at ridiculously low fees, or without fees at all. She stirred +involuntarily at the splendour of her visions. The day’s weariness +dropped off from her. She rose from her chair and went into the chapel. +She prostrated herself before the altar, and lay passive in a glow of +warm emotion. For God, for the Mother of God, for the Catholic Church, +she had laboured and suffered and dared. Now she was well within sight +of the end, the golden reward, the fulfilment of hopes that had never +been altogether selfish. + +Her thoughts, sanctified now by the Presence on the altar, drifted out +again on to the shining sea of the future. What she, a humble nun, +had done others would do. A countless army of missionary men and women +marching from the Irish shore would conquer the world’s conquerors, +regain for the Church the Anglo-Saxon race. Once in the far past Irish +men and women had Christianized Europe, and Ireland had won her glorious +title, ‘Island of Saints.’ Now the great day was to dawn again, the +great race to be reborn. For this end had Ireland been kept faithful and +pure for centuries, just that she might be at last the witness to +the spiritual in a materialized world. For this end had the Church in +Ireland gone through the storm of persecution, suffered the blight of +the world’s contempt, that she might emerge in the end entirely fitted +for the bloodless warfare. + +‘And I am one of the race, a daughter of Ireland. And I am a +worker--nay, one who has accomplished something--in the vineyard of the +Church. Ah, God!’ + +She was swept forward on a wave of emotion. Thought ceased, expiring +in the ecstasy of a communion which transcended thought. Then suddenly, +sharp as an unexpected pain, an accusation shot across her soul, +shattering the coloured glory of the trance in an instant. + +‘Who am I that I should boast?’ + +The long years of introspection, the discipline of hundreds of +heart-searching confessions, the hardly-learned lesson of self-distrust, +made it possible for her to recognise the vain-glory even with the halo +of devotion shining round it. She abased herself in penitence. + +‘Give me the work, my Lord; give others the glory and the fruit of it. +Let me toil, but withhold the reward from me. May my eyes not see it, +lest I be lifted up! Nay, give me not even work to do, lest I should be +praised or learn to praise myself. “Nunc dimittis servam tuam, Domine, +secundum verbum tuum in pace.”’ + +There stole over her a sense of peace--numb, silent peace--wholly unlike +the satisfaction which had flooded her in her own room or during the +earlier ecstasy before the altar. She raised her eyes slowly till they +rested on the shrine where the body of the sacrifice reposed. + +‘Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum.’ + +At last she rose. The lines of care and age gathered again upon her +face. Her eyes gleamed with keen intelligence. She braced herself with +the thought of all that might still lie before her. The advice of Iago, +strangely sanctified, clamoured in her heart--‘Put money in thy purse.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +The Reverend Mother was not the only person well satisfied with the +day. The Right Hon. T. J. Chesney leant back in his saloon-carriage, +and puffed contentedly at his cigar. It might be his part +occasionally--indeed, frequently--to talk like a fool, but the man was +shrewd enough. It really seemed that he had hit on the true method of +governing Ireland. Nationalist members of Parliament could be muzzled, +not by the foolish old methods of coercion, but by winning the goodwill +of the Bishops. No Irish member dared open his mouth when a priest +bid him keep it shut, or give a vote contrary to the wishes of the +hierarchy. And the Bishops were reasonable men. They looked at things +from a point of view intelligible to Englishmen. There was no ridiculous +sentimentality about their demands. For so much money they would silence +the clamour of the Parliamentary party; for so much more they would +preach a modified loyalty, would assert before the world that the Irish +people were faithful servants of the Sovereign; for a good lump sum down +they would undertake to play ‘God Save the King’ or ‘Rule, Britannia’ +on the organ at Maynooth. Of course, the money must be paid: Mr. Chesney +was beginning to understand that, and felt the drawback. It would have +been much pleasanter and simpler if the Bishops would have been content +with promises. There was a certain difficulty in obtaining the necessary +funds without announcing precisely what they were for. But, after all, +a man cannot be called a great statesman without doing something to +deserve the title, and British statesmanship is the art of hoodwinking +the taxpayer. That is all--not too difficult a task for a clever man. +Mr. Chesney reckoned on no power in Ireland likely to be seriously +troublesome. The upper classes were either helpless and sulking, or +helpless and smiling artificially. They might grumble in private or +try to make themselves popular by joining the chorus of the Church’s +flatterers. Either way their influence was inconsiderable. Was there +anyone else worth considering? The Orangemen were still a noisy faction, +but their organization appeared to be breaking up. They were more bent +on devouring their own leaders than interfering with him. There were a +number of people anxious to revive the Irish language, who at one time +had caused him some little uneasiness. He had found it quite impossible +to understand the Gaelic League, and, being an Englishman, arrived +gradually at the comfortable conclusion that what he could not +understand must be foolish. Now, he had great hopes that the Bishops +might capture the movement. + +If once it was safely under the patronage of the Church, he had +nothing more to fear from it. No doubt, resolutions would be passed, +but resolutions------ Mr. Chesney smiled. There were, of course, the +impossible people connected with the _Croppy_. Mr. Chesney did not like +them, and in the bottom of his heart was a little nervous about them. +They seemed to be very little afraid of the authority of the Church, +and he doubted if the authority of the state would frighten them at +all. Still, there were very few of them, and their abominable spirit of +independence was spreading slowly, if at all. + +‘They won’t,’ he said to himself, ‘be of any importance for some years +to come, at all events, and five years hence----’ + +In five years Mr. Chesney hoped to be Prime Minister, or perhaps to +have migrated to the House of Lords, At least, he expected to be out +of Ireland, Meanwhile, he lighted a fresh cigar. The condition of the +country was extremely satisfactory, and his policy was working out +better than he had hoped. + +The other travellers by the special train were equally well pleased, +Ireland, so they understood Mr. Chesney, was to be made happy and +contented, peaceful and prosperous. It followed that there must be +Boards under the control of Dublin Castle--more and more Boards, an +endless procession of them. There is no way devised by the wit of man +for securing prosperity and contentment except the creation of Boards. +If Boards, then necessarily officials--officials with salaries and +travelling allowances. Nice gentlemanly men, with villas at Dalkey and +Killiney, would perform duties not too arduous in connection with the +Boards, and carry out the benevolent policy of the Government. There +was not a man in the train, except the newspaper reporters, who did not +believe in the regeneration of Ireland by Boards, and everyone hoped to +take a share in the good work, with the prospect of a retiring pension +afterwards. + +The local magnates--with the exception of Sir Gerald Geoghegan, whose +temper had been bad from the first--also went home content. The minds of +great ladies work somewhat confusedly, for Providence, no doubt wisely, +has denied to most of them the faculty of reason. It was enough for them +to feel that the nuns were ‘sweet women,’ and that in some way not very +clear Mr. Chesney was getting the better of ‘those wretched agitators.’ + +Only one of all whom the special train had brought down failed to return +in it. Mary O’Dwyer slipped out of the convent before the speeches +began, and wandered away towards the desolate stony hill where the +stream which turns the factory mill took its rise. It grieved her to +miss the cup of tea which a friendly nun had led her to expect; but even +tea might be too dearly purchased, and Miss O’Dwyer had a strong dislike +to listening to what Augusta Goold described as the ‘sugared hypocrisies +of professional liars.’ Besides, she had her cigarette-case in her +pocket, and a smoke, unattainable for her in the convent or the train, +was much to be desired. She left the road at the foot of the hill, and +picked her way along the rough bohireen which led upwards along the +course of the stream. After awhile even this track disappeared. The +stream tumbled noisily over rocks and stones, the bog-stained water +glowing auburn-coloured in the sunlight. The ling and heather were +springy under her feet, and the air was sweet with the scent of the +bog-myrtle. She spied round her for a rock which cast a shade upon the +kind of heathery bed she had set her heart to find. Her eyes lit upon +a little party--a young man and two girls--encamped with a kettle, a +spirit-stove, and a store of bread-and-butter. Her renunciation of the +convent tea had not been made without a pang. She looked longingly at +the steam which already spouted from the kettle. The young man said +a few words to the girls, then stood up, raised his hat to her, and +beckoned. She approached him, wondering. + +‘Surely it can’t be--I really believe it is----’ + +‘Yes, Miss O’Dwyer, it really is myself, Hyacinth Conneally.’ + +‘My dear boy, you are the last person I expected to meet, though of +course I knew you were somewhere down in these parts.’ + +‘Come and have some tea,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And let me introduce you to +Miss Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher.’ + +Miss O’Dwyer took stock of the two girls. ‘They make their own clothes,’ +she thought, ‘and apparently only see last year’s fashion-plates. The +eldest isn’t bad-looking. How is it all West of Ireland girls have such +glorious complexions? Her figure wouldn’t be bad if her mother bought +her a decent pair of stays. I wonder who they are, and what they are +doing here with Hyacinth. They can’t be his sisters.’ + +While they drank their tea certain glances and smiles gave her an +inkling of the truth. ‘I suppose Hyacinth is engaged to the elder one,’ +she concluded. ‘That kind of girl wouldn’t dare to make eyes at a man +unless she had some kind of right to him.’ + +After tea she produced her cigarette-case. + +‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said to Marion. ‘I know it’s very shocking, +but I’ve had a tiring day and an excellent tea, and oh, this heather is +delicious to lie on!’ She stretched herself at full length as she spoke. +‘I really must smoke, just to arrive at perfect felicity for once in my +life. How happy you people ought to be who always have in a place like +this!’ + +‘Oh,’ said Marion, ‘it sometimes rains, you know.’ + +‘Ah! and then these sweet spots get boggy, I suppose, and you have to +wear thick, clumping boots.’ + +Her own were very neat and small, and she knew that they must obtrude +themselves on the eye while she lay prone. Elsie, whose shoes were +patched as well as thick-soled, made an ineffectual attempt to cover +them with her skirt. + +‘Now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘tell us what you are doing down here. They +haven’t made you an inspectress of boarded-out workhouse children, have +they? or sent you down to improve the breed of hens?’ + +‘No,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I have spent the afternoon helping to govern +Ireland.’ + +Marion and Elsie gazed at her in wonder. A lady who smoked cigarettes +and bore the cares of State upon her shoulders was a novelty to them. + +‘I have sat in the seats of the mighty,’ she said; ‘I have breathed the +same air as Mr. Chesney and two members of the C.D.B. Think of that! +Moreover, I might, if I liked, have drunk tea with a Duchess.’ + +‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you were at the convent function, I suppose. I +wonder I didn’t see you.’ + +‘What on earth were _you_ doing there? I thought you hated the nuns and +all their ways.’ + +‘Go on about yourself,’ said Hyacinth. ‘You are not employed by the +Government to inspect infant industries, are you?’ + +‘Oh no; I was one of the representatives of the press. I have notes here +of all the beautiful clothes worn by the wives and daughters of the West +British aristocracy. Listen to this: “Lady Geoghegan was gowned in an +important creation of saffron tweed, the product of the convent looms. +We are much mistaken if this fabric in just this shade is not destined +to play a part in robing the _élégantes_ who will shed a lustre on our +house-parties during the autumn.” And this--you must just listen to +this.’ + +‘I won’t,’ said Hyacinth; ‘you can if you like, Marion. I’ll shut my +ears.’ + +‘Very well,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I’ll talk seriously. When are you +coming up to Dublin? You know my brother has taken over the editorship +of the _Croppy_. We are going to make it a great power in the country. +We are coming out with a policy which will sweep the old set of +political talkers out of existence, and clear the country of Mr. Chesney +and the likes of him.’ She waved her hand towards the convent. ‘Oh, it +is going to be great. It is great already. Why don’t you come and help +us?’ + +Hyacinth looked at her. She had half risen and leaned upon her elbow. +Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. There was no doubt about +the genuineness of her enthusiasm. The words of her poem, long since, he +supposed, blotted from his memory, suddenly returned to him: + + ‘O, desolate mother, O, Erin, + When shall the pulse of thy life which but flutters in Connacht + Throb through thy meadows and boglands and mountains and cities?’ + +Had it come at last, this revival of the nation’s vitality? Had it come +just too late for him to share it? + +‘I shall not help you,’ he said sadly; ‘I do not suppose that I ever +could have helped you much, but now I shall not even try.’ + +She looked at him quickly with a startled expression in her eyes. Then +she turned to Marion. + +‘Are you preventing him?’ she said. + +‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is not Marion. But I am going away--going to +England. I am going to be ordained, to become an English curate. Do you +understand? I came here to-day to see the man who is to be my Rector, +and to make final arrangements with him.’ + +‘Oh, Hyacinth!’ + +For some minutes she said no more. He saw in her face a wondering +sorrow, a pathetic submissiveness to an unexpected disappointment, like +the look in the face of a dog struck suddenly by the hand of a friend. +He felt that he could have borne her anger better. No doubt if he had +made his confession to Augusta Goold he would have been overwhelmed with +passionate wrath or withered by a superb contemptuous stare. Then he +could have worked himself to anger in return. But this! + +‘You will never speak to any of us again,’ she went on. You will be +ashamed even to read the _Croppy_. You will wear a long black coat and +gray gloves. You will learn to talk about the “Irish Problem” and the +inestimable advantages of belonging to a world-wide Empire, and about +the great heart of the English people. I see it all--all that will +happen to you. Your hair will get quite smooth and sleek. Then you will +become a Vicar of a parish. You will live in a beautiful house, with +Virginia creeper growing over it and plum-trees in the garden. You will +have a nice clean village for a parish, with old women who drop curtsies +to you, and men--such men! stupid as bullocks! I know it all. And you +will be ashamed to call yourself an Irishman. Oh, Hyacinth!’ + +Miss O’Dwyer’s catalogue of catastrophes was curiously mixed. Perhaps +the comedy in it tended to obscure the utter degradation of the ruin +she described. But the freakish incongruity of the speech did not strike +Hyacinth. He found in it only two notes--pity that such a fate awaited +him, and contempt for the man who submitted to it. + +‘I cannot help myself. Will you not make an effort to understand? I am +trying to do what is right.’ + +She shook her head. + +‘No,’ he said, ‘I know it is no use. You could not understand even if I +told you all I felt.’ + +Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. He heard her sob. Then she turned +without a word and left them. He stood watching her till she reached +the road and started on her walk to the railway-station. Then he took +Marion’s two hands in his, and held them fast. + +‘Will _you_ understand?’ he asked her. + +She looked up at him. Her face was all tenderness. Love shone on +him--trusting, unquestioning, adoring love, love that would be loyal to +the uttermost; but her eyes were full of a dumb wonder. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +One morning near the end of September the _Irish Times_ published a list +of Irish graduates ordained in England on the previous Sunday. Among +other names appeared: + +‘Hyacinth Conneally, B.A., T.C.D., deacon, by the Bishop of Ripon, for +the curacy of Kirby-Stowell.’ + +Shortly afterwards the _Croppy_ printed the following verses, signed +‘M.O’D.’: + + ‘EIRE TO H. C. + + ‘Bight across the low, flat curragh from the sea, + Drifting, driving sweeps the rain, + Where the bogborn, bent, brown rushes grow for me, + Barren grass instead of grain. + + ‘Out across the sad, soaked curragh towards the sea, + Striding, striving go the men, + With their spades and forks and barrows toil for me + That my corn may grow again + + ‘Ah! but safe from blast of wind and bitter sea, + You who loved me---Tusa féin-- + Live and feel and work for others, not for me, + Never coming back again. + + ‘Yes, while all across the curragh from the West + Drifts the sea-rain off the sea, + You have chosen. Have you chosen what is best + For yourself, O son, and me?’ + +Hyacinth read the verses, cut them out of the _Croppy_, and locked them +in the box in which he stored the few papers of interest he possessed. +The sorrowful judgment pronounced on his conduct affected him, but only +in a dull way, like an additional blow upon a limb already bruised to +numbness. He accepted his new duties and performed them without any +feeling of enthusiasm, and after a little while without any definite +hope of doing any good. He got no further in understanding the people he +had to deal with, and he was aware that even those of them who came most +frequently into contact with him regarded him as a stranger. A young +doctor whose wife took a fancy to Marion tried to make friends with him. +The result was unsatisfactory, owing to Hyacinth’s irresponsiveness. He +could not, without yawning piteously, spend an evening discussing the +performances of the local cricket club; nor did his conduct improve when +the two ladies suspended their talk and sacrificed an hour to playing +four-handed halma with their husbands. An unmarried solicitor, attracted +by Marion’s beauty and friendliness, adopted the habit of calling at +Hyacinth’s little house about nine or ten o’clock in the evening. He +was a man full of anecdote and simple mirth, and he often stayed, quite +happily, till midnight. Every week he brought an illustrated paper as +an offering to Marion, and recommended the short stories in it to +her notice. He often asked Hyacinth’s advice and help in solving the +conundrums set by the prize editor. He took a mild interest in politics, +and retailed gossip picked up at the Conservative Club. After a while he +gave up coming to the house. Hyacinth blamed himself for being cold and +unfriendly to the man. + +Mr. Austin treated Hyacinth with kindness and some consideration, much +as a wise master treats an upper servant. He was anxious that his curate +should perform many and complicated ceremonies in church, was seriously +intent on the wearing of correctly-coloured stoles, and ‘ran,’ as he +expressed it himself, a very large number of different organizations, of +each of which the objective appeared to be a tea-party in the parochial +hall. Hyacinth accepted his tuition, bowed low at the times when Mr. +Austin liked to bow, watched for the seasons when stoles bloomed white +and gold, changed to green, or faded down to violet. He tried to +make himself agreeable to the ‘united mothers’ and the rest when they +assembled for tea-drinking. Mr. Austin asserted that these were the +methods by which the English people were being taught the Catholic +faith. Hyacinth did not doubt it, nor did he permit himself to wonder +whether it was worth while teaching them. + +To Marion the new life was full of many delights. The surpliced +choir-boys gratified her aesthetic sense, and she entered herself as one +of a band of volunteers who scrubbed the chancel tiles and polished a +brass cross. She smiled, kissed, and petted Hyacinth out of the fits of +depression which came on him, managed his small income with wonderful +skill, and wrote immensely long letters home to Ballymoy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +It is very hard for a poor man to travel from one side of England to the +other side of Ireland, because railway companies, even when, to allure +the public, they advertise extraordinary excursions, charge a great +deal for their tickets. The journey becomes still more difficult of +accomplishment when the poor man is married. Then there are two tickets +to be bought, and very likely most of the money which might have bought +them has been spent securing the safe arrival of a baby--a third person +who in due time will also require a railway-ticket. This was Hyacinth’s +case. For two summers he had no holiday at all, and it was only by the +most fortunate of chances that he found himself during the third +summer in a position to go to Ballymoy. He sublet his house to a +freshly-arrived supervisor of Inland Revenue, who wanted six weeks +to look about for a suitable residence. With the nine pounds paid in +advance by this gentleman, Hyacinth and Marion, having with them their +baby, a perambulator, and much other luggage, set off for Ballymoy. + +The journey is not a very pleasant one, because it is made over the +lines of three English railway companies, whose trains refuse to connect +with each other at junctions, and because St. George’s Channel is +generally rough. The discomfort of third-class carriages is more acutely +felt when the Irish shore is reached, but the misery of having to feed +and tend a year-old child lasts the whole journey through. Therefore, +Marion arrived in Dublin dishevelled, weary, and, for all her natural +placidness, inclined to be cross. The steamer came to port at an hour +which left them just the faint hope of catching the earliest train to +Ballymoy. Disappointment followed the nervous strain of a rush across +Dublin. Two long hours intervened before the next train started, and the +people who keep the refreshment-room in Broadstone Station are not early +risers. Marion, without tea or courage, settled herself and the baby in +the draughty waiting-room. + +Hyacinth was also dishevelled, dirty, and tired, having borne his full +share of strife with the child’s worst moods. But the sight of Ireland +from the steamer’s deck filled him with a strange sense of exultation. +He wished to shout with gladness when the gray dome of the Custom House +rose to view, immense above the low blanket of mist. Even the incredibly +hideous iron grating of the railway viaduct set his pulse beating +joyfully. He drew deep breaths, inhaling various abominable smells +delightedly. The voices of the sleepy porters on the quay roused in him +a craving for the gentle slovenliness of Irish speech. He fussed and +hustled Marion beyond the limits of her endurance, pretending eagerness +to catch the early train, caring in reality not at all whether any train +were caught or missed, filled only with a kind of frenzy to keep moving +somehow further into Ireland. In the cab he gave utterance to ridiculous +pleasantries. He seized the child from Marion, and held him, wailing +piteously, half out of the window, that his eyes might rest on the great +gilt characters which adorn the offices of the Gaelic League. It was +with rapture that he read Irish names, written and spelt in Irish, above +the shops, and saw a banner proclaiming the annual festival of Irish +Ireland hanging over the door of the Rotunda. The city had grown more +Irish since he left it. There was no possibility now, even in the early +morning, with few people but scavengers and milkmen in the streets, of +mistaking for an English town. + +While Marion sat torpid in the waiting-room, he paced the platform +eagerly from end to end. He saw the train pushed slowly into position +beside the platform, watched porters sweep the accumulated débris of +yesterday’s traffic from the floors of the carriages, and rub with +filthy rags the brass doorhandles. Little groups of passengers began to +arrive--first a company of cattle-jobbers, four of them, red-faced men +with keen, crafty eyes, bound for some Western fair; then a laughing +party of tourists, women in short skirts and exaggeratedly protective +veils, men with fierce tweed knickerbockers dragging stuffed hold-alls +and yellow bags. These were evidently English. Their clear high-pitched +voices proclaimed contempt for their surroundings, and left no doubt of +their nationality. One of them addressed a bewildered porter in cheerful +song: + + ‘Are you right there, + Michael? are you right? + Have you got the parcel there for Mrs. White?’ + +He felt, and his companions sympathized, that he was entering into the +spirit of Irish life. Then, heralded by an obsequious guard, came a +great man, proconsular in mien and gait. Bags and rugs were wheeled +beside him. In his hand was a despatch-box bearing the tremendous +initials of the Local Government Board. He took complete possession of +a first-class smoking carriage, scribbled a telegram, perhaps of +international importance, handed it to the guard for instant despatch, +and lit a finely-odorous cigar. Hyacinth, humbled by the mere view of +this incarnation of the Imperial spirit, went meekly to the waiting-room +to fetch Marion and his child. He led them across the now crowded +platform towards a third-class carriage. + +‘I will not go with you in your first-class carriage, Father Lavelle; so +that’s flat. Nor I won’t split the difference and go second either, if +that’s what you’re going to propose to me. Is it spend what would keep +the family of a poor man in bread and tea for a week, for the sake of +easing my back with a cushion? Get away with you. The plain deal board’s +good enough for me. And, moreover, I doubt very much if I’ve the money +to do it, if I were ever so willing. I’m afraid to look into my purse to +count the few coppers that’s left in it after paying that murdering bill +in the hotel you took me to. Gresham, indeed! A place where they’re +not ashamed to charge a poor old priest three and sixpence for his +breakfast, and me not able to eat the half of what they put before me.’ + +Hyacinth turned quickly. Two priests stood together near the bookstall. +The one, a young man, handsome and well-dressed, he did not know. The +other he recognised at once. It seemed to be the same familiarly shabby +black coat which he wore, the same many-stained waistcoat, the identical +silk hat, ruffled and rain-spotted. The same pads of flesh hung flaccid +from his jaws; the red, cracked knuckles of his hands, well remembered, +were enormous still. Only the furrows on the face seemed to be ploughed +deeper and wider, and a few more stiff hairs curled over the general +bushiness of the grizzled eyebrows. + +‘Father Moran!’ cried Hyacinth. + +‘I am Father Moran. You’re right there. But who _you_ are or how you +come to know me is more than I can tell. But wait a minute. I’ve a sort +of recollection of your voice. Will you speak to me again, and maybe +I’ll be able to put a name on you.’ + +Hyacinth said a few words rapidly in Irish. + +‘I have you now,’ said the priest. ‘You’re Hyacinth Conneally, the boy +that went out to fight for the Boers. Father Lavelle, this is a friend +of mine that I’ve known ever since he was born, and I haven’t laid eyes +on him these six years or more. You’re going West, Mr. Conneally? But of +course you are. Where else would you be going? We’ll travel together +and talk. If it’s second-class you’re going, Father Lavelle will have +to lend me the money to pay the extra on my ticket, so as I can go with +you. Seemingly it’s a Protestant minister you’ve grown into. Well +now, who’d have thought it? And you so set on fighting the battle of +Armageddon and all. It’s a come-down for you, so it is. But never mind. +You might have got yourself killed in it. There’s many a one killed or +maimed for life in smaller fights than it. It’s better to be a minister +any day than a corpse or a cripple. And as you are a minister, it’s +likely to be third-class you’re travelling. Times are changed since +I was young. It was the priests travelled third-class then, if they +travelled at all, and the ministers were cocked up on the cushions, +looking down on the likes of us out of the windows with the little red +curtains half-drawn across them. Now it’ll be Father Lavelle there, +with his grand new coat that he says is Irish manufacture--but I +don’t believe him--who’ll be doing the gentleman. But come along, Mr. +Conneally--come along, and tell me all the battles you fought and the +Generals you made prisoners of, and how it was you took to preaching +afterwards.’ + +Hyacinth, somewhat shyly, introduced the priest to Marion. Then a +ticket-collector drove them into their carriage and locked the door. + +Father Moran began to catechize Hyacinth before the train started, and +drew from him, as they went westwards, the story of his disappointments, +doubts, hopes, veerings, and final despair. Hyacinth spoke unwillingly +at first, giving no more than necessary answers to the questions. +Then, because he found that reticence called down on him fresh and +more detailed inquiries, and also because the priest’s evident and +sympathetic interest redeemed a prying curiosity from offensiveness, +he told his tale more freely. Very soon there was no more need of +questioning, and Father Moran’s share in the talk took the form of +comments interrupting a narrative. + +Of Captain Albert Quinn he said: + +‘I’ve heard of him, and a nice kind of a boy he seems to have been. I +suppose he fought when he got there. He’s just the sort that would be +splendid at the fighting. Well, God is good, and I suppose it’s to +do the fighting for the rest of us that He makes the likes of Captain +Quinn. Did you hear that they wanted to make him a member of Parliament? +Well, they did. Nothing less would please them. But what good would +that be, when he couldn’t set foot in the country for fear of being +arrested?’ + +Later on he was moved to laughter. + +‘To think of your going on the road with a bag full of blankets and +shawls! I never heard of such a thing, and all the grand notions your +head was full of! Why didn’t you come my way? I’d have made Rafferty +give you an order. I’d have bought the makings of a frieze coat from you +myself--I would, indeed.’ + +Afterwards he became grave again. + +‘I won’t let you say the hard word about the nuns, Mr. Conneally. Don’t +do it, now. There’s plenty of good convents up and down through the +country--more than ever you’ll know of, being the black Protestant you +are. And the ones that ruined your business--supposing they did ruin +it, and I’ve only your word for that--what right have you to be blaming +them? They were trying to turn an honest penny by an honest trade, and +that’s just what you and your friend Mr. Quinn were doing yourselves.’ + +Hyacinth, conscious of a failure in good taste, shifted his ground, only +to be interrupted again. + +‘Oh, you may abuse the Congested Districts Board to your heart’s +content. I never could see what the Government made all the Boards for +unless it was to keep the people out of mischief. As long as there is +a Board of any kind about the country every blackguard will be so busy +throwing stones at it that he won’t have time nor inclination left +to annoy decent people. And I’ll say this for the Congested Districts +Board: they mean well. Indeed they do; not a doubt of it. There’s one +good thing they did, anyway, if there isn’t another, and that’s when +they came to Carrowkeel and bought the big Curragh Farm that never +supported a Christian, but two herds and some bullocks ever since the +famine clearances. They fetched the people down off the mountains and +put them on it. Wasn’t that a good thing, now? Sure, all Government +Boards do more wrong than right. It’s the nature of that sort of +confederation. But it’s all the more thankful we ought to be when once +in a while they do something useful.’ + +Hyacinth came to tell of the choice which Canon Beecher offered him, and +dwelt with tragic emphasis on his own decision. The priest listened, a +smile on his lips, a look of pity which belied the smile in his eyes. + +‘So you thought Ireland would be lost altogether unless you wrote +articles for Miss Goold in the _Croppy?_ It’s no small opinion you have +of yourself, Hyacinth Conneally. And you thought you’d save your soul by +going to preach the Gospel to the English people? Was that it, now?’ + +‘It was not,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and you know it wasn’t.’ + +‘Of course it wasn’t. What was I thinking of to forget the young lady +that was in it? A fine wife you’ve got, any way. God bless her, and make +you a good husband to her! By the looks of her she’s better than you +deserve. I suppose it was to get money you went to England, so as to buy +her pretty dresses and a beautiful house to live in? Did you think you’d +grow rich over there?’ + +‘Indeed I did not,’ said Hyacinth bitterly. ‘I knew we’d never be rich.’ + +‘Well, then, couldn’t you as well have been poor in Ireland? And better, +for everybody’s poor here. But there, I know well enough it wasn’t money +you were after. Don’t be getting angry with me, now. It wasn’t for the +sake of saving your soul you went, nor to get your nice wife, though a +man might go a long way for the likes of her. I don’t know why you went, +and it’s my belief you don’t know yourself. But you made a mistake, +whatever you did it for, going off on that English mission. Is it a +mission you call it when you’re a Protestant? I don’t think it is, but +it doesn’t matter. You made a mistake. Why don’t you come back again?’ + +‘God knows I would if I could. It’s hungry I am to get back--just sick +with hunger and the great desire that is on me to be back again in +Ireland.’ + +‘Well, what’s to hinder you? Let me tell you this: There’s been four +men in your father’s place since he died. Never a one of the first three +would stay. They tell me the pay’s small, and the place is desolate to +them for the want of Protestants, there being none, you may say, but the +coastguards. After the third of them left it was long enough before they +got the fourth. I hear they went scouring and scraping round the four +coasts of the country with a trawl-net trying to get a man. And now +they’ve got him he’s all for going away. He says there’s no work to do, +and no people to preach to. But you’d find work, if you were there. I’d +find you work myself--work for the people you knew since you were born, +that’s in the way at last of getting to be the men and women they were +meant to be, and that wants all the help can be got for them. Why don’t +you come back?’ + +‘Indeed, Father Moran, I would if I could.’ ‘If you could! What’s the +use of talking? Isn’t your wife’s father a Canon? And wouldn’t that +professor in the college that you used to tell me of do something for +you? What’s the good of having fine friends like that if they won’t get +you sent to a place like Carrowkeel, that never another minister but +yourself would as much as eat his dinner in twice if he could help it?’ + +Hyacinth glanced doubtfully at Marion. The child lay quiet in her arms. +She slept uncomfortably. It was clear that she had not cared to listen +to the conversation of the two men. + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hyacinth, by George A. 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Birmingham + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hyacinth, by George A. Birmingham + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hyacinth + 1906 + +Author: George A. Birmingham + +Release Date: January 23, 2008 [EBook #10538] +Last Updated: February 17, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYACINTH *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + HYACINTH + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By George A. Birmingham + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + 1906 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + In the year 1850 or thereabouts religious and charitable society in + England was seized with a desire to convert Irish Roman Catholics to the + Protestant faith. It is clear to everyone with any experience of + missionary societies that, the more remote the field of actual work, the + easier it is to keep alive the interest of subscribers. The mission to + Roman Catholics, therefore, commenced in that western portion of Galway + which the modern tourist knows as Connemara, and the enthusiasm was + immense. Elderly ladies, often with titles, were energetic in the cause of + the new reformation. Young ladies, some of them very attractive, collected + money from their brothers and admirers. States-men and Bishops headed the + subscription-lists, and influential committees earnestly debated plans for + spending the money which poured in. Faith in the efficacy of money handled + by influential committees is one of the characteristics of the English + people, and in this particular case it seemed as if their faith were to be + justified by results. Most encouraging reports were sent to headquarters + from Connemara. It appeared that converts were flocking in, and that the + schools of the missionaries were filled to overflowing. In the matter of + education circumstances favoured the new reformation. The leonine John + McHale, the Papal Archbishop of Tuam, pursued a policy which drove the + children of his flock into the mission schools. The only other kind of + education available was that which some humorous English statesman had + called ‘national,’ and it did not seem to the Archbishop desirable that an + Irish boy should be beaten for speaking his own language, or rewarded for + calling himself ‘a happy English child.’ He refused to allow the building + of national schools in his diocese, and thus left the cleverer boys to + drift into the mission schools, where they learnt carefully selected texts + of Scripture along with the multiplication-table. The best of them were + pushed on through Dublin University, and crowned the hopes of their + teachers by taking Holy Orders in the Church of England. There are still + to be met with in Galway and Mayo ancient peasants and broken-down + inhabitants of workhouses who speak with a certain pride of ‘my brother + the minister.’ There are also here and there in English rectories elderly + gentlemen who have almost forgotten the thatched cottages where they ate + their earliest potatoes. + </p> + <p> + Among these cleverer boys was one Æneas Conneally, who was something more + than clever. He was also religious in an intense and enthusiastic manner, + which puzzled his teachers while it pleased them. His ancestors had lived + for generations on a seaboard farm, watered by salt rain, swept by misty + storms. The famine and the fever that followed it left him fatherless and + brotherless. The emigration schemes robbed him and his mother of their + surviving relations. The mission school and the missionary’s charity + effected the half conversion of the mother and a whole-hearted acceptance + of the new faith on the part of Æneas. Unlike most of his fellows in the + college classrooms, he refused to regard an English curacy as the goal of + his ambition. It seemed to him that his conversion ought not to end in his + parading the streets of Liverpool in a black coat and a white tie. He + wanted to return to his people and tell them in their own tongue the + Gospel which he had found so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + The London committee meditated on his request, and before they arrived at + a conclusion his mother died, having at the last moment made a tardy + submission to the Church she had denied. Her apostasy—so the + missionaries called it—confirmed the resolution of her son, and the + committee at length agreed to allow him to return to his native village as + the first Rector of the newly-created parish of Carrowkeel. He was + provided with all that seemed necessary to insure the success of his work. + They built him a gray house, low and strong, for it had to withstand the + gales which swept in from the Atlantic. They bought him a field where a + cow could graze, and an acre of bog to cut turf from. A church was built + for him, gray and strong, like his house. It was fitted with comfortable + pews, a pulpit, a reading-desk, and a movable table of wood decently + covered with a crimson cloth. Beyond the church stood the school he had + attended as a boy, whitewashed without and draped inside with maps and + illuminated texts. A salary, not princely but sufficient, was voted to Mr. + Conneally, and he was given authority over a Scripture-reader and a + schoolmaster. The whole group of mission buildings—the rectory, the + church, and the school—stood, like types of the uncompromising + spirit of Protestantism, upon the bare hillside, swept by every storm, + battered by the Atlantic spray. Below them Carrowkeel, the village, + cowered in such shelter as the sandhills afforded. Eastward lonely + cottages, faintly smoking dots in the landscape, straggled away to the + rugged bases of the mountains. The Rev. Æneas Conneally entered upon his + mission enthusiastically, and the London committee awaited results. There + were scarcely any results, certainly none that could be considered + satisfactory. The day for making conversions was past, and the tide had + set decisively against the new reformation. A national school, started by + a clearsighted priest, in spite of his Archbishop, left the mission school + almost without pupils. The Scripture-reader lost heart, and took to + seeking encouragement in the public-house. He found it, and once when + exalted—he said, spiritually—paraded the streets cursing the + Virgin Mary. Worse followed, and the committee in London dismissed the + man. A diminishing income forced on them the necessity of economy, and no + successor was appointed. For a few years Mr. Conneally laboured on. Then a + sharp-eyed inspector from London discovered that the schoolmaster took + very little trouble about teaching, but displayed great talent in + prompting his children at examinations. He, too, was dismissed, and the + committee, still bent on economy, appointed a mistress in his place. She + was a pretty girl, and after she had shivered through the stormy nights of + two winters in the lonely school-house, Mr. Conneally married her. + Afterwards the office of school-teacher was also left vacant. The + whitewashed school fell gradually into decay, and the committee effected a + further saving. + </p> + <p> + After his marriage Mr. Conneally’s missionary enthusiasm began to flag. + His contact with womanhood humanized him. The sternness of the reformer + died in him, and his neighbours, who never could comprehend his religion, + came to understand the man. They learned to look upon him as a friend, to + seek his sympathy and help. In time they learnt to love him. + </p> + <p> + Two years passed, and a son was born. The village people crowded upon him + with congratulations, and mothers of wide experience praised the boy till + Mrs. Conneally’s heart swelled in her with pride. He was christened + Hyacinth, after a great pioneer and leader of the mission work. The naming + was Mr. Conneally’s act of contrition for the forsaking of his enthusiasm, + his recognition of the value of a zeal which had not flagged. Failing the + attainment of greatness, the next best thing is to dedicate a new life to + a patron saint who has won the reward of those who endure to the end. For + two years more life in the glebe house was rapturously happy. Such bliss + has in it, no doubt, an element of sin, and it is not good that it should + endure. This was to be seen afterwards in calmer times, though hardly at + the moment when the break came. There was a hope of a second child, a + delightful time of expectation; then an accident, the blighting of the + hope, and in a few days the death of Mrs. Conneally. Her husband buried + her, digging the first grave in the rocky ground that lay around the + little church. + </p> + <p> + For a time Mr. Conneally was stunned by his sorrow. He stopped working + altogether, ceased to think, even to feel. Men avoided him with + instinctive reverence at first, and afterwards with fear, as he wandered, + muttering to himself, among the sandhills and along the beach. After a + while the power of thought and a sense of the outward things of life + returned to him. He found that an aged crone from the village had + established herself in his house, and was caring for Hyacinth. He let her + stay, and according to her abilities she cooked and washed for him and the + boy, neither asking wages nor taking orders from him, until she died. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth grew and throve amazingly. From morning till evening he was in + the village, among the boats beside the little pier, or in the fields, + when the men worked there. Everyone petted and loved him, from Father + Moran, the priest who had started the national school, down to old Shamus, + the crippled singer of interminable Irish songs and teller of heroic + legends of the past. It was when he heard the boy repeat a story of Finn + MacCool to the old crone in the kitchen that Mr. Conneally awoke to the + idea that he must educate his son. He began, naturally enough, with Irish, + for it was Irish, and not English, that Hyacinth spoke fluently. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards the English alphabet followed, though not for the sake of + reading books, for except the Bible and the Prayer-Book Hyacinth was + taught to read no English books. He learned Latin after a fashion, not + with nice attention to complexities of syntax, but as a language meant to + be used, read, and even spoken now and then to Father Moran. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the passage of the years brought changes to Carrowkeel. The + Admiralty established a coastguard station near the village, and arranged, + for the greater security of the Empire, that men in blue-serge clothes + should take it in turns to look at the Atlantic through a telescope. Then + the unquiet spirit of the Congested Districts Board possessed the place + for a while. A young engineer designed a new pier to shelter + fishing-boats. He galvanized the people into unwonted activity, and, + though sceptical of good results, they earned a weekly wage by building + it. Boats came, great able boats, which fought the Atlantic, and the old + curraghs were left to blister in the sun far up on the beach. Instructors + from the Isle of Man taught new ways of catching mackerel. Green patches + between the cottages and the sea, once the playground of pigs and + children, or the marine parade of solemn lines of geese, were spread with + brown nets. On May mornings, if the take was good, long lines of carts + rattled down the road carrying the fish to the railway at Clifden, and the + place bore for a while the appearance of vitality. A vagrant Englishman + discovered that lobsters could be had almost for the asking in Carrowkeel. + The commercial instincts of his race were aroused in him. + </p> + <p> + He established a trade between the villagers and the fishmongers of + Manchester. The price of lobsters rose to the unprecedented figure of four + shillings a dozen, and it was supposed that even so the promoter of the + scheme secured a profit. + </p> + <p> + To Æneas Conneally, growing quietly old, the changes meant very little. + The coastguards, being bound by one of the articles of the British + Constitution, came to church on Sunday mornings with exemplary regularity, + and each man at fixed intervals brought a baby to be christened and a + woman to be churched. Otherwise they hardly affected Mr. Conneally’s life. + The great officials who visited Carrowkeel to survey the benignant + activities of the Congested Districts Board were men whose magnificent + intellectual powers raised them above any recognised form of Christianity. + Neither Father Moran’s ministrations nor Mr. Conneally’s appealed to them. + </p> + <p> + The London committee of the mission to Roman Catholics made no inquiry + about what was going on at Carrowkeel. They asked for no statistics, + expected no results, but signed quarterly cheques for Mr. Conneally, + presuming, one may suppose, that if he had ceased to exist they would + somehow have heard of it. + </p> + <p> + By far the most important event for Hyacinth and his father was the death + of their old housekeeper. In the changed state of society in Carrowkeel it + was found impossible to secure the services of another. Hyacinth, at this + time about fifteen years old, took to the housework without feeling that + he was doing anything strange or unmanly. He was familiar with the + position of ‘bachelor boys’ who, having grown elderly under the care of a + mother, preferred afterwards the toil of their own kitchens to the + uncertain issue of marrying a girl to ‘do for them.’ Life under their + altered circumstances was simplified. It seemed unnecessary to carry a + meal from the room it was cooked in to another for the purpose of eating + it, so the front rooms of the house, with their tattered furniture, were + left to moulder quietly in the persistent damp. One door was felt to be + sufficient for the ingress and egress of two people from a house. The + kitchen door, being at the back of the house, was oftenest the sheltered + one, so the front door was bolted, and the grass grew up to it. One by + one, as Hyacinth’s education required, the Latin and Greek books were + removed from the forsaken study, and took their places among the + diminishing array of plates and cups on the kitchen dresser. The spreading + and removal of a tablecloth for every meal came to be regarded as foolish + toil. When room was required on the table for plates, the books and papers + were swept on one side. A pile of potatoes, and the pan, with bacon or a + fish perhaps still frizzling in it, was set in the place left vacant. + </p> + <p> + Morning and evening Æneas Conneally expected his son to join with him in + prayer. The two knelt together on the earthen floor facing the window, + while the old man meditated aloud on Divine things. There were breaks in + his speech and long silences, so that sometimes it was hard to tell when + his prayer had really ended. These devotions formed a part of his father’s + life into which Hyacinth never really entered at all. He neither rebelled + nor mocked. He simply remained outside. So when his father wandered off to + solitary places on the seashore, and sat gazing into the sunset or a + gathering storm, Hyacinth neither followed nor questioned him. Sometimes + on winter nights when the wind howled more fiercely than usual round the + house, the old man would close the book they read together, and repeat + aloud long passages from the Apocalypse. His voice, weak and wavering at + first, would gather strength as he proceeded, and the young man listened, + stirred to vague emotion over the fall of Babylon the Great. + </p> + <p> + For the most part Hyacinth’s time was his own. Even the hours of study + were uncertain. He read when he liked, and his father seemed content with + long days of idleness followed by others of application. It was, indeed, + only owing to his love of what he read that the boy learned at all. Often + while he tramped from his home to the village at midday his heart was hot + within him with some great thought which had sprung to him from a hastily + construed chorus of Euripides. Sometimes he startled the fishermen when he + went with them at night by chanting Homer’s rolling hexameters through the + darkness while the boat lay waiting, borne gunwale down to the black water + with the drag of the net that had been shot. + </p> + <p> + There was a tacit understanding that Hyacinth, like his father, was to + take Holy Orders. He matriculated in Trinity College when he was eighteen, + and, as is often done by poorer students, remained at home, merely passing + the required examinations, until he took his degree, and the time came for + his entering the divinity school. Then it became necessary for him to + reside in Dublin, and the first great change in his life took place. + </p> + <p> + The night before he left home he and his father sat together in the + kitchen after they had finished their evening meal. For a long time + neither of them spoke. Hyacinth held a book in his hand, but scarcely + attempted to read it. His thoughts wandered from hopeful expectation of + what the future was to bring him and the new life was to mean, to vague + regrets, weighted with misgivings, which would take no certain shape. + There crowded upon him recollections of busy autumn days when the grain + harvest overtook the belated hay-making, and men toiled till late in the + fields; of long nights in the springtime when he tugged at the + fishing-nets, and felt the mackerel slipping and flapping past his feet in + the darkness; of the longer winter nights when he joined the gatherings of + the boys and girls to dance jigs and reels on the earthen floor of some + kitchen. It seemed now that all this was past and over for him. Holiday + time would bring him back to Carrowkeel, but would it be the same? Would + he be the same? + </p> + <p> + He looked at his father, half hoping for sympathy; but the old man sat + gazing—it seemed to Hyacinth stupidly—into the fire. He + wondered if his father had forgotten that this was their last evening + together. Then suddenly, without raising his eyes, the old man began to + speak, and it appeared that he, too, was thinking of the change. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know, my son, what they will teach you in their school of + divinity. I have long ago forgotten all I learned there, and I have not + missed the knowledge. It does not seem to me now that what they taught me + has been of any help in getting to know Him.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused for a long time. Hyacinth was familiar enough with his father’s + ways of speech to know that the emphatic ‘Him’ meant the God whom he + worshipped. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is, I am sure, only one way in which we can become His friends. <i>These + are they which have come out of great tribulation!</i> You remember that, + Hyacinth? That is the only way. You may be taught truths about Him, but + they matter very little. You have already great thoughts, burning + thoughts, but they will not of themselves bring you to Him. The other way + is the only way. Shall I wish it for you, my son? Shall I give it to you + for my blessing? May great tribulation come upon you in your life! <i>Great + tribulation!</i> See how weak my faith is even now at the very end. I + cannot give you this blessing, although I know very well that it is the + only way. I know this, because I have been along this way myself, and it + has led me to Him.’ + </p> + <p> + Again he paused. It did not seem to Hyacinth to be possible to say + anything. He was not sure in his heart that the friendship of the Man of + Sorrows was so well worth having that he would be content to pay for it by + accepting such a benediction from his father. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall do this for you, Hyacinth: I shall pray that when the choice is + given you, the great choice between what is easy and what is hard, the + right decision may be made for you. I do not know in what form it will + come. Perhaps it will be as it was with me. He made the choice for me, for + indeed I could not have chosen for myself. He set my feet upon the narrow + way, forced me along it for a while, and now at the end I see His face.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had heard enough of the brief bliss of his father’s married life + to understand. He caught for the first time a glimpse of the meaning of + the solitary life, the long prayers, and the meditations. He was + profoundly moved, but it did not even then seem to him desirable to choose + such a way, or to have such attainment thrust on him. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the autumn sunlight chased the recollection of his emotion + from his mind. The fishermen stopped his car as he drove through the + street to shake hands with him. Their wives shouted familiar blessings + from the cabin doors. Father Moran came bare-headed to the gate of his + presbytery garden and waved a farewell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + There is that about the material fabric, the actual stone and mortar, of + Trinity College, Dublin, which makes a vivid appeal to the imagination of + the common man. The cultured sentimentalist will not indeed be able to + lave his soul in tepid emotion while he walks through these quadrangles, + as he may among the cloisters and chapels of the Oxford colleges. The + amateur of the past cannot here stand at gaze before any single building + as he does before the weather-beaten front of Oriel, tracing in + imagination the footsteps of Newman or Arnold. Yet to the average man, and + far more to the newly emancipated schoolboy, Trinity College, Dublin, + makes an appeal which can hardly be ignored. In Oxford and Cambridge town + and University are mixed together; shops jostle and elbow colleges in the + streets. In Dublin a man leaves the city behind him when he enters the + college, passes completely out of the atmosphere of the University when he + steps on to the pavement. The physical contrast is striking enough, + appealing to the ear and the eye. The rattle of the traffic, the jangling + of cart bells, the inarticulate babel of voices, suddenly cease when the + archway of the great entrance-gate is passed. + </p> + <p> + An immense silence takes their place. There is no longer any need for + watchfulness, nor risk of being hustled by the hurrying crowds. Instead of + footway and street crossing there are broad walks, untrodden stretches of + smooth grass. The heavy campanile is in front, and heights of gray + building frown down on each side. It needs no education, not even any + imagination, to appreciate the change. It is not necessary to know that + great scholars inhabited the place, to recall any name or any man’s + career. The appeal is not to a recollected impression of the Middle Ages, + or indeed of any past, remote or near. It is the spirit of scholarship + itself, abstract, intangible, which creates this atmosphere. Knowledge, a + severe goddess, awes while she beckons. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally had submitted himself to such emotions time after time + when, fresh from the wilds of Connemara, he made his way to the + examination-hall, an outside student in a borrowed cap and gown. Now, when + for the first time he entered into the actual life of the college, could + look up at windows of rooms that were his own, and reckon on his privilege + of fingering tomes from the shelves of the huge library, the spirit of the + place awed him anew. He neither analyzed nor attempted an expression of + what he felt, but his first night within the walls was restless because of + the inspiration which filled him. + </p> + <p> + Yet this college does not fail to make an appeal also to the thinking + mind, only it is a strange appeal, tending to sadness. The sudden silence + after the tumult of the streets has come for some minds to be the symbol + of a divorce between the knowledge within and the life without. And this + is not the separation which must always exist between thought and action, + the gulf fixed between the student and the merchant. It is a real divorce + between the nation and the University, between the two kinds of life which + ought, like man and woman, to complete each other through their very + diversity, but here have gone hopelessly apart. Never once through all the + centuries of Ireland’s struggle to express herself has the University felt + the throb of her life. It is true that Ireland’s greatest patriots, from + Swift to Davis, have been her children; but she has never understood their + spirit, never looked on them as anything but strangers to her family. They + have been to her stray robber wasps, to be driven from the hive; while to + the others they have seemed cygnets among her duckling brood. It is very + wonderful that the University alone has been able to resist the glamour of + Ireland’s past, and has failed to admire the persistency of her + nationality. There has surely been enough in every century that has passed + since the college was founded to win it over from alien thought and the + ideals of the foreigner. + </p> + <p> + All this Hyacinth came to feel afterwards, and learnt in bitterness of + spirit to be angry at the University’s isolation from Irish life. At first + quite other thoughts crowded upon his mind. He felt a rebellion against + his father’s estimate of what he was to learn. It seemed to him that he + had come into vital touch with the greatest life of all. He was to join + the ranks of those who besieged the ears of God for knowledge, and left + behind them to successors yet unborn great traditions of the enigmas they + had guessed. In entering upon the study of theology he seemed to become a + soldier in the sacred band, the élite of the army which won and guarded + truth. Already he was convinced that there could be no greater science + than the Divine one, no more inspiring moment in life than this one when + he took his first step towards the knowledge of God. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the quadrangle with his mind full of such thoughts, and joined + a group of students round the door of one of the examination-halls. It did + not shock his sense of fitness that some of his fellow-students in the + great science wore shabby clothes, or that others scorned the use of a + razor. Bred as he had been at home, he felt no incongruity between dirty + collars and the study of divinity. It was not until he caught scraps of + conversation that he experienced an awakening from his dream. One eager + group surrounded a foreseeing youth who had written the dates of the first + four General Councils of the Church upon his shirt-cuff. + </p> + <p> + ‘Read them out, like a good man,’ said one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold on a minute,’ said another, ‘till I see if I have got them right. I + ground them up specially this morning. Nicæa, 318—no, hang it! + that’s the number of Bishops who were present; 325 was the date, wasn’t + it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was the row about at Chalcedon?’ asked a tall, pale youth. ‘Didn’t + some monk or other go for Cyril of Alexandria?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll be stuck anyhow, Tommy,’ said a neat, dapper little man with a + very ragged gown. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth slipped past the group, and approached two better dressed + students who stood apart from the others. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is this,’ he asked, ‘where the entrance examination to the divinity + school is to be held?’ + </p> + <p> + For answer he received a curt ‘Yes’ and a stare. Apparently his suit of + brown Connemara homespun did not commend him to these aristocrats. They + turned their backs on him, and resumed their conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘She was walking up and down the pier listening to the band with two of + the rankest outsiders you ever set eyes on—medicals out of Paddy + Dunn’s. Of course I could do nothing else but break it off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you were engaged to her, then? I didn’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I was and I wasn’t. Anyhow, I thought it better to have a clear + understanding. She came up to me outside the door of Patrick’s on Sunday + afternoon just as if nothing had happened. “Hullo, Bob,” says she; “I + haven’t seen you for ages.” “My name,” said I, “is Mr. Banks”—just + like that, as cool as you please. I could see she felt it. “I’ve called + you Bob,” says she, very red in the face, “and you’ve called me Maimie + ever since we went to Sunday-school together, and I’m not going to begin + calling you Mr. Banks now, my boy-o! so don’t you think it!”’ + </p> + <p> + It was a relief to Hyacinth when he was tapped on the arm by a boy with a + very pimply face, who thrust a paper into his hand, and distracted his + attention from the final discomfiture of Maimie, which Mr. Banks was + recounting in a clear, high-pitched voice, as if he wished everyone in the + neighbourhood to hear it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope you’ll come,’ said the boy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all in the paper. The students’ prayer-meeting, held every Wednesday + morning at nine o’clock sharp. Special meeting to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was bewildered. There was something quite unfamiliar in this + prompt and business-like advertisement of prayer. The student with the + papers began to be doubtful of him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not High Church, are you?’ he asked. ‘We’re not. We don’t have + printed offices, with verses and responds, and that sort of thing. We have + extempore prayer by members of the union.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; I’m not High Church,’ said Hyacinth—‘at least, I think not. I + don’t really know much about these things. I’ll be very glad to go to your + meeting.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right,’ said the other. ‘All are welcome. There will be special + prayer to-morrow for the success of the British arms. I suppose you heard + that old Kruger has sent an ultimatum. There will be war at once.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden movement among the students; gowns were pulled straight + and caps adjusted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here he comes,’ said someone. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry, the divinity professor, crossed the square rapidly. He was a + middle-aged man, stout, almost ponderous, in figure; but he held himself + rigidly upright, and walked fast across the square. The extreme neatness + of his clothes contrasted with the prevailing shabbiness of the students + and the assistant lecturers who followed him. Yet he did not seem to be a + man who gave to externals more than their due share of consideration. His + broad forehead gave promise of great intellectual power, a promise half + belied by the narrow gray eyes beneath it. These were eyes which might see + keenly, and would certainly see things just as they are, though they were + not likely to catch any glimpse of that greater world where objects cannot + be focussed sharply. Yet in them, an odd contradiction, there lurked a + possibility of humorous twinkling. The man was capable perhaps of the + broad tolerance of the great humorist, certainly of very acute perception + of life’s minor incongruities. His thin lips were habitually pressed + together, giving a suggestion of strength to the set of his mouth. A man + with such a mouth can think and act, but not feel either passionately or + enduringly. He will direct men because he knows his own mind, but is not + likely to sway them because he will always be master of himself, and will + not become enslaved to any great enthusiasm. The students trooped into the + hall, and the examination began. The assistant lecturers helped in the + work. Each student was called up in turn, asked a few questions, and given + a portion of the Greek Testament to translate. For the most part their + capacities were known beforehand. There were some who had won honours in + their University course before entering the divinity school. For them the + examiners were all smiles, and the business of the day was understood to + be perfunctory. Others were recognised as mere pass men, whom it was + necessary to spur to some exertion. A few, like Hyacinth, were unknown. + These were the poorer students who had not been able to afford to reside + at the University sooner than was absolutely necessary. Their knowledge, + generally scanty, was received by the examiners with undisguised contempt. + It fell to Hyacinth’s lot to present himself to Dr. Henry. He did so + tremulously. + </p> + <p> + The professor inquired his name, and looked him over coldly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Read for me,’ he said, handing him a Greek Testament. The passage marked + was St. Paul’s great description of charity. It was very familiar to + Hyacinth, and he read it with a serious feeling for the words. Dr. Henry, + who at first had occupied himself with some figures on a sheet of paper, + looked up and listened attentively. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where were you at school,’ he asked. ‘Who taught you Greek?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My father taught me, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! You have got a very peculiar pronunciation, and you’ve made an + extraordinary number of mistakes in accentuation and quantity, but you’ve + read as if St. Paul meant something. Now translate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have given me,’ he said, when Hyacinth had finished, ‘the Authorized + Version word for word. Can you do no better than that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can do it differently,’ said Hyacinth, ‘not better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know any Greek outside of the New Testament?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth repeated a few lines from Homer. + </p> + <p> + ‘That book of the “Odyssey” is not in the college course,’ said Dr. Henry. + ‘How did you come to read it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had no explanation to give. He had read the book, it seemed, + without being forced, and without hope of getting a prize. He recited it + as if he liked it. The remainder of the examination disclosed the fact + that he was lamentably deficient in the rudiments of Greek grammar, and + had the very vaguest ideas of the history of the Church. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards Professor Henry discussed the new class with his assistants as + they crossed the square together. + </p> + <p> + ‘The usual lot,’ said Dr. Spenser—‘half a dozen scholars, perhaps + one man among them with real brains. The rest are either idlers or, what + is worse, duffers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hit on one man with brains,’ said Dr. Henry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Thompson, I suppose. I saw that you took him. He did well in his + degree exam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Dr. Henry; ‘the man I mean has more brains than Thompson. He’s + a man I never heard of before. His name is Conneally. He looks as if he + came up from the wilds somewhere. He has hands like an agricultural + labourer, and a brogue that I fancy comes from Galway. But he’s a man to + keep an eye on. He may do something by-and-by if he doesn’t go off the + lines. We must try and lick him into shape a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally knew extremely little about the politics, foreign or + domestic, of the English nation. His father neither read newspapers nor + cared to discuss such rumours of the doings of Governments as happened to + reach Carrowkeel. On the other hand, he knew a good deal about the history + of Ireland, and the English were still for him the ‘new foreigners’ whom + Keating describes. His intercourse with the fishermen and peasants of the + Galway seaboard had intensified his vague dislike of the series of + oscillations between bullying and bribery which make up the story of + England’s latest attempts to govern Ireland. Without in the least + understanding the reasons for the war in South Africa, he felt a strong + sympathy with the Boers. To him they seemed a small people doomed, if they + failed to defend themselves, to something like the treatment which Ireland + had received. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore with surprise, almost with horror, that he listened for + the first time to the superlative Imperialism of the Protestant Unionist + party when he attended the prayer-meeting to which he had been invited. + The room was well filled with students, who joined heartily in the singing + of ‘Onward, Christian soldiers,’ a hymn selected as appropriate for the + occasion. An address by the chairman, a Dublin clergyman, followed. + According to this gentleman the Boers were a psalm-singing but + hypocritical nation addicted to slave-driving. England, on the other hand, + was the pioneer of civilization, and the nursing-mother of missionary + enterprise. It was therefore clear that all good Christians ought to pray + for the success of the British arms. The speech bewildered rather than + irritated Hyacinth. The mind gasps for a time when immersed suddenly in an + entirely new view of things, and requires time to adjust itself for + pleasure or revolt, just as the body does when plunged into cold water. It + had never previously occurred to him that an Irishman could regard England + as anything but a pirate. Anger rapidly succeeded his surprise while he + listened to the prayers which followed. It was apparently open to any + student present to give utterance, as occasion offered, to his desires, + and a large number of young men availed themselves of the opportunity. + Some spoke briefly and haltingly, some laboriously attempted to adapt the + phraseology of the Prayer-Book to the sentiment of the moment, a few had + the gift of rapid and even eloquent supplication. These last were the + hardest to endure. They prefaced their requests with fantastic eulogies of + England’s righteousness, designed apparently for the edification of the + audience present in the flesh, for they invariably began by assuring the + Almighty that He was well aware of the facts, and generally apologized to + Him for recapitulating them. Hyacinth’s anger increased as he heard the + fervent groans which expressed the unanimous conviction of the justice of + the petitions. No one seemed to think it possible that the right could be + on the other side. + </p> + <p> + When the meeting was over, the secretary, whose name, it appeared, was + Mackenzie, greeted Hyacinth warmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Glad to have you with us,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll always come. I shall + be delighted to propose you as a member of the union. Subscription one + shilling, to defray necessary expenses. In any case, whether you subscribe + or not, we shall be glad to have you with us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall never come again,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + Mackenzie drew back, astonished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not? Didn’t you like the meeting? I thought it was capital—so + informal and hearty. Didn’t you think it was hearty? But perhaps you are + High Church. Are you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth remembered that this identical question had been put to him the + day before by the pimply-faced boy who distributed leaflets. He wondered + vaguely at the importance which attached to the nickname. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not sure,’ he said, ‘that I quite know what you mean. You see, I + have only just entered the divinity school, and I hardly know anything + about theology. What is a High Churchman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it doesn’t require any theology to know that. It’s the simplest thing + in the world. A High Churchman is—well, of course, a High Churchman + sings Gregorian chants, you know, and puts flowers on the altar. There’s + more than that, of course. In fact, a High Churchman———’ + He paused and then added with an air of victorious conviction: ‘But anyhow + if you were High Church you would be sure to know it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well,’ said Hyacinth, turning to leave the room, ‘I don’t know + anything about it, so I suppose I’m not High Church.’ + </p> + <p> + Mackenzie, however, was not going to allow him to escape so easily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold on a minute. If you’re not High Church why won’t you come to our + meetings?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I can’t join in your prayers when I am not at all sure that + England ought to win.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good Lord!’ said Mackenzie. It is possible to startle even the secretary + of a prayer union into mild profanity. ‘You don’t mean to tell me you are + a Pro-Boer, and you a divinity student?’ + </p> + <p> + It had not hitherto struck Hyacinth that it was impossible to combine a + sufficient orthodoxy with a doubt about the invariable righteousness of + England’s quarrels. Afterwards he came to understand the matter better. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Mackenzie was not at heart an ill-natured man, and he would have + repudiated with indignation the charge of being a mischief-maker. He felt + after his conversation with Hyacinth much as most men would if they + discovered an unsuspected case of small-pox among their acquaintances. His + first duty was to warn the society in which he moved of the existence of a + dangerous man, a violent and wicked rebel. He repeated a slightly + exaggerated version of what Hyacinth had said to everyone he met. The + pleasurable sense of personal importance which comes with having a story + to tell grew upon him, and he spent the greater part of the day in seeking + out fresh confidants to swell the chorus of his commination. + </p> + <p> + In England at the time public opinion was roused to a fever heat of + patriotic enthusiasm, and the Irish Protestant Unionists were eager to + outdo even the music-halls in Imperialist sentiment, the students of + Trinity College being then, as ever, the ‘death or glory’ boys of Irish + loyalty. It is easy to imagine how Hyacinth’s name was whispered + shudderingly in the reading-room of the library, how his sentiments were + anathematized in the dining-hall at commons, how plots were hatched for + the chastisement of his iniquity over the fire in the evenings, when pipes + were lit and tea was brewed. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the week Hyacinth was in an exceedingly uncomfortable + position. Outside the lecture-rooms nobody would speak to him. Inside he + found himself the solitary occupant of the bench he sat on—a + position of comparative physical comfort, for the other seats were + crowded, but not otherwise desirable. A great English poet had just + composed a poem, which a musician, no doubt equally eminent, had set to a + noble tune. It embodied an appeal for funds for purposes not clearly + specified, and hazarded the experiment of rhyming ‘cook’s son’ with + ‘Duke’s son,’ which in less fervent times might have provoked the + criticism of the captious. It became the fashion in college to chant this + martial ode whenever Hyacinth was seen approaching. It was thundered out + by a choir who marched in step up and down his staircase. Bars of it were + softly hummed in his ear while he tried to note the important truths which + the lecturers impressed upon their classes. One night five musicians + relieved each other at the task of playing the tune on a concertina + outside his door. They commenced briskly at eight o’clock in the evening, + and the final sleepy version only died away at six the next morning. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry, who either did not know or chose to ignore the state of the + students’ feelings, advised Hyacinth to become a member of the Theological + Debating Society. The election to membership, he said, was a mere form, + and nobody was ever excluded. Hyacinth sent his name to the secretary, and + was blackbeaned by an overwhelming majority of the members. Shortly + afterwards the Lord-lieutenant paid a visit to the college, and the + students seized the chance of displaying their loyalty to the Throne and + Constitution. They assembled outside the library, which the representative + of Queen Victoria was inspecting under the guidance of the Provost and two + of the senior Fellows. It is the nature of the students of Trinity College + to shout while they wait for the development of interesting events, and on + this occasion even the library walls were insufficient to exclude the + noise. The excellent nobleman inside found himself obliged to cast round + for original remarks about the manuscript of the ‘Book of Kells,’ while + the air was heavy with the verses which commemorate the departure of + ‘fifty thousand fighting men’ to Table Bay. When at length he emerged on + the library steps the tune changed, as was right and proper, to ‘God save + the Queen.’ Strangely enough, Hyacinth had never before heard the national + anthem. It is not played or sung often by the natives of Connemara, and + although the ocean certainly forms part of the British Empire, the + Atlantic waves have not yet learned to beat out this particular melody. So + it happened that Hyacinth, without meaning to be offensive, omitted the + ceremony of removing his hat. A neighbour, joyful at the opportunity, + snatched the offending garment, and skimmed it far over the heads of the + crowd. A few hard kicks awakened Hyacinth more effectually to a sense of + his crime, and it was with a torn coat and many bruises that he escaped in + the end to the shelter of his rooms, less inclined to be loyal than when + he left them. + </p> + <p> + After a few weeks it became clear that the British armies in South Africa + were not going to reap that rich and unvarying crop of victories which the + valour of the soldiers and the ability of the generals deserved. The + indomitable spirit of the great nation rose to the occasion, and the + position of those who entertained doubts about the justice of the original + quarrel became more than ever unbearable. Hyacinth took to wandering by + himself through parts of the city in which he was unlikely to meet any of + his fellow-students. His soul grew bitter within him. The course of petty + persecution to which he was subjected hardened his original sentimental + sympathy with the Boer cause into a clearly defined hatred of everything + English. When he got clear of the college and the hateful sound of the + ‘cook’s son, Duke’s son’ tune, he tramped along, gloating quietly over the + news of the latest ‘regrettable incident.’ + </p> + <p> + He was very lonely and friendless, for not even the discomfiture of his + enemies can make up to a young man for the want of a friend to speak to. + An inexpressible longing for home came over him. There was a shop in a + by-street which exposed photographs of Galway scenery in its windows for a + time. Hyacinth used to go day by day to gaze at them. The modest front of + the Gaelic League Hyce was another haunt of his. He used to stand Debating + his eyes on the Irish titles of the books in the window, and repeating the + words he read aloud to himself until the passers-by turned to look at him. + Once he entered a low-browed, dingy shop merely because the owner’s name + was posted over the door in Gaelic characters. It was one of those shops + to be found in the back streets of most large towns which devote + themselves to a composite business, displaying newspapers, apples, + tobacco, and sweets for sale. The afternoon light, already growing feeble + in the open air, had almost deserted the interior of the shop. At first + Hyacinth saw nothing but an untidy red-haired girl reading in a corner by + the light of a candle. He asked her for cigarettes. She rose, and laid her + book and the candle on the counter. It was one of O’Growney’s Irish + primers, dirty and pencilled. Hyacinth’s heart warmed to her at once. Was + she not trying to learn the dear Irish which the barefooted girls far away + at home shouted to each other as they dragged the seaweed up from the + shore? Then from the far end of the shop he heard a man’s voice speaking + Irish. It was not the soft liquid tongue of the Connaught peasants, but a + language more regular and formal. The man spoke it as if it were a + language he had learned, comparatively slowly and with effort. Yet the + sound of it seemed to Hyacinth one of the sweetest things he had ever + heard. Not even the shrinking self-distrust which he had been taught by + repeated snubbings and protracted ostracism could prevent him from making + himself known to this stranger. + </p> + <p> + ‘The blessing of God upon Ireland!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + There was not a moment’s hesitation on the part of the stranger. The sound + of the Gaelic was enough for him. He stretched out both hands to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it that you also are one of us—one of the Gaels?’ he asked. + Hyacinth seized the outstretched hands and held them tight. The feeling of + offered friendship and companionship warmed him with a sudden glow. He + felt that his eyes were filling with tears, and that his voice would break + if he tried to speak, but he did not care at all. He poured out a long + Gaelic greeting, scarcely knowing what he said. Perhaps neither the man + whose hands he held nor the owner of the shop behind the counter fully + understood him, but they guessed at his feelings. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it that you are a stranger here and lonely? Where is your home? What + name is there on you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maiseadh, I am a stranger indeed and lonely too,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a stranger no longer, then. We are all of us friends with each + other. You speak our own dear tongue, and that is enough to make us + friends.’ + </p> + <p> + The tobacconist, it appeared, also spoke Irish of a kind. He cast + occasional remarks into the conversation which followed, less, it seemed + to Hyacinth, with a view of giving expression to any thought than for the + sake of airing some phrases which he had somewhat inadequately learned. + Indeed, it struck Hyacinth very soon that his new friend was getting + rather out of his depth in his ‘own dear tongue.’ At last the tobacconist + said with a smile: + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid we must ask Mr. Conneally—didn’t you say that Conneally + was your name?—to speak the Beurla. I’m clean beaten with the + Gaelic, and you can’t go much further yourself, Cahal. Isn’t that the + truth, now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And small blame to me,’ said Cahal—in English, Charles—Maguire. + ‘After all, what am I but a learner? And it’s clear that Mr. Conneally has + spoken it since ever he spoke at all.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth smiled and nodded. Maguire went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you doing this afternoon? What do you say to coming round with + me to see Mary O’Dwyer? It’s her “at home” day, and I’m just on my way + there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I don’t know her. I can hardly go to her house, can + I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’ll introduce you,’ said Maguire cheerfully. ‘She allows me to bring + anyone I like to see her. She likes to know anyone who loves Ireland and + speaks Gaelic. Perhaps we’ll meet Finola too; she’s often there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Meet who?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Finola. That’s what we call Miss Goold—Augusta Goold, you know. We + call her Finola because she shelters the rest of us under her wings when + the Moyle gets tempestuous. You remember the story?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I do,’ said Hyacinth, who had learnt the tale of Lir’s daughter + as other children do Jack the Giant-Killer. ‘And who is Miss O’Dwyer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, she writes verses. Surely you know them?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a pity! We all admire them immensely. She has something nearly every + week in the <i>Croppy</i>. She has just brought out a volume of lyrics. + Her brother worked the publishing of it in New York. He is mixed up with + literary people there. You must have heard of him at all events. He’s + Patrick O’Dwyer, one of the few who stood by O’Neill when he fought the + priests. He gave up the Parliamentary people after that. No honest man + could do anything else.’ + </p> + <p> + He conducted Hyacinth to one of the old squares on the north side of the + city. When the tide of fashion set southwards, spreading terraces and + villas from Leeson Street to Killiney, it left behind some of the finest + houses in Dublin. Nowadays for a comparatively low rent it is possible to + live in a splendid house if you do not aspire to the glory of a smart + address. Miss O’Dwyer’s house, for instance, boasted a spacious hall and + lofty sitting-rooms, with impressive ceilings and handsome fireplaces; yet + she paid for it little more than half the rent which a cramped villa in + Clyde Road would have cost her. Even so, it was somewhat of a mystery to + her friends how Miss O’Dwyer managed to live there. A solicitor who had + his offices on the ground-floor probably paid the rent of the whole house; + but the profits of verse-making are small, and a poetess, like meaner + women, requires food, clothes, and fire. Indeed, Miss O’Dwyer, no longer + ‘M. O’D.,’ whose verses adorned the <i>Croppy</i>, but ‘Miranda,’ served + an English paper as Irish correspondent. It was a pity that a pen + certainly capable of better things should have been employed in describing + the newest costume of the Lord Lieutenant’s wife at Punchestown, or the + confection of pale-blue tulle which, draped round Mrs. Chesney, adorned a + Castle ball. Miss O’Dwyer herself was heartily ashamed of the work, but it + was, or appeared to her to be, necessary to live, and even with the aid of + occasional remittances from Patrick in New York, she could scarcely have + afforded her friends a cup of tea without the guineas earned by torturing + the English language in a weekly chronicle of Irish society’s clothes. + Even with the help of such earnings, poverty was for ever tapping her on + the shoulder, and no one except Mary herself and her one maid-servant knew + how carefully fire and light had to be economized in the splendid rooms + where an extinct aristocracy had held revels a century before. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth and his friend advanced past the solicitor’s doors, and up the + broad staircase as far as the drawing-room. For a time they got no further + than the threshold. The opening of the door was greeted with a long-drawn + and emphatic ‘Hush!’ from the company within. Maguire laid his hand on + Hyacinth’s arm, and the two stood still looking into the room. What was + left of the feeble autumn twilight was almost excluded by half-drawn + curtains. No lamp was lit, and the fire cast only fitful rays here and + there through the room. It was with difficulty that Hyacinth discerned + figures in a semicircle, and a slim woman in a white dress standing apart + from the others near the fire. Then he heard a voice, a singularly sweet + voice, as it seemed to him, reciting with steady emphasis on the syllables + which marked the rhythm of the poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Out there in the West, where the heavy gray clouds are + insistent, + Where the sky stoops to gather the earth into mournful + embraces, + Where the country lies saturate, sodden, round saturate + hamlets— + + ‘Out there in the sunset where rages and surges Atlantic, + And the salt is commingled with rain over desolate beaches, + Thy heart, O beloved, is still beating—fitfully, feebly. + + ‘Is beating—ah! not as it beat in the squadrons of Sarafield, + Exultantly, joyously, gladly, expectant of battle, + With throbs like the notes of the drums when men gather for + fighting. + + ‘Beats still; but, ah! not as it beat in the latest Fitzgerald, + Nobly devote to his race’s most noble tradition; + Or in Emmet or Davis, or, last on their list, in O’Brien. + + ‘Beats fitfully, feebly. O desolate mother! O Erin! + When shall the pulse of thy life, which but flutters in + Connaucht, + Throb through thy meadows and boglands, and mountains and + cities?’ +</pre> + <p> + A subdued murmur of applause greeted the close of the recitation, and + praise more sincere than that with which politeness generally greets the + drawing-room performances of minor poets. Hyacinth joined in neither. It + seemed to him that the verses were too beautiful to speak about, so sacred + that praise was a kind of sacrilege. Perhaps some excuse may be found for + his emotion in the fact that for weeks he had heard no poetry except the + ode about ‘wiping something off a slate.’ The violence of the contrast + benumbed his critical faculty. So a man who was obliged to gaze for a long + time at the new churches erected in Belfast might afterwards catch himself + in the act of admiring the houses which the Congested Districts Board + builds in Connaught. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid I must have bored you.’ It was Miss O’Dwyer who greeted him. + ‘I didn’t see you and Mr. Maguire come in until I had commenced my poor + little poem. I ought to have given you some tea before I inflicted it on + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it was beautiful. Is it really your own? Did you + write it?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer flushed. The vehement sincerity of his tone embarrassed her, + though she was accustomed to praise. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very kind,’ she said. ‘All my friends here are far too kind to + me. But come now, I must give you some tea.’ + </p> + <p> + The tea was nearly stone cold and weak with frequent waterings. The saucer + and spoon, possibly even the cup, had been used by someone else before. + Mr. Maguire secured for himself the last remaining morsel of cake, leaving + Hyacinth the choice between a gingerbread biscuit and a torn slice of + bread and butter. None of these things appeared to embarrass Miss O’Dwyer. + They did not matter in the least to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know the West well?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, I do not. I’ve always longed to go and spend a whole long summer + there, but I’ve never had the chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then how did you know it was like that? I mean, how did you catch the + spirit of it in your poem?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did I?’ she said. ‘I am so glad. But I don’t deserve any credit for it. I + wrote those verses after I had been looking at one of Jim Tynan’s + pictures. You know them, of course? No? Oh, but you must go and see them + at once if you love the West. And you do, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is my home,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished his tea she introduced him to some of the people who + were in the room. Afterwards he came to know them, but the memories which + Miss O’Dwyer’s verses called up in him made him absent and preoccupied. He + scarcely heard the names she spoke. Soon the party broke up, and Hyacinth + turned to look for Maguire. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid Mr. Maguire has gone,’ said Miss O’Dwyer. ‘He has a lecture to + attend this afternoon. You must come here again, Mr. Conneally. Come next + Wednesday—every Wednesday, if you like. We can have a talk about the + West. I shall want you to tell me all sorts of things. Perhaps Finola will + be here next week. She very often comes. I shall look forward to + introducing you to her. You are sure to admire her immensely. We all do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I’ve heard of her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘Mr. Maguire told me who she + was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but he couldn’t have told you half. She is magnificent. All the rest + of us are only little children compared to her. Now be sure you come and + meet her.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Ever since Pitt and Castlereagh perpetrated their Act of Union two political + parties have struggled together in Ireland. Both of them have been + steadily prominent, so prominent that they have sometimes attracted the + attention of the English public, and drawn to their contest a little quite + unintelligent interest. The simplest and most discernible line of division + between them is a religious one. The Protestant party has hitherto been + guided and led by the gentry. It has been steadily loyal to England and to + the English Government. It has not been greatly concerned about Ireland or + Ireland’s welfare, but has been consistently anxious to preserve its own + privileges, powers, and property. It has not come well out of the struggle + of the nineteenth century. Its Church has been disestablished, its + privileges and powers abolished, and the last remnants of its property are + being filched from it. It is a curious piece of irony that this party + should have hastened its own defeat by the very policy adopted to secure + victory. No doubt the Irish aristocracy would have suffered less if they + had been seditious instead of loyal. The Roman Catholic party has been led + by ecclesiastics, and has always included the bulk of the people. Its + leaders have not cared for the welfare of Ireland any more than the + Protestant party, but they have always pretended that they did, being in + this respect much wiser than their opponents. They have pulled the strings + of a whole series of political movements, and made puppets dance on and + off the stage as they chose. Also they have understood how to deal with + England. Unlike the Protestant party, they have never been loyal, because + they knew from the first that England gives most to those who bully or + worry her. They have kept one object steadily in view, an object quite as + selfish in reality as that of the aristocracy—the aggrandisement of + their Church. For this they have been prepared at any time to sacrifice + the interests of Ireland, and are content at the present moment to watch + the country bleeding to death with entire complacency. The leaders of this + party enter upon the twentieth century in sight of their promised land. + They possess all the power and nearly all the wealth of Ireland. If the + Bishops can secure the continuance of English government for the next + half-century Ireland will have become the Church’s property. Her money + will go to propagating the faith. Her children will supply the + English-speaking world with a superfluity of priests and nuns. + </p> + <p> + Outside both parties there have always been a few men united by no ties of + policy or religion, unless, as perhaps we may, we call patriotism a kind + of religion. Other lands have been loved sincerely, devotedly, + passionately, as mothers, wives, and mistresses are loved. Ireland alone + has been loved religiously, as men are taught to love God or the saints. + Her lovers have called themselves Catholic or Protestant: such + distinctions have not mattered to these men. They have scarcely ever been + able to form themselves into a party, never into a strong or a wise party. + They have been violent, desperate, frequently ridiculous, but always + sincere and unselfish. Their great weakness has lain in the fact that they + have had no consistent aim. Some of their leaders have looked for a return + to Ireland’s Constitution, and built upon the watchword of the volunteers, + ‘The King, the Lords, and the Commons of Ireland.’ Some have dreamed of a + complete independence, of an Irish republic shaping its own world policy. + Some have wholly distrusted politics, and given their strength to the + intellectual, spiritual, or material regeneration of the people. Among + these men have been found the sanest practical reformers and the wildest + revolutionary dreamers. On the outskirts of their company have hung all + sorts of people. Parliamentary politicians have leaned towards them, and + been driven straightway out of public life. Criminals have claimed + fellowship with them, and brought discredit upon honourable men. Poets and + men of letters have drawn their inspiration from their strivings, and in + return have decked their patriotism with imperishable splendour. In the + future, no doubt, the struggle will lie between this party and the + hitherto victorious hierarchy, with England for ally, and the fight seems + a wholly unequal one. It was into an advanced and vehement group of + patriots that Mary O’Dwyer introduced Hyacinth. He became a regular reader + of the <i>Croppy</i>, and made the acquaintance of most of the + contributors to its pages. He found them clever, enthusiastic, and + agreeable men and women, but, as he was forced to admit to himself, + occasionally reckless. One evening a discussion took place in Mary + O’Dwyer’s room which startled and shocked him. Excitement ran high over + the events of the war. The sympathies of the ‘Independent Irelanders,’ as + they called themselves, fiercely assertive even in their name, were of + course entirely with the Boers, and they received every report of an + English reverse with unmixed satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth entered the room he found four people there. Mary O’Dwyer + herself was making tea at a little table near the fire. Augusta Goold—the + famous Finola—was stretched in a deep chair smoking a cigarette. She + was a remarkable woman both physically and intellectually. It was her + delight to emphasize her splendid figure by draping it in brilliant reds + and yellows. To anyone who cared to speculate on such a subject it seemed + a mystery why her clothes remained on her when she walked. The laws of + gravity seemed to demand that they should loosen with her movements, + become detached, and finally drop down. Nothing of the sort had ever + happened, so it must be presumed that she had secret and unconventional + ways of fastening them. Similarly it was not easy to see why her hair + stayed upon her head. It was arranged upon no recognised system, and + suggested that she had perfected the art, known generally only to heroines + of romances, of twisting her tresses with a single movement into a loose + knot. That she affected white frills of immense complexity was frequently + evident, owing to the difficulty she experienced in confining her long + legs to feminine attitudes. Her complexion put it in the power of her + enemies to accuse her of familiarity with cosmetics—a slander, for + she had been observed to turn green during an attack of sea-sickness. She + had great brilliant eyes, which were capable of expressing intensity of + enthusiasm or hatred, but no one had ever seen them soften with any + emotion like love. Her attitude towards social conventions was symbolized + by her clothes. In the old days, when the houses of ‘society’ had still + been open to her, she was accustomed to challenge criticism by fondling a + pet monkey at tea-parties. Since she had lost caste by taking up the cause + of ‘Independent Ireland’ the ape had been discarded, and the same result + achieved by occasional bickerings with the police. She was an able public + speaker, and could convince her audiences for a time of the reasonableness + of opinions which next morning appeared to be the outcome of delirium. She + wrote, not, like Mary O’Dwyer, verse in which any sentiment may be + excused, but incisive and vigorous prose. Occasionally even the Castle + officials got glimmerings of the meaning of one of her articles, and + suppressed the whole issue of the <i>Croppy</i> in which it appeared. + </p> + <p> + Near her sat a much less remarkable person—Thomas Grealy, historian + and archaeologist. He had been engaged for many years on a history of + Ireland, but no volume of it had as yet appeared. His friends suspected + that he had got permanently stuck somewhere about the period of the + introduction of Christianity into the island. His essays, published in the + <i>Croppy</i>, dwelt with passionate regret on the departed glories of + Tara. He held strong views about the historical reality of the + Tuath-de-Danaan, and got irritated at the most casual mention of Dr. + Petrie’s theory of the round towers. He had proved that King Arthur was an + Irishman, with whose reputation Malory and Tennyson had taken + unwarrantable liberties. The name of Dante brought a smile of contempt to + his lips, for he knew that the ‘Purgatorio’ was stolen shamelessly from + the works of a monk of Cong. He nourished a secret passion for Finola. He + never ventured to declare it, but his imagination endowed every heroine, + from Queen Maev down to the foster daughter of the Leinster farmer who + married King Cormac, with Miss Goold’s figure, eyes and hair. It was + perhaps the burning of this passion which rendered him so cadaverous that + his clothes—in other respects also they looked as if they had been + bought in far-off happier days—hung round him like the covering of a + broken-ribbed umbrella. + </p> + <p> + The fourth person present was Timothy Halloran, who hovered about Mary + O’Dwyer’s tea-table. He was what the country people call a ‘spoilt + priest.’ Destined by simple and pious parents to take Holy Orders, he got + as far as the inside of Maynooth College. While there he had kicked a + fellow-student down the whole length of a long corridor for telling tales + to the authorities. A committee of ecclesiastics considered the case, and + having come to the conclusion that he lacked vocation for the priesthood, + sent him home. Timothy was accustomed to say that his violence might have + been passed over, but that his failure to appreciate the devotion to duty + which inspired the tale-bearer marked him decisively as unfit for + ordination. He never regretted his expulsion, although he complained + bitterly that he had been nearly choked before they cast him out. He + meant, it is to be supposed, that the effort to instil a proper reverence + for dogma had almost destroyed his capacity for thought, not that the + fingers of the reverend professors had actually closed around his + windpipe. His subsequent experiences had included a period of teaching in + an English Board School, a brief, but not wholly unsatisfactory, career as + a political organizer in New York, and a return to Ireland, where he + earned a precarious living as a journalist. + </p> + <p> + All four greeted Hyacinth warmly as he entered the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘We were just discussing,’ said Mary O’Dwyer, ‘the failure of our attempt + to organize a field hospital and a staff of nurses for the Boers. It is a + shame to have to admit that the English garrison in Ireland can raise + thousands of pounds for their war funds, and the Irish can’t be got to + subscribe a few hundreds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The wealth of the country,’ said Grealy, ‘is in the hands of a minority—the + so-called Loyalists.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Finola sharply. ‘If you ever gave a thought to anything + more recent than the High-King’s Court at Tara you would know that the + landlords are not the wealthy part of the community any longer. There’s + many a provincial publican calling himself a Nationalist who could buy up + the nearest landlord and every Protestant in the parish along with him. + I’m a Protestant myself, born and bred among the class you speak of, and I + know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re quite right, Miss Goold,’ said Tim. ‘The people could have given + the money if they liked. I attribute the failure of the fund to the apathy + or treachery of the priests, call it which you like. There isn’t a + Protestant church in the country where the parsons don’t preach “Give + give, give” to their people Sunday after Sunday. And what’s the result? + Why, they have raised thousands of pounds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘After the poem you published in last week’s <i>Croppy</i>,’ said Hyacinth + to Mary O’Dwyer, ‘I made sure the subscriptions would have come in. Your + appeal was one of the most beautiful things I ever read. It would have + touched the heart of a stone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poetry is all well enough,’ said Tim. ‘I admire your verses, Mary, as + much as anyone, but we want a collection at every church door after Mass. + That’s what we ought to have, but it’s exactly what we won’t get, because + the priests are West Britons at heart. They would pray for the Queen and + the army to-morrow, like Cardinal Vaughan, if they weren’t afraid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe,’ said Finola, ‘that we went the wrong way about the thing + altogether. We asked for a hospital, and we appealed to the people’s pity + for the wounded Boers. Nobody in Ireland cares a pin about the Boers. Why + on earth should we? From all I can hear they are a narrow-minded, + intolerant set of hypocrites. I’d just as soon read the stuff some fool of + an English newspaper man wrote about “our brother the Boer” as listen to + the maudlin sentiment our people talk. We don’t want to help the Boers. We + want to hurt the English.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you think——’ said Grealy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ went on Finola, ‘that we ought to have asked for volunteers to + go out and fight, instead of nurses to cocker up the men who are fools + enough to get themselves shot. We’d have got them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You would not,’ said Tim. ‘The clergy would have been dead against you. + They would have nipped the whole project in the bud without so much as + making a noise in doing it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s true,’ said Grealy. ‘Remember, Miss Goold, it was the priests who + cursed Tara, and the monks who broke the power of the Irish Kings. I + haven’t worked the thing out yet, but I mean to show——’ + </p> + <p> + Finola interrupted the poor man ruthlessly: + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s try it, anyway. Let’s preach a crusade.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not the least bit of good,’ said Tim. ‘Every blackguard in the country is + enlisted already in the Connaught Bangers or the Dublin Fusiliers, or some + confounded Militia regiment. There’s nobody left but the nice, + respectable, goody-goody boys who wouldn’t leave their mothers or miss + going to confession if you went down on your knees to them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, the Irish troops ought to shoot their officers, and walk over + to the Boer camp,’ said Finola savagely. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth half smiled at what seemed to him a monstrous jest. Then, when he + perceived that she was actually in earnest, the smile froze into a kind of + grin. His hands trembled with the violence of his indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be devilish treachery,’ he blurted out. ‘The name of Irishman + will never be disgraced by such an act.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold flung her cigarette into the grate, and rose from her chair. + She stood over Hyacinth, her hands clenched and her bosom heaving rapidly. + Her eyes blazed down into his until their scorn cowed him. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no treachery possible for an Irishman,’ she said, ‘except the + one of fighting for England. Any deed against England—yes, <i>any</i> + deed—is glorious, and not shameful.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was utterly quelled. He ventured upon no reply. Indeed, not only + did her violence render argument undesirable—and it seemed for the + moment that he would find himself in actual grips with a furious Amazon—but + her words carried with them a certain conviction. It actually seemed to + him while she spoke as if a good defence might be made for Irish soldiers + who murdered their officers and deserted to an enemy in the field. It was + not until hours afterwards, when the vivid impression of Finola’s face had + faded from his recollection, when he had begun to forget the flash of her + eyes, the poise of her figure, and the glow of her draperies, that his + moral sense was able to reassert itself. Then he knew that she had spoken + wickedly. It might be right for an Irishman to fight against England when + he could. It might be justifiable to seize the opportunity of England’s + embarrassment to make a bid for freedom by striking a blow at the Empire. + So far his conscience went willingly, but that treachery and murder could + ever be anything but horrible he refused altogether to believe. + </p> + <p> + Another conversation in which he took part about this time helped Hyacinth + still further to understand the position of his new friends. Tim Halloran + and he were smoking and chatting together over the fire when Maguire + joined them. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Halloran. ‘You look as if you’d been + at your mother’s funeral.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not so far out in your guess,’ said Maguire grimly. ‘I spent the + morning at my sister’s wedding. Would you like a bit of the cake?’ He + produced from his pocket a paper containing crushed fragments of white + sugar and a shapeless mass of citron and currants. ‘With the compliments + of the Reverend Mother,’ he said. ‘Try a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth do you mean?’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I assure you the Sisters of Pity do these things in style,’ said + Maguire. ‘It’s a pretty fancy, that of the wedding-cake, isn’t it? But + you’re a Protestant, Conneally; you don’t understand this delicate + playfulness. I was present to-day at the reception of my only sister into + the Institute of the Catholic Sisters of Pity, founded by Honoria + Kavanagh. I’ve lost Birdie Maguire, that’s all, the little girl that used + to climb on to my knee and kiss me, and instead of her there’s a Sister + Monica Mary, who will no doubt pray for my soul when she’s let.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was the figure in her case?’ asked Tim in a perfectly matter-of-fact + tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Six hundred pounds,’ said Maguire. ‘It must have put the old man to the + pin of his collar to pay it. The only time he ever talked to me about his + affairs he told me he had got four hundred pounds put by for Birdie’s + fortune, and that I was to have my medical course and whatever the old + shop would fetch when he was gone. They must have put the screw on pretty + tight to make him spring the extra two hundred. I dare say I shall suffer + for it in the end. He must have borrowed the money.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt intensely curious about this young nun. Like most + Protestants he had grown up to regard monasticism in all its forms as + something remote, partly horrible, wholly unintelligible. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did she do it?’ he asked. ‘What sort of a girl was she? Do you mind + telling me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ said Maguire. ‘Only I’m not sure that I know. Three + years ago—that is, when I left home—she was the last sort of + girl you could imagine going into a convent. She was pretty, fond of nice + clothes and admiration, as keen as every girl ought to be on a dance. I + never supposed she had a thought of religion in her head—I mean, + beyond the usual confessions and attendances at Mass.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose,’ said Hyacinth, ‘your people wanted it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think so,’ said Maguire. ‘Perhaps my mother did. I don’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, Conneally,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘it is a sort of hall-mark of + respectability among people like Maguire’s to have a girl in a good + convent. A little lower down in the social scale, in the class I come + from, the boys are made priests. A doctor is a more expensive article to + manufacture, so Maguire’s father selected that line of life for him. Not + that they could have made a priest of you, Maguire, in any case. You’d + have disgraced Maynooth, as I did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I thought a vocation for the life + was necessary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, so it is,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘but, you see, there’s the period of + the novitiate. Given a girl at an impressionable age, the proper convent + atmosphere, and a prize of six hundred pounds for the Order, and it will + go hard with the Reverend Mother if she can’t work the girl up to a + vocation. It takes a man a lifetime to make six hundred pounds in a + country shop, but there’s many a one who does it by hard work and + self-denial; then down come the nuns and sweep it away, and it’s wasted. + It ought to be invested in a local factory or in waterworks, or gas-works, + or fifty other things that would benefit the town it’s made in. It ought + to be fructifying and bearing interest; instead of which off it goes to + Munich for stained glass, or to Italy for a marble altar. Is it any wonder + Ireland is crying out with poverty?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Maguire, ‘and that’s not the worst of it. I’d be content to + let them take the damned money and deck their churches with it, but the + girls—there are hundreds of them caught every year for nuns, and + swept out of life. It isn’t the Irish convents alone that get them. + American nuns come over and Australian nuns, and they go round and round + the country picking up girls here and there, and carry them off. There, I + don’t want to talk too much about it. The money is nothing, but the girls + and boys——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems strange to me,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that when you think that way you + should go on belonging to your Church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Desert the Church!’ said Maguire. ‘We’ll never do that. How could we live + without religion? And what other religion is there? I grant you that your + priests wouldn’t rob us, but—but think of the cold of it. You can’t + realize it, Conneally, but think what it would mean to a Catholic—a + religion without saints, without absolution, without sacrifice. Besides, + what we complain of is not Catholicism. It’s a parasitic growth destroying + the true faith, defiling the Church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘and even from my point of view how should we be + the better of a change? Your Church is ruled by old women who think the + name of Englishman the most glorious in the world. You preach loyalty, and + I believe you pray for the Queen in your services. A nice fool I would + feel praying that the Queen should have victory over her enemies.’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time afterwards this conversation dwelt in Hyacinth’s mind. Tim + Halloran he knew to be practically a freethinker, but Maguire regularly + heard Mass on Sundays, and often went to confession. It was a puzzle how + he could do so, feeling as he did about the religious Orders. So insistent + did the problem become to his mind that he found himself continually + leading the conversation round to it from one side or another. Mary + O’Dwyer told him that she also had a sister in a nunnery. + </p> + <p> + ‘She teaches girls to make lace, and wonderful work they do. She is + perfectly happy. I think her face is the sweetest and most beautiful thing + I have ever seen. There is not a line on it of care or of fretfulness. It + seems to me as if her whole life might be described as a quiet smile. I + always feel better by the mere recollection of her face for a long time + after I have visited her. Oh, I know it wouldn’t do for me. I couldn’t + stand it for a week. I should go mad with the quiet restraint of it all. + But my sister is happy. I can’t forget that. I suppose she has a + vocation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Vocation,’ said Hyacinth thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I can understand how that + would make all the difference. But how many of them have the vocation?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you think vocation might be learnt? I mean mightn’t one grow into + it, if one wished to very much, and if the life was constantly before + one’s eyes, beautiful and calm?’ + </p> + <p> + It was almost the same thought which Timothy Halloran had suggested. Mary + O’Dwyer spoke of growing into vocation, Tim of the working of it up. Was + there any difference except a verbal one? + </p> + <p> + On another occasion he spoke to Dr. Henry about the position of the Church + of Ireland in the country. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have proved,’ said the professor, ‘that the Roman claims have no + support in Scripture, history, or reason. Our books remain unanswered, + because they are unanswerable. We can do no more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We might offer the Irish people a Church which they could join,’ said + Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘We do. We offer them the Church of St. Patrick, the ancient, historic + Church of Ireland. We offer them the two Sacraments of the Gospel, + administered by priests duly ordained at the hands of an Episcopate which + goes back in an unbroken line to the Apostles. We present them the three + great creeds for their assent. We use a liturgy that is at once ancient + and pure. The Church of Ireland has all this, is beyond dispute a branch + of the great Catholic Church of Christ.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be all you say,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but it is not national. In + sentiment and sympathy it is English and not Irish.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what you mean,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I think I understand how you + feel, but I cannot consent to the conclusion you want to draw. There is no + real meaning in the cry for nationality. It is a sentiment, a fashion, and + will pass. Even if it were genuine and enduring, I hold it to be better + for Ireland to be an integral part of a great Empire than a contemptible + and helpless item among the nations of the world, a prey to the intrigues + of ambitious foreign statesmen.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth sighed and turned to go, but Dr. Henry laid a hand upon his + shoulder and detained him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Conneally,’ he said kindly, ‘let me give you a word of advice. Don’t mix + yourself up with your new friends too much. You will ruin your own + prospects in life if you do. There is nothing more fatal to a man among + the people with whom you and I are to live and work than the suspicion of + being tainted with Nationalist ideas. You can’t be both a rebel and a + clergyman. You see,’ he added with a smile, ‘I take enough interest in you + to know who your friends are, and what you are thinking about.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Augusta Goold’s scheme for enrolling Irish volunteers to help the Boers + was duly set forth in the next issue of the <i>Croppy</i>. It included two + appeals—one for money and one for men. The details were worked out + with the frank contempt for possibility which characterizes some of the + famous suggestions of Dean Swift. She had the same faculty that he had for + bringing absurdities within the range of the commonplace; but there was + this difference between them—Miss Goold quite believed in her own + plans, while the great Dean no doubt grinned over the proof-sheets of his + ‘Modest Proposal.’ + </p> + <p> + It happened, most unfortunately, that the appeal synchronized with + another, also for funds, which was issued by Mr. O’Rourke, the leader of + the Parliamentary party. Since the death of John O’Neill the purse of the + party had been getting lean. The old tactics which used to draw plaudits + and dollars from the United States, as well as a tribute from every parish + in Ireland, had lately been unsuccessful. There were still violent scenes + in the House of Commons, but they no longer produced anything except + contemptuous smiles. Members of Parliament still succeeded occasionally in + getting the Chief Secretary to imprison them, but the glory of martyrdom + was harder to win than in the old days. Latterly things had come to such a + pass that even the reduced stipends offered to the members fell into + arrear. The attendance at Westminster dropped away. The Government could + afford to smile at Mr. O’Rourke’s efforts to make himself disagreeable, + and the Opposition were frankly contemptuous of a people who could not + profit them by more than a dozen votes in a critical division. It became + impossible to wring even a modest Land Bill from the Prime Minister, and + Mr. Chesney, now much at ease in the Secretary’s office in the Castle, + scarcely felt it necessary to be civil to deputations which wanted + railways. It was clear that something must be done, or Mr. O’Rourke’s + business would disappear. He decided to appeal for funds <i>orbi et urbi</i>. + The world—in this case North America—was to be visited, + exhorted, and, it was hoped, taxed by some of his most eloquent + lieutenants. Even Canada, with its leaven of Orangemen, was to be honoured + with the speeches of an orator of second-rate powers. The city—Dublin, + of course—was the chosen scene of the leader’s personal exertions. + Since his revolt against John O’Neill, O’Rourke had been a little shy of + Dublin audiences, but the pressing nature of the present crisis almost + forced him to pay his court to the capital. He found some comfort in the + recollection that during the five years that had elapsed since O’Neill’s + death he had missed no public opportunity of shedding tears beside his + tomb. He remembered, too, that he had put his name down for a large + subscription towards the erection of a statue to the dead leader, a work + of art which the existing generation seemed unlikely to have the pleasure + of seeing. + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that on the very day of the publication of Miss Goold’s + scheme Mr. O’Rourke announced his intention of addressing an appeal for + funds to a public meeting in the Rotunda. Miss Goold was disconcerted and + irritated. She was well aware that Mr. O’Rourke’s appeal would give the + respectable Nationalists an excellent excuse for ignoring hers, and + unfortunately the respectable people are just the ones who have most + money. She was confident that she could rely on the extreme section of the + Nationalists, and on that element in the city population which loves and + makes a row, but she could not count on the moneyed classes. They were, so + far as their words went, very enthusiastic for the Boer cause; but when it + came to writing cheques, it was likely that the counter-attractions of the + Parliamentary fund would prove too strong. + </p> + <p> + Since it seemed that Mr. O’Rourke would certainly spoil her collection, + the obvious thing to do was to try to spoil his. If he afforded people an + excuse for not paying the travelling expenses of her volunteers to Lorenzo + Marques, she would, if possible, suggest a way of escape from paying for + his men’s journeys to London. After all, no one really wanted to subscribe + to either fund, and it might be supposed that the public would very gladly + keep their purses shut altogether. + </p> + <p> + For an Irishman it is quite possible to be genuinely enthusiastic and at + the same time able to see the humorous side of his own enthusiasm. This is + a reason why an Irishman is never a bore unless, to gain his private ends, + he wants to be. Even an Irish advocate of total abstinence, or an Irish + antivaccinationist, if such a thing exists, is not a bore, because he will + always trot out his conscientious objections with a half-humorous, + half-deprecating smile. This same capacity for avoiding the slavery of + serious fanaticism enables an Irishman to cease quite joyfully from the + pursuit of his own particular fad in order to corner an obnoxious + opponent. Thus Augusta Goold and her friends were genuinely desirous of + striking a blow at England, and really believed that their volunteers + might do it; but this did not prevent them from finding infinite relish in + the prospect of watching Mr. O’Rourke squirming on the horns of a dilemma. + They took counsel together, and the result of their deliberations was + peculiar. They proposed to invite Mr. O’Rourke to join his appeal to + theirs, to pool the money which came in, and to divide it evenly between + the volunteers and the members of Parliament. It was Tim Halloran who hit + upon the brilliant idea. Augusta Goold chuckled over it as she grasped its + consequences. Mr. O’Rourke, Tim argued, would be unwilling to accept the + proposal because he wanted all the money he could get, more than was at + all likely to be collected. He would be equally unwilling to reject it, + because he could then be represented as indifferent to the heroic struggle + of the Boers. In the existing state of Irish and American opinion a + suspicion of such indifference would be quite sufficient to wreck his + chances of getting any money at all. