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diff --git a/16017-h/16017-h.htm b/16017-h/16017-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d4d043 --- /dev/null +++ b/16017-h/16017-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6650 @@ +<?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> + <title> + Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry, Part 6 by William Carleton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; 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; } + .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 The Poor Scholar, by William Carleton + +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: The Poor Scholar + Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of + William Carleton, Volume Three + +Author: William Carleton + +Illustrator: M. L. Flanery + +Release Date: June 7, 2005 [EBook #16017] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOR SCHOLAR *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + TRAITS AND STORIES OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + BY WILLIAM CARLETON + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PART VI + </h2> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page1099.jpg" alt="Frontispiece " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/titlepage.jpg" alt="Titlepage " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + List of Illustrations + </h2> + <table summary=""> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> Frontispiece </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> Titlepage </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> Page 1099— Received a Rather + Vigorous Thwack on the Ear </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + THE POOR SCHOLAR. + </h2> + <p> + One day about the middle of November, in the year 18—, Dominick + M'Evoy and his son Jemmy were digging potatoes on the side of a hard, + barren hill, called Esker Dhu. The day was bitter and wintry, the men were + thinly clad, and as the keen blast swept across the hill with considerable + violence, the sleet-like rain which it bore along pelted into their + garments with pitiless severity. The father had advanced into more than + middle age; and having held, at a rack-rent the miserable waste of farm + which he occupied, he was compelled to exert himself in its cultivation, + despite either obduracy of soil, or inclemency of weather. This day, + however, was so unusually severe, that the old man began to feel incapable + of continuing his toil. The son bore it better; but whenever a cold rush + of stormy rain came over them, both were compelled to stand with their + sides against it, and their heads turned, so as that the ear almost rested + back upon the shoulder in order to throw the rain off their faces. Of + each, however, that cheek which was exposed to the rain and storm was + beaten into a red hue; whilst the other part of their faces was both pale + and hunger-pinched. + </p> + <p> + The father paused to take breath, and, supported by his spade, looked down + upon the sheltered inland which, inhabited chiefly by Prostestants and + Presbyterians, lay rich and warm-looking under him. + </p> + <p> + “Why, thin,” he exclaimed to the son—a lad about fifteen,—“sure + I know well I oughtn't to curse yez, anyway, you black set! an yit, the + Lord forgive me my sins, I'm almost timpted to give yez a volley, an' that + from my heart out! Look at thim, Jimmy agra—only look at the black + thieves! how warm an' wealthy they sit there in our ould possessions, an' + here we must toil till our fingers are worn to the stumps, upon this + thievin' bent. The curse of Cromwell on it!—You might as well ax the + divil for a blessin', as expect anything like a dacent crop out of it.—Look + at thim two ridges!—such a poor sthring o' praties is in it!—one + here an' one there—an' yit we must turn up the whole ridge for that + same! Well, God sind the time soon, when the right will take place, Jimmy + agra!” + </p> + <p> + “An' doesn't Pasthorini say it? Sure whin Twenty-five comes, we'll have + our own agin: the right will overcome the might—the bottomless pit + will be locked—ay, double: boulted, if St. Pettier gets the kays, + for he's the very boy that will accommodate the heretics wid a warm + corner; an' yit, faith, there's: many o' thim that myself 'ud put in a + good word for, affcher all.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, an' here's the same, Jimmy. There's Jack Stuart, an' if there's a + cool corner in hell, the same Jack will get it—an' that he may, I + pray Gor this day, an' amin. The Lord sind it to him! for he richly + desarves it. Kind, neighborly, and frindly, is he an' all belongin' to + him; an' I wouldn't be where a hard word 'ud be spoken of him, nor a dog + in connection wid the family ill-treated; for which reason may he get a + cool corner in hell, I humbly sufflicate.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Jack Taylor? Will he be cosey?” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, I doubt so—a blessed youth is Jack: yit myself 'ud hardly + wish it. He's a heerum-skeemm, divil-may-care fellow, no doubt of it, an' + laughs at the priests, which same I'm thinkin' will get him below stairs + more nor a new-milk heat, any way; but thin agin, he thrates thim dacent, + an' gives thim good dinners, an' they take all this rolliken in good part, + so that it's likely he's not in airnest in it, and surely they ought to + know best, Jimmy.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Yallow Sam?—honest Sam, that they say was born + widout a heart, an' carries the black wool in his ears, to keep out the + cries of the widows an' the orphans, that are long rotten in their graves + through his dark villany!—He'll get a snug birth!”* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This was actually said of the person alluded to—a + celebrated usurer and agent to two or three estates, + who was a little deaf, and had his ears occasionally + stuffed with black wool. +</pre> + <p> + “Yallow Sam,” replied the old man, slowly, and a dark shade of intense + hatred blackened his weather-beaten countenance, as he looked in the + direction from which the storm blew: “'twas he left us where we're + standin', Jimmy—undher this blast, that's cowldher an' bittherer nor + a step-mother's breath, this cuttin' day! 'Twas he turned us on the wide + world, whin your poor mother was risin' out of her faver. 'Twas he + squenched the hearth, whin she wasn't able to lave the house, till I + carried her in my arms into Paddy Cassidy's—the tears fallin' from + my eyes upon her face, that I loved next to God. Didn't he give our farm + to his bastard son, a purple Orangeman? Out we went, to the winds an' + skies of heaven, bekase the rich bodagh made intherest aginst us. I tould + him whin he chated me out o' my fifteen goolden guineas, that his masther, + the landlord, should hear of it; but I could never get next or near to + him, to make my complaint. Eh? A snug birth! I'm only afeard that hell has + no corner hot enough for him—but lave that to the divil himself: if + he doesn't give him the best thratement hell can afford, why I'm not + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a one o' the ould boy's so bad as they say, father; he gives it to + thim hot an' heavy, at all evints.” + </p> + <p> + “Why even if he was at a loss about Sam, depind upon it, he'd get a hint + from his betthers above, that 'ud be sarviceable.” + </p> + <p> + “They say he visits him as it is, an' that Sam can't sleep widout some one + in the room wid him. Dan Philips says the priest was there, an' had a Mass + in every room in the house; but Charley Mack tells me there's no! thruth + in it. He was advised to it, he says; but it seems the ould boy has too + strong ahoult of him, for Sam said he'd have the divil any time sooner nor + the priest, and its likest what he would say.” + </p> + <p> + “Och, och, Jimmy, avick, I'm tir'd out! We had betther give in; the day's + too hard, an' there's no use in standin' agin the weather that's in it. + Lave the ould villain to God, who he can't chate, any way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, may our curse go along wid the rest upon him, for dhrivin' us to + sich an unnatural spot as this! Hot an' heavy, into the sowl an' marrow of + him may it penethrate. An' sure that's no more than all the counthry's + wishin' him, whether or not—not to mintion the curses that's risin' + out o' the grave agin him, loud an' piercin'!” + </p> + <p> + “God knows it's not slavin' yourself on sich a day as this you'd be, only + for him. Had we kep our farm, you'd be now well an in your larnin' for a + priest—an' there 'ud be one o' the family sure to be a gintleman, + anyhow; but that's gone too, agra. Look at the smoke, how comfortable it + rises from Jack Sullivan's, where the priest has a Station to-day. 'Tisn't + fishin' for a sthray pratie he is, upon a ridge like this. But it can't be + helped; an' God's will be done! Not himself!—faix, it's he that'll + get the height of good thratement, an' can ride home, well lined, both + inside an' outside. Much good may it do him!—'tis but his right.” + </p> + <p> + The lad now paused in his turn, looked down on Jack Sullivan's comfortable + house, sheltered by a clump of trees, and certainly saw such a smoke + tossed up from the chimney, as gave unequivocal evidence of preparation + for a good dinner. He next looked “behind the wind,” with a visage made + more blank and meagre by the contrast; after which he reflected for a few + minutes, as if working up his mind to some sudden determination. The + deliberation, however, was short; he struck his open hand upon the head of + the spade with much animation, and instantly took it in both hands, + exclaiming: + </p> + <p> + “Here, father, here goes; to the divil once an' for ever I pitch slavery,” + and as he spoke, the spade was sent as far from him as he had strength to + throw it. “To the divil I pitch slavery! An' now, father, wid the help o' + God, this is the last day's work I'll ever put my hand to. There's no way + of larnin' Latin here; but off to Munster I'll start, an' my face you'll + never see in this parish, till I come home either a priest an a gintleman! + But that's not all, father dear; I'll rise you out of your distress, or + die in the struggle. I can't bear to see your gray hairs in sorrow and + poverty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jimmy—well, agra—God enable you, avourneen; 'tis a good + intintion. The divil a one o' me will turn another spadeful aither, for + this day: I'm <i>dhrookin'</i> (* dripping) wid the rain. We'll go home + an' take an air o' the fire we want it; and aftherwards we can talk about + what you're <i>on</i> (* determined) for.” + </p> + <p> + It is usual to attribute to the English and Scotch character, exclusively, + a cool and persevering energy in the pursuit of such objects as + inclination or interest may propose for attainment; whilst Irishmen are + considered too much the creatures of impulse to reach a point that + requires coolness, condensation of thought, and efforts successively + repeated. This is a mistake. It is the opinion of Englishmen and Scotchmen + who know not the Irish character thoroughly. The fact is, that in the + attainment of an object, where a sad-faced Englishman would despair, an + Irishman will, probably, laugh, drink, weep, and fight, during his + progress to accomplish it. A Scotchman will miss it, perhaps, but, having + done all that could be done, he will try another speculation. The Irishman + may miss it too; but to console himself he will break the head of any man + who may have impeded him in his efforts, as a proof that he ought to have + succeeded; or if he cannot manage that point, he will crack the pate of + the first man he meets, or he will get drunk, or he will marry a wife, or + swear a gauger never to show his face in that quarter again; or he will + exclaim, if it be concerning a farm, with a countenance full of simplicity—“God + bless your honor, long life and honor to you, sir! Sure an' 'twas but a + thrifle, anyhow, that your Reverence will make up for me another time. An' + 'tis well I know your Lordship 'ud be the last man on airth to give me the + cowld shoulder, so you would, an' I an ould residenthur on your own + father's estate, the Lord be praised for that same! An' 'tis a happiness, + an' nothjn' else, so it is, even if I payed double rint—wherein, + maybe, I'm not a day's journey from that same, manin' the double rint, + your honor; only that one would do a great deal for the honor an' glory of + livin' undher a raal gintleman—an' that's but rason.” + </p> + <p> + There is, in short, a far-sightedness in an Irishman which is not properly + understood, because it is difficult to understand it. I do not think there + is a nation on earth, whose inhabitants mix up their interest and their + feelings together more happily, shrewdly, and yet less ostensibly, than + Irishmen contrive to do. An Irishman will make you laugh at his joke, + while the object of that joke is wrapped up from you in the profoundest + mystery, and you will consequently make the concession to a certain point + of his character, which has been really obtained by a faculty you had not + penetration to discover, or, rather, which he had too much sagacity to + exhibit. Of course, as soon as your back is turned, the broad grin is on + him, and one of his cheeks is stuck out two inches beyond the other, + because his tongue is in it at your stupidity, simplicity, or folly. Of + all the national characters on this habitable globe, I verily believe that + that of the Irish is the most profound and unfathomable; and the most + difficult on which to form a system, either social, moral, or religious. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult, for example, to produce a more signal instance of + energy, system, and perseverance than that exhibited in Ireland during the + struggle for Emancipation. Was there not flattery to the dust? blarney to + the eyes? heads broken? throats cut? houses burned? and cattle houghed? + And why? Was it for the mere pleasure of blarney—of breaking heads + (I won't dispute the last point, though, because I scorn to give up the + glory of the national character),—of cutting throats—burning + houses—or houghing cattle? No; but to secure Emancipation. In + attaining that object was exemplified that Irish method of gaining a + point. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Jemmy, “to the divil I pitch slavery! I will come home able to + rise yez from your poverty, or never show my face in the parish of + Ballysogarth agin.” + </p> + <p> + When the lad's determination was mentioned to his mother and the family, + there was a loud and serious outcry against it: for no circumstance is + relished that ever takes away a member from an Irish hearth, no matter + what the nature of that circumstance may be. + </p> + <p> + “Och, thin, is it for that <i>bocaun</i> (* soft, innocent person) of a + boy to set off wid himself, runnin' through the wide world afther larnin', + widout money or friends! Avourneen, put it out of yer head. No; struggle + on as the rest of us is doin', an' maybe yell come as well off at the long + run.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, dear,” said the son, “I wouldn't wish to go agin what you'd say; + but I made a promise to myself to 'rise yez out of your poverty if I can, + an' my mind's made up on it; so don't cross me, or be the manes of my + havin' bad luck on my journey, in regard of me goin' aginst yer will, when + you know 'twould be the last thing I wish to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Let the gossoon take his way, Vara. Who knows but it was the Almighty put + the thoughts of it into his head. Pasthorini says that there will soon be + a change, an' 'tis a good skame it 'ill be to have him a <i>sogarth</i> + when the fat living will be walkin' back to their ould owners.