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the obvious way of making such a proposal would have been by + letter to Mr. O’Rourke. Afterwards the correspondence—he must make a + reply of some sort—could be sent to the press, and sufficient + publicity would be given to the matter. This was what Tim Halloran wanted + to do, but such a course did not commend itself to Augusta Goold. It + lacked dramatic possibilities, and there was always the chance that the + leading papers might refuse to take any notice of the matter, or relegate + the letters to a back page and small print. Besides, a mere newspaper + controversy would not make a strong appeal to the section of the Dublin + populace on whose support she chiefly relied. A much more attractive plan + suggested itself. Augusta Goold, with a few friends to act as + aides-de-camp, would present herself to Mr. O’Rourke at his Rotunda + meeting, and put the proposal to him then and there in the presence of the + audience. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the few days before the meeting were occupied in + scattering suggestive seed over the hoardings and blank walls of the city. + One morning people were startled by the sight of an immense placard which + asked in violent red letters, ‘What is Ireland going to do?’ Public + opinion was divided about the ultimate purpose of the poster. The majority + expected the announcement of a new play or novel; a few held that a pill + or a cocoa would be recommended. Next morning the question became more + explicit, and the hypothesis of the play and the pill were excluded. + ‘What,’ the new poster ran, ‘is Ireland going to do for the Boers?’ The + public were not intensely anxious to find an answer to the conundrum + thrust thus forcibly on their attention, but they became curious to know + who the advertisers were who hungered for the information. Men blessed by + Providence with sagacious-looking faces made the most of their + opportunity, and informed their friends that the thing was a new dodge of + O’Rourke’s to get money. Their reputation suffered when the next placard + appeared. The advertisers had apparently changed their minds, for what + they now wanted to know was, ‘What are the Irish M.P.‘s going to do for + the Boers?’ Clearly Mr. O’Rourke could have nothing to gain by insisting + on an answer to such a question. The public were puzzled but pleased. The + bill-stickers of the city foresaw the possibility of realizing a + competence, for the next morning the satisfied inquirers published the + result of their investigations. ‘The Em Pees ‘(it was thus that they now + referred to the honourable members of Parliament) ‘are supporting the + infamies of England.’ It was at this point that the eye of a Castle + official was caught by one of the placards as he made his way to the + Kildare Street Club for luncheon. He discussed the matter with a + colleague, and it occurred to them that since they were paid for governing + Ireland, they ought to give the public some value for their money, and + seize the opportunity of doing something. They sent a series of telegrams + to Mr. Chesney’s London house, which were forwarded by his private + secretary to the Riviera. The replies which followed kept the Castle + officials in a state of pleasurable excitement until quite late in the + evening. At about eight o’clock large numbers of Metropolitan police + sallied out of their barracks and tore down the last batch of placards. + Next morning fresh ones were posted up, each of which bore the single + word, ‘Why?’ The bill-stickers were highly pleased, and many of them were + arrested for drunkenness. Mr. O’Rourke was much less pleased, for he began + to guess what the answer was likely to be, and how it would affect his + chances of securing a satisfactory collection. The officials were + perplexed. They suspected the ‘Why?’ of containing within its three + letters some hideous sedition, but it was not possible to deal vigorously + with what might, after all, be only the cunning novelty of some + advertising manufacturer. More telegrams harried Mr. Chesney, but before + any definite course of action had been decided on the morning of the + Rotunda meeting arrived, and with it an answer to the multifarious ‘Whys’: + Because O’Rourke wants all the money to spend in the London restaurants.’ + There was a great deal of laughter, and many people, quite uninterested in + politics, determined to go to the meeting in hopes of more amusement. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. O’Rourke took the chair the hall was crowded to its utmost + capacity. Under ordinary circumstances this would have augured well for + the success of his appeal, for it showed that the public were at all + events not apathetic. On this particular occasion, however, Mr. O’Rourke + would have been better pleased with a smaller audience. The placards had + shown him that something unpleasant was likely to occur, though they + afforded no hint of the form which the unpleasantness would take. When he + rose to his feet he was greeted with the usual volley of cheers, and + although some rude remarks about the Boers were made in the corners of the + hall, they did not amount to anything like an organized attempt at + interruption. He began his speech cautiously, feeling the pulse of his + audience, and plying them with the well-worn platitudes of the Nationalist + platform. When these evoked the usual enthusiasm he waxed bolder, and shot + out some almost original epigrams directed against the Government, working + up to a really new gibe about officials who sat like spiders spinning + murderous webs in Dublin Castle. The audience were delighted with this, + but their joy reached its height when someone shouted: ‘You might speak + better of the men who tore down the placard on Wednesday.’ Mr. O’Rourke + ignored the suggestion, and passed on to sharpen his wit upon the + landlords. He described them as ‘ill-omened tax-gatherers who suck the + life-blood of the country, and refuse to disgorge a penny of it for any + useful purpose.’ Mr. O’Rourke was not a man who shrank from a mixed + metaphor, or paused to consider such trifles as the unpleasantness which + would ensue if anyone who had been sucking blood were to repent and + disgorge it. ‘Where,’ he went on to ask, ‘do they spend their immense + revenues? Is it in Ireland?’ Here he made one of those dramatic pauses for + which his oratory was famous. The audience waited breathlessly for the + denunciation which was to follow. They were treated, unexpectedly, to a + well-conceived anticlimax. A voice spoke softly, but quite clearly, from + the back of the hall: + </p> + <p> + ‘Bedad, and I shouldn’t wonder if it was in the London restaurants.’ + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter followed. The orator might no doubt have made an + effective reply, but every time he opened his mouth minor wits, rending + like wolves the carcase of the original joke, yelled ‘turtle-soup’ at him, + or ‘champagne and oysters.’ He got angry, and consequently flurried. He + tried to quell the tumult by thundering out the denunciation which he had + prepared. But the delight which the audience took in shrieking the items + of their imaginary bill of fare was too much for him. He forgot what he + had meant to say, floundered, attempted to pull himself together, and + brought out the stale jest about providing each landlord with a single + ticket to Holyhead. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that same,’ said his original tormentor, ‘would be cheaper than + giving you a return ticket to London.’ + </p> + <p> + The audience was immensely tickled. So far the entertainment, if not + precisely novel, was better than anything they had hoped for, and everyone + had an agreeable conviction that there was still something in the way of a + sensation in store. Perhaps it was eagerness for the expected climax which + induced them to keep tolerably quiet during the remainder of Mr. + O’Rourke’s speech. He set forth at some length the glorious achievements + of his party in the past, and explained the opportunities of future + usefulness which lay to be grasped if only the necessary funds were + provided. He sat down to make way, as he assured the audience, for certain + tried and trusty soldiers of the cause who were waiting to propose + important resolutions. So far as these warriors were concerned, he might + as well have remained standing. Their resolutions are to this day + unproposed and uncommended—a secret joy, no doubt, to those who + framed them, but not endorsed by any popular approval. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally was not admitted to the secret councils of Augusta + Goold and her friends. He knew no more than the general public what kind + of a coup was meditated, but he gathered from Miss O’Dwyer’s nervous + excitement and Tim Halloran’s air of immense and mysterious importance + that something quite out of the common was likely to occur. By arriving an + hour and a half before the opening of the meeting he secured a seat near + the platform. He enjoyed the discomfiture of O’Rourke, whom he had learnt + from the pages of the <i>Croppy</i> to despise as a mere windbag, and to + hate as the betrayer of O’Neill. A sudden thrill of excitement went + through him when O’Rourke sat down. The whole audience turned their faces + from the platform towards the door at the far end of the hall, and + Hyacinth, without knowing exactly what he expected, turned too. There was + a swaying visible among the crowd near the door, and almost immediately it + became clear that someone was trying to force a way through the + densely-packed people. Curses were to be heard, and even cries from those + who were being trodden on. At last a way was made. Augusta Goold, followed + by Grealy, Halloran, and Mary O’Dwyer, came slowly up the hall towards the + platform. Those of the audience whose limbs had not been crushed or their + feet mangled in preparation for her progress cheered her wildly. Indeed, + she made a regal appeal to them. Even amidst a crowd of men her height + made her conspicuous, and she had arrayed herself for the occasion in a + magnificent violet robe. It flowed from her shoulders in spacious folds, + and swept behind her, splendidly contemptuous of the part it played as + scavenger amid the accumulated filth of the floor. Her bare arms shone out + of the wide sleeves which hung around them. Her neck rose strong and + stately over the silver clasp of a cloak which she had thrown back from + her shoulders. She wore a hat which seemed to hold her hair captive from + falling loose around her. One great tress alone escaped from it, and by + some cunning manipulation was made to stand straight out, as if blown by + the wind from its fastenings. In comparison her suite looked commonplace + and mean. Poor Miss O’Dwyer was arrayed—‘gowned,’ she would have + said herself in reporting the scene—in vesture not wanting in + splendour, but which beside Miss Goold’s could not catch the eye. Thomas + Grealy, awkward and stooped, peered through his glasses at the crowd. Tim + Halloran walked jauntily, but his eyes glanced nervously from side to + side. He was certainly ill at ease, possibly frightened, at the position + in which he found himself. + </p> + <p> + A hurried consultation took place among the gentlemen on the platform, + which ended in Mr. O’Rourke stepping forward with a smile and an + outstretched hand to welcome Augusta Goold as she ascended the steps. The + expression of his face belied the smile which he had impressed upon his + lips. His eyes had the same look of furtive malice as a dog’s which wants + to bite but fears the stick. Augusta Goold waved aside the proffered hand, + and stepped unaided on to the platform. Mr. O’Rourke placed a chair for + her, but she ignored it and stood, with her followers behind her, facing + the audience. O’Rourke and two of his tried and trusty members of + Parliament approached her. They stood between her and the audience, and + talked to her for some time, apparently very earnestly. Augusta Goold + looked past them, over them, sometimes it seemed through them, while they + spoke, but made them no answer whatever. At last Mr. O’Rourke shrugged his + shoulders, and withdrew to his chair with a sulky scowl. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘to ask a simple question of your chairman.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke rose. + </p> + <p> + ‘This meeting,’ he said, ‘is convened for the purpose of raising funds for + the carrying on of the national business in the House of Commons. If Miss + Goold’s question relates to the business in hand, I shall be most happy to + answer it. If not, I am afraid I cannot allow it to be asked here. At + another time and in another place I shall be prepared to listen to what + Miss Goold has to say, and in the meantime if she will take her seat on + the platform she will be heartily welcome.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My question,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘is intimately connected with the + business of the meeting. It is simply this: Are you, Mr. O’Rourke, + prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the Irish + people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + It was manifestly absurd to ask such a question at all. Mr. O’Rourke had + no intention of collecting money for the Boers, who seemed to have plenty + of their own, and he could not without breach of trust have applied funds + subscribed to feed and clothe members of Parliament to arming volunteers. + Nevertheless, it was an awkward question to answer in the presence of an + audience excited by Augusta Goold’s beauty and splendid audacity. A really + strong man, like, for instance, O’Rourke’s predecessor, John O’Neill, + might have faced the situation, and won, if not the immediate cheers, at + least the respect of the Irish people. But Mr. O’Rourke was not a strong + man, and besides he was out of temper and had lost his nerve. He took + perhaps the worst course open to him: he made a speech. He appealed to his + past record as a Nationalist, and to his publicly reiterated expressions + of sympathy with the Boer cause. He asked the audience to trust him to do + what was right, but he neither said Yes nor No to the question he was + asked. + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold stood calm and impassive while he spoke. A sneer gathered on + her lips and indrawn nostrils as he made his appeal for the people’s + confidence. When he had finished she said, very slowly, and with that + extreme distinctness of articulation which women speakers seem to learn so + much more easily than men: + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the + Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke was goaded into attempting another speech, but the audience + was in no mood to listen to him. He was interrupted again and again with + shouts of ‘Yes or no!’ ‘Answer the question!’ The bantering tone with + which they had plied him earlier in the evening with suggestions for a + menu had changed now into angry insistence. He passed his hand over his + forehead with a gesture of despair, and sat down. At once the tumult + ceased, and the people waited breathless for Augusta Goold to speak again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared’—she seemed to have learnt her question off by + heart—‘to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the + Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shea, a red-headed member of Parliament from Co. Limerick, being + himself one of those most deeply interested in the contents of the party’s + purse, sprang to his feet. It was clear that he was in a condition of + almost dangerous excitement, for he stammered, as he shouted to the + chairman: + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir, is this—this—this woman to be allowed to interrupt the + meeting? I demand her immediate removal.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold smiled at him. It was really a very gracious, almost a + tender, smile. One might imagine the divine Theodora in her earlier days + smiling with just such an expression on a plebeian lover whose passion she + regarded as creditable to him but hopeless. + </p> + <p> + ‘I assure you, Mr. Shea, that I shall not interrupt the business for more + than a minute. Mr. O’Rourke has only got to say one word—either Yes + or No. Are you prepared to give any portion of the funds entrusted to you + by the Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shea was not at all mollified either by the smile or the politeness of + her tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall not permit the meeting to be interrupted any more,’ he shouted. + ‘Either you will withdraw at once, or we shall have you removed by force.’ + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him again—a pitying smile, as if she regretted the + petulance of his manner, and turned to the chairman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared to give——’ + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Shea’s feelings became too strong for his self-control. He sprang + forward, apparently with the intention of laying violent hands upon + Augusta Groold. Hyacinth Conneally started up to protect her, and the same + impulse moved a large part of the audience. There was a rush for the + platform, and a fierce, threatening yell. Mr. Shea hung back, frightened. + Augusta Goold held up her hand, and immediately the rush stopped and the + people were silent. She went on with her question, taking it up at the + exact word which Mr. Shea had interrupted, in the same level and + exquisitely irritating tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘—Any of the money entrusted to you by the Irish people to assist + the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke had sat scowling silently since the failure of his last + attempt to explain himself. This final disjointed repetition of the + galling question roused him to the necessity of doing something. He was a + pitiful sight as he rose and confronted Augusta Goold. There were blotches + of purple red and spaces of pallor on his face; his hands twisted + together; a sweat had broken out from his neck, and made his collar limp. + His words were a stammering mixture of bluster and appeal. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mustn’t—mustn’t—mustn’t interrupt the meeting,’ So far he + tried to assert himself, then, with a glance at the contemptuous face of + the woman before him, he relapsed into the tone of a schoolboy who begs + off the last strokes of a caning. ‘Is this nice conduct? Is it ladylike to + come here and attack us like this? Miss Goold, I’m ashamed of you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad to hear,’ said Augusta Goold, departing for the first time from + her question, ‘that there is anything left in the world that Mr. O’Rourke + is ashamed of. I didn’t think there was.’ + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Shea and not his leader who resented this last insult. His lips + drew apart, leaving his teeth bare in a ghastly grin. He clenched his + fists, and stood for a moment trembling from head to foot. Then he leaped + forward towards Augusta Goold. The man who stood next Hyacinth lurched + suddenly forward, wrenched his right hand free of the crowd round him, and + flung it back behind his head. Hyacinth saw that he held a large stone in + it. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a cowardly blackguard, Shea,’ he yelled—‘a damned, cowardly + blackguard! Would you strike a woman?’ + </p> + <p> + Shea turned on the instant, saw the hand stretched back to fling the + stone. He seized the chair behind him—the very chair which, while an + appearance of politeness was still possible, Mr. O’Rourke had offered to + Augusta Goold—and flung it with all his force at the man with the + stone. One of the legs grazed Hyacinth’s cheek, scraping the skin off. The + corner of the seat struck the man beside him full across the forehead just + above his eyes. The blood poured out, blinding, and then, as he gasped, + choking him. He reeled and huddled together helplessly. He could not fall, + for the pressure of the crowd round him held him up. Hyacinth felt his + hands groping wildly as if for support, and reached out his own to grasp + him. But the man wanted no help for himself. As soon as he felt another + hand touch his he pressed the stone into it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t see,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Take it, you, and kill him, kill + him, kill him! smash his skull!’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth took the stone. The feel of the man’s blood warm on it and the + fierce yelling and stamping of the crowd filled him with a mad lust of + hate against Shea, who stood as if suddenly paralyzed within a few feet of + him. He wrenched his hand free, and with a mighty effort flung the stone. + He saw it strike Shea fair on the forehead. In spite of the tumult around + him, he fancied he heard the dull thud of its impact. He saw Shea fling up + his hands and pitch forward. He saw Augusta Goold gather her skirts in her + hand, and sweep them swiftly aside lest the man should fall on them. Then + the crowd pressing towards the platform swept him off his feet, and he was + tossed helplessly forward. A giddy sickness seized him. The pressure + slackened for an instant, and he fell. Someone’s boot struck him on the + head. He felt without any keen regret that he was likely to be trampled to + death. Then he lost consciousness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Next morning the Dublin daily papers laid themselves out to make the most + of the sensational fight at the Rotunda. Even the habitually cautious <i>Irish + Times</i> felt that the occasion justified the expression of an opinion, + and that there would be no serious risk of alienating the sympathies of + subscribers and advertisers by condemning the bloodshed. It published an + exceedingly dignified and stodgy leading article, drawing the largest and + finest words from the dictionary, and weaving them with extraordinary art + into sentences which would have been creditable to anyone bent upon + imitating the style of Dr. Samuel Johnson. The British Empire and the + whole of civilized Europe were called upon to witness the unspeakably + deplorable consequences which invariably followed the habitual neglect of + the cultivation of the elementary decencies of public life. The paper + disclaimed any sympathy with either of the belligerent parties, and + pointed out with sorrowful solemnity that if the principles sedulously + inculcated upon its readers in its own columns were persistently flouted + and contemned by those who claimed the position of national + representatives, little else except a repetition at frequent intervals of + the painful and humiliating scenes of the night before could possibly be + anticipated by reasonable observers of the general trend of democratic + institutions. The <i>Daily Express</i> openly exulted over the rioters. + Its leading article—the staff may have danced in a ring round the + office table while composing it—declared that now at length the + Irish had proved to the world that they were all, without a solitary + exception, irredeemably vicious corner-boys. Miss Augusta Goold was warmly + praised for having demonstrated once for all that ‘patriotism’ ought to be + written ‘Pat riotism.’ Deep regret was expressed that those who attended + the meeting had not been armed with revolvers instead of stones, and that + the platform had not been defended with Maxim guns instead of + comparatively innocuous wooden chairs. Had modern weapons of precision + been used the <i>Daily Express</i> would have been able to congratulate + mankind on getting rid of quite a considerable number of Irishmen. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Freeman’s Journal</i> and the <i>Daily Independent</i> were + awkwardly situated. Their sympathies were entirely with Mr. O’Rourke, and + they were exceedingly angry with Miss Goold for interfering with the + collection of funds for the Parliamentary party. At the same time, they + felt a difficulty in denouncing her, not for want of suitable language—the + Irish Nationalist press has a superb command of words which a + self-respecting dictionary would hesitate to recognise—but because + they felt that push of the horns of the dilemma on which O’Rourke had been + impaled, and they were obliged to sand their denunciations between layers + of stoutest pro-Boer sentiment. + </p> + <p> + All four papers contained reports of the proceedings which were + practically identical up to a certain point. It was about the commencement + of the actual bloodshed that they differed. The <i>Irish Times</i> + reporter believed that Mr. Shea had begun the fray by striking Augusta + Goold behind the ear with his clenched fist. The <i>Daily Express</i> man + claimed to have overheard Mr. O’Rourke urging his friends to brain a + member of the audience with a chair. The <i>Freeman’s Journal</i> held + that Augusta Goold’s supporters had come into the hall supplied with huge + stones, which, at a given signal, they had flung at the inoffensive + members of Parliament who occupied the platform, adding, as a + corroborative detail, that the lady who accompanied Augusta Goold had + twice kicked the prostrate Mr. Shea in the stomach. The <i>Daily + Independent</i> advanced the ingenious theory that the contest had been + precipitated by a malevolent student of Trinity College, who had flung an + apple of discord—on this occasion a jagged paving-stone of unusual + size—into the midst of a group of ladies and gentlemen who were + peacefully discussing a slight difference of opinion among themselves. + Beyond this point none of the papers gave any account of the proceedings, + all four reporters having recognised that, not being retained as war + correspondents, they were not called upon to risk their lives on the + battlefield. The accounts all closed with the information that the wounded + had been carried to Jervis Street Hospital, and were under treatment + suitable to their injuries. Hyacinth had suffered a slight concussion of + the brain and a flesh wound. Other sufferers were in the same ward, Mr. + Shea himself occupying a bed, so that Hyacinth had the satisfaction of + seeing him stretched out, a melancholy figure, with a bandage concealing + most of his red hair. After the surgeon had finished his rounds for the + morning a police official visited the sufferers, and made a careful note + of their names and addresses. He inquired in a perfunctory manner whether + any of them wished to swear an information. No one, except Mr. Shea, was + sufficiently satisfied with his own share of the meeting to wish for more + fame than was unavoidable. As no further use was ever made of Mr. Shea’s + narrative, it may be presumed that the authorities regarded it as wanting + in accuracy. No blame, however, ought to be attached to the author for any + petty deviation from the truth of which he may have been guilty. No man’s + mind is perfectly clear on the morning after he has been struck on the + head with a stone, and perhaps afterwards kicked twice in the stomach by a + lady journalist. Besides, all members of Parliament are, in virtue of + their office, ‘honourable gentlemen.’ + </p> + <p> + An excited and sympathetic nurse provided Hyacinth with copies of the four + morning papers, which he read with interest and a good deal of amusement. + Only the account in the <i>Daily Independent</i> caused him any + uneasiness. No doubt, as he fully recognised, the suggestion about the + Trinity student was nothing but a wild guess on the part of the reporter. + It was highly unlikely that anyone would seriously consider a theory so + intrinsically improbable. Still, if the faintest suspicion of the part he + had played reached the ears of the college authorities, he felt that his + career as a divinity student was likely to be an extremely brief one. His + chief fear was that a prolonged absence from college would give rise to + inquiry, and that his bandages would excite suspicion when he reappeared. + Fortunately, the house surgeon decided that he was sufficiently recovered + to be allowed to leave the hospital early in the afternoon. The boot which + had put an end to his share in the riot had raised its bruise under his + hair, so he was able to remove the bandages from his head as soon as he + got into the street. There still remained a long strip of plaster meant to + keep a dressing of iodoform in its place over the cut on his cheek which + Mr. Shea’s chair-leg had inflicted. This he could not get off, and + thinking it wiser to make his entry into college after nightfall, he + sought a refuge in Mary O’Dwyer’s rooms. + </p> + <p> + He found the poetess laid on a sofa and clad in a blue dressing-gown. She + stretched a hand of welcome to Hyacinth, and then, before he had time to + take it, began to laugh immoderately. The laughing fit ended in sobs, and + then tears flowed from her eyes, which she mopped convulsively with an + already damp pocket-handkerchief. Before she had recovered sufficient + self-possession to speak, she signed to Hyacinth to fetch a bottle of + smelling-salts from the chimney-piece. He hastened to obey, and found + himself kneeling beside the sofa, holding the bottle to her nose. After a + while she recovered sufficiently to tell him that she had not slept at all + during the night, and felt extremely unwell and quite unstrung in + consequence. Another fit of immoderate and tearful laughter followed, and + Hyacinth, embarrassed and alarmed, fetched a tumbler of soda-water from + the syphon on the sideboard. The lady refused to swallow any, and, just as + he had made up his mind to risk an external application, recovered again. + During the lucid interval which followed she informed him that his own + conduct had been superb and heroic. What seemed to be an effort to + celebrate his achievements in extemporary verse brought on another fit. + Hyacinth determined to risk an appearance in the college square in broad + daylight rather than continue his ministrations. While he was searching + for his hat Miss O’Dwyer became suddenly quite calm, and began to explain + to him how immensely the cause of Ireland’s independence had benefited by + the demonstration in the Rotunda. Hyacinth listened anxiously, waiting for + the next explosion, and experienced very great relief when the door opened + and Augusta Goold walked in. + </p> + <p> + Unlike Mary O’Dwyer, she was entirely mistress of herself. Her cheeks were + not a shade paler than usual, nor her hand at all less cool and firm. She + stretched herself, after her usual fashion, in the largest available chair + and lit a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + ‘You look excited, my dear Mary,’ she said—‘a little overexcited, + perhaps. Have you had tea? No? Perhaps you will be so kind as to ring the + bell, Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Mary O’Dwyer repeated the information she had given Hyacinth about her + sleepless night, and complimented Augusta Goold on her nerve. + </p> + <p> + ‘As for poor little me,’ she went on, ‘I’m like a—like a—you + remember the kind of thing, don’t you?—like a—I’m not sure if + I know the name of the thing myself.’ + </p> + <p> + She relapsed into a weak giggle, and Hyacinth stooped for the bottle of + smelling-salts, which had rolled under the sofa. Augusta Goold was much + less sympathetic. She fixed her with a strong stare of amazement and + disgust. Apparently this treatment was the right one, for the giggling + stopped almost immediately. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see you have got some sticking-plaster on your face, Mr. Conneally,’ + she said, when Mary O’Dwyer had quieted down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and a good-sized bump behind my ear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose this business will be very awkward for you in college. Will + they turn you out?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sure they will if they find out that I threw that stone at Shea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You made a very good shot,’ said Augusta, smiling at the recollection. + ‘But how on earth did you come to have a stone that size in the hall with + you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth told the story of the man who had been felled by the chair and + his murderous bequest. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the proper spirit,’ said Augusta. ‘I admire that man, and he + couldn’t have passed his stone on to better hands than yours. Shea went + down as if he had been shot. I was afraid of my life he would clutch at my + skirts as he fell or squirm up against me after he was down. But he lay + quite still. By the way, Mary, I suppose your dress was ruined?’ + </p> + <p> + Mary O’Dwyer was quite subdued. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was torn,’ she said meekly enough. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you another one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I have. I’ve three others, besides some old ones.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, you’d better go and put on one of them. An old one will do. + It’s disgusting to see a woman slopping about in a dressing-gown at this + time of day. I’ll have tea ready when you come back.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer obeyed sulkily. She wished very much that Augusta Goold had + stopped at home. It would have been a great deal pleasanter to have gone + on practising hysterics with Hyacinth as a sympathetic spectator. When the + door was shut Augusta Goold turned to Hyacinth again. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the worst of women’—apparently she did not consider herself + as one of the sex—‘they are all right at the time (nothing could + have been better than Mary’s behaviour at the meeting), but they collapse + afterwards in such idiotic ways. But I want to talk to you about yourself. + I owe you a good turn for what you did last night. Only for you, I think + Shea would have dared to touch me, and then very likely I should have + killed him, and there might have been trouble afterwards.’ She spoke quite + calmly, but Hyacinth had very little doubt that she meant exactly what she + said. ‘Grealy of course, was useless. One might have expected him to give + utterance to an ancient tribal war-cry, but he didn’t even do that. Tim + Halloran got frightened when the row began. I noticed him dodging about + behind Mary and me, and I mean to let him know what I think about him. + It’s you I have to thank, and I won’t forget it. If you get into trouble + over this business in college, come to me, and I will see you straight. In + fact, if you like to give up the divinity student business at once, I dare + say I can put you in the way of earning an honester livelihood.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was gratified at the way Augusta Goold spoke to him. Since the + evening on which he had given his opinion about the morality of desertion + and murder he had been conscious of a coolness in her manner. Now he had + apparently reinstated himself in her good graces. Praise, even for an act + he was secretly ashamed of, and gratitude, though he by no means + recognised that he deserved it, were pleasant to him. He promised to + remember the offer of help, but declined for the present to commit his + future to the keeping of so bloodthirsty a patroness. + </p> + <p> + Curiously enough, Hyacinth’s reception in college was a great deal more + cordial after the Rotunda meeting than it had ever been before. For a + while the battle which had been fought at their doors superseded the + remoter South African warfare as a topic of conversation among the + students. Their sympathies were with Augusta Goold. Even members of the + divinity classes suffered themselves to be lured from their habitual + worship of respectability so far as to express admiration for the dramatic + picturesqueness of the part she played. It is true that the lady herself + was called by names universally resented by women, and that the broadest + slanders were circulated about her character. Still, a halo of glory hung + round her. It was felt that she had done a surprisingly courageous thing + when she faced Mr. O’Rourke on his own platform. Also, she had behaved + with a certain dignity, neither throwing chairs nor stones at her + opponents. Then, she was an undeniably beautiful woman, a fact which made + its inevitable appeal to the young men. The mere expression of sympathy + with this flamboyant and scandal-smeared heroine brought with it a + delightful flavour of gay and worldly vice. It was pretty well known that + Hyacinth was a friend of Miss Goold’s, and it was rumoured that he had + earned his piece of sticking-plaster in her defence. No one knew exactly + what he had done or how much he had suffered, but a great many men were + anxious to know. Very much to his own surprise, he received a number of + visitors in his rooms. Men who had been the foremost of his tormentors + came, ostensibly to inquire for his health, in reality to glean details of + the fight at the Rotunda. Certain medical students of the kind which glory + in any kind of row openly congratulated him on his luck in being present + on such an occasion. Men who claimed to be fast, and tried to impress + their acquaintances with the belief that they indulged habitually in wild + scenes of revelry, courted Hyacinth, and boasted afterwards of their + second-hand acquaintance with Miss Goold. It became the fashion to be seen + arm-in-arm with him in the quadrangle, and to inquire from him in public + for ‘Finola.’ + </p> + <p> + This new popularity by no means pleased Hyacinth. He was not at all proud + of his share in the Rotunda meeting, and lived in daily dread of being + recognised as the assailant of Mr. Shea. He knew, too, that he was making + no way with the better class of students. The men whose faces he liked + were more than ever shy of making his acquaintance. The sub-lecturers and + minor professors in the divinity school were coldly contemptuous in their + manner, and it seemed to him that even Dr. Henry was less friendly. He + became desperately anxious to get out of a position which he found more + intolerable than the original isolation. He applied himself with extreme + diligence to his studies, even affecting an interest, unnatural for the + most pious, in the expositions given by learned doctors of the Thirty-nine + Articles. At lectures on Church history he made notes about the vagaries + of heretics so assiduously that the professor began to hope that there + existed one student at least who took an interest in the Christological + controversies of the sixth century. He never ventured back again to the + Wednesday prayer-meeting, but he performed many attendances beyond the + required minimum at the college chapel. Morning after morning he dragged + himself from his bed and hurried across the dusky quadrangle to take his + part in the mutilated matins with which the college authorities see fit to + usher in the day. He even went to hear the sermons delivered on Friday + afternoons, homilies so painful that the preachers themselves recognise an + extraordinary merit in enduring them, and allow that submission of the + ears to one of them is to be reckoned as equal to two ordinary acts of + devotion. + </p> + <p> + It is to be hoped that Hyacinth derived some remote benefit from the + discipline to which he subjected himself, for the immediate results were + not satisfactory. He seemed no nearer winning the respect of the more + serious students, and Dr. Henry’s manner showed no signs of softening into + friendliness. His surfeit of theology bred in him a dislike of the + subject. The solemn platitudes which were posed as expositions of the + creeds affected his mind much as the expurgated life histories of maiden + aunts do the newly-emancipated school-girl. The relentless closing in of + argument upon a single previously settled doctrine woke in him a desire to + break through at some point and breathe again in the open. He began to + fear that he was becoming hopelessly irreligious. His morning devotions in + the foggy atmosphere of the chapel did not touch the capacity for + enthusiasm within him. The vague splendour of his father’s meditations had + left him outside, indeed, but sure that within there lay a great reality. + But now religion had come to seem an altogether narrower thing, a fenced + off, well-ordered garden in which useful vegetables might be cultivated, + but very little inspiring to the soul. + </p> + <p> + The unwelcome attention of the students whose friendship he did not + desire, and his increasing dislike for the work he was expected to do, led + him to spend more and more of his time with Augusta Goold and her friends. + He found in their society that note of enthusiasm which he missed in the + religion of the college. He responded warmly to their passionate devotion + to the dream of an independent Irish Republic. He felt less conscious of + his want of religion in their company. With the exception of Augusta Goold + herself, the members of the coterie were professedly Roman Catholics; but + this made little or no difference in their intercourse with him. What he + found in their ideals was a substitute for religion, a space where his + enthusiasm might extend itself. He became, as he realized his own position + clearly, very doubtful whether he ought to continue his college course. It + did not seem likely that he would in the end be able to take Holy Orders, + and to remain in the divinity school without that intention was clearly + foolish. On the other hand, he shrank from inflicting what he knew would + be a painful disappointment on his father. It happened that before the + term ended his connection with the divinity school was cut in a way that + saved him from the responsibility of forming a decision. + </p> + <p> + He was a regular attendant at the lectures of Dr. Spenser, who had never + from the first disguised his dislike and contempt for Hyacinth. This + gentleman was one day explaining to his class the difference between + evidence which leads to a high degree of probability and a demonstration + which produces absolute certainty. The subject was a dry one, and quite + unsuited to Dr. Spenser, whose heart was set on maintaining a reputation + for caustic wit. He cast about for an illustration which would at once + make clear the distinction and enliven his lecture. His eye lit upon + Hyacinth, upon whose cheek there still burned a long red scar. Dr. + Spenser’s face brightened. + </p> + <p> + ‘For instance, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘if I should reason from the fact that + our friend Mr. Conneally affects the society of certain charming ladies of + doubtful reputation, like Miss Goold, to the conclusion that Mr. Conneally + is himself a Nationalist, I should only have arrived at a probable + conclusion. The degree of probability might be very high; still, I should + have no right to regard my conclusion as absolutely certain.’ + </p> + <p> + The class tittered delightedly. Dr. Spenser proceeded without heeding a + deep flush on Hyacinth’s face, which might have warned a wiser man that an + explosion was coming. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I should then proceed to reason thus: All Nationalists are rebels and + potential murderers—Mr. Conneally is a Nationalist; therefore Mr. + Conneally is a rebel and potential murderer—I should, assuming the + truth of my minor premise, have arrived at a certainty.’ + </p> + <p> + The syllogism was greeted with loud applause. Hyacinth started to his + feet. For a time he could only gasp for breath to utter a reply, and Dr. + Spenser, secure in the conviction of his own intellectual and social + superiority to the son of a parson from Connemara, determined to pursue + his prey. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does Mr. Conneally,’ he asked with a simper, ‘propose to impugn the + accuracy of my induction or the logic of my deduction?’ + </p> + <p> + The simper and the number of beautiful long words which Dr. Spenser had + succeeded in collecting together into one sentence provoked a sustained + clapping of hands and stamping of feet from the class. Hyacinth rapidly + regained his self-possession, and was surprised at his own coolness when + he replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘I should say, sir, that a man who makes an induction holding up a lady to + ridicule is probably a cad, and that the cad who makes a deduction + confusing patriotism with murder is certainly a fool.’ + </p> + <p> + A report of Hyacinth’s speech was handed to Dr. Henry, with a suggestion + that expulsion from the divinity school was the only suitable punishment. + Hyacinth did not look forward with any pleasure to the interview to which + he was summoned. He was agreeably surprised when he entered the + professor’s room. Dr. Henry offered him a chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hear,’ he said—his tone was severe, but a barely perceptible + gleam of humorous appreciation flashed across his eyes as he spoke—‘that + you have been exceedingly insolent to Dr. Spenser.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, sir, whether you heard the whole story, but if you did you + will surely recognise that Dr. Spenser was gratuitously insulting to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I recognise that, but the question is, What + am I to do with you now? What would you do if you were in my place? I + should like to know your views of the best way out of the situation.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ Dr. Henry went on, ‘we can’t have our divinity lecturers called + fools and cads before their classes. I should be afraid myself to deliver + a lecture in your presence if I thought I was liable to that kind of + interruption.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think, sir,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that the best thing will be for me to + leave the divinity school.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so, too. But leaving our divinity school need not mean that you + give up the idea of taking Holy Orders. I have a very high opinion of your + abilities, Conneally—so high that I should not like the Church to + lose your services. At the same time, you are not at present the kind of + man whom I could possibly recommend to any Irish Bishop. Your Nationalist + principles are an absolute bar to your working in the Church of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder, sir, how you can call our Church the Church of Ireland, and in + the same breath say that there is no room for a Nationalist in her. Don’t + the two things contradict each other.’ + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry’s eyes twinkled again. There spread over his mouth a smile of + tolerant amusement. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, I’m not going to let you trap me into a discussion of that + question. Theoretically, I have no doubt you would make out an excellent + case. National Church, National spirit, National politics—Irish + Church, Irish nation, Irish ideas. They all go excellently together, don’t + they? And yet the facts are as I state them. A Nationalist clergyman in + the Church of Ireland would be just as impossible as an English + Nonconformist in the Court of Louis Quatorze. After all, in this life one + has got to steer one’s course among facts, and they’re sharp things which + knock holes in the man who disregards them. Now, what I propose to you is + this: Put off your ordination for three years or so. Take up + schoolmastaring. I will undertake to get you a post in an English school. + Your politics won’t matter over there, because no one will in the least + understand what you mean. Work hard, think hard, read hard. Mix with the + bigger world across the Channel. See England and realize what England is + and what her Empire means. Don’t be angry with me for saying that, long + before the three years are over, you’ll have come to see that what you + call patriotism is nothing else than parochialism of a particularly narrow + and uninstructed kind. Then come back here to me, and I’ll arrange for + your ordination. You’ll do the best of good work when you’ve grown up a + bit, and I’ll see you a Bishop before I die.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall always be grateful to you,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I shall never forget + your kindness, and the way you’ve treated me; but I can’t do what you + ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’m not going to take no for an answer,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘Go home to + the West and think it over. Talk to your father about your future. Write + to me if you like about your plans, and remember my offer is open six + months or a year hence. You’ll be the same man then that you are now—I + mean, in character. I’m not afraid of your turning out badly. You may + think wrong-headedly, but I’m sure you’ll not act disgracefully.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + The December afternoon was growing dark when the weary car-horse + surmounted the last hill on the road from Clifden and broke into a + shambling trot down the long straight stretch into Carrowkeel. Soon, as + the distance dwindled, the lights which twinkled here and there in the + village became distinguishable. This—Hyacinth recognised it—was + the great hanging lamp in the window of Rafferty’s shop. That, a softer + glow, came from the forge of Killeen, the smith. That, and that, fainter + and more uncertain lights, were from fires seen through the open upper + section of cottage doors. He could almost tell whose the cabins were where + they shone. The scene inside rose to the imagination. A man with ragged + clothes and a half-empty pipe is squeezed into the stone nook beside the + blazing turf. The kettle, hanging from its hook, swings steaming beside + him. The woman of the house, barefooted, sluttish, in torn crimson + petticoat and gray bodice pinned across her breast, moves the red cinders + from the lid of the pot-oven and peers at the browning cake within. Babies + toddle or crawl over the greasy floor. The car rattled into the village + street. Men whom he knew stopped it to speak to him. Children playing the + last of their games in the fading light paused to stare at him. Father + Moran, returning to his presbytery, waved his hand and shouted a greeting. + He passed the last house of the village, and could see the fishing-boats, + dim and naked-looking, riding at their anchors in the bay. Out beyond + them, grim and terrible in the twilight, lay the hulk where the ice for + fish-packing was stored. The thick stump of her one remaining mast made a + blacker bar against the black sky. The pier was deserted, but he could see + the bulky stacks of fish-boxes piled on it, and hear the water lapping + against it. Along its utmost edge lay a belt of gray white, where the + waves broke as they surged round it. He passed the pier, and there lay + before him the long hill that led home. The church and the ruined school + stood out clearly on the skyline. Below them, less clearly seen, was the + rectory, and Hyacinth noted that the lamp in the kitchen was lit. Then the + door was opened, and he saw, plain against the light, a man’s figure, his + father’s. No doubt the old man was watching and listening. Perhaps the + sound of the wheels reached him through the evening air, for in a few + minutes he came out and walked down the drive. Hyacinth saw him fumble + with the fastening of the rickety gate, and at last open it slowly and + with difficulty. The car reached a gap in the loose stone wall, a familiar + gap, for across it lay a short cut up a steeper part of the hill, which + the road went round. Hyacinth jumped down and ran up the path. In another + minute the greeting of father and son was accomplished, and the two were + walking hand-in-hand towards the house. Hyacinth noticed that his father + trembled, and that his feet stumbled uncertainly among the loose stones + and stiff weeds. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the lighted room he saw that his father seemed older—many + years older—than when he had said good-bye to him two months before. + His skin was very transparent, his lips were tremulous, his eyes, after + the first long look at his son, shifted feebly to the fire, the table, and + the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear son,’ he said, ‘I thank God that I have got you safe home again. + Indeed, it is good to see you again, Hyacinth, for it has been very lonely + while you were away. I have not been able to do very much lately or to go + out to the seashore, as I used to. Perhaps it is only that I have not + cared to. But I have tried hard to get everything ready for your coming.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked round the room with evident pride as he spoke. Hyacinth followed + his gaze, and it was with a sense of deep shame that he found himself + noticing the squalor of his home. The table was stained, and the books + which littered half of it were thick with dust and grease-spotted. The + earthen floor was damp and pitted here and there, so that the chairs stood + perilously among its inequalities. The fine white powder of turf ashes lay + thick upon the dresser. The whitewash above the fireplace was blackened by + the track of the smoke that had blown out of the chimney and climbed up to + the still blacker rafters of the roof. Hyacinth remembered how he, and not + his father, had been accustomed to clean the room and wash the cups and + plates. He wondered how such matters had been managed in his absence, and + a great sense of compassion filled his eyes with tears as he thought of + the painful struggle which the details of life must have brought upon his + father. He noted the evident preparations for his coming. There were two + eggs lying in a saucer ready to be boiled, a fresh loaf—and this was + not the day they got their bread—and a small tin of cocoa beside his + cup. The hearth was piled with glowing turf, and the iron tripod with a + saucepan on it stood surrounded with red coals. Some sense of what + Hyacinth was feeling passed into his father’s mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it all right, my son? I tried to make it very nice for you. I + wanted to get Maggie Cassidy up from the village for the day, but her baby + had the chin-cough, and she couldn’t come.’ + </p> + <p> + He took Hyacinth’s hand and held it while he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it looks poor to you,’ he went on, ‘after your college rooms and + the houses your friends live in; but it’s your own home, son, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made a gulp at the emotion which had brought him near to tears. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s splendid, father—simply splendid. And now I’m going to boil + those two eggs and make the cocoa, and we’ll have a feast. Hallo! you’ve + got some jam—jam and butter and eggs, and this is the month of + December, when there’s hardly a hen laying or a cow milking in the whole + parish!’ + </p> + <p> + He held up the jam-pot as he spoke. It was wrapped in dingy red paper, and + had a mouldy damp stain on one side. Hyacinth recognised the mark, and + remembered that he had seen the identical pot on the upper shelf of + Rafferty’s shop for years. Its label bore an inscription only vaguely + prophetic of the contents—‘Irish Household Jam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right, father, you are supporting home manufacture. I declare I + wouldn’t have tasted it if it had come from England. You see, I’m a + greater patriot than ever.’ + </p> + <p> + Old Mr. Conneally smiled in a feeble, wavering way. He seemed scarcely to + understand what was being said to him, but he found a quiet pleasure in + the sound of his son’s voice. He settled himself in a chair by the + fireside and watched contentedly while Hyacinth put the eggs into the + saucepan, hung the kettle on its hook, and cut slices of bread. Then the + meal was eaten, Hyacinth after his long drive finding a relish even in the + household jam. He plied his father with questions, and heard what the old + man knew of the gossip of the village—how Thady Durkan had broken + his arm, and talked of giving up the fishing; how the police from + Letter-frack had found, or said they found, a whisky-still behind the old + castle; how a Gaelic League organizer had come round persuading the people + to sing and dance at the Galway Féis. + </p> + <p> + After supper Hyacinth nerved himself to tell the story of his term in + college, and his determination to leave the divinity school. More than + once he made an effort to begin, but the old man, who brightened a little + during their meal, relapsed again into dreaminess, and did not seem to be + listening to him. They pulled their chairs near to the fire, and Mr. + Conneally sat holding his son’s hand fast. Sometimes he stroked or patted + it gently, but otherwise he seemed scarcely to recognise that he was not + alone. His eyes were fixed on the fire, but they stared strangely, as if + they saw something afar off, something not in the room at all. There was + no response in them when Hyacinth spoke, and no intelligence. From time to + time his lips moved slightly as if they were forming words, but he said + nothing. After awhile Hyacinth gave up the attempt to tell his story, and + sat silent for so long that in the end he was startled when his father + spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hyacinth, my son, I have somewhat to say unto you.’ Before Hyacinth could + reply to him he continued: ‘And the young man answered and said unto him, + “Say on.” And the old man lifted up his voice and said unto his son, “He + that hath ears to hear, let him hear.”’ + </p> + <p> + He spoke as if he were reading out of a book some narrative from the + Bible. Hyacinth realized suddenly that the communication which was to be + made to him had been rehearsed by his father alone, again and again, that + statement, question and reply, would follow each other in due sequence + from the same lips. He felt that his father was still rehearsing, and had + forgotten the real presence of his son. He grasped the hand that held him + and shook it, saying sharply: + </p> + <p> + ‘Father, father, I am here. Don’t you know me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, my son. Surely I know you. There is something I want to tell + you. I have wanted to tell it to you for many days. I am glad that you are + here now to listen to it.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused, and Hyacinth feared that he would relapse again into dreamy + insensibility; but he did not. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to pray before I speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + He knelt down as Hyacinth had seen him kneel a thousand times before, + facing the eastward-looking window, now a black, uncurtained square in the + whitewashed wall. What he said was almost unintelligible. There was no + petition nor even any sequence of ideas which could be traced. He poured + forth a series of ejaculations expressive of intense and rapturous + delight, very strange to listen to in such a place and from an old man’s + lips. Then the language he spoke changed from English into Gaelic, and + there came a kind of hymn of adoration. His sentences followed each other + in metrical balance like the Latin of the old liturgies, and suited + themselves naturally to a subdued melody, half chant, half cry, like the + mourning of the keeners round a grave. At last, rising from his knees, he + spoke, and his voice became wholly unemotional, devoid of fervour or + excitement. He told his story as a man might relate some quite commonplace + incident of daily life. + </p> + <p> + ‘One evening I was sitting here by the fire, just as I always sit. I + remember that the lamp was not lit, and that the fire was low, so that + there was not much light in the room. It came into my mind that it was + just out of such gloom that the Lord called “Samuel, Samuel,” and I wished + that I was like Samuel, so innocent that I could hear the voice of the + Lord. I do not remember what I thought of after that. Perhaps for a time I + did not think at all. Then I felt that there were arms about my neck; but + not like your arms, Hyacinth, when you were a child and clung to me. These + were arms which held me lovingly, strongly, protectingly, like—do + you remember, Hyacinth?—“His right hand is under my head; His left + hand doth embrace me.” I sat quite still, and did not move or speak or + even breathe, lest He should go away from me. Then, after a long time—I + knew afterwards that the time was long, though then it seemed only a + minute for the joy that I had in it—He told me—I do not mean + that I heard a voice or any words; I did not hear, I <i>felt</i> Him tell + me—the things that are to be. The last great fight, the Armageddon, + draweth very near. All that is good is on one side in the fight, and the + Captain over all. What is bad is on the other side—all kinds of + tyranny and greed and lust. I did not hear these words, but I felt the + things, only without any fear, for round me were the everlasting arms. And + the battlefield is Ireland, our dear Ireland which we love. All these + centuries since the great saints died He has kept Ireland to be His + battlefield. I understood then how our people have been saved from riches + and from power and from the opportunities of lust, that our soil out of + all the world might be fit for the feet of the great Captain, for the + marching of His horsemen and His chariots. Not even when I knew all this + did I desire to share in the conflict. I am old and feeble, but that is + not the reason why there was no desire on me, for strength is in His power + to give to whom He wills. I did not desire it, because I was quite happy, + being safe with Him.’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time after he ceased speaking there was silence, for Hyacinth + had no comment to offer. At last the old man spoke again. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is all. I have no other word of revelation. But I have wondered + since how men are to be disentangled from their parties and their churches + and their nations, and gathered simply into good and bad. Will all men who + are good just know the Captain when they see Him and range themselves with + Him? But why should we think about such things as these? Doubtless He can + order them. But you, Hyacinth—will you be sure to know the good side + from the bad, the Captain from the enemy?’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time after he had gone to bed Hyacinth lay awake haunted by his + father’s prophecy of an Armageddon. There was that in his nature which + responded eagerly to such a call to battle. In the presence of enthusiasm + like his father’s or like Augusta Goold’s, Hyacinth caught fire. His mind + flamed with the idea of an Independent Ireland resplendent with her + ancient glories. He embraced no less eagerly the thought of his father’s + battle and his own part in it. Groping for points of contact between the + two enthusiasms, he caught at the conception of the Roman Church as the + Antichrist and her power in Ireland as the point round which the fight + must rage. Then with a sudden flash he saw, not Rome, but the British + Empire, as the embodiment of the power of darkness. He had learned to + think of it as a force, greedy, materialistic, tyrannous, grossly + hypocritical. What more was required to satisfy the conception of evil + that he sought for? He remembered all that he had ever heard from Augusta + Goold and her friends about the shameless trickery of English statesmen, + about the insatiable greed of the merchants, about the degraded sensuality + of the workers. He recalled the blatant boastfulness with which English + demagogues claimed to be the sole possessors of enlightened consciences, + and the tales of native races exploited, gin-poisoned, and annihilated by + pioneers of civilization advancing with Bibles in their hands. + </p> + <p> + But with all his capacity for enthusiasm there was a strain of weakness in + Hyacinth. More than once after the glories of an Independent Ireland had + been preached to him he had found himself growing suddenly cold and + dejected, smitten by an east wind of common-sense. At the time when he + first recognised the loftiness of his father’s religion he had revolted + against being called upon to adopt so fantastic a creed. So now, when his + mind grew weary with the endeavour to set an Armageddon in array, he began + to wish for a life of peaceful monotony, a place to be quiet in, where no + high calls or imperious demands would come to threaten him. He ceased to + toss to and fro, and gradually sank into a half-conscious sleep. It seemed + to him at the time that he was still awake, held back from slumber by the + great stillness of the country, that silence which disturbs ears long + accustomed to the continuous roar of towns. Suddenly he started into + perfect wakefulness, and felt that he was in possession of all his + faculties. The room where he lay was quite dark, but he strained his eyes + to see something in it. He listened intently, although no sound whatever + met his ears. A great overmastering fear laid hold on him. He tried to + reason with himself, insisting that there was nothing, and could be + nothing, to be afraid of. Still the fear remained. His lips grew stiff and + painfully hot, and when he tried to moisten them his tongue was dry and + moved across them raspingly. He struggled with the terror that paralyzed + him, and by a great effort raised his hand to his forehead. It was damp + and cold, and the hair above it was damp. He had no way of knowing how + much of the night had passed, or even how long he lay rigid, unable to + breathe without a kind of pain; but suddenly as it had come the terror + left him, left him without any effort on his part or any reason that he + recognised. Then the window of his room shook, and he heard outside the + low moan of the rising wind. Some heavy drops of rain struck audibly on + the roof, and the first gust of the storm carried to his ears the sound of + waves beating on the rocks. His senses strained no more. His eyes closed, + and he sank quietly into a long dreamless sleep. + </p> + <p> + It was late when he woke, so late that the winter sky was fully lit. The + wind, whose first gusts had lulled him to sleep, had risen to a gale, and + the rain, mixed with salt spray, beat fiercely against his window and on + the roof. He listened, expecting to hear his father moving in the room + below, but within the house there was no sound. He rose, vaguely anxious, + and without waiting to dress went into the kitchen. Everything lay + untouched, just as he had left it the night before. The lamp and the + remnants of the meal were on the table. The two chairs stood side by side + before the hearth, where the fire which he had covered up smouldered + feebly. He turned and went to his father’s room. He could not have + explained how it was, but when he opened the door he was not surprised to + see the old man lying quite still, dead, upon the bed. His face was turned + upwards, and on it was that strange look of emotionless peace which rests + very often on the faces of the dead. It seemed to Hyacinth quite natural + that the soul as it departed into unknown beatitude should have printed + this for the last expression on the earthly habitation which it left + behind. He neither wondered nor, at first, sorrowed very much to see his + father dead. His sight was undimmed and his hands steady when he closed + the eyes and composed the limbs of the body on the bed. Afterwards it + seemed strange to him that he should have dressed quietly, arranged the + furniture in the kitchen, and blown the fire into a blaze before he went + down into the village to tell his news and seek for help. + </p> + <p> + They buried Æneas Conneally beside his wife in the wind-swept churchyard. + The fishermen carried his coffin into the church and out again to the + grave. Father Moran himself stood by bareheaded while the clergyman from + Clifden read the prayers and sprinkled the coffin-lid with the clay which + symbolized the return of earth to earth and dust to dust. In the presence + of death, and, with the recollection of the simple goodness of the man who + was gone, priest and people alike forgot for an hour the endless strife + between his creed and theirs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + In Connaught the upper middle classes, clergy, doctors, lawyers, police + officers, bank officials, and so forth, are all strangers in the land. + Each of them looks forward to a promotion which will enable him to move to + some more congenial part of Ireland. A Dublin suburb is the ideal + residence; failing that, the next best thing is a country town within easy + reach of the metropolis. Most of them sooner or later achieve a promotion, + but some of them are so unfortunate as to die in their exile. In either + case their furniture and effects are auctioned. No one ever removes his + goods from Connaught, because the cost of getting things to any other + part of Ireland is exorbitant, and also because tables and chairs fetch + very high prices at auctions. Thus it happens that a certain historic + interest attaches to the furniture of most middle-class houses west of the + Shannon. The dispensary doctor dines off a table which once graced the + parlour of a parish priest. The inspector of police boasts of the price he + paid for his easy-chair, recently upholstered, at the auction of a + departing bank manager, the same mahogany frame having once supported the + portly person of an old-time Protestant Archdeacon. It is to be supposed + that the furniture originally imported—no one knows how—into + Connaught must have been of superlative quality. Articles whose pedigree, + so to speak, can be traced for nearly a hundred years are still in daily + use, unimpaired by changes of scene and ownership. + </p> + <p> + An auction of any importance is a public holiday. Clergy, doctors, + lawyers, and police officers gather to the scene, not unlike those beasts + of prey of whom we read that they readily devour the remains of a fallen + member of their own pack. The natives also collect together—publicans + and shopkeepers in search of bargains in china, glass, and house-linen; + farmers bent on purchasing such outdoor property as wheelbarrows, scythes, + or harness. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth, to use the local expression, ‘called an auction’ shortly + after his father’s death, he was favoured with quite the usual crowd of + would-be buyers. Almost everyone with either money or credit within a + radius of twenty miles came into Carrowkeel for the occasion. The + presiding auctioneer had done his duty beforehand by advertising old Mr. + Conneally’s mouldy furniture as ‘magnificently upholstered’ suites, and + his battered editions of the classics as ‘a valuable library of handsomely + bound books.’ It is not likely that anyone was really deceived by these + announcements, or expected to find in the little rectory anything + sumptuous or splendid. The people assembled mainly because they were + exceedingly curious to see the inside of a house whose doors had never + been open to them during the lifetime of the owner. It was always + possible, besides, that though the ‘magnificently upholstered +suites’existed only in the auctioneer’s imagination, treasures of silver spoons + or candlesticks plated upon copper might be discovered among the effects + of a man who lived as queer a life as Mr. Conneally. When men and women + put themselves to a great deal of inconvenience to attend an auction, they + do not like to return empty-handed. A day is more obviously wasted if one + goes home with nothing to show than if one brings a table or a bedstead + purchased at twice its proper value. Thus the bidding at Hyacinth’s + auction was brisk, and the prices such as gave sincere satisfaction to the + auctioneer. Everything was sold except ‘the valuable library.’ It was in + vain that the auctioneer made personal appeals to Father Moran and the + Rector of Clifden, as presumably the two most learned gentlemen present. + Neither of them wanted the venerable classics. In fact, neither of them + could have read a line of the crooked Greek type or construed a page of + the Latin authors. Even the Irish books, in spite of the Gaelic revival, + found no purchasers. When all was over, Hyacinth wheeled them away in + barrowfuls, wondering greatly what he was to do with them. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the disposal of his library was not the chief of his perplexities. + He wondered also what he was to do with himself. When the auctioneer sent + in his cheque, and the London Committee of the Mission had paid over + certain arrears of salary, Hyacinth found himself the possessor of nearly + two hundred pounds. It seemed to him quite a large fortune, amply + sufficient to start life with, if only some suitable way of employing + brains, energy, and money would suggest itself. In order to consider the + important topic at his leisure, he hired the only lodging in Carrowkeel—the + apartment (it was both bed and sitting room) over Mr. Rafferty’s + public-house. The furniture had suffered during the tenancy of a series of + Congested Districts Board officials. An engineer, who went to sleep in the + evenings over the fire, had burnt a round hole in the hearthrug. An + instructor in fish-curing, a hilarious young man, had cracked the mirror + over the mantelpiece, and broken many ornaments, including the fellow of + the large china dog which now mourned its mate on the sideboard. Other + gentlemen had been responsible for dislocating the legs of two chairs and + a disorganization of the handle, which made it impossible to shut the door + from the inside. The chief glory of the apartment, however, still remained—a + handsomely-framed document, signed by Earl Spencer, then Lord Lieutenant, + ordering the arrest of the present Mr. Rafferty’s father as a person + dangerous to the Commonwealth. + </p> + <p> + The first thing which brought Hyacinth’s meditations to a definite point + was a letter he received from Dr. Henry. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know,’ the professor wrote, ‘and of course I do not wish to + inquire, how you are situated financially; but if, as I suppose is likely, + you are obliged in the near future to earn your living, I may perhaps be + of some help to you. You have taken your B.A. degree, and are so far + qualified either to accept a post as a schoolmaster in an English + preparatory school or to seek ordination from some Bishop. As you are + probably aware, none of our Irish Bishops will accept a man who has not + completed his divinity course. Several English Bishops, however, + especially in the northern province, are willing to ordain men who have + nothing more than a University degree, always supposing that they pass the + required examination. I shall be quite willing to give you a letter of + recommendation to one of these Bishops, and I have no doubt that a curacy + could be found for you in one of the northern manufacturing towns, where + you would have an ample sphere for useful work.’ + </p> + <p> + The letter went on to urge the advisability of Hyacinth’s suppressing, + disguising, or modifying his political opinions, which, stated nakedly, + were likely to beget a certain prejudice in the well-balanced episcopal + mind, and in any case would be quite out of place among the operatives of + Yorkshire or Lancashire. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth recognised and appreciated Dr. Henry’s kindness. He even tried to + bring himself to consider the offer seriously and carefully, but it was no + use. He could not conceive himself as likely to be either useful or happy + amid the hustling commercialism of the Manchester streets or the staid + proprieties of an Anglican vicarage. + </p> + <p> + After he had spent about a week in his new lodging, Father Moran called on + him. The priest sat beside the fire for more than an hour chatting in a + desultory manner. He drank tea and smoked, and it was not until he rose to + go that the real object of his visit appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, Mr. Conneally, and maybe I’ve + no right to ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t have the least objection to telling you,’ said Hyacinth, ‘if I + knew myself; but I haven’t my mind made up.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest put down his hat again, and settled himself with his back to + the fire and his hands in his pockets. Hyacinth sat down, and during the + pause which followed contemplated the wonderful number and variety of the + stains on the black waistcoat in front of him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’ve given up the idea of finishing your divinity course?’ said + the priest. ‘I’m not blaming you in the least. There’s men that studying + suits, and there’s men that it doesn’t. I never was much of a one for + books myself.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed heavily, perhaps at the recollection of his own struggles with + the mysteries of theology in his Maynooth student days. Then he walked + over and closed the door, returned, drew a chair close to Hyacinth, and + spoke in the tone of a man who imparts an important secret. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you hear that Thady Durkan’s giving up the fishing? Since he broke + his arm he declares he’ll never step aboard the boat again. You know the + St. Bridget. She’s not one of the biggest boats, but she’s a very lucky + one. She made over five hundred pounds last year, besides the share the + Board took. She was built at Baltimore, and the Board spent over two + hundred pounds on her, nets and gear and all. There’s only one year more + of instalments to pay off the price of her, and Thady has the rest of the + men bought out. There’s nobody owns a stick or a net or a sail of her + except himself, barring, of course, what’s due to the Board.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was sufficiently acquainted with the system on which the + Congested Districts Board provides the Connaught fishermen with boats and + nets to understand Father Moran’s rather involved statement of Durkan’s + financial position. He did not yet grasp why all this information should + have been conveyed to him in such a solemn and mysterious tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘You might have the <i>St. Bridget</i>,’ said the priest, ‘for one hundred + and fifty pounds down.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused to let the full glory of the situation lay hold upon Hyacinth. + Perhaps he expected an outburst of delight and surprise, but none came. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind you,’ he said, ‘there’s others looking for her. The men that worked + with Thady are thinking of making him an offer, and I dare say the Board + would be glad enough to have the boat owned among them; but I can put in a + word myself both with Thady and the inspector. Faith, the times is changed + since I was a young man. I can remember when a priest was no more thought + of than a barefooted gossure out of a bog, and now there isn’t a spalpeen + of a Government inspector but lifts his hat to me in the street. Oh, a + note from me will go a good way with the Board, and you’ll not miss the + chance for want of my good word—I promise you that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind you, there’s a good thing to be made out of her. But sure you know + that as well as I do myself, and maybe better. What do you say now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll think it over,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and whatever comes of it I’ll be + greatly obliged to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, don’t be delaying too long. And look you here’—his voice sank + almost to a whisper—‘don’t be talking about what I’ve said to you. + People are queer, and if Father Joyce down in Clifden came to hear that I + was working for a Protestant he’d be sure to go talking to the Archbishop, + and I’d never get to the end of the fuss that would be made.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, it’s very good of you, especially considering who I am—I + mean, my father being a convert, and——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say no more,’ said the priest—‘say no more. Your father was a good + man, Catholic or Protestant. I’m not one of these bitter kind of priests, + Mr. Conneally. I can be a good Catholic without hating my neighbours. I + don’t hold with all this bullyragging in newspapers about “sourfaces” and + “saved.” Maybe that’s the reason that I’m stuck down here at the other end + of nowhere all my life, and never got promotion or praise. But what do I + care as long as they let me alone to do my work for the people? I’m not + afraid to say it to you, Mr. Conneally, for you won’t want to get me into + trouble, but it’s my belief that there’s many of our priests would rather + have grand churches than contented people. They’re fonder of Rome than + they are of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really, Father Moran,’ said Hyacinth, smiling, ‘if you go on like this, I + shall expect to hear of your turning Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God forbid, Mr. Conneally! I wish you well. I wish you to be here among + us, and to be prosperous; but the dearest wish of my heart for you is that + I might see you back in the Catholic Church, believing the creed of your + forefathers.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest’s suggestion attracted Hyacinth a great deal more than Dr. + Henry’s. He liked the sea and the fishing, and he loved the simple people + among whom he had been brought up. His experiences in Dublin had not + encouraged him to be ambitious. Life in the great world—it was thus + that he thought of the bickerings of the Dublin Nationalists and the + schoolboy enthusiasms of college students—was not a very simple + thing. There was a complexity and a confusion in affairs which made it + difficult to hold to any cause devotedly. It seemed to him, looking back, + that Miss Goold’s ideals—and she had ideals, as he knew—were + somehow vulgarized in their contact with the actual. He had seen something + of the joy she found in her conflict with O’Rourke, and it did not seem to + him to be pure or ennobling. At one time he was on the verge of deciding + to do what the priest wished. Walking day by day along the shore or + through the fields, he came to think that life might very well be spent + without ambitious or extended hopes in quiet toil and unexciting + pleasures. What held him back was the recollection, which never ceased to + haunt him, of his father’s prophecy. The thought of the great fight, + declared to be imminent, stirred in him an emotion so strong that the + peace and monotony he half desired became impossible. He never made it + clear to himself that he either believed or disbelieved the prediction. He + certainly did not expect to see an actual gathering of armed men, or that + Ireland was to be the scene of a battle like those in South Africa. But + there was in him a conviction that Ireland was awakening out of a long + sleep, was stretching her limbs in preparation for activity. He felt the + quiver of a national strenuousness which was already shaking loose the + knots of the old binding-ropes of prejudice and cowardice. It seemed to + him that bone was coming to dry bone, and that sooner or later—very + soon, it was likely—one would breathe on these, and they would live. + That contest should come out of such a renaissance was inevitable. But + what contest? Against whom was the new Ireland to fight, and who was truly + on her side? Here was the puzzle, insoluble but insistent. It would not + let him rest, recurring to his mind with each fresh recollection of his + father’s prophecy. + </p> + <p> + It was while he was wearying himself with this perplexity that he got a + letter from Augusta Goold. It was characteristic of her that she had + written no word of sympathy when she heard of his father’s death, and now, + when a letter did come, it contained no allusion to Hyacinth’s affairs. + She told him with evident delight that she had enlisted no less than ten + recruits for the Boer army. She had collected sufficient money to equip + them and pay their travelling expenses. It was arranged that they were to + proceed to Paris, and there join a body of volunteers organized by a + French officer, a certain Pierre de Villeneuve, about whom Miss Goold was + enthusiastic. She was in communication with an Irishman who seemed likely + to be a suitable captain for her little band, and she wanted Hyacinth back + in Dublin to help her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know,’ she wrote, ‘the people I have round me here. Poor old Grealy + is quite impracticable, though he means well. He talks about nothing but + the Fianna and Finn McCool, and can’t see that my fellows must have riding + lessons, and must be got somehow to understand the mechanism of a rifle. + Tim Halloran has been in a sulk ever since I told him what I thought of + his conduct at the Rotunda. He never comes near me, and Mary O’Dwyer told + me the other day that he called my volunteers a “pack of blackguards.” I + dare say it’s perfectly true, but they’re a finer kind of blackguard than + the sodden loafers the English recruit for their miserable army.’ + </p> + <p> + She went on to describe the series of Boer victories which had come one + after another just at Christmas-time. She was confident that the cause of + freedom and nationality would ultimately triumph, and she foresaw the + intervention of some Continental Power. A great blow would be struck at + the already tottering British Empire, and then—the freedom of + Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt strangely excited as he read her news. The letter seemed the + first clear note of the trumpet summoning him to his father’s Armageddon. + Politics and squabbling at home might be inglorious and degrading, but the + actual war which was being waged in South Africa, the struggle of a people + for existence and liberty, could be nothing but noble. He saw quite + clearly what his own next step was to be, and there was no temptation to + hesitate about it. He would place his money at Miss Goold’s disposal, and + go himself with her ten volunteers to join the brigade of the heroic de + Villeneuve. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + The prospect of joining Augusta Goold’s band of volunteers and going to + South Africa to fight afforded Hyacinth great satisfaction. For two days + he lived in an atmosphere of day-dreams and delightful anticipations. He + had no knowledge whatever of the actual conditions of modern warfare. He + understood vaguely that he would be called upon to endure great hardships. + He liked to think of these, picturing himself bravely cheerful through + long periods of hunger, heat, or cold. He had visions of night watches, of + sudden alarms, of heart-stirring skirmishes, of scouting work, and + stealthy approaches to the enemy’s lines. He thought out the details of + critical interviews with commanding officers in which he with some chosen + comrade volunteered for incredibly dangerous enterprises. He conceived of + himself as wounded, though not fatally, and carried to the rear out of + some bullet-swept firing-line. He was just twenty-three years of age. + Adventure had its fascination, and the world was still a place full of + splendid possibilities. + </p> + <p> + At the end of his two days of dreaming he returned, flushed with his great + purposes, to the realities of life. He went to Father Moran to tell him + that he would not buy Durkan’s boat. He laughed to himself at the thought + of doing such a thing. Was he to spend his life fishing mackerel round the + rocky islands of Connemara, when he might be fighting like one of the + ancient heroes, giving his strength, perhaps his life, for a great cause? + The priest met him at the presbytery door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in, Mr. Conneally—come in and sit down. I was expecting you + these two days. What were you doing at all, walking away there along the + rocks by yourself? The people were beginning to say that you were getting + to be like your poor father, and that nobody’d ever get any good out of + you. But I knew you’d come back to me here. I hope now it’s to tell me + that you’ll buy the boat you’ve come.’ + </p> + <p> + They entered the house, and the priest opened the door of the little + sitting-room. Hyacinth knew it well. There was the dark mahogany table + with the marks burnt into it where hot dishes were set down, the shabby + arm-chair, the worn cocoanut-matting on the floor, the dozen or so books + in the hanging shelf, the tawdry sacred pictures round the wall. He had + known it all, and it all seemed unchanged since he was a child. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit you down—sit you down,’ said the priest. ‘And now about the + boat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not going in for her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I’m as thankful to you for + suggesting it as if I did buy her. I hope you’ll understand that, but I’m + not going to buy her.’ + </p> + <p> + He found it difficult to speak of his new plan to Father Moran. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you tell me that, now? I’m sorry for it. And why wouldn’t you buy her? + What’s there to hinder you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now,’ said the priest, ‘I can guess. I thought the auction turned + out well for you, but I never heard for certain, and maybe you haven’t got + the money for the boat. Whisht now, my son, and let me speak. I’m thinking + the thing might be managed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Father Moran———’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah now, will you be quiet when I bid you? I haven’t the money myself. + Never a penny have I been able to save all my life, with the calls there + are on me in a parish like this. Sure, you know yourself how it is. + There’s one will have a cow that has died on him, and another will be + wanting a lock of potatoes for seed in the springtime; and if it isn’t + that, it’ll be something else. And who would the creatures go to in their + trouble but the old priest that christened and married the most of them? + But, indeed, thanks be to God, things is improving. The fishing brings in + a lot of money to the men, and there’s a better breed of cattle in the + country now, and the pigs fetch a good price since we had the railway to + Clifden, and maybe the last few years I might have saved a little, but I + didn’t. Indeed, I don’t know where it is the money goes at all, but + someway it’s never at rest in my breeches pockets till it’s up and off + somewhere. God forgive us! it’s more careful we ought to be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Father Moran, I don’t——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Arrah then, will you cease your talking for one minute, and let me get a + word in edgeways for your own good? What was I saying? Oh, I was just + after telling you I hadn’t got the money to help you. But maybe I might + manage to get it. The man in the bank in Clifden knows me. I borrowed a + few pounds off him two years ago when the Cassidys’ house and three more + beside it got blown away in the big wind. Father Joyce put his name on the + back of the bill along with my own, and trouble enough I had to get him to + do it, for he said I ought to put an appeal in the newspapers, and I’d get + the money given to me. But I never was one to go begging round the + country. I said I’d rather borrow the money and pay it back like a decent + man. And so I did, every penny of it. And I think the bank will trust me + now, with just your name and mine, more especially as it’s to buy a boat + we want the money. What do you say to that, now?’ He looked at Hyacinth + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Moran, you’re too good to me—you’re too good altogether. + What did ever I do to deserve such kindness from you? But you’re all + wrong. I’ve got plenty of money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t you tell me so at once, and + not keep me standing here twisting my brains into hard knots with thinking + out ways of getting what you don’t want? If you’ve got the money you’ll + buy the boat. What better could you do with it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t want to buy the boat. I don’t want to live here always. I’m + going away out into the world. I want to see things and do things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Out into the world! Will you listen to the boy? Is it America you’re + thinking of? Ah, now, there’s enough gone out and left us lonely here. + Isn’t the best of all the boys and girls going to work for the strangers + in the strange land? and why would you be going after them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not going to America. I’m going to South Africa. I’m going to join + some young Irishmen to fight for the Boers and for freedom.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re going out to fight—to fight for the Boers! What is it that’s + in your head at all, Hyacinth Conneally? Tell me now.’ + </p> + <p> + Again Hyacinth hesitated. Was it possible to give utterance to the + thoughts and hopes which filled his mind? Could he tell anyone about the + furious fancies of the last few days, or of that weird vision of his + father’s which lay at the back of what he felt and dreamed? Could he even + speak of the enthusiasm which moved him to devote himself to the cause of + freedom and a threatened nationality? In the presence of a man of the + world the very effort to express himself would have acted as some + corrosive acid, and stained with patches of absurdity the whole fabric of + his dreams. He looked at Father Moran, and saw the priest’s eyes lit with + sympathy. He knew that he had a listener who would not scoff, who might, + perhaps, even understand. He began to speak, slowly and haltingly at + first, then more rapidly. At last he poured out with breathless, + incoherent speed the strange story of the Armageddon vision, the hopes + that were in him, the fierce enthusiasm, the passionate love for Ireland + which burnt in his soul. He was not conscious of the gaping inconsequences + of his train of emotion. He did not recognise how ridiculous it was to + connect the Boer War with the Apocalyptic battle of the saints, or the + utter impossibility of getting either one or the other into any sort of + relation with the existing condition of Ireland. + </p> + <p> + A casual observer might have supposed that Hyacinth had made a mistake in + telling his story to Father Moran. A smile, threatening actual laughter, + hovered visibly round the priest’s mouth. His eyes had a shrewd, searching + expression, difficult to interpret. Still, he listened to the rhapsody + without interrupting it, till Hyacinth stopped abruptly, smitten with + sudden self-consciousness, terrified of imminent ridicule. Nor were the + priest’s first words reassuring. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t say now, Hyacinth Conneally, but there might be the makings of + a fine man in you yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I might have known,’ said Hyacinth angrily, ‘that you’d laugh at me. I + was a fool to tell you at all. But I’m in earnest about what I’m going to + do. Whatever you may think about the rest, there’s no laughing at that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you’re just wrong then, for I wasn’t laughing nor meaning to laugh + at all. God forbid that I should laugh at you, and I meant it when I said + that there was the makings of a fine man in you. Laugh at you! It’s little + you know me. Listen now, till I tell you something; but don’t you be + repeating it. This must be between you and me, and go no further. I was + very much of your way of thinking myself once.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth gazed at him in astonishment. The thought of Father Moran, + elderly, rotund, kindly; of Father Moran with sugar-stick in his pocket + for the school-children and a quaint jest on his lips for their mothers; + of Father Moran in his ruffled silk hat and shabby black coat and baggy + trousers—of this Father Moran mounted and armed, facing the British + infantry in South Africa, was wholly grotesque. He laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s yourself that has the bad manners to be laughing now,’ said the + priest. ‘But small blame to you if it was out to the Boers I was thinking + of going. The gray goose out there on the road might laugh—and she’s + the solemnest mortal I know—at the notion of me charging along with + maybe a pike in my hand, and the few gray hairs that’s left on the sides + of my head blowing about in the breeze I’d make as I went prancing to and + fro. But that’s not what I meant when I said that once upon a time I was + something of your way of thinking. And sure enough I was, but it’s a long + time ago now.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed, and for a minute or two he said no more. Hyacinth began to + wonder what he meant, and whether the promised confidence would be + forthcoming at all. Then the priest went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘When I was a young man—and it’s hard for you to think it, but I was + a fine young man; never a better lad at the hurling than I was, me that’s + a doddering old soggarth now—when I was a boy, as I’m telling you, + there was a deal of going to and fro in the country and meetings at night, + and drillings too, and plenty of talk of a rising—no less. Little + good came of it that ever I saw, but I’m not blaming the men that was in + it. They were good men, Hyacinth Conneally—men that would have given + the souls out of their bodies for the sake of Ireland. They would, sure, + for they loved Ireland well. But I had my own share in the doings. Of + course, it was before ever there was a word of my being a priest. That + came after. Thanks be to God for His mercies’—the old man crossed + himself reverently—‘He kept me from harm and the sin that might have + been laid on me. But in those days there were great thoughts in me, just + as there are in you to-day. Faith! I’m of opinion that my thoughts were + greater than yours, for I was all for fighting here in Ireland, for the + Poor Old Woman herself, and it’s out to some foreign war you’d be going to + fight for people that’s not friends of yours by so much as one heart’s + drop. Still, the feeling in you is the same as the feeling that was in me, + not a doubt of it. But, indeed, so far as I’m concerned, it’s over and + gone. I haven’t spoken to a mortal soul about such things these thirty + years, and I wouldn’t be doing it now only just to show you that I’m the + last man in Ireland that would laugh at you for what you’ve told me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m glad I told you what’s in my heart,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I’d like to + think I had your blessing with me when I go.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you won’t get it,’ said Father Moran, ‘so I tell you straight. I’ll + give you no blessing when you’re going away out of the country, just when + there’s need of every man in it. I tell you this—and you’ll remember + that I know what I’m talking about—it’s not men that ‘ll fight who + will help Ireland to-day, but men that will work.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Work!’ said Hyacinth—‘work! What work is there for a man like me to + do in Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t I offer you the chance of buying Thady Durkan’s boat? Isn’t there + work enough for any man in her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But that’s not the sort of work I ought to be doing. What good would it + be to anyone but myself? What good would it be to Ireland if I caught + boatloads of mackerel?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be making light of the mackerel, now. He’s a good fish if you get + him fresh, and split him down and fry him with a lump of butter in the + pan. There’s worse fish than the mackerel, as you’ll discover if you go to + South Africa, and find yourself living on a bit of some ancient tough + beast of an ostrich, or whatever it may happen to be that they eat out + there.’ + </p> + <p> + In his exalted mood Hyacinth felt insulted at the praise of the mackerel + and the laughter in the priest’s eyes when he suggested a dinner off + ostrich. He held out his hand, and said good-bye. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait, now—wait,’ said the priest; ‘don’t be in such a tearing + hurry. I’ll talk as serious as you like, and not hurt your feelings, if + you’ll stay for a minute or two. Listen, now. Isn’t the language dying on + the people’s lips? They’re talking the English, more and more of them + every day; and don’t you know as well as I do that when they lose their + Irish they’ll lose half the good that’s in them? What sort will the next + generation of our people be, with their own language gone from them, and + their Irish ways forgotten, and all the old tales and songs and tunes + perished away like the froth of the waves that the storm blew up across + the fields the night your father died? I’ll tell you what they’ll be—just + sham Englishmen. And the Lord knows the real thing is not the best kind of + man in the world, but the copy of an Englishman! sure, that’s the poorest + creature to be found anywhere on the face of God’s good earth. And that’s + what we’ll be, when the Irish is gone from us. Wouldn’t there be work + enough for you to do, now, if you were to buy Thady Durkan’s boat, and + stay here and help to keep the people to the old tongue and the old ways?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth shook his head. His mood was altogether too heroic to allow him + to think highly of what the priest said to him. He loved the Irish + language as his native speech—loved it, too, as a symbol, and + something more, perhaps—as an expression of the nationality of + Ireland. But it did not seem to him to be a very essential thing, and to + spend his life talking it and persuading other people to talk it was an + obscure kind of patriotism which made no strong appeal to him—which, + indeed, could not stand compared to the glory of drawing the sword. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve listened to what I’ve told you, Father Moran, and you say that you + understand what I feel, but I don’t think you really do, or else you + wouldn’t fancy that I could be satisfied to stay here. What is it you ask + of me? To spend my time fishing and talking Irish and dancing jigs. Ah! + it’s well enough I’d like to do it. Don’t think that such a life wouldn’t + be pleasant to me. It would be too pleasant. That’s what’s the matter with + it. It’s a temptation, and not a duty, that you’re setting before me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maybe it is now—maybe it is. And if it’s that way you think of it, + you’re right enough to say no to me. But for all that I understand you + well enough. Who’s this now coming up to the house to see me?’ He went + over to the window and looked out. ‘Isn’t it a queer life a priest lives + in a place like this, with never a minute of quiet peace from morning to + night but somebody will be coming interrupting and destroying it? First + it’s you, Hyacinth Conneally—not that I grudge the time to you when + you’re going off so soon—and now it’s Michael Kavanagh. Indeed, he’s + a decent man too, like yourself. Come in, Michael—come in. Don’t be + standing there pulling at the old door-bell. You know as well as myself + it’s broken these two years. It’s heartbroken the thing is ever since that + congested engineer put up the electric bell for me, and little use that + was, seeing that Biddy O’Halloran—that’s my housekeeper, Mr. + Conneally; you remember her—poured a jug of hot water into its + inside the way it wouldn’t annoy her with ringing so loud. And why the + noise of it vexed her I couldn’t say, for she’s as deaf as a post every + time I speak to her. Ah, you’re there, Michael, are you? Now, what do you + want?’ + </p> + <p> + A young farmer, black-haired, tall and straight, stood in the doorway with + his hat in his hand. He had brought a paper for Father Moran’s signature. + It related to a bull which the Congested Districts Board proposed to lend + to the parish, and of which Kavanagh had been chosen to be custodian. A + long conversation followed, conducted in Irish. The newly-erected + habitation for the animal was discussed; then the best method of bringing + him home from Clifden Station; then the kind of beast he was likely to + turn out to be, and the suitability of particular breeds of cattle to the + coarse, brine-soaked land of Carrowkeel. Kavanagh related a fearful tale + of a lot of ‘foreign’ fowls which had been planted in the neighbourhood by + the Board. They were particularly nice to look at, and settings of their + eggs were eagerly booked long beforehand. Then one by one they sickened + and died. Some people thought they died out of spite, being angered at the + way they had been treated in the train. Kavanagh himself did not think so + badly of them. He was of opinion that their spirits were desolated in them + with the way the rain came through the roof of their house, and that their + feet got sore with walking on the unaccustomed sea-sand. However their + death was to be explained, he hoped that the bull would turn out to be + hardier. Father Moran, on his part, hoped that the roof of the bull’s + house would turn out to be sounder. In the end the paper was signed, and + Kavanagh departed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, there,’ said the priest, ‘is a fine young man. Only for him, I don’t + know how I’d get on in the parish at all. He’s got a head on his + shoulders, and a notion of improving himself and his neighbours, and it + would do you good to see him dance a jig. But why need I tell you that + when you’ve seen him yourself? He is to be the secretary of the Gaelic + League when we get a branch of it started in Carrowkeel. And a good + secretary he’ll make, for his heart will be in the work. I dare say, now, + you’ve heard of the League when you were up in Dublin. Well, you’ll hear + more of it. By the time you’re back here again—— Now, don’t be + saying that you’ll not come back. I’ll give you a year to get sick of + fighting for the Boers, and then there’ll be a hunger on you for the old + place that will bring you back to it in spite of yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, Father Moran. Whatever happens to me, I’ll not forget + Carrowkeel nor you either. You’ve been good to me, and if I don’t take + your advice and stay where I am, it’s not through want of gratitude.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest wrung his hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll come back. It may be after I’m dead and gone, but back you’ll + come. Here or somewhere else in the old country you’ll spend your days + working for Ireland, because you’ll have learnt that working is better + than fighting.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + When Hyacinth got back to Dublin about the middle of February, the streets + were gay with amateur warriors. The fever for volunteering, which laid + hold on the middle classes after the series of regrettable incidents of + the winter, raged violently among the Irish Loyalists. Nowhere were the + recruiting officers more fervently besieged than in Dublin. Youthful + squireens who boasted of being admirable snipe shots, and possessed a + knowledge of all that pertained to horses, struggled with prim youths out + of banks for the privilege of serving as troopers. The sons of plump + graziers in the West made up parties with footmen out of their landlords’ + mansions, and arrived in Dublin hopeful of enlistment. Light-hearted + undergraduates of Trinity, drapers’ assistants of dubious character, and + the crowd of nondescripts whose time is spent in preparing for + examinations which they fail to pass, leaped at the opportunity of winning + glory and perhaps wealth in South Africa. Those who were fortunate enough + to be selected were sent to the Curragh to be broken in to their new + profession. They were clothed, to their own intense delight, in that + peculiar shade of yellow which is supposed to be a help to the soldier in + his efforts not to be shot. Their legs were screwed into putties and + breeches incredibly tight round the knees, which expanded rapidly higher + up, and hung round their hips in voluminous folds. Their jackets were + covered with a multiplicity of quaint little pockets, sewed on in + unexpected places, and each provided with a flap which buttoned over it. + The name of the artist who designed this costume has perished, nor does + there remain any written record of the use which these tightly-secured + pocket-covers were supposed to serve. Augusta Goold suggested that perhaps + they were meant to prevent the troopers’ money from falling out in the + event of any commanding officer ordering his men to receive the enemy + standing on their heads. ‘In the light of the intelligence displayed by + the English Generals up to the present,’ she said, ‘the War Office is + quite right to be prepared for such a thing happening.’ + </p> + <p> + It seemed possible to procure almost any amount of leave from the Curragh, + and the yeomen delighted to spend it in promenading the fashionable + streets of the metropolis. The tea-shops reaped a rich harvest from the + regal way in which they treated their female relatives and friends. + Indeed, their presence must have seriously disorganized the occupations by + which young women earn their living. It was difficult to imagine that the + sick in the hospitals could have been properly looked after, or the + letters of solicitors typewritten, so great was the number of damsels who + attached themselves to these attractive heroes. The philosophic observer + found another curious subject for speculation in the fact that this parade + of military splendour took place in a city whose population sympathized + intensely with the Boer cause, and was accustomed to receive the news of a + British defeat with delight. The Dublin artisan viewed the yeomen much as + the French in Paris must have looked upon the allied troops who entered + their city after Waterloo. The very name by which they were called had an + anti-national sound, and suggested the performance of other amateur + horse-soldiers in Wexford a century earlier. + </p> + <p> + The little band whose writings filled the pages of the <i>Croppy</i> were + more than anyone else enraged at the flaunting of Imperialism in their + streets. They had rejoiced quite openly after Christmas, and called + attention every week in prose and poetry to the moribund condition of the + British Empire, even boasting as if they themselves had borne a part in + its humiliation. They were still in a position to assert that the Boers + were victorious, and that the volunteers were likely to do no more than + exhaust the prison accommodation at Pretoria. They could and did compose + biting jests, but their very bitterness witnessed to a deep + disappointment. It was not possible to deny that the despised English + garrison in Ireland was displaying a wholly unlooked-for spirit. No one + could have expected that West Britons and ‘Seonini’ would have wanted to + fight. Very likely, when the time came, they would run away; but in the + meanwhile here they were, swaggering through the streets of Dublin, + outward and visible signs of a force in the country hostile to the hopes + of the <i>Croppy</i>, a force that some day Republican Ireland would have + to reckon with. + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold herself was more tolerant and more philosophic than her + friends. She looked at the yeomen with a certain admiration. Their + exuberant youthfulness, their strutting, and their obvious belief in + themselves, made a strong appeal to her imagination. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at that young man,’ she said to Hyacinth, pointing out a volunteer + who passed them in the street. ‘I happen to know who he is. In fact, I + knew his people very well indeed at one time, and spent a fortnight with + them once when that young man was a toddler, and sometimes sat on my knee—at + least, he may have sat on my knee. There were a good many children, and at + this distance of time I can’t be certain which of them it was that used to + worry me most during the hour before dinner. The father is a landlord in + the North, and comes of a fine old family. He’s a strong Protestant, and + English, of course, in all his sympathies. Well, a hundred years or so ago + that boy’s great-grandfather was swaggering about these same streets in a + uniform, just as his descendant is doing now. He helped to drag a cannon + into the Phoenix Park one day with a large placard tied over its muzzle—“Our + rights or——” Who do you think he was threatening? Just the + same England that this boy is so keen to fight for to-day!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you are thinking of the volunteer movement of 1780.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Afterwards,’ she went on, ‘he was one of the incorruptibles. You’ll see + his name on Jonah Barrington’s red list. He stood out to the last against + the Union, wouldn’t be bribed, and fought two duels with Castlereagh’s + bravoes. The curious thing is that the present man is quite proud of that + ancestor in a queer, inconsistent sort of way. Says the only mark of + distinction his family can boast of is that they didn’t get a Union + peerage. Strange, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is strange,’ said Hyacinth. ‘The Irish gentry of 1782 were men to be + proud of; yet look at their descendants to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is very sad. Do you know, I sometimes think that Ireland will never + get her freedom till those men take it for her. Almost every struggle that + Ireland ever made was captained by her aristocracy. Think of the + Geraldines and the O’Neills. Think of Sarsfield and the Wild Geese. Think + of the men who wrenched a measure of independence from England in 1782. + Think of Lord Edward and Smith O’Brien. No, we may talk and write and + agitate, but we’ll <i>do</i> nothing till we get the old families with + us.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth laughed. It seemed to him that Miss Goold was deliberately + talking nonsense, rejoicing in a paradox. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are likely to wait, if we wait for them. Look at those.’ He waved his + hand towards a group of yeomen who were chatting at the street corner. + ‘They are going to stamp out a nation in South Africa. Is it likely that + they will create one here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not likely’—she sighed as she spoke—‘yet stranger + things than that have happened. Have you ever considered what the present + English policy in Ireland really is? Do you understand that they are + trying to keep us quiet by bribing the priests? They think that the + Protestants are powerless, or that they will be loyal no matter what + happens. But think: These Protestants have been accustomed for generations + to regard themselves as a superior race. They conceive themselves to have + a natural right to govern. Now they are being snubbed and insulted. There + isn’t an English official from their Lord Lieutenant down but thinks he is + quite safe in ignoring the Protestants, and is only anxious to make + himself agreeable to the priests. That’s the beginning. Very soon they’ll + be bullied as well as snubbed. They will stand a good deal of it, because, + like most strong people, they are very stupid and slow at understanding; + but do you suppose they will always stand it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’re English, and not Irish,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I suppose they like what + their own people do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a lie. They are not English, though they say it themselves. In the + end they will find out that they are Irish. Some day a last insult, a + particularly barefaced robbery, or an intolerable oppression, will awake + them. Then they’ll turn on the people that betrayed them. They will + discover that Ireland—their Ireland—isn’t meant to be a + cabbage-garden for Manchester, nor yet a <i>crêche</i> for sucking + priests. Ah! it will be good to be alive when they find themselves. We + shall be within reach of the freedom of Ireland then.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was amazed at her vehement admiration for the class she was + accustomed to anathematize. He turned her words over and over in his mind. + They recalled, as so many different things seemed to do, his father’s + vision of an Armageddon. Amid the confusion of Irish politics this thought + of a Protestant and aristocratic revolt was strangely attractive; only it + seemed to be wholly impossible. He bewildered himself in the effort to + arrange the pieces of the game into some reasonable order. What was to be + thought of a priesthood who, contrary to all the traditions of their + Church, had nursed a revolution against the rights of property? or of a + people, amazingly quick of apprehension, idealistic of temperament, who + time after time submitted themselves blindfold to the tyranny of a single + leader, worshipped a man, and asked no questions about his policy? How was + he to place an aristocracy who refused to lead, and persisted in whining + about their wrongs to the inattentive shopkeepers of English towns, + gentlemen not wanting in honour and spirit courting a contemptuous + bourgeoisie with ridiculous flatteries? In what reasonable scheme of + things was it possible to place Protestants, blatant in their boasts about + liberty, who hugged subjection to a power which deliberately fostered the + growth of an ecclesiastical tyranny? Where amid this crazy dance of + self-contradictory fanatics and fools was a sane man to find a place on + which to stand? How, above all, was Ireland, a nation, to evolve itself? + </p> + <p> + He turned with relief from these perplexities to the work that lay before + him. However a man might worry and befog himself over the confused issues + of politics, it was at all events a straightforward and simple matter to + fight, and Hyacinth was going to the front as the eleventh Irish + volunteer. + </p> + <p> + To do Miss Goold justice, she had been extremely unwilling to enrol him, + and had refused to take a penny of his money. Her conscience, such as it + was after years of patriotic endeavour, rebelled against committing a + young man whom she really liked to the companionship of the men she had + enlisted and the care of their commander, Captain Albert Quinn. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman, whom she daily expected in Dublin, belonged to County + Mayo. He represented himself as a member of an ancient but impoverished + family, boasted of his military experience, and professed to be profoundly + skilled in all matters relating to horses. Miss Goold’s inquiries elicited + the fact that he held an undefined position under his brother, a + respectable manufacturer of woollen goods. His military experience had + been gathered during the few months he held a commission in the militia + battalion of the Connaught Rangers, an honourable position which he had + resigned because his brother officers persistently misunderstood his + methods of winning money at cards. No one, however, was found to deny that + he really did possess a wonderful knowledge of horses. The worst that Miss + Goold’s correspondents could suggest with regard to this third + qualification was that he knew too much. None of these drawbacks to the + Captain—he had assumed the title when he accepted the command of the + volunteers—weighed with Miss Goold. Indeed, she admitted to Mary + O’Dwyer, in a moment of frankness, that if her men weren’t more or less + blackguards she couldn’t expect them to go out to South Africa. She did + not speak equally plainly to Hyacinth. She recollected that he had + displayed a very inconvenient kind of morality when she first knew him, + and she believed him quite capable of breaking away from her influence + altogether if he discovered the kind of men she was willing to work with. + </p> + <p> + She did her best to persuade him to give up the idea of joining the force, + by pointing out to him that he was quite unfitted for the work that would + have to be done. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know nothing about horses,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever + been on the back of one.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth admitted that this was true. The inhabitants of Carrowkeel rarely + ride their shaggy ponies, and when they do it is sitting sideways just + above the creatures’ tails, with two creels for turf or seaweed in the + place where the saddle ought to be. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I don’t suppose you know much about shooting?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was depressed, for he had never pulled a trigger in his life. In + the West of Ireland a man is not allowed to possess a gun unless a + resident magistrate will certify to his loyalty and harmlessness. + Therefore, the inhabitants of villages like Carrowkeel are debarred from + shooting either snipe or seals, and the British Empire stands secure. + </p> + <p> + The difficulty about his horsemanship Hyacinth endeavoured to get over. He + arranged with a car-driver of his acquaintance to teach him to groom and + harness his horses. The man possessed two quadrupeds, which he described + as ‘the yellow pony’ and ‘the little mare.’ Hyacinth began with the yellow + pony, the oldest and staidest of the two. The little mare, who had a + temper of her own, gave him more trouble. She disliked his way of putting + the crupper under her tail, and one day, to her owner’s great delight, + ‘rose the divil on them’ when her new groom got the shaft of the car stuck + through her collar. + </p> + <p> + The want of experience in shooting was more difficult to get over. Grealy + owned an antiquated army rifle, which he lent to Hyacinth. It was, of + course, entirely different from the Mauser, and it was impossible to get + an opportunity for firing it off. However, there was some comfort to be + found in handling the thing, and taking long and careful aim at a distant + church spire through a window. + </p> + <p> + In the face of such enthusiasm, Miss Goold could not refuse her recruit. + She talked to him freely about her plans, and was eloquent about the + spirit and abilities of M. de Villeneuve, who was to take charge of her + soldiers after they joined him in Paris. On the subject of Captain Quinn + she was much more reticent, and she refused altogether to introduce + Hyacinth to his ten fellow troopers. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s not the least necessity,’ she said, ‘for you to meet them until + the time for starting comes. In fact, I may say it is safer for none of + you to know each other.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth experienced a thrill of agreeable excitement. He felt that he was + engaged in a real conspiracy. + </p> + <p> + ‘For fear of informers?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. One never can be quite sure of anyone. Of course, they can every one + of them give information against me. You can yourself, if you like. But no + one can betray anyone else, and as long as the men are safe, it doesn’t + matter what happens to me.’ + </p> + <p> + It was one of Miss Goold’s weaknesses that she imagined herself to be an + object of hatred and dread to the Government, and nothing irritated her + more than a suspicion that she was not being taken seriously. + </p> + <p> + The first glimpse that Hyacinth got of the character of the men among whom + he was to serve came to him through Tim Halloran. Tim was still sore from + the scolding he had been given for his conduct at the Rotunda meeting, and + missed no opportunity of scoffing—not, of course, publicly, but + among his friends—at Miss Goold and her volunteers. Hyacinth avoided + him as much as possible, but one evening he walked up against him on the + narrow footway at the corner of George’s Street. Halloran was delighted, + and seized him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re the very man I wanted to see,’ he said. ‘Have you heard about + Doherty?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth knew no one called Doherty. He said so, and tried to escape, but + Halloran held him fast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not know Doherty! How’s that? I thought you were in all dear Finola’s + secrets. Faith! I heard you were going out to fight for the Boers + yourself. I didn’t believe it, of course. You wouldn’t be such a fool. But + I thought you’d know that Doherty is one of the ten precious recruits, or, + rather, <i>was</i> one of them.’ He laughed loudly. ‘He’ll fight on the + other side now, if he fights at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ asked Hyacinth uneasily. + </p> + <p> + He was not at all sure what view the authorities in Dublin Castle might + take of recruiting for the Boer service, and Miss Goold’s hints about + informers recurred to his mind alarmingly. Perhaps this Doherty was an + informer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Halloran, ‘I was in one of the police-courts this morning + doing my work for the <i>Evening Star</i>. You know I report the police + news for that rag, don’t you? Well, I do. My column is called “The Doom of + the Disorderly.” Rather a good title that for a column of the kind! There + didn’t appear to be anything particular on, just a few ordinary drunks, + until this fellow Doherty was brought in. I thought I recognised him, and + when I heard his name I was certain of my man. He hadn’t done anything + very bad—assaulted a tram-conductor, or some such trifle—and + would have got off with a fine. However, a military man turned up and + claimed him as a deserter. His real name, it appears, is Johnston. He + deserted six weeks ago from the Dublin Fusiliers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How on earth did he impose on Miss Goold?’ asked Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + Halloran looked at him curiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I shouldn’t say he exactly imposed upon Finola. She’s not precisely a + fool, you know, and she has pretty accurate information about most of the + people she deals with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But surely———’ + </p> + <p> + Halloran shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear fellow, I don’t want to shatter your ideal, but the beautiful + Finola wants to work a revolution, and you can’t do that sort of thing + without soiling your hands. However, whether he imposed on her or not, + there’s no doubt about it that he was a deserter. Why, it appeared that + the fool was tattooed all over the arms and chest, and the military people + had a list of the designs. They had a perfectly plain case, and, indeed, + Doherty made no defence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What will they do with him?’ said Hyacinth, still uneasy about the + possibility of Doherty’s volunteering information. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Halloran. ‘I should think the best punishment would + be to send him out to Ladysmith. I dare say the Boers would pass him in if + the circumstances were explained to them. By the way, it would be rather + funny if he met the other nine out there on a kopje, wouldn’t it? He might + take them prisoners, or they might capture him. Either way the situation + would have its comic possibilities.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Miss Goold lived that part of her life which was not spent at political + meetings or in the office of the <i>Croppy</i> in a villa at Killiney. A + house agent would have described it as a most desirable residence, + standing in its own grounds, overlooking the sea. Its windows opened upon + one of the best of the many beautiful views of Dublin Bay. Its half-acre + of pleasure ground—attended to by a jobbing gardener once a week—was + trim and flowery. Its brown gate shone with frequently renewed paint, and + the drive up to the door was neatly raked. Inside Miss Goold’s wants were + ministered to by an eminently respectable man-servant, his wife who + cooked, and a maid. The married couple were fixtures, and had been with + Miss Goold since she started housekeeping. The maids varied. They never + quarrelled with their mistress, but they found it impossible to live with + their fellow-servants. Mr. and Mrs. Ginty were North of Ireland + Protestants of the severest type. Ginty himself was a strong Orangeman, + and his wife professed and enforced a strict code of morals. It did not in + the least vex Miss Goold to know that her servants’ quarters were + decorated with portraits of the reigning family in gilt frames, or that + King William III. pranced on a white charger above the kitchen range. Nor + had she any objection to her butler invoking a nightly malediction on the + Pope over his tumbler of whisky-and-water. Unfortunately, her maids—the + first three were Roman Catholics—found that their religious + convictions were outraged, and left, after stormy scenes. The red-haired + Protestant from the North who followed them was indifferent to the eternal + destiny of Leo XIII., but declined to be dictated to by Mrs. Ginty about + the conduct of her love affairs. Miss Goold, to whom the quarrel was + referred, pleaded the damsel’s cause, and suggested privately that not + even a policeman—she had a low opinion of the force—could be + swept away from the path of respectability by a passion for so ugly a + girl. Mrs. Ginty pointed out in reply that red hair and freckles were no + safeguard when a flirtation is carried on after dark. There seemed no + answer to this, and the maid returned indignantly to Ballymena. She was + succeeded by an anaemic and wholly incompetent niece of Mrs. Ginty’s, who + lived in such terror of her aunt that peace settled upon the household. + Miss Goold suspected that this girl did little or no work—was, in + fact, wholly unfit for her position; but so long as she herself was made + comfortable, it did not seem to matter who tidied away her clothes or + dusted her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold, in fact, had so far mastered the philosophy of life as to + understand that the only real use of money is to purchase comfort and + freedom from minor worries. She had deliberately cut herself adrift from + the social set to which she belonged by birth and education, and so had + little temptation to spend her substance either in giving parties or + enjoying them. The ladies who flutter round the Lord Lieutenant’s + hospitable court would as soon have thought of calling on a music-hall + danseuse as on Miss Goold. Their husbands, brothers, and sons took + liberties with her reputation in the smoking-rooms of the Kildare Street + Club, and professed to be in possession of private information about her + life which placed her outside the charity of even their tolerant morality. + The little circle of revolutionary politicians who gathered round the <i>Croppy</i> + were not the sort of people who gave dinner-parties; and there is, in + spite of the Gospel precept, a certain awkwardness nowadays in continually + asking people to dinner who cannot afford a retributive invitation. + Occasionally, however, Miss Goold did entertain a few of her friends, and + it was generally admitted among them that she not only provided food and + drink of great excellence, but arranged the appointments of her feasts + luxuriously. + </p> + <p> + On the very day after his interview with Tim Halloran Hyacinth received an + invitation to dinner at the Killiney villa. Captain Quinn, the note + informed him, had arrived in Dublin, and was anxious to make the + acquaintance of his future comrade-in-arms. It seemed to Hyacinth, + thinking over the story of Doherty, unlikely that the whole corps would be + asked to meet their Captain round a dinner-table, but he hoped that some + of them would be there. Their presence would reconcile him to the + awkwardness of not possessing a dress-suit. Grealy, who had occasionally + dined at the villa, warned him that a white shirt-front and black trousers + would certainly be expected of him, and Hyacinth made an unsuccessful + effort to hire garments for the night which would fit him. In the end, + since it seemed absurd to purchase even a second-hand suit for a single + evening, he brushed his Sunday clothes and bought a pair of patent-leather + shoes. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at the platform of Westland Row Station in good time for the + train he meant to catch. He was soon joined by Miss O’Dwyer, who appeared + with her head and neck swathed in a fluffy shawl and the train of a silk + skirt gathered in her hand. The view of several flounces of nebulous white + petticoat confirmed Hyacinth in his conjecture that she was bound for Miss + Goold’s party. No one who could be supposed to be a member of Captain + Quinn’s corps appeared on the platform, and Hyacinth became painfully + conscious of the shortcomings of his costume. He thought that even Miss + O’Dwyer glanced at it with some contempt. He wished that, failing a + dress-suit, he could have imitated the Imperial Yeomen who paraded the + streets, and donned some kind of uniform. His discomfort reached a climax + when Ginty received them at the door, passed Miss O’Dwyer on to the + incompetent niece, and solemnly extracted the new shoes from their + brown-paper parcel. + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold stood chatting to Captain Quinn when Hyacinth entered the + drawing-room. She moved forward to meet him, radiant and splendid, he + thought, beyond imagination. The rustle of her draperies, the faint scent + that hung around her, and the glitter of the stones on her throat, + bewildered him. + </p> + <p> + It was not till after he had been presented to his commander that he was + able to take his eyes off her. Then, in spite of his embarrassment, he + experienced surprise and disappointment. He had formed no clear idea of + what he expected Captain Quinn to be like, but he had a vague mental + picture of a furiously-moustachioed swashbuckler, a man of immense power + and hirsute hands. Instead, there stood before him a slim, small man, + clean shaved, with shiny black hair smoothly brushed. His clothes were so + well cut and his linen so glossy that he seemed fittingly placed even + beside the magnificent Finola. His hand, when Hyacinth shook it, seemed + absurdly small, and his feet, in their neat pumps, were more like a + woman’s than a man’s. Then, when he turned to resume his conversation with + his hostess, Hyacinth was able to watch his face. He noticed the man’s + eyes. They were small and quick, like a bird’s, and shifted rapidly, never + resting long on any object. His mouth was seldom closed, and the lips, + like the eyes, moved incessantly, though very slightly. There were strange + lines about the cheeks and jaws, which somehow suggested that the man had + seen a good deal of the evil of the world, and not altogether unwillingly. + His voice was wonderfully soft and clear, and he spoke without a trace of + any provincial accent. + </p> + <p> + During dinner Captain Quinn took the largest share in the conversation. It + appeared that he was a man of considerable knowledge of the world. He had + been a sailor in his time, and had made two voyages to Melbourne as + apprentice in a large sailing-ship. His stories were interesting and + humorously told; though they all dealt with experiences of his own, he + never allowed himself to figure as anything of a hero. He recounted, for + instance, how one night in Melbourne Docks he had run from a half-drunken + Swede, armed with a knife, and had spent hours dodging round the deck of a + ship and calling for help before he could get his assailant arrested. His + career as an officer in the mercantile navy was cut short by a period of + imprisonment in a small town in Madagascar. He did not specify his + offence, but gave a vivid account of life in the gaol. + </p> + <p> + ‘There were twenty of us altogether,’ he said—‘nineteen niggers and + myself. There was no nonsense about discipline or work. We just sat about + all day in an open courtyard, with nothing but a big iron gate between us + and liberty. All the same, there was very little chance of escape. There + were always four black soldiers on guard, truculent scoundrels with curly + swords. A sort of missionary man got wind of my being there, and used to + come and visit me. One day he gave me a tract called “Gideon.” I read the + thing because I had absolutely nothing else to read. In the end it turned + out an extremely useful tract, for it occurred to me that the old plan for + defeating the Midianites might work with the four black soldiers. I + organized the other prisoners, and divided them into three bands. We raked + up a pretty fair substitute for pitchers and lamps. Then one night we + played off the stratagem, and flurried the sentries to such an extent that + I got clear away. I rather fancy one or two others got off, too, but I + don’t know. I got into a rather disagreeable tramp steamer, and + volunteered as stoker. It’s so difficult to get stokers in the tropics + that the captain took his risks and kept me. I must say I was sorry + afterwards that I hadn’t stayed in the gaol.’ + </p> + <p> + The story was properly appreciated by the audience, and Hyacinth began to + feel a liking for the Captain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know,’ said Miss Goold, when their laughter had subsided, ‘I + believe I know that identical tract. I once had an evangelical aunt, a + dear old lady who went about her house with a bunch of keys in a small + basket. She used to give me religious literature. I never was reduced to + reading it, but I distinctly remember a picture of Gideon with his mouth + open waving a torch on the front page. Could it have been the same?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It must have been,’ said the Captain. ‘Mine had that picture, too. Gideon + had nothing on but a sort of nightshirt with a belt to it, and only one + sleeve. By the way, if you are up in tracts, perhaps you know one called + “The Rock of Horeb “?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well,’ said the Captain, after appealing to Mary O’Dwyer and + Hyacinth, ‘it can’t be helped, but I must say I should like to meet + someone who had read “The Rock of Horeb.” I once sailed from Peru in an + exceedingly ill-found little barque loaded with guano. We had a very dull + time going through the tropics, and absolutely the only thing to read on + board was the first half of “The Rock of Horeb.” There were at least two + pages missing. I read it until I nearly knew it off by heart, and ever + since I’ve been trying to get a complete copy to see how it ended.’ + </p> + <p> + Some of his stories dealt with more civilized life. He delighted Miss + Goold with an account, not at all unfriendly, of the humours of the third + battalion of the Connaught Rangers. He quoted one of Mary O’Dwyer’s poems + to her, and pleased Hyacinth by his enthusiastic admiration of the + Connemara scenery. Good food, good wine, and a companion like Captain + Quinn, gladden the heart, and the little party was very merry when Ginty + deposited coffee and cigarettes and finally departed. + </p> + <p> + In Miss Goold’s house it was not the custom for the ladies to desert the + dinner-table by themselves. Very often the hostess was the only lady + present, and she had the greatest dislike to leaving a conversation just + when it was likely to become really interesting. Moreover, Miss Goold + smoked, not because it was a smart or emancipated thing to do, but because + she liked it, and—a curious note of femininity about her—she + objected to her drawing-room smelling of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + When Ginty had disappeared, and the serious business of enjoying the food + was completed, the talk of the party turned on the South African campaign + and the prospects of the Irish volunteers. Captain Quinn displayed a + considerable knowledge of the operations both of the Boers and the British + Generals. For the latter he expressed what appeared to Hyacinth to be an + exaggerated contempt, but the two ladies listened to it with evident + enjoyment. He delighted Miss Goold by his extreme eagerness to be off. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see,’ he said, ‘why we shouldn’t start to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question,’ said Augusta Goold. ‘M. de + Villeneuve arranged to send me a wire when he was ready for our men, and I + can’t well send them sooner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said the Captain, ‘but it seems to me the Frenchman is inclined to + dawdle. Don’t you think that if we went over it might hurry him up a bit?’ + </p> + <p> + She agreed that this was possible, but represented the difficulty of + keeping the men suitably employed in Paris for perhaps three weeks or a + month. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ she said, ‘they are all right here in Dublin, where I can keep + an eye on them. Besides, they have all got some sort of employment here, + and I don’t have to pay them. I haven’t got money enough to keep them in + Paris, and they won’t get anything from Dr. Leyds until you have them on + board the steamer.’ + </p> + <p> + Captain Quinn seemed satisfied, but later on in the evening he returned to + the subject. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t help feeling that it would be better for me, at all events, to go + over to Paris at once. I shouldn’t ask to draw any pay at present. I have + enough by me to keep me going for a few weeks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what about the men? Will you come back for them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I think that would be foolish and unnecessary. There is no use in + attracting attention to our movements. We can’t have a public send-off, + with cheers and that sort of thing, in any case, or march through the + streets like those ridiculous yeomen. Our fellows have got to slip away + quietly in twos and threes. We can’t tell whether we’re not being watched + this minute.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a note of sincerity in the Captain’s voice which convinced + Hyacinth that he was genuinely frightened at the thought of having a + policeman on his track. Miss Goold, too, looked appropriately solemn at + the suggestion. As a matter of fact, the authorities in Dublin Castle did + occasionally send a detective in plain clothes to walk after her. It is + not conceivable that they suspected her of wanting to blow up Nelson’s + pillar or assassinate a judge. Probably they merely wished to exercise the + members of the force, and, in the absence of any actual crime in the + country, felt that no harm could come to anyone through the ‘shadowing’ of + Miss Goold. The plan, though the authorities probably did not consider + this, had the incidental advantage of gratifying the lady herself. She was + perfectly acquainted with most of the officers who were put on her track, + and was always in good spirits when she recognised one of them waiting for + her in Westland Row Station. Captain Quinn kept a watch on her face with + his sharp shifting eyes while he spoke, and he was quick to realize that + he had hit on a way of flattering her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a person, Miss Goold, of whose actions the Government is bound to + take cognisance. I dare say they have their suspicions of me, and if you + and I are seen together in Dublin during the next week or two there will + certainly be inquiries; whereas, if I go over to Paris at once, there will + be no reason to watch you or anybody else.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you say, Mr. Conneally?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was puzzled at this extreme eagerness to be off. A suspicion + crossed his mind that the Captain meditated some kind of treachery. He + made what appeared to him to be a brilliant suggestion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me go with Captain Quinn. I can start to-morrow if necessary. I + should like to see something of Paris; and you know, Miss Goold, I’ve + plenty of money.’ + </p> + <p> + He thought it likely that the Captain would object to this plan. If he + meditated any kind of crooked dealing when he got to Paris, though + Hyacinth failed to see any motive for treachery, he would not want to be + saddled with a companion. The answer he received surprised him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Delightful! I shall be glad to have a friend with me. In the intervals of + military preparation we can have a gay time—not too gay, of course, + Miss Goold. I shall keep Mr. Conneally out of serious mischief. When we + have a little spare cash we may as well enjoy ourselves. We shan’t want to + carry money about with us in the Transvaal. We mean to live at the expense + of the English out there.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold smiled almost maternally at Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy,’ she said, ‘what seems plenty of money to you won’t go very + far in Paris. What is it? Let me see, you said two hundred pounds, and you + want to buy your outfit out of that. Keep a little by you in case of + accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the Captain, ‘that’s settled. And if we are really to start + to-morrow, we ought to get home to-night. Mr. Conneally may be ready to + start at a moment’s notice, but he must at least pack up his tooth-brush. + May we see you safe back to town, Miss O’Dwyer? Remember, we shall expect + a valedictory ode in the next number of the <i>Croppy</i>. Write us + something that will go to a tune, something with a swing in it, and we’ll + sing it beside the camp fires on the veldt. Miss Goold’—he held out + his hand as he spoke—‘I’m a plain fellow’—he did not look in + the least as if he thought so—‘I’ve led too rough a life to be any + good at making pretty speeches, but I’m glad I’ve seen you and talked to + you. If I’m knocked on the head out there I shall go under satisfied, for + I’ve met a woman fit to be a queen—a woman who is a queen, the queen + of the heart of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + It is likely that Augusta Goold, though she was certainly not a fool, was + a little excited by the homage, for she refused to say good-bye, declaring + that she would see the boat off next morning. It was a promise which would + cost her something to keep, for the mail steamer leaves at 8 a.m., and + Miss Goold was a lady who appreciated the warmth of her bed in the + mornings, especially during the early days of March, when the wind is + likely to be in the east. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Captain Quinn made himself very agreeable to Mary O’Dwyer during the short + journey back to Dublin. At Westland Row he saw her into a cab, which he + paid for. His last words were a reminder that he would expect to have her + war-song, music and all, sent after him to Paris. Then he turned to + Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all right. We’ve done with her. It was better to pay the cab for + her, else she might have scrupled about taking one, and we should have + been obliged to go home with her in a beastly tram. Come along. I’m + staying at the Gresham. It’s always as well to go to a decent place if you + have any money. You come with me, and we’ll have a drink and a talk.’ + </p> + <p> + There were two priests and a Bishop in earnest conference round the fire + in the hall of the hotel when they entered. When he discovered that their + talk was of the iniquities of the National Board of Education, and + therefore likely to last beyond midnight, Captain Quinn led the way into + the smoking-room, which was unoccupied. A sufficient supply of whisky and + a syphon of soda-water were set before them. The Captain stretched himself + in a comfortable chair, and lit his pipe. + </p> + <p> + ‘A fine woman, Miss Goold,’ he said meditatively. Hyacinth murmured an + assent. + </p> + <p> + ‘A very fine woman, and apparently pretty comfortably off. I wonder why on + earth she does it.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at Hyacinth as if he expected some sort of explanation to be + forthcoming. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does what?’ asked Hyacinth at length. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, all this revolutionary business: the <i>Croppy</i>, seditious + speeches, and now this rot about helping the Boers. What does she stand to + gain by it? I don’t suppose there’s any money in the business, and a woman + like that might get all the notoriety she wants in her own proper set, + without stumping the country and talking rot.’ + </p> + <p> + This way of looking at Augusta Goold’s patriotism was new to Hyacinth, and + he resented it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose she believes in the principles she professes,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + The Captain looked at him curiously, and then took a drink of his + whisky-and-soda. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s suppose she does. After all, her motives are + nothing to us, and she’s a damned fine woman, whatever she does it for.’ + </p> + <p> + He drank again. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would have been very pleasant, now, if she would have spent the next + few weeks with me in Paris. You won’t mind my saying that I’d rather have + had her than you, Conneally, as a companion in a little burst. However, I + saw at once that it wouldn’t do. Anyone with an eye in his head could tell + at a glance that she wasn’t that sort.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed. Hyacinth was not quite sure that he understood. The suggestion + was so calmly made and reasoned on that it seemed impossible that it could + be as iniquitous as it appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no one such an utter fool about women,’ went on the Captain, ‘as + your respectable married man, who never does anything wrong himself. I’d + heard of Miss Goold, as everybody has, and listened to discussions about + her character. You know just as well as I do the sort of things they say + about her.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth did know very well, and flared up in defence of his patroness. + </p> + <p> + ‘They are vile lies.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s just what I’m saying. Those respectable people who tell the lies + are such fools. They think that every woman who doesn’t mew about at + afternoon parties must be a bad one. Now, anyone with a little experience + would know at once that Miss Goold—what’s this the other one called + her? Oh yes, Finola—that Finola may be a fool, but she’s not <i>that</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + He pulled himself together as he spoke. Evidently he plumed himself, on + his experience and the faculty for judging it had brought him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I’d just as soon have asked my sister-in-law to come to Paris with + me for a fortnight as Finola. You don’t know Mrs. James Quinn, I think. + That’s a pity. She’s the most domesticated and virtuous <i>haus-frau</i> + in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused, and then asked Hyacinth, ‘Why are you doing it?’ + </p> + <p> + Again Hyacinth was reduced by sheer surprise to a futility. + </p> + <p> + ‘Doing what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, going out to fight for the Boers. Now, don’t, like a good fellow, say + you’re acting on principle. It’s all well enough to give Finola credit for + that kind of thing. She is, as we agreed, a splendid woman. But you + mustn’t ask me to believe in the whole corps in the same way.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth meditated a reply. It was clearly impossible to assert that he + wanted to fight for liberty, to give his life to the cause of an oppressed + nationality. It would be utterly absurd to tell the story of his father’s + vision, and say that he looked on the South African War as a skirmish + preliminary to the Armageddon. Sitting opposite to this cynical man of the + world and listening to his talk, Hyacinth came himself to disbelieve in + principle. He felt that there must be some baser motive at the bottom of + his desire to fight, only, for the life of him, he could not remember what + it was. He could not even imagine a good reason—good in the + estimation of his companion—why anyone should do so foolish a thing + as go out to the Transvaal. The Captain was not at all impatient. He sat + smoking quietly, until there seemed no prospect of Hyacinth answering; + then he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, if you don’t want to tell me, I don’t mind. Only I think you’re + foolish. You see, little accidents happen in these affairs. There are such + things as bullets, and one of them might hit you somewhere that would + matter. Then it would be my duty to send home your last words to your + sorrowing relatives, and it would be easier to do that if I knew exactly + what you had done. The death-bed repentance of the prodigal is always most + consoling to the elder brother—much more consoling, in fact, than + the prodigal’s return. Now, how the deuce am I to make up a plausible + repentance for you, if I don’t know what you’ve done?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I’ve not done anything,’ said Hyacinth ineffectively. + </p> + <p> + The Captain ignored him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, now, it can’t be anything very bad at your age. Have you got into a + mess with a girl? Or’—he brightened up at the guess—‘are you + hopelessly enamoured of the beautiful Finola? That would be most suitable. + The bold, bad woman sends the minstrel boy to his death, with his wild + harp slung behind him. I could draw tears from the stoniest-hearted elder + brother over that.’ + </p> + <p> + If he could have thought of a crime at the moment, Hyacinth would probably + have confessed it; but he was bewildered, and could hit on nothing better + than: + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no elder brother—in fact, no relation of any sort.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucky man! Now, I have a perfect specimen of a brother—James Quinn, + Esquire, of Ballymoy. He’s a churchwarden. Think of that! If it should be + your melancholy duty to send the message home to him—in case that + bullet hits me, I mean—tell him——— Oh, there’s no + false pride about me. Fill your glass again. I don’t in the least mind + your knowing that I wouldn’t go a step to fight for Boer or Briton either + if it wasn’t for a little affair connected with some horses and a cheque. + You see, the War Office people sent down a perfect idiot to buy remounts + for the cavalry in Galway and Mayo. He was the sort of idiot that would + tempt an Archbishop to swindle him. I rather overdid it, I’m afraid, and + now the matter is likely to come out.’ + </p> + <p> + For all his boasted powers of observation, Captain Quinn failed to notice + the disgust and alarm on Hyacinth’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘I stuck the fool,’ he went on, ‘with every old screw in the country. I + got broken-winded mares from the ploughs. I collected a regular hospital + of spavined, knock-kneed beasts, and he took them from me without a word + at thirty pounds apiece. It would have been all right if I had gone no + further. But, hang it all! I got to the end of my tether. I declare to you + I don’t believe there was another screw left in the whole county of Mayo, + and unless I took to selling him the asses I couldn’t go on. Then I heard + of this plan of your friend Finola’s, and I determined to make a little + coup and clear. I altered a cheque. The idiot was on his way to an + out-of-the-way corner of Connemara looking for mounted infantry cobs. I + knew he wouldn’t see his bank-book for at least a week, so I chanced it. + That’s the reason why I am so uncommonly anxious to get clear at once. If + I once get off, it will be next door to impossible to get me back again. + General Joubert will hardly give me up. I’m not the least afraid of those + ridiculous policemen who walk about after Finola. But I am very much + afraid of being tapped on the shoulder for reasons quite non-political. I + can tell you I’ve been on the jump ever since yesterday, when I cashed the + cheque, and I shan’t feel easy till I’ve left France behind me. I fancy + I’m safe for the present. The idiot is sure to try fifty ways of getting + his accounts straight before he lights on my little cheque; and when he + does, I’ve covered my tracks pretty well. My dear brother hasn’t the + slightest notion what’s become of me. I dare say he’ll stop making + inquiries as soon as the police begin. Poor old chap! He’ll feel it about + the family name, and so on.’ + </p> + <p> + He smiled at his own reflection in the mirror over the chimneypiece. He + was evidently well satisfied with the performance he had narrated. Then at + last Hyacinth found himself able to speak. Again, as when he had defeated + Dr. Spenser in the college lecture-room, his own coolness surprised him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re an infernal blackguard!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Captain Quinn looked at him with a surprise that was perfectly genuine. He + doubted if he could have heard correctly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did you say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I said,’ repeated Hyacinth, ‘you are an infernal blackguard!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you really suppose that I would be going on this fool of an + expedition if I wasn’t?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall tell Miss Goold the story you have just told me. I shall tell her + to-morrow morning before the boat sails.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said the Captain; ‘but don’t suppose for a moment that you’ll + shock Finola. She doesn’t know this particular story about me, but I + expect she knows another every bit as bad, and I dare say she will regard + the whole thing as a justifiable spoiling of the Egyptians. By the way ‘—there + was a note of anxiety in his voice—‘I hope you won’t find it + necessary to repeat anything I’ve said about the lady herself. <i>That</i> + might irritate her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it likely,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I would repeat that kind of talk to + any woman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so. I admire your attitude. Such things are entirely unfit for + repetition. But seriously, now, what on earth do you expect to happen when + you tell her? I’m perfectly certain that every single volunteer she’s got + is just as great a blackguard—your word, my dear fellow—as I + am, and Finola knows it perfectly well.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. The phrase in Miss Goold’s letter in which she had + originally described her men as blackguards recurred to his mind. He + remembered the story of Doherty. His anger began to give way to a sick + feeling of disgust. + </p> + <p> + ‘Think, now,’ said the Captain: ‘is it likely that you could enlist a + corps of Sunday-school teachers for this kind of work? I’ll give you + credit for the highest motives, though I’m blest if I understand them; but + how can you suppose that there is anyone else in the whole world that + feels the way you feel or wants to act as you are doing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I dare say you are right,’ said Hyacinth feebly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I’m right—perfectly right.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth tried to lift his glass of whisky-and-water to his lips, but his + hand trembled, and he was obliged to put it down. Captain Quinn watched + him wipe the spilt liquid off his hand, and then settle down in his chair + with his head bowed and his eyes half shut. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit up, man,’ he said. ‘It’s all right. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed + of, at all events. But look here, you ought not to come with us at all. + It’s no job for a man like you. You back out of it. Don’t turn up + to-morrow morning. I’ll explain to Finola if she’s there, and if not I’ll + write her a letter that will set you straight with her. I’m really sorry + for you, Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked up at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry I called you a blackguard,’ he said. ‘You’re not any worse than + everyone else in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘Don’t take it like that. From your point + of view you were quite right to call me a blackguard. And, mind you, there + are plenty of people in the world who aren’t blackguards. There’s my + brother, for instance. He’s a bit of a prig—in fact, he’s as + priggish as he well can be—but he’s never done anything but run + straight. I don’t suppose he could go crooked if he tried.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth got up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-night,’ he said, ‘and good-bye. I shan’t go with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a minute,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘I think I’ve done you one good turn + to-night in stopping you going to South Africa. Now I’ll do you another, + and one at the same time to that brother of mine. I left him in a hurry. I + told you that, but I don’t think I mentioned that I was in his employment. + He runs a woollen factory down in Mayo. I owned a share in the business + once, but that went long ago, and the whole thing belongs to James now. I + was a sort of clerk and general agent. I wasn’t really the least use, for + I never did any work. James was for ever complaining, but I’m bound to say + he stuck to me. I’ll give you a letter to him, and I dare say you may get + the job that I’ve chucked. It’s not much of a thing, but it may suit you + for a while. Sit down till I write my letter.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth obeyed. Since his anger evaporated a sort of numbness had crept + over his mind. He scarcely understood what was said to him. He had a vague + feeling of gratitude towards Captain Quinn, and at the same time a great + desire to get away and be alone. He felt that he required to adjust his + mind to the new thoughts which had been crowded into it. When he received + the letter he put it into his pocket, and rose again to go. The Captain + saw him to the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye.’ Hyacinth heard him, but his voice seemed far off, and his + words meaningless. ‘Take my advice and run down to Ballymoy at once. Don’t + hang about Finola any more. She’s a splendid woman, but she’s not for you. + If you married her you’d be perfectly miserable. Not that I think she’d + ever marry you. Still, she might. Women do such odd things. If by any + chance she does, you’ll have to be very careful. Give her her head, and + take her easy up to the jumps. Don’t try to hustle her, and for God’s sake + don’t begin sawing at her mouth. I’d very much like to be here to see you + in the character of Mr. Augusta Goold.’ He sighed. ‘But, of course, I + can’t. The British Isles will be too hot for me for a while. However, who + can tell what might happen if I win a good medal from old Kruger, and + capture a few British Generals? I might act best man for you yet, if + you’ll wait a year or two.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth got home to his lodgings the first object that met his eye + was Grealy’s ancient rifle. He tied a label round its barrel addressed to + the owner. Then he packed his few belongings carefully and strapped his + bag. So far he was sure of himself. He had no doubt whatever that he must + leave Dublin at once. He felt that he could not endure an interview with + Augusta Goold. She might blame him or might pity him. Either would be + intolerable. She might even justify herself to him, might beat him into + submission by sheer force of her beauty and her passion, as she had done + once before. He would run no such risk. He felt that he could not + sacrifice his sense of right and wrong, could not allow himself to be + dragged into the moral chaos in which, it seemed to him now, Miss Goold + lived. He was unconscious of any Divine leading, or even of any direct + reliance on the obligations of honour. He could not himself have told why + he clung with such desperate terror to his plan of escaping from his + surroundings. Simply he could not do certain things or associate as a + friend with people who did them. To get away from Dublin was the first + necessity. For a moment it occurred to him that he might go to Dr. Henry, + tell him the whole story, and ask for advice and help. But that was + impossible. How could he confess the degradation of his ideal? How could + he resist the inevitable reminder that he had been warned beforehand? + Besides, not even now, after all that he had seen, could he accept Dr. + Henry’s point of view. He still believed in Ireland, still hoped to serve + her, still looked for the coming of his father’s captain to lead the + saints to the final victory. Miss Goold had failed him, but he was not yet + ready to enrol himself a citizen of England. + </p> + <p> + No, he must leave Dublin. But where to go? His lamp burnt dim and expired + as he sat thinking. His fire had long ago gone out. He shivered with cold + and misery, while the faint light of the dawn stole into his room. He + heard the first twitter of the birds in the convent garden behind his + lodging. Then came the noise of the earliest traffic, the unnaturally loud + rattle of the dust-carts on their rounds. A steamer hooted far away down + the river, and an early bell rang the neighbouring nuns to prayer. + Hyacinth grew desperate. Could he go home, back to the fishing-boats and + simple people of Carrowkeel? A great desire for the old scenes seized upon + him. He fought against it with all his might. He had rejected the offer of + the home life once. Now, no doubt, it would be closed against him. The + boat that might have been his was sold long ago. He would not go back to + confess himself a fool and a failure. + </p> + <p> + Gradually his mind worked back over the conversation in the hotel with + Captain Quinn. The recollection of the latter part of it, which had meant + nothing at the time, grew clear. He felt for the letter in his pocket, and + drew it out. After all, why should he not offer himself to James Quinn? + Ballymoy was remote enough to be a hiding-place. It was in County Mayo, + the Captain had said. He had never heard of the place, and it seemed + likely that no one else, except its inhabitants, knew of it either. At + least, there was no reason that he could see why he should not go there. + His brain refused to work any longer, either at planning or remembering. + His lips formed the word Ballymoy. He repeated it again and again. He + seemed to go on repeating it in the troubled sleep which came to him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + The Irish get credit, even from their enemies, for being a quick-witted, + imaginative, and artistic people, yet they display astonishingly little + taste or originality in their domestic architecture. In Connaught, where + the Celtic genius may be supposed to have the freest opportunity for + expressing itself, the towns are all exactly alike, and their resemblance + consists in the absence of any beauty which can please the eye. An English + country town, although the English bucolic is notoriously as stupid as an + ox, has certain features of its own. So has a Swiss cottage or a French + village. It is possible to represent these upon Christmas cards or the + lids of chocolate-boxes without labelling them English, Swiss, or French. + Any moderately well educated young lady will recognise them at once, and + exclaim without hesitation, ‘How truly English!’ or ‘How sweetly Swiss!’ + But no one can depict an Irish town with any hope of having it recognised + unless he idealizes boldly, introducing a highly-intelligent pig, or a man + in knee-breeches kissing a fancifully-attired colleen. And then, after + all, he might as well have labelled it Irish at once in good plain print, + and saved himself the trouble of drawing the symbolic figures. + </p> + <p> + To describe Ballymoy, therefore, mountains, rivers, and such like natural + eccentricities being left out of the count, is to describe fifty other + West of Ireland towns. There is a railway-station, bleak, gray, and + windswept, situated, for the benefit of local car-owners, a mile and a + half from the town, and the road which connects the two is execrable. + There is a workhouse, in Ballymoy as everywhere else in this lost land the + most prominent building. There is a convent, immense and wonderfully + white, with rows and rows of staring windows and a far-seen figure of the + Blessed Virgin, poised in a niche above the main door. There is a Roman + Catholic church, gray-walled, gray-roofed, and unspeakably hideous, but + large and, like the workhouse and the convent, obtruding itself upon the + eye. It seems as if the inhabitants of the town must all of them be + forced, and that at no distant date, either into religion or pauperism, + just as small bodies floating in a pond are sucked into connection with + one or other of the logs which lie among them. The shops in the one + tortuous street block the footpaths in front of their doors with piles of + empty packing-cases. The passenger is saluted, here by a buffet in the + face from a waterproof coat suspended outside a draper’s, there by a hot + breath of whisky-laden air. Two shops out of every three are + public-houses. These occupy a very beautiful position in the economic life + of the town. Their profits go to build the church, to pay the priests, and + to fill the coffers of the nuns. The making of the profits fills the + workhouse. A little aloof stands the Protestant church, austere to look + upon, expressing in all its lines a grim reproach of the people’s life. + Beyond it, among scanty, stooped trees, is the rectory, gray, as + everything else is, wearing, like a decayed lady, the air of having lived + through better days. + </p> + <p> + Such, save for one feature, is Ballymoy, as the traveller sees it, as + Hyacinth Conneally saw it when he arrived there one gusty afternoon. The + one unusual feature is Mr. James Quinn’s woollen mill. It stands, a gaunt + and indeed somewhat dilapidated building, at the bottom of the street, in + the angle where the river turns sharply to flow under the bridge. The + water just above the bridge is swept into a channel and forced to turn the + wheel which works some primitive machinery within. In the centre of the + mill’s front is an archway through which carts pass into the paved square + behind. Here is the weighbridge, and here great bundles of heavy-smelling + fleeces are unloaded. Off the square is the office where Mr. Quinn sits, + pays for the wool, and enters the weight of it in damp ledgers. Here on + Saturdays two or three men and a score of girls receive their wages. The + business is a peculiar one. You may bring your wool to Mr. Quinn in + fleeces, just as you sheer it off the sheep’s back. He will pay you for + it, more or less, according to the amount of trouble you have taken with + your sheep. This is the way the younger generation likes to treat its + wool. If you are older, and are blessed with a wife able to card and spin, + you deal differently with Mr. Quinn. For many evenings after the shearing + your wife sits by the fireside with two carding-combs in her hands, and + wipes off them wonderfully soft rolls of wool. Afterwards she fetches the + great wheel from its nook, and you watch her pulling out an endless gray + thread while she steps back and forwards across the floor. The girls watch + her, too, but not, as you do, with sleepy admiration. Their emotion is + amused contempt. Nevertheless, your kitchen wall is gradually decorated + with bunches of great gray balls. When these have accumulated + sufficiently, you take them to Mr. Quinn. A certain number of them become + his property. Out of the rest he will weave what you like—coarse + yellow flannel, good for bawneens, and, when it is dyed crimson, for + petticoats; or blankets—not fluffy like the blankets that are bought + in shops, but warm to sleep under when the winter comes; or perhaps + frieze, very thick and rough, the one fabric that will resist the winter + rain. + </p> + <p> + This portion of his business Mr. Quinn finds to be decreasing year by + year. Fewer and fewer women care to card and spin the wool. The younger + men find it more profitable to sell it at once, and to wear, instead of + the old bawneens, shirts called flannel which are brought over from + cotton-spinning Lancashire, and sold in the shops. The younger women think + that they look prettier in gowns made artfully by the local dressmaker out + of feeble materials got up to catch the eye. If now and then, for the sake + of real warmth, one of them makes a petticoat of the old crimson flannel, + it is kept so short that, save in very heavy rain, it can be concealed. + Unfortunately, while these old-fashioned profits are vanishing, Mr. Quinn + finds it very hard to increase the other branch of his business. The + fabrics which he makes are good, so good that he finds it difficult to + sell them in the teeth of competition. The country shops are flooded with + what he calls ‘shoddy.’ An army of eager commercial travellers pushes + showy goods on the shopkeepers and the public at half his price. Even the + farmers in remote districts are beginning to acquire a taste for + smartness. Some things in which he used to do a useful trade are now + scarcely worth making. There is hardly any demand for the checked + head-kerchiefs. The women prefer hats and bonnets, decked with cheap + ribbons or artificial flowers; and these bring no trade to Mr. Quinn’s + mill. Still, he manages to hold on. The Lancashire people, though they + have invented flannelette, cannot as yet make a passable imitation of + frieze, and there is a Dublin house which buys annually all the blankets + he can turn out. It is true that even there, and for the best class of + customers, prices have to be cut so as to leave a bare margin of profit. + Yet since there is a margin, Mr. Quinn holds on, though not very + hopefully. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth left the bulk of his luggage—a packing-case containing the + books which the auctioneer had failed to dispose of in Carrowkeel—at + the station, and walked into Ballymoy carrying his bag. He had little + difficulty in making his way to the mill, and found the owner of it in his + office. It was difficult at first to believe that James Quinn could be any + relation to Captain Albert, the traveller, horse-dealer, soldier, and + thief. This man was tall, though he stooped when he stood to receive his + visitor. His movements were slow. His fair hair lay thin across his + forehead, and was touched above the ears with gray. His blue eyes were + very gentle, and had a way of looking long and steadily at what they saw. + A glance at his face left the impression that life, perhaps by no very + gentle means, had taught him patience. + </p> + <p> + ‘This letter will introduce me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is from your brother, + Captain, or Mr. Albert, Quinn.’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn took the letter, and turned it over slowly. Then, without + opening it, he laid it on the table in front of him. His eyes travelled + from it to Hyacinth’s face, and rested there. It was some time before he + spoke, and then it was to correct Hyacinth upon a trivial point. + </p> + <p> + ‘My half-brother,’ he said. ‘My father married twice, and Albert is the + son of his second wife. You may have noticed that he is a great deal + younger than I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He looks younger, certainly,’ said Hyacinth, for the other was waiting + for a reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nearly twenty years younger. Albert is only just thirty.’ + </p> + <p> + The exact age of the Captain was uninteresting and seemed to be beside the + purpose of the visit. Hyacinth shifted his chair and fidgeted, uncertain + what to do or say next. + </p> + <p> + ‘Albert gave you this letter to me. Is he a friend of yours?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn looked at him again steadily. It seemed—but this may + have been fancy—that there was a kindlier expression in his eyes + after the emphatic repudiation of friendship with Albert. At length he + took up the letter, and read it through slowly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did my brother give you this letter?’ + </p> + <p> + The question was a puzzling one. Hyacinth had never thought of trying to + understand the Captain’s motives. Then the conversation in the hotel + recurred to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘He said that he wanted to do a good turn to me and to you also.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What had you done for him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + Apparently James Quinn was not in the least vexed at the brevity of the + answers he received, or disturbed because his cross-examination was + obviously disagreeable to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘In this letter,’ he went on, referring to the document as he spoke, ‘he + describes you as a young man who is “certainly honest, probably religious, + and possibly intelligent.” I presume you know my brother, and if you do, + you may be surprised to hear that I am quite prepared to take his word for + all this. I have very seldom known Albert to tell me lies, and I don’t + know why he should want to deceive me in this case. Still, I am a little + puzzled to account for his giving you the letter. Can you add nothing in + the way of explanation to what you have said?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know that I can,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you tell me how you met my brother, and what he is doing now, or + where he is?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not think I should be justified in doing so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well! I can understand that in certain circumstances Albert would be + very grateful to a man who would hold his tongue. He might be quite + willing to do you a good turn if you undertook to answer no questions + about him.’ + </p> + <p> + He smiled as he spoke, a little grimly, but there was laughter lurking in + the corners of his eyes. A Puritan will sometimes smile in such a way at + the thought of a sinful situation, too solemn to be laughed at openly, but + appealing to a not entirely atrophied sense of humour. Hyacinth felt + reassured. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed,’ he said, ‘I made no promise of silence. It is only that—well, + I don’t think——’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn waited patiently for the conclusion of the sentence, but + Hyacinth never arrived at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘In this letter,’ he said at last, ‘my brother asks me to give you the + place he lately held in my business. Now, I don’t want to press you to say + anything you don’t want to, but before we go further I must ask you this, + Were you implicated in the affair yourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon. I don’t quite understand what you mean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I suppose that since my brother is anxious that you should hold + your tongue, he has done something that won’t bear talking about. Were you + implicated in—in whatever the trouble was?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ said Hyacinth. ‘In fact, it was on account of what you + speak of as “trouble” that I declined to have anything more to do with + your brother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is probably very much to your credit, and, in the light of my + brother’s estimate of your character, I may say that I entirely believe + what you say. Am I to understand that you are an applicant for the post in + my business which Albert held, and which this letter tells me I may + consider vacant?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is what brought me down here,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you any other recommendations or testimonials as to character to + show me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. But there are several people who would answer questions about me if + you wrote to them: Dr. Henry, of Trinity College, would, or Miss Augusta + Goold, or Father Moran, of Carrowkeel, in County Galway.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have given me the most remarkable list of references I ever came + across in my life. I don’t suppose anyone ever before was recommended for + a post by a Protestant divinity professor, a notoriously violent political + agitator, a Roman Catholic priest, and a—well, we won’t describe my + brother. How do you come to be mixed up with all these people? Who are + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am the son of Æneas Conneally, Rector of Carrowkeel, who died last + Christmas.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said James Quinn, ‘I suppose if all these people are prepared to + recommend you, your character must be all right. Now, tell me, do you know + what the post is you are applying for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And I may as well say that I have had no experience + or business training whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I should suppose from the way you have come to me. Well, my brother + was clerk and traveller for my business. He was supposed to help me to + keep accounts and to push the sale of my goods among the shopkeepers in + Connaught. As a matter of fact, he never did either the one or the other. + When he was at home he did nothing. When he was on the road he bought and + sold horses. I paid him eighty pounds a year and his travelling expenses. + I also promised him a percentage on the profits of the sales he effected. + Now, do you think this work would suit you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I might not be able to do it,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but I should very much + like to be allowed to try. I can understand that I shall be very little + use at first, and I am willing to work without any salary for a time, + perhaps six months, until I have learned something about your business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, now, that’s a business-like offer. I’ll give you a trial, if it was + only for the sake of your list of references. I won’t keep you six months + without paying you if you turn out to be any good at all. And I think + there must be something in you, for you’ve gone about getting this job in + the queerest way I ever heard of. Would you like any time to make up your + mind finally before accepting the post?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I accept at once.’ + </p> + <p> + They walked together through the mill, and looked at the machines and the + workers. The girls smiled when Mr. Quinn stopped to speak to them, and + looked with frank curiosity at Hyacinth. The three or four men who did the + heavier work stopped and chatted for a few minutes when they came to them. + Evidently there was no soreness or distrust here between the employer and + the employed. When they had gone through the rooms where the work was + going on, they climbed a staircase like a ladder, and came to the loft + where the wool was stored. Hyacinth handled it as he was directed, and + endeavoured to appreciate the difference between the good and the inferior + qualities. They passed by an unglazed window at the back of the mill, and + Mr. Quinn pointed out his own house. It stood among trees and shrubs, now + for the most part bare, but giving promise of shady privacy in summertime. + Long windows opened out on to a lawn stretching down to the watercourse + which fed the millwheel. A gravel path skirted one side of the house + leading to a bridge, and thence to a doorway in a high wall, beyond which + lay the road. As they looked the door opened, and a woman with two little + girls came through. They crossed the bridge, and walked up to the house. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is my wife,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘and my two little girls.’ + </p> + <p> + He stretched out between the bars of the window, and shouted to them. All + three looked back. Mrs. Quinn waved her hand, and the two children shouted + in reply. Then a light appeared in one of the windows, and Hyacinth caught + a glimpse of a trim maid-servant pulling the curtains across it. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall be having tea at half-past six,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘Will you come + and join us? By the way, where are you staying?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth accepted the invitation, and confessed that he had not as yet + looked for any place to lay his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Better go to the hotel for to-night. It’s not much of a place, but + you will have to learn to put up with that sort of accommodation. Tomorrow + we’ll try and find you some decent lodgings.’ + </p> + <p> + The hotel struck even Hyacinth as of inferior quality, though it boasted + great things in the timetable advertisements, and called itself ‘Imperial’ + in large gold letters above its door. A smell of whisky and tobacco + greeted him as he entered, and a waiter with a greasy coat, in answer to + inquiries about a bed, sent him down a dark passage to seek a lady called + Miss Sweeney at the bar. Large leather cases with broad straps and + waterproof-covered baskets blocked the passage, and Hyacinth stumbled + among them for some time before he discovered Miss Sweeney reading a + periodical called <i>Spicy Bits</i> among her whisky-bottles. She was a + young woman of would-be fashionable appearance, and acted apparently in + the double capacity of barmaid and clerk. On hearing that Hyacinth + required, not whisky, but a bedroom, she requested him to go forward to + the office, indicating a glass case at the far end of the bar counter. + Here he repeated his request to her through a small opening in the glass, + and received her assurance, given with great condescension, that No. 42 + was vacant, and, further, that there was a fire in the commercial room. A + boy whom she summoned carried Hyacinth’s bag to an extremely dirty and + ill-furnished bedroom, and afterwards conducted him to the promised fire. + Two other guests were seated at it when he entered, who, after a long + stare, made room for him. Apparently there was no one else stopping in the + hotel, and the whole mass of cumbrous baggage which blocked the passage to + the bar must belong to them. Hyacinth realized, with a feeling of disgust + which he could not account for, that these were two members of his new + profession—fellow-travellers in the voyages of commerce. He gathered—for + they talked loudly, without regarding his presence—that they + represented two Manchester firms which were rivals in the wholesale + drapery business. Very much of what they said was unintelligible to him, + though the words were familiar. He knew that ‘lines’ could be ‘quoted,’ + but not apparently in the same sense in which they discussed these + operations, and it puzzled him to hear of muslins being ‘done at one and + seven-eighths.’ He sat for a time wondering at the waste of money and + energy involved in sending these men to remote corners of Ireland to + search for customers. Then he left them, and made his way down the muddy + street to Mr. Quinn’s house. + </p> + <p> + The room into which he was shown was different from any he had ever seen. + It was lit by a single lamp with a dull glass globe and a turf fire which + burnt brightly. Two straight-backed, leather-covered chairs stood one on + either side of the tiled hearth. Near one stood a little table covered + with neatly-arranged books, and, rising from among them, a reading-lamp, + as yet unlit. Beyond the other was a work-table strewed with reels and + scissors, on which lay a child’s frock and some stockings. The table was + laid for tea. On it were plates piled up with floury scones, delicate + beleek saucers full of butter patted thin into the shapes of shells, and + jam in coloured glass dishes cased in silver filigree. A large home-baked + loaf of soda bread on a wooden platter stood at one end of the table, and + near it a sponge-cake. At the other end was an array of cups and saucers + with silver spoons that glittered, a jug of cream, and one of milk. Two of + the cups were larger than the others, and had those curious bars across + them which are designed to save men from wetting their moustaches when + they drink. No room and no preparation for a meal could have offered a + more striking contrast to Augusta Goold’s dining-room, her groups of + wineglasses, multiplicity of heavy-handled knives and forks, and her + candles shrouded in silk. Nor was the dainty neatness less remote from the + cracked delf and huddled sordidness of his old home. + </p> + <p> + Long before Hyacinth had realized an impression of the scene before him + Mrs. Quinn greeted him, and led him to the fire. Her two little girls, who + lay on the hearthrug with a picture-book between them, were bidden to make + room for him. When her husband appeared she bustled off, and in a minute + or two she and the maid came in bringing toast and tea and hot water + hissing in a silver urn. + </p> + <p> + As the evening passed Hyacinth began to realize that he had entered into a + home of peace. He felt that these people were neither greatly anxious to + be rich nor much afraid of being poor. They seemed in no way fretted that + there were others higher in the social scale, cleverer or more brilliant + than they were. He understood that they were both of them religious in a + way quite different from any he had known. They neither spoke of + mysteries, like his father, nor were eager about disputings, like the men + who had been his fellow-students. They were living a very simple life, of + which faith and a wide charity formed a part as natural as eating or + sleeping. When the children’s bedtime came it seemed to him a very + wonderful thing that they should kneel in turns beside their father’s knee + and say their prayers aloud, when he, a stranger, was in the room. It + seemed to him less strange, because then he had been two hours longer in + the company of the Quinns, that before leaving he, too, should kneel + beside his hostess and listen while his new employer repeated the familiar + words of some of the old collects he had heard his father read in church. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + On Sunday, the third day after his arrival in Ballymoy, Hyacinth went to + church. He could hardly have avoided doing so, even if he had wanted to, + for Mrs. Quinn invited him to share her pew. There was no real necessity + for such hospitality, for the church was never, even under the most + favourable circumstances, more than half full. The four front seats were + reserved for a Mr. Stack, on whose property the town of Ballymoy stood. + But this gentleman preferred to live in Surrey, and even when he came over + to Ireland for the shooting rarely honoured the church with his presence. + A stone tablet, bearing the name of this magnate’s father, a Cork + pawnbroker, who had purchased the property for a small sum under the + Encumbered Estates Court Act, adorned the wall beside the pulpit. The + management of the property was in the hands of a Dublin firm, so the + parish was deprived of the privilege of a resident land agent. The doctor, + recently appointed to the district, was a Roman Catholic of plebeian + antecedents, which reduced the resident gentry of Ballymoy to the Quinns, + a bank manager, and the Rector, Canon Beecher. A few farmers, Mr. Stack’s + gamekeeper, and the landlady of the Imperial Hotel, made up the rest of + the congregation. + </p> + <p> + The service was not of a very attractive or inspiriting kind. Canon + Beecher—his title was a purely honorary one, not even involving the + duty of preaching in the unpretending building which, in virtue of some + forgotten history, was dignified with the name of Killinacoff Cathedral—read + slowly with somewhat ponderous emphasis. His thirty years in Holy Orders + had slightly hardened an originally luscious Dublin brogue, but there + remained a certain gentle aspiration of the <i>d’s</i> and <i>t’s</i>, and + a tendency to omit the labial consonants altogether. He read an immense + number of prayers, gathering, as it seemed to Hyacinth, the longest ones + from the four corners of the Prayer-Book. At intervals he allowed himself + to be interrupted with a hymn, but resumed afterwards the steady flow of + supplication. The eldest Miss Beecher—the Canon had altogether two + daughters and three sons—played a harmonium. The other girl and the + three boys, with the assistance of an uncertain bass from Mr. Quinn, gave + utterance to the congregation’s praise. Hyacinth tried to join in the + first hymn, which happened to be familiar to him, but quavered into + silence towards the end of the second verse, discovering that the eyes of + Mrs. Beecher from her pew, of the Canon from the reading-desk, of the + vocal Miss Beecher and her brothers, were fixed upon him. The sermon + proved to be long and uninteresting. It was about Melchizedek, and was so + far appropriate to the Priest and King that it had no recognisable + beginning and need not apparently have ever had an end. Perhaps no one, + unless he were specially trained for the purpose, could have followed + right through the quiet meanderings of the Canon’s thought. This kind of + sermon, however, has the one advantage that the listener can take it up + and drop it again at any point without inconvenience, and Hyacinth was + able to give his attention to some sections of it. There was no attempt at + eloquence or any kind of learning displayed, but he understood, as he + listened, where the Quinns got their religion, or at least how their + religion was kept alive. Certain very simple things were reiterated with a + quiet earnestness which left no doubt that the preacher believed exactly + what he said, and lived by the light of his faith. + </p> + <p> + One evening shortly afterwards Canon Beecher called upon Hyacinth. The + conversation during the visit resolved itself into a kind of catechism, + which, curiously enough, was quite inoffensive. The Canon learnt by + degrees something of Hyacinth’s past life, and his career in Trinity + College. He shook his head gravely over the friendship with Augusta Goold, + whom he evidently regarded as almost beyond the reach of the grace of God. + Hyacinth was forced to admit, with an increasing sense of shame, that he + had never signed a temperance pledge, did not read the organ of the Church + Missionary Society, was not a member of a Young Men’s Christian + Association, or even of a Gleaners’ Union. He felt, as he made each + confession sorrowfully, that he was losing all hope of the Canon’s + friendship, and was most agreeably surprised when the interview closed + with a warm invitation to a mid-day dinner at the Rectory on the following + Sunday. Mrs. Quinn, who took a sort of elder sister’s interest in his + goings out and comings in, was delighted when she heard that he was going + to the Rectory, and assured him that he would like both Mrs. Beecher and + the girls. She confided afterwards to her husband that the influence of a + Christian home was likely to be most beneficial to the ‘poor boy.’ + </p> + <p> + The Rectory displayed none of the signs of easy comfort which had charmed + Hyacinth in the Quinns’ house. The floor of the square hall was covered + with a cheap, well-worn oilcloth. Its walls were damp-stained, and the + only furniture consisted of a wooden chair and a somewhat rickety table. + In the middle of the wall hung a large olive-green card with silver + lettering. ‘Christ is the unseen Guest in this house,’ Hyacinth read, ‘the + Sharer in every pleasure, the Listener to every conversation.’ A fortnight + before, he would have turned with disgust from such an advertisement, but + now, since he had known the Quinns and listened to the Canon’s wandering + sermons, he looked at it with different eyes. He felt that the words might + actually express a fact, and that a family might live together as if they + believed them to be true. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said the Canon, who had come in with him, and saw him gaze at it, + ‘these motto-cards are very nice. I bought several of them last time I was + in Dublin, and I think I have a spare one left which I can give you if you + like. It has silver letters like that one, but printed on a crimson + ground.’ + </p> + <p> + Evidently the design and the colouring were what struck him as noticeable. + The motto itself was a commonplace of Christian living, the expression of + a basal fact, quite naturally hung where it would catch the eye of chance + visitors. + </p> + <p> + In the drawing-room Mrs. Beecher and her two daughters, still in their + hats and gloves, stood round a turf fire. They made a place at once for + Hyacinth, and one of the girls drew forward a rickety basket-work chair, + covered with faded cretonne. He was formally introduced to them. Miss + Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher had both, the latter very recently, reached + the dignity of young womanhood, and wore long dresses. The three boys, who + were younger, were made known afterwards. + </p> + <p> + When they went into the dining-room the Canon selected the soundest of a + miscellaneous collection of chairs for Hyacinth, and seated him beside + Mrs. Beecher. Then the elder girl—Miss Beecher’s name, he learnt, + was Marion—entered in a long apron carrying a boiled leg of mutton + followed by her sister with dishes of potatoes and mashed parsnips. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ said Mrs. Beecher, and there was no note of apology in her + voice as she made the explanation, ‘my girls are accustomed to do a good + deal of the house-work. We have only one servant, and she is not very + presentable when she has just cooked the dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth glanced at Marion Beecher, who smiled at him with frank + friendliness, as she took her seat beside her father. He saw suddenly that + the girl was beautiful. He had not noticed this in church. There he had no + opportunity of observing the subtle grace with which she moved, and the + half-light left unrevealed the lustrous purity of her complexion, the + radiant red and white which only the warm damp of the western seaboard can + give or preserve. Her eyes he had seen even in the church, but now first + he realized what unfathomable gentleness and what a wonder of frank + innocence were in them. The Canon looked round the table at his children, + and there was a humorous twinkle in his eye when he turned to Hyacinth and + quoted: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Your sons shall grow up as young plants, and your daughters shall be as + the polished corners of the temple.”’ + </p> + <p> + Perhaps nine-tenths of civilized mankind would regard five children as + five misfortunes under any circumstances, as quite overwhelming when they + have been showered on a man with a very small income, who is obliged to + live in a remote corner of Ireland. Apparently the Canon did not look upon + himself as an afflicted man at all. There was an unmistakable sincerity + about the way in which he completed his quotation: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Lo! thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.”’ + </p> + <p> + It dawned on Hyacinth that quite possibly the Canon’s view of the + situation might be the right one. It was certainly wonderfully pleasant to + see the girls move through the room, and it seemed to him that they + actually realized the almost forgotten ideal of serviceable womanhood. The + talk at dinner turned first on the ailments of an old woman who was + accustomed to clean the church, but was now suspected of being past her + work; then, by an abrupt transition, on the new hat which the + bank-manager’s wife had brought home from Dublin; and, finally, the + connection of thought being again far from obvious, on the hymns which had + been sung that morning. It was at this point that Hyacinth was included in + the conversation. Marion Beecher announced that one of the hymns was a + special favourite of hers, because she remembered her mother singing the + younger children to sleep with it when they were babies. She caught + Hyacinth looking at her while she spoke, and said to him: + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you sing, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do a little.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, then you must come and help us in the choir.’ ‘Choir’ seemed a + grandiose name for the four Beechers and Mr. Quinn, but Marion, who had + little experience of anything better, had no misgivings. ‘I hope you sing + tenor. I always long to have a tenor in my choir. Why, we might have one + of Barnby’s anthems at Easter, and we haven’t been able to sing one since + Mr. Nash left the bank.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had never sung a part in his life, and could not read music, but + he grew bold, and, professing to have an excellent ear, said he was + willing to learn. The prospect of a long series of choir practices + conducted by Marion Beecher seemed to him just then an extremely pleasant + one. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, while the two girls cleared away the plates and dishes, + Canon Beecher invited Hyacinth to smoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never learnt the habit myself,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t so much the fashion + in my young days as it is now, but I have no objection whatever to the + smell.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth lit a cigarette apologetically. It seemed to him almost a wicked + thing to do, but his host evidently wished him to be comfortable. Their + talk after the girls had left the room turned on politics. Hyacinth’s + confession of his friendship with Augusta Goold had impressed the Canon, + and he delivered himself of a very kindly little lecture on the duty of + loyalty and the sinfulness of contention with the powers that be. His way + of putting the matter neither irritated Hyacinth, like the flamboyant + Imperialism of the Trinity students, nor drove him into self-assertion, + like Dr. Henry’s contemptuous reasonableness. Still, he felt bound to make + some sort of defence of the opinions which were still his own. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ he said, ‘there must be some limit to the duty of loyalty. If a + Government has no constitutional right to rule, is a man bound to be loyal + to it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ said the Canon, ‘that the question is decided for us. Is it + not, Mr. Conneally? “Render unto Caesar”—you remember the verse. + Even if the Government were as unconstitutional as you appear to think, it + would not be more so than the Roman Government of Judaea when these words + were spoken.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth pondered this answer. It opened up to him an entirely new way of + looking at the subject, and he could see that it might be necessary for a + Christian to acquiesce without an attempt at resistance in any Government + which happened to exist. + </p> + <p> + He remembered other verses in the New Testament which could be quoted even + more conclusively in favour of this passive obedience. Yet he felt that + there must be a fallacy lurking somewhere. It was, on the face of it, an + obvious absurdity to think that a man, because he happened to be a + Christian, was therefore bound to submit to any form of tyranny or + oppression. + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose,’ he said—‘I only say suppose—that a Government did + immoral things, that it robbed or allowed evil-disposed people to rob, + would it still be right to be loyal?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so,’ said the Canon quietly. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at him in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean to say that you yourself would be loyal under such + circumstances?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I prefer not to discuss the question in that personal way, but the Church + to which you and I belong is loyal still, although the Government has + robbed us of our property and our position, and although it is now + allowing our people to be robbed still further.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean by the Disestablishment and the Land Acts?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. I think it is our great glory that our loyalty is imperishable, that + it survives even such treatment as we have received and are receiving.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very beautiful,’ said Hyacinth slowly. ‘I see that there is a + great nobility in such loyalty, although I do not even wish to share it + myself. You see, I am an Irishman, and I want to see my country great and + free.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose,’ said the Canon, ‘that it is very natural that we should love + the spot on earth in which we live. I think that I love Ireland too. But + we must remember that our citizenship is in heaven, and it seems to me + that any departure from the laws of the King of that country dishonours + us, and even dishonours the earthly country which we call our own.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth said nothing. There flashed across him a recollection of Augusta + Goold’s hope that some final insult would one day goad the Irish + Protestants into disloyalty. Clearly, if Canon Beecher was to be regarded + as a type, she had no conception of the religious spirit of the Church of + Ireland. But was there anyone else like this clergyman? He did not know, + but he guessed that his friends the Quinns would think of the matter in + somewhat the same way. It seemed to him quite possible that in scattered + and remote parishes this strangely unreasonable conception of Christianity + might survive. After a pause the Canon went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘You must not think that I do not love Ireland too. I look forward to + seeing her free some day, but with the freedom of the Gospel. It will not + be in my time, I know, but surely it will come to pass. Our people have + still the simple faith of the early ages, and they have many very + beautiful virtues. They only want the dawn of the Dayspring from on high + to shine on them, and then Ireland will be once more the Island of Saints—<i>insula + sanctorum</i>.’ He dwelt tenderly on the two words. ‘I do not think it + will matter much then what earthly Government bears rule over us. But + come, I see that you have finished your smoke, and I must go to my study + to think over my sermon.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth entered the drawing-room the girls surrounded him, asking + him for answers to a printed list of questions. It appeared that the + committee of a bazaar for some charity in which it was right to be + interested had issued a sort of examination-paper, and promised a prize to + the best answerer. The questions were all of one kind: ‘What is the Modern + Athens—the Eternal City—the City of the Tribes? Who was the + Wizard of the North—the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith? The earlier + names on the list presented little difficulty to Hyacinth. Marion took + down his answers, whilst Elsie murmured a pleasant chorus of astonishment + at his cleverness. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. ‘Who was the Martyr of + Melanesia?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have never heard of him,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never heard of the Martyr of Melanesia!’ said Elsie. ‘Why, we knew that + at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Marion, ‘there was an article on him in last month’s <i>Gleaner</i>. + Surely you read the <i>Gleaner</i>, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt Marion’s eyes fixed on him with something of a reproach in + them. He wrestled with a vague recollection of having somewhere heard the + name of the periodical. For a moment he thought of risking + cross-questioning, and saying that he had only missed the last number. + Then he suddenly remembered the card with silver lettering which hung + above his coat in the hall, and told the truth with even a quite + unnecessary aggravation. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I never remember seeing a copy of it in my life. I don’t even know + what it is about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said the girls, round-eyed with horror. ‘Just think! And we all have + collecting-boxes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a missionary periodical,’ said Marion. ‘It has news in it from + every corner of the mission-field, and every month a list of the stations + that specially need our prayers.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth left the Rectory that night with three well-read numbers of the + <i>Gleaner</i> in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards he had many talks with Canon Beecher and the Quinns about the + work of the missionary societies. He learnt, to his surprise, that really + immense sums of money were subscribed every year by members of the Church + of Ireland for the conversion of the heathen in very remote parts of the + world. It could not be denied that these contributions represented genuine + self-denial. Young men went without a sufficiency of tobacco, and + refrained from buying sorely-needed new tennis-racquets. Ladies, with the + smallest means at their command, reared marketable chickens, and sold + their own marmalade and cakes. In such ways, and not from the superfluity + of the rich, many thousands of pounds were gathered annually. It was still + more wonderful to him to discover that large numbers of young men and + women, and these the most able and energetic, devoted themselves to this + foreign service, and that their brothers and sisters at home were banded + together in unions to watch their doings and to pray for them. He found + himself entirely untouched by this enthusiasm, in spite of the beautiful + expression it found in the lives of his new friends. + </p> + <p> + But it astonished him greatly that there should be this potent energy in + the Irish Church. The utter helplessness of its Bishops and clergy in + Irish affairs, the total indifference of its people to every effort at + national regeneration, had led him to believe that the Church itself was + moribund. Now he discovered that there was in it an amazing vitality, a + capacity of giving birth to enthusiastic souls. The knowledge brought with + it first of all a feeling of intense irritation. It seemed to him that all + religions were in league against Ireland. The Roman Church seized the + scanty savings of one section of the people, and squandered them in buying + German glass and Italian marble. Were the Protestants any better, when + they spent £20,000 a year on Chinamen and negroes? The Roman Catholics + took the best of their boys and girls to make priests and nuns of them. + The Protestants were doing the same thing when they shipped off their + young men and young women to spend their strength among savages. Both were + robbing Ireland of what Ireland needed most—money and vitality. He + would not say, even to himself, that all this religious enthusiasm was so + much ardour wasted. No doubt the Roman priest did good work in Chicago, as + the Protestant missionary did in Uganda; only it seemed to him that of all + lands Ireland needed most the service and the prayers of those of her + children who had the capacity of self-forgetfulness. Afterwards, when he + thought more deeply, he found a great hope in the very existence of all + this altruistic enthusiasm. He had a vision of all that might be done for + Ireland if only the splendid energy of her own children could be used in + her service. He tried more than once to explain his point of view. Mr. + Quinn met him with blank disbelief in any possible future for Ireland. + </p> + <p> + ‘The country is doomed,’ he said. ‘The people are lazy, thriftless, and + priest-ridden. The best of them are flying to America, and those that + remain are dying away, drifting into lunatic asylums, hospitals, and + workhouses. There is a curse upon us. In another twenty years there will + be no Irish people—at least, none in Ireland. Then the English and + Scotch will come and make something of the country.’ + </p> + <p> + From Canon Beecher he met with scarcely more sympathy or understanding. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘no doubt we ought to make more efforts than we do to + convert our fellow-countrymen. But it is very difficult to see how we are + to go to work. There is one society which exists for this purpose. Its + friends are full of the very kind of enthusiasm which you describe. I + could point you out plenty of its agents whose whole souls are in their + work, but you know as well as I do how completely they are failing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I do not in the least mean that we should start + more missions to Roman Catholics. It does not seem to me to matter much + what kind of religion a man professes, and I should be most unwilling to + uproot anyone’s belief. What we ought to do is throw our whole force and + energy into the work of regenerating Ireland. It is possible for us to do + this, and we ought to try.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said the Canon, ‘I must not let you make me argue with you, + Conneally; but I hope you won’t preach these doctrines of yours to my + daughters. I think it is better for them to drop their pennies into + missionary collecting-boxes, and leave the tangled problems of Irish + politics to those better able to understand them than we are.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + There are certain professions, in themselves honest, useful, and even + estimable, for which society has agreed to entertain a feeling of + contempt. It is, for instance, very difficult to think of a curate as + anything except a butt for satirists, or to be respectful to the + profession of tailoring, although many a man for private pecuniary reasons + is meek before the particular individual who makes his clothes. Yet the + novelist and the playwright, who hold the mirror up to modern humanity, + are occasionally kind even to curates and tailors. There is a youthful + athlete in Holy Orders who thrashes, to our immense admiration, the + village bully, bewildering his victim and his admirers with his mastery of + what is described a little vaguely as the ‘old Oxford science.’ Once, at + least, a glamour of romance has been shed over the son of a tailor, and it + becomes imaginable that even the chalker of unfinished coats may in the + future be posed as heroic. There is still, however, a profession which no + eccentric novelist has ever ventured to represent as other than entirely + contemptible. The commercial traveller is beneath satire, and outside the + region of sympathy. If he appears at all in fiction or on the stage, he is + irredeemably vulgar. He is never heroic, never even a villain, rarely + comic, always, poor man, objectionable. This is a peculiar thing in the + literature of a people like the English, who are not ashamed to glory in + their commercial success, and are always ready to cheer a politician who + professes to have the interests of trade at heart. Amid the current + eulogies of the working man and the apotheosis of the beings called + ‘Captains of Industry,’ the bagman surely ought to find at least an + apologist. Without him it seems likely that many articles would fail to + find a place in the windows of the provincial shopkeepers. Without him + large sections of the public would probably remain ignorant for years of + new brands of cigarettes, and dyspeptic people might never come across the + foods which Americans prepare for their use. + </p> + <p> + Also the individual bagman is often not without his charm. He knows, if + not courts and princes, at least hotels and railway companies. He is on + terms of easy familiarity with every ‘boots’ in several counties. He can + calculate to a nicety how long a train is likely to be delayed by a fair + ‘somewhere along the line.’ He is also full of information about local + politics. In Connaught, for instance, an experienced member of the + profession will gauge for you the exact strength of the existing League in + any district. He knows what publicans may be regarded as ‘priest’s men,’ + and who have leanings towards independence. His knowledge is frequently + minute, and he can prophesy the result of a District Council election by + reckoning up the number of leading men who read the <i>United Irishman</i>, + and weighing them against those who delight in the pages of the <i>Leader</i>. + The men who can do these things are themselves local. They reside in their + district, and, as a rule, push the sales and collect the debts of local + brewers and flour-merchants. The representatives of the larger English + firms only make their rounds twice or three times a year, and are less + interesting. They pay the penalty of being cosmopolitan, and tend to + become superficial in their judgment of men and things. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, like most members of the public, was ignorant of the greatness + and interest of his new profession. He entered upon it with some + misgiving, and viewed his trunk of sample blankets and shawls with + disgust. Even a new overcoat, though warm and weatherproof, afforded him + little joy, being itself a sample of Mr. Quinn’s frieze. One thought alone + cheered him, and even generated a little enthusiasm for his work. It + occurred to him that in selling the produce of the Ballymoy Mill he was + advancing the industrial revival of Ireland. He knew that other people, + quite heroic figures, were working for the same end. A Government Board + found joyous scope for the energies of its officials in giving advice to + people who wanted to cure fish or make lace. It earned the blessing which + is to rest upon those who are reviled and evil spoken of, for no one, + except literary people, who write for English magazines, ever had a good + word for it. There were also those—their activity took the form of + letters to the newspapers—who desired to utilize the artistic + capacity of the Celt, and to enrich the world with beautiful fabrics and + carpentry. They, too, were workers in the cause of the revival. Then there + were great ladies, the very cream of the Anglo-Irish aristocracy, who + petted tweeds and stockings, and offered magnificent prizes to industrious + cottagers. They earned quite large sums of money for their protégés by + holding sales in places like Belfast and Manchester, where titles can be + judiciously cheapened to a wealthy bourgeoisie, and the wives of + ship-builders and cotton-spinners will spend cheerfully in return for the + privilege of shaking hands with a Countess. A crowd of minor enthusiasts + fostered such industries as sprigging, and there was one man who believed + that the future prosperity of Ireland might be secured by teaching people + to make dolls. It was altogether a noble army, and even a commercial + traveller might hold his head high in the world if he counted himself one + of its soldiers. Hitherto results have not been at all commensurate with + the amount of printer’s ink expended in magazine articles and + advertisements. Yet something has been accomplished. Nunneries here and + there have been induced to accept presents of knitting-machines, and + people have begun to regard as somehow sacred the words ‘technical + education.’ The National Board of Education has also spent a large sum of + money in reviving among its teachers the almost forgotten art of making + paper boats. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth very soon discovered that his patriotic view of this work did not + commend itself to his brother travellers. He found that they had no + feeling but one of contempt for people whom they regarded as meddling + amateurs. Occasionally, when some convent, under a bustling Mother + Superior, advanced from the region of half-charitable sales at exhibitions + into the competition of the open market, contempt became dislike, and + wishes were expressed in quite unsuitable language that the good ladies + would mind their own proper business. Until Hyacinth learnt to conceal his + hopes of Ireland’s future as a manufacturing country he was regarded with + suspicion. No one, of course, objected to his making what use he could of + patriotism as an advertisement, but he was given to understand that, like + other advertisements, it could not be quoted among the initiated without a + serious breach of good manners. Even as an advertisement it was not rated + highly. + </p> + <p> + There was an elderly gentleman, stout and somewhat bibulous, who + superintended the consumption of certain brands of American cigarettes in + the province of Connaught. Hyacinth met him in the exceedingly dirty + Railway Hotel at Knock. Since there were no other guests, and the evening + was wet, the two were thrown upon each other’s society in the + commercial-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think,’ said Mr. Hollywell, in reply to a remark of Hyacinth’s, + ‘that there’s the least use trying to drag patriotic sentiment into + business. Of course, since you represent an Irish house—woollen + goods, I think you said—you’re quite right to run the fact for all + it’s worth. I don’t in the least blame you. Only I don’t think you’ll find + it pays.’ + </p> + <p> + He sipped his whisky-and-water—it was still early, and he had only + arrived at his third glass—and then proceeded to give his personal + experience. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I work for an American firm. If there was any force in the patriotic + idea I shouldn’t sell a single cigarette. My people are in the big tobacco + combine. You must have read the sort of things the newspapers wrote about + us when we started. From any point of view, British Imperial or Irish + National, we should have been boycotted long ago if patriotism had + anything to do with trade. But look at the facts. Our chief rivals in this + district are two Irish firms. They advertise in Gaelic, which is a mistake + to start with, because nobody can read it. They get the newspaper people + to write articles recommending a “great home industry” to public support. + They get local branches of all the different leagues to pass resolutions + pledging their members to smoke only Irish tobacco. But until quite lately + they simply didn’t have a look in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ asked Hyacinth. ‘Were your things cheaper or better?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the other, ‘I don’t think they were either. You see, prices are + bound to come out pretty even in the long run, and I should say that, if + anything, they sold a slightly better article. It’s hard to say exactly + why we beat them. When competition is really keen a lot of little things + that you would hardly notice make all the difference. For one thing, I get + a free hand in the matter of subscribing to local bazaars and + race-meetings. I’ve often taken as much as a pound’s worth of tickets for + a five-pound note that some priest was raffling in aid of a new chapel. + It’s wonderful the orders you can get from shopkeepers in that kind of + way. Then, we get our things up better. Look at that.’ + </p> + <p> + He handed Hyacinth a highly-glazed packet with a picture of a handsome + brown dog on it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep it,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I give away twenty or thirty of those + packets every week. Now look inside. What have you? Oh, H.M.S. <i>Majestic</i>. + That’s one of a series of photos of “Britain’s first line of defence.” + Lots of people go on buying those cigarettes just to get a complete + collection of the photos. We supply an album to keep them in for one and + sixpence. There’s another of our makes which has pictures of actresses and + pretty women. They are extraordinarily popular. They’re perfectly all + right, of course, from the moral point of view, but one in every ten is in + tights or sitting with her legs very much crossed, just to keep up the + expectation. It’s very queer the people who go for those photos. You’d + expect it to be young men, but it isn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + The subject was not particularly interesting to Hyacinth, but since his + companion was evidently anxious to go on talking, he asked the expected + question. + </p> + <p> + ‘Young women,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I found it out quite by accident. I + got a lot of complaints from one particular town that our cigarettes had + no photos with them. I discovered after a while that a girl in one of the + principal shops had hit on a dodge for getting out the photos without + apparently injuring the packets. The funny thing was that she never + touched the ironclads or the “Types of the soldiers of all nations,” which + you might have thought would interest her, but she collared every single + actress, and had duplicates of most of them. And she wasn’t an exception. + Most girls goad their young men to buy these cigarettes and make + collections of the photos. Queer, isn’t it? I can’t imagine why they do + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You said just now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that latterly you hadn’t done quite + so well. Did you run out of actresses and battleships?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; but one of the Irish firms took to offering prizes and enclosing + coupons. You collected twenty coupons, and you got a silver-backed + looking-glass—girls again, you see—or two thousand coupons, + and you got a new bicycle. It’s an old dodge, of course, but somehow it + always seems to pay. However, all this doesn’t matter to you. All I wanted + was to show you that there is no use relying on patriotism. The thing to + go in for in any business is attractive novelties, cheap lines, and, in + the country shops, long credit.’ + </p> + <p> + It was not very long before Hyacinth began to realize the soundness of Mr. + Hollywell’s contempt for patriotism. In the town of Clogher he found the + walls placarded with the advertisements of an ultra-patriotic draper. + ‘Féach Annseo,’ he read, ‘The Irish House. Support Home Manufactures.’ + Another placard was even more vehement in its appeal. ‘Why curse England,’ + it asked, ‘and support her manufacturers?’ Try O’Reilly, the one-price + man.’ The sentiments were so admirable that Hyacinth followed the advice + and tried O’Reilly. + </p> + <p> + The shop was crowded when he entered, for it was market day in Clogher. + The Irish country-people, whose manners otherwise are the best in the + world, have one really objectionable habit. In the street or in a crowded + building they push their way to the spot they want to reach, without the + smallest regard for the feelings of anyone who happens to be in the way. + Sturdy country-women, carrying baskets which doubled the passage room they + required, hustled Hyacinth into a corner, and for a time defeated his + efforts to emerge. Getting his case of samples safely between his legs, he + amused himself watching the patriot shopkeeper and his assistants + conducting their business. It was perfectly obvious that in one respect + the announcements of the attractive placard departed from the truth: + O’Reilly was not a ‘one-price man,’ He charged for every article what he + thought his customers were likely to pay. The result was that every sale + involved prolonged bargaining and heated argument. In most cases no harm + was done. The country-women were keenly alive to the value of their money, + and evidently enjoyed the process of beating down the price by halfpennies + until the real value of the article was reached. Then Mr. O’Reilly and his + assistants were accustomed to close the haggle with a beautiful formula: + </p> + <p> + ‘To <i>you</i>,’ they said, with confidential smiles and flattering + emphasis on the pronoun—‘to <i>you</i> the price will be one and a + penny; but, really, there will be no profit on the sale.’ + </p> + <p> + Occasionally with timid and inexperienced customers O’Reilly’s method + proved its value. Hyacinth saw him sell a dress-length of serge to a young + woman with a baby in her arms for a penny a yard more than he had charged + a moment before for the same material. Another thing which struck him as + he watched was the small amount of actual cash which was paid across the + counter. Most of the women, even those who seemed quite poor, had accounts + in the shop, and did not shrink from increasing them. Once or twice a + stranger presented some sort of a letter of introduction, and was at once + accommodated with apparently unlimited credit. + </p> + <p> + At length there was a lull in the business, and Hyacinth succeeded in + spreading his goods on a vacant counter, and attracting the attention of + Mr. O’Reilly. He began with shawls. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will give me a good order for these shawls.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly fingered them knowingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Price?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth mentioned a sum which left a fair margin of profit for Mr. Quinn. + O’Reilly shook his head and laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth reduced his price at once as far as possible. + </p> + <p> + ‘No use,’ said Mr. O’Reilly. + </p> + <p> + Compared with the suave oratory to which he treated his customers, this + extreme economy of words was striking. + </p> + <p> + ‘See here,’ he said, producing a bundle of shawls from a shelf beside him. + ‘I get these for twenty-five shillings a dozen less from Thompson and + Taylor of Manchester.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at them curiously. Each bore a prominent label setting + forth a name for the garment in large letters surrounded with wreaths of + shamrocks. ‘The Colleen Bawn,’ he read, ‘Erin’s Own,’ ‘The Kathleen + Mavourneen,’ ‘The Cruiskeen Lawn.’ The appropriateness of this last title + was not obvious to the mere Irishman, but the colour of the garment was + green, so perhaps there was a connection of thought in the maker’s mind + between that and ‘Lawn.’ ‘Cruiskeen’ he may have taken for the name of a + place. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are these,’ asked Hyacinth, ‘what you advertise as Irish goods?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly cleared his throat twice before he replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘They are got up specially for the Irish market.’ In the interests of his + employer Hyacinth kept his temper, but the effort was a severe one. + </p> + <p> + ‘These,’ he said, ‘are half cotton. Mine are pure wool. They are really + far better value even if they were double the price.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t say they’re not, but I should not sell one of yours for every + dozen of the others.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Try,’ said Hyacinth; ‘give them a fair chance. Tell the people that they + will last twice as long. Tell them that they are made in Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That would not be the slightest use. They would simply laugh in my face. + My customers don’t care a pin where the goods are made. I have never in my + life been asked for Irish manufacture.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, why on earth do you stick up those advertisements?’ said Hyacinth, + pointing to the ‘Féach Annseo’ which appeared on a hoarding across the + street. + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly was perfectly frank and unashamed. + </p> + <p> + ‘The other drapery house in the town is owned by a Scotchman, and of + course it pays more or less to keep on saying that I am Irish. Besides, I + mean to stand for the Urban Council in March, and those sort of ads. are + useful at an election, even if they are no good for business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said Hyacinth, shirking a discussion on the + morality of advertising: ‘I’ll let you have a dozen shawls at cost price, + and take back what you can’t sell, if you give me your word to do your + best for them.’ + </p> + <p> + Similar discussions followed the display of serges and blankets. It + appeared that nice-looking goods could be sent over from England at lower + prices. It was vain for Hyacinth to press the fact that his things were + better. Mr. O’Reilly admitted as much. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what am I to do? The people don’t want what is good. They want a + cheap article which looks well, and they don’t care a pin whether the + thing is made in England, Ireland, or America. Take my advice,’ he added + as Hyacinth left the shop: ‘get your boss to do inferior lines—cheap, + cheap and showy.’ + </p> + <p> + So far Mr. Hollywell’s opinions were entirely justified. The appeal of the + patriotic press to the public and the shopkeepers on behalf of the + industrial revival of Ireland had certainly not affected the town of + Clogher. Hyacinth was bitterly disappointed; but hope, when it is born of + enthusiasm, dies hard, and he was greatly interested in a speech which he + read one day in the ‘Mayo Telegraph’. It had been made at a meeting of the + League by an Ardnaree shopkeeper called Dowling. A trade rival—the + fact of the rivalry was not emphasized—had advertised in a Scotch + paper for a milliner. Dowling was exceedingly indignant. He quoted + emigration statistics showing the number of girls who left Mayo every year + for the United States. He pointed out that all of them might be employed + at home, as milliners or otherwise, if only the public would boycott shops + which sold English goods or employed Scotch milliners. He more than + suspected that the obnoxious advertisement was part of an organized + attempt to effect a new plantation of Connaught—‘worse than + Cromwell’s was.’ The fact that Connaught was the only part of Ireland + which Cromwell did not propose to plant escaped the notice of both Mr. + Dowling and his audience. The speech concluded with a passionate + peroration and a verse, no doubt declaimed soundingly, of ‘The West’s + Awake.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made an expedition to Ardnaree, and called hopefully on the + orator. His reception was depressing in the extreme. The shop, which was + large and imposing, was stocked with goods which were obviously English, + and Mr. Dowling curtly refused even to look at the samples of Mr. Quinn’s + manufactures. Hyacinth quoted his own speech to the man, and was amazed at + the cynical indifference with which he ignored the dilemma. + </p> + <p> + ‘Business is one thing,’ he said, ‘and politics is something entirely + different.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth lost his temper completely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall write to the papers,’ he said, ‘and expose you. I shall have your + speech reprinted, and along with it an account of the way you conduct your + business.’ + </p> + <p> + A mean, hard smile crossed Mr. Dowling’s mouth before he answered: + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you don’t know that my wife is the Archbishop’s niece?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth stared at him. For a minute or two he entirely failed to + understand what Mrs. Dowling’s relationship to a great ecclesiastic had to + do with the question. At last a light broke on him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean that an editor wouldn’t print my letter because he would be + afraid of offending a Roman Catholic Archbishop?’ + </p> + <p> + The expression ‘Roman Catholic’ caught Mr. Dowling’s attention. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you a Protestant?’ he asked. ‘You are—a dirty Protestant—and + you dare to come here into my own house, and insult me and trample on my + religious convictions. I’m a Catholic and a member of the League. What do + you mean, you Souper, you Sour-face, by talking to me about Irish + manufactures? Get out of this house, and go to the hell that’s waiting for + you!’ + </p> + <p> + As Hyacinth turned to go, there flashed across his mind the recollection + of Miss Goold and her friends who wrote for the <i>Croppy</i>. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s one paper in Ireland, anyhow,’ he said, ‘which is not afraid of + your wife nor your Archbishop. I’ll write to the <i>Croppy</i>, and you’ll + see if they won’t publish the facts.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dowling grinned. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care if they do,’ he said. ‘The priests are dead against the <i>Croppy</i>, + and there’s hardly a man in the town reads it. Go up there now to Hely’s + and try if you can buy a copy. I tell you it isn’t on sale here at all, + and whatever they publish will do me no harm.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth returned to the hotel he found Mr. Holywell seated, with the + inevitable whisky-and-water beside him, in the commercial-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Mr. Conneally,’ he said, ‘and how is patriotism paying you? Find + people ready to buy what’s Irish?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, boiling over with indignation, related his experience with Mr. + Dowling. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did I tell you?’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘But anyhow you’re just as well + out of a deal with that fellow. I wouldn’t care to do business with him + myself. I happen to know, and you may take my word for it’ —his + voice sunk to a confidential whisper—‘that he’s very deep in the + books of two English firms, and that he daren’t—simply daren’t—place + an order with anyone else. They’d have him in the Bankruptcy Court + to-morrow if he did. I shouldn’t feel easy with Mr. Dowling’s cheque for + an account until I saw how the clerk took it across the bank counter. You + mark my words, there’ll be a fire in that establishment before the year’s + out.’ + </p> + <p> + The prophecy was fulfilled, as Hyacinth learnt from the <i>Mayo Telegraphy</i> + and Mr. Dowling’s whole stock of goods was consumed. There were rumours + that a sceptical insurance company made difficulties about paying the + compensation demanded; but the inhabitants of Ardnaree marked their + confidence in the husband of an Archbishop’s niece by presenting him with + an address of sympathy and a purse containing ten sovereigns. + </p> + <p> + Most of Hyacinth’s business was done with small shopkeepers in remote + districts. The country-people who lived out of reach of such centres of + fashion as Ardnaree and Clogher were sufficiently unsophisticated to + prefer things which were really good. Hats and bonnets were not quite + universal among the women in the mountain districts far back where they + spoke Irish, and Mr. Quinn’s head-kerchiefs were still in request. Even + the younger women wanted garments which would keep them warm and dry, and + Hyacinth often returned well satisfied from a tour of the country shops. + Sometimes he doubted whether he ought to trust the people with more than a + few pounds’ worth of goods, but he gradually learnt that, unlike the + patriotic Mr. Dowling, they were universally honest. He discovered, too, + that these people, with their imperfect English and little knowledge of + the world, were exceedingly shrewd. They had very little real confidence + in oratorical politicians, and their interest in public affairs went no + further than voting consistently for the man their priest recommended. But + they quickly understood Hyacinth’s arguments when he told them that the + support of Irish manufactures would help to save their sons and daughters + from the curse of emigration. + </p> + <p> + ‘Faith, sir,’ said a shopkeeper who kept a few blankets and tweeds among + his flour-sacks and porter-barrels, ‘since you were talking to the boys + last month, I couldn’t induce one of them to take the foreign stuff if I + was to offer him a shilling along with it.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + When he returned to Ballymoy after his interview with Mr. Dowling, + Hyacinth set himself to fulfil his threat of writing to the <i>Croppy</i>. + He spent Saturday afternoon and evening in his lodgings with the paper + containing the blatant speech spread out before him. He blew his anger to + a white heat by going over the evidence of the man’s grotesque hypocrisy. + He wrote and rewrote his article. It was his first attempt at expressing + thought on paper since the days when he sought to satisfy examiners with + disquisitions on Dryden’s dramatic talent and other topics suited to the + undergraduate mind. This was a different business. It was no longer a + question of filling a sheet of foolscap with grammatical sentences, + discovering synonyms for words hard to spell. Now thoughts were hot in + him, and the art lay in finding words which would blister and scorch. Time + after time he tore up a page of bombast or erased ridiculous + flamboyancies. Late at night, with a burning head and ice-cold feet, he + made his last copy, folded it up, and, distrusting the cooler criticism of + the morning, went out and posted it to the <i>Croppy</i>. + </p> + <p> + A letter from Miss Goold overtook him the following Thursday in the hotel + at Clogher. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was delighted to hear from you again,’ she wrote. ‘I was afraid you had + cut me altogether, gone over to the respectable people, and forgotten poor + Ireland. Captain Quinn told me that you and he had quarrelled, and I + gathered that you rather disapproved of him. Well, he was a bit of a + blackguard; but, after all, one doesn’t expect a man who takes on a job of + that kind to be anything else. I never thought it would suit you, and you + will do me the justice of remembering that I never wanted you to + volunteer. Now about your article. It was admirable. These “Cheap + Patriots”’—it was thus the article was headed—‘are just the + creatures we want to scarify. Dowling and his kind are the worst enemies + Ireland has to-day. We’ll publish anything of that kind you send us, and + remember we’re not the least afraid of anybody. It’s a grand thing for a + paper to be as impecunious as the <i>Croppy</i>. No man but a fool would + take a libel action against us with any hope of getting damages. A jury + might value Dowling’s character at any fantastic sum they chose, but it + would be a poor penny the <i>Croppy</i> would pay. Still, we’re not so + hard up that we can’t give our contributors something, and next week + you’ll get a small cheque from the office. I hope it may encourage you to + send us more. Don’t be afraid to speak out. If anything peculiarly + seditious occurs to you, write it in Irish. I know it’s all the same to + you which language you write in. Do us half a column every fortnight or so + on Western life and politics.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was absurdly elated by Miss Goold’s praise. He made up his mind + to contribute regularly to the <i>Croppy</i>, and had visions of a great + future as a journalist, or perhaps a literary exponent of the ideas of + Independent Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, he became very intimate both with the Quinns and with Canon + Beecher’s family. Mrs. Quinn was an enthusiastic gardener, and early in + the spring Hyacinth helped her with her flowerbeds. He learnt to plait the + foliage of faded crocuses, and pin them tidily to the ground with little + wooden forks. He gathered suitable earth for the boxes in which begonias + made their earliest sproutings, and learned to know the daffodils and + tulips by their names. Later on he helped Mr. Quinn to mow the grass and + mix a potent weed-killer for the gravel walks. There came to be an + understanding that, whenever he was not absent on a journey, he spent the + latter part of the afternoon and the evening with the Quinns. As the days + lengthened the family tea was pushed back to later and later hours to give + more time out of doors. + </p> + <p> + There is something about the very occupation of gardening which is + deadening to enthusiasm. Perhaps a man learns patience by familiarity with + growing plants. Nature is never in a hurry in a garden, and there is no + use in trying to hustle a flower, whereas a great impatience is the very + life-spirit of enthusiastic patriotism. There has probably never been a + revolutionary gardener, or even a strong Radical who worked with open-air + flowers. Of course, in greenhouses things can be forced, and the spirit of + the ardent reformer may find expression in the nurture of premature + blooms. Perhaps also the constant stooping which gardening necessitates, + especially in the early spring, when the weeds grow plentifully, tends to + destroy the stiff mental independence which must be the attitude of the + militant patriot. It is very difficult for a man who has stooped long + enough to have conquered his early cramps and aches to face the problems + of politics with uncompromising rigidity. Hyacinth recognised with a + curious qualm of disgust that his thoughts turned less and less to + Ireland’s wrongs and Ireland’s future as he learnt to care for the flowers + and the grass. + </p> + <p> + No doubt, too, the atmosphere of the Quinns’ family life was not congenial + to the spirit of the Irish politician. Mrs. Quinn was totally uninterested + in politics, and except a prejudice in favour of what she called loyalty, + had absolutely no views on any question which did not directly affect her + home and her children. Mr. Quinn had a coldly-reasonable political and + economic creed, which acted on the luxuriant fancies of Hyacinth’s + enthusiasm as his weed-killer did on the tender green of the paths. He + declined altogether to see any good in supporting Irish manufactures + simply because they were Irish. The story of O’Reilly’s attitude towards + his shawls moved him to no indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s perfectly right,’ he said. ‘If a man can buy cheap shawls in + England he would be a fool to pay more for Irish ones. Business can’t be + run on those lines. I’m not an object of charity, and if I can’t meet fair + competition I must go under, and it’s right that I should go under.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had no answer to give. He shirked the point at issue, and + attacked Mr. Quinn along another line in the hope of arousing his + indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is not fair competition that you are called upon to face. Do you + call it fair competition when the Government subsidizes a woollen factory + in a convent?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you are thinking of the four thousand pounds the + Congested Districts Board gave to the convent at Bobeen. But it is hardly + fair to hold the Government responsible for the way that body wastes + eighty thousand pounds a year.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Government is ultimately responsible, and you must admit that, after + such a gift, and in view of the others which will certainly follow, you + are called upon to meet most unfair competition.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I admit that. But isn’t that exactly what you want to make general? + There doesn’t seem to me any difference between giving a bounty to one + industry and imposing a protective tariff in favour of another; and if + your preference for Irish manufactures means anything, it means a sort of + voluntary protection for every business in the country. If you object to + the Robeen business being subsidized you can’t logically try to insist on + mine being protected.’ + </p> + <p> + It was puzzling to have the tables turned on him so adroitly. Hyacinth was + reduced to feeble threat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just wait a while till the nuns get another four thousand pounds, and + perhaps four thousand pounds more after that, and see how it will affect + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Quinn smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not much afraid of nuns as trade competitors, or, for the matter of + that, of the Congested Districts Board either. If the Yorkshire people + would only import a few Mother Superiors to manage their factories, and + take the advice of members of our Board in their affairs, I would + cheerfully make them a present of any reasonable subsidy, and beat them + out of the market afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + There was another influence at work on Hyacinth’s mind which had as much + to do with the decay of his patriotism as either the gardening or Mr. + Quinn’s logic. Marion Beecher and her sister were very frequently at the + Mill House during the spring and summer. There was one long afternoon + which was spent in the marking out of the tennis-ground. Mr. Quinn had + theories involving calculations with a pencil and pieces of paper about + the surest method of securing right angles at the corners and parallel + lines down the sides of the court. Hyacinth and Marion worked obediently + with a tape measure and the garden line. One of the boys messed cheerfully + with a pail of liquid whitening. Afterwards the gardening was somewhat + deserted, and Hyacinth was instructed in the game. It took him a long time + to learn, and for many afternoons he and Marion were regularly beaten, but + she would not give up hope of him. Often the excuse of her coming to the + Quinns was the necessity of practising some new hymn or chant for Sunday. + Hyacinth worked as hard at the music as at the tennis under her tuition, + and there came a time when he could sing an easy tenor part with fair + accuracy. Then in the early summer, when the evenings were warm, hymns + were sung on the lawn in front of the house. There seemed no incongruity + in Marion Beecher’s company in passing without a break from lawn-tennis to + hymn-singing, and Mr. Quinn was always ready to do his best at the bass + with a serious simplicity, as if it were a perfectly natural and usual + thing to close an afternoon’s amusement with ‘Rock of Ages.’ Hyacinth was + not conscious of any definite change in his attitude towards religion. He + still believed himself to be somehow outside the inner shrine of the life + which the Beechers and the Quinns lived, just as he had been outside his + father’s prayers. But he found it increasingly difficult after an hour or + two of companionship with Marion Beecher to get back to the emotions which + had swayed him during the weeks of his intimacy with Miss Goold. To write + for the <i>Croppy</i> after sitting beside Marion in church on Sunday + evenings was like passing suddenly from a quiet wood into a heated saloon + where people wrangled. A wave of the old passionate feeling, when it + returned, affected him as raw spirit would the palate of a boy. + </p> + <p> + One day early in summer—the short summer of Connaught, which is + glorious in June, and dissolves into windy mist and warm rain in the + middle of July—Hyacinth was invited by Canon Beecher to join a + boating party on the lake. The river, whose one useful function was the + turning of Mr. Quinn’s millwheel, wound away afterwards through marshy + fields and groves of willow-trees into the great lake. At its mouth the + Beechers kept their boat, a cumbrous craft, very heavy to row, but safe + and suited to carry a family in comfort. The party started early—Canon + Beecher, Hyacinth, and one of the boys very early, for they had to walk + the two miles which separated Ballymoy from the lake shore. Mrs. Beecher, + the girls, the two other boys, and the baskets of provisions followed a + little later on the Rectory car, packed beyond all possibility of comfort. + The Canon himself pulled an oar untiringly, but without the faintest + semblance of style, and the party rippled with joy when they discovered + that Hyacinth also could row. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Elsie, ‘we can go anywhere. We can go on rowing and rowing all + day, and see places we’ve never seen before.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear girl,’ said her mother, ‘remember that Mr. Conneally and your + father aren’t machines. You mustn’t expect them to go too far.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but,’ said Elsie, ‘father says he never gets tired if he has only one + oar to pull.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon was preparing for his toil. The old coat, in colour now almost + olive green, was folded and used as a cushion by Marion in the bow. His + white cuffs, stowed inside his hat, were committed to the care of Mrs. + Beecher. He rolled his gray shirtsleeves up to the elbow, and unbuttoned + his waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m ready. If I’m not hurried, I’ll pull along all day. + But what about you, Conneally? You’re not accustomed to this sort of + thing?’ + </p> + <p> + But Hyacinth for once was self-confident. He might be a poor singer and a + contemptible tennis player, but he knew that nothing which had to do with + boats could come amiss to him. He looked across the sparkling water of the + lake. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll go on as long as you like. You won’t tire me when there’s no tide + and no waves. This is a very different business from getting out the + sweeps to pull a nobby five miles against the strength of the ebb, with a + heavy ground swell running.’ + </p> + <p> + About eleven o’clock they landed on an island and ate biscuits. The Canon + told Hyacinth the story of the ruin under whose walls they sat. + </p> + <p> + ‘It belonged to the Lynotts, the Welshmen of Tyrawley. They were at feud + with the Burkes, and one night in winter——’ + </p> + <p> + The girls wandered away, carrying their biscuits with them. It is likely + that they had heard the story every summer as long as they could remember. + Mrs. Beecher alone still maintained an attitude of admiration for her + husband’s antiquarian knowledge, the more creditable because she must have + been familiar with the onset of the MacWilliam Burkes before even Marion + was old enough to listen. To Hyacinth the story was both new and + interesting. It stirred him to think of the Lynotts fighting hopelessly, + or begging mercy in the darkness and the cold just where he sat now + saturate with sunlight and with life. He gazed across the mile of shining + water which separated the castle from the land, and tried to realize how + the Irish servant-girl swam from the island with an infant Lynott on her + back, and saved the name from perishing. How the snow must have beaten in + her face and the lake-waves choked her breath! It was a great story, but + the girls, shouting from the water’s edge, reminded him that he was out to + pull an oar, and not to sentimentalize. He and the Canon rose, half + smiling, half sighing, and took their places in the boat. + </p> + <p> + They penetrated before luncheon time to a bay hitherto unknown to the + Beechers. A chorus of delight greeted its discovery. The water shone + bright green and very clear above the slabs of white limestone. The shore + far inland was almost verdure-less. Broad flat rocks lay baking in the + sunshine, and only the scantiest grass struggled up between their edges. + Sometimes they overlapped each other, and rose like an immense staircase. + Fifty yards or so from the land was a tiny island entirely overgrown with + stunted bushes. The boat was pushed up to it and a landing-place sought, + but the shrubs were too thick, and it was decided to picnic among the + rocks on the land. Then Marion in the bow made a discovery. A causeway + about a foot under water led from the island to the shore. The whole party + leaned over to examine it. Every stone was visible in the clear water, and + it was obvious that it had been planned and built, and was no merely + accidental formation of the rocks. The Canon had heard of a similar device + resorted to by an island hermit to insure the privacy of his cell. + Hyacinth spoke vaguely of the settlements of primitive communities of + lake-dwellers. The three boys planned an expedition across the causeway + after luncheon. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll carry our shoes and stockings with us,’ they said, ‘and then + explore the island. Perhaps there is a hermit there still, or a primitive + lake-dweller. What is a primitive lake-dweller, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was uncertain, but hazarded a suggestion that the lake-dwellers + were the people who buried each other in raths. The Canon, whose + archaeology did not go back beyond St. Patrick, offered no correction. + </p> + <p> + Tea was made later on in yet another bay, this time on the eastern shore + of the lake. An oak wood grew down almost to the water’s edge, and the + branches overhung a sandy beach, more golden than any sea-strand. The + whole party collected dead wood and broken twigs for the fire. Then, while + the girls unpacked the baskets and secured the kettle amidst the smoke, + Hyacinth lay back luxuriously and watched the sun set behind the + round-shouldered mountain opposite. The long, steep slope shone bright + green while the sun still rested in view above the summit; then suddenly, + when the topmost rim of it had dipped out of sight, the whole mountainside + turned purple, and a glory of gold and crimson hung above it on the + motionless streaks of cloud. Slowly the splendour faded, the purple turned + gray, and a faint breeze fluttered across the lake. + </p> + <p> + The day was the first of many which Hyacinth gave to such expeditions. The + work of Mr. Quinn’s office was not so pressing as to necessitate his + spending every day there when he was in Ballymoy, and a holiday was always + obtainable. The lake scenery remained vivid in his memory in after-years, + and had its influence upon him even while he enjoyed it, unconscious of + anything except the present pleasure. There was something besides the + innocent gaiety of the girls and the simple sincerity of the Canon’s + platitudes, something about the lake itself, which removed him to a + spiritual region utterly remote from the fiery atmosphere of Miss Goold’s + patriotism. Many things which once loomed very large before him sank to + insignificance as he drank to the full of the desolation around him. The + past, in which no doubt men strove and hoped, hated and loved and feared, + had left the just recognisable ruins of some castles and the causeway + built by an unknown hermit or the prehistoric lake-dwellers. A few + thatched cabins, faintly smoking, and here and there a cairn of stones + gathered laboriously off the wretched fields, were the evidences of + present activity. Now and then a man hooted to his dog as it barked at the + sheep on the hillside, or a girl drove a turf-laden donkey inland from the + boggy shore. Otherwise there were no signs of human life. A deep sense of + monotony and inevitableness settled down upon Hyacinth. He came for the + first time under the great enchantment which paralyzes the spirit and + energy of the Celt. He knew himself to be, as his people were, capable of + spasms of enthusiasm, the victim of transitory burnings of soul. But the + curse was upon him—the inevitable curse of feeling too keenly and + seeing too clearly to be strenuous and constant. The flame would die down, + the enthusiasm would vanish—it was vanishing from him, as he knew + well—and leave him, not indeed content with common life, but patient + of it, and to the very end sad with the sense of possibilities unrealized. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was not without many struggles and periods of return to the older + emotions that Hyacinth surrendered his enthusiasm. There still recurred to + him memories of his father’s vision of an Armageddon and the conception of + his own part in it. Sometimes, waking very early in the morning, he became + vividly conscious of his own feebleness of will and his falling away from + great purposes. The conviction that he was called to struggle for + Ireland’s welfare, to sacrifice, if necessary, his life and happiness for + Ireland, was strong in him still. He felt himself affected profoundly by + the influences which surrounded him, but he had not ceased to believe that + the idea of self-sacrificing labour was for him a high vocation. He + writhed, his limbs twisting involuntarily, when these thoughts beset him, + and often he was surprised to discover that he was actually uttering aloud + words of self-reproach. + </p> + <p> + Then he would write fiercely, brutally, catch at the excuse of some + hypocrisy or corruption, or else denounce selfishness and easy-going + patriotic sentiment, finding subject for his satire in himself. His + articles brought him letters of praise from Miss Goold. ‘You have it,’ she + wrote once, ‘the thing we all seek for, the power of beating red-hot + thought into sword-blades. Write more like the last.’ But the praise + always came late. The violent mood, the self-reproach, the bitterness, + were past. His life was wrapt round again with softer influences, and he + read his own words with shame when they reached him in print. Afterwards + for a while, if he wrote at all, it was of the peasant life, of quaint + customs, half-forgotten legends and folklore. These articles appeared too, + but brought no praise from Miss Goold. Once she reproached him when he + lapsed into gentleness for many consecutive weeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘You oughtn’t to waste yourself. There are fifty men and women can do the + sort of thing you’re doing now; we don’t want you to take it up. It’s + fighting men we need, not maundering sentimentalists.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + It was during the second year of Hyacinth’s residence in Ballymoy that the + station-master at Clogher died. The poor man caught a cold one February + night while waiting for a train which had broken down three miles outside + his station. From the cold came first pneumonia, and then the end. Now, + far to the east of Clogher, on a different branch of the railway-line, is + a town with which the people of Mayo have no connection whatever. In it is + a very flourishing Masonic lodge. Almost every male Protestant in the town + and the neighbourhood belongs to it, and the Rector of the parish is its + chaplain. Among its members at that time was an intelligent young man who + occupied the position of goods clerk on the railway. The Masonic brethren, + as in duty bound, used their influence to secure his promotion, and + brought considerable pressure to bear on the directors of the company to + have him made station-master at Clogher. + </p> + <p> + It is said with some appearance of truth that no appointment in Ireland is + ever made on account of the fitness of the candidate for the post to be + filled. Whether the Lord Lieutenant has to nominate a Local Government + Board Inspector, or an Urban Council has to select a street scavenger, the + principle acted on is the same. No investigation is made about the ability + or character of a candidate. Questions may be asked about his political + opinions, his religious creed, and sometimes about the social position of + his wife, but no one cares in the least about his ability. The matter + really turns upon the amount of influence which he can bring to bear. So + it happened that John Crawford, Freemason and Protestant, was appointed + station-master at Clogher. Of course, nobody really cared who got the post + except a few seniors of John Crawford’s, who wanted it for themselves. + Probably even they would have stopped grumbling after a month or two if it + had not happened that a leading weekly newspaper, then at the height of + its popularity and influence, was just inaugurating a crusade against + Protestants and Freemasons. The case of John Crawford became the subject + of a series of bitter and vehement articles. It was pointed out that + although Roman Catholics were beyond all question more intelligent, better + educated, and more upright than Protestants, they were condemned by the + intolerance of highly-paid officials to remain hewers of wood and drawers + of water. It was shown by figures which admitted of no controversy that + Irish railways, banks, and trading companies were, without exception, on + the verge of bankruptcy, entirely owing to the apathy of shareholders who + allowed their interests to be sacrificed to the bigotry of directors. It + was urged that a public meeting should be held at Clogher to protest + against the new appointment. + </p> + <p> + The meeting was convened, and Father Fahey consented to occupy the chair. + He was supported by a dispensary doctor, anxious to propitiate the Board + of Guardians with a view to obtaining a summer holiday; a leading + publican, who had a son at Maynooth; a grazier, who dreaded the possible + partition of his ranch by the Congested Districts Board; and Mr. O’Reilly, + who saw a hope of drawing custom from the counter of his rival draper, the + Scotchman. + </p> + <p> + Father Fahey opened the proceedings with a speech. He assured his audience + that he was not actuated by any spirit of religious bigotry or + intolerance. He wished well to his Protestant fellow-countrymen, and hoped + that in the bright future which lay before Ireland men of all creeds would + be united in working for the common good of their country. These + sentiments were not received with vociferous applause. The audience was + perfectly well aware that something much more to the point was coming, and + reserved their cheers. Father Fahey did not disappoint them. He proceeded + to show that the appointment of the new station-master was a deliberate + insult to the faith of the inhabitants of Clogher. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are we,’ he asked, ‘to submit tamely to having the worst evils of the old + ascendancy revived in our midst?’ + </p> + <p> + He was followed by the dispensary doctor, who also began by declaring his + freedom from bigotry. He confused the issue slightly by complaining that + the new station-master was entirely ignorant of the Irish language. It was + perfectly well known that in private life the doctor was in the habit of + expressing the greatest contempt for the Gaelic League, and that he could + not, if his life depended on it, have translated even Mr. O’Reilly’s + advertisements; but his speech was greeted with tumultuous cheers. He + proceeded to harrow the feelings of his audience by describing what he had + heard at the railway-station one evening while waiting for the train. As + he paced the platform his attention was attracted by the sound of a piano + in the station-master’s house. He listened, and, to his amazement and + disgust, heard the tune of a popular song, ‘a song’—he brought down + his fist on the table as he uttered the awful indictment—‘imported + from England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ask,’ he went on—‘I ask our venerated and beloved parish priest; + I ask you, fathers of innocent families; I ask every right-thinking + patriot in this room, are our ears to be insulted, our morals corrupted, + our intellects depraved, by sounds like these?’ + </p> + <p> + He closed his speech by proposing a resolution requiring the railway + company to withdraw the obnoxious official from their midst. + </p> + <p> + The oratory of the grazier, who seconded the resolution, was not inferior. + It filled his heart with a sense of shame, so he said, to think of his + cattle, poor, innocent beasts of the field, being handled by a Protestant. + They had been bred, these bullocks of his, by Catholics, fed by Catholics, + were owned by a Catholic, bought with Catholic money at the fairs, and yet + they were told that in all Ireland no Catholic could be discovered fit to + put them into a train. + </p> + <p> + Neither the resolution itself nor the heart-rending appeal of the grazier + produced the slightest effect on the railway company. John Crawford + continued to sell tickets, even to Father Fahey himself, and appeared + entirely unconcerned by the fuss. + </p> + <p> + About a fortnight after the meeting Hyacinth spent a night in Clogher. Mr. + Holywell, the cigarette man, happened to be in the hotel, and, as usual, + got through a good deal of desultory conversation while he drank his + whisky-and-water. Quite unexpectedly, and apropos of nothing that had been + said, he plumped out the question: + </p> + <p> + ‘What religion are you, Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + The inquiry was such an unusual one, and came so strangely from Mr. + Holywell, who had always seemed a Gallio in matters spiritual, that + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a Baptist myself,’ he went on, apparently with a view to palliating + his inquisitiveness by a show of candour. ‘I find it a very convenient + sort of religion in Connaught. There isn’t a single place of worship + belonging to my denomination in the whole province, so I’m always able to + get my Sundays to myself. I don’t want to convert you to anything or to + argue with you, but I have a fancy that you are a Church of Ireland + Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth admitted the correctness of the guess, and wondered what was + coming next. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ever spend a Sunday here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I always get back home for the end of the week if + I can.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Well, do you know, if I were you, I should spend next Sunday here, + and go to Mass.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall not do anything of the sort.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s your own affair, of course; only I just think I should do it + if I were you. Good-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a minute,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I want to know what you mean.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Holywell sat down again heavily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Been round your customers here lately?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. I only arrived this evening, and have done nothing yet. I mean to go + round them to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may just as well go home by the early train for all the good you’ll + do.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth restrained himself with an effort. He reflected that he was more + likely to get at the meaning of these mysterious warnings if he refrained + from direct questioning. After a minute of two of silence Mr. Hollywell + went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘They had a meeting here a little while ago about the appointment of a + Protestant station-master. They didn’t take much by it so far as the + railway company is concerned, but I happen to know that word has gone + round that every shopkeeper in the town is to order his goods as far as + possible from Catholics. Now, everybody knows your boss is a Protestant, + but the people are a little uncertain about you. They’ve never seen you at + Mass, which is suspicious, but, on the other hand, the way you gas on + about Irish manufactures makes them think you can’t be a Protestant. The + proper thing for you to do is to lie low till you’ve put in an appearance + at Mass, and then go round and try for orders.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the kind of thing,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I couldn’t do if I had no + religion at all; but it happens that I have convictions of a sort, and I + don’t mean to go against them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well, as I said before, it’s your own affair; only better Protestants + than you have done as much. Why, I do it myself constantly, and everyone + knows that a Baptist is the strongest kind of Protestant there is.’ + </p> + <p> + This reasoning, curiously enough, proved unconvincing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t believe,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that a religious boycott of the kind is + possible. People won’t be such fools as to act clean against their own + interests. Considering that nine-tenths of the drapery goods in the + country come from England and are sold by Protestant travellers, I don’t + see how the shopkeepers could act as you say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, of course they won’t act against their own interests. I’ve never come + across a religion yet that made men do that. They won’t attempt to boycott + the English firms, because, as you say, they couldn’t; but they can + boycott you. Everything your boss makes is turned out just as well and + just as cheap, or cheaper, by the nuns at Robeen. Perhaps you didn’t know + that these holy ladies have hired a traveller. Well, they have, and he’s a + middling smart man, too—quite smart enough to play the trumps that + are put into his hand; and he’s got a fine flush of them now. What with + the way that wretched rag of a paper, which started all the fuss, goes on + rampaging, and the amount of feeling that’s got up over the + station-master, the peaceablest people in the place would be afraid to + deal with a Protestant at the present moment. The Robeen man has the game + in his own hands, and I’m bound to say he’d be a fool if he didn’t play it + for all it’s worth. I’d do it myself if I was in his shoes.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth discovered next day that Mr. Holywell had summed up the situation + very accurately. No point-blank questions were asked about his religion, + but he could by no means persuade his customers to give him even a small + order. Every shop-window was filled with goods placarded ostentatiously as + ‘made in Robeen.’ Every counter had tweeds, blankets, and flannels from + the same factory. No one was in the least uncivil to him, and no one + assigned any plausible reason for refusing to deal with him. He was simply + bowed out as quickly as possible from every shop he entered. + </p> + <p> + He returned home disgusted and irritated, and told his tale to his + employer. Mr. Quinn recognised the danger that threatened him. For the + first time, he admitted that his business was being seriously injured by + the competition of Robeen. He took Hyacinth into his confidence more fully + than he had ever done before, and explained what seemed to be a hopeful + plan. + </p> + <p> + ‘I may tell you, Conneally, that I have very little capital to fall back + upon in my business. Years ago when things were better than they are now, + I had a few thousands put by, but most of it went on buying my brother + Albert’s share of the mill. Lately I have not been able to save, and at + the present moment I can lay hands on very little money. Still, I have + something, and what I mean to do is this: I shall give up all idea of + making a profit for the present. I shall even sell my goods at a slight + loss, and try to beat the nunnery out of the market. I think this + religious animosity will weaken after a while, and if we offer the + cheapest goods we must in the end get back our customers.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was not so sanguine. + </p> + <p> + ‘You forget,’ he said, ‘that these people have Government money at their + backs, and are likely to get more of it. If you sell at a loss they will + do so, too, and ask for a new grant from the Congested Districts Board to + make good their deficiency.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Quinn sighed. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is quite possible,’ he said. ‘But what can I do? I must make a fight + for my business.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I have no right to make the suggestion, but it seems to me that + you are bound to be beaten. Would it not be better to give in at once? + Don’t risk the money you have safe. Keep it, and try to sell the mill and + the business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall hold on,’ said Mr. Quinn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ought you not to think of your wife? Remember what it will mean to her if + you are beaten in the end, when your savings are gone and your business + unsaleable.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment there were signs of wavering in Mr. Quinn’s face. The fingers + of his hands twisted in and out of each other, and a pitiable look of + great distress came into his eyes. Then he unclasped his hands and placed + them flat on the table before him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall hold on,’ he said. ‘I shall not close my mill while I have a + shilling left to pay my workers with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it is for you to decide. At least, you can count + on my doing my best, my very best.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Quinn carried on his struggle for nearly a year, although from the + very first he might have recognised its hopelessness. Time after time + Hyacinth made his tour, and visited the shopkeepers who had once been his + customers. Occasionally he succeeded in obtaining orders, and a faint + gleam of hope encouraged him, but he had no steady success. Mr. Quinn’s + original estimate of the situation was so far justified that after a while + the religious animosity died out. Shopkeepers even explained + apologetically that they gave their orders to the Robeen convent for + purely commercial reasons. + </p> + <p> + ‘Their goods are cheaper than yours, and that’s the truth, Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth recognised that Mr. Quinn was being beaten at his own game. He + had attempted to drive the nuns out of the market by underselling them, + and now it appeared that they, too, were prepared to face a loss. It was + obvious that their losses must be great, much greater than Mr. Quinn’s. + Rumours were rife of large loans raised by the Mother Superior, of + mortgages on the factory buildings and the machinery. These stories + brought very little consolation, for, as Hyacinth knew, Mr. Quinn was very + nearly at the end of his resources. He refused to borrow. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I am forced to close up,’ he said, ‘I shall do so with a clear + balance-sheet. I have no wish for bankruptcy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like,’ said Hyacinth vindictively, ‘to see the Reverend Mother + reduced to paying a shilling in the pound.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you won’t see that. The convent is a + branch of an immense organization. No doubt, if it comes to a pinch, funds + will be forthcoming.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, and they won’t draw on their own purse till they have got all they + can out of the Congested Districts Board. I have no doubt they are + counting on another four thousand pounds to start them clear when they + have beaten you.’ + </p> + <p> + One day, quite accidentally, Hyacinth came by a piece of information about + the working of the Robeen factory which startled him. He was travelling + home by rail. It happened to be Friday, and, as usual in the early summer, + the train was crowded with emigrants on their way to Queenstown. The + familiar melancholy crowd waited on every platform. Old women weeping + openly and men with faces ridiculously screwed and puckered in the effort + to restrain the rising tears clung to their sons and daughters. Pitiful + little boxes and carpet bags were piled on the platform. Friends clung to + hands outstretched through the carriage-windows while the train moved + slowly out. Then came the long mournful wail from those left behind, and + the last wavings of farewell. At the Robeen station the crowd was no less + than elsewhere. The carriages set apart for the emigrants were full, and + at the last minute two girls were hustled into the compartment where + Hyacinth sat. A woman, their mother, mumbled and slobbered over their + hands. An old man, too old to be their father, shouted broken benedictions + to them. Two young men—lovers, perhaps, or brothers—stood + red-eyed, desolate and helpless, without speaking. After the train had + started Hyacinth looked at the girls. One of them, a pretty creature of + perhaps eighteen years old, wept quietly in the corner of the carriage. + Beside her lay her carpet bag and a brown shawl. On her lap was an orange, + and she held a crumpled paper bag of biscuits in her hand. There was + nothing unusual about her. She was just one instance of heartbreak, the + heart-break of a whole nation which loves home as no other people have + ever loved it, and yet are doomed, as it seems inevitably, to leave it. + She was just one more waif thrown into the whirlpool of the great world to + toil and struggle, succeed barrenly or pitifully fail; but through it all, + through even the possible loss of faith and ultimate degradation, fated to + cling to a love for the gray desolate fatherland. The other girl was + different. Hyacinth looked at her with intense interest. She was the older + of the two, and not so pretty as her sister. Her face was thin and pale, + and a broad scar under one ear showed where a surgeon’s knife had cut. She + sat with her hands folded on her lap, gazing dry-eyed out of the window + beside her. There was no sign of sorrow on her face, nothing but a kind of + sulky defiance. + </p> + <p> + After a while she took the paper bag out of her sister’s hand, opened it, + and began to eat the gingerbread biscuits it contained. Hyacinth spoke to + her, but she turned her head away, and would not answer him. His voice + seemed to rouse the younger sister, who stopped crying and looked at him + curiously. He tried again, and this time he spoke in Irish. + </p> + <p> + At once the younger girl brightened and answered him. Apparently she had + no fear that malice could lurk in the heart of a man who spoke her own + language. In a few minutes she was chatting to him as if he were an old + friend. + </p> + <p> + He learnt that the two girls were on their way to New York. They had a + sister there who had sent them the price of their tickets. Yes, the sister + was in a situation, was getting good wages, and had clothes ‘as grand as a + lady’s.’ She had sent home a photograph at Christmas-time, which their + mother had shown all round the parish. These two were to get situations + also as soon as they arrived. Oh yes, there was no doubt of it: Bridgy had + promised. There were four of them left at home—three boys and a + girl. No doubt in time they would all follow Bridgy to America—all + but Seumas; he was to have the farm. No, the girls could not get married, + because their father was too poor to give them fortunes. There was nothing + for them but to go to America. But their mother had not wanted them to go. + The clergy and the nuns were against the girls going. Indeed, they nearly + had them persuaded to send Bridgy’s money back. + </p> + <p> + ‘But Onny was set on going.’ + </p> + <p> + She glanced at her sister in the corner of the carriage. Hyacinth turned + to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you want to leave Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + But Onny remained silent, sulky, at it seemed. It was the younger girl who + answered him. + </p> + <p> + ‘They say it’s a fine life they have out there. There’s good money to be + earned, and mightn’t we be coming home some day with a fortune?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But aren’t you sorry to leave Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + Again he looked at the elder girl, and this time was rewarded with a flash + of defiant bitterness from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sorry, is it? No, but I’m glad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Onny’s always saying that there was nothing to be earned in the factory. + And she got more than the rest of us. Wasn’t she the first girl that + Sister Mary Aloysius picked out of the school when the young lady from + England came over to teach us? She was the best worker they had.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s true what she says,’ said Onny. ‘I was the best worker they had. I + worked for them for three years, and all I was getting at the end of it + was six shillings a week. Why would I be working for that when I might be + getting wages like Bridgy’s in America? What sense would there be in it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why did you work for such wages?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now,’ said the younger girl, ‘how could we be refusing the Reverend + Mother when she came round the town herself, and gave warning that we’d + all be wanted?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s few,’ continued Onny, without noticing her sister, ‘that earned + as much as I did. Many a girl works there and has no more than one and + ninepence to take home at the end of the week.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth began to understand how it was that Mr. Quinn was being + hopelessly beaten. This was no struggle between two trade rivals, to be + won by the side with the longer purse. Nor was it simply a fight between + an independent manufacturer and a firm fed with Government bounties. Mr. + Quinn’s rival could count on an unlimited supply of labour at starvation + wages, while he had to hire men and women at the market value of their + services. He had been sorry for the two girls when they got into the + train. Now he felt almost glad that they were leaving Ireland. It appeared + that they had certainly chosen the wiser part. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at home dejected, and sat down beside the fire in his room to + give himself up to complete despair. He found no hope anywhere. Irish + patriotism, so he saw it, was a matter of words and fine phrases. No one + really believed in it or would venture anything for it. Politics was a + game at which sharpers cheated each other and the people. The leaders were + bold only in sordid personal quarrels. The mass of the people were utterly + untouched by the idea of nationality, in earnest about nothing but + huckstering and petty gains. Over all was the grip of a foreign + bureaucracy and a selfish Church tightening slowly, squeezing out the + nation’s life, grasping and holding fast its wealth. No man any longer + made any demand except to be allowed to earn what would buy whisky enough + to fuddle him into temporary forgetfulness of the present misery and the + imminent tyranny. + </p> + <p> + The slatternly maid-servant who brought him his meals and made his bed + tapped at the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, sir, Jimmy Loughlin’s after coming with a letter from Mr. Quinn, + and he’s waiting to know if you’ll go.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth read the note, which asked him to call on his employer that + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell him I’ll be there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you have your dinner before you go? The chops is in the pan below. + Or will I keep them till you come back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’ve time enough. Bring them as soon as they’re cooked, and for + goodness’ sake see that the potatoes are properly boiled.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up a great English weekly paper, with copies of which Canon + Beecher supplied him at irregular intervals, and propped it against the + dish-cover while he ate. The article which caught his attention was headed + ‘Angels in Connaught.’ It contained an idealized account of the work of + the Robeen nuns, from whose shoulders it seemed to the writer likely that + wings would soon sprout. There was a description of the once miserable + cabins now transformed into homesteads so comfortable that English + labourers would not disdain them. The people shared in the elevation of + their surroundings. Men and women, lately half-naked savages, starved and + ignorant, had risen in the scale of civilization and intelligence to a + level which almost equalled that of a Hampshire villager. The double + stream of emigration to the United States and migration to the English + harvest-fields was stopped. An earthly paradise had been created in a + howling wilderness by the self-denying labours of the holy ladies, aided + by the statesmanlike liberality of the Congested Districts Board. There + was another page of the article, but Hyacinth could stand no more. + </p> + <p> + He stood up and glanced at his watch. It was already nearly five o’clock. + He pushed his way down the street, where the country-people, having + completed their week’s marketing, were loading donkeys on the footpath or + carts pushed backwards against the kerbstone. Women dragged their + heavily-intoxicated husbands from the public-houses, and girls, damp and + bedraggled, stood in groups waiting for their parents. He turned into the + gloomy archway of the mill, unlocked the iron gate, and crossed the yard + into the Quinns’ garden. The lamp burned brightly in the dining-room, and + he could see Mrs Quinn in her chair by the fireside sewing. Her children + sat on the rug at her feet. He saw their faces turned up to hers, gravely + intent. No doubt she was telling them some story. He stood for a minute + and watched them, while the peaceful joy of the scene entered into his + heart. This, no doubt, a home full of such love and peace, was the best + thing life had got to give. It was God’s most precious benediction. ‘Lo, + thus shall a man be blessed who feareth the Lord.’ He turned and passed on + to the door. The servant showed him in, not, as he expected, to the + sitting-room he had just gazed at, but to Mr. Quinn’s study. + </p> + <p> + It was a desolate chamber. A plain wooden desk like a schoolmaster’s stood + in one corner, and upon it a feeble lamp. A bookcase surmounted a row of + cupboards along one wall. Its contents—Hyacinth had often looked + over them—were a many-volumed encyclopaedia, Macaulay’s ‘History of + England,’ Foxe’s ‘Book of Martyrs,’ a series entitled ‘Heroes of the + Reformation,’ and some bound volumes of a trade journal. Above the + chimneypiece hung two trout-rods, a landing-net, and an old gun. The grate + was fireless. It was a room obviously not loved by its owner. Neither + pleasure nor comfort was looked for in it. It was simply a place of escape + from the attractions of quiet ease when business overflowed the proper + office hours. Mr. Quinn rose from his desk when Hyacinth entered. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very glad to see you,’ he said; ‘I want to have a talk with you.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth waited while he arranged and rearranged some papers on the desk + in front of him. Mr. Quinn, although he had specially sent for Hyacinth, + seemed in no hurry to get to the subject of the interview. When he did + speak, it was evident from his tone that the important topic was still + postponed. + </p> + <p> + ‘How did you get on this week?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had nothing good to report. He took from his pocket the note-book + in which he entered his orders, and went over it. It contained an + attenuated list. Moreover, the harvest had been bad, and old debts very + difficult to collect. Mr. Quinn listened, apparently not very attentively, + and when the reading was over said: + </p> + <p> + ‘What you report this week is simply a repetition of the story of the last + six months. I did not expect it to be different. It makes the decision I + have to make a little more inevitable, that is all. Mr. Conneally, we have + been very good friends, and since you have been in my employment I have + been satisfied with you in every way. Now I am unable to employ you any + longer. I am giving up my business.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made an effort to speak, but Mr. Quinn held up his hand and + silenced him. + </p> + <p> + ‘This week,’ he continued, ‘I received news which settled the matter for + me. Jameson and Thorpe, the big drapers in Dublin, were my best customers + for certain goods. Last Monday they wrote that they had an offer of + blankets at a figure a long way below mine. I didn’t believe that articles + equal in quality to mine could be produced at the price, and wrote a hint + to that effect. I received—nothing could have been more courteous—a + sample of the blankets offered. Well, I admit that it was at least equal + to what I could supply in every way. I wrote again asking as a favour to + be supplied with the name of the competing firm. I got the answer to-day. + Mr. Thorpe wrote himself. The Robeen convent has undersold me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made another attempt to speak. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me finish,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘I had foreseen, of course, that this was + coming. I have no more capital to fall back upon. I do not mean to run + into debt. There is nothing for me but to dismiss my employées and shut + up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And then——’ + </p> + <p> + He knew he had no right to ask a question about the future, but the + thought of Mrs. Quinn and her children as he had seen them in the + dining-room almost forced him to inquire what was to happen to them. A + spasm of extreme pain crossed Mr. Quinn’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are thinking of my wife. It will be hard—yes, very hard. She + loved this place, her friends here, her garden, and all the quiet, + peaceful life we have lived. Well, there is to be an end of it. But don’t + look so desperate.’ He forced himself to smile as he spoke. ‘We shall not + starve or go to the workhouse. I have a knowledge of woollen goods if I + have nothing else, and I dare say I can get an appointment as foreman or + traveller for some big drapery house. But I may not be reduced to that. + There is a secretary wanted just now in the office of one of the Dublin + charitable societies. I mean to apply for the post. Canon Beecher and our + Bishop are both members of the committee, and I am sure will do their best + for me. The salary is not princely—a hundred and twenty pounds a + year, I think. But there, I ought not to be talking all this time about + myself. I must try and do something for you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I shall be all right. But I can’t bear to + think of you and Mrs. Quinn. Poverty like that in Dublin! Have you thought + what it means? A shabby little house in a crowded street, off at the back + of somewhere; dirt and stuffiness and vulgarity all around you. She can’t + be expected to stand it—or you either.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘my wife and I have been trying all our + lives to be Christians. Shall we receive good at the Lord’s hand and not + evil also? However it may be with me, I know that she will not fail in the + trial.’ + </p> + <p> + His face lit up as he spoke, and the smile on it was no longer forced, but + clear and brave. Hyacinth knew that he was once again in the presence of + that mysterious power which enables men and women to meet and conquer loss + and pain, against which every kind of misfortune beats in vain. His eyes + filled with tears as he took Mr. Quinn’s hand and bade him good-night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Hyacinth had three months’ work to do before he actually left Mr. Quinn’s + employment. He knew that at the end of that time he would be left + absolutely without income, and that it was necessary for him to look out + for some other situation. He reckoned up the remains of his original + capital, and found himself with little more than a hundred pounds to fall + back upon. Yet he did nothing. From time to time he bestirred himself, + pondered the newspaper advertisements of vacant situations, and mentally + resolved to commence his search at once. Always some excuse offered itself + to justify putting the unpleasant business off, and he allowed himself to + slip back into the quiet routine of life as if no catastrophe threatened + him. He was, indeed, far more troubled about the Quinns’ future than his + own, and when, at the end of April, Canon Beecher returned from Dublin + with the news that he had secured the secretaryship of the Church of + Ireland Scriptural Schools Society for Mr. Quinn, Hyacinth felt that his + mind was relieved of a great anxiety. That no such post had been + discovered for him did not cost him a thought. In spite of his spasmodic + efforts to goad himself into a condition of reasonable anxiety for his + future, there remained half consciously present in his mind a conviction + that somehow a way of getting sufficient food and clothes would offer + itself in due time. + </p> + <p> + The conviction was justified by the event. It was on Saturday evening that + the Canon returned with his good news, and on Sunday morning Hyacinth + received a letter from Miss Goold. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have no doubt heard,’ she wrote, ‘that we have got a new editor for + the Croppy—Patrick O’Dwyer, Mary’s brother. Of course, you remember + Mary and her unpoetical hysterics the morning after the Rotunda meeting. + The new editor is a splendid man. He has been on the staff of a New York + paper for the last five years, and thoroughly understands the whole + business. But that’s not the best of him. He hates England worse than I + do. I’m only a child beside him, bursting out into fits of temper now and + then, and cooling off again. He hates steadily, quietly, and intensely. + But even that is not all that is to be said. He has got brains—brains + enough, my dear Hyacinth, to make fools of you and me every day and all + day long. He has devised a new policy for Ireland. The plan is simplicity + itself, like all really great plans, and it <i>must</i> succeed. I won’t + go into it now, because I want you to come up to Dublin and see O’Dwyer. + He tells me that he needs somebody else besides himself on the staff of + the <i>Croppy</i>, which, by the way, is to be enlarged and improved. He + wants a man who can write a column a week in Irish, as well as an article + now and then in good strong plain English. I suggested your name to him, + and showed him some of the articles you had written. He was greatly + pleased with the one about O’Dowd’s cheap patriotism, and liked one or two + of the others. He just asked one question about you: “Does Mr. Conneally + hate England and the Empire, and everything English, from the Parliament + to the police barrack? It is this hatred which must animate the work.” I + said I thought you did. I told him how you had volunteered to fight for + the Boers, and about the day you nearly killed that blackguard Shea. He + seemed to think that was good enough, and asked me to write to you on the + subject. We can’t offer you a big salary. The editor himself is only to + get a hundred pounds a year for the present, and I am guaranteeing another + hundred for you. I am confident that I shan’t have to pay it for more than + six months. The paper is sure to go as it never went before, and in a few + years we shall be able to treble O’Dwyer’s salary and double yours. + Nothing like such a chance has ever offered itself in Irish history + before. Everything goes to show that this is our opportunity. England is + weaker than she has been for centuries, is clinging desperately to the + last tatters of her old prestige. She hasn’t a single statesman capable of + thinking or acting vigorously. Her Parliament is the laughingstock of + Europe. Her Irish policy may be summed up in four words—intrigue + with the Vatican. In Ireland the power of the faithful garrison is gone. + The Protestants in the North are sick of being fooled by one English party + after another. The landlords, or what’s left of them, are beginning to + discover that they have been bought and sold. The Bishops, England’s last + line of defence, are overreaching themselves, and we are within measurable + distance of the day when the Church will be put into her proper place. + There is not so much as a shoneen publican in a country town left who + believes in the ranting of O’Rourke and his litter of blind whelps. + Ireland is simply crying out for light and leading, and the <i>Croppy</i> + is going to give both. You always wanted to serve Ireland. Now I am + offering you the chance. I don’t say you ought to thank me, though you + will thank me to the day of your death. I don’t say that you have an + opportunity of becoming a great man. I know you, and I know a better way + of making sure of you than that. I say to you, Hyacinth Conneally, that we + want you—just <i>you</i> and nobody else. Ireland wants you.’ + </p> + <p> + The letter, especially the last part of it, was sufficiently ridiculous to + have moved Hyacinth to a smile. But it did no such thing. On the contrary, + its rhetoric excited and touched him. The flattery of the final sentences + elated him. The absurdity of the idea that Ireland needed him, a + fifth-rate office clerk, an out-of-work commercial traveller who had + failed to sell blankets and flannels, did not strike him at all. The + figure of Augusta Goold rose to his mind. She flashed before him, an + Apocalyptic angel, splended and terrible, trumpet-calling him to the last + great fight. He forgot in an instant the Quinns and their trouble. The + years of quietness in Ballymoy, the daily intercourse with gentle people, + the atmosphere of the religion in which he had lived, fell away from him + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + He sat absorbed in an ecstasy of joyful excitement until the jangling of + Canon Beecher’s church bell recalled him to common life again. It speaks + for the strength of the habits he had formed in Ballymoy that he rose + without hesitation and went to take his part in the morning service. + </p> + <p> + He sat down as usual beside Marion Beecher and her harmonium. He listened + to her playing until her father entered. He found himself gazing at her + when she stood up for the opening words of the service. He felt himself + strangely affected by the gentleness of her face and the slender beauty of + her form. When she knelt down he could not take his eyes off her. There + came over him an inexplicable softening, a relaxation of the tense + excitement of the morning. He thought of her kneeling there in the faded + shabby church Sunday after Sunday for years and years, when he was working + at hot pressure far away. He knew just how her eyes would look calmly, + trustfully up to the God she spoke to; how her soul would grow in + gentleness; how love would be the very atmosphere around her. And all the + while he would struggle and fight, with no inspiration except a bitter + hate. Suddenly there came on him a feeling that he could not leave her. + The very thought of separation was a fierce pain. A desire of her seized + on him like uncontrollable physical hunger. Wherever he might be, whatever + life might have in store for him, he knew that his heart would go back to + her restlessly, and remain unsatisfied without her. He understood that he + loved her. Canon Beecher’s voice came to him as if from an immense + distance: + </p> + <p> + ‘O God, make speed to save us.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he heard very clearly Marion’s sweet voice replying: + </p> + <p> + ‘O Lord, make haste to help us.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a faint shuffling, and the congregation rose to their feet. His + eyes were still on Marion, and now his whole body quivered with the force + of his newly-found love. She half turned and looked at him. For one + instant their eyes met, and he saw in hers a flash of recognition, then a + strange look of fear, and she turned away from him, flushed and trembling. + He saw that she had read his heart and knew his love. + </p> + <p> + ‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,’ read the + Canon heavily. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth’s heart swelled in him. His whole being seemed to throb with + exultation, and he responded in a voice he could not recognise for his. + </p> + <p> + ‘As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. + Amen.’ + </p> + <p> + Marion stood silent. Her head was bowed down, and her hands clasped tight + together. + </p> + <p> + Of the remainder of the morning’s service Hyacinth could never afterwards + remember anything. No doubt Canon Beecher read the Psalms and lessons and + prayers; no doubt he preached. Probably, also, hymns were sung, and Marion + played them, but he could not imagine how. It seemed quite impossible that + she could have touched the keys with her fingers, or that she could have + uttered any sound; yet no one had remarked the absence of hymns or even + noticed any peculiarity in their performance. Not till after the service + was over did he regain full consciousness of himself and his surroundings; + then he became exceedingly alert. He watched the Canon disappear into the + vestry, heard the congregation trample down the aisle, listened to Marion + playing a final voluntary. It seemed to him as he sat there waiting for + her to stop that she played much longer than usual. He could hear Mrs. + Beecher and Mr. Quinn talking in the porch, and every moment he expected + the Canon to appear. At last the music ceased, and the lid of the + harmonium was closed and locked. He stepped forward and took Marion’s + hands in his. + </p> + <p> + ‘Marion,’ he said, ‘I love you. It was only this morning that I found it + out, but I know—oh, I know—that I love you far, far more than + I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + The hand which lay in his grew cold, and the girl’s head was bowed so that + he could not see her face. He felt her tremble. + </p> + <p> + ‘Marion, Marion, I love you, love you, love you!’ + </p> + <p> + Then very slowly she raised her head and looked at him. He stooped to kiss + her lips, and felt her face flush and glow when he touched it. Then she + drew her hands from his and fled down the church to her mother. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth stood agape with wonder at the words which he had spoken. The + knowledge of his love had come on him like a sudden gust, and he only half + realized what he had done. He walked back to his lodgings, going over and + over the amazing words, recalling with flushed astonishment the kiss. Then + a chilling doubt beset him suddenly. Did Marion know how poor he was? + Never in his life had the fear of poverty or the desire of gain determined + Hyacinth’s plans. He knew very well that no such considerations would have + in any way affected his conduct towards Marion. Once he realized that he + loved her, the confession of his love was quite inevitable. Yet he felt + vaguely that he might be judged blameworthy. He had read a few novels, and + he knew that even the writers whose chief business it is to glorify the + passion of love do not dare to represent it as independent of money. He + knew, too, that many penniless heroes won admiration—he did not in + the least understand why they should—by silently deserting + affectionate women. He knew that kisses were immoral except for those who + possessed a modest competence. These authorized ethics of marriage + engagements were wholly incomprehensible to him, and it in no way + disquieted his conscience that he had bound Marion to him with his kiss; + yet he felt that she had a right to know what income he hoped to earn, and + what kind of home he would have to offer her. A hundred pounds a year + might be deemed insufficient, and he knew that, not being either a raven + or a lily, he could not count on finding food and clothes ready when he + wanted them. + </p> + <p> + The daughters of the Irish Church clergy, even of the dignitaries, are not + brought up in luxury. Still, they are most of them accustomed to a daily + supply of food—plain, perhaps, but sufficient—and will look + for as much in the homes of their husbands. A girl like Marion Beecher + does not expect to secure a position which will enable her to send her own + clothes to a laundress or hire a cook who can make pastry; but it is not + fair to ask her to wash the family’s blankets or to boil potatoes for a + pig. Probably her friends would think her lucky in marrying a curate or a + dispensary doctor with one hundred and fifty pounds a year, and the + prospect of one-third as much again after a while. But Hyacinth remembered + that he was poorer than any curate. He determined to put the matter + plainly before Marion without delay. + </p> + <p> + The Rectory door was opened for him by Elsie Beecher, and, in spite of her + wondering protests, Hyacinth walked into the dining-room and asked that + Marion should be sent to him. The room was empty, as he expected. He stood + and waited for her, deriving faint comfort and courage from the threadbare + carpet, patched tablecloth, and poor crazy chairs. They were strange + properties for a scene with possibilities of deep romance in it, but they + made his confession of poverty easier. + </p> + <p> + Marion entered at last and stood beside him. He neither took her hand nor + looked at her. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I told you to-day that I loved you,’ he said, ‘I ought to have told + you that I am very poor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am poorer even than you know. I am not in Mr. Quinn’s employment + any more. I have no settled income, and only a prospect of earning a very + small one.’ He paused. ‘I shall have to go away from Ballymoy. I must live + in Dublin. I do not think it is fair to ask you to marry me. I shall have + no more to live upon than——’ + </p> + <p> + She moved a step nearer to him and laid her hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at me,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes to her face, and saw again there, as he had seen in + church, the wonderful shining of love, which is stronger than all things + and holds poverty and hardship cheap. + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep looking at me still,’ she said. ‘Now tell me: Do you really think it + matters that you are poor? Do you think I care whether you have much or + little? Tell me.’ + </p> + <p> + He could not answer her, although he knew that there was only one answer + to her question. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think that I love money? Do you doubt that I love you?’ + </p> + <p> + Her voice sunk almost to a whisper as she spoke, and her eyes fell from + looking into his. Just as when he kissed her in the church, she flushed + suddenly, but this time she did not try to escape from him. Instead she + clung to his arm, and hid her face against his shoulder. He put his arms + round her and held her close. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I was a fool to come here thinking that my being poor + would matter. I might have known. Indeed, I think I did know even before I + spoke to you.’ + </p> + <p> + She had no answer except a long soft laugh, which was half smothered in + his arms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + On Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons Canon Beecher enjoyed the + privilege of a fire in his study. He was supposed to be engaged at these + seasons in the preparation of his sermons, a serious and exacting work + which demanded solitude and profound quiet. In earlier years he really had + prepared his sermons painfully, but long practice brings to the preacher a + certain fatal facility. Old ideas are not improved by being clothed in new + phrases, and of new ideas—a new idea will occasionally obtrude + itself even on the Christian preacher—the Canon was exceedingly + mistrustful. The study was an unexciting and comparatively comfortable + room. The firelight on winter afternoons played pleasantly on the dim gold + backs of the works of St. Augustine, a fine folio edition bequeathed to + Mrs. Beecher by a scholarly uncle, which reposed undisturbed along a lower + shelf. Adventurous rays occasionally explored a faded print of the Good + Shepherd which hung above the books, and gleamed upon the handle of the + safe where the parish registers and church plate were stored. The quiet + and the process of digesting his mid-day dinner frequently tempted the + Canon to indulge in a series of pleasant naps on Sunday afternoons. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth tapped at the study door and entered, the room was almost + dark, and the sermon preparation, if proceeding at all, can have got no + further than the preliminary concatenation of ideas. The Canon, however, + was aggressively, perhaps suspiciously, wide awake. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is that?’ he asked. ‘Oh, Conneally, it is you. I am very glad to see + you. Curiously enough, I thought of going down to call on you this + afternoon. I wanted to have a talk with you. I dare say you have come up + to consult me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was astonished. How could anyone have guessed what he came about? + Had Marion told her father already? + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a sad business,’ the Canon went on—’ very distressing and + perplexing indeed. But so far as you personally are concerned, Conneally, + I cannot regard it as an unmixed misfortune. You were meant for something + better, if I may say so, than selling blankets. Now, I have a plan for + your future, which I talked over last week with an old friend of yours. + Now that something has been settled about the Quinns, we must all give our + minds to your affairs.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Hyacinth understood that Canon Beecher expected to be consulted about + his future plans, and even had some scheme of his own in mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I shall be very glad of your help and advice, although + I think I have decided about what I am going to do. It was not on that + subject I came to speak to you to-day, but on another, more important, I + think, for you and for me and for Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For Marion?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ought to tell you at once that I love your daughter Marion, and I am + sure that she loves me. I want to marry her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy! I had not the slightest idea of this. It is one of the most + extraordinary things—or perhaps extraordinary is not exactly the + proper word—one of the most surprising things I——’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon stopped abruptly and sat stroking his chin with his forefinger + in the effort to adjust his mind to the new situation presented to it. It + was characteristic of the man that the thought of Hyacinth’s poverty was + not the first which presented itself. Indeed, Canon Beecher was one of + those unreasonable Christians who are actually convinced of the truth of + certain paradoxical sayings in the Gospel about wealth and poverty. He + believed that there were things of more importance in life than the + possession of money. Fortunately, such Christians are rare, for their + absurd creed forms a standing menace to the existence of Church and sect + alike. Fortunately also, ecclesiastical authorities have sufficient wisdom + to keep these eccentrics in the background, confining them as far as + possible to remote and obscure places. If ever a few of them escape into + the open and find means of expressing themselves, the whole machinery of + modern religion will become dislocated, and the Church will very likely + relapse into the barbarity of the Apostolic age. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe, Conneally,’ said the Canon at last, ‘that you are a good man. + I do not merely mean that you are moral and upright, but that you + sincerely desire to follow in the footsteps of the Master.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked as if he wanted some kind of answer, at least a confirmation of + his belief. Fresh from his interview with Marion, and having the Canon’s + eyes upon him, it did not seem impossible to Hyacinth to answer yes. Even + the thought of the work he was to engage in with Miss Goold and Patrick + O’Dwyer seemed to offer no ground for hesitation. Was he not enlisting + with them to take part in the great battle? He had never ceased to believe + his father’s words: ‘And the battlefield is Ireland—our dear Ireland + which we love!’ He felt for the moment that he was altogether prepared to + make the confession of faith the Canon required. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am on His side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you love Marion? Are you quite sure of that? Are you certain that + this is not a passing fancy?’ + </p> + <p> + This time Hyacinth had no doubt whatever about his answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am as certain of my love as I am of anything in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad. I am very glad that this has happened—for your sake, + because I have always liked you; also for Marion’s sake. I shall see you + happy because you love one another, and because you both love the Lord. I + ask no more than those two things. But I must go and tell my wife at once. + She will be glad, too.’ + </p> + <p> + He rose and went to the door. With his hand stretched out to open it he + stopped, struck by a sudden thought. + </p> + <p> + ‘By the way, I ought to ask you—if you mean to be married—have + you any—I mean it is necessary—I hope you won’t think I am + laying undue stress upon such matters, but I really—I mean we really + ought to consider what you are to live upon.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the prospect of imparting the news to his wife which forced this + speech from him. Mrs. Beecher was, indeed, the least worldly of women. Did + she not marry the Canon, then a mere curate, on the slenderest income, and + bear him successively five babies in defiance of common prudence? But it + had fallen to her lot to order the affairs of the household, and she had + learnt that the people who give you bread and beef demand, after an + interval, more or less money in exchange. It was likely that, after her + first rapture had subsided, she would make some inquiry about Hyacinth’s + income and prospects. The Canon felt he ought to be prepared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course, I have lost my position with Mr. Quinn. You know that. But I + have an offer of work which I hope will lead on to something better, and + will enable me in a short time to earn enough money to marry on. You know—or + perhaps you don’t, for I am afraid I never told you‘—he remembered + that he had carefully concealed his connection with the <i>Croppy</i> from + his friends at Ballymoy, and paused—‘I have done some little + writing. Oh, nothing very much—not a book, or anything like that, + only a few articles for the press. Well, a friend of mine has got me the + offer of a post in connection with a weekly paper. It is not a very great + thing in itself just now, but it may improve, and there is always the + prospect of picking up other work of the same kind.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon, who had never seen even an abstract of one of his own sermons + in print, had a proper reverence for the men who guide the world’s thought + through the press. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very good, Conneally—very satisfactory indeed. I always + knew you had brains. But why did you never tell me what you were doing? I + should have been deeply interested in anything you wrote.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth’s conscience smote him. + </p> + <p> + ‘The truth is, that I was sure you wouldn’t approve of the paper I wrote + for. It is the <i>Croppy</i>, the organ of the extreme left wing of the + Nationalist party. It is Miss Goold—Augusta Goold—who now + offers me work on that paper. She says—— But you had better + read what she says for yourself. Then you will know the worst of it.’ + </p> + <p> + He took the letter from his pocket. The Canon lit a candle and read it + through slowly and attentively. When he had finished he laid it upon the + table and sat down. Hyacinth waited in extreme anxiety for what was to + come. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not like the cause you mean to work for or the people you call your + friends. I would rather see my daughter’s husband doing almost anything + else in the world. I would be happier if you proposed to break stones upon + the roadside. You know what my political opinions are. I regard the <i>Croppy</i> + as a disloyal and seditious paper, bent upon fostering a dangerous + spirit.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth listened patiently. He had steeled himself against the hearing of + some such words, and was determined not to be moved to argument or + self-defence except as a last resort. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will at least give me credit for honestly + acting in accordance with my convictions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure—quite sure—that you are honest, and believe that + your cause is the right one. I recognise, too, though this is a very + difficult thing to do, that you have every right to form and hold your own + political opinions. It seems to me that they are very wrong and very + mischievous, but it is quite possible that I am mistaken and prejudiced. + In any case, I am not called upon to refuse you my affection or to + separate you from my daughter because we differ about politics.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth breathed a great sigh of relief. He looked at the Canon in wonder + and admiration. It had been beyond hope that a man grown gray in a narrow + faith, a faith in which for centuries religion and politics had been + inextricably blended, could have risen in one clear flight above the mire + of prejudice. It seemed, even after he had spoken, impossible that in + Ireland, where political opponents believe each other to be thieves and + murderers, there could be found even one man, and he from the least + emancipated class of all, who could understand and practise tolerance. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ went on the Canon, speaking very slowly, and with evident + difficulty, ‘that I have no right to put you away from me because of your + political opinions. But there is something here ‘—he touched Miss + Goold’s letter—’ from which I must by all means try to save you. + Will you let me speak to you, not as Marion’s father, not even as your + friend, but as Christ’s ambassador set here to watch for your soul? But I + need not excuse myself for what I am about to say. You will at least + listen to me patiently.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up Miss Goold’s letter and searched through it for a short time; + then he read aloud: + </p> + <p> + ‘“He just asked one question about you: Does Mr. Conneally hate England + and the Empire and everything English, from the Parliament to the police + barrack? For it is this hatred which must animate our work. I said I + thought you did.” Now consider what those words mean. You are to dedicate + your powers, the talents God has given you, to preaching a gospel of hate. + This is not a question of politics. I am ready to believe that in the + contest of which our unhappy country is the battle-ground a man may be + either on your side or mine, and yet be a follower of Christ. It is + impossible to think that anyone can deliberately, with his eyes open, + accept hatred for the inspiration of his life and still be true to Him.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was greatly moved by the solemnity with which the Canon spoke. + There was that in him which witnessed to the truth of what he heard. Yet + he refused to be convinced. When he spoke it was clear that he was not + addressing his companion, for his eyes were fixed upon the picture of the + Good Shepherd, faintly illuminated by the candle light. He desired to + order his own thought on the dilemma, to justify, if he could, his own + position to himself. ‘It is true that the Gospel of Christ is a Gospel of + love. Yet there are circumstances in which it is wrong to follow it. Is it + possible to rouse our people out of their sordid apathy, to save Ireland + for a place among the nations, except by preaching a mighty indignation + against the tyranny which has crushed us to the dust?’ + </p> + <p> + He felt that Canon Beecher’s eyes never left him for a moment while he + spoke. He looked up, and saw in them an intense pleading. There stole over + him a desire to yield, to submit himself to this appealing tenderness. He + defended himself desperately against his weakness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not choosing the pleasanter way. It would be easier for me to give + up the fight for Ireland, to desert the beaten side, to forget the lost + cause.’ He turned to Canon Beecher, speaking almost fiercely: ‘Do you + think it is a small thing for me to surrender your friendship, and perhaps—perhaps + to lose Marion? Is there not <i>some</i> of the nobility of sacrifice in + refusing to listen to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot argue with you. No doubt you are cleverer than I am. But I <i>know</i> + this—God is love, and only he who dwelleth in love dwelleth in God.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I do love: I love Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah yes; but He says, “Love your enemies.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I will not have Him for my God.’ + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he spoken than he started and grew suddenly cold. It was no + doubt some trick of memory, but he believed that he heard very faintly + from far off a remembered voice: + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you be sure to know the good side from the bad, the Captain from the + enemy.’ + </p> + <p> + They were the last words his father had said to him. They had passed + unregarded when they were spoken, but lingered unthought of in some recess + of his memory. Now they came on him full of meaning, insistent for an + answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have chosen,’ said the Canon. + </p> + <p> + He had chosen. Could he be sure that he had chosen right, that he knew the + good side from the bad? + </p> + <p> + ‘You have chosen, and I have no more to say. Only, before it becomes + impossible for you and me to kneel together, I ask you to let me pray with + you once more. You can do this because you still believe He hears us, + although you have decided to walk no more with Him.’ + </p> + <p> + They knelt together, and Hyacinth, numbly indifferent, felt his hand + grasped and held. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Christ,’ said Canon Beecher, ‘this child of Thine has chosen to live by + hatred rather than by love. Do Thou therefore remove love from him, lest + it prove a hindrance to him on the way on which he goes. Let the memory of + the cross be blotted out from his mind, so that he may do successfully + that which he desires.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth wrenched his hand free from the grasp which held it, and flung + himself forward across the table at which they knelt. Except for his sobs + and his choking efforts to subdue them, there was silence in the room. + Canon Beecher rose from his knees and stood watching him, his lips moving + with unspoken supplication. At last Hyacinth also rose and stood, calm + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have conquered me,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘My son, my son, this is joy indeed! All along I knew He could not fail + you. But I have not conquered you. The Lord Jesus has saved you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know,’ said Hyacinth slowly, ‘whether I have been saved or lost. + I am not sure even now that I know the good side from the bad. But I do + know that I cannot live without the hope of being loved by Him. Whether it + is the better part to which I resign myself I cannot tell. No doubt He + knows. As for me, if I have been forced to make a great betrayal, if I am + to live hereafter very basely—and I think I am—at least I have + not cut myself off from the opportunity of loving Him.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + Canon Beecher took no notice of Hyacinth’s last speech. He had returned + with amazing swiftness and ease from the region of high emotion to the + commonplace. Excursions to the shining peaks of mystical experience are + for most men so rare that the glory leaves them with dazzled eyes, and + they walk stumblingly for a while along the dull roads of the world. But + Canon Beecher, in the course of his pleading with Hyacinth, had been only + in places very well known to him. The presence chamber of the King was to + him also the room of a familiar friend. It was no breathless descent from + the green hill of the cross to the thoroughfare of common life. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, my dear boy,’ he said, ‘we really must go and talk to my wife and + Marion. Besides, I must tell you the plan I have made for you—the + plan I was just going to speak about when you put it out of my head with + the news of your love-making.’ + </p> + <p> + For Hyacinth a great effort was necessary before he could get back to his + normal state. His hands were trembling violently. His forehead and hair + were damp with sweat. His whole body was intensely cold. His mind was + confused, and he listened to what was said to him with only the vaguest + apprehension of its meaning. The Canon laid a firm hand upon his arm, and + led him away from the study. In the passage he stopped, and asked Hyacinth + to go back and blow out the candle which still burned on the study table. + </p> + <p> + ‘And just put some turf on the fire,’ he added; ‘I don’t want it to go + out.’ + </p> + <p> + The pause enabled Hyacinth to regain his self-command, and the performance + of the perfectly ordinary acts required of him helped to bring him back + again to common life. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the drawing-room it was evident that Mrs. Beecher had + already heard the news, and was, in fact, discussing the matter eagerly + with Marion. She sprang up, and hastened across the room to meet them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am so glad,’ she said—‘so delighted! I am sure you and Marion + will be happy together.’ + </p> + <p> + She took Hyacinth’s hands in hers, and held them while she spoke, then + drew nearer to him and looked up in his face expectantly. A fearful + suspicion seized him that on an occasion of the kind she might consider it + right to kiss him. It was with the greatest difficulty that he suppressed + a wholly unreasonable impulse to laugh aloud. Apparently the need of such + affectionate stimulant was strong in Mrs. Beecher. When Hyacinth hung + back, she left him for her husband, put her arms round his neck, and + kissed him heartily on both cheeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it fortunate,’ she said, ‘that you saw Dr. Henry last week while + you were in Dublin? You little thought how important that talk with him + was going to turn out—I mean, of course, important for us. It always + was important for Mr.—I mean for Hyacinth.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon seemed a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat somewhat + unnecessarily, and then said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t mentioned that matter yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not mentioned Dr. Henry’s offer! Then, what have you been talking about + all this time?’ + </p> + <p> + It did not seem necessary to tell Mrs. Beecher all that had been said, or + to repeat the scene in the study for her benefit. The Canon cleared his + throat again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was in Dublin last week attending a meeting of the Scriptural Schools + Society, and I met Dr. Henry. We were talking about the Quinns. I told you + that Mr. Quinn is to be the new secretary of the society, didn’t I? Dr. + Henry knows Mr. Quinn slightly, and was greatly interested in him. Your + name naturally was mentioned. Dr. Henry seems to have taken a warm + interest in you when you were in college, and to have a very high opinion + of your abilities. He did not know what had become of you, and was very + pleased to hear that you were a friend of ours.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth knew at once what was coming—knew what Canon Beecher’s plan + for his future was, and why he was pleased with it; understood how Mrs. + Beecher came to describe this conversation with Dr. Henry as fortunate. He + waited for the rest of the recital, vaguely surprised at his own want of + feeling. + </p> + <p> + ‘I told him,’ the Canon went on, eying Hyacinth doubtfully, ‘that you had + lost your employment here. I hope you don’t object to my having mentioned + that. I am sure you wouldn’t if you had heard how sympathetically he spoke + of you. He assured me that he was most anxious to help you in any way in + his power. He just asked one question about you.’ Hyacinth started. Where + had he heard those identical words before? Oh yes, they were in Miss + Goold’s letter. Patrick O’Dwyer also had just asked one question about + him. He smiled faintly as the Canon went on: ‘“Is he fit, spiritually fit, + to be ordained? For it is the desire to serve God which must animate our + work.” I said I thought you were. I told him how you sang in our choir + here, and how fond you seemed of our quiet life, and what a good fellow + you are. You see, I did not know then that I was praising the man who is + to be my son-in-law. He asked me to remind you of a promise he had once + made, and to say that he was ready to fufil it. I understood him to mean + that he would recommend you to any Bishop you like for ordination.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth remained silent. He felt that in surrendering his work for the <i>Croppy</i> + he surrendered also his right to make any choice. He was ready to be + shepherded into any position, like a sheep into a pen. And he had no + particular wish to resist. He saw a simple satisfaction in Mrs. Beecher’s + face and a beautiful joy in Marion’s eyes. It was impossible for him to + disappoint them. He smiled a response to Mrs. Beecher’s kindly triumph. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t that splendid! Now you and Marion will be able to be married quite + soon, and I do dislike long engagements. Of course, you will be very poor + at first, but no poorer than we were. And Marion is not afraid of being + poor—are you, dear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is just what I have been saying to him,’ said Marion; ‘isn’t it, + Hyacinth? Of course I am not afraid. I have always said that if I ever + married I should like to marry a clergyman, and if one does that one is + sure to be poor.’ + </p> + <p> + Evidently there was no doubt in either of their minds that Hyacinth would + accept Dr. Henry’s offer. Nor had he any doubt himself. The thing seemed + too inevitable to be anything but right. Only on Canon Beecher’s face + there lingered a shadow of uncertainty. Hyacinth saw it, and relieved his + mind at once. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall write to Dr. Henry to-night and thank him. I shall ask him to try + and get me a curacy as soon as possible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said the Canon. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ added Hyacinth, ‘that I should prefer getting work in England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, why,’ said Mrs. Beecher. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay in Ireland! + and then we might have Marion somewhere within reach.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said the Canon, ‘we must let Hyacinth decide for himself. I am + sure he knows what is wisest for him to do.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was not at all sure that he knew what was wisest, and he was + quite certain that he had not decided for himself in any matter of the + slightest importance. He had suggested an English curacy in the vague hope + that it might be easier there to forget his hopes and dreams for Ireland. + It seemed to him, too, that a voluntary exile, of which he could not think + without pain, might be a kind of atonement for the betrayal of his old + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + The Canon followed him to the door when he left. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy’—there was a break in his voice as he spoke—’ my + dear boy, you have made me very happy. I am sure that you will not enter + upon the work of the ministry from any unworthy motive. The call will + become clearer to you by degrees. I mean the inward call. The outward + call, the leading of circumstance, has already made abundantly plain the + way you ought to walk in. The other will come—the voice which brings + assurance and peace when it speaks.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at him wistfully. There seemed very little possibility of + anything like assurance for him, and only such peace as might be gained by + smothering the cries with which his heart assailed him. The Canon held his + hand and wrung it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can understand why you want to go to England. Your political opinions + will interfere very little with your work there. Here, of course, it would + be different. Yes, your choice is certainly wise, for nothing must be + allowed to hinder your work. “Laying aside every weight,” you remember, + “let us run the race.” Yes, I understand.’ + </p> + <p> + It was perfectly clear to Hyacinth that the Canon did not understand in + the least. It was not likely that anyone ever would understand. + </p> + <p> + Gradually his despondency gave way before the crowding in of thoughts of + satisfaction. He was to have Marion, to live with her, to love her, and be + loved by her as long as they both lived. He saw life stretching out before + him, a sunlit, pleasant journey in Marion’s company. It did not seem to + him that any trouble could be really bad, any disappointment intolerable, + any toil oppressive with her love for an atmosphere round him. He + believed, too, that the work he was undertaking was a good work, perhaps + the highest and noblest kind of work there is to be done in the world. + From this conviction also came a glow of happiness. Yet there kept + recurring chill shudderings of self-reproach. Something within him kept + whispering that he had bartered his soul for happiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have chosen the easier and therefore the baser way,’ he said. ‘I have + shrunk from toil and pain. I have refused to make the sacrifice demanded + of me.’ + </p> + <p> + He went back again to the story of his father’s vision. For a moment it + seemed quite clear that he had deliberately refused the call to the great + fight, that he had judged himself unworthy, being cowardly and selfish in + his heart. Then he remembered that the Captain of whom his father had told + him was no one else but Christ, the same Christ of whom Canon Beecher + spoke, the Good Shepherd whose love he had discovered to be the greatest + need of all. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must have Him,’ he said—‘I must have Him—and Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + Again with the renewed decision came a glow of happiness and a sense of + rest, until there rose, as if to smite him, the thought of Ireland—of + Ireland, poor, derided of strangers, deserted by her sons, roped in as a + prize-ring where selfish men struggle ignobly for sordid gains. The + children of the land fled from it sick with despair. Its deserted houses + were full of all doleful things. Cormorants and the daughters of the owl + lodged in the lintels of them. + </p> + <p> + Sullen desolation was on the threshold, while satyrs cried to their + fellows across tracts of brown rush-grown land. Aliens came to hiss and + passed by wagging their hands. Over all was the monotony of the gray sky, + descending and still descending with clouds that came upon the land, + mistily folding it in close embraces of death. Voices sounded far off and + unreal through the gloom. The final convulsive struggles of the nation’s + life grew feebler and fewer. Of all causes Ireland’s seemed the most + hopelessly lost. Was he, too, going to forsake her? He felt that in spite + of all the good promised him there would always hang over his life a gloom + that even Marion’s love would not disperse, the heavy shadow of Ireland’s + Calvary. For Marion there would be no such darkness, nor would Marion + understand it. But surely Christ understood. Words of His crowded to the + memory. ‘When He beheld the city He wept over it, saying, Oh, Jerusalem, + Jerusalem!’ Most certainly He understood this, as He understood all human + emotion. He, too, had yearned over a nation’s fall, had felt the + heartbreak of the patriot. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have chosen Him,’ he said at last. ‘Once having caught a glimpse of + Him, I could not do without Him. He understands it all, and He has given + me Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + It was a brilliant July day, and the convent at Robeen was decked for a + festival. The occasion was a very great one. Cloth of gold hung in the + chapel, the entrance-hall was splendid with flowers, and the whole white + front of the buildings had put on signs of holiday. Indeed, this festival + was unique, the very greatest day in the history of the sisterhood. + Easter, Christmas, and the saints’ days recurred annually in their proper + order, and the emotions they brought with them were no doubt familiar to + holy ladies whose business it was to live in close touch with the other + world. But on this day the great of the earth, beings much more + unapproachable, as a rule, than the saints, were to visit the convent. + Honour was to be paid to ladies whose magnificence was guaranteed by + worldly titles; to the Proconsuls of the far-off Imperial power, holders + of the purse-strings of the richest nation upon earth; to Judges + accustomed to sit in splendid robes and awful head-dresses, pronouncing + the doom of malefactors; to a member of the Cabinet, a very mighty man, + though untitled; and quite possibly—a glittering hope—to the + Lord Lieutenant himself. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore no wonder that the nuns had decked their convent with all + possible splendour. On each side of the iron gateway was a flag-post. From + the top of one fluttered the green banner of Ireland, with its gold harp + and a great crown over it. From the other hung the Union Jack, emblem of + that marriage of nationalities for whose consummation eight centuries have + not sufficed. It was hoisted upside down—not with intentional + disrespect, but because Sister Gertrude, who superintended this part of + the decorations, had long ago renounced the world, and did not remember + that the tangled crosses had a top or a bottom to them. Between the posts + hung a festoon of signalling flags, long pointed strips of bunting with + red balls or blue on them. The central streamer just tipped as it + fluttered the top of the iron cross which marked the religious nature of + the gateway. The straight gravel walk inside was covered with red baize, + and on each side of it were planted tapering poles, round which crimson + and white muslin circled in alternate stripes, giving them the appearance + of huge old-fashioned sugar-sticks. These added to the gaiety of the + scene, though it cannot be supposed that they were of any actual use. The + most bewildered visitor was hardly likely to stray off the red baize or + miss his way to the door in front of him. Within the great entrance-hall + were palms and flowering shrubs in pots or tubs. The mosaic flooring, + imported from Italy, and a source of pride to all the Sisters, shone with + much washing and polishing. The Madonna with the blue eyes and the golden + crown, before which even Bishops crossed themselves, was less in evidence + than usual, for the expected guests were mostly heretics. She stood + retired behind the flower-pots, and veiled her benignity with the leaves + of palms. + </p> + <p> + Right and left of the hall stretched corridors, whose shining parquet + invited the curious to explore the working-rooms and eating-rooms which + lay beyond. The door of the chapel stood open, and offered a vision of + simpering angels crowding the canvas of the altar-piece, a justly-admired + specimen of German religious art. Before it, dimly seen, two nuns knelt, + types of conventual piety, absorbed in spiritual contemplation amid the + tumult of the world’s invasion of their sanctuary. Another door led to the + garden. Here a fountain played into a great stone basin, and neat gravel + walks intersected each other at sharp angles among flower-beds. The grass + which lay around the maze of paths was sacred as a rule, even from the + list slippers of the nuns, but to-day booths stood on it like stalls at a + charity bazaar, hung with tweeds, blankets, and stockings. A tall Calvary + lowered incongruously over one. An inferior Madonna, deposed from her old + station in the entrance-hall, presided in a weather-beaten blue robe over + another. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the garden, blocked off from it by a white wall, lay the factory + itself, the magnet which was drawing the great of the earth to the + nunnery. Here were the workers, all of them bright young women, smiling + pleasantly and well washed for the occasion. They were dressed in neat + violet petticoats and white blouses, with shawls thrown back from their + heads, a glorified presentment of the Mayo woman’s working dress. Here and + there, a touch of realism creditable to the Reverend Mother’s talent for + stage management, one sat in bare feet—not, of course, dust or mud + stained, as bare feet are apt to be in Connaught, but clean. The careful + observer of detail might have been led to suppose that the Sisters + improved upon the practice of the Holy Father himself, and daily washed + the feet of the poor. + </p> + <p> + Everywhere fresh-complexioned, gentle-faced nuns flitted silently about. + The brass crosses pendent over their breasts relieved with a single + glitter the sombre folds of their robes. Snowy coifs, which had cost the + industrial schoolgirls of a sister house hours of labour and many tears, + shone, glazed and unwrinkled, round their heads. Even the youngest of them + had acquired the difficult art of walking gracefully with her hands folded + in front of her. + </p> + <p> + At about two o’clock the visitors began to arrive, although the train from + Dublin which was to bring the very elect was not due for another + half-hour. Lady Geoghegan, grown pleasantly stout and cheerfully + benignant, came by a local train, and rejoiced the eyes of beholders with + a dress made of one of the convent tweeds. Sir Gerald followed her, + awkward and unwilling. He had been dragged with difficulty from his books + and the society of his children, and was doubtful whether a cigar in a + nunnery garden might not be counted sacrilege. With them was a wonderful + person—an English priest: it was thus he described himself—whom + Lady Geoghegan had met in Yorkshire. His charming manners and good Church + principles had won her favour and earned him the holiday he was enjoying + at Clogher House. He was arrayed in a pair of gray trousers, a white + shirt, and a blazer with the arms of Brazenose College embroidered on the + pocket, his sacerdotal character being marked only by his collar. He + leaped gaily from the car which brought them from the station, and, as he + assisted his hostess to alight, amazed the little crowd around the gate by + chaffing the driver in an entirely unknown tongue. The good man had an ear + for music, and plumed himself on his ability to pick up any dialect he + heard—Scotch, Yorkshire, or Irish brogue. The driver was bewildered, + but smiled pleasantly. He realized that the gentleman was a foreigner, and + since the meaning of his speech was not clear, it was quite likely that he + might be hazy about the value of money and the rates of car hire. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess of Drummin came in her landau. Like Lady Geoghegan, she marked + the national and industrial nature of the occasion in her attire. At much + personal inconvenience, for the day was warm, she wore a long cloak of + rich brown tweed, adorned with rows of large leather-covered buttons. Lady + Josephine Maguire fluttered after her. She had bidden her maid disguise a + dress, neither Irish nor homespun, with as much Carrickmacross lace as + could be attached to it. Lord Eustace, who represented his father, + appeared in all the glory of a silk hat and a frock-coat. He eyed Sir + Gerald’s baggy trousers and shabby wideawake with contempt, and turned + away his eyes from beholding the vanity of obviously bad form when he came + face to face with the English priest in his blazer. + </p> + <p> + A smiling nun took charge of each party as it arrived. Lady Geoghegan + plied hers with questions, and received a series of quite uninforming + answers. Her husband followed her, bent principally upon escaping from the + precincts if he could. Already he was bored, and he knew that speeches + from great men were in store for him if he were forced to linger. The + Duchess of Drummin eyed each object presented to her notice gravely + through long-handled glasses, but gave her attendant nun very little + conversational help. Lady Josephine made every effort to be intelligent, + and inquired in a dormitory where the looking-glasses were. She was amazed + to hear that the nuns did, or failed to do, their hair—the + head-dresses concealed the result of their efforts—without mirrors. + Lord Eustace was preoccupied. Amid his unaccustomed surroundings he walked + uncertain whether to keep his hat on his head or hold it in his hands. The + English priest, whose name was Austin, got detached from Lady Geoghegan, + and picked up a stray nun for himself. She took him, by his own request, + straight to the chapel. He crossed himself with elaborate care on + entering, and knelt for a moment before the altar. The nun was delighted. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you, too, are a Catholic?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly,’ he replied briskly—‘an English Catholic.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! many of our priests go to England. Perhaps you have met Father + O’Connell. He is on a London mission.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Mr. Austin, ‘I do not happen to have met him. My church is in + Yorkshire.’ + </p> + <p> + The nun gazed at him in amazement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your church! Then you are—— + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am a priest.’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes slowly travelled over him. They began at the gray trousers, + passed to the blazer, resting a moment on the college arms, which + certainly suggested the ecclesiastical, and remained fixed on his collar. + After all, why should she, a humble nun, doubt his word when he said he + was a priest? Perhaps he might belong to some order of which she had never + heard. Eccentricities of costume might be forced on the English clergy by + Protestant intolerance. She smothered her uncertainty, and took him at his + word. They went together into the garden. Mr. Austin took off his hat + before the tarnished Madonna, and crossed himself again. The nun’s doubts + vanished. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to buy some of this tweed. Is it + for sale?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, certainly. Sister Aloysia will sell it to you. We are so glad, so + very glad, when anyone will buy what our poor workers make. It is all a + help to the good cause.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now this,’ said Mr. Austin, fingering a bright-green cloth, ‘would make a + nice lady’s dress. Don’t you think so?’ + </p> + <p> + The nun cast down her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know, Father, about dresses. Sister Aloysia, the Reverend Father + wants to buy tweed to make a dress for ‘—she hesitated; perhaps it + was his niece, but he looked young to have a full-grown niece—‘for + his sister.’ + </p> + <p> + Sister Aloysia looked round her, puzzled. She saw no Reverend Father. + </p> + <p> + ‘This,’ said the other, ‘is Father—Father——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Austin,’ he helped her out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Austin,’ added the nun. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you wish,’ said Sister Aloysia, ‘to buy a dress for your sister?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not for my sister,’ said Mr. Austin—‘for my wife.’ + </p> + <p> + Both nuns started back as if he had tried to strike them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your wife! Your wife! Then you are a Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘I detest all Protestants. I am a Catholic—an + Anglo-Catholic.’ + </p> + <p> + Neither of the nuns had ever heard of an Anglo-Catholic before. What + manner of religion such people might profess was doubtful and unimportant. + One thing was clear—this was not a priest in any sense of the word + which they could recognise. They distrusted him, as a wolf, not certainly + in the clothing, but using the language, of a sheep. The situation became + embarrassing. Mr. Austin prepared to bow himself away. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘I shall ask Lady Geoghegan’—he rolled the title + out emphatically; it formed a salve to his wounded dignity—‘I shall + ask Lady Geoghegan to purchase the tweed for me. I must be on the look-out + for a friend who promised to meet me here this afternoon—a young man + whom I contemplate engaging as my curate. I am most particular in the + choice of a curate, and should, of course, prefer a public school and + ‘Varsity man. I need scarcely say that I refer only to Oxford and + Cambridge as the Universities. As a rule, I do not care for Irishmen, but + on the recommendation of my friend Dr. Henry, I am willing to consider + this Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Mr. Austin that a preference for the English Universities, + the friendship of a distinguished professor, a contempt for the mere + Irishman, and a titled hostess ought to restore the respect he had + forfeited by the mention of his wife. Curiously enough, and this shows the + disadvantage of a monastic seclusion from the world, the nuns remained + unimpressed. The conception of a married priest was too much for them. As + he walked away Mr. Austin heard Sister Aloysia murmur: + </p> + <p> + ‘How very indecent!’ + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the train from Dublin had arrived, and Mr. Austin, when he + returned after his interview with Hyacinth, found that even the two nuns + he had victimized had forgotten him in the excitement of gazing at more + important visitors. Mr. Justice Saunders, a tall, stout man with a florid + face, made a tour of the factory under the charge of one of the senior + Sisters. He took little notice of what he was shown, being mainly bent on + explaining to his escort how he came to be known in legal circles as + ‘Satan Saunders.’ Afterwards he added a tale of how he had once bluffed a + crowd in an out-of-the-way country town into giving three cheers for the + Queen. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re all loyal here,’ he said. ‘I saw the Union Jack flying over the + gate as I came in.’ + </p> + <p> + The nun smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile, and the Judge, watching her, was + struck by her innocence and simplicity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ she said, ‘the Church must always be loyal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I’m not so sure of that. I’ve met a few firebrands of priests in my + time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, those!’ she said with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘You must not think + of them. It will always be easy to keep them in order when the time comes. + They spring from the cabins. What can you expect of them? But the Church—— + Can the Church fail of respect for the Sovereign?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clifford and Mr. Davis followed Judge Saunders. They were members of + the Congested Districts Board, and it was clear from the manner of the nun + who escorted them that they were guests of very considerable importance in + her estimation. Mr. Clifford was an Englishman who had been imported to + assist in governing Ireland because he was married to the sister of the + Chief Secretary’s wife. He was otherwise qualified for the task by + possessing a fair knowledge of the points of a horse. He believed that he + knew Ireland and the Irish people thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + His colleague, Mr. Davis, was a man of quite a different stamp. The son of + a Presbyterian farmer in County Tyrone, he had joined the Irish + Parliamentary party, and made himself particularly objectionable in + Westminster. He had devoted his talents to discovering and publishing the + principles upon which appointments to lucrative posts are made by the + officials in Dublin Castle. It was found convenient at last to provide him + with a salary and a seat on the Congested Districts Board. Thus he found + himself engaged in ameliorating the lot of the Connaught peasants. Mr. + Clifford used to describe him as ‘a bit of a bounder—in fact, a + complete outsider—but no fool.’ His estimate of Mr. Clifford was + perhaps less complimentary. + </p> + <p> + ‘Every business,’ he used to say, ‘must have at least one gentleman in it + to do the entertaining and the dining out. We have Mr. Clifford. He’s a + first-rate man at one of the Lord Lieutenant’s balls.’ + </p> + <p> + A professor from Trinity College was one of the two guests conducted by + the Reverend Mother herself. Nominally this learned gentleman existed for + the purpose of impressing upon the world the beauties of Latin poetry, but + he was best known to fame as an orator on the platforms of the Primrose + League, and a writer of magazine articles on Irish questions. He was a man + who owed his success in life largely to his faculty for always keeping + beside the most important person present. The Lord Lieutenant, being + slightly indisposed, had been unable to make an early start, so the most + honourable stranger was Mr. Chesney, the Chief Secretary. To him Professor + Cairns attached himself, and received a share of the Reverend Mother’s + blandishments. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Chesney himself was dapper and smiling as usual. Even the early hour + at which he had been obliged to leave home had neither ruffled his temper + nor withered the flower in his buttonhole. He spent his money generously + at the various stalls in the garden, addressed friendly remarks to the + women in the factory, and asked the questions with which Mr. Davis had + primed him in the train. + </p> + <p> + Quite a crowd of minor people followed the great statesman. There were + barristers who hoped to become County Court Judges, and ladies who enjoyed + a novel kind of occasion for displaying their clothes, hoping to see their + names afterwards in the newspaper accounts of the proceedings. There were + a few foremen from leading Dublin shops, who foresaw the possibility of a + fashionable boom in Robeen tweeds and flannels. There were also reporters + from the Dublin papers, and a representative—Miss O’Dwyer—of a + syndicate which supplied ladies’ journals with accounts of the clothes + worn at fashionable functions. + </p> + <p> + The supreme moment of the day arrived when the company assembled to listen + to words of wisdom from the orators selected to address them. Seats had + been provided by carting in forms from the neighbouring national schools. + A handsomely-carved chair of ecclesiastical design awaited Mr. Chesney. + </p> + <p> + He opened his speech by assuring his audience that there was no occasion + for him to address them at all, a truth which struck home to the heart of + Sir Gerald, who was trying to arrange himself comfortably at a desk + designed for a class of infants. + </p> + <p> + ‘Facts,’ Mr. Chesney explained himself, ‘are more eloquent than words. You + have seen what I could never have described to you—the contented + workers in this factory and the artistic designs of the fabrics they + weave. Many of you remember what Robeen was a few years ago—a + howling wilderness. We are told on high authority that even the wilderness + shall blossom as a rose.’ + </p> + <p> + He bowed in the direction of the Reverend Mother, possibly with a feeling + that it was suitable to acknowledge her presence when quoting Holy Writ, + possibly with a vague idea that she might consider herself a spiritual + descendant of the Prophet Isaiah. ‘You see it now a hive of happy + industry.’ + </p> + <p> + He observed with pleasure that the reporters were busy with their + note-books, and he knew that these editors of public utterance might be + relied on to unravel a tangled metaphor before publishing a speech. He + went on light-heartedly, confident that in the next day’s papers his + wilderness would blossom into something else, and that the hive, if it + appeared at all, would be arrived at by some other process than + blossoming. The habit of rolling out agreeable platitudes to audiences + forced to listen is one which grows on public men as dram-drinking does on + the common herd. Mr. Chesney was evidently enjoying himself, and there + seemed no reason why he should ever stop. He could, and perhaps would, + have gone on for hours but for the offensive way in which Judge Saunders + snapped the case of his watch at the end of every period. There was really + no hurry, for the special train which was to bring them back to Dublin + would certainly wait until they were ready for it. Mr. Chesney felt + aggrieved at the repeated interruption, and closed his speech without + giving the audience the benefit of his peroration. + </p> + <p> + The Judge came next, and began with reminding his hearers that he was + known as ‘Satan Saunders.’ An account of the origin of the name followed, + and was enjoyed even by those who had listened to the Judge’s oratory + before, and therefore knew the story. There was something piquant, almost + <i>risqué</i>, in the constant repetition of a really wicked word like + ‘Satan’ in the halls of a nunnery. The audience laughed reassuringly, and + the Judge went on to supply fresh pabulum for mirth by suggesting that the + Reverend Mother should clothe her nuns in their own tweeds. He was + probably right in supposing that the new costumes would add a gaiety to + the religious life. Other jests followed, and he sat down amid a flutter + of applause after promising that when he next presided over the Winter + Assizes in a draughty court-house he would send for a Robeen blanket and + wrap his legs in it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clifford, who followed the Judge, began by wondering whether anyone + present had ever been in Lancashire. After a pause, during which no one + owned to having crossed the Channel, he said that Lancashire was the home + of the modern factory. There every man and woman earned good wages, wore + excellent clothes, and lived in a house fitted with hot and cold water + taps and a gas-meter. It was his hope to see Mayo turned into another + Lancashire. When ladies of undoubted commercial ability, like the Lady + Abbess who presided over the Robeen convent—Lady Abbess sounded + well, and Mr. Clifford was not strong on ecclesiastical titles—took + the matter up, success was assured. All that was required for the + development of the factory system in Mayo was capital, and that ‘we, the + Congested Districts Board, are in a position to supply.’ With the help of + some prompting from Mr. Davis, he proceeded to lay before the audience a + few figures purporting to explain the Board’s expenditure. + </p> + <p> + Professor Cairns was evidently anxious to follow Mr. Clifford, if only in + the humble capacity of the proposer of a vote of thanks. But his name was + not on the programme, and Mr. Chesney was already engaged in a whispered + conversation with the Reverend Mother. Ignoring the professor, almost + rudely, he announced that the company in general was invited to tea in the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + The refreshments provided, if not substantial, were admirable in quality. + There happened just then to be a young lady engaged, at the expense of the + County Council, in teaching cookery in a neighbouring convent. She was + sent over to Robeen for the occasion, and made a number of delightful + cakes at extremely small expense. The workers in the factory had given the + butter she required as a thank-offering, and the necessary eggs came from + another convent where the nuns, with financial assistance from the + Congested Districts Board, kept a poultry-farm. The Reverend Mother + dispensed her hospitality with the same air of generosity with which Mr. + Clifford had spoken of providing capital for the future ecclesiastical + factories. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + The Reverend Mother bowed out the last of her guests, and retired to her + own room well satisfied. She was assured of further support from the + Congested Districts Board, and certain debts which had grown uncomfortably + during her struggle with Mr. Quinn need trouble her no longer. Her goods + would be extensively advertised next morning in the daily press. Her house + would obtain a celebrity likely to attract the most eligible novices—those, + that is to say, who would bring the largest sums of money as their + dowries. There arose before her mind a vision of almost unbounded wealth + and all that might be done with it. What statues of saints might not Italy + supply! French painters and German organ-builders would compete for the + privilege of furnishing the chapel of her house. Already she foresaw + pavements of gorgeous mosaic, windows radiant with Munich glass, and store + of vestments to make her sacristy famous. Grandiose plans suggested + themselves of founding daughter houses in Melbourne, in Auckland, in + Capetown, in Natal. All things were possible to a well-filled purse. She + saw how her Order might open schools in English towns, where girls could + be taught French, Italian, Latin, music, all the accomplishments dear to + middle-class parents, at ridiculously low fees, or without fees at all. + She stirred involuntarily at the splendour of her visions. The day’s + weariness dropped off from her. She rose from her chair and went into the + chapel. She prostrated herself before the altar, and lay passive in a glow + of warm emotion. For God, for the Mother of God, for the Catholic Church, + she had laboured and suffered and dared. Now she was well within sight of + the end, the golden reward, the fulfilment of hopes that had never been + altogether selfish. + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts, sanctified now by the Presence on the altar, drifted out + again on to the shining sea of the future. What she, a humble nun, had + done others would do. A countless army of missionary men and women + marching from the Irish shore would conquer the world’s conquerors, regain + for the Church the Anglo-Saxon race. Once in the far past Irish men and + women had Christianized Europe, and Ireland had won her glorious title, + ‘Island of Saints.’ Now the great day was to dawn again, the great race to + be reborn. For this end had Ireland been kept faithful and pure for + centuries, just that she might be at last the witness to the spiritual in + a materialized world. For this end had the Church in Ireland gone through + the storm of persecution, suffered the blight of the world’s contempt, + that she might emerge in the end entirely fitted for the bloodless + warfare. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I am one of the race, a daughter of Ireland. And I am a worker—nay, + one who has accomplished something—in the vineyard of the Church. + Ah, God!’ + </p> + <p> + She was swept forward on a wave of emotion. Thought ceased, expiring in + the ecstasy of a communion which transcended thought. Then suddenly, sharp + as an unexpected pain, an accusation shot across her soul, shattering the + coloured glory of the trance in an instant. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who am I that I should boast?’ + </p> + <p> + The long years of introspection, the discipline of hundreds of + heart-searching confessions, the hardly-learned lesson of self-distrust, + made it possible for her to recognise the vain-glory even with the halo of + devotion shining round it. She abased herself in penitence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me the work, my Lord; give others the glory and the fruit of it. Let + me toil, but withhold the reward from me. May my eyes not see it, lest I + be lifted up! Nay, give me not even work to do, lest I should be praised + or learn to praise myself. “Nunc dimittis servam tuam, Domine, secundum + verbum tuum in pace.”’ + </p> + <p> + There stole over her a sense of peace—numb, silent peace—wholly + unlike the satisfaction which had flooded her in her own room or during + the earlier ecstasy before the altar. She raised her eyes slowly till they + rested on the shrine where the body of the sacrifice reposed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum.’ + </p> + <p> + At last she rose. The lines of care and age gathered again upon her face. + Her eyes gleamed with keen intelligence. She braced herself with the + thought of all that might still lie before her. The advice of Iago, + strangely sanctified, clamoured in her heart—‘Put money in thy + purse.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + The Reverend Mother was not the only person well satisfied with the day. + The Right Hon. T. J. Chesney leant back in his saloon-carriage, and puffed + contentedly at his cigar. It might be his part occasionally—indeed, + frequently—to talk like a fool, but the man was shrewd enough. It + really seemed that he had hit on the true method of governing Ireland. + Nationalist members of Parliament could be muzzled, not by the foolish old + methods of coercion, but by winning the goodwill of the Bishops. No Irish + member dared open his mouth when a priest bid him keep it shut, or give a + vote contrary to the wishes of the hierarchy. And the Bishops were + reasonable men. They looked at things from a point of view intelligible to + Englishmen. There was no ridiculous sentimentality about their demands. + For so much money they would silence the clamour of the Parliamentary + party; for so much more they would preach a modified loyalty, would assert + before the world that the Irish people were faithful servants of the + Sovereign; for a good lump sum down they would undertake to play ‘God Save + the King’ or ‘Rule, Britannia’ on the organ at Maynooth. Of course, the + money must be paid: Mr. Chesney was beginning to understand that, and felt + the drawback. It would have been much pleasanter and simpler if the + Bishops would have been content with promises. There was a certain + difficulty in obtaining the necessary funds without announcing precisely + what they were for. But, after all, a man cannot be called a great + statesman without doing something to deserve the title, and British + statesmanship is the art of hoodwinking the taxpayer. That is all—not + too difficult a task for a clever man. Mr. Chesney reckoned on no power in + Ireland likely to be seriously troublesome. The upper classes were either + helpless and sulking, or helpless and smiling artificially. They might + grumble in private or try to make themselves popular by joining the chorus + of the Church’s flatterers. Either way their influence was inconsiderable. + Was there anyone else worth considering? The Orangemen were still a noisy + faction, but their organization appeared to be breaking up. They were more + bent on devouring their own leaders than interfering with him. There were + a number of people anxious to revive the Irish language, who at one time + had caused him some little uneasiness. He had found it quite impossible to + understand the Gaelic League, and, being an Englishman, arrived gradually + at the comfortable conclusion that what he could not understand must be + foolish. Now, he had great hopes that the Bishops might capture the + movement. + </p> + <p> + If once it was safely under the patronage of the Church, he had nothing + more to fear from it. No doubt, resolutions would be passed, but + resolutions——— Mr. Chesney smiled. There were, of + course, the impossible people connected with the <i>Croppy</i>. Mr. + Chesney did not like them, and in the bottom of his heart was a little + nervous about them. They seemed to be very little afraid of the authority + of the Church, and he doubted if the authority of the state would frighten + them at all. Still, there were very few of them, and their abominable + spirit of independence was spreading slowly, if at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘They won’t,’ he said to himself, ‘be of any importance for some years to + come, at all events, and five years hence——’ + </p> + <p> + In five years Mr. Chesney hoped to be Prime Minister, or perhaps to have + migrated to the House of Lords, At least, he expected to be out of + Ireland, Meanwhile, he lighted a fresh cigar. The condition of the country + was extremely satisfactory, and his policy was working out better than he + had hoped. + </p> + <p> + The other travellers by the special train were equally well pleased, + Ireland, so they understood Mr. Chesney, was to be made happy and + contented, peaceful and prosperous. It followed that there must be Boards + under the control of Dublin Castle—more and more Boards, an endless + procession of them. There is no way devised by the wit of man for securing + prosperity and contentment except the creation of Boards. If Boards, then + necessarily officials—officials with salaries and travelling + allowances. Nice gentlemanly men, with villas at Dalkey and Killiney, + would perform duties not too arduous in connection with the Boards, and + carry out the benevolent policy of the Government. There was not a man in + the train, except the newspaper reporters, who did not believe in the + regeneration of Ireland by Boards, and everyone hoped to take a share in + the good work, with the prospect of a retiring pension afterwards. + </p> + <p> + The local magnates—with the exception of Sir Gerald Geoghegan, whose + temper had been bad from the first—also went home content. The minds + of great ladies work somewhat confusedly, for Providence, no doubt wisely, + has denied to most of them the faculty of reason. It was enough for them + to feel that the nuns were ‘sweet women,’ and that in some way not very + clear Mr. Chesney was getting the better of ‘those wretched agitators.’ + </p> + <p> + Only one of all whom the special train had brought down failed to return + in it. Mary O’Dwyer slipped out of the convent before the speeches began, + and wandered away towards the desolate stony hill where the stream which + turns the factory mill took its rise. It grieved her to miss the cup of + tea which a friendly nun had led her to expect; but even tea might be too + dearly purchased, and Miss O’Dwyer had a strong dislike to listening to + what Augusta Goold described as the ‘sugared hypocrisies of professional + liars.’ Besides, she had her cigarette-case in her pocket, and a smoke, + unattainable for her in the convent or the train, was much to be desired. + She left the road at the foot of the hill, and picked her way along the + rough bohireen which led upwards along the course of the stream. After + awhile even this track disappeared. The stream tumbled noisily over rocks + and stones, the bog-stained water glowing auburn-coloured in the sunlight. + The ling and heather were springy under her feet, and the air was sweet + with the scent of the bog-myrtle. She spied round her for a rock which + cast a shade upon the kind of heathery bed she had set her heart to find. + Her eyes lit upon a little party—a young man and two girls—encamped + with a kettle, a spirit-stove, and a store of bread-and-butter. Her + renunciation of the convent tea had not been made without a pang. She + looked longingly at the steam which already spouted from the kettle. The + young man said a few words to the girls, then stood up, raised his hat to + her, and beckoned. She approached him, wondering. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely it can’t be—I really believe it is——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Miss O’Dwyer, it really is myself, Hyacinth Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, you are the last person I expected to meet, though of course + I knew you were somewhere down in these parts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come and have some tea,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And let me introduce you to Miss + Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer took stock of the two girls. ‘They make their own clothes,’ + she thought, ‘and apparently only see last year’s fashion-plates. The + eldest isn’t bad-looking. How is it all West of Ireland girls have such + glorious complexions? Her figure wouldn’t be bad if her mother bought her + a decent pair of stays. I wonder who they are, and what they are doing + here with Hyacinth. They can’t be his sisters.’ + </p> + <p> + While they drank their tea certain glances and smiles gave her an inkling + of the truth. ‘I suppose Hyacinth is engaged to the elder one,’ she + concluded. ‘That kind of girl wouldn’t dare to make eyes at a man unless + she had some kind of right to him.’ + </p> + <p> + After tea she produced her cigarette-case. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said to Marion. ‘I know it’s very shocking, + but I’ve had a tiring day and an excellent tea, and oh, this heather is + delicious to lie on!’ She stretched herself at full length as she spoke. + ‘I really must smoke, just to arrive at perfect felicity for once in my + life. How happy you people ought to be who always have in a place like + this!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Marion, ‘it sometimes rains, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! and then these sweet spots get boggy, I suppose, and you have to wear + thick, clumping boots.’ + </p> + <p> + Her own were very neat and small, and she knew that they must obtrude + themselves on the eye while she lay prone. Elsie, whose shoes were patched + as well as thick-soled, made an ineffectual attempt to cover them with her + skirt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘tell us what you are doing down here. They haven’t + made you an inspectress of boarded-out workhouse children, have they? or + sent you down to improve the breed of hens?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I have spent the afternoon helping to govern + Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + Marion and Elsie gazed at her in wonder. A lady who smoked cigarettes and + bore the cares of State upon her shoulders was a novelty to them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have sat in the seats of the mighty,’ she said; ‘I have breathed the + same air as Mr. Chesney and two members of the C.D.B. Think of that! + Moreover, I might, if I liked, have drunk tea with a Duchess.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you were at the convent function, I suppose. I + wonder I didn’t see you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth were <i>you</i> doing there? I thought you hated the nuns + and all their ways.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go on about yourself,’ said Hyacinth. ‘You are not employed by the + Government to inspect infant industries, are you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no; I was one of the representatives of the press. I have notes here + of all the beautiful clothes worn by the wives and daughters of the West + British aristocracy. Listen to this: “Lady Geoghegan was gowned in an + important creation of saffron tweed, the product of the convent looms. We + are much mistaken if this fabric in just this shade is not destined to + play a part in robing the <i>élégantes</i> who will shed a lustre on our + house-parties during the autumn.” And this—you must just listen to + this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t,’ said Hyacinth; ‘you can if you like, Marion. I’ll shut my + ears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I’ll talk seriously. When are you coming + up to Dublin? You know my brother has taken over the editorship of the <i>Croppy</i>. + We are going to make it a great power in the country. We are coming out + with a policy which will sweep the old set of political talkers out of + existence, and clear the country of Mr. Chesney and the likes of him.’ She + waved her hand towards the convent. ‘Oh, it is going to be great. It is + great already. Why don’t you come and help us?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at her. She had half risen and leaned upon her elbow. Her + face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. There was no doubt about the + genuineness of her enthusiasm. The words of her poem, long since, he + supposed, blotted from his memory, suddenly returned to him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘O, desolate mother, O, Erin, + When shall the pulse of thy life which but flutters in Connacht + Throb through thy meadows and boglands and mountains and cities?’ +</pre> + <p> + Had it come at last, this revival of the nation’s vitality? Had it come + just too late for him to share it? + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall not help you,’ he said sadly; ‘I do not suppose that I ever could + have helped you much, but now I shall not even try.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at him quickly with a startled expression in her eyes. Then she + turned to Marion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you preventing him?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is not Marion. But I am going away—going to + England. I am going to be ordained, to become an English curate. Do you + understand? I came here to-day to see the man who is to be my Rector, and + to make final arrangements with him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Hyacinth!’ + </p> + <p> + For some minutes she said no more. He saw in her face a wondering sorrow, + a pathetic submissiveness to an unexpected disappointment, like the look + in the face of a dog struck suddenly by the hand of a friend. He felt that + he could have borne her anger better. No doubt if he had made his + confession to Augusta Goold he would have been overwhelmed with passionate + wrath or withered by a superb contemptuous stare. Then he could have + worked himself to anger in return. But this! + </p> + <p> + ‘You will never speak to any of us again,’ she went on. You will be + ashamed even to read the <i>Croppy</i>. You will wear a long black coat + and gray gloves. You will learn to talk about the “Irish Problem” and the + inestimable advantages of belonging to a world-wide Empire, and about the + great heart of the English people. I see it all—all that will happen + to you. Your hair will get quite smooth and sleek. Then you will become a + Vicar of a parish. You will live in a beautiful house, with Virginia + creeper growing over it and plum-trees in the garden. You will have a nice + clean village for a parish, with old women who drop curtsies to you, and + men—such men! stupid as bullocks! I know it all. And you will be + ashamed to call yourself an Irishman. Oh, Hyacinth!’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer’s catalogue of catastrophes was curiously mixed. Perhaps the + comedy in it tended to obscure the utter degradation of the ruin she + described. But the freakish incongruity of the speech did not strike + Hyacinth. He found in it only two notes—pity that such a fate + awaited him, and contempt for the man who submitted to it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot help myself. Will you not make an effort to understand? I am + trying to do what is right.’ + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he said, ‘I know it is no use. You could not understand even if I + told you all I felt.’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. He heard her sob. Then she turned + without a word and left them. He stood watching her till she reached the + road and started on her walk to the railway-station. Then he took Marion’s + two hands in his, and held them fast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will <i>you</i> understand?’ he asked her. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him. Her face was all tenderness. Love shone on him—trusting, + unquestioning, adoring love, love that would be loyal to the uttermost; + but her eyes were full of a dumb wonder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + One morning near the end of September the <i>Irish Times</i> published a + list of Irish graduates ordained in England on the previous Sunday. Among + other names appeared: + </p> + <p> + ‘Hyacinth Conneally, B.A., T.C.D., deacon, by the Bishop of Ripon, for the + curacy of Kirby-Stowell.’ + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards the <i>Croppy</i> printed the following verses, signed + ‘M.O’D.‘: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘EIRE TO H. C. + + ‘Bight across the low, flat curragh from the sea, + Drifting, driving sweeps the rain, + Where the bogborn, bent, brown rushes grow for me, + Barren grass instead of grain. + + ‘Out across the sad, soaked curragh towards the sea, + Striding, striving go the men, + With their spades and forks and barrows toil for me + That my corn may grow again + + ‘Ah! but safe from blast of wind and bitter sea, + You who loved me—-Tusa féin— + Live and feel and work for others, not for me, + Never coming back again. + + ‘Yes, while all across the curragh from the West + Drifts the sea-rain off the sea, + You have chosen. Have you chosen what is best + For yourself, O son, and me?’ +</pre> + <p> + Hyacinth read the verses, cut them out of the <i>Croppy</i>, and locked + them in the box in which he stored the few papers of interest he + possessed. The sorrowful judgment pronounced on his conduct affected him, + but only in a dull way, like an additional blow upon a limb already + bruised to numbness. He accepted his new duties and performed them without + any feeling of enthusiasm, and after a little while without any definite + hope of doing any good. He got no further in understanding the people he + had to deal with, and he was aware that even those of them who came most + frequently into contact with him regarded him as a stranger. A young + doctor whose wife took a fancy to Marion tried to make friends with him. + The result was unsatisfactory, owing to Hyacinth’s irresponsiveness. He + could not, without yawning piteously, spend an evening discussing the + performances of the local cricket club; nor did his conduct improve when + the two ladies suspended their talk and sacrificed an hour to playing + four-handed halma with their husbands. An unmarried solicitor, attracted + by Marion’s beauty and friendliness, adopted the habit of calling at + Hyacinth’s little house about nine or ten o’clock in the evening. He was a + man full of anecdote and simple mirth, and he often stayed, quite happily, + till midnight. Every week he brought an illustrated paper as an offering + to Marion, and recommended the short stories in it to her notice. He + often asked Hyacinth’s advice and help in solving the conundrums set by + the prize editor. He took a mild interest in politics, and retailed gossip + picked up at the Conservative Club. After a while he gave up coming to the + house. Hyacinth blamed himself for being cold and unfriendly to the man. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Austin treated Hyacinth with kindness and some consideration, much as + a wise master treats an upper servant. He was anxious that his curate + should perform many and complicated ceremonies in church, was seriously + intent on the wearing of correctly-coloured stoles, and ‘ran,’ as he + expressed it himself, a very large number of different organizations, of + each of which the objective appeared to be a tea-party in the parochial + hall. Hyacinth accepted his tuition, bowed low at the times when Mr. + Austin liked to bow, watched for the seasons when stoles bloomed white and + gold, changed to green, or faded down to violet. He tried to make himself + agreeable to the ‘united mothers’ and the rest when they assembled for + tea-drinking. Mr. Austin asserted that these were the methods by which the + English people were being taught the Catholic faith. Hyacinth did not + doubt it, nor did he permit himself to wonder whether it was worth while + teaching them. + </p> + <p> + To Marion the new life was full of many delights. The surpliced choir-boys + gratified her aesthetic sense, and she entered herself as one of a band of + volunteers who scrubbed the chancel tiles and polished a brass cross. She + smiled, kissed, and petted Hyacinth out of the fits of depression which + came on him, managed his small income with wonderful skill, and wrote + immensely long letters home to Ballymoy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + It is very hard for a poor man to travel from one side of England to the + other side of Ireland, because railway companies, even when, to allure the + public, they advertise extraordinary excursions, charge a great deal for + their tickets. The journey becomes still more difficult of accomplishment + when the poor man is married. Then there are two tickets to be bought, and + very likely most of the money which might have bought them has been spent + securing the safe arrival of a baby—a third person who in due time + will also require a railway-ticket. This was Hyacinth’s case. For two + summers he had no holiday at all, and it was only by the most fortunate of + chances that he found himself during the third summer in a position to go + to Ballymoy. He sublet his house to a freshly-arrived supervisor of Inland + Revenue, who wanted six weeks to look about for a suitable residence. With + the nine pounds paid in advance by this gentleman, Hyacinth and Marion, + having with them their baby, a perambulator, and much other luggage, set + off for Ballymoy. + </p> + <p> + The journey is not a very pleasant one, because it is made over the lines + of three English railway companies, whose trains refuse to connect with + each other at junctions, and because St. George’s Channel is generally + rough. The discomfort of third-class carriages is more acutely felt when + the Irish shore is reached, but the misery of having to feed and tend a + year-old child lasts the whole journey through. Therefore, Marion arrived + in Dublin dishevelled, weary, and, for all her natural placidness, + inclined to be cross. The steamer came to port at an hour which left them + just the faint hope of catching the earliest train to Ballymoy. + Disappointment followed the nervous strain of a rush across Dublin. Two + long hours intervened before the next train started, and the people who + keep the refreshment-room in Broadstone Station are not early risers. + Marion, without tea or courage, settled herself and the baby in the + draughty waiting-room. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was also dishevelled, dirty, and tired, having borne his full + share of strife with the child’s worst moods. But the sight of Ireland + from the steamer’s deck filled him with a strange sense of exultation. He + wished to shout with gladness when the gray dome of the Custom House rose + to view, immense above the low blanket of mist. Even the incredibly + hideous iron grating of the railway viaduct set his pulse beating + joyfully. He drew deep breaths, inhaling various abominable smells + delightedly. The voices of the sleepy porters on the quay roused in him a + craving for the gentle slovenliness of Irish speech. He fussed and hustled + Marion beyond the limits of her endurance, pretending eagerness to catch + the early train, caring in reality not at all whether any train were + caught or missed, filled only with a kind of frenzy to keep moving somehow + further into Ireland. In the cab he gave utterance to ridiculous + pleasantries. He seized the child from Marion, and held him, wailing + piteously, half out of the window, that his eyes might rest on the great + gilt characters which adorn the offices of the Gaelic League. It was with + rapture that he read Irish names, written and spelt in Irish, above the + shops, and saw a banner proclaiming the annual festival of Irish Ireland + hanging over the door of the Rotunda. The city had grown more Irish since + he left it. There was no possibility now, even in the early morning, with + few people but scavengers and milkmen in the streets, of mistaking for an + English town. + </p> + <p> + While Marion sat torpid in the waiting-room, he paced the platform eagerly + from end to end. He saw the train pushed slowly into position beside the + platform, watched porters sweep the accumulated débris of yesterday’s + traffic from the floors of the carriages, and rub with filthy rags the + brass doorhandles. Little groups of passengers began to arrive—first + a company of cattle-jobbers, four of them, red-faced men with keen, crafty + eyes, bound for some Western fair; then a laughing party of tourists, + women in short skirts and exaggeratedly protective veils, men with fierce + tweed knickerbockers dragging stuffed hold-alls and yellow bags. These + were evidently English. Their clear high-pitched voices proclaimed + contempt for their surroundings, and left no doubt of their nationality. + One of them addressed a bewildered porter in cheerful song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Are you right there, + Michael? are you right? + Have you got the parcel there for Mrs. White?’ +</pre> + <p> + He felt, and his companions sympathized, that he was entering into the + spirit of Irish life. Then, heralded by an obsequious guard, came a great + man, proconsular in mien and gait. Bags and rugs were wheeled beside him. + In his hand was a despatch-box bearing the tremendous initials of the + Local Government Board. He took complete possession of a first-class + smoking carriage, scribbled a telegram, perhaps of international + importance, handed it to the guard for instant despatch, and lit a + finely-odorous cigar. Hyacinth, humbled by the mere view of this + incarnation of the Imperial spirit, went meekly to the waiting-room to + fetch Marion and his child. He led them across the now crowded platform + towards a third-class carriage. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not go with you in your first-class carriage, Father Lavelle; so + that’s flat. Nor I won’t split the difference and go second either, if + that’s what you’re going to propose to me. Is it spend what would keep the + family of a poor man in bread and tea for a week, for the sake of easing + my back with a cushion? Get away with you. The plain deal board’s good + enough for me. And, moreover, I doubt very much if I’ve the money to do + it, if I were ever so willing. I’m afraid to look into my purse to count + the few coppers that’s left in it after paying that murdering bill in the + hotel you took me to. Gresham, indeed! A place where they’re not ashamed + to charge a poor old priest three and sixpence for his breakfast, and me + not able to eat the half of what they put before me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth turned quickly. Two priests stood together near the bookstall. + The one, a young man, handsome and well-dressed, he did not know. The + other he recognised at once. It seemed to be the same familiarly shabby + black coat which he wore, the same many-stained waistcoat, the identical + silk hat, ruffled and rain-spotted. The same pads of flesh hung flaccid + from his jaws; the red, cracked knuckles of his hands, well remembered, + were enormous still. Only the furrows on the face seemed to be ploughed + deeper and wider, and a few more stiff hairs curled over the general + bushiness of the grizzled eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Moran!’ cried Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am Father Moran. You’re right there. But who <i>you</i> are or how you + come to know me is more than I can tell. But wait a minute. I’ve a sort of + recollection of your voice. Will you speak to me again, and maybe I’ll be + able to put a name on you.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth said a few words rapidly in Irish. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have you now,’ said the priest. ‘You’re Hyacinth Conneally, the boy + that went out to fight for the Boers. Father Lavelle, this is a friend of + mine that I’ve known ever since he was born, and I haven’t laid eyes on + him these six years or more. You’re going West, Mr. Conneally? But of + course you are. Where else would you be going? We’ll travel together and + talk. If it’s second-class you’re going, Father Lavelle will have to lend + me the money to pay the extra on my ticket, so as I can go with you. + Seemingly it’s a Protestant minister you’ve grown into. Well now, who’d + have thought it? And you so set on fighting the battle of Armageddon and + all. It’s a come-down for you, so it is. But never mind. You might have + got yourself killed in it. There’s many a one killed or maimed for life in + smaller fights than it. It’s better to be a minister any day than a corpse + or a cripple. And as you are a minister, it’s likely to be third-class + you’re travelling. Times are changed since I was young. It was the priests + travelled third-class then, if they travelled at all, and the ministers + were cocked up on the cushions, looking down on the likes of us out of the + windows with the little red curtains half-drawn across them. Now it’ll be + Father Lavelle there, with his grand new coat that he says is Irish + manufacture—but I don’t believe him—who’ll be doing the + gentleman. But come along, Mr. Conneally—come along, and tell me all + the battles you fought and the Generals you made prisoners of, and how it + was you took to preaching afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, somewhat shyly, introduced the priest to Marion. Then a + ticket-collector drove them into their carriage and locked the door. + </p> + <p> + Father Moran began to catechize Hyacinth before the train started, and + drew from him, as they went westwards, the story of his disappointments, + doubts, hopes, veerings, and final despair. Hyacinth spoke unwillingly at + first, giving no more than necessary answers to the questions. Then, + because he found that reticence called down on him fresh and more detailed + inquiries, and also because the priest’s evident and sympathetic interest + redeemed a prying curiosity from offensiveness, he told his tale more + freely. Very soon there was no more need of questioning, and Father + Moran’s share in the talk took the form of comments interrupting a + narrative. + </p> + <p> + Of Captain Albert Quinn he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve heard of him, and a nice kind of a boy he seems to have been. I + suppose he fought when he got there. He’s just the sort that would be + splendid at the fighting. Well, God is good, and I suppose it’s to do the + fighting for the rest of us that He makes the likes of Captain Quinn. Did + you hear that they wanted to make him a member of Parliament? Well, they + did. Nothing less would please them. But what good would that be, when he + couldn’t set foot in the country for fear of being arrested?’ + </p> + <p> + Later on he was moved to laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘To think of your going on the road with a bag full of blankets and + shawls! I never heard of such a thing, and all the grand notions your head + was full of! Why didn’t you come my way? I’d have made Rafferty give you + an order. I’d have bought the makings of a frieze coat from you myself—I + would, indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + Afterwards he became grave again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t let you say the hard word about the nuns, Mr. Conneally. Don’t do + it, now. There’s plenty of good convents up and down through the country—more + than ever you’ll know of, being the black Protestant you are. And the ones + that ruined your business—supposing they did ruin it, and I’ve only + your word for that—what right have you to be blaming them? They were + trying to turn an honest penny by an honest trade, and that’s just what + you and your friend Mr. Quinn were doing yourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, conscious of a failure in good taste, shifted his ground, only + to be interrupted again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you may abuse the Congested Districts Board to your heart’s content. + I never could see what the Government made all the Boards for unless it + was to keep the people out of mischief. As long as there is a Board of any + kind about the country every blackguard will be so busy throwing stones at + it that he won’t have time nor inclination left to annoy decent people. + And I’ll say this for the Congested Districts Board: they mean well. + Indeed they do; not a doubt of it. There’s one good thing they did, + anyway, if there isn’t another, and that’s when they came to Carrowkeel + and bought the big Curragh Farm that never supported a Christian, but two + herds and some bullocks ever since the famine clearances. They fetched the + people down off the mountains and put them on it. Wasn’t that a good + thing, now? Sure, all Government Boards do more wrong than right. It’s the + nature of that sort of confederation. But it’s all the more thankful we + ought to be when once in a while they do something useful.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth came to tell of the choice which Canon Beecher offered him, and + dwelt with tragic emphasis on his own decision. The priest listened, a + smile on his lips, a look of pity which belied the smile in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you thought Ireland would be lost altogether unless you wrote articles + for Miss Goold in the <i>Croppy?</i> It’s no small opinion you have of + yourself, Hyacinth Conneally. And you thought you’d save your soul by + going to preach the Gospel to the English people? Was that it, now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was not,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and you know it wasn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it wasn’t. What was I thinking of to forget the young lady that + was in it? A fine wife you’ve got, any way. God bless her, and make you a + good husband to her! By the looks of her she’s better than you deserve. I + suppose it was to get money you went to England, so as to buy her pretty + dresses and a beautiful house to live in? Did you think you’d grow rich + over there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed I did not,’ said Hyacinth bitterly. ‘I knew we’d never be rich.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, couldn’t you as well have been poor in Ireland? And better, + for everybody’s poor here. But there, I know well enough it wasn’t money + you were after. Don’t be getting angry with me, now. It wasn’t for the + sake of saving your soul you went, nor to get your nice wife, though a man + might go a long way for the likes of her. I don’t know why you went, and + it’s my belief you don’t know yourself. But you made a mistake, whatever + you did it for, going off on that English mission. Is it a mission you + call it when you’re a Protestant? I don’t think it is, but it doesn’t + matter. You made a mistake. Why don’t you come back again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God knows I would if I could. It’s hungry I am to get back—just + sick with hunger and the great desire that is on me to be back again in + Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what’s to hinder you? Let me tell you this: There’s been four men + in your father’s place since he died. Never a one of the first three would + stay. They tell me the pay’s small, and the place is desolate to them for + the want of Protestants, there being none, you may say, but the + coastguards. After the third of them left it was long enough before they + got the fourth. I hear they went scouring and scraping round the four + coasts of the country with a trawl-net trying to get a man. And now + they’ve got him he’s all for going away. He says there’s no work to do, + and no people to preach to. But you’d find work, if you were there. I’d + find you work myself—work for the people you knew since you were + born, that’s in the way at last of getting to be the men and women they + were meant to be, and that wants all the help can be got for them. Why + don’t you come back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, Father Moran, I would if I could.’ ‘If you could! What’s the use + of talking? Isn’t your wife’s father a Canon? And wouldn’t that professor + in the college that you used to tell me of do something for you? What’s + the good of having fine friends like that if they won’t get you sent to a + place like Carrowkeel, that never another minister but yourself would as + much as eat his dinner in twice if he could help it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth glanced doubtfully at Marion. The child lay quiet in her arms. + She slept uncomfortably. It was clear that she had not cared to listen to + the conversation of the two men. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hyacinth, by George A. Birmingham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYACINTH *** + +***** This file should be named 10538-h.htm or 10538-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/5/3/10538/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Birmingham + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hyacinth, by George A. Birmingham + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hyacinth + 1906 + +Author: George A. Birmingham + +Release Date: January 23, 2008 [EBook #10538] +Last Updated: February 17, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYACINTH *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + HYACINTH + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By George A. Birmingham + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + 1906 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + In the year 1850 or thereabouts religious and charitable society in + England was seized with a desire to convert Irish Roman Catholics to the + Protestant faith. It is clear to everyone with any experience of + missionary societies that, the more remote the field of actual work, the + easier it is to keep alive the interest of subscribers. The mission to + Roman Catholics, therefore, commenced in that western portion of Galway + which the modern tourist knows as Connemara, and the enthusiasm was + immense. Elderly ladies, often with titles, were energetic in the cause of + the new reformation. Young ladies, some of them very attractive, collected + money from their brothers and admirers. States-men and Bishops headed the + subscription-lists, and influential committees earnestly debated plans for + spending the money which poured in. Faith in the efficacy of money handled + by influential committees is one of the characteristics of the English + people, and in this particular case it seemed as if their faith were to be + justified by results. Most encouraging reports were sent to headquarters + from Connemara. It appeared that converts were flocking in, and that the + schools of the missionaries were filled to overflowing. In the matter of + education circumstances favoured the new reformation. The leonine John + McHale, the Papal Archbishop of Tuam, pursued a policy which drove the + children of his flock into the mission schools. The only other kind of + education available was that which some humorous English statesman had + called ‘national,’ and it did not seem to the Archbishop desirable that an + Irish boy should be beaten for speaking his own language, or rewarded for + calling himself ‘a happy English child.’ He refused to allow the building + of national schools in his diocese, and thus left the cleverer boys to + drift into the mission schools, where they learnt carefully selected texts + of Scripture along with the multiplication-table. The best of them were + pushed on through Dublin University, and crowned the hopes of their + teachers by taking Holy Orders in the Church of England. There are still + to be met with in Galway and Mayo ancient peasants and broken-down + inhabitants of workhouses who speak with a certain pride of ‘my brother + the minister.’ There are also here and there in English rectories elderly + gentlemen who have almost forgotten the thatched cottages where they ate + their earliest potatoes. + </p> + <p> + Among these cleverer boys was one Æneas Conneally, who was something more + than clever. He was also religious in an intense and enthusiastic manner, + which puzzled his teachers while it pleased them. His ancestors had lived + for generations on a seaboard farm, watered by salt rain, swept by misty + storms. The famine and the fever that followed it left him fatherless and + brotherless. The emigration schemes robbed him and his mother of their + surviving relations. The mission school and the missionary’s charity + effected the half conversion of the mother and a whole-hearted acceptance + of the new faith on the part of Æneas. Unlike most of his fellows in the + college classrooms, he refused to regard an English curacy as the goal of + his ambition. It seemed to him that his conversion ought not to end in his + parading the streets of Liverpool in a black coat and a white tie. He + wanted to return to his people and tell them in their own tongue the + Gospel which he had found so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + The London committee meditated on his request, and before they arrived at + a conclusion his mother died, having at the last moment made a tardy + submission to the Church she had denied. Her apostasy—so the + missionaries called it—confirmed the resolution of her son, and the + committee at length agreed to allow him to return to his native village as + the first Rector of the newly-created parish of Carrowkeel. He was + provided with all that seemed necessary to insure the success of his work. + They built him a gray house, low and strong, for it had to withstand the + gales which swept in from the Atlantic. They bought him a field where a + cow could graze, and an acre of bog to cut turf from. A church was built + for him, gray and strong, like his house. It was fitted with comfortable + pews, a pulpit, a reading-desk, and a movable table of wood decently + covered with a crimson cloth. Beyond the church stood the school he had + attended as a boy, whitewashed without and draped inside with maps and + illuminated texts. A salary, not princely but sufficient, was voted to Mr. + Conneally, and he was given authority over a Scripture-reader and a + schoolmaster. The whole group of mission buildings—the rectory, the + church, and the school—stood, like types of the uncompromising + spirit of Protestantism, upon the bare hillside, swept by every storm, + battered by the Atlantic spray. Below them Carrowkeel, the village, + cowered in such shelter as the sandhills afforded. Eastward lonely + cottages, faintly smoking dots in the landscape, straggled away to the + rugged bases of the mountains. The Rev. Æneas Conneally entered upon his + mission enthusiastically, and the London committee awaited results. There + were scarcely any results, certainly none that could be considered + satisfactory. The day for making conversions was past, and the tide had + set decisively against the new reformation. A national school, started by + a clearsighted priest, in spite of his Archbishop, left the mission school + almost without pupils. The Scripture-reader lost heart, and took to + seeking encouragement in the public-house. He found it, and once when + exalted—he said, spiritually—paraded the streets cursing the + Virgin Mary. Worse followed, and the committee in London dismissed the + man. A diminishing income forced on them the necessity of economy, and no + successor was appointed. For a few years Mr. Conneally laboured on. Then a + sharp-eyed inspector from London discovered that the schoolmaster took + very little trouble about teaching, but displayed great talent in + prompting his children at examinations. He, too, was dismissed, and the + committee, still bent on economy, appointed a mistress in his place. She + was a pretty girl, and after she had shivered through the stormy nights of + two winters in the lonely school-house, Mr. Conneally married her. + Afterwards the office of school-teacher was also left vacant. The + whitewashed school fell gradually into decay, and the committee effected a + further saving. + </p> + <p> + After his marriage Mr. Conneally’s missionary enthusiasm began to flag. + His contact with womanhood humanized him. The sternness of the reformer + died in him, and his neighbours, who never could comprehend his religion, + came to understand the man. They learned to look upon him as a friend, to + seek his sympathy and help. In time they learnt to love him. + </p> + <p> + Two years passed, and a son was born. The village people crowded upon him + with congratulations, and mothers of wide experience praised the boy till + Mrs. Conneally’s heart swelled in her with pride. He was christened + Hyacinth, after a great pioneer and leader of the mission work. The naming + was Mr. Conneally’s act of contrition for the forsaking of his enthusiasm, + his recognition of the value of a zeal which had not flagged. Failing the + attainment of greatness, the next best thing is to dedicate a new life to + a patron saint who has won the reward of those who endure to the end. For + two years more life in the glebe house was rapturously happy. Such bliss + has in it, no doubt, an element of sin, and it is not good that it should + endure. This was to be seen afterwards in calmer times, though hardly at + the moment when the break came. There was a hope of a second child, a + delightful time of expectation; then an accident, the blighting of the + hope, and in a few days the death of Mrs. Conneally. Her husband buried + her, digging the first grave in the rocky ground that lay around the + little church. + </p> + <p> + For a time Mr. Conneally was stunned by his sorrow. He stopped working + altogether, ceased to think, even to feel. Men avoided him with + instinctive reverence at first, and afterwards with fear, as he wandered, + muttering to himself, among the sandhills and along the beach. After a + while the power of thought and a sense of the outward things of life + returned to him. He found that an aged crone from the village had + established herself in his house, and was caring for Hyacinth. He let her + stay, and according to her abilities she cooked and washed for him and the + boy, neither asking wages nor taking orders from him, until she died. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth grew and throve amazingly. From morning till evening he was in + the village, among the boats beside the little pier, or in the fields, + when the men worked there. Everyone petted and loved him, from Father + Moran, the priest who had started the national school, down to old Shamus, + the crippled singer of interminable Irish songs and teller of heroic + legends of the past. It was when he heard the boy repeat a story of Finn + MacCool to the old crone in the kitchen that Mr. Conneally awoke to the + idea that he must educate his son. He began, naturally enough, with Irish, + for it was Irish, and not English, that Hyacinth spoke fluently. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards the English alphabet followed, though not for the sake of + reading books, for except the Bible and the Prayer-Book Hyacinth was + taught to read no English books. He learned Latin after a fashion, not + with nice attention to complexities of syntax, but as a language meant to + be used, read, and even spoken now and then to Father Moran. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the passage of the years brought changes to Carrowkeel. The + Admiralty established a coastguard station near the village, and arranged, + for the greater security of the Empire, that men in blue-serge clothes + should take it in turns to look at the Atlantic through a telescope. Then + the unquiet spirit of the Congested Districts Board possessed the place + for a while. A young engineer designed a new pier to shelter + fishing-boats. He galvanized the people into unwonted activity, and, + though sceptical of good results, they earned a weekly wage by building + it. Boats came, great able boats, which fought the Atlantic, and the old + curraghs were left to blister in the sun far up on the beach. Instructors + from the Isle of Man taught new ways of catching mackerel. Green patches + between the cottages and the sea, once the playground of pigs and + children, or the marine parade of solemn lines of geese, were spread with + brown nets. On May mornings, if the take was good, long lines of carts + rattled down the road carrying the fish to the railway at Clifden, and the + place bore for a while the appearance of vitality. A vagrant Englishman + discovered that lobsters could be had almost for the asking in Carrowkeel. + The commercial instincts of his race were aroused in him. + </p> + <p> + He established a trade between the villagers and the fishmongers of + Manchester. The price of lobsters rose to the unprecedented figure of four + shillings a dozen, and it was supposed that even so the promoter of the + scheme secured a profit. + </p> + <p> + To Æneas Conneally, growing quietly old, the changes meant very little. + The coastguards, being bound by one of the articles of the British + Constitution, came to church on Sunday mornings with exemplary regularity, + and each man at fixed intervals brought a baby to be christened and a + woman to be churched. Otherwise they hardly affected Mr. Conneally’s life. + The great officials who visited Carrowkeel to survey the benignant + activities of the Congested Districts Board were men whose magnificent + intellectual powers raised them above any recognised form of Christianity. + Neither Father Moran’s ministrations nor Mr. Conneally’s appealed to them. + </p> + <p> + The London committee of the mission to Roman Catholics made no inquiry + about what was going on at Carrowkeel. They asked for no statistics, + expected no results, but signed quarterly cheques for Mr. Conneally, + presuming, one may suppose, that if he had ceased to exist they would + somehow have heard of it. + </p> + <p> + By far the most important event for Hyacinth and his father was the death + of their old housekeeper. In the changed state of society in Carrowkeel it + was found impossible to secure the services of another. Hyacinth, at this + time about fifteen years old, took to the housework without feeling that + he was doing anything strange or unmanly. He was familiar with the + position of ‘bachelor boys’ who, having grown elderly under the care of a + mother, preferred afterwards the toil of their own kitchens to the + uncertain issue of marrying a girl to ‘do for them.’ Life under their + altered circumstances was simplified. It seemed unnecessary to carry a + meal from the room it was cooked in to another for the purpose of eating + it, so the front rooms of the house, with their tattered furniture, were + left to moulder quietly in the persistent damp. One door was felt to be + sufficient for the ingress and egress of two people from a house. The + kitchen door, being at the back of the house, was oftenest the sheltered + one, so the front door was bolted, and the grass grew up to it. One by + one, as Hyacinth’s education required, the Latin and Greek books were + removed from the forsaken study, and took their places among the + diminishing array of plates and cups on the kitchen dresser. The spreading + and removal of a tablecloth for every meal came to be regarded as foolish + toil. When room was required on the table for plates, the books and papers + were swept on one side. A pile of potatoes, and the pan, with bacon or a + fish perhaps still frizzling in it, was set in the place left vacant. + </p> + <p> + Morning and evening Æneas Conneally expected his son to join with him in + prayer. The two knelt together on the earthen floor facing the window, + while the old man meditated aloud on Divine things. There were breaks in + his speech and long silences, so that sometimes it was hard to tell when + his prayer had really ended. These devotions formed a part of his father’s + life into which Hyacinth never really entered at all. He neither rebelled + nor mocked. He simply remained outside. So when his father wandered off to + solitary places on the seashore, and sat gazing into the sunset or a + gathering storm, Hyacinth neither followed nor questioned him. Sometimes + on winter nights when the wind howled more fiercely than usual round the + house, the old man would close the book they read together, and repeat + aloud long passages from the Apocalypse. His voice, weak and wavering at + first, would gather strength as he proceeded, and the young man listened, + stirred to vague emotion over the fall of Babylon the Great. + </p> + <p> + For the most part Hyacinth’s time was his own. Even the hours of study + were uncertain. He read when he liked, and his father seemed content with + long days of idleness followed by others of application. It was, indeed, + only owing to his love of what he read that the boy learned at all. Often + while he tramped from his home to the village at midday his heart was hot + within him with some great thought which had sprung to him from a hastily + construed chorus of Euripides. Sometimes he startled the fishermen when he + went with them at night by chanting Homer’s rolling hexameters through the + darkness while the boat lay waiting, borne gunwale down to the black water + with the drag of the net that had been shot. + </p> + <p> + There was a tacit understanding that Hyacinth, like his father, was to + take Holy Orders. He matriculated in Trinity College when he was eighteen, + and, as is often done by poorer students, remained at home, merely passing + the required examinations, until he took his degree, and the time came for + his entering the divinity school. Then it became necessary for him to + reside in Dublin, and the first great change in his life took place. + </p> + <p> + The night before he left home he and his father sat together in the + kitchen after they had finished their evening meal. For a long time + neither of them spoke. Hyacinth held a book in his hand, but scarcely + attempted to read it. His thoughts wandered from hopeful expectation of + what the future was to bring him and the new life was to mean, to vague + regrets, weighted with misgivings, which would take no certain shape. + There crowded upon him recollections of busy autumn days when the grain + harvest overtook the belated hay-making, and men toiled till late in the + fields; of long nights in the springtime when he tugged at the + fishing-nets, and felt the mackerel slipping and flapping past his feet in + the darkness; of the longer winter nights when he joined the gatherings of + the boys and girls to dance jigs and reels on the earthen floor of some + kitchen. It seemed now that all this was past and over for him. Holiday + time would bring him back to Carrowkeel, but would it be the same? Would + he be the same? + </p> + <p> + He looked at his father, half hoping for sympathy; but the old man sat + gazing—it seemed to Hyacinth stupidly—into the fire. He + wondered if his father had forgotten that this was their last evening + together. Then suddenly, without raising his eyes, the old man began to + speak, and it appeared that he, too, was thinking of the change. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know, my son, what they will teach you in their school of + divinity. I have long ago forgotten all I learned there, and I have not + missed the knowledge. It does not seem to me now that what they taught me + has been of any help in getting to know Him.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused for a long time. Hyacinth was familiar enough with his father’s + ways of speech to know that the emphatic ‘Him’ meant the God whom he + worshipped. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is, I am sure, only one way in which we can become His friends. <i>These + are they which have come out of great tribulation!</i> You remember that, + Hyacinth? That is the only way. You may be taught truths about Him, but + they matter very little. You have already great thoughts, burning + thoughts, but they will not of themselves bring you to Him. The other way + is the only way. Shall I wish it for you, my son? Shall I give it to you + for my blessing? May great tribulation come upon you in your life! <i>Great + tribulation!</i> See how weak my faith is even now at the very end. I + cannot give you this blessing, although I know very well that it is the + only way. I know this, because I have been along this way myself, and it + has led me to Him.’ + </p> + <p> + Again he paused. It did not seem to Hyacinth to be possible to say + anything. He was not sure in his heart that the friendship of the Man of + Sorrows was so well worth having that he would be content to pay for it by + accepting such a benediction from his father. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall do this for you, Hyacinth: I shall pray that when the choice is + given you, the great choice between what is easy and what is hard, the + right decision may be made for you. I do not know in what form it will + come. Perhaps it will be as it was with me. He made the choice for me, for + indeed I could not have chosen for myself. He set my feet upon the narrow + way, forced me along it for a while, and now at the end I see His face.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had heard enough of the brief bliss of his father’s married life + to understand. He caught for the first time a glimpse of the meaning of + the solitary life, the long prayers, and the meditations. He was + profoundly moved, but it did not even then seem to him desirable to choose + such a way, or to have such attainment thrust on him. + </p> + <p> + Next morning the autumn sunlight chased the recollection of his emotion + from his mind. The fishermen stopped his car as he drove through the + street to shake hands with him. Their wives shouted familiar blessings + from the cabin doors. Father Moran came bare-headed to the gate of his + presbytery garden and waved a farewell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + There is that about the material fabric, the actual stone and mortar, of + Trinity College, Dublin, which makes a vivid appeal to the imagination of + the common man. The cultured sentimentalist will not indeed be able to + lave his soul in tepid emotion while he walks through these quadrangles, + as he may among the cloisters and chapels of the Oxford colleges. The + amateur of the past cannot here stand at gaze before any single building + as he does before the weather-beaten front of Oriel, tracing in + imagination the footsteps of Newman or Arnold. Yet to the average man, and + far more to the newly emancipated schoolboy, Trinity College, Dublin, + makes an appeal which can hardly be ignored. In Oxford and Cambridge town + and University are mixed together; shops jostle and elbow colleges in the + streets. In Dublin a man leaves the city behind him when he enters the + college, passes completely out of the atmosphere of the University when he + steps on to the pavement. The physical contrast is striking enough, + appealing to the ear and the eye. The rattle of the traffic, the jangling + of cart bells, the inarticulate babel of voices, suddenly cease when the + archway of the great entrance-gate is passed. + </p> + <p> + An immense silence takes their place. There is no longer any need for + watchfulness, nor risk of being hustled by the hurrying crowds. Instead of + footway and street crossing there are broad walks, untrodden stretches of + smooth grass. The heavy campanile is in front, and heights of gray + building frown down on each side. It needs no education, not even any + imagination, to appreciate the change. It is not necessary to know that + great scholars inhabited the place, to recall any name or any man’s + career. The appeal is not to a recollected impression of the Middle Ages, + or indeed of any past, remote or near. It is the spirit of scholarship + itself, abstract, intangible, which creates this atmosphere. Knowledge, a + severe goddess, awes while she beckons. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally had submitted himself to such emotions time after time + when, fresh from the wilds of Connemara, he made his way to the + examination-hall, an outside student in a borrowed cap and gown. Now, when + for the first time he entered into the actual life of the college, could + look up at windows of rooms that were his own, and reckon on his privilege + of fingering tomes from the shelves of the huge library, the spirit of the + place awed him anew. He neither analyzed nor attempted an expression of + what he felt, but his first night within the walls was restless because of + the inspiration which filled him. + </p> + <p> + Yet this college does not fail to make an appeal also to the thinking + mind, only it is a strange appeal, tending to sadness. The sudden silence + after the tumult of the streets has come for some minds to be the symbol + of a divorce between the knowledge within and the life without. And this + is not the separation which must always exist between thought and action, + the gulf fixed between the student and the merchant. It is a real divorce + between the nation and the University, between the two kinds of life which + ought, like man and woman, to complete each other through their very + diversity, but here have gone hopelessly apart. Never once through all the + centuries of Ireland’s struggle to express herself has the University felt + the throb of her life. It is true that Ireland’s greatest patriots, from + Swift to Davis, have been her children; but she has never understood their + spirit, never looked on them as anything but strangers to her family. They + have been to her stray robber wasps, to be driven from the hive; while to + the others they have seemed cygnets among her duckling brood. It is very + wonderful that the University alone has been able to resist the glamour of + Ireland’s past, and has failed to admire the persistency of her + nationality. There has surely been enough in every century that has passed + since the college was founded to win it over from alien thought and the + ideals of the foreigner. + </p> + <p> + All this Hyacinth came to feel afterwards, and learnt in bitterness of + spirit to be angry at the University’s isolation from Irish life. At first + quite other thoughts crowded upon his mind. He felt a rebellion against + his father’s estimate of what he was to learn. It seemed to him that he + had come into vital touch with the greatest life of all. He was to join + the ranks of those who besieged the ears of God for knowledge, and left + behind them to successors yet unborn great traditions of the enigmas they + had guessed. In entering upon the study of theology he seemed to become a + soldier in the sacred band, the élite of the army which won and guarded + truth. Already he was convinced that there could be no greater science + than the Divine one, no more inspiring moment in life than this one when + he took his first step towards the knowledge of God. + </p> + <p> + He crossed the quadrangle with his mind full of such thoughts, and joined + a group of students round the door of one of the examination-halls. It did + not shock his sense of fitness that some of his fellow-students in the + great science wore shabby clothes, or that others scorned the use of a + razor. Bred as he had been at home, he felt no incongruity between dirty + collars and the study of divinity. It was not until he caught scraps of + conversation that he experienced an awakening from his dream. One eager + group surrounded a foreseeing youth who had written the dates of the first + four General Councils of the Church upon his shirt-cuff. + </p> + <p> + ‘Read them out, like a good man,’ said one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold on a minute,’ said another, ‘till I see if I have got them right. I + ground them up specially this morning. Nicæa, 318—no, hang it! + that’s the number of Bishops who were present; 325 was the date, wasn’t + it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was the row about at Chalcedon?’ asked a tall, pale youth. ‘Didn’t + some monk or other go for Cyril of Alexandria?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll be stuck anyhow, Tommy,’ said a neat, dapper little man with a + very ragged gown. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth slipped past the group, and approached two better dressed + students who stood apart from the others. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is this,’ he asked, ‘where the entrance examination to the divinity + school is to be held?’ + </p> + <p> + For answer he received a curt ‘Yes’ and a stare. Apparently his suit of + brown Connemara homespun did not commend him to these aristocrats. They + turned their backs on him, and resumed their conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘She was walking up and down the pier listening to the band with two of + the rankest outsiders you ever set eyes on—medicals out of Paddy + Dunn’s. Of course I could do nothing else but break it off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you were engaged to her, then? I didn’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I was and I wasn’t. Anyhow, I thought it better to have a clear + understanding. She came up to me outside the door of Patrick’s on Sunday + afternoon just as if nothing had happened. “Hullo, Bob,” says she; “I + haven’t seen you for ages.” “My name,” said I, “is Mr. Banks”—just + like that, as cool as you please. I could see she felt it. “I’ve called + you Bob,” says she, very red in the face, “and you’ve called me Maimie + ever since we went to Sunday-school together, and I’m not going to begin + calling you Mr. Banks now, my boy-o! so don’t you think it!”’ + </p> + <p> + It was a relief to Hyacinth when he was tapped on the arm by a boy with a + very pimply face, who thrust a paper into his hand, and distracted his + attention from the final discomfiture of Maimie, which Mr. Banks was + recounting in a clear, high-pitched voice, as if he wished everyone in the + neighbourhood to hear it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope you’ll come,’ said the boy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all in the paper. The students’ prayer-meeting, held every Wednesday + morning at nine o’clock sharp. Special meeting to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was bewildered. There was something quite unfamiliar in this + prompt and business-like advertisement of prayer. The student with the + papers began to be doubtful of him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not High Church, are you?’ he asked. ‘We’re not. We don’t have + printed offices, with verses and responds, and that sort of thing. We have + extempore prayer by members of the union.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; I’m not High Church,’ said Hyacinth—‘at least, I think not. I + don’t really know much about these things. I’ll be very glad to go to your + meeting.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right,’ said the other. ‘All are welcome. There will be special + prayer to-morrow for the success of the British arms. I suppose you heard + that old Kruger has sent an ultimatum. There will be war at once.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden movement among the students; gowns were pulled straight + and caps adjusted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here he comes,’ said someone. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry, the divinity professor, crossed the square rapidly. He was a + middle-aged man, stout, almost ponderous, in figure; but he held himself + rigidly upright, and walked fast across the square. The extreme neatness + of his clothes contrasted with the prevailing shabbiness of the students + and the assistant lecturers who followed him. Yet he did not seem to be a + man who gave to externals more than their due share of consideration. His + broad forehead gave promise of great intellectual power, a promise half + belied by the narrow gray eyes beneath it. These were eyes which might see + keenly, and would certainly see things just as they are, though they were + not likely to catch any glimpse of that greater world where objects cannot + be focussed sharply. Yet in them, an odd contradiction, there lurked a + possibility of humorous twinkling. The man was capable perhaps of the + broad tolerance of the great humorist, certainly of very acute perception + of life’s minor incongruities. His thin lips were habitually pressed + together, giving a suggestion of strength to the set of his mouth. A man + with such a mouth can think and act, but not feel either passionately or + enduringly. He will direct men because he knows his own mind, but is not + likely to sway them because he will always be master of himself, and will + not become enslaved to any great enthusiasm. The students trooped into the + hall, and the examination began. The assistant lecturers helped in the + work. Each student was called up in turn, asked a few questions, and given + a portion of the Greek Testament to translate. For the most part their + capacities were known beforehand. There were some who had won honours in + their University course before entering the divinity school. For them the + examiners were all smiles, and the business of the day was understood to + be perfunctory. Others were recognised as mere pass men, whom it was + necessary to spur to some exertion. A few, like Hyacinth, were unknown. + These were the poorer students who had not been able to afford to reside + at the University sooner than was absolutely necessary. Their knowledge, + generally scanty, was received by the examiners with undisguised contempt. + It fell to Hyacinth’s lot to present himself to Dr. Henry. He did so + tremulously. + </p> + <p> + The professor inquired his name, and looked him over coldly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Read for me,’ he said, handing him a Greek Testament. The passage marked + was St. Paul’s great description of charity. It was very familiar to + Hyacinth, and he read it with a serious feeling for the words. Dr. Henry, + who at first had occupied himself with some figures on a sheet of paper, + looked up and listened attentively. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where were you at school,’ he asked. ‘Who taught you Greek?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My father taught me, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! You have got a very peculiar pronunciation, and you’ve made an + extraordinary number of mistakes in accentuation and quantity, but you’ve + read as if St. Paul meant something. Now translate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have given me,’ he said, when Hyacinth had finished, ‘the Authorized + Version word for word. Can you do no better than that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can do it differently,’ said Hyacinth, ‘not better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know any Greek outside of the New Testament?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth repeated a few lines from Homer. + </p> + <p> + ‘That book of the “Odyssey” is not in the college course,’ said Dr. Henry. + ‘How did you come to read it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had no explanation to give. He had read the book, it seemed, + without being forced, and without hope of getting a prize. He recited it + as if he liked it. The remainder of the examination disclosed the fact + that he was lamentably deficient in the rudiments of Greek grammar, and + had the very vaguest ideas of the history of the Church. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards Professor Henry discussed the new class with his assistants as + they crossed the square together. + </p> + <p> + ‘The usual lot,’ said Dr. Spenser—‘half a dozen scholars, perhaps + one man among them with real brains. The rest are either idlers or, what + is worse, duffers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hit on one man with brains,’ said Dr. Henry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Thompson, I suppose. I saw that you took him. He did well in his + degree exam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Dr. Henry; ‘the man I mean has more brains than Thompson. He’s + a man I never heard of before. His name is Conneally. He looks as if he + came up from the wilds somewhere. He has hands like an agricultural + labourer, and a brogue that I fancy comes from Galway. But he’s a man to + keep an eye on. He may do something by-and-by if he doesn’t go off the + lines. We must try and lick him into shape a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally knew extremely little about the politics, foreign or + domestic, of the English nation. His father neither read newspapers nor + cared to discuss such rumours of the doings of Governments as happened to + reach Carrowkeel. On the other hand, he knew a good deal about the history + of Ireland, and the English were still for him the ‘new foreigners’ whom + Keating describes. His intercourse with the fishermen and peasants of the + Galway seaboard had intensified his vague dislike of the series of + oscillations between bullying and bribery which make up the story of + England’s latest attempts to govern Ireland. Without in the least + understanding the reasons for the war in South Africa, he felt a strong + sympathy with the Boers. To him they seemed a small people doomed, if they + failed to defend themselves, to something like the treatment which Ireland + had received. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore with surprise, almost with horror, that he listened for + the first time to the superlative Imperialism of the Protestant Unionist + party when he attended the prayer-meeting to which he had been invited. + The room was well filled with students, who joined heartily in the singing + of ‘Onward, Christian soldiers,’ a hymn selected as appropriate for the + occasion. An address by the chairman, a Dublin clergyman, followed. + According to this gentleman the Boers were a psalm-singing but + hypocritical nation addicted to slave-driving. England, on the other hand, + was the pioneer of civilization, and the nursing-mother of missionary + enterprise. It was therefore clear that all good Christians ought to pray + for the success of the British arms. The speech bewildered rather than + irritated Hyacinth. The mind gasps for a time when immersed suddenly in an + entirely new view of things, and requires time to adjust itself for + pleasure or revolt, just as the body does when plunged into cold water. It + had never previously occurred to him that an Irishman could regard England + as anything but a pirate. Anger rapidly succeeded his surprise while he + listened to the prayers which followed. It was apparently open to any + student present to give utterance, as occasion offered, to his desires, + and a large number of young men availed themselves of the opportunity. + Some spoke briefly and haltingly, some laboriously attempted to adapt the + phraseology of the Prayer-Book to the sentiment of the moment, a few had + the gift of rapid and even eloquent supplication. These last were the + hardest to endure. They prefaced their requests with fantastic eulogies of + England’s righteousness, designed apparently for the edification of the + audience present in the flesh, for they invariably began by assuring the + Almighty that He was well aware of the facts, and generally apologized to + Him for recapitulating them. Hyacinth’s anger increased as he heard the + fervent groans which expressed the unanimous conviction of the justice of + the petitions. No one seemed to think it possible that the right could be + on the other side. + </p> + <p> + When the meeting was over, the secretary, whose name, it appeared, was + Mackenzie, greeted Hyacinth warmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Glad to have you with us,’ he said. ‘I hope you’ll always come. I shall + be delighted to propose you as a member of the union. Subscription one + shilling, to defray necessary expenses. In any case, whether you subscribe + or not, we shall be glad to have you with us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall never come again,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + Mackenzie drew back, astonished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not? Didn’t you like the meeting? I thought it was capital—so + informal and hearty. Didn’t you think it was hearty? But perhaps you are + High Church. Are you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth remembered that this identical question had been put to him the + day before by the pimply-faced boy who distributed leaflets. He wondered + vaguely at the importance which attached to the nickname. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not sure,’ he said, ‘that I quite know what you mean. You see, I + have only just entered the divinity school, and I hardly know anything + about theology. What is a High Churchman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it doesn’t require any theology to know that. It’s the simplest thing + in the world. A High Churchman is—well, of course, a High Churchman + sings Gregorian chants, you know, and puts flowers on the altar. There’s + more than that, of course. In fact, a High Churchman———’ + He paused and then added with an air of victorious conviction: ‘But anyhow + if you were High Church you would be sure to know it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well,’ said Hyacinth, turning to leave the room, ‘I don’t know + anything about it, so I suppose I’m not High Church.’ + </p> + <p> + Mackenzie, however, was not going to allow him to escape so easily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold on a minute. If you’re not High Church why won’t you come to our + meetings?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I can’t join in your prayers when I am not at all sure that + England ought to win.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good Lord!’ said Mackenzie. It is possible to startle even the secretary + of a prayer union into mild profanity. ‘You don’t mean to tell me you are + a Pro-Boer, and you a divinity student?’ + </p> + <p> + It had not hitherto struck Hyacinth that it was impossible to combine a + sufficient orthodoxy with a doubt about the invariable righteousness of + England’s quarrels. Afterwards he came to understand the matter better. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Mackenzie was not at heart an ill-natured man, and he would have + repudiated with indignation the charge of being a mischief-maker. He felt + after his conversation with Hyacinth much as most men would if they + discovered an unsuspected case of small-pox among their acquaintances. His + first duty was to warn the society in which he moved of the existence of a + dangerous man, a violent and wicked rebel. He repeated a slightly + exaggerated version of what Hyacinth had said to everyone he met. The + pleasurable sense of personal importance which comes with having a story + to tell grew upon him, and he spent the greater part of the day in seeking + out fresh confidants to swell the chorus of his commination. + </p> + <p> + In England at the time public opinion was roused to a fever heat of + patriotic enthusiasm, and the Irish Protestant Unionists were eager to + outdo even the music-halls in Imperialist sentiment, the students of + Trinity College being then, as ever, the ‘death or glory’ boys of Irish + loyalty. It is easy to imagine how Hyacinth’s name was whispered + shudderingly in the reading-room of the library, how his sentiments were + anathematized in the dining-hall at commons, how plots were hatched for + the chastisement of his iniquity over the fire in the evenings, when pipes + were lit and tea was brewed. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the week Hyacinth was in an exceedingly uncomfortable + position. Outside the lecture-rooms nobody would speak to him. Inside he + found himself the solitary occupant of the bench he sat on—a + position of comparative physical comfort, for the other seats were + crowded, but not otherwise desirable. A great English poet had just + composed a poem, which a musician, no doubt equally eminent, had set to a + noble tune. It embodied an appeal for funds for purposes not clearly + specified, and hazarded the experiment of rhyming ‘cook’s son’ with + ‘Duke’s son,’ which in less fervent times might have provoked the + criticism of the captious. It became the fashion in college to chant this + martial ode whenever Hyacinth was seen approaching. It was thundered out + by a choir who marched in step up and down his staircase. Bars of it were + softly hummed in his ear while he tried to note the important truths which + the lecturers impressed upon their classes. One night five musicians + relieved each other at the task of playing the tune on a concertina + outside his door. They commenced briskly at eight o’clock in the evening, + and the final sleepy version only died away at six the next morning. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry, who either did not know or chose to ignore the state of the + students’ feelings, advised Hyacinth to become a member of the Theological + Debating Society. The election to membership, he said, was a mere form, + and nobody was ever excluded. Hyacinth sent his name to the secretary, and + was blackbeaned by an overwhelming majority of the members. Shortly + afterwards the Lord-lieutenant paid a visit to the college, and the + students seized the chance of displaying their loyalty to the Throne and + Constitution. They assembled outside the library, which the representative + of Queen Victoria was inspecting under the guidance of the Provost and two + of the senior Fellows. It is the nature of the students of Trinity College + to shout while they wait for the development of interesting events, and on + this occasion even the library walls were insufficient to exclude the + noise. The excellent nobleman inside found himself obliged to cast round + for original remarks about the manuscript of the ‘Book of Kells,’ while + the air was heavy with the verses which commemorate the departure of + ‘fifty thousand fighting men’ to Table Bay. When at length he emerged on + the library steps the tune changed, as was right and proper, to ‘God save + the Queen.’ Strangely enough, Hyacinth had never before heard the national + anthem. It is not played or sung often by the natives of Connemara, and + although the ocean certainly forms part of the British Empire, the + Atlantic waves have not yet learned to beat out this particular melody. So + it happened that Hyacinth, without meaning to be offensive, omitted the + ceremony of removing his hat. A neighbour, joyful at the opportunity, + snatched the offending garment, and skimmed it far over the heads of the + crowd. A few hard kicks awakened Hyacinth more effectually to a sense of + his crime, and it was with a torn coat and many bruises that he escaped in + the end to the shelter of his rooms, less inclined to be loyal than when + he left them. + </p> + <p> + After a few weeks it became clear that the British armies in South Africa + were not going to reap that rich and unvarying crop of victories which the + valour of the soldiers and the ability of the generals deserved. The + indomitable spirit of the great nation rose to the occasion, and the + position of those who entertained doubts about the justice of the original + quarrel became more than ever unbearable. Hyacinth took to wandering by + himself through parts of the city in which he was unlikely to meet any of + his fellow-students. His soul grew bitter within him. The course of petty + persecution to which he was subjected hardened his original sentimental + sympathy with the Boer cause into a clearly defined hatred of everything + English. When he got clear of the college and the hateful sound of the + ‘cook’s son, Duke’s son’ tune, he tramped along, gloating quietly over the + news of the latest ‘regrettable incident.’ + </p> + <p> + He was very lonely and friendless, for not even the discomfiture of his + enemies can make up to a young man for the want of a friend to speak to. + An inexpressible longing for home came over him. There was a shop in a + by-street which exposed photographs of Galway scenery in its windows for a + time. Hyacinth used to go day by day to gaze at them. The modest front of + the Gaelic League Hyce was another haunt of his. He used to stand Debating + his eyes on the Irish titles of the books in the window, and repeating the + words he read aloud to himself until the passers-by turned to look at him. + Once he entered a low-browed, dingy shop merely because the owner’s name + was posted over the door in Gaelic characters. It was one of those shops + to be found in the back streets of most large towns which devote + themselves to a composite business, displaying newspapers, apples, + tobacco, and sweets for sale. The afternoon light, already growing feeble + in the open air, had almost deserted the interior of the shop. At first + Hyacinth saw nothing but an untidy red-haired girl reading in a corner by + the light of a candle. He asked her for cigarettes. She rose, and laid her + book and the candle on the counter. It was one of O’Growney’s Irish + primers, dirty and pencilled. Hyacinth’s heart warmed to her at once. Was + she not trying to learn the dear Irish which the barefooted girls far away + at home shouted to each other as they dragged the seaweed up from the + shore? Then from the far end of the shop he heard a man’s voice speaking + Irish. It was not the soft liquid tongue of the Connaught peasants, but a + language more regular and formal. The man spoke it as if it were a + language he had learned, comparatively slowly and with effort. Yet the + sound of it seemed to Hyacinth one of the sweetest things he had ever + heard. Not even the shrinking self-distrust which he had been taught by + repeated snubbings and protracted ostracism could prevent him from making + himself known to this stranger. + </p> + <p> + ‘The blessing of God upon Ireland!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + There was not a moment’s hesitation on the part of the stranger. The sound + of the Gaelic was enough for him. He stretched out both hands to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it that you also are one of us—one of the Gaels?’ he asked. + Hyacinth seized the outstretched hands and held them tight. The feeling of + offered friendship and companionship warmed him with a sudden glow. He + felt that his eyes were filling with tears, and that his voice would break + if he tried to speak, but he did not care at all. He poured out a long + Gaelic greeting, scarcely knowing what he said. Perhaps neither the man + whose hands he held nor the owner of the shop behind the counter fully + understood him, but they guessed at his feelings. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it that you are a stranger here and lonely? Where is your home? What + name is there on you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maiseadh, I am a stranger indeed and lonely too,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a stranger no longer, then. We are all of us friends with each + other. You speak our own dear tongue, and that is enough to make us + friends.’ + </p> + <p> + The tobacconist, it appeared, also spoke Irish of a kind. He cast + occasional remarks into the conversation which followed, less, it seemed + to Hyacinth, with a view of giving expression to any thought than for the + sake of airing some phrases which he had somewhat inadequately learned. + Indeed, it struck Hyacinth very soon that his new friend was getting + rather out of his depth in his ‘own dear tongue.’ At last the tobacconist + said with a smile: + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid we must ask Mr. Conneally—didn’t you say that Conneally + was your name?—to speak the Beurla. I’m clean beaten with the + Gaelic, and you can’t go much further yourself, Cahal. Isn’t that the + truth, now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And small blame to me,’ said Cahal—in English, Charles—Maguire. + ‘After all, what am I but a learner? And it’s clear that Mr. Conneally has + spoken it since ever he spoke at all.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth smiled and nodded. Maguire went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you doing this afternoon? What do you say to coming round with + me to see Mary O’Dwyer? It’s her “at home” day, and I’m just on my way + there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I don’t know her. I can hardly go to her house, can + I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’ll introduce you,’ said Maguire cheerfully. ‘She allows me to bring + anyone I like to see her. She likes to know anyone who loves Ireland and + speaks Gaelic. Perhaps we’ll meet Finola too; she’s often there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Meet who?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Finola. That’s what we call Miss Goold—Augusta Goold, you know. We + call her Finola because she shelters the rest of us under her wings when + the Moyle gets tempestuous. You remember the story?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I do,’ said Hyacinth, who had learnt the tale of Lir’s daughter + as other children do Jack the Giant-Killer. ‘And who is Miss O’Dwyer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, she writes verses. Surely you know them?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth shook his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a pity! We all admire them immensely. She has something nearly every + week in the <i>Croppy</i>. She has just brought out a volume of lyrics. + Her brother worked the publishing of it in New York. He is mixed up with + literary people there. You must have heard of him at all events. He’s + Patrick O’Dwyer, one of the few who stood by O’Neill when he fought the + priests. He gave up the Parliamentary people after that. No honest man + could do anything else.’ + </p> + <p> + He conducted Hyacinth to one of the old squares on the north side of the + city. When the tide of fashion set southwards, spreading terraces and + villas from Leeson Street to Killiney, it left behind some of the finest + houses in Dublin. Nowadays for a comparatively low rent it is possible to + live in a splendid house if you do not aspire to the glory of a smart + address. Miss O’Dwyer’s house, for instance, boasted a spacious hall and + lofty sitting-rooms, with impressive ceilings and handsome fireplaces; yet + she paid for it little more than half the rent which a cramped villa in + Clyde Road would have cost her. Even so, it was somewhat of a mystery to + her friends how Miss O’Dwyer managed to live there. A solicitor who had + his offices on the ground-floor probably paid the rent of the whole house; + but the profits of verse-making are small, and a poetess, like meaner + women, requires food, clothes, and fire. Indeed, Miss O’Dwyer, no longer + ‘M. O’D.,’ whose verses adorned the <i>Croppy</i>, but ‘Miranda,’ served + an English paper as Irish correspondent. It was a pity that a pen + certainly capable of better things should have been employed in describing + the newest costume of the Lord Lieutenant’s wife at Punchestown, or the + confection of pale-blue tulle which, draped round Mrs. Chesney, adorned a + Castle ball. Miss O’Dwyer herself was heartily ashamed of the work, but it + was, or appeared to her to be, necessary to live, and even with the aid of + occasional remittances from Patrick in New York, she could scarcely have + afforded her friends a cup of tea without the guineas earned by torturing + the English language in a weekly chronicle of Irish society’s clothes. + Even with the help of such earnings, poverty was for ever tapping her on + the shoulder, and no one except Mary herself and her one maid-servant knew + how carefully fire and light had to be economized in the splendid rooms + where an extinct aristocracy had held revels a century before. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth and his friend advanced past the solicitor’s doors, and up the + broad staircase as far as the drawing-room. For a time they got no further + than the threshold. The opening of the door was greeted with a long-drawn + and emphatic ‘Hush!’ from the company within. Maguire laid his hand on + Hyacinth’s arm, and the two stood still looking into the room. What was + left of the feeble autumn twilight was almost excluded by half-drawn + curtains. No lamp was lit, and the fire cast only fitful rays here and + there through the room. It was with difficulty that Hyacinth discerned + figures in a semicircle, and a slim woman in a white dress standing apart + from the others near the fire. Then he heard a voice, a singularly sweet + voice, as it seemed to him, reciting with steady emphasis on the syllables + which marked the rhythm of the poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Out there in the West, where the heavy gray clouds are + insistent, + Where the sky stoops to gather the earth into mournful + embraces, + Where the country lies saturate, sodden, round saturate + hamlets— + + ‘Out there in the sunset where rages and surges Atlantic, + And the salt is commingled with rain over desolate beaches, + Thy heart, O beloved, is still beating—fitfully, feebly. + + ‘Is beating—ah! not as it beat in the squadrons of Sarafield, + Exultantly, joyously, gladly, expectant of battle, + With throbs like the notes of the drums when men gather for + fighting. + + ‘Beats still; but, ah! not as it beat in the latest Fitzgerald, + Nobly devote to his race’s most noble tradition; + Or in Emmet or Davis, or, last on their list, in O’Brien. + + ‘Beats fitfully, feebly. O desolate mother! O Erin! + When shall the pulse of thy life, which but flutters in + Connaucht, + Throb through thy meadows and boglands, and mountains and + cities?’ +</pre> + <p> + A subdued murmur of applause greeted the close of the recitation, and + praise more sincere than that with which politeness generally greets the + drawing-room performances of minor poets. Hyacinth joined in neither. It + seemed to him that the verses were too beautiful to speak about, so sacred + that praise was a kind of sacrilege. Perhaps some excuse may be found for + his emotion in the fact that for weeks he had heard no poetry except the + ode about ‘wiping something off a slate.’ The violence of the contrast + benumbed his critical faculty. So a man who was obliged to gaze for a long + time at the new churches erected in Belfast might afterwards catch himself + in the act of admiring the houses which the Congested Districts Board + builds in Connaught. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid I must have bored you.’ It was Miss O’Dwyer who greeted him. + ‘I didn’t see you and Mr. Maguire come in until I had commenced my poor + little poem. I ought to have given you some tea before I inflicted it on + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it was beautiful. Is it really your own? Did you + write it?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer flushed. The vehement sincerity of his tone embarrassed her, + though she was accustomed to praise. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very kind,’ she said. ‘All my friends here are far too kind to + me. But come now, I must give you some tea.’ + </p> + <p> + The tea was nearly stone cold and weak with frequent waterings. The saucer + and spoon, possibly even the cup, had been used by someone else before. + Mr. Maguire secured for himself the last remaining morsel of cake, leaving + Hyacinth the choice between a gingerbread biscuit and a torn slice of + bread and butter. None of these things appeared to embarrass Miss O’Dwyer. + They did not matter in the least to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know the West well?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, I do not. I’ve always longed to go and spend a whole long summer + there, but I’ve never had the chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then how did you know it was like that? I mean, how did you catch the + spirit of it in your poem?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did I?’ she said. ‘I am so glad. But I don’t deserve any credit for it. I + wrote those verses after I had been looking at one of Jim Tynan’s + pictures. You know them, of course? No? Oh, but you must go and see them + at once if you love the West. And you do, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is my home,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished his tea she introduced him to some of the people who + were in the room. Afterwards he came to know them, but the memories which + Miss O’Dwyer’s verses called up in him made him absent and preoccupied. He + scarcely heard the names she spoke. Soon the party broke up, and Hyacinth + turned to look for Maguire. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid Mr. Maguire has gone,’ said Miss O’Dwyer. ‘He has a lecture to + attend this afternoon. You must come here again, Mr. Conneally. Come next + Wednesday—every Wednesday, if you like. We can have a talk about the + West. I shall want you to tell me all sorts of things. Perhaps Finola will + be here next week. She very often comes. I shall look forward to + introducing you to her. You are sure to admire her immensely. We all do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I’ve heard of her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘Mr. Maguire told me who she + was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but he couldn’t have told you half. She is magnificent. All the rest + of us are only little children compared to her. Now be sure you come and + meet her.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Ever since Pitt and Castlereagh perpetrated their Act of Union two political + parties have struggled together in Ireland. Both of them have been + steadily prominent, so prominent that they have sometimes attracted the + attention of the English public, and drawn to their contest a little quite + unintelligent interest. The simplest and most discernible line of division + between them is a religious one. The Protestant party has hitherto been + guided and led by the gentry. It has been steadily loyal to England and to + the English Government. It has not been greatly concerned about Ireland or + Ireland’s welfare, but has been consistently anxious to preserve its own + privileges, powers, and property. It has not come well out of the struggle + of the nineteenth century. Its Church has been disestablished, its + privileges and powers abolished, and the last remnants of its property are + being filched from it. It is a curious piece of irony that this party + should have hastened its own defeat by the very policy adopted to secure + victory. No doubt the Irish aristocracy would have suffered less if they + had been seditious instead of loyal. The Roman Catholic party has been led + by ecclesiastics, and has always included the bulk of the people. Its + leaders have not cared for the welfare of Ireland any more than the + Protestant party, but they have always pretended that they did, being in + this respect much wiser than their opponents. They have pulled the strings + of a whole series of political movements, and made puppets dance on and + off the stage as they chose. Also they have understood how to deal with + England. Unlike the Protestant party, they have never been loyal, because + they knew from the first that England gives most to those who bully or + worry her. They have kept one object steadily in view, an object quite as + selfish in reality as that of the aristocracy—the aggrandisement of + their Church. For this they have been prepared at any time to sacrifice + the interests of Ireland, and are content at the present moment to watch + the country bleeding to death with entire complacency. The leaders of this + party enter upon the twentieth century in sight of their promised land. + They possess all the power and nearly all the wealth of Ireland. If the + Bishops can secure the continuance of English government for the next + half-century Ireland will have become the Church’s property. Her money + will go to propagating the faith. Her children will supply the + English-speaking world with a superfluity of priests and nuns. + </p> + <p> + Outside both parties there have always been a few men united by no ties of + policy or religion, unless, as perhaps we may, we call patriotism a kind + of religion. Other lands have been loved sincerely, devotedly, + passionately, as mothers, wives, and mistresses are loved. Ireland alone + has been loved religiously, as men are taught to love God or the saints. + Her lovers have called themselves Catholic or Protestant: such + distinctions have not mattered to these men. They have scarcely ever been + able to form themselves into a party, never into a strong or a wise party. + They have been violent, desperate, frequently ridiculous, but always + sincere and unselfish. Their great weakness has lain in the fact that they + have had no consistent aim. Some of their leaders have looked for a return + to Ireland’s Constitution, and built upon the watchword of the volunteers, + ‘The King, the Lords, and the Commons of Ireland.’ Some have dreamed of a + complete independence, of an Irish republic shaping its own world policy. + Some have wholly distrusted politics, and given their strength to the + intellectual, spiritual, or material regeneration of the people. Among + these men have been found the sanest practical reformers and the wildest + revolutionary dreamers. On the outskirts of their company have hung all + sorts of people. Parliamentary politicians have leaned towards them, and + been driven straightway out of public life. Criminals have claimed + fellowship with them, and brought discredit upon honourable men. Poets and + men of letters have drawn their inspiration from their strivings, and in + return have decked their patriotism with imperishable splendour. In the + future, no doubt, the struggle will lie between this party and the + hitherto victorious hierarchy, with England for ally, and the fight seems + a wholly unequal one. It was into an advanced and vehement group of + patriots that Mary O’Dwyer introduced Hyacinth. He became a regular reader + of the <i>Croppy</i>, and made the acquaintance of most of the + contributors to its pages. He found them clever, enthusiastic, and + agreeable men and women, but, as he was forced to admit to himself, + occasionally reckless. One evening a discussion took place in Mary + O’Dwyer’s room which startled and shocked him. Excitement ran high over + the events of the war. The sympathies of the ‘Independent Irelanders,’ as + they called themselves, fiercely assertive even in their name, were of + course entirely with the Boers, and they received every report of an + English reverse with unmixed satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth entered the room he found four people there. Mary O’Dwyer + herself was making tea at a little table near the fire. Augusta Goold—the + famous Finola—was stretched in a deep chair smoking a cigarette. She + was a remarkable woman both physically and intellectually. It was her + delight to emphasize her splendid figure by draping it in brilliant reds + and yellows. To anyone who cared to speculate on such a subject it seemed + a mystery why her clothes remained on her when she walked. The laws of + gravity seemed to demand that they should loosen with her movements, + become detached, and finally drop down. Nothing of the sort had ever + happened, so it must be presumed that she had secret and unconventional + ways of fastening them. Similarly it was not easy to see why her hair + stayed upon her head. It was arranged upon no recognised system, and + suggested that she had perfected the art, known generally only to heroines + of romances, of twisting her tresses with a single movement into a loose + knot. That she affected white frills of immense complexity was frequently + evident, owing to the difficulty she experienced in confining her long + legs to feminine attitudes. Her complexion put it in the power of her + enemies to accuse her of familiarity with cosmetics—a slander, for + she had been observed to turn green during an attack of sea-sickness. She + had great brilliant eyes, which were capable of expressing intensity of + enthusiasm or hatred, but no one had ever seen them soften with any + emotion like love. Her attitude towards social conventions was symbolized + by her clothes. In the old days, when the houses of ‘society’ had still + been open to her, she was accustomed to challenge criticism by fondling a + pet monkey at tea-parties. Since she had lost caste by taking up the cause + of ‘Independent Ireland’ the ape had been discarded, and the same result + achieved by occasional bickerings with the police. She was an able public + speaker, and could convince her audiences for a time of the reasonableness + of opinions which next morning appeared to be the outcome of delirium. She + wrote, not, like Mary O’Dwyer, verse in which any sentiment may be + excused, but incisive and vigorous prose. Occasionally even the Castle + officials got glimmerings of the meaning of one of her articles, and + suppressed the whole issue of the <i>Croppy</i> in which it appeared. + </p> + <p> + Near her sat a much less remarkable person—Thomas Grealy, historian + and archaeologist. He had been engaged for many years on a history of + Ireland, but no volume of it had as yet appeared. His friends suspected + that he had got permanently stuck somewhere about the period of the + introduction of Christianity into the island. His essays, published in the + <i>Croppy</i>, dwelt with passionate regret on the departed glories of + Tara. He held strong views about the historical reality of the + Tuath-de-Danaan, and got irritated at the most casual mention of Dr. + Petrie’s theory of the round towers. He had proved that King Arthur was an + Irishman, with whose reputation Malory and Tennyson had taken + unwarrantable liberties. The name of Dante brought a smile of contempt to + his lips, for he knew that the ‘Purgatorio’ was stolen shamelessly from + the works of a monk of Cong. He nourished a secret passion for Finola. He + never ventured to declare it, but his imagination endowed every heroine, + from Queen Maev down to the foster daughter of the Leinster farmer who + married King Cormac, with Miss Goold’s figure, eyes and hair. It was + perhaps the burning of this passion which rendered him so cadaverous that + his clothes—in other respects also they looked as if they had been + bought in far-off happier days—hung round him like the covering of a + broken-ribbed umbrella. + </p> + <p> + The fourth person present was Timothy Halloran, who hovered about Mary + O’Dwyer’s tea-table. He was what the country people call a ‘spoilt + priest.’ Destined by simple and pious parents to take Holy Orders, he got + as far as the inside of Maynooth College. While there he had kicked a + fellow-student down the whole length of a long corridor for telling tales + to the authorities. A committee of ecclesiastics considered the case, and + having come to the conclusion that he lacked vocation for the priesthood, + sent him home. Timothy was accustomed to say that his violence might have + been passed over, but that his failure to appreciate the devotion to duty + which inspired the tale-bearer marked him decisively as unfit for + ordination. He never regretted his expulsion, although he complained + bitterly that he had been nearly choked before they cast him out. He + meant, it is to be supposed, that the effort to instil a proper reverence + for dogma had almost destroyed his capacity for thought, not that the + fingers of the reverend professors had actually closed around his + windpipe. His subsequent experiences had included a period of teaching in + an English Board School, a brief, but not wholly unsatisfactory, career as + a political organizer in New York, and a return to Ireland, where he + earned a precarious living as a journalist. + </p> + <p> + All four greeted Hyacinth warmly as he entered the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘We were just discussing,’ said Mary O’Dwyer, ‘the failure of our attempt + to organize a field hospital and a staff of nurses for the Boers. It is a + shame to have to admit that the English garrison in Ireland can raise + thousands of pounds for their war funds, and the Irish can’t be got to + subscribe a few hundreds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The wealth of the country,’ said Grealy, ‘is in the hands of a minority—the + so-called Loyalists.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Finola sharply. ‘If you ever gave a thought to anything + more recent than the High-King’s Court at Tara you would know that the + landlords are not the wealthy part of the community any longer. There’s + many a provincial publican calling himself a Nationalist who could buy up + the nearest landlord and every Protestant in the parish along with him. + I’m a Protestant myself, born and bred among the class you speak of, and I + know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re quite right, Miss Goold,’ said Tim. ‘The people could have given + the money if they liked. I attribute the failure of the fund to the apathy + or treachery of the priests, call it which you like. There isn’t a + Protestant church in the country where the parsons don’t preach “Give + give, give” to their people Sunday after Sunday. And what’s the result? + Why, they have raised thousands of pounds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘After the poem you published in last week’s <i>Croppy</i>,’ said Hyacinth + to Mary O’Dwyer, ‘I made sure the subscriptions would have come in. Your + appeal was one of the most beautiful things I ever read. It would have + touched the heart of a stone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poetry is all well enough,’ said Tim. ‘I admire your verses, Mary, as + much as anyone, but we want a collection at every church door after Mass. + That’s what we ought to have, but it’s exactly what we won’t get, because + the priests are West Britons at heart. They would pray for the Queen and + the army to-morrow, like Cardinal Vaughan, if they weren’t afraid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe,’ said Finola, ‘that we went the wrong way about the thing + altogether. We asked for a hospital, and we appealed to the people’s pity + for the wounded Boers. Nobody in Ireland cares a pin about the Boers. Why + on earth should we? From all I can hear they are a narrow-minded, + intolerant set of hypocrites. I’d just as soon read the stuff some fool of + an English newspaper man wrote about “our brother the Boer” as listen to + the maudlin sentiment our people talk. We don’t want to help the Boers. We + want to hurt the English.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you think——’ said Grealy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ went on Finola, ‘that we ought to have asked for volunteers to + go out and fight, instead of nurses to cocker up the men who are fools + enough to get themselves shot. We’d have got them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You would not,’ said Tim. ‘The clergy would have been dead against you. + They would have nipped the whole project in the bud without so much as + making a noise in doing it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s true,’ said Grealy. ‘Remember, Miss Goold, it was the priests who + cursed Tara, and the monks who broke the power of the Irish Kings. I + haven’t worked the thing out yet, but I mean to show——’ + </p> + <p> + Finola interrupted the poor man ruthlessly: + </p> + <p> + ‘Let’s try it, anyway. Let’s preach a crusade.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not the least bit of good,’ said Tim. ‘Every blackguard in the country is + enlisted already in the Connaught Bangers or the Dublin Fusiliers, or some + confounded Militia regiment. There’s nobody left but the nice, + respectable, goody-goody boys who wouldn’t leave their mothers or miss + going to confession if you went down on your knees to them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, the Irish troops ought to shoot their officers, and walk over + to the Boer camp,’ said Finola savagely. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth half smiled at what seemed to him a monstrous jest. Then, when he + perceived that she was actually in earnest, the smile froze into a kind of + grin. His hands trembled with the violence of his indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be devilish treachery,’ he blurted out. ‘The name of Irishman + will never be disgraced by such an act.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold flung her cigarette into the grate, and rose from her chair. + She stood over Hyacinth, her hands clenched and her bosom heaving rapidly. + Her eyes blazed down into his until their scorn cowed him. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no treachery possible for an Irishman,’ she said, ‘except the + one of fighting for England. Any deed against England—yes, <i>any</i> + deed—is glorious, and not shameful.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was utterly quelled. He ventured upon no reply. Indeed, not only + did her violence render argument undesirable—and it seemed for the + moment that he would find himself in actual grips with a furious Amazon—but + her words carried with them a certain conviction. It actually seemed to + him while she spoke as if a good defence might be made for Irish soldiers + who murdered their officers and deserted to an enemy in the field. It was + not until hours afterwards, when the vivid impression of Finola’s face had + faded from his recollection, when he had begun to forget the flash of her + eyes, the poise of her figure, and the glow of her draperies, that his + moral sense was able to reassert itself. Then he knew that she had spoken + wickedly. It might be right for an Irishman to fight against England when + he could. It might be justifiable to seize the opportunity of England’s + embarrassment to make a bid for freedom by striking a blow at the Empire. + So far his conscience went willingly, but that treachery and murder could + ever be anything but horrible he refused altogether to believe. + </p> + <p> + Another conversation in which he took part about this time helped Hyacinth + still further to understand the position of his new friends. Tim Halloran + and he were smoking and chatting together over the fire when Maguire + joined them. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked Halloran. ‘You look as if you’d been + at your mother’s funeral.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not so far out in your guess,’ said Maguire grimly. ‘I spent the + morning at my sister’s wedding. Would you like a bit of the cake?’ He + produced from his pocket a paper containing crushed fragments of white + sugar and a shapeless mass of citron and currants. ‘With the compliments + of the Reverend Mother,’ he said. ‘Try a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth do you mean?’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I assure you the Sisters of Pity do these things in style,’ said + Maguire. ‘It’s a pretty fancy, that of the wedding-cake, isn’t it? But + you’re a Protestant, Conneally; you don’t understand this delicate + playfulness. I was present to-day at the reception of my only sister into + the Institute of the Catholic Sisters of Pity, founded by Honoria + Kavanagh. I’ve lost Birdie Maguire, that’s all, the little girl that used + to climb on to my knee and kiss me, and instead of her there’s a Sister + Monica Mary, who will no doubt pray for my soul when she’s let.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was the figure in her case?’ asked Tim in a perfectly matter-of-fact + tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Six hundred pounds,’ said Maguire. ‘It must have put the old man to the + pin of his collar to pay it. The only time he ever talked to me about his + affairs he told me he had got four hundred pounds put by for Birdie’s + fortune, and that I was to have my medical course and whatever the old + shop would fetch when he was gone. They must have put the screw on pretty + tight to make him spring the extra two hundred. I dare say I shall suffer + for it in the end. He must have borrowed the money.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt intensely curious about this young nun. Like most + Protestants he had grown up to regard monasticism in all its forms as + something remote, partly horrible, wholly unintelligible. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did she do it?’ he asked. ‘What sort of a girl was she? Do you mind + telling me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in the least,’ said Maguire. ‘Only I’m not sure that I know. Three + years ago—that is, when I left home—she was the last sort of + girl you could imagine going into a convent. She was pretty, fond of nice + clothes and admiration, as keen as every girl ought to be on a dance. I + never supposed she had a thought of religion in her head—I mean, + beyond the usual confessions and attendances at Mass.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose,’ said Hyacinth, ‘your people wanted it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think so,’ said Maguire. ‘Perhaps my mother did. I don’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, Conneally,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘it is a sort of hall-mark of + respectability among people like Maguire’s to have a girl in a good + convent. A little lower down in the social scale, in the class I come + from, the boys are made priests. A doctor is a more expensive article to + manufacture, so Maguire’s father selected that line of life for him. Not + that they could have made a priest of you, Maguire, in any case. You’d + have disgraced Maynooth, as I did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I thought a vocation for the life + was necessary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, so it is,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘but, you see, there’s the period of + the novitiate. Given a girl at an impressionable age, the proper convent + atmosphere, and a prize of six hundred pounds for the Order, and it will + go hard with the Reverend Mother if she can’t work the girl up to a + vocation. It takes a man a lifetime to make six hundred pounds in a + country shop, but there’s many a one who does it by hard work and + self-denial; then down come the nuns and sweep it away, and it’s wasted. + It ought to be invested in a local factory or in waterworks, or gas-works, + or fifty other things that would benefit the town it’s made in. It ought + to be fructifying and bearing interest; instead of which off it goes to + Munich for stained glass, or to Italy for a marble altar. Is it any wonder + Ireland is crying out with poverty?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Maguire, ‘and that’s not the worst of it. I’d be content to + let them take the damned money and deck their churches with it, but the + girls—there are hundreds of them caught every year for nuns, and + swept out of life. It isn’t the Irish convents alone that get them. + American nuns come over and Australian nuns, and they go round and round + the country picking up girls here and there, and carry them off. There, I + don’t want to talk too much about it. The money is nothing, but the girls + and boys——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems strange to me,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that when you think that way you + should go on belonging to your Church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Desert the Church!’ said Maguire. ‘We’ll never do that. How could we live + without religion? And what other religion is there? I grant you that your + priests wouldn’t rob us, but—but think of the cold of it. You can’t + realize it, Conneally, but think what it would mean to a Catholic—a + religion without saints, without absolution, without sacrifice. Besides, + what we complain of is not Catholicism. It’s a parasitic growth destroying + the true faith, defiling the Church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Tim Halloran, ‘and even from my point of view how should we be + the better of a change? Your Church is ruled by old women who think the + name of Englishman the most glorious in the world. You preach loyalty, and + I believe you pray for the Queen in your services. A nice fool I would + feel praying that the Queen should have victory over her enemies.’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time afterwards this conversation dwelt in Hyacinth’s mind. Tim + Halloran he knew to be practically a freethinker, but Maguire regularly + heard Mass on Sundays, and often went to confession. It was a puzzle how + he could do so, feeling as he did about the religious Orders. So insistent + did the problem become to his mind that he found himself continually + leading the conversation round to it from one side or another. Mary + O’Dwyer told him that she also had a sister in a nunnery. + </p> + <p> + ‘She teaches girls to make lace, and wonderful work they do. She is + perfectly happy. I think her face is the sweetest and most beautiful thing + I have ever seen. There is not a line on it of care or of fretfulness. It + seems to me as if her whole life might be described as a quiet smile. I + always feel better by the mere recollection of her face for a long time + after I have visited her. Oh, I know it wouldn’t do for me. I couldn’t + stand it for a week. I should go mad with the quiet restraint of it all. + But my sister is happy. I can’t forget that. I suppose she has a + vocation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Vocation,’ said Hyacinth thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I can understand how that + would make all the difference. But how many of them have the vocation?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you think vocation might be learnt? I mean mightn’t one grow into + it, if one wished to very much, and if the life was constantly before + one’s eyes, beautiful and calm?’ + </p> + <p> + It was almost the same thought which Timothy Halloran had suggested. Mary + O’Dwyer spoke of growing into vocation, Tim of the working of it up. Was + there any difference except a verbal one? + </p> + <p> + On another occasion he spoke to Dr. Henry about the position of the Church + of Ireland in the country. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have proved,’ said the professor, ‘that the Roman claims have no + support in Scripture, history, or reason. Our books remain unanswered, + because they are unanswerable. We can do no more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We might offer the Irish people a Church which they could join,’ said + Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘We do. We offer them the Church of St. Patrick, the ancient, historic + Church of Ireland. We offer them the two Sacraments of the Gospel, + administered by priests duly ordained at the hands of an Episcopate which + goes back in an unbroken line to the Apostles. We present them the three + great creeds for their assent. We use a liturgy that is at once ancient + and pure. The Church of Ireland has all this, is beyond dispute a branch + of the great Catholic Church of Christ.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be all you say,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but it is not national. In + sentiment and sympathy it is English and not Irish.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what you mean,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I think I understand how you + feel, but I cannot consent to the conclusion you want to draw. There is no + real meaning in the cry for nationality. It is a sentiment, a fashion, and + will pass. Even if it were genuine and enduring, I hold it to be better + for Ireland to be an integral part of a great Empire than a contemptible + and helpless item among the nations of the world, a prey to the intrigues + of ambitious foreign statesmen.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth sighed and turned to go, but Dr. Henry laid a hand upon his + shoulder and detained him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Conneally,’ he said kindly, ‘let me give you a word of advice. Don’t mix + yourself up with your new friends too much. You will ruin your own + prospects in life if you do. There is nothing more fatal to a man among + the people with whom you and I are to live and work than the suspicion of + being tainted with Nationalist ideas. You can’t be both a rebel and a + clergyman. You see,’ he added with a smile, ‘I take enough interest in you + to know who your friends are, and what you are thinking about.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Augusta Goold’s scheme for enrolling Irish volunteers to help the Boers + was duly set forth in the next issue of the <i>Croppy</i>. It included two + appeals—one for money and one for men. The details were worked out + with the frank contempt for possibility which characterizes some of the + famous suggestions of Dean Swift. She had the same faculty that he had for + bringing absurdities within the range of the commonplace; but there was + this difference between them—Miss Goold quite believed in her own + plans, while the great Dean no doubt grinned over the proof-sheets of his + ‘Modest Proposal.’ + </p> + <p> + It happened, most unfortunately, that the appeal synchronized with + another, also for funds, which was issued by Mr. O’Rourke, the leader of + the Parliamentary party. Since the death of John O’Neill the purse of the + party had been getting lean. The old tactics which used to draw plaudits + and dollars from the United States, as well as a tribute from every parish + in Ireland, had lately been unsuccessful. There were still violent scenes + in the House of Commons, but they no longer produced anything except + contemptuous smiles. Members of Parliament still succeeded occasionally in + getting the Chief Secretary to imprison them, but the glory of martyrdom + was harder to win than in the old days. Latterly things had come to such a + pass that even the reduced stipends offered to the members fell into + arrear. The attendance at Westminster dropped away. The Government could + afford to smile at Mr. O’Rourke’s efforts to make himself disagreeable, + and the Opposition were frankly contemptuous of a people who could not + profit them by more than a dozen votes in a critical division. It became + impossible to wring even a modest Land Bill from the Prime Minister, and + Mr. Chesney, now much at ease in the Secretary’s office in the Castle, + scarcely felt it necessary to be civil to deputations which wanted + railways. It was clear that something must be done, or Mr. O’Rourke’s + business would disappear. He decided to appeal for funds <i>orbi et urbi</i>. + The world—in this case North America—was to be visited, + exhorted, and, it was hoped, taxed by some of his most eloquent + lieutenants. Even Canada, with its leaven of Orangemen, was to be honoured + with the speeches of an orator of second-rate powers. The city—Dublin, + of course—was the chosen scene of the leader’s personal exertions. + Since his revolt against John O’Neill, O’Rourke had been a little shy of + Dublin audiences, but the pressing nature of the present crisis almost + forced him to pay his court to the capital. He found some comfort in the + recollection that during the five years that had elapsed since O’Neill’s + death he had missed no public opportunity of shedding tears beside his + tomb. He remembered, too, that he had put his name down for a large + subscription towards the erection of a statue to the dead leader, a work + of art which the existing generation seemed unlikely to have the pleasure + of seeing. + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that on the very day of the publication of Miss Goold’s + scheme Mr. O’Rourke announced his intention of addressing an appeal for + funds to a public meeting in the Rotunda. Miss Goold was disconcerted and + irritated. She was well aware that Mr. O’Rourke’s appeal would give the + respectable Nationalists an excellent excuse for ignoring hers, and + unfortunately the respectable people are just the ones who have most + money. She was confident that she could rely on the extreme section of the + Nationalists, and on that element in the city population which loves and + makes a row, but she could not count on the moneyed classes. They were, so + far as their words went, very enthusiastic for the Boer cause; but when it + came to writing cheques, it was likely that the counter-attractions of the + Parliamentary fund would prove too strong. + </p> + <p> + Since it seemed that Mr. O’Rourke would certainly spoil her collection, + the obvious thing to do was to try to spoil his. If he afforded people an + excuse for not paying the travelling expenses of her volunteers to Lorenzo + Marques, she would, if possible, suggest a way of escape from paying for + his men’s journeys to London. After all, no one really wanted to subscribe + to either fund, and it might be supposed that the public would very gladly + keep their purses shut altogether. + </p> + <p> + For an Irishman it is quite possible to be genuinely enthusiastic and at + the same time able to see the humorous side of his own enthusiasm. This is + a reason why an Irishman is never a bore unless, to gain his private ends, + he wants to be. Even an Irish advocate of total abstinence, or an Irish + antivaccinationist, if such a thing exists, is not a bore, because he will + always trot out his conscientious objections with a half-humorous, + half-deprecating smile. This same capacity for avoiding the slavery of + serious fanaticism enables an Irishman to cease quite joyfully from the + pursuit of his own particular fad in order to corner an obnoxious + opponent. Thus Augusta Goold and her friends were genuinely desirous of + striking a blow at England, and really believed that their volunteers + might do it; but this did not prevent them from finding infinite relish in + the prospect of watching Mr. O’Rourke squirming on the horns of a dilemma. + They took counsel together, and the result of their deliberations was + peculiar. They proposed to invite Mr. O’Rourke to join his appeal to + theirs, to pool the money which came in, and to divide it evenly between + the volunteers and the members of Parliament. It was Tim Halloran who hit + upon the brilliant idea. Augusta Goold chuckled over it as she grasped its + consequences. Mr. O’Rourke, Tim argued, would be unwilling to accept the + proposal because he wanted all the money he could get, more than was at + all likely to be collected. He would be equally unwilling to reject it, + because he could then be represented as indifferent to the heroic struggle + of the Boers. In the existing state of Irish and American opinion a + suspicion of such indifference would be quite sufficient to wreck his + chances of getting any money at all. + </p> + <p> + Of course, the obvious way of making such a proposal would have been by + letter to Mr. O’Rourke. Afterwards the correspondence—he must make a + reply of some sort—could be sent to the press, and sufficient + publicity would be given to the matter. This was what Tim Halloran wanted + to do, but such a course did not commend itself to Augusta Goold. It + lacked dramatic possibilities, and there was always the chance that the + leading papers might refuse to take any notice of the matter, or relegate + the letters to a back page and small print. Besides, a mere newspaper + controversy would not make a strong appeal to the section of the Dublin + populace on whose support she chiefly relied. A much more attractive plan + suggested itself. Augusta Goold, with a few friends to act as + aides-de-camp, would present herself to Mr. O’Rourke at his Rotunda + meeting, and put the proposal to him then and there in the presence of the + audience. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the few days before the meeting were occupied in + scattering suggestive seed over the hoardings and blank walls of the city. + One morning people were startled by the sight of an immense placard which + asked in violent red letters, ‘What is Ireland going to do?’ Public + opinion was divided about the ultimate purpose of the poster. The majority + expected the announcement of a new play or novel; a few held that a pill + or a cocoa would be recommended. Next morning the question became more + explicit, and the hypothesis of the play and the pill were excluded. + ‘What,’ the new poster ran, ‘is Ireland going to do for the Boers?’ The + public were not intensely anxious to find an answer to the conundrum + thrust thus forcibly on their attention, but they became curious to know + who the advertisers were who hungered for the information. Men blessed by + Providence with sagacious-looking faces made the most of their + opportunity, and informed their friends that the thing was a new dodge of + O’Rourke’s to get money. Their reputation suffered when the next placard + appeared. The advertisers had apparently changed their minds, for what + they now wanted to know was, ‘What are the Irish M.P.‘s going to do for + the Boers?’ Clearly Mr. O’Rourke could have nothing to gain by insisting + on an answer to such a question. The public were puzzled but pleased. The + bill-stickers of the city foresaw the possibility of realizing a + competence, for the next morning the satisfied inquirers published the + result of their investigations. ‘The Em Pees ‘(it was thus that they now + referred to the honourable members of Parliament) ‘are supporting the + infamies of England.’ It was at this point that the eye of a Castle + official was caught by one of the placards as he made his way to the + Kildare Street Club for luncheon. He discussed the matter with a + colleague, and it occurred to them that since they were paid for governing + Ireland, they ought to give the public some value for their money, and + seize the opportunity of doing something. They sent a series of telegrams + to Mr. Chesney’s London house, which were forwarded by his private + secretary to the Riviera. The replies which followed kept the Castle + officials in a state of pleasurable excitement until quite late in the + evening. At about eight o’clock large numbers of Metropolitan police + sallied out of their barracks and tore down the last batch of placards. + Next morning fresh ones were posted up, each of which bore the single + word, ‘Why?’ The bill-stickers were highly pleased, and many of them were + arrested for drunkenness. Mr. O’Rourke was much less pleased, for he began + to guess what the answer was likely to be, and how it would affect his + chances of securing a satisfactory collection. The officials were + perplexed. They suspected the ‘Why?’ of containing within its three + letters some hideous sedition, but it was not possible to deal vigorously + with what might, after all, be only the cunning novelty of some + advertising manufacturer. More telegrams harried Mr. Chesney, but before + any definite course of action had been decided on the morning of the + Rotunda meeting arrived, and with it an answer to the multifarious ‘Whys’: + Because O’Rourke wants all the money to spend in the London restaurants.’ + There was a great deal of laughter, and many people, quite uninterested in + politics, determined to go to the meeting in hopes of more amusement. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. O’Rourke took the chair the hall was crowded to its utmost + capacity. Under ordinary circumstances this would have augured well for + the success of his appeal, for it showed that the public were at all + events not apathetic. On this particular occasion, however, Mr. O’Rourke + would have been better pleased with a smaller audience. The placards had + shown him that something unpleasant was likely to occur, though they + afforded no hint of the form which the unpleasantness would take. When he + rose to his feet he was greeted with the usual volley of cheers, and + although some rude remarks about the Boers were made in the corners of the + hall, they did not amount to anything like an organized attempt at + interruption. He began his speech cautiously, feeling the pulse of his + audience, and plying them with the well-worn platitudes of the Nationalist + platform. When these evoked the usual enthusiasm he waxed bolder, and shot + out some almost original epigrams directed against the Government, working + up to a really new gibe about officials who sat like spiders spinning + murderous webs in Dublin Castle. The audience were delighted with this, + but their joy reached its height when someone shouted: ‘You might speak + better of the men who tore down the placard on Wednesday.’ Mr. O’Rourke + ignored the suggestion, and passed on to sharpen his wit upon the + landlords. He described them as ‘ill-omened tax-gatherers who suck the + life-blood of the country, and refuse to disgorge a penny of it for any + useful purpose.’ Mr. O’Rourke was not a man who shrank from a mixed + metaphor, or paused to consider such trifles as the unpleasantness which + would ensue if anyone who had been sucking blood were to repent and + disgorge it. ‘Where,’ he went on to ask, ‘do they spend their immense + revenues? Is it in Ireland?’ Here he made one of those dramatic pauses for + which his oratory was famous. The audience waited breathlessly for the + denunciation which was to follow. They were treated, unexpectedly, to a + well-conceived anticlimax. A voice spoke softly, but quite clearly, from + the back of the hall: + </p> + <p> + ‘Bedad, and I shouldn’t wonder if it was in the London restaurants.’ + </p> + <p> + A roar of laughter followed. The orator might no doubt have made an + effective reply, but every time he opened his mouth minor wits, rending + like wolves the carcase of the original joke, yelled ‘turtle-soup’ at him, + or ‘champagne and oysters.’ He got angry, and consequently flurried. He + tried to quell the tumult by thundering out the denunciation which he had + prepared. But the delight which the audience took in shrieking the items + of their imaginary bill of fare was too much for him. He forgot what he + had meant to say, floundered, attempted to pull himself together, and + brought out the stale jest about providing each landlord with a single + ticket to Holyhead. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that same,’ said his original tormentor, ‘would be cheaper than + giving you a return ticket to London.’ + </p> + <p> + The audience was immensely tickled. So far the entertainment, if not + precisely novel, was better than anything they had hoped for, and everyone + had an agreeable conviction that there was still something in the way of a + sensation in store. Perhaps it was eagerness for the expected climax which + induced them to keep tolerably quiet during the remainder of Mr. + O’Rourke’s speech. He set forth at some length the glorious achievements + of his party in the past, and explained the opportunities of future + usefulness which lay to be grasped if only the necessary funds were + provided. He sat down to make way, as he assured the audience, for certain + tried and trusty soldiers of the cause who were waiting to propose + important resolutions. So far as these warriors were concerned, he might + as well have remained standing. Their resolutions are to this day + unproposed and uncommended—a secret joy, no doubt, to those who + framed them, but not endorsed by any popular approval. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth Conneally was not admitted to the secret councils of Augusta + Goold and her friends. He knew no more than the general public what kind + of a coup was meditated, but he gathered from Miss O’Dwyer’s nervous + excitement and Tim Halloran’s air of immense and mysterious importance + that something quite out of the common was likely to occur. By arriving an + hour and a half before the opening of the meeting he secured a seat near + the platform. He enjoyed the discomfiture of O’Rourke, whom he had learnt + from the pages of the <i>Croppy</i> to despise as a mere windbag, and to + hate as the betrayer of O’Neill. A sudden thrill of excitement went + through him when O’Rourke sat down. The whole audience turned their faces + from the platform towards the door at the far end of the hall, and + Hyacinth, without knowing exactly what he expected, turned too. There was + a swaying visible among the crowd near the door, and almost immediately it + became clear that someone was trying to force a way through the + densely-packed people. Curses were to be heard, and even cries from those + who were being trodden on. At last a way was made. Augusta Goold, followed + by Grealy, Halloran, and Mary O’Dwyer, came slowly up the hall towards the + platform. Those of the audience whose limbs had not been crushed or their + feet mangled in preparation for her progress cheered her wildly. Indeed, + she made a regal appeal to them. Even amidst a crowd of men her height + made her conspicuous, and she had arrayed herself for the occasion in a + magnificent violet robe. It flowed from her shoulders in spacious folds, + and swept behind her, splendidly contemptuous of the part it played as + scavenger amid the accumulated filth of the floor. Her bare arms shone out + of the wide sleeves which hung around them. Her neck rose strong and + stately over the silver clasp of a cloak which she had thrown back from + her shoulders. She wore a hat which seemed to hold her hair captive from + falling loose around her. One great tress alone escaped from it, and by + some cunning manipulation was made to stand straight out, as if blown by + the wind from its fastenings. In comparison her suite looked commonplace + and mean. Poor Miss O’Dwyer was arrayed—‘gowned,’ she would have + said herself in reporting the scene—in vesture not wanting in + splendour, but which beside Miss Goold’s could not catch the eye. Thomas + Grealy, awkward and stooped, peered through his glasses at the crowd. Tim + Halloran walked jauntily, but his eyes glanced nervously from side to + side. He was certainly ill at ease, possibly frightened, at the position + in which he found himself. + </p> + <p> + A hurried consultation took place among the gentlemen on the platform, + which ended in Mr. O’Rourke stepping forward with a smile and an + outstretched hand to welcome Augusta Goold as she ascended the steps. The + expression of his face belied the smile which he had impressed upon his + lips. His eyes had the same look of furtive malice as a dog’s which wants + to bite but fears the stick. Augusta Goold waved aside the proffered hand, + and stepped unaided on to the platform. Mr. O’Rourke placed a chair for + her, but she ignored it and stood, with her followers behind her, facing + the audience. O’Rourke and two of his tried and trusty members of + Parliament approached her. They stood between her and the audience, and + talked to her for some time, apparently very earnestly. Augusta Goold + looked past them, over them, sometimes it seemed through them, while they + spoke, but made them no answer whatever. At last Mr. O’Rourke shrugged his + shoulders, and withdrew to his chair with a sulky scowl. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘to ask a simple question of your chairman.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke rose. + </p> + <p> + ‘This meeting,’ he said, ‘is convened for the purpose of raising funds for + the carrying on of the national business in the House of Commons. If Miss + Goold’s question relates to the business in hand, I shall be most happy to + answer it. If not, I am afraid I cannot allow it to be asked here. At + another time and in another place I shall be prepared to listen to what + Miss Goold has to say, and in the meantime if she will take her seat on + the platform she will be heartily welcome.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My question,’ said Augusta Goold, ‘is intimately connected with the + business of the meeting. It is simply this: Are you, Mr. O’Rourke, + prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the Irish + people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + It was manifestly absurd to ask such a question at all. Mr. O’Rourke had + no intention of collecting money for the Boers, who seemed to have plenty + of their own, and he could not without breach of trust have applied funds + subscribed to feed and clothe members of Parliament to arming volunteers. + Nevertheless, it was an awkward question to answer in the presence of an + audience excited by Augusta Goold’s beauty and splendid audacity. A really + strong man, like, for instance, O’Rourke’s predecessor, John O’Neill, + might have faced the situation, and won, if not the immediate cheers, at + least the respect of the Irish people. But Mr. O’Rourke was not a strong + man, and besides he was out of temper and had lost his nerve. He took + perhaps the worst course open to him: he made a speech. He appealed to his + past record as a Nationalist, and to his publicly reiterated expressions + of sympathy with the Boer cause. He asked the audience to trust him to do + what was right, but he neither said Yes nor No to the question he was + asked. + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold stood calm and impassive while he spoke. A sneer gathered on + her lips and indrawn nostrils as he made his appeal for the people’s + confidence. When he had finished she said, very slowly, and with that + extreme distinctness of articulation which women speakers seem to learn so + much more easily than men: + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the + Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke was goaded into attempting another speech, but the audience + was in no mood to listen to him. He was interrupted again and again with + shouts of ‘Yes or no!’ ‘Answer the question!’ The bantering tone with + which they had plied him earlier in the evening with suggestions for a + menu had changed now into angry insistence. He passed his hand over his + forehead with a gesture of despair, and sat down. At once the tumult + ceased, and the people waited breathless for Augusta Goold to speak again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared’—she seemed to have learnt her question off by + heart—‘to give any portion of the money entrusted to you by the + Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shea, a red-headed member of Parliament from Co. Limerick, being + himself one of those most deeply interested in the contents of the party’s + purse, sprang to his feet. It was clear that he was in a condition of + almost dangerous excitement, for he stammered, as he shouted to the + chairman: + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir, is this—this—this woman to be allowed to interrupt the + meeting? I demand her immediate removal.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold smiled at him. It was really a very gracious, almost a + tender, smile. One might imagine the divine Theodora in her earlier days + smiling with just such an expression on a plebeian lover whose passion she + regarded as creditable to him but hopeless. + </p> + <p> + ‘I assure you, Mr. Shea, that I shall not interrupt the business for more + than a minute. Mr. O’Rourke has only got to say one word—either Yes + or No. Are you prepared to give any portion of the funds entrusted to you + by the Irish people to assist the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shea was not at all mollified either by the smile or the politeness of + her tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall not permit the meeting to be interrupted any more,’ he shouted. + ‘Either you will withdraw at once, or we shall have you removed by force.’ + </p> + <p> + She smiled at him again—a pitying smile, as if she regretted the + petulance of his manner, and turned to the chairman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you prepared to give——’ + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Shea’s feelings became too strong for his self-control. He sprang + forward, apparently with the intention of laying violent hands upon + Augusta Groold. Hyacinth Conneally started up to protect her, and the same + impulse moved a large part of the audience. There was a rush for the + platform, and a fierce, threatening yell. Mr. Shea hung back, frightened. + Augusta Goold held up her hand, and immediately the rush stopped and the + people were silent. She went on with her question, taking it up at the + exact word which Mr. Shea had interrupted, in the same level and + exquisitely irritating tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘—Any of the money entrusted to you by the Irish people to assist + the Boers in their struggle for freedom?