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, an' may the Man above grant <i>that</i>, I pray Jamini this day! for + are not we harrished out of our lives, scrapin' an' scramblin' for the + black thieves, what we ought to put on our backs, an' into our own mouths. + Well, they say it's not lucky to take money from a priest, because it's + the price o' sin, an' no more it can, seein' that they want it themselves; + but I'm sure it's <i>their</i> (* The Protestant clergy) money that ought + to carry the bad luck to them, in regard of their gettin' so many bitter + curses along wid it.” + </p> + <p> + When a lad from the humblest classes resolves to go to Munster as a poor + scholar, there is but one course to be pursued in preparing his outfit. + This is by a collection at the chapel among the parishioners, to whom the + matter is made known by the priest, from the altar some Sunday previous to + his departure. Accordingly, when the family had all given their consent to + Jemmy's project, his father went, on the following day, to communicate the + matter to the priest, and to solicit his co-operation in making a + collection in behalf of the lad, on the next Sunday but one: for there is + always a week's notice given, and sometimes more, that the people come + prepared. + </p> + <p> + The conversation already detailed between father and son took place on + Friday, and on Saturday, a day on which the priest never holds a Station, + and, of course, is generally at home, Dominick M'Evoy went to his house + with the object already specified in view. The priest was at home; a truly + benevolent man, but like the worthies of his day, not over-burdened with + learning, though brimful of kindness and hospitality mixed up with + drollery and simple cunning. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Dominick!” said the priest, as Dominick entered. + </p> + <p> + “Good morrow, kindly, Sir,” replied Dominick: “I hope your Reverence is + well, and in good health.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth I am, Dominick! I hope there's nothing wrong at home; how is the + wife and children?” + </p> + <p> + “I humbly, thank your Reverence for axin'! Troth there's no rason for + complainin' in regard o' the health; sarra one o' them but's bravely, + consitherin' all things: I believe I'm the worst o' them, myself, yer + Reverence.. I'm gettin' ould, you see, an' stiff', an' wake; but that's + only in the coorse o' nathur; a man can't last always. Wait till them + that's young an' hearty now, harrows as much as I ploughed in my day, an' + they won't have much to brag of. Why, thin, but yer Reverence stands it + bravely—faix, wondherfully itself—the Lord be praised! an' it + warms my own heart to see you look so well.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Dominick. Indeed, my health, God be thanked, is very good. + Ellish,” he added, calling to an old female servant—“you'll take a + glass, Dominick, the day is cowldish—Ellish, here take the kay, and + get some spirits—the poteen, Ellish—to the right hand in the + cupboard. Indeed, my health is very good, Dominick. Father Murray says he + invies me my appetite, an' I tell him he's guilty of one of the Seven + deadly sins.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, ha!—Faix, an' Invy is one o' them sure enough; but a joke + is a joke in the mane time. A pleasant gintleman is the same Father + Murray, but yer Reverence is too deep for him in the jokin' line, for all + that. Ethen, Sir, but it's you that gave ould Cokely the keen cut about + his religion—ha, ha, ha! Myself laughed till I was sick for two days + afther it—the ould thief!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?—Did you hear that, Dominick? Are you sure that's the poteen, + Ellish? Ay, an' the best of it all was, that his pathrun, Lord Foxhunter, + was present. Come, Dominick, try that—it never seen wather. But the + best of it all was—” + </p> + <p> + —“'Well, Father Kavanagh,' said he, 'who put you into the church? + Now,' said he, 'you'll come over me wid your regular succession from St. + Peter, but I won't allow that.' + </p> + <p> + “'Why, Mr. Cokely,' says I, back to him, 'I'll giye up the succession;' + says I, 'and what is more, I'll grant that you have been called by the + Lord, and that I have not; but the Lord that called you,' says I, 'was + Lord Foxhunter.' Man, you'd tie his Lordship wid a cobweb, he laughed so + heartily. + </p> + <p> + “'Bravo, Father Kavanagh,' said he. 'Cokely, you're bale,' said he; 'and + upon my honor you must both dine with me to-day, says he—and capital + claret he keeps.” + </p> + <p> + “Your health, Father Kavanagh, an' God spare you to us! Hah! wather! Oh, + the divil a taste itself did the same stuff see! Why, thin, I think your + Reverence an' me's about an age. I bleeve. I'm a thrifle oulder; but I + don't bear it so well as you do. The family, you see, an' the childhre, + an' the cares o' the world, pull me down: throth, the same family's a + throuble to me. I wish I had them all settled safe, any way.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you intind to do with them, Dominick?” + </p> + <p> + “In throth, that's what brought me to yer Reverence. I've one boy—Jimmy—a + smart chap entirely, an' he has taken it into his head to go as a poor + scholar to Munster. He's fond o' the larnin', there's not a doubt o' that, + an' small blame to him to be sure; but then again, what can I do? He's + bint on goin', an' I'm not able to help him, poor fellow, in any shape; so + I made bould to see yer Reverence about it, in hopes that you might be + able to plan out something for him more betther nor I could do. I have the + good wishes of the neighbors, and indeed of the whole parish, let the + thing go as it may.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that, Dominick, and for the same rason well have a collection at + the three althars. I'll mintion it to them after Mass to-morrow, and let + them be prepared for Sunday week, when we can make the collection. Hut, + man, never fear; we'll get as much as will send him half-way to the + priesthood; and I'll tell you what, Dominick, I'll never be the man to + refuse giving him a couple of guineas myself.” + </p> + <p> + “May the heavenly Father bless an' keep your Reverence. I'm sure 'tis a + good right the boy has, as well as all of us, to never forget your + kindness. But as to the money—he'll be proud of your assistance the + other way, sir,—so not a penny—'tis only your good-will we + want—hem—except indeed, that you'd wish yourself to make a + piece of kindness of it to the poor boy. Oh, not a drop more, sir,—I + declare it'll be apt to get into my head. Well, well—sure an' we're + not to disobey our clargy, whether or not: so here's your health over + agin, your Reverence! an' success to the poor child that's bint on good!” + </p> + <p> + “Two guineas his Reverence is to give you from himself, Jimmy,” said the + father, on relating the success of this interview with the priest; “an' + faix I was widin one of refusin' it, for feard it might bring something + unlucky* wid it; but, thought I, on the spur, it's best to take it, any + way. We can asily put it off on some o' these black-mouthed Presbyterians + or Orangemen, by way of changin' it, an' if there's any hard fortune in + it, let them have the full benefit of it, <i>ershi misha</i>.” ( ** Say + I.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * There is a superstitious belief in some parts of + Ireland, that priests' money is unlucky; “because,” say + the people, “it is the price of sin”—alluding to + absolution. +</pre> + <p> + It is by trifles of this nature that the unreasonable though enduring + hatred with which the religious sects of Ireland look upon those of a + different creed is best known. This feeling, however, is sufficiently + mutual. Yet on both sides there is something more speculative than + practical in its nature. When they speak of each other as a distinct + class, the animosity, though abstracted, appears to be most deep; but when + they mingle in the necessary intercourse of life, it is curious to see + them frequently descend, on both sides, from the general rule to those + exceptions of good-will and kindness, which natural benevolence and mutual + obligation, together with a correct knowledge of each other's real + characters, frequently produce. Even this abstracted hatred, however, has + been the curse of our unhappy country; it has kept us too much asunder, or + when we met exhibited us to each other in our darkest and most offensive + aspects. + </p> + <p> + Dominick's conduct in the matter of the priest's money was also a happy + illustration of that mixture of simplicity and shrewdness with which an + Irishman can frequently make points meet, which superstition, alone, + without such ingenuity, would keep separate for ever. Many another man + might have refused the money from an ignorant dread of its proving + unlucky; but his mode of reasoning on the subject was satisfactory to + himself, and certainly the most ingenious which, according to his belief, + he could have adopted—that of foisting it upon a heretic. + </p> + <p> + The eloquence of a country priest, though rude, and by no means elevated, + is sometimes well adapted to the end in view, to the feelings of his + auditory, and to the nature of the subject on which he speaks. Pathos and + humor are the two levers by which the Irish character is raised or + depressed; and these are blended, in a manner too anomalous to be ever + properly described. Whoever could be present at a sermon on the Sunday + when a Purgatorian Society is to be established, would hear pathos and see + grief of the first water. It is then he would get a “nate” and glowing + description of Purgatory, and see the broad, humorous, Milesian faces, of + three or four thousand persons, of both sexes, shaped into an expression + of the most grotesque and clamorous grief. The priest, however, on + particular occasions of this nature, very shrewdly gives notice of the + sermon, and of the purpose for which it is to be preached:—if it be + grave, the people are prepared to cry; but if it be for a political, or + any other purpose not decidedly religious, there will be abundance of that + rough, blunt satire and mirth, so keenly relished by the peasantry, + illustrated, too, by the most comical and ridiculous allusions. That + priest, indeed, who is the best master of this latter faculty, is + uniformly the greatest favorite. It is no unfrequent thing to see the + majority of an Irish congregation drowned in sorrow and tears, even when + they are utterly ignorant of the language spoken; particularly in those + districts where the Irish is still the vernacular tongue. This is what + renders notice of the sermon and its purport necessary; otherwise the + honest people might be seriously at a loss whether to laugh or cry. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Elliih avourneen, gho dhe dirsha?</i>”—“Ellish, my dear, what is + he saying?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Och, musha niel eshighum, ahagur—ta sha er Purgathor, ta barlhum</i>.”—“Och, + I dunna that, jewel; I believe he's on Purgatory.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Och, och, oh—och, och, oh—oh, i, oh, i, oh!</i>” + </p> + <p> + And on understanding that Purgatory is the subject, they commence their + grief with a rocking motion, wringing their hands, and unconsciously + passing their beads through their fingers, whilst their bodies are bent + forward towards the earth. + </p> + <p> + On the contrary, when the priest gets jocular—which I should have + premised, he never does in what is announced as a solemn sermon—you + might observe several faces charged with mirth and laughter, turned, even + while beaming with this expression, to those who kneel beside them, + inquiring: + </p> + <p> + “Arrah, Barny, what is it—ha, ha, ha!—what is it he's sayin'? + The Lord spare him among us, anyhow, the darlin' of a man! Eh, Barny, you + that's in the inside the English?” This, of course is spoken in Irish. + </p> + <p> + Barny, however, is generally too much absorbed in the fun to become + interpreter just then; but as soon as the joke is nearly heard out, in + compliance with the importunity of his neighbors, he gives them a brief + hint or two, and instantly the full chorus is rung out, long, loud, and + jocular. + </p> + <p> + On the Sunday in question, as the subject could not be called strictly + religious, the priest, who knew that a joke or two would bring in many an + additional crown to Jemmy's <i>caubeen</i>,* was determined that they, + should at least have a laugh for their money. The man, besides, was + benevolent, and knew the way to the Irish heart; a knowledge which he felt + happy in turning to the benefit of the lad in question. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Such collections were generally made in hats—the + usual name for an Irish peasant's hat being—<i>caubeen</i>. +</pre> + <p> + With this object in view, he addressed the people somewhat in the + following language: “'<i>Blessed is he that giveth his money to him that + standeth in need of it.</i>'” + </p> + <p> + “These words, my brethren, are taken from St. Paul, who, among ourselves, + knew the value of a friend in distress as well as any other apostle in the + three kingdoms—hem. It's a nate text, my friends, anyhow. He manes, + however, when we have it to give, my own true, well-tried, ould friends!—when + we have it to give. It's absence althers the case, in toto; because you + have all heard the proverb—'there is no takin' money out of an empty + purse:' or, as an ould ancient author said long ago upon the same subject: + </p> + <p> + 'Cantabit whaekuus coram lathrone whiathur!' + </p> + <p> + —(Dshk, dshk, dshk*—that's the larnin'!)—He that carries + an empty purse may fwhistle at the thief. It's <i>sing</i> in the Latin; + but sing or fwhistle, in my opinion, he that goes wid an empty purse + seldom sings or fwhistl'es to a pleasant tune. Melancholy music I'd call + it, an' wouldn't, may be, be much asthray al'ther—Hem. At all + evints, may none of this present congregation, whin at their devotions, + ever sing or fwhistle to the same time! No; let it be to 'money in both + pockets,' if you sing at all; and as long as you have that, never fear but + you'll also have the 'priest in his boots' into the bargain—(“Ha, + ha, ha!—God bless him, isn't he the pleasant gentleman, all out—ha, + ha, ha!—moreover, an' by the same a token, it's thrue as Gospel, so + it is,”)—for well I know you're the high-spirited people, who + wouldn't see your priest without them, while a fat parson, with + half-a-dozen chins upon him, red and rosy, goes about every day in the + week bogged in boots, like a horse-trooper!—(“Ha, ha, ha!—good, + Father Dan! More power to you—ha, ha, ha! We're the boys that + wouldn't see you in want o' them, sure enough. Isn't he the droll + crathur?”) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This sound, which expresses wonder, is produced by + striking the tip of the tongue against the palate. +</pre> + <p> + “But suppose a man hasn't money, what is he to do? Now this divides itself + into what is called Hydrostatics an' Metaphuysics, and must be proved + logically in the following manner: + </p> + <p> + “First, we suppose him not to have the money—there I may be wrong or + I may be right; now for the illustration and the logic. + </p> + <p> + “Pether Donovan.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, your Reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Pether, if I suppose you to have no money, am I right, or am I + wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, thin, I'd be sarry to prove your Reverence to be wrong, so I would; + but, for all that, I believe I must give it aginst you.” + </p> + <p> + “How much have you got, Pether?” + </p> + <p> + “Ethen, but 'tis your Reverence that's comin' close upon me; two or three + small note an' some silver.” + </p> + <p> + “How much silver, Pether?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell your Reverence in a jiffy—I ought to have a ten shillin', + barring the price of a quarther o' tobaccy that I bought at the + crass-roads boyant. Nine shillins an' somo hapuns, yer Reverence.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, Pether, you must hand me the silver, till I give the rest of + the illustration wid it.” + </p> + <p> + “But does your Reverence mind another ould proverb?—'a fool an' his + money's asy parted.' Sure an' I know you're goin' to do a joke upon me.” + </p> + <p> + (“Give him the money, Pether,” from a hundred voices—“give his + Reverence the money, you nager you—give him the silver, you dirty + spalpeen you—hand it out, you misert.”) + </p> + <p> + “Pether, if you don't give it dacently, I'll not take it; and in that case—” + </p> + <p> + “Here, here, your Reverence—here it is; sure I wouldn't have your + ill-will for all I'm worth.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you nager, if I wasn't the first orathor livin', barrin' Cicero or + Demosthenes himself, I couldn't schrew a penny out o' you! Now, Pether, + there's a specimen of logic for you; an' if it wasn't good, depind upon it + the money would be in your pocket still. I've never known you to give a + penny for any charitable purpose, since ever I saw your face: but I'm + doin' a good action in your behalf for once; so if you have any movin' + words to say to the money in question, say them, for you'll never finger + it more.” + </p> + <p> + A burst of the most uproarious mirth followed this manoeuvre, in which the + simple priest himself joined heartily; whilst the melancholy of Peter's + face was ludicrously contrasted with the glee which characterized those + who surrounded him. + </p> + <p> + “Hem!—Secondly—A man, you see, may have money, or he may not, + when his follow creature who stands in need of it makes an appale to his + dacency and his feelings; and sorry I'd be to think that there's a man + before me, or a woman either, who'd refuse to assist the distresses of any + one, of any creed, church, or persuasion, whether white, black, or yallow—no; + I don't except even the blue-bellies themselves. It's what I never taught + you, nor never will tache you to the day of my death! To be sure, a + fellow-creature may say, 'Help me, my brother, I am distressed,' or, 'I am + bent on a good purpose, that your kindness can enable me to accomplish.' + But suppose that you have not the money about you at the time, wouldn't + you feel sorry to the back-bone? Ay, would yez—to the very core of + the heart itself. Or if any man—an' he'd be' nothing else than a + bodagh that would say it—if any man would tell me that you would + not, I'd—yes—I'd give him his answer, as good as I gave to + ould Cokely long ago, and you all know what that was. + </p> + <p> + “The next point is, what would you do if you hadn't it about you? It's + that can tell you what you'd do:—you'd say, 'I haven't got it, + brother,'—for ev'ry created bein' of the human kind is your brother, + barrin' the women, an' they are your sisters—[this produced a grin + upon many faces]—'but,' says you, 'if you wait a bit for a day or + two, or a week, or maybe for a fortnight, I'll try what I can do to help + you.' + </p> + <p> + “Picture to yourselves a fellow-creature in distress—suppose him to + have neither hat, shoe, nor stocking—[this was a touch of the + pathetic]—and altogether in a state of utter destitution! Can there + be a more melancholy picture than this? No, there can't. But 'tisn't the + tithe of it!—a barefaced robbery is the same tithe—think of + him without father, mother, or friend upon the earth—both dead, and + ne'er another to be had for love or money—maybe he has poor health—maybe + he's sick, an' in a sthrange country—[here Jemmy's mother and + friends sobbed aloud, and the contagion began to spread]—the priest, + in fact, knew where to touch—his face is pale—his eyes sunk + with sickness and sorrow in his head—his bones are cuttin' the skin—he + knows not where to turn himself—hunger and sickness are strivin' for + him.—[Here the grief became loud and general, and even the + good-natured preacher's own voice got somewhat unsteady.]—He's in a + bad state entirely—miserable! more miserable!! most miserable!!! + [och, och, oh!] sick, sore, and sorry!—he's to be pitied, felt for, + and compassionated!—[a general outcry!]—'tis a faver he has, + or an ague, maybe, or a rheumatism, or an embargo (* lumbago, we presume) + on the limbs, or the king's evil, or a consumption, or a decline, or God + knows but it's the falling sickness—[ooh, och, oh!—och, och, + oh!] from the whole congregation, whilst the simple old man's eyes were + blinded with tears at the force of the picture he drew.—[Ay, maybe + it's the falling-sickness, and in that case how on earth can he stand it.—He + can't, he can't, wurra strew, wurra strew!—och, och, oh!—ogh, + ogh, ogh!]—The Lord in heaven look down upon him—[amin, amin, + this blessed an' holy Sunday that's in it!—och, oh!]—pity him—[amin, + amin!—och, och, an amin!]—with miseracordial feeling and + benediction! He hasn't a rap in his company!—moneyless, friendless, + houseless, an' homeless! Ay, my friends, you all have homes—but he + has none! Thrust back by every hard-hearted spalpeen, and he, maybe, a + better father's son than the Turk that refuses him! Look at your own + childre, my friends! Bring the case home to yourselves! Suppose he was one + of them—alone on the earth, and none to pity him in his sorrows! + Your own childre, I say, in a strange land.—[Here the outcry became + astounding; men, women, and children in one general uproar of grief.]—An'—this + may all be Jemmy M'Evoy's case, that's going in a week or two to Munster, + as a poor scholar—may be his case, I say, except you befriend him, + and show your dacency and your feelings, like Christians and Catholics; + and for either dacency or kindness, I'd turn yez against any other + congregation in the diocess, or in the kingdom—ay, or against + Dublin, itself, if it was convanient, or in the neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + Now here was a coup de main—not a syllable mentioned about Jemmy + M'Evoy, until he had melted them down, ready for the impression, which he + accordingly made to his heart's content. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” he went on, “an' 'tis the parish of Ballysogarth that has the name, + far and near, for both, and well they desarve it. You won't see the poor + gossoon go to a sthrange country—with empty pockets. He's the son of + an honest man—one of yourselves; and although he's a poor man, you + know 'twas Yallow Sam that made him so—that put him out of his + comfortable farm and slipped a black-mouth * into it. You won't turn your + backs on the son in regard of that, any way. As for Sam, let him pass; + he'll not grind the poor, nor truckle to the rich, when he gives up his + stewardship in the kingdom come. Lave him to the friend of the poor—to + his God; but the son of them that he oppressed, you will stand up for. + He's going to Munster, to learn 'to go upon the Mission:' and, on Sunday + next, there will be a collection made here, and at the other two althars + for him; and, as your own characters are at stake, I trust it will be + neither mane nor shabby. There will be Protestants here, I'll engage, and + you must act dacently before them, if it was only to set them a good + example. And now I'll tell yez a story that the mintion of the Protestants + brings to my mind:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In the North of Ireland the word black-mouth means a + Presbyterian. +</pre> + <p> + “There was, you see, a Protestant man and a Catholic woman once married + together. The man was a swearing, drinking, wicked rascal, and his wife + the same: between them they were a blessed pair to be sure. She never bent + her knee under a priest until she was on her death-bed; nor was he known + ever to enter a church door, or to give a shilling in charity but once, + that being—as follows:—He was passing a Catholic place of + worship one Sunday, on his way to fowl—for he had his dog and gun + with him;—'twas beside a road, and many of the congregration were + kneeling out across the way. Just as he passed they were making a + collection for a poor scholar—and surely they that love the larning + desarve to be encouraged! Well, behold you, says one of them, 'will you + remember the poor scholar,' says he, 'and put something in the hat? You + don't know,' says he, 'but his prayers will be before you.' (* In the + other world.) 'True enough, maybe,' says the man, 'and there's a crown to + him, for God's sake.' Well and good; the man died, and so did the wife; + but the very day before her departure, she got a scapular, and died in it. + She had one sister, however, a good crature, that did nothing but fast and + pray, and make her sowl. This woman had strong doubts upon her mind, and + was very much troubled as to whether or not her sister went to heaven; and + she begged it as a favor from the blessed Virgin, that the state of her + sister's sowl might be revaled to her. Her prayer was granted. One night, + about a week after her death, her sister came back to her, dressed, all in + white, and circled round by a veil of glory. + </p> + <p> + “'Is that Mary?' said the living sister. + </p> + <p> + “'It is,' said the other; 'I have got liberty to appear to you,' says she, + 'and to tell you that I'm happy.' + </p> + <p> + “'May the holy Virgin be praised!' said the other. 'Mary, dear, you have + taken a great weight off of me,' says she: 'I thought you'd have a bad + chance, in regard of the life you led.' + </p> + <p> + “'When I died,' said the spirit, 'and was on my way to the other world, I + came to a place where the road divided itself into three parts;—one + to heaven, another to hell, and a third to purgatory. There was a dark + gulf between me and heaven, and a breach between me and purgatory that I + couldn't step across, and if I had missed my foot there, I would have + dropped into hell. So I would, too, only that the blessed Virgin put my + own scapular over the breach, and it became firm, and I stepped on it, and + got over. The Virgin then desired me to look into hell, and the first + person I saw was my own husband, standing with a green sod under his feet! + 'He got that favor,' said the blessed Virgin, 'in consequence of the + prayers of a holy priest, that had once been a poor scholar, that he gave + assistance to, at a collection made for him in such a chapel,' says she, + 'Then,' continued the sowl, 'Mary,' says she, 'but there's some great + change in the world since I died, or why would the people live so long? It + can't be less than six thousand years since I departed, and yet I find + every one of my friends just as I left them.' + </p> + <p> + “'Why,' replied the living sister, 'you're only six days dead.' + </p> + <p> + “'Ah, avourneen!' said the other, 'it can't be—it can't be! for I + have been thousands on thousands of years in pain!'—and as she spoke + this she disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Now there's a proof of the pains of purgatory, where one day seems as + long as a thousand years; and you know we oughtn't to grudge a thrifle to + a fellow-crature, that we may avoid it. So you see, my friends, there's + nothing like good works. You know not when or where this lad's prayers may + benefit you. If he gets ordained, the first mass he says will be for his + benefactors; and in every one he celebrates after that, they must also be + remembered: the words are <i>pro omnibus benefactoribus meis, per omnia + secula secularum!</i> + </p> + <p> + “Thirdly—hem—I now lave the thing to yourselves. + </p> + <p> + “But wasn't I match for Pettier Donovan, that would brake a stone for the + marrow *—Eh?—(a broad laugh at Pother's rueful visage.)—Pettier, + you Turk, will your heart never soften—will you never have dacency, + an' you the only man of your family that's so? Sure they say you're going + to be marrid some of these days. Well, if you get your wife in my parish, + I tell you, Pettier, I'll give you a fleecin', for don't think I'll marry + you as chape as I would a poor honest man. I'll make you shell out the + yallowboys, and 'tis that will go to your heart, you nager you; and then + I'll eat you out of house and home at the Stations. May the Lord grant us, + in the mane time, a dacent appetite, a blessing which I wish you all,———&c.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * I know not whether this may be considered worthy of a + note or not. I have myself frequently seen and tasted + what is appropriately termed by the peasantry “Stone + Marrow.” It is found in the heart of a kind of soft + granite, or perhaps I should rather say freestone. The + country people use it medicinally, but I cannot + remember what particular disease it is said to cure. It + is a soft, saponaceous substance, not unpleasant to the + taste, of a bluish color, and melts in the mouth, like + the fat of cold meat, leaving the palate greasy. How + far an investigation into its nature and properties + might be useful to the geologist or physician, it is + not for me to conjecture. As the fact appeared to be a + curious one, and necessary, moreover, to illustrate the + expression used in the text, I thought it not amiss to + mention it. It may be a <i>bonne bouche</i> for the + geologists. +</pre> + <p> + At this moment the congregation was once more in convulsions of laughter + at the dressing which Peter, whose character was drawn with much truth and + humor, received at the hands of the worthy pastor. + </p> + <p> + Our readers will perceive that there was not a single prejudice, or + weakness, or virtue, in the disposition of his auditory, left untouched in + this address. He moved their superstition, their pride of character, their + dread of hell and purgatory, their detestation of Yellow Sam, and the + remembrance of the injury so wantonly inflicted on M'Evoy's family; he + glanced at the advantage to be derived from the lad's prayers, the example + they should set to Protestants, made a passing hit at tithes; and indulged + in the humorous, the pathetic, and the miraculous. In short, he left no + avenue to their hearts untouched; and in the process by which he attempted + to accomplish his object he was successful. + </p> + <p> + There is, in fact, much rude, unpolished eloquence among the Roman + Catholic priesthood, and not a little which, if duly cultivated by study + and a more liberal education, would deserve to be ranked very high. + </p> + <p> + We do not give this as a specimen of their modern pulpit eloquence, but as + a sample of that in which some of those Irish clergy shone, who, before + the establishment of Maynooth, were admitted to orders immediately from + the hedge-schools, in consequence of the dearth of priests which then + existed in Ireland. It was customary in those days to ordain them even + before they departed for the continental colleges, in order that they + might, by saying masses and performing other clerical duties, be enabled + to add something to the scanty pittance which was appropriated to their + support. Of the class to which Father Kavanagh belonged, there are few, if + any, remaining. They sometimes were called “Hedge-priests,” * byway of + reproach; though for our own parts, we wish their non-interference in + politics, unaffected piety, and simplicity of character, had remained + behind them. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This nickname was first bestowed upon them by the + continental priests, who generally ridiculed them for + their vulgarity. They were, for the most! part, simple + but worthy men. +</pre> + <p> + On the Sunday following, Dominick M'Evoy and his son Jemmy attended mass, + whilst the other members of the family, with that sense of honest pride + which is more strongly inherent in Irish character than is generally + supposed, remained at home, from a reluctance to witness what they could + not but consider a degradation. This decency of feeling was anticipated by + the priest, and not overlooked by the people; for the former, the reader + may have observed, in the whole course of his address never once mentioned + the word “charity;” nor did the latter permit the circumstance to go + without its reward, according to the best of their ability. So keen and + delicate are the perceptions of the Irish, and so acutely alive are they + to those nice distinctions of kindness and courtesy, which have in their + hearts a spontaneous and sturdy growth, that mocks at the stunted virtues + of artificial life. + </p> + <p> + In the parish of Ballysogarth there were three altars, or places of Roman + Catholic worship; and the reader may suppose that the collection made at + each place was considerable. In truth, both father and son's anticipations + were far under the sum collected. Protestants and Presbyterians attended + with their contributions, and those of the latter who scrupled to be + present at what they considered an idolatrous worship, did not hesitate to + send their quota by some Roman Catholic neighbor. + </p> + <p> + Their names were accordingly announced with an encomium from the priest, + which never failed to excite a warm-hearted murmur of approbation. Nor was + this feeling transient, for, we will venture to say, that had political + excitement flamed up even to rebellion and mutual slaughter, the persons + and property of those individuals would have been held sacred. + </p> + <p> + At length Jemmy was equipped; and sad and heavy became the hearts of his + parents and immediate relations as the morning appointed for his departure + drew nigh. On the evening before, several of his more distant relatives + came to take their farewell of him, and, in compliance with the usages of + Irish hospitality, they were detained for the night. They did not, + however, come empty-handed: some brought money; some brought linen, + stockings, or small presents—“jist, Jimmy, asthore, to keep me in + yer memory, sure,—and nothin' else it is for, mavourneen.” + </p> + <p> + Except Jemmy himself, and one of his brothers who was to accompany him + part of the way, none of the family slept. The mother exhibited deep + sorrow, and Dominick, although he made a show of firmness, felt, now that + the crisis was at hand, nearly incapable of parting with the boy. The + conversation of their friends and the cheering effects of the poteen, + enabled them to sustain his loss better than they otherwise would have + done, and the hope of seeing him one day “an ordained priest,” contributed + more than either to support them. + </p> + <p> + When the night was nearly half spent, the mother took a candle and + privately withdrew to the room in which the boy slept. The youth was fair, + and interesting to look upon—the clustering locks of his white + forehead were divided; yet there was on his otherwise open brow, a shade + of sorrow, produced by the coming separation, which even sleep could not + efface. The mother held the candle gently towards his face, shading it + with one hand, lest the light might suddenly awake him; she then surveyed + his features long and affectionately, whilst the tears fell in showers + from her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “There you lie,” she softly sobbed out, in Irish, “the sweet pulse of your + mother's heart; the flower of our flock, the pride of our eyes, and the + music of our hearth! Jimmy, avourneen machree, an' how can I part wid you, + my darlin' son! Sure, when I look at your mild face, and think that you're + takin' the world on your head to rise us out of our poverty, isn't my + heart breakin'! A lonely house we'll have afther you, acushla! Goin' out + and comin' in, at home or abroad, your voice won't be in my ears, nor your + eye smilin' upon me. An' thin to think of what you may suffer in a + sthrange land! If your head aches, on what tendher breast will it lie? or + who will bind the ribbon of comfort * round it? or wipe your fair, mild + brow in sickness? Oh, Blessed Mother!—hunger, sickness, and sorrow + may come upon you when you'll be far from your own, an' from them that + loves you!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The following quotation, taken from a sketch called + “The Irish Midwife,” by the author, gives an + illustration of this passage:—“The first, meaning + pain in the head, she cures by a very formal and + serious process called 'measuring the head.' This is + done by a ribbon, which she puts round the cranium, + repeating during the admeasurement a certain prayer or + charm from which the operation is to derive its whole + efficacy. The measuring is performed twice—in the + first instance, to show that its sutures are separated + by disease, or to speak more plainly, that the bones + of the head are absolutely opened, and that as a + natural consequence the head must be much larger than + when the patient is in a state of health. The + circumference of the first admeasurement is marked upon + a ribbon, after which she repeats the charm that is to + remove the headache, and measures the cranium again, in + order to show, by a comparison of the two ribbons, + that the sutures have been closed, the charm successful, + and the headache immediately removed. It is + impossible to say how the discrepancy in the + measurement is brought about; but be that as it may, + the writer of this has frequently seen the operation + performed in such a way as to defy the most + scrutinizing eye to detect any appearance of imposture, + and he is convinced that in the majority of cases there + is not the slightest imposture intended. The operator + is in truth a dupe to a strong and delusive + enthusiasm.” + </pre> + <p> + This melancholy picture was too much for the tenderness of the mother; she + sat down beside the bed, rested her face on her open hand, and wept in + subdued but bitter grief. At this moment his father, who probably + suspected the cause of her absence, came in and perceived her distress. + </p> + <p> + “Vara,” said he, in Irish also, “is my darlin' son asleep?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up, with streaming eyes, as he spoke, and replied to him in a + manner so exquisitely affecting, when the circumstances of the boy, and + the tender allusion made by the sorrowing mother, are considered—that + in point of fact no heart—certainly no Irish heart—could + withstand it. There is an old Irish melody unsurpassed in pathos, + simplicity, and beauty—named in Irish “<i>Tha ma mackulla's na + foscal me,</i>”—-or in English, “I am asleep, and don't waken me.” + The position of the boy caused the recollection of the old melody to flash + into the mother's heart,—she simply pointed to him as the words + streamed in a low melodious murmur, but one full of heartrending sorrow, + from her lips. The old sacred association—for it was one which she + had sung for him a thousand times,—until warned to desist by his + tears—deepened the tenderness of her heart, and she said with + difficulty, whilst she involuntarily held over the candle to gratify the + father's heart by a sight of him. “I was keepin' him before my eye,” she + said; “God knows but it may be the last night we'll ever see him undher + our own roof! Dominick, achora, I doubt I can't part wid him from my + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Then how can I, Vara?” he replied. “Wasn't he my right hand in + everything? When was he from me, ever since he took a man's work upon him? + And when he'd finish his own task for the day, how kindly he'd begin an' + help me wid mine! No, Vara, it goes to my heart to let him go away upon + sich a plan, and I wish he hadn't taken the notion into his head at all.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not too late, maybe,” replied his mother: “I think it wouldn't be + hard to put him off of it; the crathur's own heart is failin' him to lave + us. He has sorrow upon his face where he lies.” + </p> + <p> + The father looked at the expression of affectionate melancholy which + shaded hia features as he slept; and the perception of the boy's internal + struggle against his own domestic attachments in accomplishing hia first + determination, powerfully touched his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Vara,” said he, “I know the boy—he won't give it up; and 'twould be + a pity—maybe a sin—to put him from it. Let the child get fair + play, and thry his coorse. If, he fails, he can come back to us, an' our + arms an' hearts will be open to welcome him! But, if God prospers him, + wouldn't it be a blessin' that we never expected, to see him in the white + robes, celebratin' one mass for his parents. If these ould eyes could see + that, I would be continted to close them in pace an' happiness for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “An' well you'd become them, <i>avourneen machree!</i> Well would your + mild and handsome countenance look wid the long heavenly stole of + innocence upon you! and although it's atin' into my heart, I'll bear it + for the sake of seein' the same blessed sight. Look at that face, + Dominick; mightn't many a lord of the land be proud to have sich a son? + May the heavens shower down its blessin' upon him!” + </p> + <p> + The father burst into tears. “It is—it is!” said he. “It is the face + that 'ud make many a noble heart proud to look at it! Is it any wondher it + 'ud cut our hearts, thin, to have it taken from afore our eyes? Come away, + Vara, come away, or I'll not be able to part wid it. It is the lovely face—an' + kind is the heart of my darlin' child!” As he spoke, he stooped down and + kissed the youth's cheek, on which the warm tears of affection fell, soft + as the dew from heaven. The mother followed his example, and they both + left the room. + </p> + <p> + “We must bear it,” said Dominick, as they passed into another apartment; + “the money's gathered, an' it wouldn't look well to be goin' back wid it + to them that befrinded us. We'd have the blush upon our face for it, an' + the child no advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “Thrue for you, Dominick; and we must make up our minds to live widout him + for a while.” + </p> + <p> + The following morning was dark and cloudy, but calm and without rain. When + the family were all assembled, every member of it evinced traces of deep + feeling, and every eye was fixed upon the serene but melancholy + countenance of the boy with tenderness and sorrow. He himself maintained a + quiet equanimity, which, though apparently liable to be broken by the + struggles of domestic affection, and in character with his meek and + unassuming disposition, yet was supported by more firmness than might be + expected from a mind in which kindness and sensibility were so strongly + predominant. At this time, however, his character was not developed, or at + least not understood, by those that surrounded him. To strong feelings and + enduring affections he added a keenness of perception and a bitterness of + invective, of which, in his conversation with his father concerning Yellow + Sam, the reader has already had sufficient proofs. At breakfast little or + nothing was eaten; the boy himself could not taste a morsel, nor any other + person in the family. When the form of the meal was over, the father knelt + down—“It's right,” said he, “that we should all go to our knees, and + join in a Rosary in behalf of the child that's goin' on a good intintion. + He won't thrive the worse bekase the last words that he'll hear from his + father and mother's lips is a prayer for bringin the blessin' of God down + upon his endayvors.” + </p> + <p> + This was accordingly performed, though not without tears and sobs, and + frequent demonstrations of grief; for religion among the peasantry is + often associated with bursts of deep and powerful feeling. + </p> + <p> + When the prayer was over, the boy rose and calmly strapped to his back a + satchel covered with deer-skin, containing a few books, linen, and a + change of very plain apparel. While engaged in this, the uproar of grief + in the house was perfectly heart-rending. When just ready to set out, he + reverently took off his hat, knelt down, and, with tears streaming from + his eyes, craved humbly and meekly the blessing and forgiveness of his + father and mother. The mother caught him in her arms, kissed his lips, + and, kneeling also, sobbed out a fervent benediction upon his head; the + father now, in the grief of a strong man, pressed him to his heart, until + the big burning tears fell upon the boy's face; his brothers and sisters + embraced him wildly; next his more distant relations; and lastly, the + neighbors who were crowded about the door. After this he took a light + staff in his hand, and, first blessing himself after the form of his + church, proceeded to a strange land in quest of education. + </p> + <p> + He had not gone more than a few perches from the door, when his mother + followed him with a small bottle of holy water. “Jimmy, <i>a lanna voght</i>,” + (* my poor child) said she, “here's this, an' carry it about you—it + will keep evil from you; an' be sure to take good care of the written + correckther you got from the priest an' Square Benson; an', darlin', don't + be lookin' too often at the cuff o' your coat, for feard the people might + get a notion that you have the bank-notes sewed in it. An', Jimmy agra, + don't be too lavish upon their Munster crame; they say it's apt to give + people the ague. Kiss me agin, agra; an' the heavens above keep you safe + and well till we see you once more!” + </p> + <p> + She then tenderly, and still with melancholy pride, settled his shirt + collar, which she thought did not set well about his neck, and kissing him + again, with renewed sorrow left him to pursue his journey. + </p> + <p> + M'Evoy's house was situated on the side of a dark hill—one of that + barren description which can be called neither inland nor mountain. It + commanded a wide and extended prospect, and the road along which the lad + travelled was visible for a considerable distance from it. On a small + hillock before the door sat Dominek and his wife, who, as long as their + son was visible, kept their eyes, which were nearly blinded with tears, + rivetted upon his person. It was now they gave full vent to their grief, + and discussed with painful and melancholy satisfaction all the excellent + qualities which he possessed. As James himself advanced, one neighbor + after another fell away from the train which accompanied him, not, + however, until they had affectionately embraced and bid him adieu, and + perhaps slipped, with peculiar delicacy, an additional mite into his + waistcoat pocket. After the neighbors, then followed the gradual + separation from his friends—one by one left him, as in the great + journey of life, and in a few hours he found himself accompanied only by + his favorite brother. + </p> + <p> + This to him was the greatest trial he had yet felt; long and heartrending + was their embrace. Jemmy soothed and comforted his beloved brother, but in + vain. The lad threw himself on the spot at which they parted, and remained + there until Jemmy turned an angle of the road which brought him out of his + sight, when the poor boy kissed the marks of his brother's feet + repeatedly, and then returned home, hoarse and broken down with the + violence of his grief. + </p> + <p> + He was now alone, and for the first time felt keenly the strange object on + which he was bent, together with all the difficulties connected with its + attainment. He was young and uneducated, and many years, he knew, must + elapse e'er he could find himself in possession of his wishes. But time + would pass at home, as well as abroad, he thought; and as there lay no + impediment of peculiar difficulty in his way, he collected all his + firmness and proceeded. + </p> + <p> + There is no country on the earth in which either education, or the desire + to procure it, is so much reverenced as in Ireland. Next to the claims of + the priest and schoolmaster come those of the poor scholar for the respect + of the people. It matters not how poor or how miserable he may be; so long + as they see him struggling with poverty in the prosecution of a purpose so + laudable, they will treat him with attention and kindness. Here there is + no danger of his being sent to the workhouse, committed as a vagrant, or + passed from parish to parish until he reaches his own settlement. Here the + humble lad is not met by the sneer of purse-proud insolence, or his simple + tale answered only in the frown of heartless contempt. No—no—no. + The best bit and sup are placed before him; and whilst his poor, but + warm-hearted, entertainer can afford only potatoes and salt to his own + half-starved family, he will make a struggle to procure something better + for the poor scholar; '<i>Becase he's far from his own, the craihur!</i> + An' sure the intuition in him is good, anyhow; the Lord prosper him, an' + every one that has the heart set upon the larnin'!' + </p> + <p> + As Jemmy proceeded, he found that his satchel of books and apparel gave as + clear an intimation of his purpose, as if he had carried a label to that + effect upon his back. + </p> + <p> + “God save you, a bouchal!” said a warm, honest-looking countryman, whom he + met driving home his cows in the evening, within a few miles of the town + in which he purposed to sleep. + </p> + <p> + “God save you kindly!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, thin, 'tis a long journey you have before you, alanna, for I know + well it's for Munster you're bound.” + </p> + <p> + “Thrue for you; 'tis there, wid the help of God, I'm goin'. A great + scarcity of larnin' was in my own place, or I wouldn't have to go at all,” + said the boy, whilst his eyes filled with, tears. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis no discredit in life,” replied the countryman, with untaught natural + delicacy, for he perceived that a sense of pride lingered about the boy + which made the character of poor scholar sit painfully upon him; “'tis no + discredit, dear, nor don't be cast down. I'll warrant you that God will + prosper you; an' that He may, avick, I pray this day!” and as he spoke, he + raised his hat in reverence to the Being whom he invoked. “An' tell me, + dear—where do you intend to sleep to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “In the town forrid here,” replied Jemmy. “I'm in hopes I'll be able to + reach it before dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! asy you will. Have you any friends or acquaintances there that 'ud + welcome you, <i>a bouchal dhas</i> (my handsome boy)?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” said Jemmy, “they're all strangers to me; but I can stop in + 'dhry lodgin',' for it's chaper.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, alanna, I believe you; but <i>I'm no stranger to you</i>—so + come home wid me to-night; where you'll get a good bed, and betther + thratement nor in any of their dhry lodgins. Give me your books, and I'll + carry them for you. Ethen, but you have a great batch o' them entirely. + Can you make any hand o' the Latin at all yet?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” replied Jemmy, somewhat sorrowfully; “I didn't ever open a + Latin book, at all at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, acushla, everything has a beginnin';—you won't be so. An' I + know by your face that you'll be bright at it, an' a credit to them owes + (* owns) you. There's my house in the fields beyant, where you'll be well + kept for one night, any way, or for twinty, or for ten times twinty, if + you wanted them.” + </p> + <p> + The honest farmer then commenced the song of <i>Colleen dhas Crotha na Mho</i> + (* The pretty girl milking her cow), which he sang in a clear mellow + voice, until they reached the house. + </p> + <p> + “Alley,” said the man to his wife, on entering, “here's a stranger I've + brought you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Alley, “he's welcome sure, any way; <i>Cead millia, failta + ghud</i>, alanna! sit over to the fire. Brian, get up, dear,” said she to + one of the children, “an' let the stranger to the hob.” + </p> + <p> + “He's goin' on a good errand, the Lord bless him!” said the husband, “up + the country for the larnin'. Put thim books over on the settle; an' whin + the, <i>girshas</i> are done milkin', give him a brave dhrink of the sweet + milk; it's the stuff to thravel on.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, an' I will, wid a heart an' a half, wishin' it was betther I had + to give him. Here, Nelly, put down a pot o' wather, an' lave soap an' a <i>praskeen</i>, + afore you go to milk, till I bathe the dacent boy's feet. Sore an' tired + they are afther his journey, poor young crathur.” + </p> + <p> + When Jemmy placed himself upon the hob, he saw that some peculiarly good + fortune had conducted him to so comfortable a resting-place. Ho considered + this as a good omen; and felt, in fact, much relieved, for the sense of + loneliness among strangers was removed. + </p> + <p> + The house evidently belonged to a wealthy farmer, well to do in the world; + the chimney was studded with sides upon sides of yellow smoke-dried bacon, + hams, and hung beef in abundance. The kitchen tables were large, and white + as milk; and the dresser rich in its shining array of delf and pewter. + Everything, in fact, was upon a large scale. Huge meal chests were ranged + on one side, and two or three settle beds on the other, conspicuous, as I + have said, for their uncommon cleanliness; whilst hung from the ceiling + were the <i>glaiks</i>, a machine for churning; and beside the dresser + stood an immense churn, certainly too unwieldy to be managed except by + machinery. The farmer was a ruddy-faced Milesian, who wore a drab frieze + coat, with a velvet collar, buff waistcoat, corduroy small-clothes, and + top-boots* well greased from the tops down. He was not only an + agriculturist, but a grazier—remarkable for shrewdness and good + sense, generally attended fairs and markets, and brought three or four + large droves of fat cattle to England every year. From his fob hung the + brass chain and almost rusty key of a watch, which he kept certainly more + for use than ornament. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This in almost every instance, is the dress of + wealthy Irish farmer. +</pre> + <p> + “A little sup o' this,” said he, “won't take your life,” approaching Jemmy + with a bottle of as good poteen as ever escaped the eye of an exciseman; + “it'll refresh you—for you're tired, or I wouldn't offer it, by + rason that one bint on what you're bint on, oughtn't to be makin' freedoms + wid the same dhrink. But there's a time for everything, an' there's a time + for this.—Thank you, agra,” he added, in reply to Jemmy, who had + drunk his health. “Now, don't be frettin'—but make yourself as aisy + as if you were at your own father's hearth. You'll have everything to your + heart's contint for this night; the carts are goin' in to the market + to-morrow airly—you can sit upon them, an' maybe you'll get + somethin' more nor you expect: sure the Lord has given it to me, an' why + wouldn't I share it wid them that wants it more nor I do?” + </p> + <p> + The lad's heart yearned to the generous farmer, for he felt that his + kindness had the stamp of truth and sincerity upon it. He could only raise + his eyes in a silent prayer, that none belonging to him might ever be + compelled, as strangers and way-farers, to commit themselves, as he did, + to the casualties of life, in pursuit of those attainments which poverty + cannot otherwise command. Fervent, indeed, was his prayer; and certain we + are, that because it was sincere, it must have been heard. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, the good woman, or <i>vanithee</i>, had got the pot of + water warmed, in which Jemmy was made to put his feet. She then stripped + up her arms to the elbows, and, with soap and seedy meal, affectionately + bathed his legs and feet: then, taking the <i>praskeen</i>, or coarse + towel, she wiped them with a kindness which thrilled to his heart. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said she, “I must give you a cure for blisthers, an' it's this:—In + the mornin', if we're all spared, as we will, plase the Almighty, I'll + give you a needle and some white woollen thread, well soaped. When your + blisthers gets up, dhraw the soapy thread through them, clip it on each + side, an', my life for yours, they won't throuble you. Sure I thried it + the year I went on my Station to Lough Derg, an' I know it to be the rale + cure.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, Nelly,” said the farmer,—who sat iwith a placid benevolent + face, smoking his pipe on the opposite hob—to one of the maids who + came in from milking,—“bring up a noggin of that milk, we want it + here: let it be none of your washy <i>foremilk</i>, but the <i>strippins</i>, + Nelly, that has the strinth in it. Up wid it here, a colleen.” + </p> + <p> + “The never a one o' the man but's doatin' downright, so he is,” observed + the wife, “to go to fill the tired child's stomach wid plash. Can't you + wait till he ates a thrifle o' some-thin' stout, to keep life in him, + afther his hard journey? Does your feet feel themselves cool an' asy now, + ahagur?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Jemmy, “I'm almost as fresh as when I set out. 'Twas little + thought I had, when I came away this mornin', that I'd meet wid so much + friendship on my journey. I hope it's a sign that God's on my side in my + undertakin'!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, avourneen—I hope so, an' it is, too,” replied the + farmer, taking the pipe out of his mouth, and mildly whiffing away the + smoke, “an' God'll be always on your side, as long as your intentions are + good. Now ate somethin'—you must want it by this; an' thin, when you + rest yourself bravely, take a tass into a good feather-bed, where you can + <i>sleep rings round you</i>. (* As much as you please.) Who knows but + you'll be able to say mass for me or some o' my family yit. God grant + that, any way, avick!” + </p> + <p> + Poor James's heart was too full to eat much; he took, therefore, only a + very slender portion of the refreshments set before him; but his + hospitable entertainer had no notion of permitting him to use the free + exercise of his discretion on this important point. When James put away + the knife and fork, as an indication of his having concluded the meal, the + farmer and his wife turned about, both at the same moment, with a kind of + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? is it giving over that way you are? Why, alanna, it's nothin' at all + you've tuck; sure little Brian there would make a fool of you, so he + would, at the atin'. Come, come, a bouchal—don't be ashamed, or make + any way sthrange at all, but ate hearty.” + </p> + <p> + “I declare I have ate heartily, thank you,” replied James; “oceans itself, + so I did. I couldn't swally a bit more if the house was full.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrah, Brian,” said the wife, “cut him up more o' that hung beef, it's + ashamed the crathur is! Take it, avick; don't we know the journey you had! + Faix, if one o' the boys was out on a day's thravellin', you'd see how + he'd handle himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said James, “I can't—if I could I would. Sure I would be + no way backward at all, so I wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, an' you can an' must,” said the farmer: “the never a rise you'll + rise, till you finish that”—putting over a complement out of all + reasonable proportion with his age and size. + </p> + <p> + “There now's a small taste, an' you must finish it. To go to ate nothin' + at all! Hut tut! by the tops o' my boots, you must put that clear an' + clane out o' sight, or I'll go mad an' barn them.” + </p> + <p> + The lad recommenced, and continued to eat as long as he could possibly + hold out; at length he ceased:— + </p> + <p> + “I can't go on,” said he; “don't ax me: I can't indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad manners to the word I'll hear till you finish it; you know it's but a + thrifle to spake of. Thry agin, avick, but take your time; you'll be able + for it.” + </p> + <p> + The poor lad's heart was engaged on other thoughts and other scenes; his + home, and its beloved inmates—sorrow and the gush of young + affections, were ready to burst forth. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot ate,” said he, and he looked imploringly on the farmer and his + wife, whilst the tears started to his eyes—“don't ax me, for my + heart's wid them I left behind me, that I may never see agin!” and he wept + in a burst of grief which he could not restrain. + </p> + <p> + Neither the strength nor tenderness of the lad's affection was + unappreciated by this excellent couple. In a moment the farmer's wife was + also in tears; nor did her husband break the silence for some minutes. + </p> + <p> + “The Almighty pity an' strengthen him!” said the farmer's wife, “but he + has the good an' the kind heart, an' would be a credit to any family.—Whisht, + acushla machree—whisht, we won't ax you to ate—no indeed. It + was out o' kindness we did it: don't be cast down aither; sure it isn't + the ocean you're crossin'; but goin' from one county like to another. God + 'll guard an' take care o' you, so he will. Your intintion's good, an' + he'll prosper it.” + </p> + <p> + “He will, avick,” said the farmer himself—“he will. Cheer up, my + good boy! I know thim that's larned an' creditable clargy this day, that + went as you're goin'—ay, an' that ris an' helped their parents, an' + put them above poverty an' distress; an' never fear, wid a blessin', but + you'll do the same.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what brings me at all,” replied the boy, drying his tears; “if I + was once able to take them out o' their distresses, I'd be happy: only I'm + afeard the cares o' the world will break my father's heart before I have + it in my power to assist him.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing, darlin',” said the good woman. “Sure his hopes out o' you, + an' his love for you will keep him up; an' you dunna but God may give him + a blessin' too, avick.” + </p> + <p> + “Mix another sup o'that for him,” said the fanner: “he's low spirited, an' + it's too strong to give him any more of it as it is. Childhre, where's the + masther from us—eh? Why, thin, God help them, the crathurs—wasn't + it thoughtful o' them to lave the place while he was at his dinner, for + fraid he'd be dashed—manin' them young crathurs, Alley, But can you + tell us where the 'masther' is? Isn't this his night wid us? I know he + tuck his dinner here.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay did he; but it's up to Larry Murphy's he's gone, to thry his son in + his book-keepin'. Mavrone, but he had time enough to put him well through + it afore this, any way.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, a short thickset man, with black twinkling eyes and ruddy + cheeks entered. This personage was no other than the schoolmaster of that + district, who circulated, like a newspaper, from one farmer's house to + another, in order to expound for his kind entertainers the news of the + day, his own learning, and the very evident extent of their ignorance. + </p> + <p> + The moment he came in, the farmer and his wife rose with an air of much + deference, and placed a chair for him exactly opposite the fire, leaving a + respectful distance on each side, within which no illiterate mortal durst + presume to sit. + </p> + <p> + “Misther Corcoran,” said the farmer, presenting Jemmy's satchel, through + which the shapes of the books were quite plain, “<i>thig in thu shinn?</i>” + (* Do you understand this) and as he spoke he looked significantly at its + owner. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” replied the man of letters, “thigum, thigum. (* I understand) God be + wid the day when I carried the likes of it. 'Tis a badge of polite genius, + that no boy need be ashamed of. So my young suckling of litherature, + you're bound for Munster?—for that counthry where the swallows fly + in conic sections—where the magpies and the turkey's confab in + Latin, and the cows and bullocks will roar you Doric Greek—bo-a-o—clamo. + What's your pathronymic? <i>quo nomine gowdes, Domine doctissime?</i>” + </p> + <p> + The lad was silent; but the farmer's wife turned up the whites of her eyes + with an expression of wonder and surprise at the erudition of the + “masther.” + </p> + <p> + “I persave you are as yet uninitiated into the elementary principia of the + languages; well—the honor is still before you. What's your name?” + </p> + <p> + “James M'Evoy, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Just now the farmer's family began to assemble round the spacious hearth; + the young lads, whose instruction the worthy teacher claimed as his own + peculiar task, came timidly forward, together with two or three pretty + bashful girls with sweet flashing eyes, and countenances full of feeling + and intelligence. Behind on the settles, half-a-dozen servants of both + sexes sat in pairs—each boy placing himself beside his favorite + girl. These appeared to be as strongly interested in the learned + conversation which the master held, as if they were masters and mistresses + of Munster Latin and Doric Greek themselves; but an occasional thump + cautiously bestowed by no slender female hand upon the sturdy shoulder of + her companion, or a dry cough from one of the young men, fabricated to + drown the coming blow, gave slight indications that they contrived to have + a little amusement among themselves, altogether independent of Mr. + Corcoran's erudition. + </p> + <p> + When the latter came in, Jemmy was taking the tumbler of punch which the + farmer's wife had mixed for him; on this he fixed an expressive glance, + which instantly reverted to the <i>vanithee</i>, and from her to the large + bottle which stood in a window to the right of the fire. It is a quick + eye, however, that can anticipate Irish hospitality. + </p> + <p> + “Alley,” said the farmer, ere the wife had time to comply with the hint + conveyed by the black, twinkling eye of the schoolmaster; “why, Alley”— + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I am,” she replied, “an' will have it for you in less than no + time.” + </p> + <p> + She accordingly addressed herself to the bottle, and in a few minutes + handed a reeking jug of punch to the <i>Farithee</i>, or good man. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Masther, by the hand o' my body, I don't like dhry talk so long as + I can get anything to moisten the discoorse. Here's your health, Masther,” + continued the farmer, winking at the rest, “and a speedy conclusion to + what you know! In throth, she's the pick of a good girl—not to + mintion what she has for her portion. I'm a friend to the same family, an' + will put a spoke in your wheel, Masther, that'll sarve you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Lanigan, very well, sir—very well—you're becoming + quite facetious upon me,” said the little man, rather confused; “but upon + my credit and reputation, except the amorous inclination and regard to me + is on her side,” and he looked sheepishly at his hands, “I can't say that + the arrows of Cupid have as yet pinethrated the sintimintal side of my + heart. It is not with me as it was wid Dido—hem— + </p> + <p> + Non 'haeret lateri lethalis arundo,' + </p> + <p> + as Virgil says. Yet I can't say, but if a friend were to become spokesman + for me, and insinuate in my behalf a small taste of amorous + sintimintality, why—hem, hem, hem! The company's health! Lad, James + M'Evoy, your health, and success to you, my good boy!—hem, hem!” + </p> + <p> + “Here's wishin' him the same!” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “James,” said the schoolmaster, “you are goin' to Munsther, an' I can say + that I have travelled it from end to end, not to a bad purpose, I hope—hem! + Well, a bouchal, there are hard days and nights before you, so keep a firm + heart. If you have money, as 'tis likely you have, don't let a single rap + of it into the hands of the schoolmaster, although the first thing he'll + do will be to bring you home to his own house, an' palaver you night an' + day, till he succeeds in persuading you to leave it in his hands for + security. You might, if not duly pre-admonished, surrender it to his + solicitations, for— + </p> + <p> + 'Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit.' + </p> + <p> + Michael, what case is mortalium?” added he, suddenly addressing one of the + farmer's sons; “come, now, Michael, where's your brightness? What case is + mortalium?” + </p> + <p> + The boy was taken by surprise, and for a few minutes could not reply. + </p> + <p> + “Come man,” said the father, “be sharp, spake out bravely, an' don't be + afraid; nor don't be in a hurry aither, we'll wait for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him alone—let him alone,” said Corcoran; “I'll face the same + boy agin the county for cuteness. If he doesn't expound that, I'll never + consthru a line of Latin, or Greek, or Masoretic, while I'm livin'.” + </p> + <p> + His cunning master knew right well that the boy, who was only confused at + the suddenness of the question, would feel no difficulty in answering it + to his satisfaction. Indeed, it was impossible for him to miss it, as he + was then reading the seventh book of Virgil, and the fourth of Homer. It + is, however, a trick with such masters to put simple questions of that + nature to their pupils, when at the houses of their parents, as knotty and + difficult, and when they are answered, to assume an air of astonishment at + the profound reach of thought displayed by the pupil. + </p> + <p> + When Michael recovered himself, he instantly replied, “<i>Mortalium</i> is + the genitive case of nemo, by '<i>Nomina Partiva</i>.'” + </p> + <p> + Corcoran laid down the tumbler, which he was in the act of raising to his + lips, and looked at the lad with an air of surprise and delight, then at + the farmer and his wife, alternately, and shook his head with much + mystery. “Michael,” said he to the lad; “will you go out and tell us what + the night's doin'.” + </p> + <p> + The boy accordingly went out—“Why,” said Corcoran, in his absence, + “if ever there was a phanix, and that boy will be the bird—an Irish + phanix he will be, a + </p> + <p> + <i>Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima cygno!</i> + </p> + <p> + There's no batin' him at anything he undher-takes. Why, there's thim that + are makin' good bread by their larnin', that couldn't resolve that; and + you all saw how he did it widout the book! Why, if he goes on at this + rate, I'm afraid he'll soon be too many for myself—hem!” + </p> + <p> + “Too many for yourself! Fill the masther's tumbler, Alley. Too many for + yourself! No, no! I doubt he'll never see that day, bright as he is, an' + cute. That's it—put a hape upon it. Give me your hand, masther. I + thank you for your attention to him, an' the boy is a credit to us. Come + over, Michael, avourneen. Here, take what's in this tumbler, an' finish + it. Be a good boy and mind your lessons, an' do everything the masther + here—the Lord bless him!—bids you; an' you'll never want a + frind, masther, nor a dinner, nor a bed, nor a guinea, while the Lord + spares me aither the one or the other.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, Mr. Lanigan, I know it; and I will make that boy the pride of + Ireland, if I'm spared. I'll show him <i>cramboes</i> that would puzzle + the great Scaliger himself; and many other difficulties I'll let him into, + that I have never let out yet, except to Tim Kearney, that bate them all + at Thrinity College in Dublin up, last June.” + </p> + <p> + “Arrah, how was that, Masther?” + </p> + <p> + “Tim, you see, went in to his Entrance Examinayshuns, and one of the + Fellows came to examine him, but divil a long it was till Tim sacked him. + </p> + <p> + “'Go back agin', says Tim, 'and sind some one that's able to tache me, for + you're not.' + </p> + <p> + “So another greater scholar agin came to yry Tim, and did thry him, and + Tim made a <i>hare</i> of <i>him</i>, before all that was in the place—five + or six thousand ladies and gintlemen, at laste! + </p> + <p> + “The great learned Fellows thin began to look odd enough; so they picked + out the best scholar among them but one, and slipped him at Tim; but well + becomes Tim, the never a long it was till he had him, too, as dumb as a + post. The fellow went back— + </p> + <p> + “'Gintlemen,' says he to the rest, 'we'll be disgraced all out,' says he, + 'for except the Prowost sacks that Munsther spalpeen, he'll bate us all, + an' we'll never be able to hould up our heads afther.' + </p> + <p> + “Accordingly, the Prowost attacks Tim; and such a meetin' as they had, + never was seen in Thrinity College since its establishment. At last when + they had been nine hours and a half at it, the Prowost put one word to him + that Tim couldn't expound, so he lost it by one word only. For the last + two hours the Prowost carried on the examinashun in Hebrew, thinking, you + see, he had Tim there; but he was mistaken, for Tim answered him in good + Munsther Irish, and it so happened that they understood each other, for + the two languages are first cousins, or, at all evints, close blood + relations. Tim was then pronounced to be the best scholar in Ireland + except the Prowost; though among ourselves, they might have thought of the + man that taught him. That, however, wasn't all. A young lady fell in love + wid Tim, and is to make him a present of herself and her great fortune + (three estates) the moment he becomes a counsellor; and in the meantime + she allows him thirty pounds a year to bear his expenses, and live like a + gintleman. + </p> + <p> + “Now to return to the youth in the corner: <i>Nemo mortalium omnibus horis + sapit</i>, Jemmy keep your money, or give it to the priest to keep, and it + will be safest; but by no means let the Hyblean honey of the + schoolmaster's blarney deprive you of it, otherwise it will be a <i>vale, + vale, longum vale</i> between you. <i>Crede experto!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Masther,” said the farmer, “many a sthrange accident you met wid on yer + thravels through Munsther?” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt of that, Mr. Lanigan. I and another boy thravelled it in society + together. One day we were walking towards a gintleman's house on the road + side, and it happened that we met the owner of it in the vicinity, + although we didn't know him to be such. + </p> + <p> + “'<i>Salvete Domini!</i>' said he, in good fresh Latin. + </p> + <p> + “'<i>Tu sis salvus, quoque!</i>' said I to him, for my comrade wasn't + cute, an' I was always orathor. + </p> + <p> + “'<i>Unde veniti?</i>' said he, comin' over us wid another deep piece of + larnin' the construction of which was, 'where do yez come from?' + </p> + <p> + “I replied, '<i>Per varios casus et tot discrimina rerum, venimus a Mayo.</i>' + </p> + <p> + “'Good!' said he, 'you're bright; follow me.' + </p> + <p> + “So he brought us over to his own house, and ordered us bread and cheese + and a posset; for it was Friday, an' we couldn't touch mate. He, in the + mane time, sat an chatted along wid us. The thievin' cook, however, in + makin' the posset, kept the curds to herself, except a slight taste here + and there, that floated on the top; but she was liberal enough of the + whey, any how. + </p> + <p> + “Now I had been well trained to fishing in my more youthful days; and no + gorsoon could grope a trout wid me. I accordingly sent the spoon through + the pond before me wid the skill of a connoisseur; but to no purpose—it + came up wid nothin' but the whey. + </p> + <p> + “So, said I off hand to the gintleman, houlding up the bowl, and looking + at it with a disappointed face, + </p> + <p> + 'Apparent <i>rari</i> nantes in gurgite vasto.' + </p> + <p> + 'This,' says I, 'plase your hospitality, may be Paotolus, but the divil a + taste o' the proper sand is in the bottom of it.' + </p> + <p> + “The wit of this, you see, pleased him, and we got an excellent treat in + his <i>studium</i>, or study: for he was determined to give myself another + trial. + </p> + <p> + “'What's the wickedest line in Virgil?' said he. + </p> + <p> + “Now I had Virgil at my fingers' ends, so I answered him: + </p> + <p> + 'Flectere si nequeo superos, Aeheronta movebo,' + </p> + <p> + “'Very good,' said he, 'you have the genius, and will come to somethin' + yet: now tell me the most moral line in Virgil.' + </p> + <p> + “I answered: + </p> + <p> + 'Discere justitiam moniti et non temnere divos.' * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * He is evidently drawing the long-bow here; this + anecdote has been told before. +</pre> + <p> + “'Depend upon it,' said he, 'you will be a luminary. The morning star will + be but a farthing candle to you; and if you take in the learning as you do + the cheese, in a short time there won't be a man in Munsther fit to teach + you,' and he laughed, for you see he had a tendency to jocosity. + </p> + <p> + “He did not give me up here, however, being determined to go deeper wid + me. + </p> + <p> + “'Can you translate a newspaper into Latin prose?' said he. + </p> + <p> + “Now the divil a one o' me was just then sure about the prose, so I was + goin' to tell him; but before I had time to speak, he thrust the paper + into my hand, and desired me to thranslate half-a-dozen barbarous + advertisements. + </p> + <p> + “The first that met me was about a reward offered for a Newfoundland dog + and a terrier, that had been stolen from a fishing-tackle manufacturer, + and then came a list of his shabby merchandise, ending with a long-winded + encomium upon his gunpowder, shot, and double-barrelled guns. Now may I be + shot with a blank cartridge, if I ever felt so much at an amplush in my + life, and I said so. + </p> + <p> + “'Your honor has hooked me wid the fishing hooks,' said I; 'but I grant + the cheese was good bait, any how.' + </p> + <p> + “So he laughed heartily, and bid me go on. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought the first was difficult: but the second was Masoretic to + it—something about drawbacks, excisemen, and a long custom-house + list, that would puzzle Publius Virgilius Maro, if he was set to translate + it. However, I went through wid it as well as I could; where I couldn't + find Latin, I laid in the Greek, and where the Greek failed me, I gave the + Irish, which, to tell the truth, in consequence of its vernacularity, I + found to be the most convanient. Och, och many a larned scrimmage I have + signalized myself in, during my time. Sure my name's as common as a + mail-coach in Thrinity College; and 'tis well known there isn't a fellow + in it but I could sack, except may be, the prowost. That's their own + opinion. 'Corcoran,' says the prowost, 'is the most larned man in Ireland; + an' I'm not ashamed,' says he, 'to acknowledge that I'd rather decline + meeting him upon deep points.' Ginteels, all your healths—hem! But + among ourselves I could bog him in a very short time; though I'd scorn to + deprive the gintleman of his reputaytion or his place, even if he sent me + a challenge of larnin' to-morrow, although he's too cute to venture on + doing that—hem, hem!” + </p> + <p> + To hear an obscure creature, whose name was but faintly known in the + remote parts even of the parish in which he lived, draw the long-bow at + such a rate, was highly amusing. The credulous character of his auditory, + however, was no slight temptation to him; for he knew that next to the + legends of their saints, or the Gospel itself, his fictions ranked in + authenticity; and he was determined that it should not be his fault if + their opinion of his learning and talents were not raised to the highest + point. The feeling experienced by the poor scholar, when he awoke the next + morning, was one both of satisfaction and sorrow. He thought once more of + his home and kindred, and reflected that it might be possible he had I + seen the last of his beloved relations. His grief, however, was checked + when he remembered the warm and paternal affection with which he was + received on the preceding night by his hospitable countryman. He offered + up his prayers to God; humbly besought his grace and protection; nor did + he forget to implore a blessing upon those who I had thus soothed his + early sorrows, and afforded him, though a stranger and friendless, I + shelter, comfort, and sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” thought he, “that I will meet many such, till I overcome my + difficulties, an' find myself able to assist my poor father an' mother!” + </p> + <p> + And he did meet many such among the humble, and despised, and neglected of + his countrymen; for—and we say it with pride—the character of + this excellent farmer is thoroughly that of our peasantry within the range + of domestic life. + </p> + <p> + When he had eaten a comfortable breakfast, and seen his satchel stuffed + with provision for his journey, the farmer brought him up to his own room, + in which were also his wife and children. + </p> + <p> + “God,” said he, “has been good to me; blessed be his holy name!