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Rourke had sat scowling silently since the failure of his last + attempt to explain himself. This final disjointed repetition of the + galling question roused him to the necessity of doing something. He was a + pitiful sight as he rose and confronted Augusta Goold. There were blotches + of purple red and spaces of pallor on his face; his hands twisted + together; a sweat had broken out from his neck, and made his collar limp. + His words were a stammering mixture of bluster and appeal. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mustn’t—mustn’t—mustn’t interrupt the meeting,’ So far he + tried to assert himself, then, with a glance at the contemptuous face of + the woman before him, he relapsed into the tone of a schoolboy who begs + off the last strokes of a caning. ‘Is this nice conduct? Is it ladylike to + come here and attack us like this? Miss Goold, I’m ashamed of you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad to hear,’ said Augusta Goold, departing for the first time from + her question, ‘that there is anything left in the world that Mr. O’Rourke + is ashamed of. I didn’t think there was.’ + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Shea and not his leader who resented this last insult. His lips + drew apart, leaving his teeth bare in a ghastly grin. He clenched his + fists, and stood for a moment trembling from head to foot. Then he leaped + forward towards Augusta Goold. The man who stood next Hyacinth lurched + suddenly forward, wrenched his right hand free of the crowd round him, and + flung it back behind his head. Hyacinth saw that he held a large stone in + it. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a cowardly blackguard, Shea,’ he yelled—‘a damned, cowardly + blackguard! Would you strike a woman?’ + </p> + <p> + Shea turned on the instant, saw the hand stretched back to fling the + stone. He seized the chair behind him—the very chair which, while an + appearance of politeness was still possible, Mr. O’Rourke had offered to + Augusta Goold—and flung it with all his force at the man with the + stone. One of the legs grazed Hyacinth’s cheek, scraping the skin off. The + corner of the seat struck the man beside him full across the forehead just + above his eyes. The blood poured out, blinding, and then, as he gasped, + choking him. He reeled and huddled together helplessly. He could not fall, + for the pressure of the crowd round him held him up. Hyacinth felt his + hands groping wildly as if for support, and reached out his own to grasp + him. But the man wanted no help for himself. As soon as he felt another + hand touch his he pressed the stone into it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t see,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Take it, you, and kill him, kill + him, kill him! smash his skull!’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth took the stone. The feel of the man’s blood warm on it and the + fierce yelling and stamping of the crowd filled him with a mad lust of + hate against Shea, who stood as if suddenly paralyzed within a few feet of + him. He wrenched his hand free, and with a mighty effort flung the stone. + He saw it strike Shea fair on the forehead. In spite of the tumult around + him, he fancied he heard the dull thud of its impact. He saw Shea fling up + his hands and pitch forward. He saw Augusta Goold gather her skirts in her + hand, and sweep them swiftly aside lest the man should fall on them. Then + the crowd pressing towards the platform swept him off his feet, and he was + tossed helplessly forward. A giddy sickness seized him. The pressure + slackened for an instant, and he fell. Someone’s boot struck him on the + head. He felt without any keen regret that he was likely to be trampled to + death. Then he lost consciousness. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Next morning the Dublin daily papers laid themselves out to make the most + of the sensational fight at the Rotunda. Even the habitually cautious <i>Irish + Times</i> felt that the occasion justified the expression of an opinion, + and that there would be no serious risk of alienating the sympathies of + subscribers and advertisers by condemning the bloodshed. It published an + exceedingly dignified and stodgy leading article, drawing the largest and + finest words from the dictionary, and weaving them with extraordinary art + into sentences which would have been creditable to anyone bent upon + imitating the style of Dr. Samuel Johnson. The British Empire and the + whole of civilized Europe were called upon to witness the unspeakably + deplorable consequences which invariably followed the habitual neglect of + the cultivation of the elementary decencies of public life. The paper + disclaimed any sympathy with either of the belligerent parties, and + pointed out with sorrowful solemnity that if the principles sedulously + inculcated upon its readers in its own columns were persistently flouted + and contemned by those who claimed the position of national + representatives, little else except a repetition at frequent intervals of + the painful and humiliating scenes of the night before could possibly be + anticipated by reasonable observers of the general trend of democratic + institutions. The <i>Daily Express</i> openly exulted over the rioters. + Its leading article—the staff may have danced in a ring round the + office table while composing it—declared that now at length the + Irish had proved to the world that they were all, without a solitary + exception, irredeemably vicious corner-boys. Miss Augusta Goold was warmly + praised for having demonstrated once for all that ‘patriotism’ ought to be + written ‘Pat riotism.’ Deep regret was expressed that those who attended + the meeting had not been armed with revolvers instead of stones, and that + the platform had not been defended with Maxim guns instead of + comparatively innocuous wooden chairs. Had modern weapons of precision + been used the <i>Daily Express</i> would have been able to congratulate + mankind on getting rid of quite a considerable number of Irishmen. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Freeman’s Journal</i> and the <i>Daily Independent</i> were + awkwardly situated. Their sympathies were entirely with Mr. O’Rourke, and + they were exceedingly angry with Miss Goold for interfering with the + collection of funds for the Parliamentary party. At the same time, they + felt a difficulty in denouncing her, not for want of suitable language—the + Irish Nationalist press has a superb command of words which a + self-respecting dictionary would hesitate to recognise—but because + they felt that push of the horns of the dilemma on which O’Rourke had been + impaled, and they were obliged to sand their denunciations between layers + of stoutest pro-Boer sentiment. + </p> + <p> + All four papers contained reports of the proceedings which were + practically identical up to a certain point. It was about the commencement + of the actual bloodshed that they differed. The <i>Irish Times</i> + reporter believed that Mr. Shea had begun the fray by striking Augusta + Goold behind the ear with his clenched fist. The <i>Daily Express</i> man + claimed to have overheard Mr. O’Rourke urging his friends to brain a + member of the audience with a chair. The <i>Freeman’s Journal</i> held + that Augusta Goold’s supporters had come into the hall supplied with huge + stones, which, at a given signal, they had flung at the inoffensive + members of Parliament who occupied the platform, adding, as a + corroborative detail, that the lady who accompanied Augusta Goold had + twice kicked the prostrate Mr. Shea in the stomach. The <i>Daily + Independent</i> advanced the ingenious theory that the contest had been + precipitated by a malevolent student of Trinity College, who had flung an + apple of discord—on this occasion a jagged paving-stone of unusual + size—into the midst of a group of ladies and gentlemen who were + peacefully discussing a slight difference of opinion among themselves. + Beyond this point none of the papers gave any account of the proceedings, + all four reporters having recognised that, not being retained as war + correspondents, they were not called upon to risk their lives on the + battlefield. The accounts all closed with the information that the wounded + had been carried to Jervis Street Hospital, and were under treatment + suitable to their injuries. Hyacinth had suffered a slight concussion of + the brain and a flesh wound. Other sufferers were in the same ward, Mr. + Shea himself occupying a bed, so that Hyacinth had the satisfaction of + seeing him stretched out, a melancholy figure, with a bandage concealing + most of his red hair. After the surgeon had finished his rounds for the + morning a police official visited the sufferers, and made a careful note + of their names and addresses. He inquired in a perfunctory manner whether + any of them wished to swear an information. No one, except Mr. Shea, was + sufficiently satisfied with his own share of the meeting to wish for more + fame than was unavoidable. As no further use was ever made of Mr. Shea’s + narrative, it may be presumed that the authorities regarded it as wanting + in accuracy. No blame, however, ought to be attached to the author for any + petty deviation from the truth of which he may have been guilty. No man’s + mind is perfectly clear on the morning after he has been struck on the + head with a stone, and perhaps afterwards kicked twice in the stomach by a + lady journalist. Besides, all members of Parliament are, in virtue of + their office, ‘honourable gentlemen.’ + </p> + <p> + An excited and sympathetic nurse provided Hyacinth with copies of the four + morning papers, which he read with interest and a good deal of amusement. + Only the account in the <i>Daily Independent</i> caused him any + uneasiness. No doubt, as he fully recognised, the suggestion about the + Trinity student was nothing but a wild guess on the part of the reporter. + It was highly unlikely that anyone would seriously consider a theory so + intrinsically improbable. Still, if the faintest suspicion of the part he + had played reached the ears of the college authorities, he felt that his + career as a divinity student was likely to be an extremely brief one. His + chief fear was that a prolonged absence from college would give rise to + inquiry, and that his bandages would excite suspicion when he reappeared. + Fortunately, the house surgeon decided that he was sufficiently recovered + to be allowed to leave the hospital early in the afternoon. The boot which + had put an end to his share in the riot had raised its bruise under his + hair, so he was able to remove the bandages from his head as soon as he + got into the street. There still remained a long strip of plaster meant to + keep a dressing of iodoform in its place over the cut on his cheek which + Mr. Shea’s chair-leg had inflicted. This he could not get off, and + thinking it wiser to make his entry into college after nightfall, he + sought a refuge in Mary O’Dwyer’s rooms. + </p> + <p> + He found the poetess laid on a sofa and clad in a blue dressing-gown. She + stretched a hand of welcome to Hyacinth, and then, before he had time to + take it, began to laugh immoderately. The laughing fit ended in sobs, and + then tears flowed from her eyes, which she mopped convulsively with an + already damp pocket-handkerchief. Before she had recovered sufficient + self-possession to speak, she signed to Hyacinth to fetch a bottle of + smelling-salts from the chimney-piece. He hastened to obey, and found + himself kneeling beside the sofa, holding the bottle to her nose. After a + while she recovered sufficiently to tell him that she had not slept at all + during the night, and felt extremely unwell and quite unstrung in + consequence. Another fit of immoderate and tearful laughter followed, and + Hyacinth, embarrassed and alarmed, fetched a tumbler of soda-water from + the syphon on the sideboard. The lady refused to swallow any, and, just as + he had made up his mind to risk an external application, recovered again. + During the lucid interval which followed she informed him that his own + conduct had been superb and heroic. What seemed to be an effort to + celebrate his achievements in extemporary verse brought on another fit. + Hyacinth determined to risk an appearance in the college square in broad + daylight rather than continue his ministrations. While he was searching + for his hat Miss O’Dwyer became suddenly quite calm, and began to explain + to him how immensely the cause of Ireland’s independence had benefited by + the demonstration in the Rotunda. Hyacinth listened anxiously, waiting for + the next explosion, and experienced very great relief when the door opened + and Augusta Goold walked in. + </p> + <p> + Unlike Mary O’Dwyer, she was entirely mistress of herself. Her cheeks were + not a shade paler than usual, nor her hand at all less cool and firm. She + stretched herself, after her usual fashion, in the largest available chair + and lit a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + ‘You look excited, my dear Mary,’ she said—‘a little overexcited, + perhaps. Have you had tea? No? Perhaps you will be so kind as to ring the + bell, Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Mary O’Dwyer repeated the information she had given Hyacinth about her + sleepless night, and complimented Augusta Goold on her nerve. + </p> + <p> + ‘As for poor little me,’ she went on, ‘I’m like a—like a—you + remember the kind of thing, don’t you?—like a—I’m not sure if + I know the name of the thing myself.’ + </p> + <p> + She relapsed into a weak giggle, and Hyacinth stooped for the bottle of + smelling-salts, which had rolled under the sofa. Augusta Goold was much + less sympathetic. She fixed her with a strong stare of amazement and + disgust. Apparently this treatment was the right one, for the giggling + stopped almost immediately. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see you have got some sticking-plaster on your face, Mr. Conneally,’ + she said, when Mary O’Dwyer had quieted down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and a good-sized bump behind my ear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose this business will be very awkward for you in college. Will + they turn you out?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sure they will if they find out that I threw that stone at Shea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You made a very good shot,’ said Augusta, smiling at the recollection. + ‘But how on earth did you come to have a stone that size in the hall with + you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth told the story of the man who had been felled by the chair and + his murderous bequest. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the proper spirit,’ said Augusta. ‘I admire that man, and he + couldn’t have passed his stone on to better hands than yours. Shea went + down as if he had been shot. I was afraid of my life he would clutch at my + skirts as he fell or squirm up against me after he was down. But he lay + quite still. By the way, Mary, I suppose your dress was ruined?’ + </p> + <p> + Mary O’Dwyer was quite subdued. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was torn,’ she said meekly enough. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you another one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I have. I’ve three others, besides some old ones.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, you’d better go and put on one of them. An old one will do. + It’s disgusting to see a woman slopping about in a dressing-gown at this + time of day. I’ll have tea ready when you come back.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer obeyed sulkily. She wished very much that Augusta Goold had + stopped at home. It would have been a great deal pleasanter to have gone + on practising hysterics with Hyacinth as a sympathetic spectator. When the + door was shut Augusta Goold turned to Hyacinth again. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the worst of women’—apparently she did not consider herself + as one of the sex—‘they are all right at the time (nothing could + have been better than Mary’s behaviour at the meeting), but they collapse + afterwards in such idiotic ways. But I want to talk to you about yourself. + I owe you a good turn for what you did last night. Only for you, I think + Shea would have dared to touch me, and then very likely I should have + killed him, and there might have been trouble afterwards.’ She spoke quite + calmly, but Hyacinth had very little doubt that she meant exactly what she + said. ‘Grealy of course, was useless. One might have expected him to give + utterance to an ancient tribal war-cry, but he didn’t even do that. Tim + Halloran got frightened when the row began. I noticed him dodging about + behind Mary and me, and I mean to let him know what I think about him. + It’s you I have to thank, and I won’t forget it. If you get into trouble + over this business in college, come to me, and I will see you straight. In + fact, if you like to give up the divinity student business at once, I dare + say I can put you in the way of earning an honester livelihood.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was gratified at the way Augusta Goold spoke to him. Since the + evening on which he had given his opinion about the morality of desertion + and murder he had been conscious of a coolness in her manner. Now he had + apparently reinstated himself in her good graces. Praise, even for an act + he was secretly ashamed of, and gratitude, though he by no means + recognised that he deserved it, were pleasant to him. He promised to + remember the offer of help, but declined for the present to commit his + future to the keeping of so bloodthirsty a patroness. + </p> + <p> + Curiously enough, Hyacinth’s reception in college was a great deal more + cordial after the Rotunda meeting than it had ever been before. For a + while the battle which had been fought at their doors superseded the + remoter South African warfare as a topic of conversation among the + students. Their sympathies were with Augusta Goold. Even members of the + divinity classes suffered themselves to be lured from their habitual + worship of respectability so far as to express admiration for the dramatic + picturesqueness of the part she played. It is true that the lady herself + was called by names universally resented by women, and that the broadest + slanders were circulated about her character. Still, a halo of glory hung + round her. It was felt that she had done a surprisingly courageous thing + when she faced Mr. O’Rourke on his own platform. Also, she had behaved + with a certain dignity, neither throwing chairs nor stones at her + opponents. Then, she was an undeniably beautiful woman, a fact which made + its inevitable appeal to the young men. The mere expression of sympathy + with this flamboyant and scandal-smeared heroine brought with it a + delightful flavour of gay and worldly vice. It was pretty well known that + Hyacinth was a friend of Miss Goold’s, and it was rumoured that he had + earned his piece of sticking-plaster in her defence. No one knew exactly + what he had done or how much he had suffered, but a great many men were + anxious to know. Very much to his own surprise, he received a number of + visitors in his rooms. Men who had been the foremost of his tormentors + came, ostensibly to inquire for his health, in reality to glean details of + the fight at the Rotunda. Certain medical students of the kind which glory + in any kind of row openly congratulated him on his luck in being present + on such an occasion. Men who claimed to be fast, and tried to impress + their acquaintances with the belief that they indulged habitually in wild + scenes of revelry, courted Hyacinth, and boasted afterwards of their + second-hand acquaintance with Miss Goold. It became the fashion to be seen + arm-in-arm with him in the quadrangle, and to inquire from him in public + for ‘Finola.’ + </p> + <p> + This new popularity by no means pleased Hyacinth. He was not at all proud + of his share in the Rotunda meeting, and lived in daily dread of being + recognised as the assailant of Mr. Shea. He knew, too, that he was making + no way with the better class of students. The men whose faces he liked + were more than ever shy of making his acquaintance. The sub-lecturers and + minor professors in the divinity school were coldly contemptuous in their + manner, and it seemed to him that even Dr. Henry was less friendly. He + became desperately anxious to get out of a position which he found more + intolerable than the original isolation. He applied himself with extreme + diligence to his studies, even affecting an interest, unnatural for the + most pious, in the expositions given by learned doctors of the Thirty-nine + Articles. At lectures on Church history he made notes about the vagaries + of heretics so assiduously that the professor began to hope that there + existed one student at least who took an interest in the Christological + controversies of the sixth century. He never ventured back again to the + Wednesday prayer-meeting, but he performed many attendances beyond the + required minimum at the college chapel. Morning after morning he dragged + himself from his bed and hurried across the dusky quadrangle to take his + part in the mutilated matins with which the college authorities see fit to + usher in the day. He even went to hear the sermons delivered on Friday + afternoons, homilies so painful that the preachers themselves recognise an + extraordinary merit in enduring them, and allow that submission of the + ears to one of them is to be reckoned as equal to two ordinary acts of + devotion. + </p> + <p> + It is to be hoped that Hyacinth derived some remote benefit from the + discipline to which he subjected himself, for the immediate results were + not satisfactory. He seemed no nearer winning the respect of the more + serious students, and Dr. Henry’s manner showed no signs of softening into + friendliness. His surfeit of theology bred in him a dislike of the + subject. The solemn platitudes which were posed as expositions of the + creeds affected his mind much as the expurgated life histories of maiden + aunts do the newly-emancipated school-girl. The relentless closing in of + argument upon a single previously settled doctrine woke in him a desire to + break through at some point and breathe again in the open. He began to + fear that he was becoming hopelessly irreligious. His morning devotions in + the foggy atmosphere of the chapel did not touch the capacity for + enthusiasm within him. The vague splendour of his father’s meditations had + left him outside, indeed, but sure that within there lay a great reality. + But now religion had come to seem an altogether narrower thing, a fenced + off, well-ordered garden in which useful vegetables might be cultivated, + but very little inspiring to the soul. + </p> + <p> + The unwelcome attention of the students whose friendship he did not + desire, and his increasing dislike for the work he was expected to do, led + him to spend more and more of his time with Augusta Goold and her friends. + He found in their society that note of enthusiasm which he missed in the + religion of the college. He responded warmly to their passionate devotion + to the dream of an independent Irish Republic. He felt less conscious of + his want of religion in their company. With the exception of Augusta Goold + herself, the members of the coterie were professedly Roman Catholics; but + this made little or no difference in their intercourse with him. What he + found in their ideals was a substitute for religion, a space where his + enthusiasm might extend itself. He became, as he realized his own position + clearly, very doubtful whether he ought to continue his college course. It + did not seem likely that he would in the end be able to take Holy Orders, + and to remain in the divinity school without that intention was clearly + foolish. On the other hand, he shrank from inflicting what he knew would + be a painful disappointment on his father. It happened that before the + term ended his connection with the divinity school was cut in a way that + saved him from the responsibility of forming a decision. + </p> + <p> + He was a regular attendant at the lectures of Dr. Spenser, who had never + from the first disguised his dislike and contempt for Hyacinth. This + gentleman was one day explaining to his class the difference between + evidence which leads to a high degree of probability and a demonstration + which produces absolute certainty. The subject was a dry one, and quite + unsuited to Dr. Spenser, whose heart was set on maintaining a reputation + for caustic wit. He cast about for an illustration which would at once + make clear the distinction and enliven his lecture. His eye lit upon + Hyacinth, upon whose cheek there still burned a long red scar. Dr. + Spenser’s face brightened. + </p> + <p> + ‘For instance, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘if I should reason from the fact that + our friend Mr. Conneally affects the society of certain charming ladies of + doubtful reputation, like Miss Goold, to the conclusion that Mr. Conneally + is himself a Nationalist, I should only have arrived at a probable + conclusion. The degree of probability might be very high; still, I should + have no right to regard my conclusion as absolutely certain.’ + </p> + <p> + The class tittered delightedly. Dr. Spenser proceeded without heeding a + deep flush on Hyacinth’s face, which might have warned a wiser man that an + explosion was coming. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I should then proceed to reason thus: All Nationalists are rebels and + potential murderers—Mr. Conneally is a Nationalist; therefore Mr. + Conneally is a rebel and potential murderer—I should, assuming the + truth of my minor premise, have arrived at a certainty.’ + </p> + <p> + The syllogism was greeted with loud applause. Hyacinth started to his + feet. For a time he could only gasp for breath to utter a reply, and Dr. + Spenser, secure in the conviction of his own intellectual and social + superiority to the son of a parson from Connemara, determined to pursue + his prey. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does Mr. Conneally,’ he asked with a simper, ‘propose to impugn the + accuracy of my induction or the logic of my deduction?’ + </p> + <p> + The simper and the number of beautiful long words which Dr. Spenser had + succeeded in collecting together into one sentence provoked a sustained + clapping of hands and stamping of feet from the class. Hyacinth rapidly + regained his self-possession, and was surprised at his own coolness when + he replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘I should say, sir, that a man who makes an induction holding up a lady to + ridicule is probably a cad, and that the cad who makes a deduction + confusing patriotism with murder is certainly a fool.’ + </p> + <p> + A report of Hyacinth’s speech was handed to Dr. Henry, with a suggestion + that expulsion from the divinity school was the only suitable punishment. + Hyacinth did not look forward with any pleasure to the interview to which + he was summoned. He was agreeably surprised when he entered the + professor’s room. Dr. Henry offered him a chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hear,’ he said—his tone was severe, but a barely perceptible + gleam of humorous appreciation flashed across his eyes as he spoke—‘that + you have been exceedingly insolent to Dr. Spenser.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, sir, whether you heard the whole story, but if you did you + will surely recognise that Dr. Spenser was gratuitously insulting to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘I recognise that, but the question is, What + am I to do with you now? What would you do if you were in my place? I + should like to know your views of the best way out of the situation.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ Dr. Henry went on, ‘we can’t have our divinity lecturers called + fools and cads before their classes. I should be afraid myself to deliver + a lecture in your presence if I thought I was liable to that kind of + interruption.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think, sir,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that the best thing will be for me to + leave the divinity school.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so, too. But leaving our divinity school need not mean that you + give up the idea of taking Holy Orders. I have a very high opinion of your + abilities, Conneally—so high that I should not like the Church to + lose your services. At the same time, you are not at present the kind of + man whom I could possibly recommend to any Irish Bishop. Your Nationalist + principles are an absolute bar to your working in the Church of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder, sir, how you can call our Church the Church of Ireland, and in + the same breath say that there is no room for a Nationalist in her. Don’t + the two things contradict each other.’ + </p> + <p> + Dr. Henry’s eyes twinkled again. There spread over his mouth a smile of + tolerant amusement. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, I’m not going to let you trap me into a discussion of that + question. Theoretically, I have no doubt you would make out an excellent + case. National Church, National spirit, National politics—Irish + Church, Irish nation, Irish ideas. They all go excellently together, don’t + they? And yet the facts are as I state them. A Nationalist clergyman in + the Church of Ireland would be just as impossible as an English + Nonconformist in the Court of Louis Quatorze. After all, in this life one + has got to steer one’s course among facts, and they’re sharp things which + knock holes in the man who disregards them. Now, what I propose to you is + this: Put off your ordination for three years or so. Take up + schoolmastaring. I will undertake to get you a post in an English school. + Your politics won’t matter over there, because no one will in the least + understand what you mean. Work hard, think hard, read hard. Mix with the + bigger world across the Channel. See England and realize what England is + and what her Empire means. Don’t be angry with me for saying that, long + before the three years are over, you’ll have come to see that what you + call patriotism is nothing else than parochialism of a particularly narrow + and uninstructed kind. Then come back here to me, and I’ll arrange for + your ordination. You’ll do the best of good work when you’ve grown up a + bit, and I’ll see you a Bishop before I die.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall always be grateful to you,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I shall never forget + your kindness, and the way you’ve treated me; but I can’t do what you + ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’m not going to take no for an answer,’ said Dr. Henry. ‘Go home to + the West and think it over. Talk to your father about your future. Write + to me if you like about your plans, and remember my offer is open six + months or a year hence. You’ll be the same man then that you are now—I + mean, in character. I’m not afraid of your turning out badly. You may + think wrong-headedly, but I’m sure you’ll not act disgracefully.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + The December afternoon was growing dark when the weary car-horse + surmounted the last hill on the road from Clifden and broke into a + shambling trot down the long straight stretch into Carrowkeel. Soon, as + the distance dwindled, the lights which twinkled here and there in the + village became distinguishable. This—Hyacinth recognised it—was + the great hanging lamp in the window of Rafferty’s shop. That, a softer + glow, came from the forge of Killeen, the smith. That, and that, fainter + and more uncertain lights, were from fires seen through the open upper + section of cottage doors. He could almost tell whose the cabins were where + they shone. The scene inside rose to the imagination. A man with ragged + clothes and a half-empty pipe is squeezed into the stone nook beside the + blazing turf. The kettle, hanging from its hook, swings steaming beside + him. The woman of the house, barefooted, sluttish, in torn crimson + petticoat and gray bodice pinned across her breast, moves the red cinders + from the lid of the pot-oven and peers at the browning cake within. Babies + toddle or crawl over the greasy floor. The car rattled into the village + street. Men whom he knew stopped it to speak to him. Children playing the + last of their games in the fading light paused to stare at him. Father + Moran, returning to his presbytery, waved his hand and shouted a greeting. + He passed the last house of the village, and could see the fishing-boats, + dim and naked-looking, riding at their anchors in the bay. Out beyond + them, grim and terrible in the twilight, lay the hulk where the ice for + fish-packing was stored. The thick stump of her one remaining mast made a + blacker bar against the black sky. The pier was deserted, but he could see + the bulky stacks of fish-boxes piled on it, and hear the water lapping + against it. Along its utmost edge lay a belt of gray white, where the + waves broke as they surged round it. He passed the pier, and there lay + before him the long hill that led home. The church and the ruined school + stood out clearly on the skyline. Below them, less clearly seen, was the + rectory, and Hyacinth noted that the lamp in the kitchen was lit. Then the + door was opened, and he saw, plain against the light, a man’s figure, his + father’s. No doubt the old man was watching and listening. Perhaps the + sound of the wheels reached him through the evening air, for in a few + minutes he came out and walked down the drive. Hyacinth saw him fumble + with the fastening of the rickety gate, and at last open it slowly and + with difficulty. The car reached a gap in the loose stone wall, a familiar + gap, for across it lay a short cut up a steeper part of the hill, which + the road went round. Hyacinth jumped down and ran up the path. In another + minute the greeting of father and son was accomplished, and the two were + walking hand-in-hand towards the house. Hyacinth noticed that his father + trembled, and that his feet stumbled uncertainly among the loose stones + and stiff weeds. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the lighted room he saw that his father seemed older—many + years older—than when he had said good-bye to him two months before. + His skin was very transparent, his lips were tremulous, his eyes, after + the first long look at his son, shifted feebly to the fire, the table, and + the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear son,’ he said, ‘I thank God that I have got you safe home again. + Indeed, it is good to see you again, Hyacinth, for it has been very lonely + while you were away. I have not been able to do very much lately or to go + out to the seashore, as I used to. Perhaps it is only that I have not + cared to. But I have tried hard to get everything ready for your coming.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked round the room with evident pride as he spoke. Hyacinth followed + his gaze, and it was with a sense of deep shame that he found himself + noticing the squalor of his home. The table was stained, and the books + which littered half of it were thick with dust and grease-spotted. The + earthen floor was damp and pitted here and there, so that the chairs stood + perilously among its inequalities. The fine white powder of turf ashes lay + thick upon the dresser. The whitewash above the fireplace was blackened by + the track of the smoke that had blown out of the chimney and climbed up to + the still blacker rafters of the roof. Hyacinth remembered how he, and not + his father, had been accustomed to clean the room and wash the cups and + plates. He wondered how such matters had been managed in his absence, and + a great sense of compassion filled his eyes with tears as he thought of + the painful struggle which the details of life must have brought upon his + father. He noted the evident preparations for his coming. There were two + eggs lying in a saucer ready to be boiled, a fresh loaf—and this was + not the day they got their bread—and a small tin of cocoa beside his + cup. The hearth was piled with glowing turf, and the iron tripod with a + saucepan on it stood surrounded with red coals. Some sense of what + Hyacinth was feeling passed into his father’s mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it all right, my son? I tried to make it very nice for you. I + wanted to get Maggie Cassidy up from the village for the day, but her baby + had the chin-cough, and she couldn’t come.’ + </p> + <p> + He took Hyacinth’s hand and held it while he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it looks poor to you,’ he went on, ‘after your college rooms and + the houses your friends live in; but it’s your own home, son, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made a gulp at the emotion which had brought him near to tears. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s splendid, father—simply splendid. And now I’m going to boil + those two eggs and make the cocoa, and we’ll have a feast. Hallo! you’ve + got some jam—jam and butter and eggs, and this is the month of + December, when there’s hardly a hen laying or a cow milking in the whole + parish!’ + </p> + <p> + He held up the jam-pot as he spoke. It was wrapped in dingy red paper, and + had a mouldy damp stain on one side. Hyacinth recognised the mark, and + remembered that he had seen the identical pot on the upper shelf of + Rafferty’s shop for years. Its label bore an inscription only vaguely + prophetic of the contents—‘Irish Household Jam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right, father, you are supporting home manufacture. I declare I + wouldn’t have tasted it if it had come from England. You see, I’m a + greater patriot than ever.’ + </p> + <p> + Old Mr. Conneally smiled in a feeble, wavering way. He seemed scarcely to + understand what was being said to him, but he found a quiet pleasure in + the sound of his son’s voice. He settled himself in a chair by the + fireside and watched contentedly while Hyacinth put the eggs into the + saucepan, hung the kettle on its hook, and cut slices of bread. Then the + meal was eaten, Hyacinth after his long drive finding a relish even in the + household jam. He plied his father with questions, and heard what the old + man knew of the gossip of the village—how Thady Durkan had broken + his arm, and talked of giving up the fishing; how the police from + Letter-frack had found, or said they found, a whisky-still behind the old + castle; how a Gaelic League organizer had come round persuading the people + to sing and dance at the Galway Féis. + </p> + <p> + After supper Hyacinth nerved himself to tell the story of his term in + college, and his determination to leave the divinity school. More than + once he made an effort to begin, but the old man, who brightened a little + during their meal, relapsed again into dreaminess, and did not seem to be + listening to him. They pulled their chairs near to the fire, and Mr. + Conneally sat holding his son’s hand fast. Sometimes he stroked or patted + it gently, but otherwise he seemed scarcely to recognise that he was not + alone. His eyes were fixed on the fire, but they stared strangely, as if + they saw something afar off, something not in the room at all. There was + no response in them when Hyacinth spoke, and no intelligence. From time to + time his lips moved slightly as if they were forming words, but he said + nothing. After awhile Hyacinth gave up the attempt to tell his story, and + sat silent for so long that in the end he was startled when his father + spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hyacinth, my son, I have somewhat to say unto you.’ Before Hyacinth could + reply to him he continued: ‘And the young man answered and said unto him, + “Say on.” And the old man lifted up his voice and said unto his son, “He + that hath ears to hear, let him hear.”’ + </p> + <p> + He spoke as if he were reading out of a book some narrative from the + Bible. Hyacinth realized suddenly that the communication which was to be + made to him had been rehearsed by his father alone, again and again, that + statement, question and reply, would follow each other in due sequence + from the same lips. He felt that his father was still rehearsing, and had + forgotten the real presence of his son. He grasped the hand that held him + and shook it, saying sharply: + </p> + <p> + ‘Father, father, I am here. Don’t you know me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, my son. Surely I know you. There is something I want to tell + you. I have wanted to tell it to you for many days. I am glad that you are + here now to listen to it.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused, and Hyacinth feared that he would relapse again into dreamy + insensibility; but he did not. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to pray before I speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + He knelt down as Hyacinth had seen him kneel a thousand times before, + facing the eastward-looking window, now a black, uncurtained square in the + whitewashed wall. What he said was almost unintelligible. There was no + petition nor even any sequence of ideas which could be traced. He poured + forth a series of ejaculations expressive of intense and rapturous + delight, very strange to listen to in such a place and from an old man’s + lips. Then the language he spoke changed from English into Gaelic, and + there came a kind of hymn of adoration. His sentences followed each other + in metrical balance like the Latin of the old liturgies, and suited + themselves naturally to a subdued melody, half chant, half cry, like the + mourning of the keeners round a grave. At last, rising from his knees, he + spoke, and his voice became wholly unemotional, devoid of fervour or + excitement. He told his story as a man might relate some quite commonplace + incident of daily life. + </p> + <p> + ‘One evening I was sitting here by the fire, just as I always sit. I + remember that the lamp was not lit, and that the fire was low, so that + there was not much light in the room. It came into my mind that it was + just out of such gloom that the Lord called “Samuel, Samuel,” and I wished + that I was like Samuel, so innocent that I could hear the voice of the + Lord. I do not remember what I thought of after that. Perhaps for a time I + did not think at all. Then I felt that there were arms about my neck; but + not like your arms, Hyacinth, when you were a child and clung to me. These + were arms which held me lovingly, strongly, protectingly, like—do + you remember, Hyacinth?—“His right hand is under my head; His left + hand doth embrace me.” I sat quite still, and did not move or speak or + even breathe, lest He should go away from me. Then, after a long time—I + knew afterwards that the time was long, though then it seemed only a + minute for the joy that I had in it—He told me—I do not mean + that I heard a voice or any words; I did not hear, I <i>felt</i> Him tell + me—the things that are to be. The last great fight, the Armageddon, + draweth very near. All that is good is on one side in the fight, and the + Captain over all. What is bad is on the other side—all kinds of + tyranny and greed and lust. I did not hear these words, but I felt the + things, only without any fear, for round me were the everlasting arms. And + the battlefield is Ireland, our dear Ireland which we love. All these + centuries since the great saints died He has kept Ireland to be His + battlefield. I understood then how our people have been saved from riches + and from power and from the opportunities of lust, that our soil out of + all the world might be fit for the feet of the great Captain, for the + marching of His horsemen and His chariots. Not even when I knew all this + did I desire to share in the conflict. I am old and feeble, but that is + not the reason why there was no desire on me, for strength is in His power + to give to whom He wills. I did not desire it, because I was quite happy, + being safe with Him.’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time after he ceased speaking there was silence, for Hyacinth + had no comment to offer. At last the old man spoke again. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is all. I have no other word of revelation. But I have wondered + since how men are to be disentangled from their parties and their churches + and their nations, and gathered simply into good and bad. Will all men who + are good just know the Captain when they see Him and range themselves with + Him? But why should we think about such things as these? Doubtless He can + order them. But you, Hyacinth—will you be sure to know the good side + from the bad, the Captain from the enemy?’ + </p> + <p> + For a long time after he had gone to bed Hyacinth lay awake haunted by his + father’s prophecy of an Armageddon. There was that in his nature which + responded eagerly to such a call to battle. In the presence of enthusiasm + like his father’s or like Augusta Goold’s, Hyacinth caught fire. His mind + flamed with the idea of an Independent Ireland resplendent with her + ancient glories. He embraced no less eagerly the thought of his father’s + battle and his own part in it. Groping for points of contact between the + two enthusiasms, he caught at the conception of the Roman Church as the + Antichrist and her power in Ireland as the point round which the fight + must rage. Then with a sudden flash he saw, not Rome, but the British + Empire, as the embodiment of the power of darkness. He had learned to + think of it as a force, greedy, materialistic, tyrannous, grossly + hypocritical. What more was required to satisfy the conception of evil + that he sought for? He remembered all that he had ever heard from Augusta + Goold and her friends about the shameless trickery of English statesmen, + about the insatiable greed of the merchants, about the degraded sensuality + of the workers. He recalled the blatant boastfulness with which English + demagogues claimed to be the sole possessors of enlightened consciences, + and the tales of native races exploited, gin-poisoned, and annihilated by + pioneers of civilization advancing with Bibles in their hands. + </p> + <p> + But with all his capacity for enthusiasm there was a strain of weakness in + Hyacinth. More than once after the glories of an Independent Ireland had + been preached to him he had found himself growing suddenly cold and + dejected, smitten by an east wind of common-sense. At the time when he + first recognised the loftiness of his father’s religion he had revolted + against being called upon to adopt so fantastic a creed. So now, when his + mind grew weary with the endeavour to set an Armageddon in array, he began + to wish for a life of peaceful monotony, a place to be quiet in, where no + high calls or imperious demands would come to threaten him. He ceased to + toss to and fro, and gradually sank into a half-conscious sleep. It seemed + to him at the time that he was still awake, held back from slumber by the + great stillness of the country, that silence which disturbs ears long + accustomed to the continuous roar of towns. Suddenly he started into + perfect wakefulness, and felt that he was in possession of all his + faculties. The room where he lay was quite dark, but he strained his eyes + to see something in it. He listened intently, although no sound whatever + met his ears. A great overmastering fear laid hold on him. He tried to + reason with himself, insisting that there was nothing, and could be + nothing, to be afraid of. Still the fear remained. His lips grew stiff and + painfully hot, and when he tried to moisten them his tongue was dry and + moved across them raspingly. He struggled with the terror that paralyzed + him, and by a great effort raised his hand to his forehead. It was damp + and cold, and the hair above it was damp. He had no way of knowing how + much of the night had passed, or even how long he lay rigid, unable to + breathe without a kind of pain; but suddenly as it had come the terror + left him, left him without any effort on his part or any reason that he + recognised. Then the window of his room shook, and he heard outside the + low moan of the rising wind. Some heavy drops of rain struck audibly on + the roof, and the first gust of the storm carried to his ears the sound of + waves beating on the rocks. His senses strained no more. His eyes closed, + and he sank quietly into a long dreamless sleep. + </p> + <p> + It was late when he woke, so late that the winter sky was fully lit. The + wind, whose first gusts had lulled him to sleep, had risen to a gale, and + the rain, mixed with salt spray, beat fiercely against his window and on + the roof. He listened, expecting to hear his father moving in the room + below, but within the house there was no sound. He rose, vaguely anxious, + and without waiting to dress went into the kitchen. Everything lay + untouched, just as he had left it the night before. The lamp and the + remnants of the meal were on the table. The two chairs stood side by side + before the hearth, where the fire which he had covered up smouldered + feebly. He turned and went to his father’s room. He could not have + explained how it was, but when he opened the door he was not surprised to + see the old man lying quite still, dead, upon the bed. His face was turned + upwards, and on it was that strange look of emotionless peace which rests + very often on the faces of the dead. It seemed to Hyacinth quite natural + that the soul as it departed into unknown beatitude should have printed + this for the last expression on the earthly habitation which it left + behind. He neither wondered nor, at first, sorrowed very much to see his + father dead. His sight was undimmed and his hands steady when he closed + the eyes and composed the limbs of the body on the bed. Afterwards it + seemed strange to him that he should have dressed quietly, arranged the + furniture in the kitchen, and blown the fire into a blaze before he went + down into the village to tell his news and seek for help. + </p> + <p> + They buried Æneas Conneally beside his wife in the wind-swept churchyard. + The fishermen carried his coffin into the church and out again to the + grave. Father Moran himself stood by bareheaded while the clergyman from + Clifden read the prayers and sprinkled the coffin-lid with the clay which + symbolized the return of earth to earth and dust to dust. In the presence + of death, and, with the recollection of the simple goodness of the man who + was gone, priest and people alike forgot for an hour the endless strife + between his creed and theirs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + In Connaught the upper middle classes, clergy, doctors, lawyers, police + officers, bank officials, and so forth, are all strangers in the land. + Each of them looks forward to a promotion which will enable him to move to + some more congenial part of Ireland. A Dublin suburb is the ideal + residence; failing that, the next best thing is a country town within easy + reach of the metropolis. Most of them sooner or later achieve a promotion, + but some of them are so unfortunate as to die in their exile. In either + case their furniture and effects are auctioned. No one ever removes his + goods from Connaught, because the cost of getting things to any other + part of Ireland is exorbitant, and also because tables and chairs fetch + very high prices at auctions. Thus it happens that a certain historic + interest attaches to the furniture of most middle-class houses west of the + Shannon. The dispensary doctor dines off a table which once graced the + parlour of a parish priest. The inspector of police boasts of the price he + paid for his easy-chair, recently upholstered, at the auction of a + departing bank manager, the same mahogany frame having once supported the + portly person of an old-time Protestant Archdeacon. It is to be supposed + that the furniture originally imported—no one knows how—into + Connaught must have been of superlative quality. Articles whose pedigree, + so to speak, can be traced for nearly a hundred years are still in daily + use, unimpaired by changes of scene and ownership. + </p> + <p> + An auction of any importance is a public holiday. Clergy, doctors, + lawyers, and police officers gather to the scene, not unlike those beasts + of prey of whom we read that they readily devour the remains of a fallen + member of their own pack. The natives also collect together—publicans + and shopkeepers in search of bargains in china, glass, and house-linen; + farmers bent on purchasing such outdoor property as wheelbarrows, scythes, + or harness. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth, to use the local expression, ‘called an auction’ shortly + after his father’s death, he was favoured with quite the usual crowd of + would-be buyers. Almost everyone with either money or credit within a + radius of twenty miles came into Carrowkeel for the occasion. The + presiding auctioneer had done his duty beforehand by advertising old Mr. + Conneally’s mouldy furniture as ‘magnificently upholstered’ suites, and + his battered editions of the classics as ‘a valuable library of handsomely + bound books.’ It is not likely that anyone was really deceived by these + announcements, or expected to find in the little rectory anything + sumptuous or splendid. The people assembled mainly because they were + exceedingly curious to see the inside of a house whose doors had never + been open to them during the lifetime of the owner. It was always + possible, besides, that though the ‘magnificently upholstered +suites’existed only in the auctioneer’s imagination, treasures of silver spoons + or candlesticks plated upon copper might be discovered among the effects + of a man who lived as queer a life as Mr. Conneally. When men and women + put themselves to a great deal of inconvenience to attend an auction, they + do not like to return empty-handed. A day is more obviously wasted if one + goes home with nothing to show than if one brings a table or a bedstead + purchased at twice its proper value. Thus the bidding at Hyacinth’s + auction was brisk, and the prices such as gave sincere satisfaction to the + auctioneer. Everything was sold except ‘the valuable library.’ It was in + vain that the auctioneer made personal appeals to Father Moran and the + Rector of Clifden, as presumably the two most learned gentlemen present. + Neither of them wanted the venerable classics. In fact, neither of them + could have read a line of the crooked Greek type or construed a page of + the Latin authors. Even the Irish books, in spite of the Gaelic revival, + found no purchasers. When all was over, Hyacinth wheeled them away in + barrowfuls, wondering greatly what he was to do with them. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the disposal of his library was not the chief of his perplexities. + He wondered also what he was to do with himself. When the auctioneer sent + in his cheque, and the London Committee of the Mission had paid over + certain arrears of salary, Hyacinth found himself the possessor of nearly + two hundred pounds. It seemed to him quite a large fortune, amply + sufficient to start life with, if only some suitable way of employing + brains, energy, and money would suggest itself. In order to consider the + important topic at his leisure, he hired the only lodging in Carrowkeel—the + apartment (it was both bed and sitting room) over Mr. Rafferty’s + public-house. The furniture had suffered during the tenancy of a series of + Congested Districts Board officials. An engineer, who went to sleep in the + evenings over the fire, had burnt a round hole in the hearthrug. An + instructor in fish-curing, a hilarious young man, had cracked the mirror + over the mantelpiece, and broken many ornaments, including the fellow of + the large china dog which now mourned its mate on the sideboard. Other + gentlemen had been responsible for dislocating the legs of two chairs and + a disorganization of the handle, which made it impossible to shut the door + from the inside. The chief glory of the apartment, however, still remained—a + handsomely-framed document, signed by Earl Spencer, then Lord Lieutenant, + ordering the arrest of the present Mr. Rafferty’s father as a person + dangerous to the Commonwealth. + </p> + <p> + The first thing which brought Hyacinth’s meditations to a definite point + was a letter he received from Dr. Henry. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know,’ the professor wrote, ‘and of course I do not wish to + inquire, how you are situated financially; but if, as I suppose is likely, + you are obliged in the near future to earn your living, I may perhaps be + of some help to you. You have taken your B.A. degree, and are so far + qualified either to accept a post as a schoolmaster in an English + preparatory school or to seek ordination from some Bishop. As you are + probably aware, none of our Irish Bishops will accept a man who has not + completed his divinity course. Several English Bishops, however, + especially in the northern province, are willing to ordain men who have + nothing more than a University degree, always supposing that they pass the + required examination. I shall be quite willing to give you a letter of + recommendation to one of these Bishops, and I have no doubt that a curacy + could be found for you in one of the northern manufacturing towns, where + you would have an ample sphere for useful work.’ + </p> + <p> + The letter went on to urge the advisability of Hyacinth’s suppressing, + disguising, or modifying his political opinions, which, stated nakedly, + were likely to beget a certain prejudice in the well-balanced episcopal + mind, and in any case would be quite out of place among the operatives of + Yorkshire or Lancashire. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth recognised and appreciated Dr. Henry’s kindness. He even tried to + bring himself to consider the offer seriously and carefully, but it was no + use. He could not conceive himself as likely to be either useful or happy + amid the hustling commercialism of the Manchester streets or the staid + proprieties of an Anglican vicarage. + </p> + <p> + After he had spent about a week in his new lodging, Father Moran called on + him. The priest sat beside the fire for more than an hour chatting in a + desultory manner. He drank tea and smoked, and it was not until he rose to + go that the real object of his visit appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, Mr. Conneally, and maybe I’ve + no right to ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t have the least objection to telling you,’ said Hyacinth, ‘if I + knew myself; but I haven’t my mind made up.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest put down his hat again, and settled himself with his back to + the fire and his hands in his pockets. Hyacinth sat down, and during the + pause which followed contemplated the wonderful number and variety of the + stains on the black waistcoat in front of him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you’ve given up the idea of finishing your divinity course?’ said + the priest. ‘I’m not blaming you in the least. There’s men that studying + suits, and there’s men that it doesn’t. I never was much of a one for + books myself.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed heavily, perhaps at the recollection of his own struggles with + the mysteries of theology in his Maynooth student days. Then he walked + over and closed the door, returned, drew a chair close to Hyacinth, and + spoke in the tone of a man who imparts an important secret. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you hear that Thady Durkan’s giving up the fishing? Since he broke + his arm he declares he’ll never step aboard the boat again. You know the + St. Bridget. She’s not one of the biggest boats, but she’s a very lucky + one. She made over five hundred pounds last year, besides the share the + Board took. She was built at Baltimore, and the Board spent over two + hundred pounds on her, nets and gear and all. There’s only one year more + of instalments to pay off the price of her, and Thady has the rest of the + men bought out. There’s nobody owns a stick or a net or a sail of her + except himself, barring, of course, what’s due to the Board.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was sufficiently acquainted with the system on which the + Congested Districts Board provides the Connaught fishermen with boats and + nets to understand Father Moran’s rather involved statement of Durkan’s + financial position. He did not yet grasp why all this information should + have been conveyed to him in such a solemn and mysterious tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘You might have the <i>St. Bridget</i>,’ said the priest, ‘for one hundred + and fifty pounds down.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused to let the full glory of the situation lay hold upon Hyacinth. + Perhaps he expected an outburst of delight and surprise, but none came. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind you,’ he said, ‘there’s others looking for her. The men that worked + with Thady are thinking of making him an offer, and I dare say the Board + would be glad enough to have the boat owned among them; but I can put in a + word myself both with Thady and the inspector. Faith, the times is changed + since I was a young man. I can remember when a priest was no more thought + of than a barefooted gossure out of a bog, and now there isn’t a spalpeen + of a Government inspector but lifts his hat to me in the street. Oh, a + note from me will go a good way with the Board, and you’ll not miss the + chance for want of my good word—I promise you that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind you, there’s a good thing to be made out of her. But sure you know + that as well as I do myself, and maybe better. What do you say now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll think it over,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and whatever comes of it I’ll be + greatly obliged to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, don’t be delaying too long. And look you here’—his voice sank + almost to a whisper—‘don’t be talking about what I’ve said to you. + People are queer, and if Father Joyce down in Clifden came to hear that I + was working for a Protestant he’d be sure to go talking to the Archbishop, + and I’d never get to the end of the fuss that would be made.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, it’s very good of you, especially considering who I am—I + mean, my father being a convert, and——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say no more,’ said the priest—‘say no more. Your father was a good + man, Catholic or Protestant. I’m not one of these bitter kind of priests, + Mr. Conneally. I can be a good Catholic without hating my neighbours. I + don’t hold with all this bullyragging in newspapers about “sourfaces” and + “saved.” Maybe that’s the reason that I’m stuck down here at the other end + of nowhere all my life, and never got promotion or praise. But what do I + care as long as they let me alone to do my work for the people? I’m not + afraid to say it to you, Mr. Conneally, for you won’t want to get me into + trouble, but it’s my belief that there’s many of our priests would rather + have grand churches than contented people. They’re fonder of Rome than + they are of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really, Father Moran,’ said Hyacinth, smiling, ‘if you go on like this, I + shall expect to hear of your turning Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God forbid, Mr. Conneally! I wish you well. I wish you to be here among + us, and to be prosperous; but the dearest wish of my heart for you is that + I might see you back in the Catholic Church, believing the creed of your + forefathers.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest’s suggestion attracted Hyacinth a great deal more than Dr. + Henry’s. He liked the sea and the fishing, and he loved the simple people + among whom he had been brought up. His experiences in Dublin had not + encouraged him to be ambitious. Life in the great world—it was thus + that he thought of the bickerings of the Dublin Nationalists and the + schoolboy enthusiasms of college students—was not a very simple + thing. There was a complexity and a confusion in affairs which made it + difficult to hold to any cause devotedly. It seemed to him, looking back, + that Miss Goold’s ideals—and she had ideals, as he knew—were + somehow vulgarized in their contact with the actual. He had seen something + of the joy she found in her conflict with O’Rourke, and it did not seem to + him to be pure or ennobling. At one time he was on the verge of deciding + to do what the priest wished. Walking day by day along the shore or + through the fields, he came to think that life might very well be spent + without ambitious or extended hopes in quiet toil and unexciting + pleasures. What held him back was the recollection, which never ceased to + haunt him, of his father’s prophecy. The thought of the great fight, + declared to be imminent, stirred in him an emotion so strong that the + peace and monotony he half desired became impossible. He never made it + clear to himself that he either believed or disbelieved the prediction. He + certainly did not expect to see an actual gathering of armed men, or that + Ireland was to be the scene of a battle like those in South Africa. But + there was in him a conviction that Ireland was awakening out of a long + sleep, was stretching her limbs in preparation for activity. He felt the + quiver of a national strenuousness which was already shaking loose the + knots of the old binding-ropes of prejudice and cowardice. It seemed to + him that bone was coming to dry bone, and that sooner or later—very + soon, it was likely—one would breathe on these, and they would live. + That contest should come out of such a renaissance was inevitable. But + what contest? Against whom was the new Ireland to fight, and who was truly + on her side? Here was the puzzle, insoluble but insistent. It would not + let him rest, recurring to his mind with each fresh recollection of his + father’s prophecy. + </p> + <p> + It was while he was wearying himself with this perplexity that he got a + letter from Augusta Goold. It was characteristic of her that she had + written no word of sympathy when she heard of his father’s death, and now, + when a letter did come, it contained no allusion to Hyacinth’s affairs. + She told him with evident delight that she had enlisted no less than ten + recruits for the Boer army. She had collected sufficient money to equip + them and pay their travelling expenses. It was arranged that they were to + proceed to Paris, and there join a body of volunteers organized by a + French officer, a certain Pierre de Villeneuve, about whom Miss Goold was + enthusiastic. She was in communication with an Irishman who seemed likely + to be a suitable captain for her little band, and she wanted Hyacinth back + in Dublin to help her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know,’ she wrote, ‘the people I have round me here. Poor old Grealy + is quite impracticable, though he means well. He talks about nothing but + the Fianna and Finn McCool, and can’t see that my fellows must have riding + lessons, and must be got somehow to understand the mechanism of a rifle. + Tim Halloran has been in a sulk ever since I told him what I thought of + his conduct at the Rotunda. He never comes near me, and Mary O’Dwyer told + me the other day that he called my volunteers a “pack of blackguards.” I + dare say it’s perfectly true, but they’re a finer kind of blackguard than + the sodden loafers the English recruit for their miserable army.’ + </p> + <p> + She went on to describe the series of Boer victories which had come one + after another just at Christmas-time. She was confident that the cause of + freedom and nationality would ultimately triumph, and she foresaw the + intervention of some Continental Power. A great blow would be struck at + the already tottering British Empire, and then—the freedom of + Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt strangely excited as he read her news. The letter seemed the + first clear note of the trumpet summoning him to his father’s Armageddon. + Politics and squabbling at home might be inglorious and degrading, but the + actual war which was being waged in South Africa, the struggle of a people + for existence and liberty, could be nothing but noble. He saw quite + clearly what his own next step was to be, and there was no temptation to + hesitate about it. He would place his money at Miss Goold’s disposal, and + go himself with her ten volunteers to join the brigade of the heroic de + Villeneuve. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + The prospect of joining Augusta Goold’s band of volunteers and going to + South Africa to fight afforded Hyacinth great satisfaction. For two days + he lived in an atmosphere of day-dreams and delightful anticipations. He + had no knowledge whatever of the actual conditions of modern warfare. He + understood vaguely that he would be called upon to endure great hardships. + He liked to think of these, picturing himself bravely cheerful through + long periods of hunger, heat, or cold. He had visions of night watches, of + sudden alarms, of heart-stirring skirmishes, of scouting work, and + stealthy approaches to the enemy’s lines. He thought out the details of + critical interviews with commanding officers in which he with some chosen + comrade volunteered for incredibly dangerous enterprises. He conceived of + himself as wounded, though not fatally, and carried to the rear out of + some bullet-swept firing-line. He was just twenty-three years of age. + Adventure had its fascination, and the world was still a place full of + splendid possibilities. + </p> + <p> + At the end of his two days of dreaming he returned, flushed with his great + purposes, to the realities of life. He went to Father Moran to tell him + that he would not buy Durkan’s boat. He laughed to himself at the thought + of doing such a thing. Was he to spend his life fishing mackerel round the + rocky islands of Connemara, when he might be fighting like one of the + ancient heroes, giving his strength, perhaps his life, for a great cause? + The priest met him at the presbytery door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in, Mr. Conneally—come in and sit down. I was expecting you + these two days. What were you doing at all, walking away there along the + rocks by yourself? The people were beginning to say that you were getting + to be like your poor father, and that nobody’d ever get any good out of + you. But I knew you’d come back to me here. I hope now it’s to tell me + that you’ll buy the boat you’ve come.’ + </p> + <p> + They entered the house, and the priest opened the door of the little + sitting-room. Hyacinth knew it well. There was the dark mahogany table + with the marks burnt into it where hot dishes were set down, the shabby + arm-chair, the worn cocoanut-matting on the floor, the dozen or so books + in the hanging shelf, the tawdry sacred pictures round the wall. He had + known it all, and it all seemed unchanged since he was a child. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit you down—sit you down,’ said the priest. ‘And now about the + boat.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not going in for her,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I’m as thankful to you for + suggesting it as if I did buy her. I hope you’ll understand that, but I’m + not going to buy her.’ + </p> + <p> + He found it difficult to speak of his new plan to Father Moran. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you tell me that, now? I’m sorry for it. And why wouldn’t you buy her? + What’s there to hinder you?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now,’ said the priest, ‘I can guess. I thought the auction turned + out well for you, but I never heard for certain, and maybe you haven’t got + the money for the boat. Whisht now, my son, and let me speak. I’m thinking + the thing might be managed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Father Moran———’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah now, will you be quiet when I bid you? I haven’t the money myself. + Never a penny have I been able to save all my life, with the calls there + are on me in a parish like this. Sure, you know yourself how it is. + There’s one will have a cow that has died on him, and another will be + wanting a lock of potatoes for seed in the springtime; and if it isn’t + that, it’ll be something else. And who would the creatures go to in their + trouble but the old priest that christened and married the most of them? + But, indeed, thanks be to God, things is improving. The fishing brings in + a lot of money to the men, and there’s a better breed of cattle in the + country now, and the pigs fetch a good price since we had the railway to + Clifden, and maybe the last few years I might have saved a little, but I + didn’t. Indeed, I don’t know where it is the money goes at all, but + someway it’s never at rest in my breeches pockets till it’s up and off + somewhere. God forgive us! it’s more careful we ought to be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Father Moran, I don’t——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Arrah then, will you cease your talking for one minute, and let me get a + word in edgeways for your own good? What was I saying? Oh, I was just + after telling you I hadn’t got the money to help you. But maybe I might + manage to get it. The man in the bank in Clifden knows me. I borrowed a + few pounds off him two years ago when the Cassidys’ house and three more + beside it got blown away in the big wind. Father Joyce put his name on the + back of the bill along with my own, and trouble enough I had to get him to + do it, for he said I ought to put an appeal in the newspapers, and I’d get + the money given to me. But I never was one to go begging round the + country. I said I’d rather borrow the money and pay it back like a decent + man. And so I did, every penny of it. And I think the bank will trust me + now, with just your name and mine, more especially as it’s to buy a boat + we want the money. What do you say to that, now?’ He looked at Hyacinth + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Moran, you’re too good to me—you’re too good altogether. + What did ever I do to deserve such kindness from you? But you’re all + wrong. I’ve got plenty of money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t you tell me so at once, and + not keep me standing here twisting my brains into hard knots with thinking + out ways of getting what you don’t want? If you’ve got the money you’ll + buy the boat. What better could you do with it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t want to buy the boat. I don’t want to live here always. I’m + going away out into the world. I want to see things and do things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Out into the world! Will you listen to the boy? Is it America you’re + thinking of? Ah, now, there’s enough gone out and left us lonely here. + Isn’t the best of all the boys and girls going to work for the strangers + in the strange land? and why would you be going after them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not going to America. I’m going to South Africa. I’m going to join + some young Irishmen to fight for the Boers and for freedom.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re going out to fight—to fight for the Boers! What is it that’s + in your head at all, Hyacinth Conneally? Tell me now.’ + </p> + <p> + Again Hyacinth hesitated. Was it possible to give utterance to the + thoughts and hopes which filled his mind? Could he tell anyone about the + furious fancies of the last few days, or of that weird vision of his + father’s which lay at the back of what he felt and dreamed? Could he even + speak of the enthusiasm which moved him to devote himself to the cause of + freedom and a threatened nationality? In the presence of a man of the + world the very effort to express himself would have acted as some + corrosive acid, and stained with patches of absurdity the whole fabric of + his dreams. He looked at Father Moran, and saw the priest’s eyes lit with + sympathy. He knew that he had a listener who would not scoff, who might, + perhaps, even understand. He began to speak, slowly and haltingly at + first, then more rapidly. At last he poured out with breathless, + incoherent speed the strange story of the Armageddon vision, the hopes + that were in him, the fierce enthusiasm, the passionate love for Ireland + which burnt in his soul. He was not conscious of the gaping inconsequences + of his train of emotion. He did not recognise how ridiculous it was to + connect the Boer War with the Apocalyptic battle of the saints, or the + utter impossibility of getting either one or the other into any sort of + relation with the existing condition of Ireland. + </p> + <p> + A casual observer might have supposed that Hyacinth had made a mistake in + telling his story to Father Moran. A smile, threatening actual laughter, + hovered visibly round the priest’s mouth. His eyes had a shrewd, searching + expression, difficult to interpret. Still, he listened to the rhapsody + without interrupting it, till Hyacinth stopped abruptly, smitten with + sudden self-consciousness, terrified of imminent ridicule. Nor were the + priest’s first words reassuring. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wouldn’t say now, Hyacinth Conneally, but there might be the makings of + a fine man in you yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I might have known,’ said Hyacinth angrily, ‘that you’d laugh at me. I + was a fool to tell you at all. But I’m in earnest about what I’m going to + do. Whatever you may think about the rest, there’s no laughing at that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you’re just wrong then, for I wasn’t laughing nor meaning to laugh + at all. God forbid that I should laugh at you, and I meant it when I said + that there was the makings of a fine man in you. Laugh at you! It’s little + you know me. Listen now, till I tell you something; but don’t you be + repeating it. This must be between you and me, and go no further. I was + very much of your way of thinking myself once.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth gazed at him in astonishment. The thought of Father Moran, + elderly, rotund, kindly; of Father Moran with sugar-stick in his pocket + for the school-children and a quaint jest on his lips for their mothers; + of Father Moran in his ruffled silk hat and shabby black coat and baggy + trousers—of this Father Moran mounted and armed, facing the British + infantry in South Africa, was wholly grotesque. He laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s yourself that has the bad manners to be laughing now,’ said the + priest. ‘But small blame to you if it was out to the Boers I was thinking + of going. The gray goose out there on the road might laugh—and she’s + the solemnest mortal I know—at the notion of me charging along with + maybe a pike in my hand, and the few gray hairs that’s left on the sides + of my head blowing about in the breeze I’d make as I went prancing to and + fro. But that’s not what I meant when I said that once upon a time I was + something of your way of thinking. And sure enough I was, but it’s a long + time ago now.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed, and for a minute or two he said no more. Hyacinth began to + wonder what he meant, and whether the promised confidence would be + forthcoming at all. Then the priest went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘When I was a young man—and it’s hard for you to think it, but I was + a fine young man; never a better lad at the hurling than I was, me that’s + a doddering old soggarth now—when I was a boy, as I’m telling you, + there was a deal of going to and fro in the country and meetings at night, + and drillings too, and plenty of talk of a rising—no less. Little + good came of it that ever I saw, but I’m not blaming the men that was in + it. They were good men, Hyacinth Conneally—men that would have given + the souls out of their bodies for the sake of Ireland. They would, sure, + for they loved Ireland well. But I had my own share in the doings. Of + course, it was before ever there was a word of my being a priest. That + came after. Thanks be to God for His mercies’—the old man crossed + himself reverently—‘He kept me from harm and the sin that might have + been laid on me. But in those days there were great thoughts in me, just + as there are in you to-day. Faith! I’m of opinion that my thoughts were + greater than yours, for I was all for fighting here in Ireland, for the + Poor Old Woman herself, and it’s out to some foreign war you’d be going to + fight for people that’s not friends of yours by so much as one heart’s + drop. Still, the feeling in you is the same as the feeling that was in me, + not a doubt of it. But, indeed, so far as I’m concerned, it’s over and + gone. I haven’t spoken to a mortal soul about such things these thirty + years, and I wouldn’t be doing it now only just to show you that I’m the + last man in Ireland that would laugh at you for what you’ve told me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m glad I told you what’s in my heart,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I’d like to + think I had your blessing with me when I go.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you won’t get it,’ said Father Moran, ‘so I tell you straight. I’ll + give you no blessing when you’re going away out of the country, just when + there’s need of every man in it. I tell you this—and you’ll remember + that I know what I’m talking about—it’s not men that ‘ll fight who + will help Ireland to-day, but men that will work.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Work!’ said Hyacinth—‘work! What work is there for a man like me to + do in Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t I offer you the chance of buying Thady Durkan’s boat? Isn’t there + work enough for any man in her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But that’s not the sort of work I ought to be doing. What good would it + be to anyone but myself? What good would it be to Ireland if I caught + boatloads of mackerel?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be making light of the mackerel, now. He’s a good fish if you get + him fresh, and split him down and fry him with a lump of butter in the + pan. There’s worse fish than the mackerel, as you’ll discover if you go to + South Africa, and find yourself living on a bit of some ancient tough + beast of an ostrich, or whatever it may happen to be that they eat out + there.’ + </p> + <p> + In his exalted mood Hyacinth felt insulted at the praise of the mackerel + and the laughter in the priest’s eyes when he suggested a dinner off + ostrich. He held out his hand, and said good-bye. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait, now—wait,’ said the priest; ‘don’t be in such a tearing + hurry. I’ll talk as serious as you like, and not hurt your feelings, if + you’ll stay for a minute or two. Listen, now. Isn’t the language dying on + the people’s lips? They’re talking the English, more and more of them + every day; and don’t you know as well as I do that when they lose their + Irish they’ll lose half the good that’s in them? What sort will the next + generation of our people be, with their own language gone from them, and + their Irish ways forgotten, and all the old tales and songs and tunes + perished away like the froth of the waves that the storm blew up across + the fields the night your father died? I’ll tell you what they’ll be—just + sham Englishmen. And the Lord knows the real thing is not the best kind of + man in the world, but the copy of an Englishman! sure, that’s the poorest + creature to be found anywhere on the face of God’s good earth. And that’s + what we’ll be, when the Irish is gone from us. Wouldn’t there be work + enough for you to do, now, if you were to buy Thady Durkan’s boat, and + stay here and help to keep the people to the old tongue and the old ways?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth shook his head. His mood was altogether too heroic to allow him + to think highly of what the priest said to him. He loved the Irish + language as his native speech—loved it, too, as a symbol, and + something more, perhaps—as an expression of the nationality of + Ireland. But it did not seem to him to be a very essential thing, and to + spend his life talking it and persuading other people to talk it was an + obscure kind of patriotism which made no strong appeal to him—which, + indeed, could not stand compared to the glory of drawing the sword. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve listened to what I’ve told you, Father Moran, and you say that you + understand what I feel, but I don’t think you really do, or else you + wouldn’t fancy that I could be satisfied to stay here. What is it you ask + of me? To spend my time fishing and talking Irish and dancing jigs. Ah! + it’s well enough I’d like to do it. Don’t think that such a life wouldn’t + be pleasant to me. It would be too pleasant. That’s what’s the matter with + it. It’s a temptation, and not a duty, that you’re setting before me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maybe it is now—maybe it is. And if it’s that way you think of it, + you’re right enough to say no to me. But for all that I understand you + well enough. Who’s this now coming up to the house to see me?’ He went + over to the window and looked out. ‘Isn’t it a queer life a priest lives + in a place like this, with never a minute of quiet peace from morning to + night but somebody will be coming interrupting and destroying it? First + it’s you, Hyacinth Conneally—not that I grudge the time to you when + you’re going off so soon—and now it’s Michael Kavanagh. Indeed, he’s + a decent man too, like yourself. Come in, Michael—come in. Don’t be + standing there pulling at the old door-bell. You know as well as myself + it’s broken these two years. It’s heartbroken the thing is ever since that + congested engineer put up the electric bell for me, and little use that + was, seeing that Biddy O’Halloran—that’s my housekeeper, Mr. + Conneally; you remember her—poured a jug of hot water into its + inside the way it wouldn’t annoy her with ringing so loud. And why the + noise of it vexed her I couldn’t say, for she’s as deaf as a post every + time I speak to her. Ah, you’re there, Michael, are you? Now, what do you + want?’ + </p> + <p> + A young farmer, black-haired, tall and straight, stood in the doorway with + his hat in his hand. He had brought a paper for Father Moran’s signature. + It related to a bull which the Congested Districts Board proposed to lend + to the parish, and of which Kavanagh had been chosen to be custodian. A + long conversation followed, conducted in Irish. The newly-erected + habitation for the animal was discussed; then the best method of bringing + him home from Clifden Station; then the kind of beast he was likely to + turn out to be, and the suitability of particular breeds of cattle to the + coarse, brine-soaked land of Carrowkeel. Kavanagh related a fearful tale + of a lot of ‘foreign’ fowls which had been planted in the neighbourhood by + the Board. They were particularly nice to look at, and settings of their + eggs were eagerly booked long beforehand. Then one by one they sickened + and died. Some people thought they died out of spite, being angered at the + way they had been treated in the train. Kavanagh himself did not think so + badly of them. He was of opinion that their spirits were desolated in them + with the way the rain came through the roof of their house, and that their + feet got sore with walking on the unaccustomed sea-sand. However their + death was to be explained, he hoped that the bull would turn out to be + hardier. Father Moran, on his part, hoped that the roof of the bull’s + house would turn out to be sounder. In the end the paper was signed, and + Kavanagh departed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, there,’ said the priest, ‘is a fine young man. Only for him, I don’t + know how I’d get on in the parish at all. He’s got a head on his + shoulders, and a notion of improving himself and his neighbours, and it + would do you good to see him dance a jig. But why need I tell you that + when you’ve seen him yourself? He is to be the secretary of the Gaelic + League when we get a branch of it started in Carrowkeel. And a good + secretary he’ll make, for his heart will be in the work. I dare say, now, + you’ve heard of the League when you were up in Dublin. Well, you’ll hear + more of it. By the time you’re back here again—— Now, don’t be + saying that you’ll not come back. I’ll give you a year to get sick of + fighting for the Boers, and then there’ll be a hunger on you for the old + place that will bring you back to it in spite of yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, Father Moran. Whatever happens to me, I’ll not forget + Carrowkeel nor you either. You’ve been good to me, and if I don’t take + your advice and stay where I am, it’s not through want of gratitude.’ + </p> + <p> + The priest wrung his hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll come back. It may be after I’m dead and gone, but back you’ll + come. Here or somewhere else in the old country you’ll spend your days + working for Ireland, because you’ll have learnt that working is better + than fighting.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + When Hyacinth got back to Dublin about the middle of February, the streets + were gay with amateur warriors. The fever for volunteering, which laid + hold on the middle classes after the series of regrettable incidents of + the winter, raged violently among the Irish Loyalists. Nowhere were the + recruiting officers more fervently besieged than in Dublin. Youthful + squireens who boasted of being admirable snipe shots, and possessed a + knowledge of all that pertained to horses, struggled with prim youths out + of banks for the privilege of serving as troopers. The sons of plump + graziers in the West made up parties with footmen out of their landlords’ + mansions, and arrived in Dublin hopeful of enlistment. Light-hearted + undergraduates of Trinity, drapers’ assistants of dubious character, and + the crowd of nondescripts whose time is spent in preparing for + examinations which they fail to pass, leaped at the opportunity of winning + glory and perhaps wealth in South Africa. Those who were fortunate enough + to be selected were sent to the Curragh to be broken in to their new + profession. They were clothed, to their own intense delight, in that + peculiar shade of yellow which is supposed to be a help to the soldier in + his efforts not to be shot. Their legs were screwed into putties and + breeches incredibly tight round the knees, which expanded rapidly higher + up, and hung round their hips in voluminous folds. Their jackets were + covered with a multiplicity of quaint little pockets, sewed on in + unexpected places, and each provided with a flap which buttoned over it. + The name of the artist who designed this costume has perished, nor does + there remain any written record of the use which these tightly-secured + pocket-covers were supposed to serve. Augusta Goold suggested that perhaps + they were meant to prevent the troopers’ money from falling out in the + event of any commanding officer ordering his men to receive the enemy + standing on their heads. ‘In the light of the intelligence displayed by + the English Generals up to the present,’ she said, ‘the War Office is + quite right to be prepared for such a thing happening.’ + </p> + <p> + It seemed possible to procure almost any amount of leave from the Curragh, + and the yeomen delighted to spend it in promenading the fashionable + streets of the metropolis. The tea-shops reaped a rich harvest from the + regal way in which they treated their female relatives and friends. + Indeed, their presence must have seriously disorganized the occupations by + which young women earn their living. It was difficult to imagine that the + sick in the hospitals could have been properly looked after, or the + letters of solicitors typewritten, so great was the number of damsels who + attached themselves to these attractive heroes. The philosophic observer + found another curious subject for speculation in the fact that this parade + of military splendour took place in a city whose population sympathized + intensely with the Boer cause, and was accustomed to receive the news of a + British defeat with delight. The Dublin artisan viewed the yeomen much as + the French in Paris must have looked upon the allied troops who entered + their city after Waterloo. The very name by which they were called had an + anti-national sound, and suggested the performance of other amateur + horse-soldiers in Wexford a century earlier. + </p> + <p> + The little band whose writings filled the pages of the <i>Croppy</i> were + more than anyone else enraged at the flaunting of Imperialism in their + streets. They had rejoiced quite openly after Christmas, and called + attention every week in prose and poetry to the moribund condition of the + British Empire, even boasting as if they themselves had borne a part in + its humiliation. They were still in a position to assert that the Boers + were victorious, and that the volunteers were likely to do no more than + exhaust the prison accommodation at Pretoria. They could and did compose + biting jests, but their very bitterness witnessed to a deep + disappointment. It was not possible to deny that the despised English + garrison in Ireland was displaying a wholly unlooked-for spirit. No one + could have expected that West Britons and ‘Seonini’ would have wanted to + fight. Very likely, when the time came, they would run away; but in the + meanwhile here they were, swaggering through the streets of Dublin, + outward and visible signs of a force in the country hostile to the hopes + of the <i>Croppy</i>, a force that some day Republican Ireland would have + to reckon with. + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold herself was more tolerant and more philosophic than her + friends. She looked at the yeomen with a certain admiration. Their + exuberant youthfulness, their strutting, and their obvious belief in + themselves, made a strong appeal to her imagination. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at that young man,’ she said to Hyacinth, pointing out a volunteer + who passed them in the street. ‘I happen to know who he is. In fact, I + knew his people very well indeed at one time, and spent a fortnight with + them once when that young man was a toddler, and sometimes sat on my knee—at + least, he may have sat on my knee. There were a good many children, and at + this distance of time I can’t be certain which of them it was that used to + worry me most during the hour before dinner. The father is a landlord in + the North, and comes of a fine old family. He’s a strong Protestant, and + English, of course, in all his sympathies. Well, a hundred years or so ago + that boy’s great-grandfather was swaggering about these same streets in a + uniform, just as his descendant is doing now. He helped to drag a cannon + into the Phoenix Park one day with a large placard tied over its muzzle—“Our + rights or——” Who do you think he was threatening? Just the + same England that this boy is so keen to fight for to-day!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you are thinking of the volunteer movement of 1780.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Afterwards,’ she went on, ‘he was one of the incorruptibles. You’ll see + his name on Jonah Barrington’s red list. He stood out to the last against + the Union, wouldn’t be bribed, and fought two duels with Castlereagh’s + bravoes. The curious thing is that the present man is quite proud of that + ancestor in a queer, inconsistent sort of way. Says the only mark of + distinction his family can boast of is that they didn’t get a Union + peerage. Strange, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is strange,’ said Hyacinth. ‘The Irish gentry of 1782 were men to be + proud of; yet look at their descendants to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is very sad. Do you know, I sometimes think that Ireland will never + get her freedom till those men take it for her. Almost every struggle that + Ireland ever made was captained by her aristocracy. Think of the + Geraldines and the O’Neills. Think of Sarsfield and the Wild Geese. Think + of the men who wrenched a measure of independence from England in 1782. + Think of Lord Edward and Smith O’Brien. No, we may talk and write and + agitate, but we’ll <i>do</i> nothing till we get the old families with + us.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth laughed. It seemed to him that Miss Goold was deliberately + talking nonsense, rejoicing in a paradox. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are likely to wait, if we wait for them. Look at those.’ He waved his + hand towards a group of yeomen who were chatting at the street corner. + ‘They are going to stamp out a nation in South Africa. Is it likely that + they will create one here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not likely’—she sighed as she spoke—‘yet stranger + things than that have happened. Have you ever considered what the present + English policy in Ireland really is? Do you understand that they are + trying to keep us quiet by bribing the priests? They think that the + Protestants are powerless, or that they will be loyal no matter what + happens. But think: These Protestants have been accustomed for generations + to regard themselves as a superior race. They conceive themselves to have + a natural right to govern. Now they are being snubbed and insulted. There + isn’t an English official from their Lord Lieutenant down but thinks he is + quite safe in ignoring the Protestants, and is only anxious to make + himself agreeable to the priests. That’s the beginning. Very soon they’ll + be bullied as well as snubbed. They will stand a good deal of it, because, + like most strong people, they are very stupid and slow at understanding; + but do you suppose they will always stand it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’re English, and not Irish,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I suppose they like what + their own people do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a lie. They are not English, though they say it themselves. In the + end they will find out that they are Irish. Some day a last insult, a + particularly barefaced robbery, or an intolerable oppression, will awake + them. Then they’ll turn on the people that betrayed them. They will + discover that Ireland—their Ireland—isn’t meant to be a + cabbage-garden for Manchester, nor yet a <i>crêche</i> for sucking + priests. Ah! it will be good to be alive when they find themselves. We + shall be within reach of the freedom of Ireland then.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was amazed at her vehement admiration for the class she was + accustomed to anathematize. He turned her words over and over in his mind. + They recalled, as so many different things seemed to do, his father’s + vision of an Armageddon. Amid the confusion of Irish politics this thought + of a Protestant and aristocratic revolt was strangely attractive; only it + seemed to be wholly impossible. He bewildered himself in the effort to + arrange the pieces of the game into some reasonable order. What was to be + thought of a priesthood who, contrary to all the traditions of their + Church, had nursed a revolution against the rights of property? or of a + people, amazingly quick of apprehension, idealistic of temperament, who + time after time submitted themselves blindfold to the tyranny of a single + leader, worshipped a man, and asked no questions about his policy? How was + he to place an aristocracy who refused to lead, and persisted in whining + about their wrongs to the inattentive shopkeepers of English towns, + gentlemen not wanting in honour and spirit courting a contemptuous + bourgeoisie with ridiculous flatteries? In what reasonable scheme of + things was it possible to place Protestants, blatant in their boasts about + liberty, who hugged subjection to a power which deliberately fostered the + growth of an ecclesiastical tyranny? Where amid this crazy dance of + self-contradictory fanatics and fools was a sane man to find a place on + which to stand? How, above all, was Ireland, a nation, to evolve itself? + </p> + <p> + He turned with relief from these perplexities to the work that lay before + him. However a man might worry and befog himself over the confused issues + of politics, it was at all events a straightforward and simple matter to + fight, and Hyacinth was going to the front as the eleventh Irish + volunteer. + </p> + <p> + To do Miss Goold justice, she had been extremely unwilling to enrol him, + and had refused to take a penny of his money. Her conscience, such as it + was after years of patriotic endeavour, rebelled against committing a + young man whom she really liked to the companionship of the men she had + enlisted and the care of their commander, Captain Albert Quinn. + </p> + <p> + This gentleman, whom she daily expected in Dublin, belonged to County + Mayo. He represented himself as a member of an ancient but impoverished + family, boasted of his military experience, and professed to be profoundly + skilled in all matters relating to horses. Miss Goold’s inquiries elicited + the fact that he held an undefined position under his brother, a + respectable manufacturer of woollen goods. His military experience had + been gathered during the few months he held a commission in the militia + battalion of the Connaught Rangers, an honourable position which he had + resigned because his brother officers persistently misunderstood his + methods of winning money at cards. No one, however, was found to deny that + he really did possess a wonderful knowledge of horses. The worst that Miss + Goold’s correspondents could suggest with regard to this third + qualification was that he knew too much. None of these drawbacks to the + Captain—he had assumed the title when he accepted the command of the + volunteers—weighed with Miss Goold. Indeed, she admitted to Mary + O’Dwyer, in a moment of frankness, that if her men weren’t more or less + blackguards she couldn’t expect them to go out to South Africa. She did + not speak equally plainly to Hyacinth. She recollected that he had + displayed a very inconvenient kind of morality when she first knew him, + and she believed him quite capable of breaking away from her influence + altogether if he discovered the kind of men she was willing to work with. + </p> + <p> + She did her best to persuade him to give up the idea of joining the force, + by pointing out to him that he was quite unfitted for the work that would + have to be done. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know nothing about horses,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever + been on the back of one.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth admitted that this was true. The inhabitants of Carrowkeel rarely + ride their shaggy ponies, and when they do it is sitting sideways just + above the creatures’ tails, with two creels for turf or seaweed in the + place where the saddle ought to be. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I don’t suppose you know much about shooting?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was depressed, for he had never pulled a trigger in his life. In + the West of Ireland a man is not allowed to possess a gun unless a + resident magistrate will certify to his loyalty and harmlessness. + Therefore, the inhabitants of villages like Carrowkeel are debarred from + shooting either snipe or seals, and the British Empire stands secure. + </p> + <p> + The difficulty about his horsemanship Hyacinth endeavoured to get over. He + arranged with a car-driver of his acquaintance to teach him to groom and + harness his horses. The man possessed two quadrupeds, which he described + as ‘the yellow pony’ and ‘the little mare.’ Hyacinth began with the yellow + pony, the oldest and staidest of the two. The little mare, who had a + temper of her own, gave him more trouble. She disliked his way of putting + the crupper under her tail, and one day, to her owner’s great delight, + ‘rose the divil on them’ when her new groom got the shaft of the car stuck + through her collar. + </p> + <p> + The want of experience in shooting was more difficult to get over. Grealy + owned an antiquated army rifle, which he lent to Hyacinth. It was, of + course, entirely different from the Mauser, and it was impossible to get + an opportunity for firing it off. However, there was some comfort to be + found in handling the thing, and taking long and careful aim at a distant + church spire through a window. + </p> + <p> + In the face of such enthusiasm, Miss Goold could not refuse her recruit. + She talked to him freely about her plans, and was eloquent about the + spirit and abilities of M. de Villeneuve, who was to take charge of her + soldiers after they joined him in Paris. On the subject of Captain Quinn + she was much more reticent, and she refused altogether to introduce + Hyacinth to his ten fellow troopers. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s not the least necessity,’ she said, ‘for you to meet them until + the time for starting comes. In fact, I may say it is safer for none of + you to know each other.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth experienced a thrill of agreeable excitement. He felt that he was + engaged in a real conspiracy. + </p> + <p> + ‘For fear of informers?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. One never can be quite sure of anyone. Of course, they can every one + of them give information against me. You can yourself, if you like. But no + one can betray anyone else, and as long as the men are safe, it doesn’t + matter what happens to me.’ + </p> + <p> + It was one of Miss Goold’s weaknesses that she imagined herself to be an + object of hatred and dread to the Government, and nothing irritated her + more than a suspicion that she was not being taken seriously. + </p> + <p> + The first glimpse that Hyacinth got of the character of the men among whom + he was to serve came to him through Tim Halloran. Tim was still sore from + the scolding he had been given for his conduct at the Rotunda meeting, and + missed no opportunity of scoffing—not, of course, publicly, but + among his friends—at Miss Goold and her volunteers. Hyacinth avoided + him as much as possible, but one evening he walked up against him on the + narrow footway at the corner of George’s Street. Halloran was delighted, + and seized him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re the very man I wanted to see,’ he said. ‘Have you heard about + Doherty?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth knew no one called Doherty. He said so, and tried to escape, but + Halloran held him fast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not know Doherty! How’s that? I thought you were in all dear Finola’s + secrets. Faith! I heard you were going out to fight for the Boers + yourself. I didn’t believe it, of course. You wouldn’t be such a fool. But + I thought you’d know that Doherty is one of the ten precious recruits, or, + rather, <i>was</i> one of them.’ He laughed loudly. ‘He’ll fight on the + other side now, if he fights at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ asked Hyacinth uneasily. + </p> + <p> + He was not at all sure what view the authorities in Dublin Castle might + take of recruiting for the Boer service, and Miss Goold’s hints about + informers recurred to his mind alarmingly. Perhaps this Doherty was an + informer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Halloran, ‘I was in one of the police-courts this morning + doing my work for the <i>Evening Star</i>. You know I report the police + news for that rag, don’t you? Well, I do. My column is called “The Doom of + the Disorderly.” Rather a good title that for a column of the kind! There + didn’t appear to be anything particular on, just a few ordinary drunks, + until this fellow Doherty was brought in. I thought I recognised him, and + when I heard his name I was certain of my man. He hadn’t done anything + very bad—assaulted a tram-conductor, or some such trifle—and + would have got off with a fine. However, a military man turned up and + claimed him as a deserter. His real name, it appears, is Johnston. He + deserted six weeks ago from the Dublin Fusiliers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How on earth did he impose on Miss Goold?’ asked Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + Halloran looked at him curiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I shouldn’t say he exactly imposed upon Finola. She’s not precisely a + fool, you know, and she has pretty accurate information about most of the + people she deals with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But surely———’ + </p> + <p> + Halloran shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear fellow, I don’t want to shatter your ideal, but the beautiful + Finola wants to work a revolution, and you can’t do that sort of thing + without soiling your hands. However, whether he imposed on her or not, + there’s no doubt about it that he was a deserter. Why, it appeared that + the fool was tattooed all over the arms and chest, and the military people + had a list of the designs. They had a perfectly plain case, and, indeed, + Doherty made no defence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What will they do with him?’ said Hyacinth, still uneasy about the + possibility of Doherty’s volunteering information. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Halloran. ‘I should think the best punishment would + be to send him out to Ladysmith. I dare say the Boers would pass him in if + the circumstances were explained to them. By the way, it would be rather + funny if he met the other nine out there on a kopje, wouldn’t it? He might + take them prisoners, or they might capture him. Either way the situation + would have its comic possibilities.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Miss Goold lived that part of her life which was not spent at political + meetings or in the office of the <i>Croppy</i> in a villa at Killiney. A + house agent would have described it as a most desirable residence, + standing in its own grounds, overlooking the sea. Its windows opened upon + one of the best of the many beautiful views of Dublin Bay. Its half-acre + of pleasure ground—attended to by a jobbing gardener once a week—was + trim and flowery. Its brown gate shone with frequently renewed paint, and + the drive up to the door was neatly raked. Inside Miss Goold’s wants were + ministered to by an eminently respectable man-servant, his wife who + cooked, and a maid. The married couple were fixtures, and had been with + Miss Goold since she started housekeeping. The maids varied. They never + quarrelled with their mistress, but they found it impossible to live with + their fellow-servants. Mr. and Mrs. Ginty were North of Ireland + Protestants of the severest type. Ginty himself was a strong Orangeman, + and his wife professed and enforced a strict code of morals. It did not in + the least vex Miss Goold to know that her servants’ quarters were + decorated with portraits of the reigning family in gilt frames, or that + King William III. pranced on a white charger above the kitchen range. Nor + had she any objection to her butler invoking a nightly malediction on the + Pope over his tumbler of whisky-and-water. Unfortunately, her maids—the + first three were Roman Catholics—found that their religious + convictions were outraged, and left, after stormy scenes. The red-haired + Protestant from the North who followed them was indifferent to the eternal + destiny of Leo XIII., but declined to be dictated to by Mrs. Ginty about + the conduct of her love affairs. Miss Goold, to whom the quarrel was + referred, pleaded the damsel’s cause, and suggested privately that not + even a policeman—she had a low opinion of the force—could be + swept away from the path of respectability by a passion for so ugly a + girl. Mrs. Ginty pointed out in reply that red hair and freckles were no + safeguard when a flirtation is carried on after dark. There seemed no + answer to this, and the maid returned indignantly to Ballymena. She was + succeeded by an anaemic and wholly incompetent niece of Mrs. Ginty’s, who + lived in such terror of her aunt that peace settled upon the household. + Miss Goold suspected that this girl did little or no work—was, in + fact, wholly unfit for her position; but so long as she herself was made + comfortable, it did not seem to matter who tidied away her clothes or + dusted her bedroom. + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold, in fact, had so far mastered the philosophy of life as to + understand that the only real use of money is to purchase comfort and + freedom from minor worries. She had deliberately cut herself adrift from + the social set to which she belonged by birth and education, and so had + little temptation to spend her substance either in giving parties or + enjoying them. The ladies who flutter round the Lord Lieutenant’s + hospitable court would as soon have thought of calling on a music-hall + danseuse as on Miss Goold. Their husbands, brothers, and sons took + liberties with her reputation in the smoking-rooms of the Kildare Street + Club, and professed to be in possession of private information about her + life which placed her outside the charity of even their tolerant morality. + The little circle of revolutionary politicians who gathered round the <i>Croppy</i> + were not the sort of people who gave dinner-parties; and there is, in + spite of the Gospel precept, a certain awkwardness nowadays in continually + asking people to dinner who cannot afford a retributive invitation. + Occasionally, however, Miss Goold did entertain a few of her friends, and + it was generally admitted among them that she not only provided food and + drink of great excellence, but arranged the appointments of her feasts + luxuriously. + </p> + <p> + On the very day after his interview with Tim Halloran Hyacinth received an + invitation to dinner at the Killiney villa. Captain Quinn, the note + informed him, had arrived in Dublin, and was anxious to make the + acquaintance of his future comrade-in-arms. It seemed to Hyacinth, + thinking over the story of Doherty, unlikely that the whole corps would be + asked to meet their Captain round a dinner-table, but he hoped that some + of them would be there. Their presence would reconcile him to the + awkwardness of not possessing a dress-suit. Grealy, who had occasionally + dined at the villa, warned him that a white shirt-front and black trousers + would certainly be expected of him, and Hyacinth made an unsuccessful + effort to hire garments for the night which would fit him. In the end, + since it seemed absurd to purchase even a second-hand suit for a single + evening, he brushed his Sunday clothes and bought a pair of patent-leather + shoes. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at the platform of Westland Row Station in good time for the + train he meant to catch. He was soon joined by Miss O’Dwyer, who appeared + with her head and neck swathed in a fluffy shawl and the train of a silk + skirt gathered in her hand. The view of several flounces of nebulous white + petticoat confirmed Hyacinth in his conjecture that she was bound for Miss + Goold’s party. No one who could be supposed to be a member of Captain + Quinn’s corps appeared on the platform, and Hyacinth became painfully + conscious of the shortcomings of his costume. He thought that even Miss + O’Dwyer glanced at it with some contempt. He wished that, failing a + dress-suit, he could have imitated the Imperial Yeomen who paraded the + streets, and donned some kind of uniform. His discomfort reached a climax + when Ginty received them at the door, passed Miss O’Dwyer on to the + incompetent niece, and solemnly extracted the new shoes from their + brown-paper parcel. + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold stood chatting to Captain Quinn when Hyacinth entered the + drawing-room. She moved forward to meet him, radiant and splendid, he + thought, beyond imagination. The rustle of her draperies, the faint scent + that hung around her, and the glitter of the stones on her throat, + bewildered him. + </p> + <p> + It was not till after he had been presented to his commander that he was + able to take his eyes off her. Then, in spite of his embarrassment, he + experienced surprise and disappointment. He had formed no clear idea of + what he expected Captain Quinn to be like, but he had a vague mental + picture of a furiously-moustachioed swashbuckler, a man of immense power + and hirsute hands. Instead, there stood before him a slim, small man, + clean shaved, with shiny black hair smoothly brushed. His clothes were so + well cut and his linen so glossy that he seemed fittingly placed even + beside the magnificent Finola. His hand, when Hyacinth shook it, seemed + absurdly small, and his feet, in their neat pumps, were more like a + woman’s than a man’s. Then, when he turned to resume his conversation with + his hostess, Hyacinth was able to watch his face. He noticed the man’s + eyes. They were small and quick, like a bird’s, and shifted rapidly, never + resting long on any object. His mouth was seldom closed, and the lips, + like the eyes, moved incessantly, though very slightly. There were strange + lines about the cheeks and jaws, which somehow suggested that the man had + seen a good deal of the evil of the world, and not altogether unwillingly. + His voice was wonderfully soft and clear, and he spoke without a trace of + any provincial accent. + </p> + <p> + During dinner Captain Quinn took the largest share in the conversation. It + appeared that he was a man of considerable knowledge of the world. He had + been a sailor in his time, and had made two voyages to Melbourne as + apprentice in a large sailing-ship. His stories were interesting and + humorously told; though they all dealt with experiences of his own, he + never allowed himself to figure as anything of a hero. He recounted, for + instance, how one night in Melbourne Docks he had run from a half-drunken + Swede, armed with a knife, and had spent hours dodging round the deck of a + ship and calling for help before he could get his assailant arrested. His + career as an officer in the mercantile navy was cut short by a period of + imprisonment in a small town in Madagascar. He did not specify his + offence, but gave a vivid account of life in the gaol. + </p> + <p> + ‘There were twenty of us altogether,’ he said—‘nineteen niggers and + myself. There was no nonsense about discipline or work. We just sat about + all day in an open courtyard, with nothing but a big iron gate between us + and liberty. All the same, there was very little chance of escape. There + were always four black soldiers on guard, truculent scoundrels with curly + swords. A sort of missionary man got wind of my being there, and used to + come and visit me. One day he gave me a tract called “Gideon.” I read the + thing because I had absolutely nothing else to read. In the end it turned + out an extremely useful tract, for it occurred to me that the old plan for + defeating the Midianites might work with the four black soldiers. I + organized the other prisoners, and divided them into three bands. We raked + up a pretty fair substitute for pitchers and lamps. Then one night we + played off the stratagem, and flurried the sentries to such an extent that + I got clear away. I rather fancy one or two others got off, too, but I + don’t know. I got into a rather disagreeable tramp steamer, and + volunteered as stoker. It’s so difficult to get stokers in the tropics + that the captain took his risks and kept me. I must say I was sorry + afterwards that I hadn’t stayed in the gaol.’ + </p> + <p> + The story was properly appreciated by the audience, and Hyacinth began to + feel a liking for the Captain. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know,’ said Miss Goold, when their laughter had subsided, ‘I + believe I know that identical tract. I once had an evangelical aunt, a + dear old lady who went about her house with a bunch of keys in a small + basket. She used to give me religious literature. I never was reduced to + reading it, but I distinctly remember a picture of Gideon with his mouth + open waving a torch on the front page. Could it have been the same?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It must have been,’ said the Captain. ‘Mine had that picture, too. Gideon + had nothing on but a sort of nightshirt with a belt to it, and only one + sleeve. By the way, if you are up in tracts, perhaps you know one called + “The Rock of Horeb “?’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Goold shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well,’ said the Captain, after appealing to Mary O’Dwyer and + Hyacinth, ‘it can’t be helped, but I must say I should like to meet + someone who had read “The Rock of Horeb.” I once sailed from Peru in an + exceedingly ill-found little barque loaded with guano. We had a very dull + time going through the tropics, and absolutely the only thing to read on + board was the first half of “The Rock of Horeb.” There were at least two + pages missing. I read it until I nearly knew it off by heart, and ever + since I’ve been trying to get a complete copy to see how it ended.’ + </p> + <p> + Some of his stories dealt with more civilized life. He delighted Miss + Goold with an account, not at all unfriendly, of the humours of the third + battalion of the Connaught Rangers. He quoted one of Mary O’Dwyer’s poems + to her, and pleased Hyacinth by his enthusiastic admiration of the + Connemara scenery. Good food, good wine, and a companion like Captain + Quinn, gladden the heart, and the little party was very merry when Ginty + deposited coffee and cigarettes and finally departed. + </p> + <p> + In Miss Goold’s house it was not the custom for the ladies to desert the + dinner-table by themselves. Very often the hostess was the only lady + present, and she had the greatest dislike to leaving a conversation just + when it was likely to become really interesting. Moreover, Miss Goold + smoked, not because it was a smart or emancipated thing to do, but because + she liked it, and—a curious note of femininity about her—she + objected to her drawing-room smelling of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + When Ginty had disappeared, and the serious business of enjoying the food + was completed, the talk of the party turned on the South African campaign + and the prospects of the Irish volunteers. Captain Quinn displayed a + considerable knowledge of the operations both of the Boers and the British + Generals. For the latter he expressed what appeared to Hyacinth to be an + exaggerated contempt, but the two ladies listened to it with evident + enjoyment. He delighted Miss Goold by his extreme eagerness to be off. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see,’ he said, ‘why we shouldn’t start to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question,’ said Augusta Goold. ‘M. de + Villeneuve arranged to send me a wire when he was ready for our men, and I + can’t well send them sooner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah,’ said the Captain, ‘but it seems to me the Frenchman is inclined to + dawdle. Don’t you think that if we went over it might hurry him up a bit?’ + </p> + <p> + She agreed that this was possible, but represented the difficulty of + keeping the men suitably employed in Paris for perhaps three weeks or a + month. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ she said, ‘they are all right here in Dublin, where I can keep + an eye on them. Besides, they have all got some sort of employment here, + and I don’t have to pay them. I haven’t got money enough to keep them in + Paris, and they won’t get anything from Dr. Leyds until you have them on + board the steamer.’ + </p> + <p> + Captain Quinn seemed satisfied, but later on in the evening he returned to + the subject. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t help feeling that it would be better for me, at all events, to go + over to Paris at once. I shouldn’t ask to draw any pay at present. I have + enough by me to keep me going for a few weeks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what about the men? Will you come back for them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I think that would be foolish and unnecessary. There is no use in + attracting attention to our movements. We can’t have a public send-off, + with cheers and that sort of thing, in any case, or march through the + streets like those ridiculous yeomen. Our fellows have got to slip away + quietly in twos and threes. We can’t tell whether we’re not being watched + this minute.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a note of sincerity in the Captain’s voice which convinced + Hyacinth that he was genuinely frightened at the thought of having a + policeman on his track. Miss Goold, too, looked appropriately solemn at + the suggestion. As a matter of fact, the authorities in Dublin Castle did + occasionally send a detective in plain clothes to walk after her. It is + not conceivable that they suspected her of wanting to blow up Nelson’s + pillar or assassinate a judge. Probably they merely wished to exercise the + members of the force, and, in the absence of any actual crime in the + country, felt that no harm could come to anyone through the ‘shadowing’ of + Miss Goold. The plan, though the authorities probably did not consider + this, had the incidental advantage of gratifying the lady herself. She was + perfectly acquainted with most of the officers who were put on her track, + and was always in good spirits when she recognised one of them waiting for + her in Westland Row Station. Captain Quinn kept a watch on her face with + his sharp shifting eyes while he spoke, and he was quick to realize that + he had hit on a way of flattering her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a person, Miss Goold, of whose actions the Government is bound to + take cognisance. I dare say they have their suspicions of me, and if you + and I are seen together in Dublin during the next week or two there will + certainly be inquiries; whereas, if I go over to Paris at once, there will + be no reason to watch you or anybody else.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you say, Mr. Conneally?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was puzzled at this extreme eagerness to be off. A suspicion + crossed his mind that the Captain meditated some kind of treachery. He + made what appeared to him to be a brilliant suggestion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me go with Captain Quinn. I can start to-morrow if necessary. I + should like to see something of Paris; and you know, Miss Goold, I’ve + plenty of money.’ + </p> + <p> + He thought it likely that the Captain would object to this plan. If he + meditated any kind of crooked dealing when he got to Paris, though + Hyacinth failed to see any motive for treachery, he would not want to be + saddled with a companion. The answer he received surprised him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Delightful! I shall be glad to have a friend with me. In the intervals of + military preparation we can have a gay time—not too gay, of course, + Miss Goold. I shall keep Mr. Conneally out of serious mischief. When we + have a little spare cash we may as well enjoy ourselves. We shan’t want to + carry money about with us in the Transvaal. We mean to live at the expense + of the English out there.’ + </p> + <p> + Augusta Goold smiled almost maternally at Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy,’ she said, ‘what seems plenty of money to you won’t go very + far in Paris. What is it? Let me see, you said two hundred pounds, and you + want to buy your outfit out of that. Keep a little by you in case of + accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said the Captain, ‘that’s settled. And if we are really to start + to-morrow, we ought to get home to-night. Mr. Conneally may be ready to + start at a moment’s notice, but he must at least pack up his tooth-brush. + May we see you safe back to town, Miss O’Dwyer? Remember, we shall expect + a valedictory ode in the next number of the <i>Croppy</i>. Write us + something that will go to a tune, something with a swing in it, and we’ll + sing it beside the camp fires on the veldt. Miss Goold’—he held out + his hand as he spoke—‘I’m a plain fellow’—he did not look in + the least as if he thought so—‘I’ve led too rough a life to be any + good at making pretty speeches, but I’m glad I’ve seen you and talked to + you. If I’m knocked on the head out there I shall go under satisfied, for + I’ve met a woman fit to be a queen—a woman who is a queen, the queen + of the heart of Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + It is likely that Augusta Goold, though she was certainly not a fool, was + a little excited by the homage, for she refused to say good-bye, declaring + that she would see the boat off next morning. It was a promise which would + cost her something to keep, for the mail steamer leaves at 8 a.m., and + Miss Goold was a lady who appreciated the warmth of her bed in the + mornings, especially during the early days of March, when the wind is + likely to be in the east. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Captain Quinn made himself very agreeable to Mary O’Dwyer during the short + journey back to Dublin. At Westland Row he saw her into a cab, which he + paid for. His last words were a reminder that he would expect to have her + war-song, music and all, sent after him to Paris. Then he turned to + Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all right. We’ve done with her. It was better to pay the cab for + her, else she might have scrupled about taking one, and we should have + been obliged to go home with her in a beastly tram. Come along. I’m + staying at the Gresham. It’s always as well to go to a decent place if you + have any money. You come with me, and we’ll have a drink and a talk.’ + </p> + <p> + There were two priests and a Bishop in earnest conference round the fire + in the hall of the hotel when they entered. When he discovered that their + talk was of the iniquities of the National Board of Education, and + therefore likely to last beyond midnight, Captain Quinn led the way into + the smoking-room, which was unoccupied. A sufficient supply of whisky and + a syphon of soda-water were set before them. The Captain stretched himself + in a comfortable chair, and lit his pipe. + </p> + <p> + ‘A fine woman, Miss Goold,’ he said meditatively. Hyacinth murmured an + assent. + </p> + <p> + ‘A very fine woman, and apparently pretty comfortably off. I wonder why on + earth she does it.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at Hyacinth as if he expected some sort of explanation to be + forthcoming. + </p> + <p> + ‘Does what?’ asked Hyacinth at length. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, all this revolutionary business: the <i>Croppy</i>, seditious + speeches, and now this rot about helping the Boers. What does she stand to + gain by it? I don’t suppose there’s any money in the business, and a woman + like that might get all the notoriety she wants in her own proper set, + without stumping the country and talking rot.’ + </p> + <p> + This way of looking at Augusta Goold’s patriotism was new to Hyacinth, and + he resented it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose she believes in the principles she professes,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + The Captain looked at him curiously, and then took a drink of his + whisky-and-soda. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he said, ‘let’s suppose she does. After all, her motives are + nothing to us, and she’s a damned fine woman, whatever she does it for.’ + </p> + <p> + He drank again. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would have been very pleasant, now, if she would have spent the next + few weeks with me in Paris. You won’t mind my saying that I’d rather have + had her than you, Conneally, as a companion in a little burst. However, I + saw at once that it wouldn’t do. Anyone with an eye in his head could tell + at a glance that she wasn’t that sort.’ + </p> + <p> + He sighed. Hyacinth was not quite sure that he understood. The suggestion + was so calmly made and reasoned on that it seemed impossible that it could + be as iniquitous as it appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s no one such an utter fool about women,’ went on the Captain, ‘as + your respectable married man, who never does anything wrong himself. I’d + heard of Miss Goold, as everybody has, and listened to discussions about + her character. You know just as well as I do the sort of things they say + about her.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth did know very well, and flared up in defence of his patroness. + </p> + <p> + ‘They are vile lies.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s just what I’m saying. Those respectable people who tell the lies + are such fools. They think that every woman who doesn’t mew about at + afternoon parties must be a bad one. Now, anyone with a little experience + would know at once that Miss Goold—what’s this the other one called + her? Oh yes, Finola—that Finola may be a fool, but she’s not <i>that</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + He pulled himself together as he spoke. Evidently he plumed himself, on + his experience and the faculty for judging it had brought him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I’d just as soon have asked my sister-in-law to come to Paris with + me for a fortnight as Finola. You don’t know Mrs. James Quinn, I think. + That’s a pity. She’s the most domesticated and virtuous <i>haus-frau</i> + in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused, and then asked Hyacinth, ‘Why are you doing it?’ + </p> + <p> + Again Hyacinth was reduced by sheer surprise to a futility. + </p> + <p> + ‘Doing what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, going out to fight for the Boers. Now, don’t, like a good fellow, say + you’re acting on principle. It’s all well enough to give Finola credit for + that kind of thing. She is, as we agreed, a splendid woman. But you + mustn’t ask me to believe in the whole corps in the same way.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth meditated a reply. It was clearly impossible to assert that he + wanted to fight for liberty, to give his life to the cause of an oppressed + nationality. It would be utterly absurd to tell the story of his father’s + vision, and say that he looked on the South African War as a skirmish + preliminary to the Armageddon. Sitting opposite to this cynical man of the + world and listening to his talk, Hyacinth came himself to disbelieve in + principle. He felt that there must be some baser motive at the bottom of + his desire to fight, only, for the life of him, he could not remember what + it was. He could not even imagine a good reason—good in the + estimation of his companion—why anyone should do so foolish a thing + as go out to the Transvaal. The Captain was not at all impatient. He sat + smoking quietly, until there seemed no prospect of Hyacinth answering; + then he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, if you don’t want to tell me, I don’t mind. Only I think you’re + foolish. You see, little accidents happen in these affairs. There are such + things as bullets, and one of them might hit you somewhere that would + matter. Then it would be my duty to send home your last words to your + sorrowing relatives, and it would be easier to do that if I knew exactly + what you had done. The death-bed repentance of the prodigal is always most + consoling to the elder brother—much more consoling, in fact, than + the prodigal’s return. Now, how the deuce am I to make up a plausible + repentance for you, if I don’t know what you’ve done?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I’ve not done anything,’ said Hyacinth ineffectively. + </p> + <p> + The Captain ignored him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, now, it can’t be anything very bad at your age. Have you got into a + mess with a girl? Or’—he brightened up at the guess—‘are you + hopelessly enamoured of the beautiful Finola? That would be most suitable. + The bold, bad woman sends the minstrel boy to his death, with his wild + harp slung behind him. I could draw tears from the stoniest-hearted elder + brother over that.’ + </p> + <p> + If he could have thought of a crime at the moment, Hyacinth would probably + have confessed it; but he was bewildered, and could hit on nothing better + than: + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no elder brother—in fact, no relation of any sort.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lucky man! Now, I have a perfect specimen of a brother—James Quinn, + Esquire, of Ballymoy. He’s a churchwarden. Think of that! If it should be + your melancholy duty to send the message home to him—in case that + bullet hits me, I mean—tell him——— Oh, there’s no + false pride about me. Fill your glass again. I don’t in the least mind + your knowing that I wouldn’t go a step to fight for Boer or Briton either + if it wasn’t for a little affair connected with some horses and a cheque. + You see, the War Office people sent down a perfect idiot to buy remounts + for the cavalry in Galway and Mayo. He was the sort of idiot that would + tempt an Archbishop to swindle him. I rather overdid it, I’m afraid, and + now the matter is likely to come out.’ + </p> + <p> + For all his boasted powers of observation, Captain Quinn failed to notice + the disgust and alarm on Hyacinth’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘I stuck the fool,’ he went on, ‘with every old screw in the country. I + got broken-winded mares from the ploughs. I collected a regular hospital + of spavined, knock-kneed beasts, and he took them from me without a word + at thirty pounds apiece. It would have been all right if I had gone no + further. But, hang it all! I got to the end of my tether. I declare to you + I don’t believe there was another screw left in the whole county of Mayo, + and unless I took to selling him the asses I couldn’t go on. Then I heard + of this plan of your friend Finola’s, and I determined to make a little + coup and clear. I altered a cheque. The idiot was on his way to an + out-of-the-way corner of Connemara looking for mounted infantry cobs. I + knew he wouldn’t see his bank-book for at least a week, so I chanced it. + That’s the reason why I am so uncommonly anxious to get clear at once. If + I once get off, it will be next door to impossible to get me back again. + General Joubert will hardly give me up. I’m not the least afraid of those + ridiculous policemen who walk about after Finola. But I am very much + afraid of being tapped on the shoulder for reasons quite non-political. I + can tell you I’ve been on the jump ever since yesterday, when I cashed the + cheque, and I shan’t feel easy till I’ve left France behind me. I fancy + I’m safe for the present. The idiot is sure to try fifty ways of getting + his accounts straight before he lights on my little cheque; and when he + does, I’ve covered my tracks pretty well. My dear brother hasn’t the + slightest notion what’s become of me. I dare say he’ll stop making + inquiries as soon as the police begin. Poor old chap! He’ll feel it about + the family name, and so on.’ + </p> + <p> + He smiled at his own reflection in the mirror over the chimneypiece. He + was evidently well satisfied with the performance he had narrated. Then at + last Hyacinth found himself able to speak. Again, as when he had defeated + Dr. Spenser in the college lecture-room, his own coolness surprised him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re an infernal blackguard!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Captain Quinn looked at him with a surprise that was perfectly genuine. He + doubted if he could have heard correctly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did you say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I said,’ repeated Hyacinth, ‘you are an infernal blackguard!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you really suppose that I would be going on this fool of an + expedition if I wasn’t?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall tell Miss Goold the story you have just told me. I shall tell her + to-morrow morning before the boat sails.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said the Captain; ‘but don’t suppose for a moment that you’ll + shock Finola. She doesn’t know this particular story about me, but I + expect she knows another every bit as bad, and I dare say she will regard + the whole thing as a justifiable spoiling of the Egyptians. By the way ‘—there + was a note of anxiety in his voice—‘I hope you won’t find it + necessary to repeat anything I’ve said about the lady herself. <i>That</i> + might irritate her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it likely,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I would repeat that kind of talk to + any woman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so. I admire your attitude. Such things are entirely unfit for + repetition. But seriously, now, what on earth do you expect to happen when + you tell her? I’m perfectly certain that every single volunteer she’s got + is just as great a blackguard—your word, my dear fellow—as I + am, and Finola knows it perfectly well.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. The phrase in Miss Goold’s letter in which she had + originally described her men as blackguards recurred to his mind. He + remembered the story of Doherty. His anger began to give way to a sick + feeling of disgust. + </p> + <p> + ‘Think, now,’ said the Captain: ‘is it likely that you could enlist a + corps of Sunday-school teachers for this kind of work? I’ll give you + credit for the highest motives, though I’m blest if I understand them; but + how can you suppose that there is anyone else in the whole world that + feels the way you feel or wants to act as you are doing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I dare say you are right,’ said Hyacinth feebly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I’m right—perfectly right.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth tried to lift his glass of whisky-and-water to his lips, but his + hand trembled, and he was obliged to put it down. Captain Quinn watched + him wipe the spilt liquid off his hand, and then settle down in his chair + with his head bowed and his eyes half shut. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sit up, man,’ he said. ‘It’s all right. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed + of, at all events. But look here, you ought not to come with us at all. + It’s no job for a man like you. You back out of it. Don’t turn up + to-morrow morning. I’ll explain to Finola if she’s there, and if not I’ll + write her a letter that will set you straight with her. I’m really sorry + for you, Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked up at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m sorry I called you a blackguard,’ he said. ‘You’re not any worse than + everyone else in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘Don’t take it like that. From your point + of view you were quite right to call me a blackguard. And, mind you, there + are plenty of people in the world who aren’t blackguards. There’s my + brother, for instance. He’s a bit of a prig—in fact, he’s as + priggish as he well can be—but he’s never done anything but run + straight. I don’t suppose he could go crooked if he tried.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth got up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-night,’ he said, ‘and good-bye. I shan’t go with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a minute,’ said Captain Quinn. ‘I think I’ve done you one good turn + to-night in stopping you going to South Africa. Now I’ll do you another, + and one at the same time to that brother of mine. I left him in a hurry. I + told you that, but I don’t think I mentioned that I was in his employment. + He runs a woollen factory down in Mayo. I owned a share in the business + once, but that went long ago, and the whole thing belongs to James now. I + was a sort of clerk and general agent. I wasn’t really the least use, for + I never did any work. James was for ever complaining, but I’m bound to say + he stuck to me. I’ll give you a letter to him, and I dare say you may get + the job that I’ve chucked. It’s not much of a thing, but it may suit you + for a while. Sit down till I write my letter.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth obeyed. Since his anger evaporated a sort of numbness had crept + over his mind. He scarcely understood what was said to him. He had a vague + feeling of gratitude towards Captain Quinn, and at the same time a great + desire to get away and be alone. He felt that he required to adjust his + mind to the new thoughts which had been crowded into it. When he received + the letter he put it into his pocket, and rose again to go. The Captain + saw him to the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye.’ Hyacinth heard him, but his voice seemed far off, and his + words meaningless. ‘Take my advice and run down to Ballymoy at once. Don’t + hang about Finola any more. She’s a splendid woman, but she’s not for you. + If you married her you’d be perfectly miserable. Not that I think she’d + ever marry you. Still, she might. Women do such odd things. If by any + chance she does, you’ll have to be very careful. Give her her head, and + take her easy up to the jumps. Don’t try to hustle her, and for God’s sake + don’t begin sawing at her mouth. I’d very much like to be here to see you + in the character of Mr. Augusta Goold.’ He sighed. ‘But, of course, I + can’t. The British Isles will be too hot for me for a while. However, who + can tell what might happen if I win a good medal from old Kruger, and + capture a few British Generals? I might act best man for you yet, if + you’ll wait a year or two.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth got home to his lodgings the first object that met his eye + was Grealy’s ancient rifle. He tied a label round its barrel addressed to + the owner. Then he packed his few belongings carefully and strapped his + bag. So far he was sure of himself. He had no doubt whatever that he must + leave Dublin at once. He felt that he could not endure an interview with + Augusta Goold. She might blame him or might pity him. Either would be + intolerable. She might even justify herself to him, might beat him into + submission by sheer force of her beauty and her passion, as she had done + once before. He would run no such risk. He felt that he could not + sacrifice his sense of right and wrong, could not allow himself to be + dragged into the moral chaos in which, it seemed to him now, Miss Goold + lived. He was unconscious of any Divine leading, or even of any direct + reliance on the obligations of honour. He could not himself have told why + he clung with such desperate terror to his plan of escaping from his + surroundings. Simply he could not do certain things or associate as a + friend with people who did them. To get away from Dublin was the first + necessity. For a moment it occurred to him that he might go to Dr. Henry, + tell him the whole story, and ask for advice and help. But that was + impossible. How could he confess the degradation of his ideal? How could + he resist the inevitable reminder that he had been warned beforehand? + Besides, not even now, after all that he had seen, could he accept Dr. + Henry’s point of view. He still believed in Ireland, still hoped to serve + her, still looked for the coming of his father’s captain to lead the + saints to the final victory. Miss Goold had failed him, but he was not yet + ready to enrol himself a citizen of England. + </p> + <p> + No, he must leave Dublin. But where to go? His lamp burnt dim and expired + as he sat thinking. His fire had long ago gone out. He shivered with cold + and misery, while the faint light of the dawn stole into his room. He + heard the first twitter of the birds in the convent garden behind his + lodging. Then came the noise of the earliest traffic, the unnaturally loud + rattle of the dust-carts on their rounds. A steamer hooted far away down + the river, and an early bell rang the neighbouring nuns to prayer. + Hyacinth grew desperate. Could he go home, back to the fishing-boats and + simple people of Carrowkeel? A great desire for the old scenes seized upon + him. He fought against it with all his might. He had rejected the offer of + the home life once. Now, no doubt, it would be closed against him. The + boat that might have been his was sold long ago. He would not go back to + confess himself a fool and a failure. + </p> + <p> + Gradually his mind worked back over the conversation in the hotel with + Captain Quinn. The recollection of the latter part of it, which had meant + nothing at the time, grew clear. He felt for the letter in his pocket, and + drew it out. After all, why should he not offer himself to James Quinn? + Ballymoy was remote enough to be a hiding-place. It was in County Mayo, + the Captain had said. He had never heard of the place, and it seemed + likely that no one else, except its inhabitants, knew of it either. At + least, there was no reason that he could see why he should not go there. + His brain refused to work any longer, either at planning or remembering. + His lips formed the word Ballymoy. He repeated it again and again. He + seemed to go on repeating it in the troubled sleep which came to him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + The Irish get credit, even from their enemies, for being a quick-witted, + imaginative, and artistic people, yet they display astonishingly little + taste or originality in their domestic architecture. In Connaught, where + the Celtic genius may be supposed to have the freest opportunity for + expressing itself, the towns are all exactly alike, and their resemblance + consists in the absence of any beauty which can please the eye. An English + country town, although the English bucolic is notoriously as stupid as an + ox, has certain features of its own. So has a Swiss cottage or a French + village. It is possible to represent these upon Christmas cards or the + lids of chocolate-boxes without labelling them English, Swiss, or French. + Any moderately well educated young lady will recognise them at once, and + exclaim without hesitation, ‘How truly English!’ or ‘How sweetly Swiss!’ + But no one can depict an Irish town with any hope of having it recognised + unless he idealizes boldly, introducing a highly-intelligent pig, or a man + in knee-breeches kissing a fancifully-attired colleen. And then, after + all, he might as well have labelled it Irish at once in good plain print, + and saved himself the trouble of drawing the symbolic figures. + </p> + <p> + To describe Ballymoy, therefore, mountains, rivers, and such like natural + eccentricities being left out of the count, is to describe fifty other + West of Ireland towns. There is a railway-station, bleak, gray, and + windswept, situated, for the benefit of local car-owners, a mile and a + half from the town, and the road which connects the two is execrable. + There is a workhouse, in Ballymoy as everywhere else in this lost land the + most prominent building. There is a convent, immense and wonderfully + white, with rows and rows of staring windows and a far-seen figure of the + Blessed Virgin, poised in a niche above the main door. There is a Roman + Catholic church, gray-walled, gray-roofed, and unspeakably hideous, but + large and, like the workhouse and the convent, obtruding itself upon the + eye. It seems as if the inhabitants of the town must all of them be + forced, and that at no distant date, either into religion or pauperism, + just as small bodies floating in a pond are sucked into connection with + one or other of the logs which lie among them. The shops in the one + tortuous street block the footpaths in front of their doors with piles of + empty packing-cases. The passenger is saluted, here by a buffet in the + face from a waterproof coat suspended outside a draper’s, there by a hot + breath of whisky-laden air. Two shops out of every three are + public-houses. These occupy a very beautiful position in the economic life + of the town. Their profits go to build the church, to pay the priests, and + to fill the coffers of the nuns. The making of the profits fills the + workhouse. A little aloof stands the Protestant church, austere to look + upon, expressing in all its lines a grim reproach of the people’s life. + Beyond it, among scanty, stooped trees, is the rectory, gray, as + everything else is, wearing, like a decayed lady, the air of having lived + through better days. + </p> + <p> + Such, save for one feature, is Ballymoy, as the traveller sees it, as + Hyacinth Conneally saw it when he arrived there one gusty afternoon. The + one unusual feature is Mr. James Quinn’s woollen mill. It stands, a gaunt + and indeed somewhat dilapidated building, at the bottom of the street, in + the angle where the river turns sharply to flow under the bridge. The + water just above the bridge is swept into a channel and forced to turn the + wheel which works some primitive machinery within. In the centre of the + mill’s front is an archway through which carts pass into the paved square + behind. Here is the weighbridge, and here great bundles of heavy-smelling + fleeces are unloaded. Off the square is the office where Mr. Quinn sits, + pays for the wool, and enters the weight of it in damp ledgers. Here on + Saturdays two or three men and a score of girls receive their wages. The + business is a peculiar one. You may bring your wool to Mr. Quinn in + fleeces, just as you sheer it off the sheep’s back. He will pay you for + it, more or less, according to the amount of trouble you have taken with + your sheep. This is the way the younger generation likes to treat its + wool. If you are older, and are blessed with a wife able to card and spin, + you deal differently with Mr. Quinn. For many evenings after the shearing + your wife sits by the fireside with two carding-combs in her hands, and + wipes off them wonderfully soft rolls of wool. Afterwards she fetches the + great wheel from its nook, and you watch her pulling out an endless gray + thread while she steps back and forwards across the floor. The girls watch + her, too, but not, as you do, with sleepy admiration. Their emotion is + amused contempt. Nevertheless, your kitchen wall is gradually decorated + with bunches of great gray balls. When these have accumulated + sufficiently, you take them to Mr. Quinn. A certain number of them become + his property. Out of the rest he will weave what you like—coarse + yellow flannel, good for bawneens, and, when it is dyed crimson, for + petticoats; or blankets—not fluffy like the blankets that are bought + in shops, but warm to sleep under when the winter comes; or perhaps + frieze, very thick and rough, the one fabric that will resist the winter + rain. + </p> + <p> + This portion of his business Mr. Quinn finds to be decreasing year by + year. Fewer and fewer women care to card and spin the wool. The younger + men find it more profitable to sell it at once, and to wear, instead of + the old bawneens, shirts called flannel which are brought over from + cotton-spinning Lancashire, and sold in the shops. The younger women think + that they look prettier in gowns made artfully by the local dressmaker out + of feeble materials got up to catch the eye. If now and then, for the sake + of real warmth, one of them makes a petticoat of the old crimson flannel, + it is kept so short that, save in very heavy rain, it can be concealed. + Unfortunately, while these old-fashioned profits are vanishing, Mr. Quinn + finds it very hard to increase the other branch of his business. The + fabrics which he makes are good, so good that he finds it difficult to + sell them in the teeth of competition. The country shops are flooded with + what he calls ‘shoddy.’ An army of eager commercial travellers pushes + showy goods on the shopkeepers and the public at half his price. Even the + farmers in remote districts are beginning to acquire a taste for + smartness. Some things in which he used to do a useful trade are now + scarcely worth making. There is hardly any demand for the checked + head-kerchiefs. The women prefer hats and bonnets, decked with cheap + ribbons or artificial flowers; and these bring no trade to Mr. Quinn’s + mill. Still, he manages to hold on. The Lancashire people, though they + have invented flannelette, cannot as yet make a passable imitation of + frieze, and there is a Dublin house which buys annually all the blankets + he can turn out. It is true that even there, and for the best class of + customers, prices have to be cut so as to leave a bare margin of profit. + Yet since there is a margin, Mr. Quinn holds on, though not very + hopefully. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth left the bulk of his luggage—a packing-case containing the + books which the auctioneer had failed to dispose of in Carrowkeel—at + the station, and walked into Ballymoy carrying his bag. He had little + difficulty in making his way to the mill, and found the owner of it in his + office. It was difficult at first to believe that James Quinn could be any + relation to Captain Albert, the traveller, horse-dealer, soldier, and + thief. This man was tall, though he stooped when he stood to receive his + visitor. His movements were slow. His fair hair lay thin across his + forehead, and was touched above the ears with gray. His blue eyes were + very gentle, and had a way of looking long and steadily at what they saw. + A glance at his face left the impression that life, perhaps by no very + gentle means, had taught him patience. + </p> + <p> + ‘This letter will introduce me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is from your brother, + Captain, or Mr. Albert, Quinn.’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn took the letter, and turned it over slowly. Then, without + opening it, he laid it on the table in front of him. His eyes travelled + from it to Hyacinth’s face, and rested there. It was some time before he + spoke, and then it was to correct Hyacinth upon a trivial point. + </p> + <p> + ‘My half-brother,’ he said. ‘My father married twice, and Albert is the + son of his second wife. You may have noticed that he is a great deal + younger than I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He looks younger, certainly,’ said Hyacinth, for the other was waiting + for a reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nearly twenty years younger. Albert is only just thirty.’ + </p> + <p> + The exact age of the Captain was uninteresting and seemed to be beside the + purpose of the visit. Hyacinth shifted his chair and fidgeted, uncertain + what to do or say next. + </p> + <p> + ‘Albert gave you this letter to me. Is he a friend of yours?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn looked at him again steadily. It seemed—but this may + have been fancy—that there was a kindlier expression in his eyes + after the emphatic repudiation of friendship with Albert. At length he + took up the letter, and read it through slowly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did my brother give you this letter?’ + </p> + <p> + The question was a puzzling one. Hyacinth had never thought of trying to + understand the Captain’s motives. Then the conversation in the hotel + recurred to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘He said that he wanted to do a good turn to me and to you also.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What had you done for him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + Apparently James Quinn was not in the least vexed at the brevity of the + answers he received, or disturbed because his cross-examination was + obviously disagreeable to Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘In this letter,’ he went on, referring to the document as he spoke, ‘he + describes you as a young man who is “certainly honest, probably religious, + and possibly intelligent.” I presume you know my brother, and if you do, + you may be surprised to hear that I am quite prepared to take his word for + all this. I have very seldom known Albert to tell me lies, and I don’t + know why he should want to deceive me in this case. Still, I am a little + puzzled to account for his giving you the letter. Can you add nothing in + the way of explanation to what you have said?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know that I can,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you tell me how you met my brother, and what he is doing now, or + where he is?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not think I should be justified in doing so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well! I can understand that in certain circumstances Albert would be + very grateful to a man who would hold his tongue. He might be quite + willing to do you a good turn if you undertook to answer no questions + about him.’ + </p> + <p> + He smiled as he spoke, a little grimly, but there was laughter lurking in + the corners of his eyes. A Puritan will sometimes smile in such a way at + the thought of a sinful situation, too solemn to be laughed at openly, but + appealing to a not entirely atrophied sense of humour. Hyacinth felt + reassured. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed,’ he said, ‘I made no promise of silence. It is only that—well, + I don’t think——’ + </p> + <p> + James Quinn waited patiently for the conclusion of the sentence, but + Hyacinth never arrived at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘In this letter,’ he said at last, ‘my brother asks me to give you the + place he lately held in my business. Now, I don’t want to press you to say + anything you don’t want to, but before we go further I must ask you this, + Were you implicated in the affair yourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon. I don’t quite understand what you mean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I suppose that since my brother is anxious that you should hold + your tongue, he has done something that won’t bear talking about. Were you + implicated in—in whatever the trouble was?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ said Hyacinth. ‘In fact, it was on account of what you + speak of as “trouble” that I declined to have anything more to do with + your brother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is probably very much to your credit, and, in the light of my + brother’s estimate of your character, I may say that I entirely believe + what you say. Am I to understand that you are an applicant for the post in + my business which Albert held, and which this letter tells me I may + consider vacant?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is what brought me down here,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you any other recommendations or testimonials as to character to + show me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. But there are several people who would answer questions about me if + you wrote to them: Dr. Henry, of Trinity College, would, or Miss Augusta + Goold, or Father Moran, of Carrowkeel, in County Galway.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have given me the most remarkable list of references I ever came + across in my life. I don’t suppose anyone ever before was recommended for + a post by a Protestant divinity professor, a notoriously violent political + agitator, a Roman Catholic priest, and a—well, we won’t describe my + brother. How do you come to be mixed up with all these people? Who are + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am the son of Æneas Conneally, Rector of Carrowkeel, who died last + Christmas.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said James Quinn, ‘I suppose if all these people are prepared to + recommend you, your character must be all right. Now, tell me, do you know + what the post is you are applying for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And I may as well say that I have had no experience + or business training whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I should suppose from the way you have come to me. Well, my brother + was clerk and traveller for my business. He was supposed to help me to + keep accounts and to push the sale of my goods among the shopkeepers in + Connaught. As a matter of fact, he never did either the one or the other. + When he was at home he did nothing. When he was on the road he bought and + sold horses. I paid him eighty pounds a year and his travelling expenses. + I also promised him a percentage on the profits of the sales he effected. + Now, do you think this work would suit you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I might not be able to do it,’ said Hyacinth, ‘but I should very much + like to be allowed to try. I can understand that I shall be very little + use at first, and I am willing to work without any salary for a time, + perhaps six months, until I have learned something about your business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, now, that’s a business-like offer. I’ll give you a trial, if it was + only for the sake of your list of references. I won’t keep you six months + without paying you if you turn out to be any good at all. And I think + there must be something in you, for you’ve gone about getting this job in + the queerest way I ever heard of. Would you like any time to make up your + mind finally before accepting the post?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I accept at once.’ + </p> + <p> + They walked together through the mill, and looked at the machines and the + workers. The girls smiled when Mr. Quinn stopped to speak to them, and + looked with frank curiosity at Hyacinth. The three or four men who did the + heavier work stopped and chatted for a few minutes when they came to them. + Evidently there was no soreness or distrust here between the employer and + the employed. When they had gone through the rooms where the work was + going on, they climbed a staircase like a ladder, and came to the loft + where the wool was stored. Hyacinth handled it as he was directed, and + endeavoured to appreciate the difference between the good and the inferior + qualities. They passed by an unglazed window at the back of the mill, and + Mr. Quinn pointed out his own house. It stood among trees and shrubs, now + for the most part bare, but giving promise of shady privacy in summertime. + Long windows opened out on to a lawn stretching down to the watercourse + which fed the millwheel. A gravel path skirted one side of the house + leading to a bridge, and thence to a doorway in a high wall, beyond which + lay the road. As they looked the door opened, and a woman with two little + girls came through. They crossed the bridge, and walked up to the house. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is my wife,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘and my two little girls.’ + </p> + <p> + He stretched out between the bars of the window, and shouted to them. All + three looked back. Mrs. Quinn waved her hand, and the two children shouted + in reply. Then a light appeared in one of the windows, and Hyacinth caught + a glimpse of a trim maid-servant pulling the curtains across it. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall be having tea at half-past six,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘Will you come + and join us? By the way, where are you staying?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth accepted the invitation, and confessed that he had not as yet + looked for any place to lay his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Better go to the hotel for to-night. It’s not much of a place, but + you will have to learn to put up with that sort of accommodation. Tomorrow + we’ll try and find you some decent lodgings.’ + </p> + <p> + The hotel struck even Hyacinth as of inferior quality, though it boasted + great things in the timetable advertisements, and called itself ‘Imperial’ + in large gold letters above its door. A smell of whisky and tobacco + greeted him as he entered, and a waiter with a greasy coat, in answer to + inquiries about a bed, sent him down a dark passage to seek a lady called + Miss Sweeney at the bar. Large leather cases with broad straps and + waterproof-covered baskets blocked the passage, and Hyacinth stumbled + among them for some time before he discovered Miss Sweeney reading a + periodical called <i>Spicy Bits</i> among her whisky-bottles. She was a + young woman of would-be fashionable appearance, and acted apparently in + the double capacity of barmaid and clerk. On hearing that Hyacinth + required, not whisky, but a bedroom, she requested him to go forward to + the office, indicating a glass case at the far end of the bar counter. + Here he repeated his request to her through a small opening in the glass, + and received her assurance, given with great condescension, that No. 42 + was vacant, and, further, that there was a fire in the commercial room. A + boy whom she summoned carried Hyacinth’s bag to an extremely dirty and + ill-furnished bedroom, and afterwards conducted him to the promised fire. + Two other guests were seated at it when he entered, who, after a long + stare, made room for him. Apparently there was no one else stopping in the + hotel, and the whole mass of cumbrous baggage which blocked the passage to + the bar must belong to them. Hyacinth realized, with a feeling of disgust + which he could not account for, that these were two members of his new + profession—fellow-travellers in the voyages of commerce. He gathered—for + they talked loudly, without regarding his presence—that they + represented two Manchester firms which were rivals in the wholesale + drapery business. Very much of what they said was unintelligible to him, + though the words were familiar. He knew that ‘lines’ could be ‘quoted,’ + but not apparently in the same sense in which they discussed these + operations, and it puzzled him to hear of muslins being ‘done at one and + seven-eighths.’ He sat for a time wondering at the waste of money and + energy involved in sending these men to remote corners of Ireland to + search for customers. Then he left them, and made his way down the muddy + street to Mr. Quinn’s house. + </p> + <p> + The room into which he was shown was different from any he had ever seen. + It was lit by a single lamp with a dull glass globe and a turf fire which + burnt brightly. Two straight-backed, leather-covered chairs stood one on + either side of the tiled hearth. Near one stood a little table covered + with neatly-arranged books, and, rising from among them, a reading-lamp, + as yet unlit. Beyond the other was a work-table strewed with reels and + scissors, on which lay a child’s frock and some stockings. The table was + laid for tea. On it were plates piled up with floury scones, delicate + beleek saucers full of butter patted thin into the shapes of shells, and + jam in coloured glass dishes cased in silver filigree. A large home-baked + loaf of soda bread on a wooden platter stood at one end of the table, and + near it a sponge-cake. At the other end was an array of cups and saucers + with silver spoons that glittered, a jug of cream, and one of milk. Two of + the cups were larger than the others, and had those curious bars across + them which are designed to save men from wetting their moustaches when + they drink. No room and no preparation for a meal could have offered a + more striking contrast to Augusta Goold’s dining-room, her groups of + wineglasses, multiplicity of heavy-handled knives and forks, and her + candles shrouded in silk. Nor was the dainty neatness less remote from the + cracked delf and huddled sordidness of his old home. + </p> + <p> + Long before Hyacinth had realized an impression of the scene before him + Mrs. Quinn greeted him, and led him to the fire. Her two little girls, who + lay on the hearthrug with a picture-book between them, were bidden to make + room for him. When her husband appeared she bustled off, and in a minute + or two she and the maid came in bringing toast and tea and hot water + hissing in a silver urn. + </p> + <p> + As the evening passed Hyacinth began to realize that he had entered into a + home of peace. He felt that these people were neither greatly anxious to + be rich nor much afraid of being poor. They seemed in no way fretted that + there were others higher in the social scale, cleverer or more brilliant + than they were. He understood that they were both of them religious in a + way quite different from any he had known. They neither spoke of + mysteries, like his father, nor were eager about disputings, like the men + who had been his fellow-students. They were living a very simple life, of + which faith and a wide charity formed a part as natural as eating or + sleeping. When the children’s bedtime came it seemed to him a very + wonderful thing that they should kneel in turns beside their father’s knee + and say their prayers aloud, when he, a stranger, was in the room. It + seemed to him less strange, because then he had been two hours longer in + the company of the Quinns, that before leaving he, too, should kneel + beside his hostess and listen while his new employer repeated the familiar + words of some of the old collects he had heard his father read in church. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + On Sunday, the third day after his arrival in Ballymoy, Hyacinth went to + church. He could hardly have avoided doing so, even if he had wanted to, + for Mrs. Quinn invited him to share her pew. There was no real necessity + for such hospitality, for the church was never, even under the most + favourable circumstances, more than half full. The four front seats were + reserved for a Mr. Stack, on whose property the town of Ballymoy stood. + But this gentleman preferred to live in Surrey, and even when he came over + to Ireland for the shooting rarely honoured the church with his presence. + A stone tablet, bearing the name of this magnate’s father, a Cork + pawnbroker, who had purchased the property for a small sum under the + Encumbered Estates Court Act, adorned the wall beside the pulpit. The + management of the property was in the hands of a Dublin firm, so the + parish was deprived of the privilege of a resident land agent. The doctor, + recently appointed to the district, was a Roman Catholic of plebeian + antecedents, which reduced the resident gentry of Ballymoy to the Quinns, + a bank manager, and the Rector, Canon Beecher. A few farmers, Mr. Stack’s + gamekeeper, and the landlady of the Imperial Hotel, made up the rest of + the congregation. + </p> + <p> + The service was not of a very attractive or inspiriting kind. Canon + Beecher—his title was a purely honorary one, not even involving the + duty of preaching in the unpretending building which, in virtue of some + forgotten history, was dignified with the name of Killinacoff Cathedral—read + slowly with somewhat ponderous emphasis. His thirty years in Holy Orders + had slightly hardened an originally luscious Dublin brogue, but there + remained a certain gentle aspiration of the <i>d’s</i> and <i>t’s</i>, and + a tendency to omit the labial consonants altogether. He read an immense + number of prayers, gathering, as it seemed to Hyacinth, the longest ones + from the four corners of the Prayer-Book. At intervals he allowed himself + to be interrupted with a hymn, but resumed afterwards the steady flow of + supplication. The eldest Miss Beecher—the Canon had altogether two + daughters and three sons—played a harmonium. The other girl and the + three boys, with the assistance of an uncertain bass from Mr. Quinn, gave + utterance to the congregation’s praise. Hyacinth tried to join in the + first hymn, which happened to be familiar to him, but quavered into + silence towards the end of the second verse, discovering that the eyes of + Mrs. Beecher from her pew, of the Canon from the reading-desk, of the + vocal Miss Beecher and her brothers, were fixed upon him. The sermon + proved to be long and uninteresting. It was about Melchizedek, and was so + far appropriate to the Priest and King that it had no recognisable + beginning and need not apparently have ever had an end. Perhaps no one, + unless he were specially trained for the purpose, could have followed + right through the quiet meanderings of the Canon’s thought. This kind of + sermon, however, has the one advantage that the listener can take it up + and drop it again at any point without inconvenience, and Hyacinth was + able to give his attention to some sections of it. There was no attempt at + eloquence or any kind of learning displayed, but he understood, as he + listened, where the Quinns got their religion, or at least how their + religion was kept alive. Certain very simple things were reiterated with a + quiet earnestness which left no doubt that the preacher believed exactly + what he said, and lived by the light of his faith. + </p> + <p> + One evening shortly afterwards Canon Beecher called upon Hyacinth. The + conversation during the visit resolved itself into a kind of catechism, + which, curiously enough, was quite inoffensive. The Canon learnt by + degrees something of Hyacinth’s past life, and his career in Trinity + College. He shook his head gravely over the friendship with Augusta Goold, + whom he evidently regarded as almost beyond the reach of the grace of God. + Hyacinth was forced to admit, with an increasing sense of shame, that he + had never signed a temperance pledge, did not read the organ of the Church + Missionary Society, was not a member of a Young Men’s Christian + Association, or even of a Gleaners’ Union. He felt, as he made each + confession sorrowfully, that he was losing all hope of the Canon’s + friendship, and was most agreeably surprised when the interview closed + with a warm invitation to a mid-day dinner at the Rectory on the following + Sunday. Mrs. Quinn, who took a sort of elder sister’s interest in his + goings out and comings in, was delighted when she heard that he was going + to the Rectory, and assured him that he would like both Mrs. Beecher and + the girls. She confided afterwards to her husband that the influence of a + Christian home was likely to be most beneficial to the ‘poor boy.’ + </p> + <p> + The Rectory displayed none of the signs of easy comfort which had charmed + Hyacinth in the Quinns’ house. The floor of the square hall was covered + with a cheap, well-worn oilcloth. Its walls were damp-stained, and the + only furniture consisted of a wooden chair and a somewhat rickety table. + In the middle of the wall hung a large olive-green card with silver + lettering. ‘Christ is the unseen Guest in this house,’ Hyacinth read, ‘the + Sharer in every pleasure, the Listener to every conversation.’ A fortnight + before, he would have turned with disgust from such an advertisement, but + now, since he had known the Quinns and listened to the Canon’s wandering + sermons, he looked at it with different eyes. He felt that the words might + actually express a fact, and that a family might live together as if they + believed them to be true. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said the Canon, who had come in with him, and saw him gaze at it, + ‘these motto-cards are very nice. I bought several of them last time I was + in Dublin, and I think I have a spare one left which I can give you if you + like. It has silver letters like that one, but printed on a crimson + ground.’ + </p> + <p> + Evidently the design and the colouring were what struck him as noticeable. + The motto itself was a commonplace of Christian living, the expression of + a basal fact, quite naturally hung where it would catch the eye of chance + visitors. + </p> + <p> + In the drawing-room Mrs. Beecher and her two daughters, still in their + hats and gloves, stood round a turf fire. They made a place at once for + Hyacinth, and one of the girls drew forward a rickety basket-work chair, + covered with faded cretonne. He was formally introduced to them. Miss + Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher had both, the latter very recently, reached + the dignity of young womanhood, and wore long dresses. The three boys, who + were younger, were made known afterwards. + </p> + <p> + When they went into the dining-room the Canon selected the soundest of a + miscellaneous collection of chairs for Hyacinth, and seated him beside + Mrs. Beecher. Then the elder girl—Miss Beecher’s name, he learnt, + was Marion—entered in a long apron carrying a boiled leg of mutton + followed by her sister with dishes of potatoes and mashed parsnips. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ said Mrs. Beecher, and there was no note of apology in her + voice as she made the explanation, ‘my girls are accustomed to do a good + deal of the house-work. We have only one servant, and she is not very + presentable when she has just cooked the dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth glanced at Marion Beecher, who smiled at him with frank + friendliness, as she took her seat beside her father. He saw suddenly that + the girl was beautiful. He had not noticed this in church. There he had no + opportunity of observing the subtle grace with which she moved, and the + half-light left unrevealed the lustrous purity of her complexion, the + radiant red and white which only the warm damp of the western seaboard can + give or preserve. Her eyes he had seen even in the church, but now first + he realized what unfathomable gentleness and what a wonder of frank + innocence were in them. The Canon looked round the table at his children, + and there was a humorous twinkle in his eye when he turned to Hyacinth and + quoted: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Your sons shall grow up as young plants, and your daughters shall be as + the polished corners of the temple.”’ + </p> + <p> + Perhaps nine-tenths of civilized mankind would regard five children as + five misfortunes under any circumstances, as quite overwhelming when they + have been showered on a man with a very small income, who is obliged to + live in a remote corner of Ireland. Apparently the Canon did not look upon + himself as an afflicted man at all. There was an unmistakable sincerity + about the way in which he completed his quotation: + </p> + <p> + ‘“Lo! thus shall the man be blessed that feareth the Lord.”’ + </p> + <p> + It dawned on Hyacinth that quite possibly the Canon’s view of the + situation might be the right one. It was certainly wonderfully pleasant to + see the girls move through the room, and it seemed to him that they + actually realized the almost forgotten ideal of serviceable womanhood. The + talk at dinner turned first on the ailments of an old woman who was + accustomed to clean the church, but was now suspected of being past her + work; then, by an abrupt transition, on the new hat which the + bank-manager’s wife had brought home from Dublin; and, finally, the + connection of thought being again far from obvious, on the hymns which had + been sung that morning. It was at this point that Hyacinth was included in + the conversation. Marion Beecher announced that one of the hymns was a + special favourite of hers, because she remembered her mother singing the + younger children to sleep with it when they were babies. She caught + Hyacinth looking at her while she spoke, and said to him: + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you sing, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do a little.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, then you must come and help us in the choir.’ ‘Choir’ seemed a + grandiose name for the four Beechers and Mr. Quinn, but Marion, who had + little experience of anything better, had no misgivings. ‘I hope you sing + tenor. I always long to have a tenor in my choir. Why, we might have one + of Barnby’s anthems at Easter, and we haven’t been able to sing one since + Mr. Nash left the bank.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had never sung a part in his life, and could not read music, but + he grew bold, and, professing to have an excellent ear, said he was + willing to learn. The prospect of a long series of choir practices + conducted by Marion Beecher seemed to him just then an extremely pleasant + one. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, while the two girls cleared away the plates and dishes, + Canon Beecher invited Hyacinth to smoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never learnt the habit myself,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t so much the fashion + in my young days as it is now, but I have no objection whatever to the + smell.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth lit a cigarette apologetically. It seemed to him almost a wicked + thing to do, but his host evidently wished him to be comfortable. Their + talk after the girls had left the room turned on politics. Hyacinth’s + confession of his friendship with Augusta Goold had impressed the Canon, + and he delivered himself of a very kindly little lecture on the duty of + loyalty and the sinfulness of contention with the powers that be. His way + of putting the matter neither irritated Hyacinth, like the flamboyant + Imperialism of the Trinity students, nor drove him into self-assertion, + like Dr. Henry’s contemptuous reasonableness. Still, he felt bound to make + some sort of defence of the opinions which were still his own. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ he said, ‘there must be some limit to the duty of loyalty. If a + Government has no constitutional right to rule, is a man bound to be loyal + to it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ said the Canon, ‘that the question is decided for us. Is it + not, Mr. Conneally? “Render unto Caesar”—you remember the verse. + Even if the Government were as unconstitutional as you appear to think, it + would not be more so than the Roman Government of Judaea when these words + were spoken.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth pondered this answer. It opened up to him an entirely new way of + looking at the subject, and he could see that it might be necessary for a + Christian to acquiesce without an attempt at resistance in any Government + which happened to exist. + </p> + <p> + He remembered other verses in the New Testament which could be quoted even + more conclusively in favour of this passive obedience. Yet he felt that + there must be a fallacy lurking somewhere. It was, on the face of it, an + obvious absurdity to think that a man, because he happened to be a + Christian, was therefore bound to submit to any form of tyranny or + oppression. + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose,’ he said—‘I only say suppose—that a Government did + immoral things, that it robbed or allowed evil-disposed people to rob, + would it still be right to be loyal?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so,’ said the Canon quietly. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at him in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean to say that you yourself would be loyal under such + circumstances?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I prefer not to discuss the question in that personal way, but the Church + to which you and I belong is loyal still, although the Government has + robbed us of our property and our position, and although it is now + allowing our people to be robbed still further.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean by the Disestablishment and the Land Acts?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. I think it is our great glory that our loyalty is imperishable, that + it survives even such treatment as we have received and are receiving.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very beautiful,’ said Hyacinth slowly. ‘I see that there is a + great nobility in such loyalty, although I do not even wish to share it + myself. You see, I am an Irishman, and I want to see my country great and + free.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose,’ said the Canon, ‘that it is very natural that we should love + the spot on earth in which we live. I think that I love Ireland too. But + we must remember that our citizenship is in heaven, and it seems to me + that any departure from the laws of the King of that country dishonours + us, and even dishonours the earthly country which we call our own.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth said nothing. There flashed across him a recollection of Augusta + Goold’s hope that some final insult would one day goad the Irish + Protestants into disloyalty. Clearly, if Canon Beecher was to be regarded + as a type, she had no conception of the religious spirit of the Church of + Ireland. But was there anyone else like this clergyman? He did not know, + but he guessed that his friends the Quinns would think of the matter in + somewhat the same way. It seemed to him quite possible that in scattered + and remote parishes this strangely unreasonable conception of Christianity + might survive. After a pause the Canon went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘You must not think that I do not love Ireland too. I look forward to + seeing her free some day, but with the freedom of the Gospel. It will not + be in my time, I know, but surely it will come to pass. Our people have + still the simple faith of the early ages, and they have many very + beautiful virtues. They only want the dawn of the Dayspring from on high + to shine on them, and then Ireland will be once more the Island of Saints—<i>insula + sanctorum</i>.’ He dwelt tenderly on the two words. ‘I do not think it + will matter much then what earthly Government bears rule over us. But + come, I see that you have finished your smoke, and I must go to my study + to think over my sermon.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth entered the drawing-room the girls surrounded him, asking + him for answers to a printed list of questions. It appeared that the + committee of a bazaar for some charity in which it was right to be + interested had issued a sort of examination-paper, and promised a prize to + the best answerer. The questions were all of one kind: ‘What is the Modern + Athens—the Eternal City—the City of the Tribes? Who was the + Wizard of the North—the Bulwark of the Protestant Faith? The earlier + names on the list presented little difficulty to Hyacinth. Marion took + down his answers, whilst Elsie murmured a pleasant chorus of astonishment + at his cleverness. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. ‘Who was the Martyr of + Melanesia?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have never heard of him,’ said Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never heard of the Martyr of Melanesia!’ said Elsie. ‘Why, we knew that + at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Marion, ‘there was an article on him in last month’s <i>Gleaner</i>. + Surely you read the <i>Gleaner</i>, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth felt Marion’s eyes fixed on him with something of a reproach in + them. He wrestled with a vague recollection of having somewhere heard the + name of the periodical. For a moment he thought of risking + cross-questioning, and saying that he had only missed the last number. + Then he suddenly remembered the card with silver lettering which hung + above his coat in the hall, and told the truth with even a quite + unnecessary aggravation. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I never remember seeing a copy of it in my life. I don’t even know + what it is about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said the girls, round-eyed with horror. ‘Just think! And we all have + collecting-boxes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a missionary periodical,’ said Marion. ‘It has news in it from + every corner of the mission-field, and every month a list of the stations + that specially need our prayers.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth left the Rectory that night with three well-read numbers of the + <i>Gleaner</i> in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards he had many talks with Canon Beecher and the Quinns about the + work of the missionary societies. He learnt, to his surprise, that really + immense sums of money were subscribed every year by members of the Church + of Ireland for the conversion of the heathen in very remote parts of the + world. It could not be denied that these contributions represented genuine + self-denial. Young men went without a sufficiency of tobacco, and + refrained from buying sorely-needed new tennis-racquets. Ladies, with the + smallest means at their command, reared marketable chickens, and sold + their own marmalade and cakes. In such ways, and not from the superfluity + of the rich, many thousands of pounds were gathered annually. It was still + more wonderful to him to discover that large numbers of young men and + women, and these the most able and energetic, devoted themselves to this + foreign service, and that their brothers and sisters at home were banded + together in unions to watch their doings and to pray for them. He found + himself entirely untouched by this enthusiasm, in spite of the beautiful + expression it found in the lives of his new friends. + </p> + <p> + But it astonished him greatly that there should be this potent energy in + the Irish Church. The utter helplessness of its Bishops and clergy in + Irish affairs, the total indifference of its people to every effort at + national regeneration, had led him to believe that the Church itself was + moribund. Now he discovered that there was in it an amazing vitality, a + capacity of giving birth to enthusiastic souls. The knowledge brought with + it first of all a feeling of intense irritation. It seemed to him that all + religions were in league against Ireland. The Roman Church seized the + scanty savings of one section of the people, and squandered them in buying + German glass and Italian marble. Were the Protestants any better, when + they spent £20,000 a year on Chinamen and negroes? The Roman Catholics + took the best of their boys and girls to make priests and nuns of them. + The Protestants were doing the same thing when they shipped off their + young men and young women to spend their strength among savages. Both were + robbing Ireland of what Ireland needed most—money and vitality. He + would not say, even to himself, that all this religious enthusiasm was so + much ardour wasted. No doubt the Roman priest did good work in Chicago, as + the Protestant missionary did in Uganda; only it seemed to him that of all + lands Ireland needed most the service and the prayers of those of her + children who had the capacity of self-forgetfulness. Afterwards, when he + thought more deeply, he found a great hope in the very existence of all + this altruistic enthusiasm. He had a vision of all that might be done for + Ireland if only the splendid energy of her own children could be used in + her service. He tried more than once to explain his point of view. Mr. + Quinn met him with blank disbelief in any possible future for Ireland. + </p> + <p> + ‘The country is doomed,’ he said. ‘The people are lazy, thriftless, and + priest-ridden. The best of them are flying to America, and those that + remain are dying away, drifting into lunatic asylums, hospitals, and + workhouses. There is a curse upon us. In another twenty years there will + be no Irish people—at least, none in Ireland. Then the English and + Scotch will come and make something of the country.’ + </p> + <p> + From Canon Beecher he met with scarcely more sympathy or understanding. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he admitted, ‘no doubt we ought to make more efforts than we do to + convert our fellow-countrymen. But it is very difficult to see how we are + to go to work. There is one society which exists for this purpose. Its + friends are full of the very kind of enthusiasm which you describe. I + could point you out plenty of its agents whose whole souls are in their + work, but you know as well as I do how completely they are failing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I do not in the least mean that we should start + more missions to Roman Catholics. It does not seem to me to matter much + what kind of religion a man professes, and I should be most unwilling to + uproot anyone’s belief. What we ought to do is throw our whole force and + energy into the work of regenerating Ireland. It is possible for us to do + this, and we ought to try.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well,’ said the Canon, ‘I must not let you make me argue with you, + Conneally; but I hope you won’t preach these doctrines of yours to my + daughters. I think it is better for them to drop their pennies into + missionary collecting-boxes, and leave the tangled problems of Irish + politics to those better able to understand them than we are.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + There are certain professions, in themselves honest, useful, and even + estimable, for which society has agreed to entertain a feeling of + contempt. It is, for instance, very difficult to think of a curate as + anything except a butt for satirists, or to be respectful to the + profession of tailoring, although many a man for private pecuniary reasons + is meek before the particular individual who makes his clothes. Yet the + novelist and the playwright, who hold the mirror up to modern humanity, + are occasionally kind even to curates and tailors. There is a youthful + athlete in Holy Orders who thrashes, to our immense admiration, the + village bully, bewildering his victim and his admirers with his mastery of + what is described a little vaguely as the ‘old Oxford science.’ Once, at + least, a glamour of romance has been shed over the son of a tailor, and it + becomes imaginable that even the chalker of unfinished coats may in the + future be posed as heroic. There is still, however, a profession which no + eccentric novelist has ever ventured to represent as other than entirely + contemptible. The commercial traveller is beneath satire, and outside the + region of sympathy. If he appears at all in fiction or on the stage, he is + irredeemably vulgar. He is never heroic, never even a villain, rarely + comic, always, poor man, objectionable. This is a peculiar thing in the + literature of a people like the English, who are not ashamed to glory in + their commercial success, and are always ready to cheer a politician who + professes to have the interests of trade at heart. Amid the current + eulogies of the working man and the apotheosis of the beings called + ‘Captains of Industry,’ the bagman surely ought to find at least an + apologist. Without him it seems likely that many articles would fail to + find a place in the windows of the provincial shopkeepers. Without him + large sections of the public would probably remain ignorant for years of + new brands of cigarettes, and dyspeptic people might never come across the + foods which Americans prepare for their use. + </p> + <p> + Also the individual bagman is often not without his charm. He knows, if + not courts and princes, at least hotels and railway companies. He is on + terms of easy familiarity with every ‘boots’ in several counties. He can + calculate to a nicety how long a train is likely to be delayed by a fair + ‘somewhere along the line.’ He is also full of information about local + politics. In Connaught, for instance, an experienced member of the + profession will gauge for you the exact strength of the existing League in + any district. He knows what publicans may be regarded as ‘priest’s men,’ + and who have leanings towards independence. His knowledge is frequently + minute, and he can prophesy the result of a District Council election by + reckoning up the number of leading men who read the <i>United Irishman</i>, + and weighing them against those who delight in the pages of the <i>Leader</i>. + The men who can do these things are themselves local. They reside in their + district, and, as a rule, push the sales and collect the debts of local + brewers and flour-merchants. The representatives of the larger English + firms only make their rounds twice or three times a year, and are less + interesting. They pay the penalty of being cosmopolitan, and tend to + become superficial in their judgment of men and things. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, like most members of the public, was ignorant of the greatness + and interest of his new profession. He entered upon it with some + misgiving, and viewed his trunk of sample blankets and shawls with + disgust. Even a new overcoat, though warm and weatherproof, afforded him + little joy, being itself a sample of Mr. Quinn’s frieze. One thought alone + cheered him, and even generated a little enthusiasm for his work. It + occurred to him that in selling the produce of the Ballymoy Mill he was + advancing the industrial revival of Ireland. He knew that other people, + quite heroic figures, were working for the same end. A Government Board + found joyous scope for the energies of its officials in giving advice to + people who wanted to cure fish or make lace. It earned the blessing which + is to rest upon those who are reviled and evil spoken of, for no one, + except literary people, who write for English magazines, ever had a good + word for it. There were also those—their activity took the form of + letters to the newspapers—who desired to utilize the artistic + capacity of the Celt, and to enrich the world with beautiful fabrics and + carpentry. They, too, were workers in the cause of the revival. Then there + were great ladies, the very cream of the Anglo-Irish aristocracy, who + petted tweeds and stockings, and offered magnificent prizes to industrious + cottagers. They earned quite large sums of money for their protégés by + holding sales in places like Belfast and Manchester, where titles can be + judiciously cheapened to a wealthy bourgeoisie, and the wives of + ship-builders and cotton-spinners will spend cheerfully in return for the + privilege of shaking hands with a Countess. A crowd of minor enthusiasts + fostered such industries as sprigging, and there was one man who believed + that the future prosperity of Ireland might be secured by teaching people + to make dolls. It was altogether a noble army, and even a commercial + traveller might hold his head high in the world if he counted himself one + of its soldiers. Hitherto results have not been at all commensurate with + the amount of printer’s ink expended in magazine articles and + advertisements. Yet something has been accomplished. Nunneries here and + there have been induced to accept presents of knitting-machines, and + people have begun to regard as somehow sacred the words ‘technical + education.’ The National Board of Education has also spent a large sum of + money in reviving among its teachers the almost forgotten art of making + paper boats. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth very soon discovered that his patriotic view of this work did not + commend itself to his brother travellers. He found that they had no + feeling but one of contempt for people whom they regarded as meddling + amateurs. Occasionally, when some convent, under a bustling Mother + Superior, advanced from the region of half-charitable sales at exhibitions + into the competition of the open market, contempt became dislike, and + wishes were expressed in quite unsuitable language that the good ladies + would mind their own proper business. Until Hyacinth learnt to conceal his + hopes of Ireland’s future as a manufacturing country he was regarded with + suspicion. No one, of course, objected to his making what use he could of + patriotism as an advertisement, but he was given to understand that, like + other advertisements, it could not be quoted among the initiated without a + serious breach of good manners. Even as an advertisement it was not rated + highly. + </p> + <p> + There was an elderly gentleman, stout and somewhat bibulous, who + superintended the consumption of certain brands of American cigarettes in + the province of Connaught. Hyacinth met him in the exceedingly dirty + Railway Hotel at Knock. Since there were no other guests, and the evening + was wet, the two were thrown upon each other’s society in the + commercial-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think,’ said Mr. Hollywell, in reply to a remark of Hyacinth’s, + ‘that there’s the least use trying to drag patriotic sentiment into + business. Of course, since you represent an Irish house—woollen + goods, I think you said—you’re quite right to run the fact for all + it’s worth. I don’t in the least blame you. Only I don’t think you’ll find + it pays.’ + </p> + <p> + He sipped his whisky-and-water—it was still early, and he had only + arrived at his third glass—and then proceeded to give his personal + experience. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I work for an American firm. If there was any force in the patriotic + idea I shouldn’t sell a single cigarette. My people are in the big tobacco + combine. You must have read the sort of things the newspapers wrote about + us when we started. From any point of view, British Imperial or Irish + National, we should have been boycotted long ago if patriotism had + anything to do with trade. But look at the facts. Our chief rivals in this + district are two Irish firms. They advertise in Gaelic, which is a mistake + to start with, because nobody can read it. They get the newspaper people + to write articles recommending a “great home industry” to public support. + They get local branches of all the different leagues to pass resolutions + pledging their members to smoke only Irish tobacco. But until quite lately + they simply didn’t have a look in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ asked Hyacinth. ‘Were your things cheaper or better?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the other, ‘I don’t think they were either. You see, prices are + bound to come out pretty even in the long run, and I should say that, if + anything, they sold a slightly better article. It’s hard to say exactly + why we beat them. When competition is really keen a lot of little things + that you would hardly notice make all the difference. For one thing, I get + a free hand in the matter of subscribing to local bazaars and + race-meetings. I’ve often taken as much as a pound’s worth of tickets for + a five-pound note that some priest was raffling in aid of a new chapel. + It’s wonderful the orders you can get from shopkeepers in that kind of + way. Then, we get our things up better. Look at that.’ + </p> + <p> + He handed Hyacinth a highly-glazed packet with a picture of a handsome + brown dog on it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep it,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I give away twenty or thirty of those + packets every week. Now look inside. What have you? Oh, H.M.S. <i>Majestic</i>. + That’s one of a series of photos of “Britain’s first line of defence.” + Lots of people go on buying those cigarettes just to get a complete + collection of the photos. We supply an album to keep them in for one and + sixpence. There’s another of our makes which has pictures of actresses and + pretty women. They are extraordinarily popular. They’re perfectly all + right, of course, from the moral point of view, but one in every ten is in + tights or sitting with her legs very much crossed, just to keep up the + expectation. It’s very queer the people who go for those photos. You’d + expect it to be young men, but it isn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + The subject was not particularly interesting to Hyacinth, but since his + companion was evidently anxious to go on talking, he asked the expected + question. + </p> + <p> + ‘Young women,’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘I found it out quite by accident. I + got a lot of complaints from one particular town that our cigarettes had + no photos with them. I discovered after a while that a girl in one of the + principal shops had hit on a dodge for getting out the photos without + apparently injuring the packets. The funny thing was that she never + touched the ironclads or the “Types of the soldiers of all nations,” which + you might have thought would interest her, but she collared every single + actress, and had duplicates of most of them. And she wasn’t an exception. + Most girls goad their young men to buy these cigarettes and make + collections of the photos. Queer, isn’t it? I can’t imagine why they do + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You said just now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that latterly you hadn’t done quite + so well. Did you run out of actresses and battleships?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; but one of the Irish firms took to offering prizes and enclosing + coupons. You collected twenty coupons, and you got a silver-backed + looking-glass—girls again, you see—or two thousand coupons, + and you got a new bicycle. It’s an old dodge, of course, but somehow it + always seems to pay. However, all this doesn’t matter to you. All I wanted + was to show you that there is no use relying on patriotism. The thing to + go in for in any business is attractive novelties, cheap lines, and, in + the country shops, long credit.’ + </p> + <p> + It was not very long before Hyacinth began to realize the soundness of Mr. + Hollywell’s contempt for patriotism. In the town of Clogher he found the + walls placarded with the advertisements of an ultra-patriotic draper. + ‘Féach Annseo,’ he read, ‘The Irish House. Support Home Manufactures.’ + Another placard was even more vehement in its appeal. ‘Why curse England,’ + it asked, ‘and support her manufacturers?’ Try O’Reilly, the one-price + man.’ The sentiments were so admirable that Hyacinth followed the advice + and tried O’Reilly. + </p> + <p> + The shop was crowded when he entered, for it was market day in Clogher. + The Irish country-people, whose manners otherwise are the best in the + world, have one really objectionable habit. In the street or in a crowded + building they push their way to the spot they want to reach, without the + smallest regard for the feelings of anyone who happens to be in the way. + Sturdy country-women, carrying baskets which doubled the passage room they + required, hustled Hyacinth into a corner, and for a time defeated his + efforts to emerge. Getting his case of samples safely between his legs, he + amused himself watching the patriot shopkeeper and his assistants + conducting their business. It was perfectly obvious that in one respect + the announcements of the attractive placard departed from the truth: + O’Reilly was not a ‘one-price man,’ He charged for every article what he + thought his customers were likely to pay. The result was that every sale + involved prolonged bargaining and heated argument. In most cases no harm + was done. The country-women were keenly alive to the value of their money, + and evidently enjoyed the process of beating down the price by halfpennies + until the real value of the article was reached. Then Mr. O’Reilly and his + assistants were accustomed to close the haggle with a beautiful formula: + </p> + <p> + ‘To <i>you</i>,’ they said, with confidential smiles and flattering + emphasis on the pronoun—‘to <i>you</i> the price will be one and a + penny; but, really, there will be no profit on the sale.’ + </p> + <p> + Occasionally with timid and inexperienced customers O’Reilly’s method + proved its value. Hyacinth saw him sell a dress-length of serge to a young + woman with a baby in her arms for a penny a yard more than he had charged + a moment before for the same material. Another thing which struck him as + he watched was the small amount of actual cash which was paid across the + counter. Most of the women, even those who seemed quite poor, had accounts + in the shop, and did not shrink from increasing them. Once or twice a + stranger presented some sort of a letter of introduction, and was at once + accommodated with apparently unlimited credit. + </p> + <p> + At length there was a lull in the business, and Hyacinth succeeded in + spreading his goods on a vacant counter, and attracting the attention of + Mr. O’Reilly. He began with shawls. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will give me a good order for these shawls.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly fingered them knowingly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Price?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth mentioned a sum which left a fair margin of profit for Mr. Quinn. + O’Reilly shook his head and laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth reduced his price at once as far as possible. + </p> + <p> + ‘No use,’ said Mr. O’Reilly. + </p> + <p> + Compared with the suave oratory to which he treated his customers, this + extreme economy of words was striking. + </p> + <p> + ‘See here,’ he said, producing a bundle of shawls from a shelf beside him. + ‘I get these for twenty-five shillings a dozen less from Thompson and + Taylor of Manchester.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at them curiously. Each bore a prominent label setting + forth a name for the garment in large letters surrounded with wreaths of + shamrocks. ‘The Colleen Bawn,’ he read, ‘Erin’s Own,’ ‘The Kathleen + Mavourneen,’ ‘The Cruiskeen Lawn.’ The appropriateness of this last title + was not obvious to the mere Irishman, but the colour of the garment was + green, so perhaps there was a connection of thought in the maker’s mind + between that and ‘Lawn.’ ‘Cruiskeen’ he may have taken for the name of a + place. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are these,’ asked Hyacinth, ‘what you advertise as Irish goods?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly cleared his throat twice before he replied. + </p> + <p> + ‘They are got up specially for the Irish market.’ In the interests of his + employer Hyacinth kept his temper, but the effort was a severe one. + </p> + <p> + ‘These,’ he said, ‘are half cotton. Mine are pure wool. They are really + far better value even if they were double the price.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t say they’re not, but I should not sell one of yours for every + dozen of the others.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Try,’ said Hyacinth; ‘give them a fair chance. Tell the people that they + will last twice as long. Tell them that they are made in Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That would not be the slightest use. They would simply laugh in my face. + My customers don’t care a pin where the goods are made. I have never in my + life been asked for Irish manufacture.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, why on earth do you stick up those advertisements?’ said Hyacinth, + pointing to the ‘Féach Annseo’ which appeared on a hoarding across the + street. + </p> + <p> + Mr. O’Reilly was perfectly frank and unashamed. + </p> + <p> + ‘The other drapery house in the town is owned by a Scotchman, and of + course it pays more or less to keep on saying that I am Irish. Besides, I + mean to stand for the Urban Council in March, and those sort of ads. are + useful at an election, even if they are no good for business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said Hyacinth, shirking a discussion on the + morality of advertising: ‘I’ll let you have a dozen shawls at cost price, + and take back what you can’t sell, if you give me your word to do your + best for them.’ + </p> + <p> + Similar discussions followed the display of serges and blankets. It + appeared that nice-looking goods could be sent over from England at lower + prices. It was vain for Hyacinth to press the fact that his things were + better. Mr. O’Reilly admitted as much. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what am I to do? The people don’t want what is good. They want a + cheap article which looks well, and they don’t care a pin whether the + thing is made in England, Ireland, or America. Take my advice,’ he added + as Hyacinth left the shop: ‘get your boss to do inferior lines—cheap, + cheap and showy.’ + </p> + <p> + So far Mr. Hollywell’s opinions were entirely justified. The appeal of the + patriotic press to the public and the shopkeepers on behalf of the + industrial revival of Ireland had certainly not affected the town of + Clogher. Hyacinth was bitterly disappointed; but hope, when it is born of + enthusiasm, dies hard, and he was greatly interested in a speech which he + read one day in the ‘Mayo Telegraph’. It had been made at a meeting of the + League by an Ardnaree shopkeeper called Dowling. A trade rival—the + fact of the rivalry was not emphasized—had advertised in a Scotch + paper for a milliner. Dowling was exceedingly indignant. He quoted + emigration statistics showing the number of girls who left Mayo every year + for the United States. He pointed out that all of them might be employed + at home, as milliners or otherwise, if only the public would boycott shops + which sold English goods or employed Scotch milliners. He more than + suspected that the obnoxious advertisement was part of an organized + attempt to effect a new plantation of Connaught—‘worse than + Cromwell’s was.’ The fact that Connaught was the only part of Ireland + which Cromwell did not propose to plant escaped the notice of both Mr. + Dowling and his audience. The speech concluded with a passionate + peroration and a verse, no doubt declaimed soundingly, of ‘The West’s + Awake.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made an expedition to Ardnaree, and called hopefully on the + orator. His reception was depressing in the extreme. The shop, which was + large and imposing, was stocked with goods which were obviously English, + and Mr. Dowling curtly refused even to look at the samples of Mr. Quinn’s + manufactures. Hyacinth quoted his own speech to the man, and was amazed at + the cynical indifference with which he ignored the dilemma. + </p> + <p> + ‘Business is one thing,’ he said, ‘and politics is something entirely + different.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth lost his temper completely. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall write to the papers,’ he said, ‘and expose you. I shall have your + speech reprinted, and along with it an account of the way you conduct your + business.’ + </p> + <p> + A mean, hard smile crossed Mr. Dowling’s mouth before he answered: + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you don’t know that my wife is the Archbishop’s niece?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth stared at him. For a minute or two he entirely failed to + understand what Mrs. Dowling’s relationship to a great ecclesiastic had to + do with the question. At last a light broke on him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean that an editor wouldn’t print my letter because he would be + afraid of offending a Roman Catholic Archbishop?’ + </p> + <p> + The expression ‘Roman Catholic’ caught Mr. Dowling’s attention. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you a Protestant?’ he asked. ‘You are—a dirty Protestant—and + you dare to come here into my own house, and insult me and trample on my + religious convictions. I’m a Catholic and a member of the League. What do + you mean, you Souper, you Sour-face, by talking to me about Irish + manufactures? Get out of this house, and go to the hell that’s waiting for + you!’ + </p> + <p> + As Hyacinth turned to go, there flashed across his mind the recollection + of Miss Goold and her friends who wrote for the <i>Croppy</i>. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s one paper in Ireland, anyhow,’ he said, ‘which is not afraid of + your wife nor your Archbishop. I’ll write to the <i>Croppy</i>, and you’ll + see if they won’t publish the facts.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dowling grinned. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care if they do,’ he said. ‘The priests are dead against the <i>Croppy</i>, + and there’s hardly a man in the town reads it. Go up there now to Hely’s + and try if you can buy a copy. I tell you it isn’t on sale here at all, + and whatever they publish will do me no harm.’ + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth returned to the hotel he found Mr. Holywell seated, with the + inevitable whisky-and-water beside him, in the commercial-room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Mr. Conneally,’ he said, ‘and how is patriotism paying you? Find + people ready to buy what’s Irish?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, boiling over with indignation, related his experience with Mr. + Dowling. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did I tell you?’ said Mr. Hollywell. ‘But anyhow you’re just as well + out of a deal with that fellow. I wouldn’t care to do business with him + myself. I happen to know, and you may take my word for it’ —his + voice sunk to a confidential whisper—‘that he’s very deep in the + books of two English firms, and that he daren’t—simply daren’t—place + an order with anyone else. They’d have him in the Bankruptcy Court + to-morrow if he did. I shouldn’t feel easy with Mr. Dowling’s cheque for + an account until I saw how the clerk took it across the bank counter. You + mark my words, there’ll be a fire in that establishment before the year’s + out.’ + </p> + <p> + The prophecy was fulfilled, as Hyacinth learnt from the <i>Mayo Telegraphy</i> + and Mr. Dowling’s whole stock of goods was consumed. There were rumours + that a sceptical insurance company made difficulties about paying the + compensation demanded; but the inhabitants of Ardnaree marked their + confidence in the husband of an Archbishop’s niece by presenting him with + an address of sympathy and a purse containing ten sovereigns. + </p> + <p> + Most of Hyacinth’s business was done with small shopkeepers in remote + districts. The country-people who lived out of reach of such centres of + fashion as Ardnaree and Clogher were sufficiently unsophisticated to + prefer things which were really good. Hats and bonnets were not quite + universal among the women in the mountain districts far back where they + spoke Irish, and Mr. Quinn’s head-kerchiefs were still in request. Even + the younger women wanted garments which would keep them warm and dry, and + Hyacinth often returned well satisfied from a tour of the country shops. + Sometimes he doubted whether he ought to trust the people with more than a + few pounds’ worth of goods, but he gradually learnt that, unlike the + patriotic Mr. Dowling, they were universally honest. He discovered, too, + that these people, with their imperfect English and little knowledge of + the world, were exceedingly shrewd. They had very little real confidence + in oratorical politicians, and their interest in public affairs went no + further than voting consistently for the man their priest recommended. But + they quickly understood Hyacinth’s arguments when he told them that the + support of Irish manufactures would help to save their sons and daughters + from the curse of emigration. + </p> + <p> + ‘Faith, sir,’ said a shopkeeper who kept a few blankets and tweeds among + his flour-sacks and porter-barrels, ‘since you were talking to the boys + last month, I couldn’t induce one of them to take the foreign stuff if I + was to offer him a shilling along with it.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + When he returned to Ballymoy after his interview with Mr. Dowling, + Hyacinth set himself to fulfil his threat of writing to the <i>Croppy</i>. + He spent Saturday afternoon and evening in his lodgings with the paper + containing the blatant speech spread out before him. He blew his anger to + a white heat by going over the evidence of the man’s grotesque hypocrisy. + He wrote and rewrote his article. It was his first attempt at expressing + thought on paper since the days when he sought to satisfy examiners with + disquisitions on Dryden’s dramatic talent and other topics suited to the + undergraduate mind. This was a different business. It was no longer a + question of filling a sheet of foolscap with grammatical sentences, + discovering synonyms for words hard to spell. Now thoughts were hot in + him, and the art lay in finding words which would blister and scorch. Time + after time he tore up a page of bombast or erased ridiculous + flamboyancies. Late at night, with a burning head and ice-cold feet, he + made his last copy, folded it up, and, distrusting the cooler criticism of + the morning, went out and posted it to the <i>Croppy</i>. + </p> + <p> + A letter from Miss Goold overtook him the following Thursday in the hotel + at Clogher. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was delighted to hear from you again,’ she wrote. ‘I was afraid you had + cut me altogether, gone over to the respectable people, and forgotten poor + Ireland. Captain Quinn told me that you and he had quarrelled, and I + gathered that you rather disapproved of him. Well, he was a bit of a + blackguard; but, after all, one doesn’t expect a man who takes on a job of + that kind to be anything else. I never thought it would suit you, and you + will do me the justice of remembering that I never wanted you to + volunteer. Now about your article. It was admirable. These “Cheap + Patriots”’—it was thus the article was headed—‘are just the + creatures we want to scarify. Dowling and his kind are the worst enemies + Ireland has to-day. We’ll publish anything of that kind you send us, and + remember we’re not the least afraid of anybody. It’s a grand thing for a + paper to be as impecunious as the <i>Croppy</i>. No man but a fool would + take a libel action against us with any hope of getting damages. A jury + might value Dowling’s character at any fantastic sum they chose, but it + would be a poor penny the <i>Croppy</i> would pay. Still, we’re not so + hard up that we can’t give our contributors something, and next week + you’ll get a small cheque from the office. I hope it may encourage you to + send us more. Don’t be afraid to speak out. If anything peculiarly + seditious occurs to you, write it in Irish. I know it’s all the same to + you which language you write in. Do us half a column every fortnight or so + on Western life and politics.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was absurdly elated by Miss Goold’s praise. He made up his mind + to contribute regularly to the <i>Croppy</i>, and had visions of a great + future as a journalist, or perhaps a literary exponent of the ideas of + Independent Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, he became very intimate both with the Quinns and with Canon + Beecher’s family. Mrs. Quinn was an enthusiastic gardener, and early in + the spring Hyacinth helped her with her flowerbeds. He learnt to plait the + foliage of faded crocuses, and pin them tidily to the ground with little + wooden forks. He gathered suitable earth for the boxes in which begonias + made their earliest sproutings, and learned to know the daffodils and + tulips by their names. Later on he helped Mr. Quinn to mow the grass and + mix a potent weed-killer for the gravel walks. There came to be an + understanding that, whenever he was not absent on a journey, he spent the + latter part of the afternoon and the evening with the Quinns. As the days + lengthened the family tea was pushed back to later and later hours to give + more time out of doors. + </p> + <p> + There is something about the very occupation of gardening which is + deadening to enthusiasm. Perhaps a man learns patience by familiarity with + growing plants. Nature is never in a hurry in a garden, and there is no + use in trying to hustle a flower, whereas a great impatience is the very + life-spirit of enthusiastic patriotism. There has probably never been a + revolutionary gardener, or even a strong Radical who worked with open-air + flowers. Of course, in greenhouses things can be forced, and the spirit of + the ardent reformer may find expression in the nurture of premature + blooms. Perhaps also the constant stooping which gardening necessitates, + especially in the early spring, when the weeds grow plentifully, tends to + destroy the stiff mental independence which must be the attitude of the + militant patriot. It is very difficult for a man who has stooped long + enough to have conquered his early cramps and aches to face the problems + of politics with uncompromising rigidity. Hyacinth recognised with a + curious qualm of disgust that his thoughts turned less and less to + Ireland’s wrongs and Ireland’s future as he learnt to care for the flowers + and the grass. + </p> + <p> + No doubt, too, the atmosphere of the Quinns’ family life was not congenial + to the spirit of the Irish politician. Mrs. Quinn was totally uninterested + in politics, and except a prejudice in favour of what she called loyalty, + had absolutely no views on any question which did not directly affect her + home and her children. Mr. Quinn had a coldly-reasonable political and + economic creed, which acted on the luxuriant fancies of Hyacinth’s + enthusiasm as his weed-killer did on the tender green of the paths. He + declined altogether to see any good in supporting Irish manufactures + simply because they were Irish. The story of O’Reilly’s attitude towards + his shawls moved him to no indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think he’s perfectly right,’ he said. ‘If a man can buy cheap shawls in + England he would be a fool to pay more for Irish ones. Business can’t be + run on those lines. I’m not an object of charity, and if I can’t meet fair + competition I must go under, and it’s right that I should go under.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had no answer to give. He shirked the point at issue, and + attacked Mr. Quinn along another line in the hope of arousing his + indignation. + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is not fair competition that you are called upon to face. Do you + call it fair competition when the Government subsidizes a woollen factory + in a convent?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you are thinking of the four thousand pounds the + Congested Districts Board gave to the convent at Bobeen. But it is hardly + fair to hold the Government responsible for the way that body wastes + eighty thousand pounds a year.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Government is ultimately responsible, and you must admit that, after + such a gift, and in view of the others which will certainly follow, you + are called upon to meet most unfair competition.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I admit that. But isn’t that exactly what you want to make general? + There doesn’t seem to me any difference between giving a bounty to one + industry and imposing a protective tariff in favour of another; and if + your preference for Irish manufactures means anything, it means a sort of + voluntary protection for every business in the country. If you object to + the Robeen business being subsidized you can’t logically try to insist on + mine being protected.’ + </p> + <p> + It was puzzling to have the tables turned on him so adroitly. Hyacinth was + reduced to feeble threat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just wait a while till the nuns get another four thousand pounds, and + perhaps four thousand pounds more after that, and see how it will affect + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Quinn smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not much afraid of nuns as trade competitors, or, for the matter of + that, of the Congested Districts Board either. If the Yorkshire people + would only import a few Mother Superiors to manage their factories, and + take the advice of members of our Board in their affairs, I would + cheerfully make them a present of any reasonable subsidy, and beat them + out of the market afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + There was another influence at work on Hyacinth’s mind which had as much + to do with the decay of his patriotism as either the gardening or Mr. + Quinn’s logic. Marion Beecher and her sister were very frequently at the + Mill House during the spring and summer. There was one long afternoon + which was spent in the marking out of the tennis-ground. Mr. Quinn had + theories involving calculations with a pencil and pieces of paper about + the surest method of securing right angles at the corners and parallel + lines down the sides of the court. Hyacinth and Marion worked obediently + with a tape measure and the garden line. One of the boys messed cheerfully + with a pail of liquid whitening. Afterwards the gardening was somewhat + deserted, and Hyacinth was instructed in the game. It took him a long time + to learn, and for many afternoons he and Marion were regularly beaten, but + she would not give up hope of him. Often the excuse of her coming to the + Quinns was the necessity of practising some new hymn or chant for Sunday. + Hyacinth worked as hard at the music as at the tennis under her tuition, + and there came a time when he could sing an easy tenor part with fair + accuracy. Then in the early summer, when the evenings were warm, hymns + were sung on the lawn in front of the house. There seemed no incongruity + in Marion Beecher’s company in passing without a break from lawn-tennis to + hymn-singing, and Mr. Quinn was always ready to do his best at the bass + with a serious simplicity, as if it were a perfectly natural and usual + thing to close an afternoon’s amusement with ‘Rock of Ages.’ Hyacinth was + not conscious of any definite change in his attitude towards religion. He + still believed himself to be somehow outside the inner shrine of the life + which the Beechers and the Quinns lived, just as he had been outside his + father’s prayers. But he found it increasingly difficult after an hour or + two of companionship with Marion Beecher to get back to the emotions which + had swayed him during the weeks of his intimacy with Miss Goold. To write + for the <i>Croppy</i> after sitting beside Marion in church on Sunday + evenings was like passing suddenly from a quiet wood into a heated saloon + where people wrangled. A wave of the old passionate feeling, when it + returned, affected him as raw spirit would the palate of a boy. + </p> + <p> + One day early in summer—the short summer of Connaught, which is + glorious in June, and dissolves into windy mist and warm rain in the + middle of July—Hyacinth was invited by Canon Beecher to join a + boating party on the lake. The river, whose one useful function was the + turning of Mr. Quinn’s millwheel, wound away afterwards through marshy + fields and groves of willow-trees into the great lake. At its mouth the + Beechers kept their boat, a cumbrous craft, very heavy to row, but safe + and suited to carry a family in comfort. The party started early—Canon + Beecher, Hyacinth, and one of the boys very early, for they had to walk + the two miles which separated Ballymoy from the lake shore. Mrs. Beecher, + the girls, the two other boys, and the baskets of provisions followed a + little later on the Rectory car, packed beyond all possibility of comfort. + The Canon himself pulled an oar untiringly, but without the faintest + semblance of style, and the party rippled with joy when they discovered + that Hyacinth also could row. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Elsie, ‘we can go anywhere. We can go on rowing and rowing all + day, and see places we’ve never seen before.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear girl,’ said her mother, ‘remember that Mr. Conneally and your + father aren’t machines. You mustn’t expect them to go too far.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, but,’ said Elsie, ‘father says he never gets tired if he has only one + oar to pull.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon was preparing for his toil. The old coat, in colour now almost + olive green, was folded and used as a cushion by Marion in the bow. His + white cuffs, stowed inside his hat, were committed to the care of Mrs. + Beecher. He rolled his gray shirtsleeves up to the elbow, and unbuttoned + his waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I’m ready. If I’m not hurried, I’ll pull along all day. + But what about you, Conneally? You’re not accustomed to this sort of + thing?’ + </p> + <p> + But Hyacinth for once was self-confident. He might be a poor singer and a + contemptible tennis player, but he knew that nothing which had to do with + boats could come amiss to him. He looked across the sparkling water of the + lake. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll go on as long as you like. You won’t tire me when there’s no tide + and no waves. This is a very different business from getting out the + sweeps to pull a nobby five miles against the strength of the ebb, with a + heavy ground swell running.’ + </p> + <p> + About eleven o’clock they landed on an island and ate biscuits. The Canon + told Hyacinth the story of the ruin under whose walls they sat. + </p> + <p> + ‘It belonged to the Lynotts, the Welshmen of Tyrawley. They were at feud + with the Burkes, and one night in winter——’ + </p> + <p> + The girls wandered away, carrying their biscuits with them. It is likely + that they had heard the story every summer as long as they could remember. + Mrs. Beecher alone still maintained an attitude of admiration for her + husband’s antiquarian knowledge, the more creditable because she must have + been familiar with the onset of the MacWilliam Burkes before even Marion + was old enough to listen. To Hyacinth the story was both new and + interesting. It stirred him to think of the Lynotts fighting hopelessly, + or begging mercy in the darkness and the cold just where he sat now + saturate with sunlight and with life. He gazed across the mile of shining + water which separated the castle from the land, and tried to realize how + the Irish servant-girl swam from the island with an infant Lynott on her + back, and saved the name from perishing. How the snow must have beaten in + her face and the lake-waves choked her breath! It was a great story, but + the girls, shouting from the water’s edge, reminded him that he was out to + pull an oar, and not to sentimentalize. He and the Canon rose, half + smiling, half sighing, and took their places in the boat. + </p> + <p> + They penetrated before luncheon time to a bay hitherto unknown to the + Beechers. A chorus of delight greeted its discovery. The water shone + bright green and very clear above the slabs of white limestone. The shore + far inland was almost verdure-less. Broad flat rocks lay baking in the + sunshine, and only the scantiest grass struggled up between their edges. + Sometimes they overlapped each other, and rose like an immense staircase. + Fifty yards or so from the land was a tiny island entirely overgrown with + stunted bushes. The boat was pushed up to it and a landing-place sought, + but the shrubs were too thick, and it was decided to picnic among the + rocks on the land. Then Marion in the bow made a discovery. A causeway + about a foot under water led from the island to the shore. The whole party + leaned over to examine it. Every stone was visible in the clear water, and + it was obvious that it had been planned and built, and was no merely + accidental formation of the rocks. The Canon had heard of a similar device + resorted to by an island hermit to insure the privacy of his cell. + Hyacinth spoke vaguely of the settlements of primitive communities of + lake-dwellers. The three boys planned an expedition across the causeway + after luncheon. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll carry our shoes and stockings with us,’ they said, ‘and then + explore the island. Perhaps there is a hermit there still, or a primitive + lake-dweller. What is a primitive lake-dweller, Mr. Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was uncertain, but hazarded a suggestion that the lake-dwellers + were the people who buried each other in raths. The Canon, whose + archaeology did not go back beyond St. Patrick, offered no correction. + </p> + <p> + Tea was made later on in yet another bay, this time on the eastern shore + of the lake. An oak wood grew down almost to the water’s edge, and the + branches overhung a sandy beach, more golden than any sea-strand. The + whole party collected dead wood and broken twigs for the fire. Then, while + the girls unpacked the baskets and secured the kettle amidst the smoke, + Hyacinth lay back luxuriously and watched the sun set behind the + round-shouldered mountain opposite. The long, steep slope shone bright + green while the sun still rested in view above the summit; then suddenly, + when the topmost rim of it had dipped out of sight, the whole mountainside + turned purple, and a glory of gold and crimson hung above it on the + motionless streaks of cloud. Slowly the splendour faded, the purple turned + gray, and a faint breeze fluttered across the lake. + </p> + <p> + The day was the first of many which Hyacinth gave to such expeditions. The + work of Mr. Quinn’s office was not so pressing as to necessitate his + spending every day there when he was in Ballymoy, and a holiday was always + obtainable. The lake scenery remained vivid in his memory in after-years, + and had its influence upon him even while he enjoyed it, unconscious of + anything except the present pleasure. There was something besides the + innocent gaiety of the girls and the simple sincerity of the Canon’s + platitudes, something about the lake itself, which removed him to a + spiritual region utterly remote from the fiery atmosphere of Miss Goold’s + patriotism. Many things which once loomed very large before him sank to + insignificance as he drank to the full of the desolation around him. The + past, in which no doubt men strove and hoped, hated and loved and feared, + had left the just recognisable ruins of some castles and the causeway + built by an unknown hermit or the prehistoric lake-dwellers. A few + thatched cabins, faintly smoking, and here and there a cairn of stones + gathered laboriously off the wretched fields, were the evidences of + present activity. Now and then a man hooted to his dog as it barked at the + sheep on the hillside, or a girl drove a turf-laden donkey inland from the + boggy shore. Otherwise there were no signs of human life. A deep sense of + monotony and inevitableness settled down upon Hyacinth. He came for the + first time under the great enchantment which paralyzes the spirit and + energy of the Celt. He knew himself to be, as his people were, capable of + spasms of enthusiasm, the victim of transitory burnings of soul. But the + curse was upon him—the inevitable curse of feeling too keenly and + seeing too clearly to be strenuous and constant. The flame would die down, + the enthusiasm would vanish—it was vanishing from him, as he knew + well—and leave him, not indeed content with common life, but patient + of it, and to the very end sad with the sense of possibilities unrealized. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was not without many struggles and periods of return to the older + emotions that Hyacinth surrendered his enthusiasm. There still recurred to + him memories of his father’s vision of an Armageddon and the conception of + his own part in it. Sometimes, waking very early in the morning, he became + vividly conscious of his own feebleness of will and his falling away from + great purposes. The conviction that he was called to struggle for + Ireland’s welfare, to sacrifice, if necessary, his life and happiness for + Ireland, was strong in him still. He felt himself affected profoundly by + the influences which surrounded him, but he had not ceased to believe that + the idea of self-sacrificing labour was for him a high vocation. He + writhed, his limbs twisting involuntarily, when these thoughts beset him, + and often he was surprised to discover that he was actually uttering aloud + words of self-reproach. + </p> + <p> + Then he would write fiercely, brutally, catch at the excuse of some + hypocrisy or corruption, or else denounce selfishness and easy-going + patriotic sentiment, finding subject for his satire in himself. His + articles brought him letters of praise from Miss Goold. ‘You have it,’ she + wrote once, ‘the thing we all seek for, the power of beating red-hot + thought into sword-blades. Write more like the last.’ But the praise + always came late. The violent mood, the self-reproach, the bitterness, + were past. His life was wrapt round again with softer influences, and he + read his own words with shame when they reached him in print. Afterwards + for a while, if he wrote at all, it was of the peasant life, of quaint + customs, half-forgotten legends and folklore. These articles appeared too, + but brought no praise from Miss Goold. Once she reproached him when he + lapsed into gentleness for many consecutive weeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘You oughtn’t to waste yourself. There are fifty men and women can do the + sort of thing you’re doing now; we don’t want you to take it up. It’s + fighting men we need, not maundering sentimentalists.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + It was during the second year of Hyacinth’s residence in Ballymoy that the + station-master at Clogher died. The poor man caught a cold one February + night while waiting for a train which had broken down three miles outside + his station. From the cold came first pneumonia, and then the end. Now, + far to the east of Clogher, on a different branch of the railway-line, is + a town with which the people of Mayo have no connection whatever. In it is + a very flourishing Masonic lodge. Almost every male Protestant in the town + and the neighbourhood belongs to it, and the Rector of the parish is its + chaplain. Among its members at that time was an intelligent young man who + occupied the position of goods clerk on the railway. The Masonic brethren, + as in duty bound, used their influence to secure his promotion, and + brought considerable pressure to bear on the directors of the company to + have him made station-master at Clogher. + </p> + <p> + It is said with some appearance of truth that no appointment in Ireland is + ever made on account of the fitness of the candidate for the post to be + filled. Whether the Lord Lieutenant has to nominate a Local Government + Board Inspector, or an Urban Council has to select a street scavenger, the + principle acted on is the same. No investigation is made about the ability + or character of a candidate. Questions may be asked about his political + opinions, his religious creed, and sometimes about the social position of + his wife, but no one cares in the least about his ability. The matter + really turns upon the amount of influence which he can bring to bear. So + it happened that John Crawford, Freemason and Protestant, was appointed + station-master at Clogher. Of course, nobody really cared who got the post + except a few seniors of John Crawford’s, who wanted it for themselves. + Probably even they would have stopped grumbling after a month or two if it + had not happened that a leading weekly newspaper, then at the height of + its popularity and influence, was just inaugurating a crusade against + Protestants and Freemasons. The case of John Crawford became the subject + of a series of bitter and vehement articles. It was pointed out that + although Roman Catholics were beyond all question more intelligent, better + educated, and more upright than Protestants, they were condemned by the + intolerance of highly-paid officials to remain hewers of wood and drawers + of water. It was shown by figures which admitted of no controversy that + Irish railways, banks, and trading companies were, without exception, on + the verge of bankruptcy, entirely owing to the apathy of shareholders who + allowed their interests to be sacrificed to the bigotry of directors. It + was urged that a public meeting should be held at Clogher to protest + against the new appointment. + </p> + <p> + The meeting was convened, and Father Fahey consented to occupy the chair. + He was supported by a dispensary doctor, anxious to propitiate the Board + of Guardians with a view to obtaining a summer holiday; a leading + publican, who had a son at Maynooth; a grazier, who dreaded the possible + partition of his ranch by the Congested Districts Board; and Mr. O’Reilly, + who saw a hope of drawing custom from the counter of his rival draper, the + Scotchman. + </p> + <p> + Father Fahey opened the proceedings with a speech. He assured his audience + that he was not actuated by any spirit of religious bigotry or + intolerance. He wished well to his Protestant fellow-countrymen, and hoped + that in the bright future which lay before Ireland men of all creeds would + be united in working for the common good of their country. These + sentiments were not received with vociferous applause. The audience was + perfectly well aware that something much more to the point was coming, and + reserved their cheers. Father Fahey did not disappoint them. He proceeded + to show that the appointment of the new station-master was a deliberate + insult to the faith of the inhabitants of Clogher. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are we,’ he asked, ‘to submit tamely to having the worst evils of the old + ascendancy revived in our midst?’ + </p> + <p> + He was followed by the dispensary doctor, who also began by declaring his + freedom from bigotry. He confused the issue slightly by complaining that + the new station-master was entirely ignorant of the Irish language. It was + perfectly well known that in private life the doctor was in the habit of + expressing the greatest contempt for the Gaelic League, and that he could + not, if his life depended on it, have translated even Mr. O’Reilly’s + advertisements; but his speech was greeted with tumultuous cheers. He + proceeded to harrow the feelings of his audience by describing what he had + heard at the railway-station one evening while waiting for the train. As + he paced the platform his attention was attracted by the sound of a piano + in the station-master’s house. He listened, and, to his amazement and + disgust, heard the tune of a popular song, ‘a song’—he brought down + his fist on the table as he uttered the awful indictment—‘imported + from England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ask,’ he went on—‘I ask our venerated and beloved parish priest; + I ask you, fathers of innocent families; I ask every right-thinking + patriot in this room, are our ears to be insulted, our morals corrupted, + our intellects depraved, by sounds like these?’ + </p> + <p> + He closed his speech by proposing a resolution requiring the railway + company to withdraw the obnoxious official from their midst. + </p> + <p> + The oratory of the grazier, who seconded the resolution, was not inferior. + It filled his heart with a sense of shame, so he said, to think of his + cattle, poor, innocent beasts of the field, being handled by a Protestant. + They had been bred, these bullocks of his, by Catholics, fed by Catholics, + were owned by a Catholic, bought with Catholic money at the fairs, and yet + they were told that in all Ireland no Catholic could be discovered fit to + put them into a train. + </p> + <p> + Neither the resolution itself nor the heart-rending appeal of the grazier + produced the slightest effect on the railway company. John Crawford + continued to sell tickets, even to Father Fahey himself, and appeared + entirely unconcerned by the fuss. + </p> + <p> + About a fortnight after the meeting Hyacinth spent a night in Clogher. Mr. + Holywell, the cigarette man, happened to be in the hotel, and, as usual, + got through a good deal of desultory conversation while he drank his + whisky-and-water. Quite unexpectedly, and apropos of nothing that had been + said, he plumped out the question: + </p> + <p> + ‘What religion are you, Conneally?’ + </p> + <p> + The inquiry was such an unusual one, and came so strangely from Mr. + Holywell, who had always seemed a Gallio in matters spiritual, that + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a Baptist myself,’ he went on, apparently with a view to palliating + his inquisitiveness by a show of candour. ‘I find it a very convenient + sort of religion in Connaught. There isn’t a single place of worship + belonging to my denomination in the whole province, so I’m always able to + get my Sundays to myself. I don’t want to convert you to anything or to + argue with you, but I have a fancy that you are a Church of Ireland + Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth admitted the correctness of the guess, and wondered what was + coming next. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ever spend a Sunday here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I always get back home for the end of the week if + I can.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Well, do you know, if I were you, I should spend next Sunday here, + and go to Mass.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall not do anything of the sort.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s your own affair, of course; only I just think I should do it + if I were you. Good-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a minute,’ said Hyacinth. ‘I want to know what you mean.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Holywell sat down again heavily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Been round your customers here lately?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. I only arrived this evening, and have done nothing yet. I mean to go + round them to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may just as well go home by the early train for all the good you’ll + do.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth restrained himself with an effort. He reflected that he was more + likely to get at the meaning of these mysterious warnings if he refrained + from direct questioning. After a minute of two of silence Mr. Hollywell + went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘They had a meeting here a little while ago about the appointment of a + Protestant station-master. They didn’t take much by it so far as the + railway company is concerned, but I happen to know that word has gone + round that every shopkeeper in the town is to order his goods as far as + possible from Catholics. Now, everybody knows your boss is a Protestant, + but the people are a little uncertain about you. They’ve never seen you at + Mass, which is suspicious, but, on the other hand, the way you gas on + about Irish manufactures makes them think you can’t be a Protestant. The + proper thing for you to do is to lie low till you’ve put in an appearance + at Mass, and then go round and try for orders.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the kind of thing,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that I couldn’t do if I had no + religion at all; but it happens that I have convictions of a sort, and I + don’t mean to go against them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, well, as I said before, it’s your own affair; only better Protestants + than you have done as much. Why, I do it myself constantly, and everyone + knows that a Baptist is the strongest kind of Protestant there is.’ + </p> + <p> + This reasoning, curiously enough, proved unconvincing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t believe,’ said Hyacinth, ‘that a religious boycott of the kind is + possible. People won’t be such fools as to act clean against their own + interests. Considering that nine-tenths of the drapery goods in the + country come from England and are sold by Protestant travellers, I don’t + see how the shopkeepers could act as you say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, of course they won’t act against their own interests. I’ve never come + across a religion yet that made men do that. They won’t attempt to boycott + the English firms, because, as you say, they couldn’t; but they can + boycott you. Everything your boss makes is turned out just as well and + just as cheap, or cheaper, by the nuns at Robeen. Perhaps you didn’t know + that these holy ladies have hired a traveller. Well, they have, and he’s a + middling smart man, too—quite smart enough to play the trumps that + are put into his hand; and he’s got a fine flush of them now. What with + the way that wretched rag of a paper, which started all the fuss, goes on + rampaging, and the amount of feeling that’s got up over the + station-master, the peaceablest people in the place would be afraid to + deal with a Protestant at the present moment. The Robeen man has the game + in his own hands, and I’m bound to say he’d be a fool if he didn’t play it + for all it’s worth. I’d do it myself if I was in his shoes.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth discovered next day that Mr. Holywell had summed up the situation + very accurately. No point-blank questions were asked about his religion, + but he could by no means persuade his customers to give him even a small + order. Every shop-window was filled with goods placarded ostentatiously as + ‘made in Robeen.’ Every counter had tweeds, blankets, and flannels from + the same factory. No one was in the least uncivil to him, and no one + assigned any plausible reason for refusing to deal with him. He was simply + bowed out as quickly as possible from every shop he entered. + </p> + <p> + He returned home disgusted and irritated, and told his tale to his + employer. Mr. Quinn recognised the danger that threatened him. For the + first time, he admitted that his business was being seriously injured by + the competition of Robeen. He took Hyacinth into his confidence more fully + than he had ever done before, and explained what seemed to be a hopeful + plan. + </p> + <p> + ‘I may tell you, Conneally, that I have very little capital to fall back + upon in my business. Years ago when things were better than they are now, + I had a few thousands put by, but most of it went on buying my brother + Albert’s share of the mill. Lately I have not been able to save, and at + the present moment I can lay hands on very little money. Still, I have + something, and what I mean to do is this: I shall give up all idea of + making a profit for the present. I shall even sell my goods at a slight + loss, and try to beat the nunnery out of the market. I think this + religious animosity will weaken after a while, and if we offer the + cheapest goods we must in the end get back our customers.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was not so sanguine. + </p> + <p> + ‘You forget,’ he said, ‘that these people have Government money at their + backs, and are likely to get more of it. If you sell at a loss they will + do so, too, and ask for a new grant from the Congested Districts Board to + make good their deficiency.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Quinn sighed. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is quite possible,’ he said. ‘But what can I do? I must make a fight + for my business.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth hesitated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I have no right to make the suggestion, but it seems to me that + you are bound to be beaten. Would it not be better to give in at once? + Don’t risk the money you have safe. Keep it, and try to sell the mill and + the business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall hold on,’ said Mr. Quinn. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ought you not to think of your wife? Remember what it will mean to her if + you are beaten in the end, when your savings are gone and your business + unsaleable.’