—betther + it appears in one sinse, than he has been to you, dear, though maybe I + don't desarve it as well. But no matther, acushla; I have it, an' you want + it; so here's a thrifle to help your forrid in your larnin'; an' all I ax + from you is to offer up a bit of a prayer for me, of an odd time, an' if + ever you live to be a priest, to say, if it wouldn't be throublesome, one + Mass for me an' those that you see about me. It's not much, James agra—only + two guineas. They may stand your friend, whin friends will be scarce wid + you; though, I hope, that won't be the case aither.” + </p> + <p> + The tears were already streaming down. Jemmy's cheeks. “Oh,” said the + artless boy, “God forever reward you! but sure I have a great dale of + money in the—in the—cuff o' my coat. Indeed I have, an' I + won't want it!” + </p> + <p> + The farmer, affected by the utter simplicity of the lad, looked at his wife + and smiled, although a tear stood in his eye at the time. She wiped her + eyes with her apron, and backed the kind offer of her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Take it, asthore,” she added, “in your cuff! Musha, God help you! sure + it's not much you or the likes of you can have in your cuff, avourneen! + Don't be ashamed, but take it; we can well afford it, glory be to God for + it! It's not, agra, bekase you're goin' the way you are—though that + same's an honor to you—but bekase our hearts warmed to you, that we + offered it, an' bekase we would wish you to be thinkin' of us now an' + thin, when you're in a strange part of the country. Let me open your + pocket an' put them into it. That's a good, boy, thank you, an' God bless + an' prosper you! I'm sure you were always biddable.” + </p> + <p> + “Now childre,” said the farmer, addressing his sons and daughters, “never + see the sthranger widout a friend, nor wantin' a bed or a dinner, when you + grow up to be men an' women. There's many a turn in this world; we may be + strangers ourselves; an' think of what I would feel if any of you was far + from me, widout money or friends, when I'd hear that you met a father in a + strange counthry that lightened your hearts by his kindness. Now, dear, + the carts 'll be ready in no time—eh? Why there they are at the gate + waitin' for you. Get into one of them, an' they'll lave you in the next + town. Come, roan, budan' age, be stout-hearted, an' don't cry; sure we did + nothin' for you to spake of.” + </p> + <p> + He shook the poor scholar by the hand, and drawing his hat over his eyes, + passed hurriedly out of the room. Alley stooped down, kissed his lips, and + wept; and the children each embraced him with that mingled feeling of + compassion and respect which is uniformly entertained for the poor scholar + in Ireland. + </p> + <p> + The boy felt as if he had been again separated from his parents; with a + sobbing bosom and wet cheeks he bid them farewell, and mounting one of the + carts was soon beyond sight and hearing of the kind-hearted farmer and his + family. + </p> + <p> + When the cart had proceeded about a mile, it stopped, and one of the men + who accompanied it addressing a boy who passed with two sods of turf under + his arm, desired him to hurry on and inform his master that they waited + for him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Misther Corcoran to come into coort,” said the man, laughing, “my + Lordship's waitin' to hear his defince for intindin' not to run away wid + Miss Judy Malowny. Tell him Lord Garty's ready to pass sintince on him for + not stalin' the heart of her wid his Rule o' Three. Ha! by the holy + farmer, you'll get it for stayin' from school to this hour. Be quick, + abouchal!” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the trembling urchin, glad of any message that might + serve to divert the dreaded birch from himself, entered the, uproarious + “Siminary,” caught his forelock, bobbed down his head to the master, and + pitched his “two sods” into a little'heap of turf which lay in the corner + of the school. + </p> + <p> + “Arrah, Pat Roach, is this an hour to inter into my establishment wid + impunity? Eh, you Rosicrusian?” + </p> + <p> + “Masther, sir,” replied the adroit monkey, “I've a message for you, sir, + i' you plase.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what might the message be, Masther; Pat Roach? To dine to-day wid + your worthy father, abouchal?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; it's from one o' Mr. Lanigan's boys—him that belongs to + the carts, sir; he wants to spake to you, sir, i' you plase.” + </p> + <p> + “An' do you give that by way of an apologetical oration for your absence + from the advantages of my tuition until this hour? However, non constat + Patrici; I'll pluck the crow wid you on my return. If you don't find + yourself a well-flogged youth for your 'mitchin,' never say that this + right hand can administer condign punishment to that part of your physical + theory which constitutes the antithesis to your vacuum caput. En et ewe, + you villain,” he added, pointing to the birch, “it's newly cut and + trimmed, and pregnant wid alacrity for the operation. I correct, + Patricius, on fundamental principles, which you'll soon feel to your + cost.” + </p> + <p> + “Masther, sir,” replied the lad, in a friendly, conciliating tone, “my + father 'ud be oblaged to you, if you'd take share of a fat goose wid him + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to your sate, Paddy, avourneen; devil a dacent boy in the seminary I + joke—so much wid, as I do wid yourself; an' all out of respect for + your worthy parents. Faith, I've a great regard for them, all out, an' + tell them so.” + </p> + <p> + He then proceeded to the carts, and approaching Jemmy, gave him such + advice touching his conduct in Munster, as he considered to be most + serviceable to an inexperienced lad of his years. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said the kind-hearted soul—“here, James, is my mite; it's + but bare ten shillings; but if I could make it a pound for you, it would + give me a degree of delectability which I have not enjoyed for a long + time. The truth is, there's something like the <i>nodus matrimonii</i>, or + what they facetiously term the priest's gallows, dangling over my head, so + that any little thrifle I may get must be kept together for that crisis, + James, abouchal; so that must be my apology for not giving you more, + joined to the naked fact, that I never was remarkable for a superfluity of + cash under any circumstances. Remember what I told you last night. Don't + let a shilling of your money into the hands of the masther you settle wid. + Give it to the parish priest, and dhraw it from him when you want it. + Don't join the parties or the factions of the school. Above all, spake ill + of nobody; and if the; masther is harsh upon you, either bear it + patiently, or mintion it to the priest, or to some other person of + respectability in the parish, and you'll be protected. You'll be apt to + meet cruelty enough, my good boy: for there are larned Neros in Munster, + who'd flog if the province was in flames. + </p> + <p> + “Now, James, I'll tell you what you'll do, when you reach the larned + south. Plant yourself on the highest hill in the neighborhood wherein the + academician with whom you intend to stop, lives. Let the hour of + reconnoitring be that in which dinner is preparing. When seated there, + James, take a survey of the smoke that ascends from the chimneys of the + farmer's houses, and be sure to direct your steps to that from which the + highest and merriest column issues. This is the old plan and it is a sure + one. The highest smoke rises from the largest fire, the largest fire boils + the biggest pot, the biggest pot generally holds the fattest bacon, and + the fattest bacon is kept by the richest farmer. It's a wholesome and + comfortable climax, my boy, and one by which I myself was enabled to keep + a dacent portion of educated flesh between the master's birch and my ribs. + The science itself is called Gastric Geography, and is peculiar only to + itinerant young gintlemen who seek for knowledge in the classical province + of Munster. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a book that thravelled along wid myself through all my + peregrinations—Creech's Translation of Horace. Keep it for my sake; + and when you accomplish your education, if you return home this way, I'd + thank you to give me a call. Farewell! God bless you and prosper you as I + wish, and as I am sure you desarve.” + </p> + <p> + He shook the lad by the hand; and as it was probable that his own former + struggles with poverty, when in the pursuit of education, came with all + the power of awakened recollection to his mind, he hastily drew his hand + across his eyes, and returned to resume the brief but harmless authority + of the ferula. + </p> + <p> + After arriving at the next town, Jemmy found himself once more prosecuting + his journey alone. In proportion as he advanced into a strange land, his + spirits became depressed, and his heart cleaved more and more to those + whom he had left behind him. There is, however, an enthusiasm in the + visions of youth, in the speculations of a young heart, which frequently + overcomes difficulties that a mind taught by the experience of life would + often shrink from encountering. We may all remember the utter recklessness + of danger, with which, in our youthful days, we crossed floods, or stood + upon the brow of yawning precipices—feats which, in after years, the + wealth of kingdoms could not induce us to perform. Experience, as well as + conscience, makes cowards of us all. + </p> + <p> + The poor scholar in the course of his journey had the satisfaction of + finding himself an object of kind and hospitable attention to his + countrymen. His satchel of books was literally a passport to their hearts. + For instance, as he wended his solitary way, depressed and travel-worn, he + was frequently accosted by laborers from behind a ditch on the roadside, + and, after giving a brief history of the object he had in view, brought, + if it was dinner-hour, to some farm-house or cabin, where he was made to + partake of their meal. Even those poor creatures who gain a scanty + subsistence by keeping what are called “dhry lodgins,” like <i>lucus a non + lucendo</i>, because they never keep out the rain, and have mostly a + bottle of whiskey for those who know how to call for it, even they, in + most instances, not only refused to charge the poor scholar for his bed, + but declined to receive any remuneration for his subsistence. + </p> + <p> + “Och, och, no, you poor young cratlrur, not from you. No, no; if we + wouldn't help the likes o' you, who ought we to help? No dear; but instead + o' the <i>airighad</i>, (* money) jist lave us your blessin', an' maybe + we'll thrive as well wid that, as we would wid your little 'pences, that + you'll be wanting for yourself whin your frinds won't be near to help + you.” + </p> + <p> + Many, in fact, were the little marks of kindness and attention which the + poor lad received on his way. Sometimes a ragged peasant, if he happened + to be his fellow-traveller, would carry his satchel so long as they + travelled together, or a carman would give him a lift on his empty car; or + some humorous postilion, or tipsy “shay-boy,” with a comical leer in his + eye, would shove him into his vehicle; remarking— + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, let nobody say you're a poor scholar now, an' you goin' to school + in a coach! Be the piper that played afore Moses, if ever any rascal + upraids you wid it, tell him, says you—'You damned rap,' says you, + 'I wint to school in a coach! an' that,' says you, 'was what none o' yer + beggarly gin oration was ever able to do,' says you; 'an' moreover, be the + same token,' says you, 'be the holy farmer, if you bring it up to me, I'll + make a third eye in your forehead wid the butt o' this whip,' says you. + Whish! darlins! That's the go! There's drivin', Barny! Eh?” + </p> + <p> + At length, after much toil and travel, he reached the South, having + experienced as he proceeded a series of affectionate attentions, which + had, at least, the effect of reconciling him to the measure he had taken, + and impressing upon his heart a deeper confidence in the kindness and + hospitality of his countrymen. + </p> + <p> + Upon the evening of the day on which he terminated his journey, twilight + was nearly falling; the town in which he intended to stop for the night + was not a quarter of a mile before him, yet he was scarcely able to reach + it; his short, yielding steps were evidently those of a young and fatigued + traveller: his brow was moist with perspiration: he had just begun, too, + to consider in what manner he should introduce himself to the master who + taught the school at which he had been advised to stop, when he heard a + step behind him, and on looking back, he discovered a tall, well-made, + ruddy-faced young man, dressed in black, with a book in his hand, walking + after him. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Unde et quo viator?</i>” said the stranger, on coming up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” replied Jemmy, “I have not Latin <i>yet</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “You are on your way to seek it, however,” replied the other. “Have you + travelled far?” + </p> + <p> + “A long way, indeed, sir; I came from the County ———, + sir—the upper part of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you letters from your parish priest?” + </p> + <p> + “I have, sir, and one from my father's landlord, Square Benson, if you + ever heard of him.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your object in learning Latin?” + </p> + <p> + “To be a priest, wid the help o' God; an' to rise my poor father an' + mother out of their poverty.” + </p> + <p> + His companion, after hearing this reply, bent a glance upon him, that + indicated the awakening of an interest in the lad much greater than he + probably otherwise would have felt. + </p> + <p> + “It's only of late,” continued the boy, “that my father an' mother got + poor; they were once very well to do in the world. But they were put out + o' their farm in ordher that the agint might put a man that had married a + <i>get</i> (* A term implying illegitimacy) of his own into it. My father + intended to lay his case before Colonel B———, the + landlord; but he couldn't see him at all, bekase he never comes near the + estate. The agint's called Yallow Sam, sir; he's rich through cheatery an' + dishonesty; puts money out at intherest, then goes to law, an' brakes the + people entirely; for, somehow, he never was known to lose a lawsuit at + all, sir. They say it's the divil, sir, that keeps the lawyers on his + side; an' that when he an' the lawyers do be dhrawin' up their writins, + the devil—God betune me an' harm!—does be helpin' them!” + </p> + <p> + “And is Colonel B——— actually—or, rather, was he + your father's landlord?” + </p> + <p> + “He was, indeed, sir; it's thruth I'm tellin' you.” + </p> + <p> + “Singular enough! Stand beside me here—do you see that large house + to the right among the trees?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir; a great big house, entirely—like a castle, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The same. Well, that house belongs to Colonel B———, and + I am very intimate with him. I am Catholic curate of this parish; and I + was, before my ordination, private tutor in his family for four years.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, sir, you might have intherest to get my father back into his + farm?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know that, my good lad, for I am told Colonel B——-is + rather embarrassed, and, if I mistake not, in the power of the man you + call Yellow Sam, who has, I believe, heavy mortgages upon his property. + But no matter; if I cannot help your father, I shall be able to serve + yourself. Where do you intend to stop for the night?” + </p> + <p> + “In dhry lodgin', sir, that's where my father and mother bid me stop + always. They war very kind to me, sir, in the dhry lddgins.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is there in Ireland who would not be kind to you, my good boy? I + trust you do not neglect your religious duties?” + </p> + <p> + “Wid the help o' God, sir, I strive to attind to them as well as I can; + particularly since I left my father and mother. Every night an' mornin', + sir, I say five Fathers, five Aves, an' a Creed; an' sometimes when I'm + walkin' the road, I slip up an odd Father, sir, an' Ave, that God may + grant me good luck.” + </p> + <p> + The priest smiled at his candor and artlessness, and could not help + feeling the interest which the boy had already excited in him increase. + </p> + <p> + “You do right,” said he, “and take care that you neglect not the worship + of God. Avoid bad company; be not quarrelsome at school; study to improve + yourself diligently; attend mass regularly; and be punctual in going to + confession.” + </p> + <p> + After some further conversation, the priest and he entered the town + together. + </p> + <p> + “This is my house,” said the former; “or if not altogether mine—at + least, that in which I lodge; let me see you here at two o'clock + to-morrow. In the meantime, follow me, and I shall place you with a family + where you will experience every kindness and attention that can make you + comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + He then led him a few doors up the street, till he stopped at a + decent-looking “House of Entertainment,” to the proprietors of which he + introduced him. + </p> + <p> + “Be kind to this strange boy,” said the worthy clergyman, “and whatever + the charges of his board and lodging may be until we get him settled, I + shall be accountable for them.