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment there were signs of wavering in Mr. Quinn’s face. The fingers + of his hands twisted in and out of each other, and a pitiable look of + great distress came into his eyes. Then he unclasped his hands and placed + them flat on the table before him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall hold on,’ he said. ‘I shall not close my mill while I have a + shilling left to pay my workers with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Hyacinth, ‘it is for you to decide. At least, you can count + on my doing my best, my very best.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Quinn carried on his struggle for nearly a year, although from the + very first he might have recognised its hopelessness. Time after time + Hyacinth made his tour, and visited the shopkeepers who had once been his + customers. Occasionally he succeeded in obtaining orders, and a faint + gleam of hope encouraged him, but he had no steady success. Mr. Quinn’s + original estimate of the situation was so far justified that after a while + the religious animosity died out. Shopkeepers even explained + apologetically that they gave their orders to the Robeen convent for + purely commercial reasons. + </p> + <p> + ‘Their goods are cheaper than yours, and that’s the truth, Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth recognised that Mr. Quinn was being beaten at his own game. He + had attempted to drive the nuns out of the market by underselling them, + and now it appeared that they, too, were prepared to face a loss. It was + obvious that their losses must be great, much greater than Mr. Quinn’s. + Rumours were rife of large loans raised by the Mother Superior, of + mortgages on the factory buildings and the machinery. These stories + brought very little consolation, for, as Hyacinth knew, Mr. Quinn was very + nearly at the end of his resources. He refused to borrow. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I am forced to close up,’ he said, ‘I shall do so with a clear + balance-sheet. I have no wish for bankruptcy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like,’ said Hyacinth vindictively, ‘to see the Reverend Mother + reduced to paying a shilling in the pound.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘you won’t see that. The convent is a + branch of an immense organization. No doubt, if it comes to a pinch, funds + will be forthcoming.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, and they won’t draw on their own purse till they have got all they + can out of the Congested Districts Board. I have no doubt they are + counting on another four thousand pounds to start them clear when they + have beaten you.’ + </p> + <p> + One day, quite accidentally, Hyacinth came by a piece of information about + the working of the Robeen factory which startled him. He was travelling + home by rail. It happened to be Friday, and, as usual in the early summer, + the train was crowded with emigrants on their way to Queenstown. The + familiar melancholy crowd waited on every platform. Old women weeping + openly and men with faces ridiculously screwed and puckered in the effort + to restrain the rising tears clung to their sons and daughters. Pitiful + little boxes and carpet bags were piled on the platform. Friends clung to + hands outstretched through the carriage-windows while the train moved + slowly out. Then came the long mournful wail from those left behind, and + the last wavings of farewell. At the Robeen station the crowd was no less + than elsewhere. The carriages set apart for the emigrants were full, and + at the last minute two girls were hustled into the compartment where + Hyacinth sat. A woman, their mother, mumbled and slobbered over their + hands. An old man, too old to be their father, shouted broken benedictions + to them. Two young men—lovers, perhaps, or brothers—stood + red-eyed, desolate and helpless, without speaking. After the train had + started Hyacinth looked at the girls. One of them, a pretty creature of + perhaps eighteen years old, wept quietly in the corner of the carriage. + Beside her lay her carpet bag and a brown shawl. On her lap was an orange, + and she held a crumpled paper bag of biscuits in her hand. There was + nothing unusual about her. She was just one instance of heartbreak, the + heart-break of a whole nation which loves home as no other people have + ever loved it, and yet are doomed, as it seems inevitably, to leave it. + She was just one more waif thrown into the whirlpool of the great world to + toil and struggle, succeed barrenly or pitifully fail; but through it all, + through even the possible loss of faith and ultimate degradation, fated to + cling to a love for the gray desolate fatherland. The other girl was + different. Hyacinth looked at her with intense interest. She was the older + of the two, and not so pretty as her sister. Her face was thin and pale, + and a broad scar under one ear showed where a surgeon’s knife had cut. She + sat with her hands folded on her lap, gazing dry-eyed out of the window + beside her. There was no sign of sorrow on her face, nothing but a kind of + sulky defiance. + </p> + <p> + After a while she took the paper bag out of her sister’s hand, opened it, + and began to eat the gingerbread biscuits it contained. Hyacinth spoke to + her, but she turned her head away, and would not answer him. His voice + seemed to rouse the younger sister, who stopped crying and looked at him + curiously. He tried again, and this time he spoke in Irish. + </p> + <p> + At once the younger girl brightened and answered him. Apparently she had + no fear that malice could lurk in the heart of a man who spoke her own + language. In a few minutes she was chatting to him as if he were an old + friend. + </p> + <p> + He learnt that the two girls were on their way to New York. They had a + sister there who had sent them the price of their tickets. Yes, the sister + was in a situation, was getting good wages, and had clothes ‘as grand as a + lady’s.’ She had sent home a photograph at Christmas-time, which their + mother had shown all round the parish. These two were to get situations + also as soon as they arrived. Oh yes, there was no doubt of it: Bridgy had + promised. There were four of them left at home—three boys and a + girl. No doubt in time they would all follow Bridgy to America—all + but Seumas; he was to have the farm. No, the girls could not get married, + because their father was too poor to give them fortunes. There was nothing + for them but to go to America. But their mother had not wanted them to go. + The clergy and the nuns were against the girls going. Indeed, they nearly + had them persuaded to send Bridgy’s money back. + </p> + <p> + ‘But Onny was set on going.’ + </p> + <p> + She glanced at her sister in the corner of the carriage. Hyacinth turned + to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you want to leave Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + But Onny remained silent, sulky, at it seemed. It was the younger girl who + answered him. + </p> + <p> + ‘They say it’s a fine life they have out there. There’s good money to be + earned, and mightn’t we be coming home some day with a fortune?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But aren’t you sorry to leave Ireland?’ + </p> + <p> + Again he looked at the elder girl, and this time was rewarded with a flash + of defiant bitterness from her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sorry, is it? No, but I’m glad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Onny’s always saying that there was nothing to be earned in the factory. + And she got more than the rest of us. Wasn’t she the first girl that + Sister Mary Aloysius picked out of the school when the young lady from + England came over to teach us? She was the best worker they had.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s true what she says,’ said Onny. ‘I was the best worker they had. I + worked for them for three years, and all I was getting at the end of it + was six shillings a week. Why would I be working for that when I might be + getting wages like Bridgy’s in America? What sense would there be in it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But why did you work for such wages?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, now,’ said the younger girl, ‘how could we be refusing the Reverend + Mother when she came round the town herself, and gave warning that we’d + all be wanted?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s few,’ continued Onny, without noticing her sister, ‘that earned + as much as I did. Many a girl works there and has no more than one and + ninepence to take home at the end of the week.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth began to understand how it was that Mr. Quinn was being + hopelessly beaten. This was no struggle between two trade rivals, to be + won by the side with the longer purse. Nor was it simply a fight between + an independent manufacturer and a firm fed with Government bounties. Mr. + Quinn’s rival could count on an unlimited supply of labour at starvation + wages, while he had to hire men and women at the market value of their + services. He had been sorry for the two girls when they got into the + train. Now he felt almost glad that they were leaving Ireland. It appeared + that they had certainly chosen the wiser part. + </p> + <p> + He arrived at home dejected, and sat down beside the fire in his room to + give himself up to complete despair. He found no hope anywhere. Irish + patriotism, so he saw it, was a matter of words and fine phrases. No one + really believed in it or would venture anything for it. Politics was a + game at which sharpers cheated each other and the people. The leaders were + bold only in sordid personal quarrels. The mass of the people were utterly + untouched by the idea of nationality, in earnest about nothing but + huckstering and petty gains. Over all was the grip of a foreign + bureaucracy and a selfish Church tightening slowly, squeezing out the + nation’s life, grasping and holding fast its wealth. No man any longer + made any demand except to be allowed to earn what would buy whisky enough + to fuddle him into temporary forgetfulness of the present misery and the + imminent tyranny. + </p> + <p> + The slatternly maid-servant who brought him his meals and made his bed + tapped at the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, sir, Jimmy Loughlin’s after coming with a letter from Mr. Quinn, + and he’s waiting to know if you’ll go.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth read the note, which asked him to call on his employer that + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell him I’ll be there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you have your dinner before you go? The chops is in the pan below. + Or will I keep them till you come back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I’ve time enough. Bring them as soon as they’re cooked, and for + goodness’ sake see that the potatoes are properly boiled.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up a great English weekly paper, with copies of which Canon + Beecher supplied him at irregular intervals, and propped it against the + dish-cover while he ate. The article which caught his attention was headed + ‘Angels in Connaught.’ It contained an idealized account of the work of + the Robeen nuns, from whose shoulders it seemed to the writer likely that + wings would soon sprout. There was a description of the once miserable + cabins now transformed into homesteads so comfortable that English + labourers would not disdain them. The people shared in the elevation of + their surroundings. Men and women, lately half-naked savages, starved and + ignorant, had risen in the scale of civilization and intelligence to a + level which almost equalled that of a Hampshire villager. The double + stream of emigration to the United States and migration to the English + harvest-fields was stopped. An earthly paradise had been created in a + howling wilderness by the self-denying labours of the holy ladies, aided + by the statesmanlike liberality of the Congested Districts Board. There + was another page of the article, but Hyacinth could stand no more. + </p> + <p> + He stood up and glanced at his watch. It was already nearly five o’clock. + He pushed his way down the street, where the country-people, having + completed their week’s marketing, were loading donkeys on the footpath or + carts pushed backwards against the kerbstone. Women dragged their + heavily-intoxicated husbands from the public-houses, and girls, damp and + bedraggled, stood in groups waiting for their parents. He turned into the + gloomy archway of the mill, unlocked the iron gate, and crossed the yard + into the Quinns’ garden. The lamp burned brightly in the dining-room, and + he could see Mrs Quinn in her chair by the fireside sewing. Her children + sat on the rug at her feet. He saw their faces turned up to hers, gravely + intent. No doubt she was telling them some story. He stood for a minute + and watched them, while the peaceful joy of the scene entered into his + heart. This, no doubt, a home full of such love and peace, was the best + thing life had got to give. It was God’s most precious benediction. ‘Lo, + thus shall a man be blessed who feareth the Lord.’ He turned and passed on + to the door. The servant showed him in, not, as he expected, to the + sitting-room he had just gazed at, but to Mr. Quinn’s study. + </p> + <p> + It was a desolate chamber. A plain wooden desk like a schoolmaster’s stood + in one corner, and upon it a feeble lamp. A bookcase surmounted a row of + cupboards along one wall. Its contents—Hyacinth had often looked + over them—were a many-volumed encyclopaedia, Macaulay’s ‘History of + England,’ Foxe’s ‘Book of Martyrs,’ a series entitled ‘Heroes of the + Reformation,’ and some bound volumes of a trade journal. Above the + chimneypiece hung two trout-rods, a landing-net, and an old gun. The grate + was fireless. It was a room obviously not loved by its owner. Neither + pleasure nor comfort was looked for in it. It was simply a place of escape + from the attractions of quiet ease when business overflowed the proper + office hours. Mr. Quinn rose from his desk when Hyacinth entered. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very glad to see you,’ he said; ‘I want to have a talk with you.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth waited while he arranged and rearranged some papers on the desk + in front of him. Mr. Quinn, although he had specially sent for Hyacinth, + seemed in no hurry to get to the subject of the interview. When he did + speak, it was evident from his tone that the important topic was still + postponed. + </p> + <p> + ‘How did you get on this week?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth had nothing good to report. He took from his pocket the note-book + in which he entered his orders, and went over it. It contained an + attenuated list. Moreover, the harvest had been bad, and old debts very + difficult to collect. Mr. Quinn listened, apparently not very attentively, + and when the reading was over said: + </p> + <p> + ‘What you report this week is simply a repetition of the story of the last + six months. I did not expect it to be different. It makes the decision I + have to make a little more inevitable, that is all. Mr. Conneally, we have + been very good friends, and since you have been in my employment I have + been satisfied with you in every way. Now I am unable to employ you any + longer. I am giving up my business.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made an effort to speak, but Mr. Quinn held up his hand and + silenced him. + </p> + <p> + ‘This week,’ he continued, ‘I received news which settled the matter for + me. Jameson and Thorpe, the big drapers in Dublin, were my best customers + for certain goods. Last Monday they wrote that they had an offer of + blankets at a figure a long way below mine. I didn’t believe that articles + equal in quality to mine could be produced at the price, and wrote a hint + to that effect. I received—nothing could have been more courteous—a + sample of the blankets offered. Well, I admit that it was at least equal + to what I could supply in every way. I wrote again asking as a favour to + be supplied with the name of the competing firm. I got the answer to-day. + Mr. Thorpe wrote himself. The Robeen convent has undersold me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth made another attempt to speak. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me finish,’ said Mr. Quinn. ‘I had foreseen, of course, that this was + coming. I have no more capital to fall back upon. I do not mean to run + into debt. There is nothing for me but to dismiss my employées and shut + up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And then——’ + </p> + <p> + He knew he had no right to ask a question about the future, but the + thought of Mrs. Quinn and her children as he had seen them in the + dining-room almost forced him to inquire what was to happen to them. A + spasm of extreme pain crossed Mr. Quinn’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are thinking of my wife. It will be hard—yes, very hard. She + loved this place, her friends here, her garden, and all the quiet, + peaceful life we have lived. Well, there is to be an end of it. But don’t + look so desperate.’ He forced himself to smile as he spoke. ‘We shall not + starve or go to the workhouse. I have a knowledge of woollen goods if I + have nothing else, and I dare say I can get an appointment as foreman or + traveller for some big drapery house. But I may not be reduced to that. + There is a secretary wanted just now in the office of one of the Dublin + charitable societies. I mean to apply for the post. Canon Beecher and our + Bishop are both members of the committee, and I am sure will do their best + for me. The salary is not princely—a hundred and twenty pounds a + year, I think. But there, I ought not to be talking all this time about + myself. I must try and do something for you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind me,’ said Hyacinth; ‘I shall be all right. But I can’t bear to + think of you and Mrs. Quinn. Poverty like that in Dublin! Have you thought + what it means? A shabby little house in a crowded street, off at the back + of somewhere; dirt and stuffiness and vulgarity all around you. She can’t + be expected to stand it—or you either.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy,’ said Mr. Quinn, ‘my wife and I have been trying all our + lives to be Christians. Shall we receive good at the Lord’s hand and not + evil also? However it may be with me, I know that she will not fail in the + trial.’ + </p> + <p> + His face lit up as he spoke, and the smile on it was no longer forced, but + clear and brave. Hyacinth knew that he was once again in the presence of + that mysterious power which enables men and women to meet and conquer loss + and pain, against which every kind of misfortune beats in vain. His eyes + filled with tears as he took Mr. Quinn’s hand and bade him good-night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Hyacinth had three months’ work to do before he actually left Mr. Quinn’s + employment. He knew that at the end of that time he would be left + absolutely without income, and that it was necessary for him to look out + for some other situation. He reckoned up the remains of his original + capital, and found himself with little more than a hundred pounds to fall + back upon. Yet he did nothing. From time to time he bestirred himself, + pondered the newspaper advertisements of vacant situations, and mentally + resolved to commence his search at once. Always some excuse offered itself + to justify putting the unpleasant business off, and he allowed himself to + slip back into the quiet routine of life as if no catastrophe threatened + him. He was, indeed, far more troubled about the Quinns’ future than his + own, and when, at the end of April, Canon Beecher returned from Dublin + with the news that he had secured the secretaryship of the Church of + Ireland Scriptural Schools Society for Mr. Quinn, Hyacinth felt that his + mind was relieved of a great anxiety. That no such post had been + discovered for him did not cost him a thought. In spite of his spasmodic + efforts to goad himself into a condition of reasonable anxiety for his + future, there remained half consciously present in his mind a conviction + that somehow a way of getting sufficient food and clothes would offer + itself in due time. + </p> + <p> + The conviction was justified by the event. It was on Saturday evening that + the Canon returned with his good news, and on Sunday morning Hyacinth + received a letter from Miss Goold. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have no doubt heard,’ she wrote, ‘that we have got a new editor for + the Croppy—Patrick O’Dwyer, Mary’s brother. Of course, you remember + Mary and her unpoetical hysterics the morning after the Rotunda meeting. + The new editor is a splendid man. He has been on the staff of a New York + paper for the last five years, and thoroughly understands the whole + business. But that’s not the best of him. He hates England worse than I + do. I’m only a child beside him, bursting out into fits of temper now and + then, and cooling off again. He hates steadily, quietly, and intensely. + But even that is not all that is to be said. He has got brains—brains + enough, my dear Hyacinth, to make fools of you and me every day and all + day long. He has devised a new policy for Ireland. The plan is simplicity + itself, like all really great plans, and it <i>must</i> succeed. I won’t + go into it now, because I want you to come up to Dublin and see O’Dwyer. + He tells me that he needs somebody else besides himself on the staff of + the <i>Croppy</i>, which, by the way, is to be enlarged and improved. He + wants a man who can write a column a week in Irish, as well as an article + now and then in good strong plain English. I suggested your name to him, + and showed him some of the articles you had written. He was greatly + pleased with the one about O’Dowd’s cheap patriotism, and liked one or two + of the others. He just asked one question about you: “Does Mr. Conneally + hate England and the Empire, and everything English, from the Parliament + to the police barrack? It is this hatred which must animate the work.” I + said I thought you did. I told him how you had volunteered to fight for + the Boers, and about the day you nearly killed that blackguard Shea. He + seemed to think that was good enough, and asked me to write to you on the + subject. We can’t offer you a big salary. The editor himself is only to + get a hundred pounds a year for the present, and I am guaranteeing another + hundred for you. I am confident that I shan’t have to pay it for more than + six months. The paper is sure to go as it never went before, and in a few + years we shall be able to treble O’Dwyer’s salary and double yours. + Nothing like such a chance has ever offered itself in Irish history + before. Everything goes to show that this is our opportunity. England is + weaker than she has been for centuries, is clinging desperately to the + last tatters of her old prestige. She hasn’t a single statesman capable of + thinking or acting vigorously. Her Parliament is the laughingstock of + Europe. Her Irish policy may be summed up in four words—intrigue + with the Vatican. In Ireland the power of the faithful garrison is gone. + The Protestants in the North are sick of being fooled by one English party + after another. The landlords, or what’s left of them, are beginning to + discover that they have been bought and sold. The Bishops, England’s last + line of defence, are overreaching themselves, and we are within measurable + distance of the day when the Church will be put into her proper place. + There is not so much as a shoneen publican in a country town left who + believes in the ranting of O’Rourke and his litter of blind whelps. + Ireland is simply crying out for light and leading, and the <i>Croppy</i> + is going to give both. You always wanted to serve Ireland. Now I am + offering you the chance. I don’t say you ought to thank me, though you + will thank me to the day of your death. I don’t say that you have an + opportunity of becoming a great man. I know you, and I know a better way + of making sure of you than that. I say to you, Hyacinth Conneally, that we + want you—just <i>you</i> and nobody else. Ireland wants you.’ + </p> + <p> + The letter, especially the last part of it, was sufficiently ridiculous to + have moved Hyacinth to a smile. But it did no such thing. On the contrary, + its rhetoric excited and touched him. The flattery of the final sentences + elated him. The absurdity of the idea that Ireland needed him, a + fifth-rate office clerk, an out-of-work commercial traveller who had + failed to sell blankets and flannels, did not strike him at all. The + figure of Augusta Goold rose to his mind. She flashed before him, an + Apocalyptic angel, splended and terrible, trumpet-calling him to the last + great fight. He forgot in an instant the Quinns and their trouble. The + years of quietness in Ballymoy, the daily intercourse with gentle people, + the atmosphere of the religion in which he had lived, fell away from him + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + He sat absorbed in an ecstasy of joyful excitement until the jangling of + Canon Beecher’s church bell recalled him to common life again. It speaks + for the strength of the habits he had formed in Ballymoy that he rose + without hesitation and went to take his part in the morning service. + </p> + <p> + He sat down as usual beside Marion Beecher and her harmonium. He listened + to her playing until her father entered. He found himself gazing at her + when she stood up for the opening words of the service. He felt himself + strangely affected by the gentleness of her face and the slender beauty of + her form. When she knelt down he could not take his eyes off her. There + came over him an inexplicable softening, a relaxation of the tense + excitement of the morning. He thought of her kneeling there in the faded + shabby church Sunday after Sunday for years and years, when he was working + at hot pressure far away. He knew just how her eyes would look calmly, + trustfully up to the God she spoke to; how her soul would grow in + gentleness; how love would be the very atmosphere around her. And all the + while he would struggle and fight, with no inspiration except a bitter + hate. Suddenly there came on him a feeling that he could not leave her. + The very thought of separation was a fierce pain. A desire of her seized + on him like uncontrollable physical hunger. Wherever he might be, whatever + life might have in store for him, he knew that his heart would go back to + her restlessly, and remain unsatisfied without her. He understood that he + loved her. Canon Beecher’s voice came to him as if from an immense + distance: + </p> + <p> + ‘O God, make speed to save us.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he heard very clearly Marion’s sweet voice replying: + </p> + <p> + ‘O Lord, make haste to help us.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a faint shuffling, and the congregation rose to their feet. His + eyes were still on Marion, and now his whole body quivered with the force + of his newly-found love. She half turned and looked at him. For one + instant their eyes met, and he saw in hers a flash of recognition, then a + strange look of fear, and she turned away from him, flushed and trembling. + He saw that she had read his heart and knew his love. + </p> + <p> + ‘Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost,’ read the + Canon heavily. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth’s heart swelled in him. His whole being seemed to throb with + exultation, and he responded in a voice he could not recognise for his. + </p> + <p> + ‘As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. + Amen.’ + </p> + <p> + Marion stood silent. Her head was bowed down, and her hands clasped tight + together. + </p> + <p> + Of the remainder of the morning’s service Hyacinth could never afterwards + remember anything. No doubt Canon Beecher read the Psalms and lessons and + prayers; no doubt he preached. Probably, also, hymns were sung, and Marion + played them, but he could not imagine how. It seemed quite impossible that + she could have touched the keys with her fingers, or that she could have + uttered any sound; yet no one had remarked the absence of hymns or even + noticed any peculiarity in their performance. Not till after the service + was over did he regain full consciousness of himself and his surroundings; + then he became exceedingly alert. He watched the Canon disappear into the + vestry, heard the congregation trample down the aisle, listened to Marion + playing a final voluntary. It seemed to him as he sat there waiting for + her to stop that she played much longer than usual. He could hear Mrs. + Beecher and Mr. Quinn talking in the porch, and every moment he expected + the Canon to appear. At last the music ceased, and the lid of the + harmonium was closed and locked. He stepped forward and took Marion’s + hands in his. + </p> + <p> + ‘Marion,’ he said, ‘I love you. It was only this morning that I found it + out, but I know—oh, I know—that I love you far, far more than + I can tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + The hand which lay in his grew cold, and the girl’s head was bowed so that + he could not see her face. He felt her tremble. + </p> + <p> + ‘Marion, Marion, I love you, love you, love you!’ + </p> + <p> + Then very slowly she raised her head and looked at him. He stooped to kiss + her lips, and felt her face flush and glow when he touched it. Then she + drew her hands from his and fled down the church to her mother. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth stood agape with wonder at the words which he had spoken. The + knowledge of his love had come on him like a sudden gust, and he only half + realized what he had done. He walked back to his lodgings, going over and + over the amazing words, recalling with flushed astonishment the kiss. Then + a chilling doubt beset him suddenly. Did Marion know how poor he was? + Never in his life had the fear of poverty or the desire of gain determined + Hyacinth’s plans. He knew very well that no such considerations would have + in any way affected his conduct towards Marion. Once he realized that he + loved her, the confession of his love was quite inevitable. Yet he felt + vaguely that he might be judged blameworthy. He had read a few novels, and + he knew that even the writers whose chief business it is to glorify the + passion of love do not dare to represent it as independent of money. He + knew, too, that many penniless heroes won admiration—he did not in + the least understand why they should—by silently deserting + affectionate women. He knew that kisses were immoral except for those who + possessed a modest competence. These authorized ethics of marriage + engagements were wholly incomprehensible to him, and it in no way + disquieted his conscience that he had bound Marion to him with his kiss; + yet he felt that she had a right to know what income he hoped to earn, and + what kind of home he would have to offer her. A hundred pounds a year + might be deemed insufficient, and he knew that, not being either a raven + or a lily, he could not count on finding food and clothes ready when he + wanted them. + </p> + <p> + The daughters of the Irish Church clergy, even of the dignitaries, are not + brought up in luxury. Still, they are most of them accustomed to a daily + supply of food—plain, perhaps, but sufficient—and will look + for as much in the homes of their husbands. A girl like Marion Beecher + does not expect to secure a position which will enable her to send her own + clothes to a laundress or hire a cook who can make pastry; but it is not + fair to ask her to wash the family’s blankets or to boil potatoes for a + pig. Probably her friends would think her lucky in marrying a curate or a + dispensary doctor with one hundred and fifty pounds a year, and the + prospect of one-third as much again after a while. But Hyacinth remembered + that he was poorer than any curate. He determined to put the matter + plainly before Marion without delay. + </p> + <p> + The Rectory door was opened for him by Elsie Beecher, and, in spite of her + wondering protests, Hyacinth walked into the dining-room and asked that + Marion should be sent to him. The room was empty, as he expected. He stood + and waited for her, deriving faint comfort and courage from the threadbare + carpet, patched tablecloth, and poor crazy chairs. They were strange + properties for a scene with possibilities of deep romance in it, but they + made his confession of poverty easier. + </p> + <p> + Marion entered at last and stood beside him. He neither took her hand nor + looked at her. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I told you to-day that I loved you,’ he said, ‘I ought to have told + you that I am very poor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am poorer even than you know. I am not in Mr. Quinn’s employment + any more. I have no settled income, and only a prospect of earning a very + small one.’ He paused. ‘I shall have to go away from Ballymoy. I must live + in Dublin. I do not think it is fair to ask you to marry me. I shall have + no more to live upon than——’ + </p> + <p> + She moved a step nearer to him and laid her hand on his arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at me,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes to her face, and saw again there, as he had seen in + church, the wonderful shining of love, which is stronger than all things + and holds poverty and hardship cheap. + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep looking at me still,’ she said. ‘Now tell me: Do you really think it + matters that you are poor? Do you think I care whether you have much or + little? Tell me.’ + </p> + <p> + He could not answer her, although he knew that there was only one answer + to her question. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think that I love money? Do you doubt that I love you?’ + </p> + <p> + Her voice sunk almost to a whisper as she spoke, and her eyes fell from + looking into his. Just as when he kissed her in the church, she flushed + suddenly, but this time she did not try to escape from him. Instead she + clung to his arm, and hid her face against his shoulder. He put his arms + round her and held her close. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I was a fool to come here thinking that my being poor + would matter. I might have known. Indeed, I think I did know even before I + spoke to you.’ + </p> + <p> + She had no answer except a long soft laugh, which was half smothered in + his arms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + On Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons Canon Beecher enjoyed the + privilege of a fire in his study. He was supposed to be engaged at these + seasons in the preparation of his sermons, a serious and exacting work + which demanded solitude and profound quiet. In earlier years he really had + prepared his sermons painfully, but long practice brings to the preacher a + certain fatal facility. Old ideas are not improved by being clothed in new + phrases, and of new ideas—a new idea will occasionally obtrude + itself even on the Christian preacher—the Canon was exceedingly + mistrustful. The study was an unexciting and comparatively comfortable + room. The firelight on winter afternoons played pleasantly on the dim gold + backs of the works of St. Augustine, a fine folio edition bequeathed to + Mrs. Beecher by a scholarly uncle, which reposed undisturbed along a lower + shelf. Adventurous rays occasionally explored a faded print of the Good + Shepherd which hung above the books, and gleamed upon the handle of the + safe where the parish registers and church plate were stored. The quiet + and the process of digesting his mid-day dinner frequently tempted the + Canon to indulge in a series of pleasant naps on Sunday afternoons. + </p> + <p> + When Hyacinth tapped at the study door and entered, the room was almost + dark, and the sermon preparation, if proceeding at all, can have got no + further than the preliminary concatenation of ideas. The Canon, however, + was aggressively, perhaps suspiciously, wide awake. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is that?’ he asked. ‘Oh, Conneally, it is you. I am very glad to see + you. Curiously enough, I thought of going down to call on you this + afternoon. I wanted to have a talk with you. I dare say you have come up + to consult me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was astonished. How could anyone have guessed what he came about? + Had Marion told her father already? + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a sad business,’ the Canon went on—’ very distressing and + perplexing indeed. But so far as you personally are concerned, Conneally, + I cannot regard it as an unmixed misfortune. You were meant for something + better, if I may say so, than selling blankets. Now, I have a plan for + your future, which I talked over last week with an old friend of yours. + Now that something has been settled about the Quinns, we must all give our + minds to your affairs.’ + </p> + <p> + Then Hyacinth understood that Canon Beecher expected to be consulted about + his future plans, and even had some scheme of his own in mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I shall be very glad of your help and advice, although + I think I have decided about what I am going to do. It was not on that + subject I came to speak to you to-day, but on another, more important, I + think, for you and for me and for Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For Marion?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ought to tell you at once that I love your daughter Marion, and I am + sure that she loves me. I want to marry her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy! I had not the slightest idea of this. It is one of the most + extraordinary things—or perhaps extraordinary is not exactly the + proper word—one of the most surprising things I——’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon stopped abruptly and sat stroking his chin with his forefinger + in the effort to adjust his mind to the new situation presented to it. It + was characteristic of the man that the thought of Hyacinth’s poverty was + not the first which presented itself. Indeed, Canon Beecher was one of + those unreasonable Christians who are actually convinced of the truth of + certain paradoxical sayings in the Gospel about wealth and poverty. He + believed that there were things of more importance in life than the + possession of money. Fortunately, such Christians are rare, for their + absurd creed forms a standing menace to the existence of Church and sect + alike. Fortunately also, ecclesiastical authorities have sufficient wisdom + to keep these eccentrics in the background, confining them as far as + possible to remote and obscure places. If ever a few of them escape into + the open and find means of expressing themselves, the whole machinery of + modern religion will become dislocated, and the Church will very likely + relapse into the barbarity of the Apostolic age. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe, Conneally,’ said the Canon at last, ‘that you are a good man. + I do not merely mean that you are moral and upright, but that you + sincerely desire to follow in the footsteps of the Master.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked as if he wanted some kind of answer, at least a confirmation of + his belief. Fresh from his interview with Marion, and having the Canon’s + eyes upon him, it did not seem impossible to Hyacinth to answer yes. Even + the thought of the work he was to engage in with Miss Goold and Patrick + O’Dwyer seemed to offer no ground for hesitation. Was he not enlisting + with them to take part in the great battle? He had never ceased to believe + his father’s words: ‘And the battlefield is Ireland—our dear Ireland + which we love!’ He felt for the moment that he was altogether prepared to + make the confession of faith the Canon required. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am on His side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you love Marion? Are you quite sure of that? Are you certain that + this is not a passing fancy?’ + </p> + <p> + This time Hyacinth had no doubt whatever about his answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am as certain of my love as I am of anything in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad. I am very glad that this has happened—for your sake, + because I have always liked you; also for Marion’s sake. I shall see you + happy because you love one another, and because you both love the Lord. I + ask no more than those two things. But I must go and tell my wife at once. + She will be glad, too.’ + </p> + <p> + He rose and went to the door. With his hand stretched out to open it he + stopped, struck by a sudden thought. + </p> + <p> + ‘By the way, I ought to ask you—if you mean to be married—have + you any—I mean it is necessary—I hope you won’t think I am + laying undue stress upon such matters, but I really—I mean we really + ought to consider what you are to live upon.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the prospect of imparting the news to his wife which forced this + speech from him. Mrs. Beecher was, indeed, the least worldly of women. Did + she not marry the Canon, then a mere curate, on the slenderest income, and + bear him successively five babies in defiance of common prudence? But it + had fallen to her lot to order the affairs of the household, and she had + learnt that the people who give you bread and beef demand, after an + interval, more or less money in exchange. It was likely that, after her + first rapture had subsided, she would make some inquiry about Hyacinth’s + income and prospects. The Canon felt he ought to be prepared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course, I have lost my position with Mr. Quinn. You know that. But I + have an offer of work which I hope will lead on to something better, and + will enable me in a short time to earn enough money to marry on. You know—or + perhaps you don’t, for I am afraid I never told you‘—he remembered + that he had carefully concealed his connection with the <i>Croppy</i> from + his friends at Ballymoy, and paused—‘I have done some little + writing. Oh, nothing very much—not a book, or anything like that, + only a few articles for the press. Well, a friend of mine has got me the + offer of a post in connection with a weekly paper. It is not a very great + thing in itself just now, but it may improve, and there is always the + prospect of picking up other work of the same kind.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon, who had never seen even an abstract of one of his own sermons + in print, had a proper reverence for the men who guide the world’s thought + through the press. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is very good, Conneally—very satisfactory indeed. I always + knew you had brains. But why did you never tell me what you were doing? I + should have been deeply interested in anything you wrote.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth’s conscience smote him. + </p> + <p> + ‘The truth is, that I was sure you wouldn’t approve of the paper I wrote + for. It is the <i>Croppy</i>, the organ of the extreme left wing of the + Nationalist party. It is Miss Goold—Augusta Goold—who now + offers me work on that paper. She says—— But you had better + read what she says for yourself. Then you will know the worst of it.’ + </p> + <p> + He took the letter from his pocket. The Canon lit a candle and read it + through slowly and attentively. When he had finished he laid it upon the + table and sat down. Hyacinth waited in extreme anxiety for what was to + come. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not like the cause you mean to work for or the people you call your + friends. I would rather see my daughter’s husband doing almost anything + else in the world. I would be happier if you proposed to break stones upon + the roadside. You know what my political opinions are. I regard the <i>Croppy</i> + as a disloyal and seditious paper, bent upon fostering a dangerous + spirit.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth listened patiently. He had steeled himself against the hearing of + some such words, and was determined not to be moved to argument or + self-defence except as a last resort. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope,’ he said, ‘that you will at least give me credit for honestly + acting in accordance with my convictions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure—quite sure—that you are honest, and believe that + your cause is the right one. I recognise, too, though this is a very + difficult thing to do, that you have every right to form and hold your own + political opinions. It seems to me that they are very wrong and very + mischievous, but it is quite possible that I am mistaken and prejudiced. + In any case, I am not called upon to refuse you my affection or to + separate you from my daughter because we differ about politics.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth breathed a great sigh of relief. He looked at the Canon in wonder + and admiration. It had been beyond hope that a man grown gray in a narrow + faith, a faith in which for centuries religion and politics had been + inextricably blended, could have risen in one clear flight above the mire + of prejudice. It seemed, even after he had spoken, impossible that in + Ireland, where political opponents believe each other to be thieves and + murderers, there could be found even one man, and he from the least + emancipated class of all, who could understand and practise tolerance. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ went on the Canon, speaking very slowly, and with evident + difficulty, ‘that I have no right to put you away from me because of your + political opinions. But there is something here ‘—he touched Miss + Goold’s letter—’ from which I must by all means try to save you. + Will you let me speak to you, not as Marion’s father, not even as your + friend, but as Christ’s ambassador set here to watch for your soul? But I + need not excuse myself for what I am about to say. You will at least + listen to me patiently.’ + </p> + <p> + He took up Miss Goold’s letter and searched through it for a short time; + then he read aloud: + </p> + <p> + ‘“He just asked one question about you: Does Mr. Conneally hate England + and the Empire and everything English, from the Parliament to the police + barrack? For it is this hatred which must animate our work. I said I + thought you did.” Now consider what those words mean. You are to dedicate + your powers, the talents God has given you, to preaching a gospel of hate. + This is not a question of politics. I am ready to believe that in the + contest of which our unhappy country is the battle-ground a man may be + either on your side or mine, and yet be a follower of Christ. It is + impossible to think that anyone can deliberately, with his eyes open, + accept hatred for the inspiration of his life and still be true to Him.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was greatly moved by the solemnity with which the Canon spoke. + There was that in him which witnessed to the truth of what he heard. Yet + he refused to be convinced. When he spoke it was clear that he was not + addressing his companion, for his eyes were fixed upon the picture of the + Good Shepherd, faintly illuminated by the candle light. He desired to + order his own thought on the dilemma, to justify, if he could, his own + position to himself. ‘It is true that the Gospel of Christ is a Gospel of + love. Yet there are circumstances in which it is wrong to follow it. Is it + possible to rouse our people out of their sordid apathy, to save Ireland + for a place among the nations, except by preaching a mighty indignation + against the tyranny which has crushed us to the dust?’ + </p> + <p> + He felt that Canon Beecher’s eyes never left him for a moment while he + spoke. He looked up, and saw in them an intense pleading. There stole over + him a desire to yield, to submit himself to this appealing tenderness. He + defended himself desperately against his weakness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not choosing the pleasanter way. It would be easier for me to give + up the fight for Ireland, to desert the beaten side, to forget the lost + cause.’ He turned to Canon Beecher, speaking almost fiercely: ‘Do you + think it is a small thing for me to surrender your friendship, and perhaps—perhaps + to lose Marion? Is there not <i>some</i> of the nobility of sacrifice in + refusing to listen to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot argue with you. No doubt you are cleverer than I am. But I <i>know</i> + this—God is love, and only he who dwelleth in love dwelleth in God.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I do love: I love Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah yes; but He says, “Love your enemies.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ said Hyacinth, ‘I will not have Him for my God.’ + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he spoken than he started and grew suddenly cold. It was no + doubt some trick of memory, but he believed that he heard very faintly + from far off a remembered voice: + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you be sure to know the good side from the bad, the Captain from the + enemy.’ + </p> + <p> + They were the last words his father had said to him. They had passed + unregarded when they were spoken, but lingered unthought of in some recess + of his memory. Now they came on him full of meaning, insistent for an + answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have chosen,’ said the Canon. + </p> + <p> + He had chosen. Could he be sure that he had chosen right, that he knew the + good side from the bad? + </p> + <p> + ‘You have chosen, and I have no more to say. Only, before it becomes + impossible for you and me to kneel together, I ask you to let me pray with + you once more. You can do this because you still believe He hears us, + although you have decided to walk no more with Him.’ + </p> + <p> + They knelt together, and Hyacinth, numbly indifferent, felt his hand + grasped and held. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Christ,’ said Canon Beecher, ‘this child of Thine has chosen to live by + hatred rather than by love. Do Thou therefore remove love from him, lest + it prove a hindrance to him on the way on which he goes. Let the memory of + the cross be blotted out from his mind, so that he may do successfully + that which he desires.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth wrenched his hand free from the grasp which held it, and flung + himself forward across the table at which they knelt. Except for his sobs + and his choking efforts to subdue them, there was silence in the room. + Canon Beecher rose from his knees and stood watching him, his lips moving + with unspoken supplication. At last Hyacinth also rose and stood, calm + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have conquered me,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘My son, my son, this is joy indeed! All along I knew He could not fail + you. But I have not conquered you. The Lord Jesus has saved you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know,’ said Hyacinth slowly, ‘whether I have been saved or lost. + I am not sure even now that I know the good side from the bad. But I do + know that I cannot live without the hope of being loved by Him. Whether it + is the better part to which I resign myself I cannot tell. No doubt He + knows. As for me, if I have been forced to make a great betrayal, if I am + to live hereafter very basely—and I think I am—at least I have + not cut myself off from the opportunity of loving Him.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + Canon Beecher took no notice of Hyacinth’s last speech. He had returned + with amazing swiftness and ease from the region of high emotion to the + commonplace. Excursions to the shining peaks of mystical experience are + for most men so rare that the glory leaves them with dazzled eyes, and + they walk stumblingly for a while along the dull roads of the world. But + Canon Beecher, in the course of his pleading with Hyacinth, had been only + in places very well known to him. The presence chamber of the King was to + him also the room of a familiar friend. It was no breathless descent from + the green hill of the cross to the thoroughfare of common life. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, my dear boy,’ he said, ‘we really must go and talk to my wife and + Marion. Besides, I must tell you the plan I have made for you—the + plan I was just going to speak about when you put it out of my head with + the news of your love-making.’ + </p> + <p> + For Hyacinth a great effort was necessary before he could get back to his + normal state. His hands were trembling violently. His forehead and hair + were damp with sweat. His whole body was intensely cold. His mind was + confused, and he listened to what was said to him with only the vaguest + apprehension of its meaning. The Canon laid a firm hand upon his arm, and + led him away from the study. In the passage he stopped, and asked Hyacinth + to go back and blow out the candle which still burned on the study table. + </p> + <p> + ‘And just put some turf on the fire,’ he added; ‘I don’t want it to go + out.’ + </p> + <p> + The pause enabled Hyacinth to regain his self-command, and the performance + of the perfectly ordinary acts required of him helped to bring him back + again to common life. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the drawing-room it was evident that Mrs. Beecher had + already heard the news, and was, in fact, discussing the matter eagerly + with Marion. She sprang up, and hastened across the room to meet them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am so glad,’ she said—‘so delighted! I am sure you and Marion + will be happy together.’ + </p> + <p> + She took Hyacinth’s hands in hers, and held them while she spoke, then + drew nearer to him and looked up in his face expectantly. A fearful + suspicion seized him that on an occasion of the kind she might consider it + right to kiss him. It was with the greatest difficulty that he suppressed + a wholly unreasonable impulse to laugh aloud. Apparently the need of such + affectionate stimulant was strong in Mrs. Beecher. When Hyacinth hung + back, she left him for her husband, put her arms round his neck, and + kissed him heartily on both cheeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t it fortunate,’ she said, ‘that you saw Dr. Henry last week while + you were in Dublin? You little thought how important that talk with him + was going to turn out—I mean, of course, important for us. It always + was important for Mr.—I mean for Hyacinth.’ + </p> + <p> + The Canon seemed a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat somewhat + unnecessarily, and then said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t mentioned that matter yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not mentioned Dr. Henry’s offer! Then, what have you been talking about + all this time?’ + </p> + <p> + It did not seem necessary to tell Mrs. Beecher all that had been said, or + to repeat the scene in the study for her benefit. The Canon cleared his + throat again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was in Dublin last week attending a meeting of the Scriptural Schools + Society, and I met Dr. Henry. We were talking about the Quinns. I told you + that Mr. Quinn is to be the new secretary of the society, didn’t I? Dr. + Henry knows Mr. Quinn slightly, and was greatly interested in him. Your + name naturally was mentioned. Dr. Henry seems to have taken a warm + interest in you when you were in college, and to have a very high opinion + of your abilities. He did not know what had become of you, and was very + pleased to hear that you were a friend of ours.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth knew at once what was coming—knew what Canon Beecher’s plan + for his future was, and why he was pleased with it; understood how Mrs. + Beecher came to describe this conversation with Dr. Henry as fortunate. He + waited for the rest of the recital, vaguely surprised at his own want of + feeling. + </p> + <p> + ‘I told him,’ the Canon went on, eying Hyacinth doubtfully, ‘that you had + lost your employment here. I hope you don’t object to my having mentioned + that. I am sure you wouldn’t if you had heard how sympathetically he spoke + of you. He assured me that he was most anxious to help you in any way in + his power. He just asked one question about you.’ Hyacinth started. Where + had he heard those identical words before? Oh yes, they were in Miss + Goold’s letter. Patrick O’Dwyer also had just asked one question about + him. He smiled faintly as the Canon went on: ‘“Is he fit, spiritually fit, + to be ordained? For it is the desire to serve God which must animate our + work.” I said I thought you were. I told him how you sang in our choir + here, and how fond you seemed of our quiet life, and what a good fellow + you are. You see, I did not know then that I was praising the man who is + to be my son-in-law. He asked me to remind you of a promise he had once + made, and to say that he was ready to fufil it. I understood him to mean + that he would recommend you to any Bishop you like for ordination.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth remained silent. He felt that in surrendering his work for the <i>Croppy</i> + he surrendered also his right to make any choice. He was ready to be + shepherded into any position, like a sheep into a pen. And he had no + particular wish to resist. He saw a simple satisfaction in Mrs. Beecher’s + face and a beautiful joy in Marion’s eyes. It was impossible for him to + disappoint them. He smiled a response to Mrs. Beecher’s kindly triumph. + </p> + <p> + ‘Isn’t that splendid! Now you and Marion will be able to be married quite + soon, and I do dislike long engagements. Of course, you will be very poor + at first, but no poorer than we were. And Marion is not afraid of being + poor—are you, dear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is just what I have been saying to him,’ said Marion; ‘isn’t it, + Hyacinth? Of course I am not afraid. I have always said that if I ever + married I should like to marry a clergyman, and if one does that one is + sure to be poor.’ + </p> + <p> + Evidently there was no doubt in either of their minds that Hyacinth would + accept Dr. Henry’s offer. Nor had he any doubt himself. The thing seemed + too inevitable to be anything but right. Only on Canon Beecher’s face + there lingered a shadow of uncertainty. Hyacinth saw it, and relieved his + mind at once. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall write to Dr. Henry to-night and thank him. I shall ask him to try + and get me a curacy as soon as possible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said the Canon. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ added Hyacinth, ‘that I should prefer getting work in England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, why,’ said Mrs. Beecher. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay in Ireland! + and then we might have Marion somewhere within reach.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said the Canon, ‘we must let Hyacinth decide for himself. I am + sure he knows what is wisest for him to do.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was not at all sure that he knew what was wisest, and he was + quite certain that he had not decided for himself in any matter of the + slightest importance. He had suggested an English curacy in the vague hope + that it might be easier there to forget his hopes and dreams for Ireland. + It seemed to him, too, that a voluntary exile, of which he could not think + without pain, might be a kind of atonement for the betrayal of his old + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + The Canon followed him to the door when he left. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy’—there was a break in his voice as he spoke—’ my + dear boy, you have made me very happy. I am sure that you will not enter + upon the work of the ministry from any unworthy motive. The call will + become clearer to you by degrees. I mean the inward call. The outward + call, the leading of circumstance, has already made abundantly plain the + way you ought to walk in. The other will come—the voice which brings + assurance and peace when it speaks.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at him wistfully. There seemed very little possibility of + anything like assurance for him, and only such peace as might be gained by + smothering the cries with which his heart assailed him. The Canon held his + hand and wrung it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I can understand why you want to go to England. Your political opinions + will interfere very little with your work there. Here, of course, it would + be different. Yes, your choice is certainly wise, for nothing must be + allowed to hinder your work. “Laying aside every weight,” you remember, + “let us run the race.” Yes, I understand.’ + </p> + <p> + It was perfectly clear to Hyacinth that the Canon did not understand in + the least. It was not likely that anyone ever would understand. + </p> + <p> + Gradually his despondency gave way before the crowding in of thoughts of + satisfaction. He was to have Marion, to live with her, to love her, and be + loved by her as long as they both lived. He saw life stretching out before + him, a sunlit, pleasant journey in Marion’s company. It did not seem to + him that any trouble could be really bad, any disappointment intolerable, + any toil oppressive with her love for an atmosphere round him. He + believed, too, that the work he was undertaking was a good work, perhaps + the highest and noblest kind of work there is to be done in the world. + From this conviction also came a glow of happiness. Yet there kept + recurring chill shudderings of self-reproach. Something within him kept + whispering that he had bartered his soul for happiness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have chosen the easier and therefore the baser way,’ he said. ‘I have + shrunk from toil and pain. I have refused to make the sacrifice demanded + of me.’ + </p> + <p> + He went back again to the story of his father’s vision. For a moment it + seemed quite clear that he had deliberately refused the call to the great + fight, that he had judged himself unworthy, being cowardly and selfish in + his heart. Then he remembered that the Captain of whom his father had told + him was no one else but Christ, the same Christ of whom Canon Beecher + spoke, the Good Shepherd whose love he had discovered to be the greatest + need of all. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must have Him,’ he said—‘I must have Him—and Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + Again with the renewed decision came a glow of happiness and a sense of + rest, until there rose, as if to smite him, the thought of Ireland—of + Ireland, poor, derided of strangers, deserted by her sons, roped in as a + prize-ring where selfish men struggle ignobly for sordid gains. The + children of the land fled from it sick with despair. Its deserted houses + were full of all doleful things. Cormorants and the daughters of the owl + lodged in the lintels of them. + </p> + <p> + Sullen desolation was on the threshold, while satyrs cried to their + fellows across tracts of brown rush-grown land. Aliens came to hiss and + passed by wagging their hands. Over all was the monotony of the gray sky, + descending and still descending with clouds that came upon the land, + mistily folding it in close embraces of death. Voices sounded far off and + unreal through the gloom. The final convulsive struggles of the nation’s + life grew feebler and fewer. Of all causes Ireland’s seemed the most + hopelessly lost. Was he, too, going to forsake her? He felt that in spite + of all the good promised him there would always hang over his life a gloom + that even Marion’s love would not disperse, the heavy shadow of Ireland’s + Calvary. For Marion there would be no such darkness, nor would Marion + understand it. But surely Christ understood. Words of His crowded to the + memory. ‘When He beheld the city He wept over it, saying, Oh, Jerusalem, + Jerusalem!’ Most certainly He understood this, as He understood all human + emotion. He, too, had yearned over a nation’s fall, had felt the + heartbreak of the patriot. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have chosen Him,’ he said at last. ‘Once having caught a glimpse of + Him, I could not do without Him. He understands it all, and He has given + me Marion.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + It was a brilliant July day, and the convent at Robeen was decked for a + festival. The occasion was a very great one. Cloth of gold hung in the + chapel, the entrance-hall was splendid with flowers, and the whole white + front of the buildings had put on signs of holiday. Indeed, this festival + was unique, the very greatest day in the history of the sisterhood. + Easter, Christmas, and the saints’ days recurred annually in their proper + order, and the emotions they brought with them were no doubt familiar to + holy ladies whose business it was to live in close touch with the other + world. But on this day the great of the earth, beings much more + unapproachable, as a rule, than the saints, were to visit the convent. + Honour was to be paid to ladies whose magnificence was guaranteed by + worldly titles; to the Proconsuls of the far-off Imperial power, holders + of the purse-strings of the richest nation upon earth; to Judges + accustomed to sit in splendid robes and awful head-dresses, pronouncing + the doom of malefactors; to a member of the Cabinet, a very mighty man, + though untitled; and quite possibly—a glittering hope—to the + Lord Lieutenant himself. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore no wonder that the nuns had decked their convent with all + possible splendour. On each side of the iron gateway was a flag-post. From + the top of one fluttered the green banner of Ireland, with its gold harp + and a great crown over it. From the other hung the Union Jack, emblem of + that marriage of nationalities for whose consummation eight centuries have + not sufficed. It was hoisted upside down—not with intentional + disrespect, but because Sister Gertrude, who superintended this part of + the decorations, had long ago renounced the world, and did not remember + that the tangled crosses had a top or a bottom to them. Between the posts + hung a festoon of signalling flags, long pointed strips of bunting with + red balls or blue on them. The central streamer just tipped as it + fluttered the top of the iron cross which marked the religious nature of + the gateway. The straight gravel walk inside was covered with red baize, + and on each side of it were planted tapering poles, round which crimson + and white muslin circled in alternate stripes, giving them the appearance + of huge old-fashioned sugar-sticks. These added to the gaiety of the + scene, though it cannot be supposed that they were of any actual use. The + most bewildered visitor was hardly likely to stray off the red baize or + miss his way to the door in front of him. Within the great entrance-hall + were palms and flowering shrubs in pots or tubs. The mosaic flooring, + imported from Italy, and a source of pride to all the Sisters, shone with + much washing and polishing. The Madonna with the blue eyes and the golden + crown, before which even Bishops crossed themselves, was less in evidence + than usual, for the expected guests were mostly heretics. She stood + retired behind the flower-pots, and veiled her benignity with the leaves + of palms. + </p> + <p> + Right and left of the hall stretched corridors, whose shining parquet + invited the curious to explore the working-rooms and eating-rooms which + lay beyond. The door of the chapel stood open, and offered a vision of + simpering angels crowding the canvas of the altar-piece, a justly-admired + specimen of German religious art. Before it, dimly seen, two nuns knelt, + types of conventual piety, absorbed in spiritual contemplation amid the + tumult of the world’s invasion of their sanctuary. Another door led to the + garden. Here a fountain played into a great stone basin, and neat gravel + walks intersected each other at sharp angles among flower-beds. The grass + which lay around the maze of paths was sacred as a rule, even from the + list slippers of the nuns, but to-day booths stood on it like stalls at a + charity bazaar, hung with tweeds, blankets, and stockings. A tall Calvary + lowered incongruously over one. An inferior Madonna, deposed from her old + station in the entrance-hall, presided in a weather-beaten blue robe over + another. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the garden, blocked off from it by a white wall, lay the factory + itself, the magnet which was drawing the great of the earth to the + nunnery. Here were the workers, all of them bright young women, smiling + pleasantly and well washed for the occasion. They were dressed in neat + violet petticoats and white blouses, with shawls thrown back from their + heads, a glorified presentment of the Mayo woman’s working dress. Here and + there, a touch of realism creditable to the Reverend Mother’s talent for + stage management, one sat in bare feet—not, of course, dust or mud + stained, as bare feet are apt to be in Connaught, but clean. The careful + observer of detail might have been led to suppose that the Sisters + improved upon the practice of the Holy Father himself, and daily washed + the feet of the poor. + </p> + <p> + Everywhere fresh-complexioned, gentle-faced nuns flitted silently about. + The brass crosses pendent over their breasts relieved with a single + glitter the sombre folds of their robes. Snowy coifs, which had cost the + industrial schoolgirls of a sister house hours of labour and many tears, + shone, glazed and unwrinkled, round their heads. Even the youngest of them + had acquired the difficult art of walking gracefully with her hands folded + in front of her. + </p> + <p> + At about two o’clock the visitors began to arrive, although the train from + Dublin which was to bring the very elect was not due for another + half-hour. Lady Geoghegan, grown pleasantly stout and cheerfully + benignant, came by a local train, and rejoiced the eyes of beholders with + a dress made of one of the convent tweeds. Sir Gerald followed her, + awkward and unwilling. He had been dragged with difficulty from his books + and the society of his children, and was doubtful whether a cigar in a + nunnery garden might not be counted sacrilege. With them was a wonderful + person—an English priest: it was thus he described himself—whom + Lady Geoghegan had met in Yorkshire. His charming manners and good Church + principles had won her favour and earned him the holiday he was enjoying + at Clogher House. He was arrayed in a pair of gray trousers, a white + shirt, and a blazer with the arms of Brazenose College embroidered on the + pocket, his sacerdotal character being marked only by his collar. He + leaped gaily from the car which brought them from the station, and, as he + assisted his hostess to alight, amazed the little crowd around the gate by + chaffing the driver in an entirely unknown tongue. The good man had an ear + for music, and plumed himself on his ability to pick up any dialect he + heard—Scotch, Yorkshire, or Irish brogue. The driver was bewildered, + but smiled pleasantly. He realized that the gentleman was a foreigner, and + since the meaning of his speech was not clear, it was quite likely that he + might be hazy about the value of money and the rates of car hire. + </p> + <p> + The Duchess of Drummin came in her landau. Like Lady Geoghegan, she marked + the national and industrial nature of the occasion in her attire. At much + personal inconvenience, for the day was warm, she wore a long cloak of + rich brown tweed, adorned with rows of large leather-covered buttons. Lady + Josephine Maguire fluttered after her. She had bidden her maid disguise a + dress, neither Irish nor homespun, with as much Carrickmacross lace as + could be attached to it. Lord Eustace, who represented his father, + appeared in all the glory of a silk hat and a frock-coat. He eyed Sir + Gerald’s baggy trousers and shabby wideawake with contempt, and turned + away his eyes from beholding the vanity of obviously bad form when he came + face to face with the English priest in his blazer. + </p> + <p> + A smiling nun took charge of each party as it arrived. Lady Geoghegan + plied hers with questions, and received a series of quite uninforming + answers. Her husband followed her, bent principally upon escaping from the + precincts if he could. Already he was bored, and he knew that speeches + from great men were in store for him if he were forced to linger. The + Duchess of Drummin eyed each object presented to her notice gravely + through long-handled glasses, but gave her attendant nun very little + conversational help. Lady Josephine made every effort to be intelligent, + and inquired in a dormitory where the looking-glasses were. She was amazed + to hear that the nuns did, or failed to do, their hair—the + head-dresses concealed the result of their efforts—without mirrors. + Lord Eustace was preoccupied. Amid his unaccustomed surroundings he walked + uncertain whether to keep his hat on his head or hold it in his hands. The + English priest, whose name was Austin, got detached from Lady Geoghegan, + and picked up a stray nun for himself. She took him, by his own request, + straight to the chapel. He crossed himself with elaborate care on + entering, and knelt for a moment before the altar. The nun was delighted. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you, too, are a Catholic?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly,’ he replied briskly—‘an English Catholic.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! many of our priests go to England. Perhaps you have met Father + O’Connell. He is on a London mission.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Mr. Austin, ‘I do not happen to have met him. My church is in + Yorkshire.’ + </p> + <p> + The nun gazed at him in amazement. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your church! Then you are—— + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I am a priest.’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes slowly travelled over him. They began at the gray trousers, + passed to the blazer, resting a moment on the college arms, which + certainly suggested the ecclesiastical, and remained fixed on his collar. + After all, why should she, a humble nun, doubt his word when he said he + was a priest? Perhaps he might belong to some order of which she had never + heard. Eccentricities of costume might be forced on the English clergy by + Protestant intolerance. She smothered her uncertainty, and took him at his + word. They went together into the garden. Mr. Austin took off his hat + before the tarnished Madonna, and crossed himself again. The nun’s doubts + vanished. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that I should like to buy some of this tweed. Is it + for sale?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, certainly. Sister Aloysia will sell it to you. We are so glad, so + very glad, when anyone will buy what our poor workers make. It is all a + help to the good cause.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now this,’ said Mr. Austin, fingering a bright-green cloth, ‘would make a + nice lady’s dress. Don’t you think so?’ + </p> + <p> + The nun cast down her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not know, Father, about dresses. Sister Aloysia, the Reverend Father + wants to buy tweed to make a dress for ‘—she hesitated; perhaps it + was his niece, but he looked young to have a full-grown niece—‘for + his sister.’ + </p> + <p> + Sister Aloysia looked round her, puzzled. She saw no Reverend Father. + </p> + <p> + ‘This,’ said the other, ‘is Father—Father——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Austin,’ he helped her out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Austin,’ added the nun. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you wish,’ said Sister Aloysia, ‘to buy a dress for your sister?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not for my sister,’ said Mr. Austin—‘for my wife.’ + </p> + <p> + Both nuns started back as if he had tried to strike them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your wife! Your wife! Then you are a Protestant.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘I detest all Protestants. I am a Catholic—an + Anglo-Catholic.’ + </p> + <p> + Neither of the nuns had ever heard of an Anglo-Catholic before. What + manner of religion such people might profess was doubtful and unimportant. + One thing was clear—this was not a priest in any sense of the word + which they could recognise. They distrusted him, as a wolf, not certainly + in the clothing, but using the language, of a sheep. The situation became + embarrassing. Mr. Austin prepared to bow himself away. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ he said, ‘I shall ask Lady Geoghegan’—he rolled the title + out emphatically; it formed a salve to his wounded dignity—‘I shall + ask Lady Geoghegan to purchase the tweed for me. I must be on the look-out + for a friend who promised to meet me here this afternoon—a young man + whom I contemplate engaging as my curate. I am most particular in the + choice of a curate, and should, of course, prefer a public school and + ‘Varsity man. I need scarcely say that I refer only to Oxford and + Cambridge as the Universities. As a rule, I do not care for Irishmen, but + on the recommendation of my friend Dr. Henry, I am willing to consider + this Mr. Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + It seemed to Mr. Austin that a preference for the English Universities, + the friendship of a distinguished professor, a contempt for the mere + Irishman, and a titled hostess ought to restore the respect he had + forfeited by the mention of his wife. Curiously enough, and this shows the + disadvantage of a monastic seclusion from the world, the nuns remained + unimpressed. The conception of a married priest was too much for them. As + he walked away Mr. Austin heard Sister Aloysia murmur: + </p> + <p> + ‘How very indecent!’ + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the train from Dublin had arrived, and Mr. Austin, when he + returned after his interview with Hyacinth, found that even the two nuns + he had victimized had forgotten him in the excitement of gazing at more + important visitors. Mr. Justice Saunders, a tall, stout man with a florid + face, made a tour of the factory under the charge of one of the senior + Sisters. He took little notice of what he was shown, being mainly bent on + explaining to his escort how he came to be known in legal circles as + ‘Satan Saunders.’ Afterwards he added a tale of how he had once bluffed a + crowd in an out-of-the-way country town into giving three cheers for the + Queen. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re all loyal here,’ he said. ‘I saw the Union Jack flying over the + gate as I came in.’ + </p> + <p> + The nun smiled, a slow, enigmatic smile, and the Judge, watching her, was + struck by her innocence and simplicity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely,’ she said, ‘the Church must always be loyal.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I’m not so sure of that. I’ve met a few firebrands of priests in my + time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, those!’ she said with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘You must not think + of them. It will always be easy to keep them in order when the time comes. + They spring from the cabins. What can you expect of them? But the Church—— + Can the Church fail of respect for the Sovereign?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clifford and Mr. Davis followed Judge Saunders. They were members of + the Congested Districts Board, and it was clear from the manner of the nun + who escorted them that they were guests of very considerable importance in + her estimation. Mr. Clifford was an Englishman who had been imported to + assist in governing Ireland because he was married to the sister of the + Chief Secretary’s wife. He was otherwise qualified for the task by + possessing a fair knowledge of the points of a horse. He believed that he + knew Ireland and the Irish people thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + His colleague, Mr. Davis, was a man of quite a different stamp. The son of + a Presbyterian farmer in County Tyrone, he had joined the Irish + Parliamentary party, and made himself particularly objectionable in + Westminster. He had devoted his talents to discovering and publishing the + principles upon which appointments to lucrative posts are made by the + officials in Dublin Castle. It was found convenient at last to provide him + with a salary and a seat on the Congested Districts Board. Thus he found + himself engaged in ameliorating the lot of the Connaught peasants. Mr. + Clifford used to describe him as ‘a bit of a bounder—in fact, a + complete outsider—but no fool.’ His estimate of Mr. Clifford was + perhaps less complimentary. + </p> + <p> + ‘Every business,’ he used to say, ‘must have at least one gentleman in it + to do the entertaining and the dining out. We have Mr. Clifford. He’s a + first-rate man at one of the Lord Lieutenant’s balls.’ + </p> + <p> + A professor from Trinity College was one of the two guests conducted by + the Reverend Mother herself. Nominally this learned gentleman existed for + the purpose of impressing upon the world the beauties of Latin poetry, but + he was best known to fame as an orator on the platforms of the Primrose + League, and a writer of magazine articles on Irish questions. He was a man + who owed his success in life largely to his faculty for always keeping + beside the most important person present. The Lord Lieutenant, being + slightly indisposed, had been unable to make an early start, so the most + honourable stranger was Mr. Chesney, the Chief Secretary. To him Professor + Cairns attached himself, and received a share of the Reverend Mother’s + blandishments. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Chesney himself was dapper and smiling as usual. Even the early hour + at which he had been obliged to leave home had neither ruffled his temper + nor withered the flower in his buttonhole. He spent his money generously + at the various stalls in the garden, addressed friendly remarks to the + women in the factory, and asked the questions with which Mr. Davis had + primed him in the train. + </p> + <p> + Quite a crowd of minor people followed the great statesman. There were + barristers who hoped to become County Court Judges, and ladies who enjoyed + a novel kind of occasion for displaying their clothes, hoping to see their + names afterwards in the newspaper accounts of the proceedings. There were + a few foremen from leading Dublin shops, who foresaw the possibility of a + fashionable boom in Robeen tweeds and flannels. There were also reporters + from the Dublin papers, and a representative—Miss O’Dwyer—of a + syndicate which supplied ladies’ journals with accounts of the clothes + worn at fashionable functions. + </p> + <p> + The supreme moment of the day arrived when the company assembled to listen + to words of wisdom from the orators selected to address them. Seats had + been provided by carting in forms from the neighbouring national schools. + A handsomely-carved chair of ecclesiastical design awaited Mr. Chesney. + </p> + <p> + He opened his speech by assuring his audience that there was no occasion + for him to address them at all, a truth which struck home to the heart of + Sir Gerald, who was trying to arrange himself comfortably at a desk + designed for a class of infants. + </p> + <p> + ‘Facts,’ Mr. Chesney explained himself, ‘are more eloquent than words. You + have seen what I could never have described to you—the contented + workers in this factory and the artistic designs of the fabrics they + weave. Many of you remember what Robeen was a few years ago—a + howling wilderness. We are told on high authority that even the wilderness + shall blossom as a rose.’ + </p> + <p> + He bowed in the direction of the Reverend Mother, possibly with a feeling + that it was suitable to acknowledge her presence when quoting Holy Writ, + possibly with a vague idea that she might consider herself a spiritual + descendant of the Prophet Isaiah. ‘You see it now a hive of happy + industry.’ + </p> + <p> + He observed with pleasure that the reporters were busy with their + note-books, and he knew that these editors of public utterance might be + relied on to unravel a tangled metaphor before publishing a speech. He + went on light-heartedly, confident that in the next day’s papers his + wilderness would blossom into something else, and that the hive, if it + appeared at all, would be arrived at by some other process than + blossoming. The habit of rolling out agreeable platitudes to audiences + forced to listen is one which grows on public men as dram-drinking does on + the common herd. Mr. Chesney was evidently enjoying himself, and there + seemed no reason why he should ever stop. He could, and perhaps would, + have gone on for hours but for the offensive way in which Judge Saunders + snapped the case of his watch at the end of every period. There was really + no hurry, for the special train which was to bring them back to Dublin + would certainly wait until they were ready for it. Mr. Chesney felt + aggrieved at the repeated interruption, and closed his speech without + giving the audience the benefit of his peroration. + </p> + <p> + The Judge came next, and began with reminding his hearers that he was + known as ‘Satan Saunders.’ An account of the origin of the name followed, + and was enjoyed even by those who had listened to the Judge’s oratory + before, and therefore knew the story. There was something piquant, almost + <i>risqué</i>, in the constant repetition of a really wicked word like + ‘Satan’ in the halls of a nunnery. The audience laughed reassuringly, and + the Judge went on to supply fresh pabulum for mirth by suggesting that the + Reverend Mother should clothe her nuns in their own tweeds. He was + probably right in supposing that the new costumes would add a gaiety to + the religious life. Other jests followed, and he sat down amid a flutter + of applause after promising that when he next presided over the Winter + Assizes in a draughty court-house he would send for a Robeen blanket and + wrap his legs in it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clifford, who followed the Judge, began by wondering whether anyone + present had ever been in Lancashire. After a pause, during which no one + owned to having crossed the Channel, he said that Lancashire was the home + of the modern factory. There every man and woman earned good wages, wore + excellent clothes, and lived in a house fitted with hot and cold water + taps and a gas-meter. It was his hope to see Mayo turned into another + Lancashire. When ladies of undoubted commercial ability, like the Lady + Abbess who presided over the Robeen convent—Lady Abbess sounded + well, and Mr. Clifford was not strong on ecclesiastical titles—took + the matter up, success was assured. All that was required for the + development of the factory system in Mayo was capital, and that ‘we, the + Congested Districts Board, are in a position to supply.’ With the help of + some prompting from Mr. Davis, he proceeded to lay before the audience a + few figures purporting to explain the Board’s expenditure. + </p> + <p> + Professor Cairns was evidently anxious to follow Mr. Clifford, if only in + the humble capacity of the proposer of a vote of thanks. But his name was + not on the programme, and Mr. Chesney was already engaged in a whispered + conversation with the Reverend Mother. Ignoring the professor, almost + rudely, he announced that the company in general was invited to tea in the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + The refreshments provided, if not substantial, were admirable in quality. + There happened just then to be a young lady engaged, at the expense of the + County Council, in teaching cookery in a neighbouring convent. She was + sent over to Robeen for the occasion, and made a number of delightful + cakes at extremely small expense. The workers in the factory had given the + butter she required as a thank-offering, and the necessary eggs came from + another convent where the nuns, with financial assistance from the + Congested Districts Board, kept a poultry-farm. The Reverend Mother + dispensed her hospitality with the same air of generosity with which Mr. + Clifford had spoken of providing capital for the future ecclesiastical + factories. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + The Reverend Mother bowed out the last of her guests, and retired to her + own room well satisfied. She was assured of further support from the + Congested Districts Board, and certain debts which had grown uncomfortably + during her struggle with Mr. Quinn need trouble her no longer. Her goods + would be extensively advertised next morning in the daily press. Her house + would obtain a celebrity likely to attract the most eligible novices—those, + that is to say, who would bring the largest sums of money as their + dowries. There arose before her mind a vision of almost unbounded wealth + and all that might be done with it. What statues of saints might not Italy + supply! French painters and German organ-builders would compete for the + privilege of furnishing the chapel of her house. Already she foresaw + pavements of gorgeous mosaic, windows radiant with Munich glass, and store + of vestments to make her sacristy famous. Grandiose plans suggested + themselves of founding daughter houses in Melbourne, in Auckland, in + Capetown, in Natal. All things were possible to a well-filled purse. She + saw how her Order might open schools in English towns, where girls could + be taught French, Italian, Latin, music, all the accomplishments dear to + middle-class parents, at ridiculously low fees, or without fees at all. + She stirred involuntarily at the splendour of her visions. The day’s + weariness dropped off from her. She rose from her chair and went into the + chapel. She prostrated herself before the altar, and lay passive in a glow + of warm emotion. For God, for the Mother of God, for the Catholic Church, + she had laboured and suffered and dared. Now she was well within sight of + the end, the golden reward, the fulfilment of hopes that had never been + altogether selfish. + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts, sanctified now by the Presence on the altar, drifted out + again on to the shining sea of the future. What she, a humble nun, had + done others would do. A countless army of missionary men and women + marching from the Irish shore would conquer the world’s conquerors, regain + for the Church the Anglo-Saxon race. Once in the far past Irish men and + women had Christianized Europe, and Ireland had won her glorious title, + ‘Island of Saints.’ Now the great day was to dawn again, the great race to + be reborn. For this end had Ireland been kept faithful and pure for + centuries, just that she might be at last the witness to the spiritual in + a materialized world. For this end had the Church in Ireland gone through + the storm of persecution, suffered the blight of the world’s contempt, + that she might emerge in the end entirely fitted for the bloodless + warfare. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I am one of the race, a daughter of Ireland. And I am a worker—nay, + one who has accomplished something—in the vineyard of the Church. + Ah, God!’ + </p> + <p> + She was swept forward on a wave of emotion. Thought ceased, expiring in + the ecstasy of a communion which transcended thought. Then suddenly, sharp + as an unexpected pain, an accusation shot across her soul, shattering the + coloured glory of the trance in an instant. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who am I that I should boast?’ + </p> + <p> + The long years of introspection, the discipline of hundreds of + heart-searching confessions, the hardly-learned lesson of self-distrust, + made it possible for her to recognise the vain-glory even with the halo of + devotion shining round it. She abased herself in penitence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me the work, my Lord; give others the glory and the fruit of it. Let + me toil, but withhold the reward from me. May my eyes not see it, lest I + be lifted up! Nay, give me not even work to do, lest I should be praised + or learn to praise myself. “Nunc dimittis servam tuam, Domine, secundum + verbum tuum in pace.”’ + </p> + <p> + There stole over her a sense of peace—numb, silent peace—wholly + unlike the satisfaction which had flooded her in her own room or during + the earlier ecstasy before the altar. She raised her eyes slowly till they + rested on the shrine where the body of the sacrifice reposed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quia viderunt oculi mei salutare tuum.’ + </p> + <p> + At last she rose. The lines of care and age gathered again upon her face. + Her eyes gleamed with keen intelligence. She braced herself with the + thought of all that might still lie before her. The advice of Iago, + strangely sanctified, clamoured in her heart—‘Put money in thy + purse.’ + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + The Reverend Mother was not the only person well satisfied with the day. + The Right Hon. T. J. Chesney leant back in his saloon-carriage, and puffed + contentedly at his cigar. It might be his part occasionally—indeed, + frequently—to talk like a fool, but the man was shrewd enough. It + really seemed that he had hit on the true method of governing Ireland. + Nationalist members of Parliament could be muzzled, not by the foolish old + methods of coercion, but by winning the goodwill of the Bishops. No Irish + member dared open his mouth when a priest bid him keep it shut, or give a + vote contrary to the wishes of the hierarchy. And the Bishops were + reasonable men. They looked at things from a point of view intelligible to + Englishmen. There was no ridiculous sentimentality about their demands. + For so much money they would silence the clamour of the Parliamentary + party; for so much more they would preach a modified loyalty, would assert + before the world that the Irish people were faithful servants of the + Sovereign; for a good lump sum down they would undertake to play ‘God Save + the King’ or ‘Rule, Britannia’ on the organ at Maynooth. Of course, the + money must be paid: Mr. Chesney was beginning to understand that, and felt + the drawback. It would have been much pleasanter and simpler if the + Bishops would have been content with promises. There was a certain + difficulty in obtaining the necessary funds without announcing precisely + what they were for. But, after all, a man cannot be called a great + statesman without doing something to deserve the title, and British + statesmanship is the art of hoodwinking the taxpayer. That is all—not + too difficult a task for a clever man. Mr. Chesney reckoned on no power in + Ireland likely to be seriously troublesome. The upper classes were either + helpless and sulking, or helpless and smiling artificially. They might + grumble in private or try to make themselves popular by joining the chorus + of the Church’s flatterers. Either way their influence was inconsiderable. + Was there anyone else worth considering? The Orangemen were still a noisy + faction, but their organization appeared to be breaking up. They were more + bent on devouring their own leaders than interfering with him. There were + a number of people anxious to revive the Irish language, who at one time + had caused him some little uneasiness. He had found it quite impossible to + understand the Gaelic League, and, being an Englishman, arrived gradually + at the comfortable conclusion that what he could not understand must be + foolish. Now, he had great hopes that the Bishops might capture the + movement. + </p> + <p> + If once it was safely under the patronage of the Church, he had nothing + more to fear from it. No doubt, resolutions would be passed, but + resolutions——— Mr. Chesney smiled. There were, of + course, the impossible people connected with the <i>Croppy</i>. Mr. + Chesney did not like them, and in the bottom of his heart was a little + nervous about them. They seemed to be very little afraid of the authority + of the Church, and he doubted if the authority of the state would frighten + them at all. Still, there were very few of them, and their abominable + spirit of independence was spreading slowly, if at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘They won’t,’ he said to himself, ‘be of any importance for some years to + come, at all events, and five years hence——’ + </p> + <p> + In five years Mr. Chesney hoped to be Prime Minister, or perhaps to have + migrated to the House of Lords, At least, he expected to be out of + Ireland, Meanwhile, he lighted a fresh cigar. The condition of the country + was extremely satisfactory, and his policy was working out better than he + had hoped. + </p> + <p> + The other travellers by the special train were equally well pleased, + Ireland, so they understood Mr. Chesney, was to be made happy and + contented, peaceful and prosperous. It followed that there must be Boards + under the control of Dublin Castle—more and more Boards, an endless + procession of them. There is no way devised by the wit of man for securing + prosperity and contentment except the creation of Boards. If Boards, then + necessarily officials—officials with salaries and travelling + allowances. Nice gentlemanly men, with villas at Dalkey and Killiney, + would perform duties not too arduous in connection with the Boards, and + carry out the benevolent policy of the Government. There was not a man in + the train, except the newspaper reporters, who did not believe in the + regeneration of Ireland by Boards, and everyone hoped to take a share in + the good work, with the prospect of a retiring pension afterwards. + </p> + <p> + The local magnates—with the exception of Sir Gerald Geoghegan, whose + temper had been bad from the first—also went home content. The minds + of great ladies work somewhat confusedly, for Providence, no doubt wisely, + has denied to most of them the faculty of reason. It was enough for them + to feel that the nuns were ‘sweet women,’ and that in some way not very + clear Mr. Chesney was getting the better of ‘those wretched agitators.’ + </p> + <p> + Only one of all whom the special train had brought down failed to return + in it. Mary O’Dwyer slipped out of the convent before the speeches began, + and wandered away towards the desolate stony hill where the stream which + turns the factory mill took its rise. It grieved her to miss the cup of + tea which a friendly nun had led her to expect; but even tea might be too + dearly purchased, and Miss O’Dwyer had a strong dislike to listening to + what Augusta Goold described as the ‘sugared hypocrisies of professional + liars.’ Besides, she had her cigarette-case in her pocket, and a smoke, + unattainable for her in the convent or the train, was much to be desired. + She left the road at the foot of the hill, and picked her way along the + rough bohireen which led upwards along the course of the stream. After + awhile even this track disappeared. The stream tumbled noisily over rocks + and stones, the bog-stained water glowing auburn-coloured in the sunlight. + The ling and heather were springy under her feet, and the air was sweet + with the scent of the bog-myrtle. She spied round her for a rock which + cast a shade upon the kind of heathery bed she had set her heart to find. + Her eyes lit upon a little party—a young man and two girls—encamped + with a kettle, a spirit-stove, and a store of bread-and-butter. Her + renunciation of the convent tea had not been made without a pang. She + looked longingly at the steam which already spouted from the kettle. The + young man said a few words to the girls, then stood up, raised his hat to + her, and beckoned. She approached him, wondering. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely it can’t be—I really believe it is——’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Miss O’Dwyer, it really is myself, Hyacinth Conneally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear boy, you are the last person I expected to meet, though of course + I knew you were somewhere down in these parts.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come and have some tea,’ said Hyacinth. ‘And let me introduce you to Miss + Beecher and Miss Elsie Beecher.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer took stock of the two girls. ‘They make their own clothes,’ + she thought, ‘and apparently only see last year’s fashion-plates. The + eldest isn’t bad-looking. How is it all West of Ireland girls have such + glorious complexions? Her figure wouldn’t be bad if her mother bought her + a decent pair of stays. I wonder who they are, and what they are doing + here with Hyacinth. They can’t be his sisters.’ + </p> + <p> + While they drank their tea certain glances and smiles gave her an inkling + of the truth. ‘I suppose Hyacinth is engaged to the elder one,’ she + concluded. ‘That kind of girl wouldn’t dare to make eyes at a man unless + she had some kind of right to him.’ + </p> + <p> + After tea she produced her cigarette-case. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said to Marion. ‘I know it’s very shocking, + but I’ve had a tiring day and an excellent tea, and oh, this heather is + delicious to lie on!’ She stretched herself at full length as she spoke. + ‘I really must smoke, just to arrive at perfect felicity for once in my + life. How happy you people ought to be who always have in a place like + this!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Marion, ‘it sometimes rains, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! and then these sweet spots get boggy, I suppose, and you have to wear + thick, clumping boots.’ + </p> + <p> + Her own were very neat and small, and she knew that they must obtrude + themselves on the eye while she lay prone. Elsie, whose shoes were patched + as well as thick-soled, made an ineffectual attempt to cover them with her + skirt. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Hyacinth, ‘tell us what you are doing down here. They haven’t + made you an inspectress of boarded-out workhouse children, have they? or + sent you down to improve the breed of hens?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I have spent the afternoon helping to govern + Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + Marion and Elsie gazed at her in wonder. A lady who smoked cigarettes and + bore the cares of State upon her shoulders was a novelty to them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have sat in the seats of the mighty,’ she said; ‘I have breathed the + same air as Mr. Chesney and two members of the C.D.B. Think of that! + Moreover, I might, if I liked, have drunk tea with a Duchess.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Hyacinth, ‘you were at the convent function, I suppose. I + wonder I didn’t see you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What on earth were <i>you</i> doing there? I thought you hated the nuns + and all their ways.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go on about yourself,’ said Hyacinth. ‘You are not employed by the + Government to inspect infant industries, are you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no; I was one of the representatives of the press. I have notes here + of all the beautiful clothes worn by the wives and daughters of the West + British aristocracy. Listen to this: “Lady Geoghegan was gowned in an + important creation of saffron tweed, the product of the convent looms. We + are much mistaken if this fabric in just this shade is not destined to + play a part in robing the <i>élégantes</i> who will shed a lustre on our + house-parties during the autumn.” And this—you must just listen to + this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t,’ said Hyacinth; ‘you can if you like, Marion. I’ll shut my + ears.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ said Miss O’Dwyer; ‘I’ll talk seriously. When are you coming + up to Dublin? You know my brother has taken over the editorship of the <i>Croppy</i>. + We are going to make it a great power in the country. We are coming out + with a policy which will sweep the old set of political talkers out of + existence, and clear the country of Mr. Chesney and the likes of him.’ She + waved her hand towards the convent. ‘Oh, it is going to be great. It is + great already. Why don’t you come and help us?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth looked at her. She had half risen and leaned upon her elbow. Her + face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. There was no doubt about the + genuineness of her enthusiasm. The words of her poem, long since, he + supposed, blotted from his memory, suddenly returned to him: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘O, desolate mother, O, Erin, + When shall the pulse of thy life which but flutters in Connacht + Throb through thy meadows and boglands and mountains and cities?’ +</pre> + <p> + Had it come at last, this revival of the nation’s vitality? Had it come + just too late for him to share it? + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall not help you,’ he said sadly; ‘I do not suppose that I ever could + have helped you much, but now I shall not even try.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at him quickly with a startled expression in her eyes. Then she + turned to Marion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you preventing him?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Hyacinth; ‘it is not Marion. But I am going away—going to + England. I am going to be ordained, to become an English curate. Do you + understand? I came here to-day to see the man who is to be my Rector, and + to make final arrangements with him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Hyacinth!’ + </p> + <p> + For some minutes she said no more. He saw in her face a wondering sorrow, + a pathetic submissiveness to an unexpected disappointment, like the look + in the face of a dog struck suddenly by the hand of a friend. He felt that + he could have borne her anger better. No doubt if he had made his + confession to Augusta Goold he would have been overwhelmed with passionate + wrath or withered by a superb contemptuous stare. Then he could have + worked himself to anger in return. But this! + </p> + <p> + ‘You will never speak to any of us again,’ she went on. You will be + ashamed even to read the <i>Croppy</i>. You will wear a long black coat + and gray gloves. You will learn to talk about the “Irish Problem” and the + inestimable advantages of belonging to a world-wide Empire, and about the + great heart of the English people. I see it all—all that will happen + to you. Your hair will get quite smooth and sleek. Then you will become a + Vicar of a parish. You will live in a beautiful house, with Virginia + creeper growing over it and plum-trees in the garden. You will have a nice + clean village for a parish, with old women who drop curtsies to you, and + men—such men! stupid as bullocks! I know it all. And you will be + ashamed to call yourself an Irishman. Oh, Hyacinth!’ + </p> + <p> + Miss O’Dwyer’s catalogue of catastrophes was curiously mixed. Perhaps the + comedy in it tended to obscure the utter degradation of the ruin she + described. But the freakish incongruity of the speech did not strike + Hyacinth. He found in it only two notes—pity that such a fate + awaited him, and contempt for the man who submitted to it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot help myself. Will you not make an effort to understand? I am + trying to do what is right.’ + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he said, ‘I know it is no use. You could not understand even if I + told you all I felt.’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes filled suddenly with tears. He heard her sob. Then she turned + without a word and left them. He stood watching her till she reached the + road and started on her walk to the railway-station. Then he took Marion’s + two hands in his, and held them fast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will <i>you</i> understand?’ he asked her. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him. Her face was all tenderness. Love shone on him—trusting, + unquestioning, adoring love, love that would be loyal to the uttermost; + but her eyes were full of a dumb wonder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + One morning near the end of September the <i>Irish Times</i> published a + list of Irish graduates ordained in England on the previous Sunday. Among + other names appeared: + </p> + <p> + ‘Hyacinth Conneally, B.A., T.C.D., deacon, by the Bishop of Ripon, for the + curacy of Kirby-Stowell.’ + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards the <i>Croppy</i> printed the following verses, signed + ‘M.O’D.‘: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘EIRE TO H. C. + + ‘Bight across the low, flat curragh from the sea, + Drifting, driving sweeps the rain, + Where the bogborn, bent, brown rushes grow for me, + Barren grass instead of grain. + + ‘Out across the sad, soaked curragh towards the sea, + Striding, striving go the men, + With their spades and forks and barrows toil for me + That my corn may grow again + + ‘Ah! but safe from blast of wind and bitter sea, + You who loved me—-Tusa féin— + Live and feel and work for others, not for me, + Never coming back again. + + ‘Yes, while all across the curragh from the West + Drifts the sea-rain off the sea, + You have chosen. Have you chosen what is best + For yourself, O son, and me?’ +</pre> + <p> + Hyacinth read the verses, cut them out of the <i>Croppy</i>, and locked + them in the box in which he stored the few papers of interest he + possessed. The sorrowful judgment pronounced on his conduct affected him, + but only in a dull way, like an additional blow upon a limb already + bruised to numbness. He accepted his new duties and performed them without + any feeling of enthusiasm, and after a little while without any definite + hope of doing any good. He got no further in understanding the people he + had to deal with, and he was aware that even those of them who came most + frequently into contact with him regarded him as a stranger. A young + doctor whose wife took a fancy to Marion tried to make friends with him. + The result was unsatisfactory, owing to Hyacinth’s irresponsiveness. He + could not, without yawning piteously, spend an evening discussing the + performances of the local cricket club; nor did his conduct improve when + the two ladies suspended their talk and sacrificed an hour to playing + four-handed halma with their husbands. An unmarried solicitor, attracted + by Marion’s beauty and friendliness, adopted the habit of calling at + Hyacinth’s little house about nine or ten o’clock in the evening. He was a + man full of anecdote and simple mirth, and he often stayed, quite happily, + till midnight. Every week he brought an illustrated paper as an offering + to Marion, and recommended the short stories in it to her notice. He + often asked Hyacinth’s advice and help in solving the conundrums set by + the prize editor. He took a mild interest in politics, and retailed gossip + picked up at the Conservative Club. After a while he gave up coming to the + house. Hyacinth blamed himself for being cold and unfriendly to the man. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Austin treated Hyacinth with kindness and some consideration, much as + a wise master treats an upper servant. He was anxious that his curate + should perform many and complicated ceremonies in church, was seriously + intent on the wearing of correctly-coloured stoles, and ‘ran,’ as he + expressed it himself, a very large number of different organizations, of + each of which the objective appeared to be a tea-party in the parochial + hall. Hyacinth accepted his tuition, bowed low at the times when Mr. + Austin liked to bow, watched for the seasons when stoles bloomed white and + gold, changed to green, or faded down to violet. He tried to make himself + agreeable to the ‘united mothers’ and the rest when they assembled for + tea-drinking. Mr. Austin asserted that these were the methods by which the + English people were being taught the Catholic faith. Hyacinth did not + doubt it, nor did he permit himself to wonder whether it was worth while + teaching them. + </p> + <p> + To Marion the new life was full of many delights. The surpliced choir-boys + gratified her aesthetic sense, and she entered herself as one of a band of + volunteers who scrubbed the chancel tiles and polished a brass cross. She + smiled, kissed, and petted Hyacinth out of the fits of depression which + came on him, managed his small income with wonderful skill, and wrote + immensely long letters home to Ballymoy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + It is very hard for a poor man to travel from one side of England to the + other side of Ireland, because railway companies, even when, to allure the + public, they advertise extraordinary excursions, charge a great deal for + their tickets. The journey becomes still more difficult of accomplishment + when the poor man is married. Then there are two tickets to be bought, and + very likely most of the money which might have bought them has been spent + securing the safe arrival of a baby—a third person who in due time + will also require a railway-ticket. This was Hyacinth’s case. For two + summers he had no holiday at all, and it was only by the most fortunate of + chances that he found himself during the third summer in a position to go + to Ballymoy. He sublet his house to a freshly-arrived supervisor of Inland + Revenue, who wanted six weeks to look about for a suitable residence. With + the nine pounds paid in advance by this gentleman, Hyacinth and Marion, + having with them their baby, a perambulator, and much other luggage, set + off for Ballymoy. + </p> + <p> + The journey is not a very pleasant one, because it is made over the lines + of three English railway companies, whose trains refuse to connect with + each other at junctions, and because St. George’s Channel is generally + rough. The discomfort of third-class carriages is more acutely felt when + the Irish shore is reached, but the misery of having to feed and tend a + year-old child lasts the whole journey through. Therefore, Marion arrived + in Dublin dishevelled, weary, and, for all her natural placidness, + inclined to be cross. The steamer came to port at an hour which left them + just the faint hope of catching the earliest train to Ballymoy. + Disappointment followed the nervous strain of a rush across Dublin. Two + long hours intervened before the next train started, and the people who + keep the refreshment-room in Broadstone Station are not early risers. + Marion, without tea or courage, settled herself and the baby in the + draughty waiting-room. + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth was also dishevelled, dirty, and tired, having borne his full + share of strife with the child’s worst moods. But the sight of Ireland + from the steamer’s deck filled him with a strange sense of exultation. He + wished to shout with gladness when the gray dome of the Custom House rose + to view, immense above the low blanket of mist. Even the incredibly + hideous iron grating of the railway viaduct set his pulse beating + joyfully. He drew deep breaths, inhaling various abominable smells + delightedly. The voices of the sleepy porters on the quay roused in him a + craving for the gentle slovenliness of Irish speech. He fussed and hustled + Marion beyond the limits of her endurance, pretending eagerness to catch + the early train, caring in reality not at all whether any train were + caught or missed, filled only with a kind of frenzy to keep moving somehow + further into Ireland. In the cab he gave utterance to ridiculous + pleasantries. He seized the child from Marion, and held him, wailing + piteously, half out of the window, that his eyes might rest on the great + gilt characters which adorn the offices of the Gaelic League. It was with + rapture that he read Irish names, written and spelt in Irish, above the + shops, and saw a banner proclaiming the annual festival of Irish Ireland + hanging over the door of the Rotunda. The city had grown more Irish since + he left it. There was no possibility now, even in the early morning, with + few people but scavengers and milkmen in the streets, of mistaking for an + English town. + </p> + <p> + While Marion sat torpid in the waiting-room, he paced the platform eagerly + from end to end. He saw the train pushed slowly into position beside the + platform, watched porters sweep the accumulated débris of yesterday’s + traffic from the floors of the carriages, and rub with filthy rags the + brass doorhandles. Little groups of passengers began to arrive—first + a company of cattle-jobbers, four of them, red-faced men with keen, crafty + eyes, bound for some Western fair; then a laughing party of tourists, + women in short skirts and exaggeratedly protective veils, men with fierce + tweed knickerbockers dragging stuffed hold-alls and yellow bags. These + were evidently English. Their clear high-pitched voices proclaimed + contempt for their surroundings, and left no doubt of their nationality. + One of them addressed a bewildered porter in cheerful song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Are you right there, + Michael? are you right? + Have you got the parcel there for Mrs. White?’ +</pre> + <p> + He felt, and his companions sympathized, that he was entering into the + spirit of Irish life. Then, heralded by an obsequious guard, came a great + man, proconsular in mien and gait. Bags and rugs were wheeled beside him. + In his hand was a despatch-box bearing the tremendous initials of the + Local Government Board. He took complete possession of a first-class + smoking carriage, scribbled a telegram, perhaps of international + importance, handed it to the guard for instant despatch, and lit a + finely-odorous cigar. Hyacinth, humbled by the mere view of this + incarnation of the Imperial spirit, went meekly to the waiting-room to + fetch Marion and his child. He led them across the now crowded platform + towards a third-class carriage. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not go with you in your first-class carriage, Father Lavelle; so + that’s flat. Nor I won’t split the difference and go second either, if + that’s what you’re going to propose to me. Is it spend what would keep the + family of a poor man in bread and tea for a week, for the sake of easing + my back with a cushion? Get away with you. The plain deal board’s good + enough for me. And, moreover, I doubt very much if I’ve the money to do + it, if I were ever so willing. I’m afraid to look into my purse to count + the few coppers that’s left in it after paying that murdering bill in the + hotel you took me to. Gresham, indeed! A place where they’re not ashamed + to charge a poor old priest three and sixpence for his breakfast, and me + not able to eat the half of what they put before me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth turned quickly. Two priests stood together near the bookstall. + The one, a young man, handsome and well-dressed, he did not know. The + other he recognised at once. It seemed to be the same familiarly shabby + black coat which he wore, the same many-stained waistcoat, the identical + silk hat, ruffled and rain-spotted. The same pads of flesh hung flaccid + from his jaws; the red, cracked knuckles of his hands, well remembered, + were enormous still. Only the furrows on the face seemed to be ploughed + deeper and wider, and a few more stiff hairs curled over the general + bushiness of the grizzled eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father Moran!’ cried Hyacinth. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am Father Moran. You’re right there. But who <i>you</i> are or how you + come to know me is more than I can tell. But wait a minute. I’ve a sort of + recollection of your voice. Will you speak to me again, and maybe I’ll be + able to put a name on you.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth said a few words rapidly in Irish. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have you now,’ said the priest. ‘You’re Hyacinth Conneally, the boy + that went out to fight for the Boers. Father Lavelle, this is a friend of + mine that I’ve known ever since he was born, and I haven’t laid eyes on + him these six years or more. You’re going West, Mr. Conneally? But of + course you are. Where else would you be going? We’ll travel together and + talk. If it’s second-class you’re going, Father Lavelle will have to lend + me the money to pay the extra on my ticket, so as I can go with you. + Seemingly it’s a Protestant minister you’ve grown into. Well now, who’d + have thought it? And you so set on fighting the battle of Armageddon and + all. It’s a come-down for you, so it is. But never mind. You might have + got yourself killed in it. There’s many a one killed or maimed for life in + smaller fights than it. It’s better to be a minister any day than a corpse + or a cripple. And as you are a minister, it’s likely to be third-class + you’re travelling. Times are changed since I was young. It was the priests + travelled third-class then, if they travelled at all, and the ministers + were cocked up on the cushions, looking down on the likes of us out of the + windows with the little red curtains half-drawn across them. Now it’ll be + Father Lavelle there, with his grand new coat that he says is Irish + manufacture—but I don’t believe him—who’ll be doing the + gentleman. But come along, Mr. Conneally—come along, and tell me all + the battles you fought and the Generals you made prisoners of, and how it + was you took to preaching afterwards.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, somewhat shyly, introduced the priest to Marion. Then a + ticket-collector drove them into their carriage and locked the door. + </p> + <p> + Father Moran began to catechize Hyacinth before the train started, and + drew from him, as they went westwards, the story of his disappointments, + doubts, hopes, veerings, and final despair. Hyacinth spoke unwillingly at + first, giving no more than necessary answers to the questions. Then, + because he found that reticence called down on him fresh and more detailed + inquiries, and also because the priest’s evident and sympathetic interest + redeemed a prying curiosity from offensiveness, he told his tale more + freely. Very soon there was no more need of questioning, and Father + Moran’s share in the talk took the form of comments interrupting a + narrative. + </p> + <p> + Of Captain Albert Quinn he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve heard of him, and a nice kind of a boy he seems to have been. I + suppose he fought when he got there. He’s just the sort that would be + splendid at the fighting. Well, God is good, and I suppose it’s to do the + fighting for the rest of us that He makes the likes of Captain Quinn. Did + you hear that they wanted to make him a member of Parliament? Well, they + did. Nothing less would please them. But what good would that be, when he + couldn’t set foot in the country for fear of being arrested?’ + </p> + <p> + Later on he was moved to laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘To think of your going on the road with a bag full of blankets and + shawls! I never heard of such a thing, and all the grand notions your head + was full of! Why didn’t you come my way? I’d have made Rafferty give you + an order. I’d have bought the makings of a frieze coat from you myself—I + would, indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + Afterwards he became grave again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t let you say the hard word about the nuns, Mr. Conneally. Don’t do + it, now. There’s plenty of good convents up and down through the country—more + than ever you’ll know of, being the black Protestant you are. And the ones + that ruined your business—supposing they did ruin it, and I’ve only + your word for that—what right have you to be blaming them? They were + trying to turn an honest penny by an honest trade, and that’s just what + you and your friend Mr. Quinn were doing yourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth, conscious of a failure in good taste, shifted his ground, only + to be interrupted again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you may abuse the Congested Districts Board to your heart’s content. + I never could see what the Government made all the Boards for unless it + was to keep the people out of mischief. As long as there is a Board of any + kind about the country every blackguard will be so busy throwing stones at + it that he won’t have time nor inclination left to annoy decent people. + And I’ll say this for the Congested Districts Board: they mean well. + Indeed they do; not a doubt of it. There’s one good thing they did, + anyway, if there isn’t another, and that’s when they came to Carrowkeel + and bought the big Curragh Farm that never supported a Christian, but two + herds and some bullocks ever since the famine clearances. They fetched the + people down off the mountains and put them on it. Wasn’t that a good + thing, now? Sure, all Government Boards do more wrong than right. It’s the + nature of that sort of confederation. But it’s all the more thankful we + ought to be when once in a while they do something useful.’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth came to tell of the choice which Canon Beecher offered him, and + dwelt with tragic emphasis on his own decision. The priest listened, a + smile on his lips, a look of pity which belied the smile in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you thought Ireland would be lost altogether unless you wrote articles + for Miss Goold in the <i>Croppy?</i> It’s no small opinion you have of + yourself, Hyacinth Conneally. And you thought you’d save your soul by + going to preach the Gospel to the English people? Was that it, now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was not,’ said Hyacinth, ‘and you know it wasn’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it wasn’t. What was I thinking of to forget the young lady that + was in it? A fine wife you’ve got, any way. God bless her, and make you a + good husband to her! By the looks of her she’s better than you deserve. I + suppose it was to get money you went to England, so as to buy her pretty + dresses and a beautiful house to live in? Did you think you’d grow rich + over there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed I did not,’ said Hyacinth bitterly. ‘I knew we’d never be rich.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, couldn’t you as well have been poor in Ireland? And better, + for everybody’s poor here. But there, I know well enough it wasn’t money + you were after. Don’t be getting angry with me, now. It wasn’t for the + sake of saving your soul you went, nor to get your nice wife, though a man + might go a long way for the likes of her. I don’t know why you went, and + it’s my belief you don’t know yourself. But you made a mistake, whatever + you did it for, going off on that English mission. Is it a mission you + call it when you’re a Protestant? I don’t think it is, but it doesn’t + matter. You made a mistake. Why don’t you come back again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘God knows I would if I could. It’s hungry I am to get back—just + sick with hunger and the great desire that is on me to be back again in + Ireland.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what’s to hinder you? Let me tell you this: There’s been four men + in your father’s place since he died. Never a one of the first three would + stay. They tell me the pay’s small, and the place is desolate to them for + the want of Protestants, there being none, you may say, but the + coastguards. After the third of them left it was long enough before they + got the fourth. I hear they went scouring and scraping round the four + coasts of the country with a trawl-net trying to get a man. And now + they’ve got him he’s all for going away. He says there’s no work to do, + and no people to preach to. But you’d find work, if you were there. I’d + find you work myself—work for the people you knew since you were + born, that’s in the way at last of getting to be the men and women they + were meant to be, and that wants all the help can be got for them. Why + don’t you come back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, Father Moran, I would if I could.’ ‘If you could! What’s the use + of talking? Isn’t your wife’s father a Canon? And wouldn’t that professor + in the college that you used to tell me of do something for you? What’s + the good of having fine friends like that if they won’t get you sent to a + place like Carrowkeel, that never another minister but yourself would as + much as eat his dinner in twice if he could help it?’ + </p> + <p> + Hyacinth glanced doubtfully at Marion. The child lay quiet in her arms. + She slept uncomfortably. It was clear that she had not cared to listen to + the conversation of the two men. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hyacinth, by George A. Birmingham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HYACINTH *** + +***** This file should be named 10538-h.htm or 10538-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/5/3/10538/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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