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid, your Reverence, that ever a penny belongin' to a poor boy + lookin' for his larnin' should go into our pockets, if he was wid us + twelve months in the year. No—no! He can stay with the <i>bouchaleens</i>; + (* little boys) let them be thryin' one another in their books. If he is + fardher on in the Latin then Andy, he can help Andy; an' if Andy has the + foreway of him, why Andy can help him. Come here, boys, all of yez. Here's + a comrade for yez—a dacent boy that's lookin' for his larnin', the + Lord enable him! Now be kind to him, an' whisper,” he added, in an + undertone, “don't be bringin' a blush to the gorsoon's face. Do ye hear? + Ma chorp! if ye do!—Now mind it. Ye know what I can do whin I'm well + vexed! Go, now, an' get him somethin' to ate an' dhrink, an' let him sleep + wid Barney in the feather bed.” + </p> + <p> + During the course of the next day, the benevolent curate introduced him to + the parish priest, who from the frequent claims urged by poor scholars + upon his patronage, felt no particular interest in his case. He wrote a + short letter, however, to the master with whom Jemmy intended to become a + pupil, stating that “he was an honest boy, the son of legitimate parents, + and worthy of consideration.” + </p> + <p> + The curate, who saw further into the boy's character than the parish + priest, accompanied him on the following day to the school; introduced him + to the master in the most favorable manner, and recommended him in general + to the hospitable care of all the pupils. This introduction did not serve + the boy so much as might have been expected; there was nothing particular + in the letter of the parish priest, and the curate was but a curate—no + formidable personage in any church where the good-will of the rector has + not been already secured. + </p> + <p> + Jemmy returned that day to his lodgings, and the next morning, with his + Latin Grammar under his arm, he went to school to taste the first bitter + fruits of the tree of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + On entering it, which he did with a beating heart, he found the despot of + a hundred subjects sitting behind a desk, with his hat on, a brow + superciliously severe, and his nose crimped into a most cutting and + vinegar curl. The truth was, the master knew the character of the curate, + and felt that because he had taken Jemmy under his protection, no + opportunity remained for him of fleecing the boy, under the pretence of + securing his money, and that consequently the arrival of the poor scholar + would be no windfall, as he had expected. + </p> + <p> + When Jemmy entered, he looked first at the master for his welcome; but the + master, who verified the proverb, that there are none so blind as those + who will not see, took no notice whatsoever of him. The boy then looked + timidly about the school in quest of a friendly face, and indeed few faces + except friendly ones were turned upon him. + </p> + <p> + Several of the scholars rose up simultaneously to speak to him; but the + pedagogue angrily inquired why they had left their seats and their + business. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” said a young Munsterman, with a fine Milesian face—“be + gorra, sir, I believe if we don't welcome the poor scholar, I think you + won't. This is the boy, sir, that Mr. O'Brien came along wid yistherday, + an' spoke so well of.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that, Thady; and Misther O'Brien thinks, because he himself first + passed through that overgrown hedge-school wid slates upon the roof of it, + called Thrinity College, and matriculated in Maynooth afther, that he has + legal authority to recommend every young vagrant to the gratuitous + benefits of legitimate classicality. An' I suppose, that you are acting + the Pathrun, too, Thady, and intind to take this young wild-goose under + your protection?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, isn't he a poor scholar? Sure he mustn't want his bit an' sup, + nor his night's lodgin', anyhow. You're to give him his larnin' only, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so, Mr. Thaddeus; but this is the penalty of celebrity. If I + weren't so celebrated a man for classics as I am, I would have none of + this work. I tell you, Thady, if I had fifty sons I wouldn't make one o' + them celebrated.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait till you have one first, sir, and you may make him as great a + numskull as you plase, Master.” + </p> + <p> + “But in the meantime, Thady, I'll have no dictation from you, as to + whether I have one or fifty; or as to whether he'll be an ass or a Newton. + I say that a dearth of larnin' is like a year of famine in Ireland. When + the people are hard pushed, they bleed the fattest bullocks, an' live on + their blood; an' so it is wid us Academicians. It's always he that has the + most larned blood in his veins, and the greatest quantity of it that such + hungry leeches fasten on.” + </p> + <p> + “Thrue for you, sir,” said the youth with a smile; “but they say the + bullocks always fatten the betther for it. I hope you'll bleed well now, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Thady, I don't like, the curl of your nose; an', moreover, I have always + found you prone to sedition. You remember your conduct at the 'Barring + out.' I tell you it's well that your worthy father is a dacent wealthy + man, or I'd be apt to give you a <i>memoria technica</i> on the <i>subtratum</i>, + Thady.” + </p> + <p> + “God be praised for my father's wealth, sir! But I'd never wish to have a + good memory in the way you mention.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, an' I'll be apt to add that to your other qualities, if you don't + take care of yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I want no such addition, Masther; if you do, you'll be apt to subtract + yourself from this neighborhood, an', maybe, ther'e won't be more than a + cipher gone out of it, afther all.” + </p> + <p> + “Thady, you're a wag,” exclaimed the crestfallen pedagogue; “take the lad + to your own sate, and show him his task. How! is your sister's sore + throat, Thady?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” replied the benevolent young wit, “she's betther than I am. + She can swallow more, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Not of larnin', Thady; there you've the widest gullet in the parish.” + </p> + <p> + “My father's the richest man in it, Masther,” replied Thady. “I think, + sir, my! gullet and his purse are much about the same size—wid you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thady, you're first-rate at a reply;—but exceedingly deficient in + the retort courteous. Take the lad to your sate, I say, and see how far he + is advanced, and what he is fit for. I suppose, as you are so ginerous, + you will volunteer to tache him yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do that wid pleasure, sir; but I'd like to know whether you intind + to tache him or not.” + </p> + <p> + “An' I'd like to know, Thady, who's to pay me for it, if I do. A purty + return Michael Rooney made me for making him such a linguist as he is. + 'You're a tyrant,' said he, when he grew up, 'and instead of expecting me + to thank you for your instructions, you ought to thank me for not + preparing you for the county hospital, as a memento of the cruelty and + brutality you made me feel, when I had the misfortune to be a poor + scholar! under you.' And so, because he became curate of the parish, he + showed me the outside of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But will you tache this poor young boy, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me know who's to guarantee his payments.” + </p> + <p> + “I have money myself, sir, to pay you for two years,” replied Jemmy. 'They + told me, sir, that you were a great scholar, an' I refused to stop in + other schools by rason of the name you have for Latin and Greek.” + </p> + <p> + “Verbum sat,” exclaimed the barefaced knave. “Come here. Now, you see, I + persave you have dacency. Here is your task; get that half page by heart. + You have a cute look, an' I've no doubt but the stuff's in you. Come to me + afther dismiss, 'till we have a little talk together.” + </p> + <p> + He accordingly pointed out the task, after which he placed him at his + side, lest the inexperienced boy might be put on his guard by any of the + scholars. In this intention, however, he was frustrated by Thady, who, as + he thoroughly detested the knavish tyrant, resolved to caution the poor + scholar against his dishonesty. Thady, indeed most heartily despised the + mercenary pedagogue, not only for his obsequiousness to the rich, but on + account of his severity to the children of the poor. About two o'clock the + young wag went out for a few minutes, and immediately returned in great + haste to inform the master, that Mr. Delaney, the parish priest, and two + other gentlemen wished to see him over at the Cross-Keys, an inn which was + kept at a place called the Nine Mile House, within a few perches of the + school. The parish priest, though an ignorant, insipid old man, was the + master's patron, and his slightest wish a divine law to him. The little + despot, forgetting his prey, instantly repaired to the Cross-Keys, and in + his absence, Thady, together with the larger boys of the school, made + M'Evoy acquainted with the fraud about to be practised on him. + </p> + <p> + “His intintion,” said they, “is to keep you at home to-night, in ordher to + get whatever money you have into his own hands, that he may keep it safe + for you; but if you give him a penny, you may bid farewell to it. Put it + in the curate's hands,” added Thady, “or in my father's, an' thin it'll be + safe. At all evints, don't stay wid him this night. He'll take your money + and then turn you off in three or four weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't intind to give him my money,” replied Jemmy; “a schoolmaster I + met on my way here, bid me not to do it. I'll give it to the priest.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it to the curate,” said Thady—“wid him it'll be safe; for the + parish priest doesn't like to throuble himself wid anything of the mind.” + </p> + <p> + This was agreed upon; the boy was prepared against the designs of the + master, and a plan laid down for his future conduct. In the meantime, the + latter re-entered the school in a glow of indignation and disappointment. + </p> + <p> + Thady, however, disregarded him; and as the master knew that the influence + of the boy's father could at any time remove him from the parish, his + anger subsided without any very violent consequences. The parish priest + was his avowed patron, it is true; but if the parish priest knew that Mr. + O'Rorke was dissatisfied with him, that moment he would join Mr. O'Rorke + in expelling him: from the neighborhood. Mr. O'Rorke was a wealthy and a + hospitable man, but the schoolmaster was neither the one nor the other. + </p> + <p> + During school-hours that day, many a warm-hearted urchin entered into + conversation with the poor scholar; some moved by curiosity to hear his + brief and simple history; others anxious to offer him a temporary asylum + in their father's houses; and several to know if he had the requisite + books, assuring him if he had not they would lend, them to him. These + proofs of artless generosity touched the homeless youth's heart the more + acutely, inasmuch as he could perceive but too clearly that the eye of the + master rested upon him, from time to time, with no auspicious glance. + </p> + <p> + When the scholars were dismissed, a scene occurred which was calculated to + produce a smile, although it certainly placed the poor scholar in a + predicament by no means agreeable. It resulted from a contest among the + boys as to who should first bring him home. The master who, by that + cunning for which the knavish are remarkable, had discovered in the course + of the day that his designs upon the boy's money was understood, did not + ask him to his house. The contest was, therefore, among the scholars; who, + when the master had disappeared from the school-room, formed themselves + into a circle, of which Jemmy was the centre, each pressing his claim to + secure him. + </p> + <p> + “The right's wid me,” exclaimed Thady; “I stood to him all day, and I say + I'll have him for this night. Come wid me, Jimmy. Didn't I do most for you + to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll never forget your kindness,” replied poor Jemmy, quite alarmed at + the boisterous symptoms of pugilism which already began to appear. In + fact, many a tiny fist was shut, as a suitable, accompaniment to the + auguments with which they enforced their assumed rights. + </p> + <p> + “There, now,” continued Thady, “that I puts an ind to it; he says he'll + never forget my kindness. That's enough; come wid me, Jimmy.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it enough?” said a lad, who, if his father was less wealthy than + Thady's, was resolved to put strength of arm against strength of purse. + “Maybe it isn't enough! I say I bar it, if your fadher was fifty times as + rich!—Rich! Arrah, don't be comin' over us in regard of your riches, + man alive! I'll bring the sthrange boy home this very night, an' it isn't + your father's dirty money that'll prevint me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd advise you to get a double ditch about your nose,” replied Thady, + “before you begin to say anything disrespectful aginst my father.—Don't + think to ballyrag over me. I'll bring the boy, for I have the best right + to him. Didn't I do (* outwit) the masther on his account?” + </p> + <p> + “A double ditch about my nose?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you able to fight me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm able to thry it, anyhow, an' willin too.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you say you're able to fight me?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bring the boy home whether or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Thady's not your match, Jack Ratigan,” said another boy. “Why don't you + challenge your match?” + </p> + <p> + “If you say a word, I'll half-sole your eye. Let him say whether he's able + to fight me like a man or not. That's the chat.” + </p> + <p> + “Half-sole my eye! Thin here I am, an' why don't you do it. You're crowin' + over a boy that you're bigger than. I'll fight you for Thady. Now + half-sole my eye if you dar! Eh? Here's my eye, now! Arrah, be the holy + man, I'd—Don't we know the white hen's in you. Didn't Barny Murtagh + cow you at the black-pool, on Thursday last, whin we wor bathin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Ratigan,” said Thady, “peel an' turn out. I say, I am able to fight + you; an' I'll make you ate your words aginst my father, by way of givin' + you your dinner. An' I'll make the dacent strange boy walk home wid me + over your body—that is, if he'd not be afraid to dirty his feet.” + </p> + <p> + Ratigan and Thady immediately set to, and in a few minutes there were + scarcely a little pair of fists present that were not at work, either on + behalf of the two first combatants, or with a view to determine their own + private rights in being the first to exercise hospitality towards the + amazed poor scholar. The fact was, that while the two largest boys, were + arguing the point, about thirty or forty minor disputes all ran parallel + to theirs, and their mode of decision was immediately adopted by the + pugnacious urchins of the school. In this manner they were engaged, poor + Jemmy attempting to tranquillize and separate them, when the master, armed + in all his terrors, presented himself. + </p> + <p> + With the tact of a sly old disciplinarian, he first secured the door, and + instantly commenced the agreeable task of promiscuous castigation. Heavy + and vindictive did his arm descend upon those whom he suspected to have + cautioned the boy against his rapacity; nor amongst the warm-hearted lads, + whom he thwacked so cunningly, was Thady passed over with a tender hand. + Springs, bouncings, doublings, blowing of fingers, scratching of heads, + and rubbing of elbows—shouts of pain, and doleful exclamations, + accompanied by action that displayed surpassing agility-marked the effect + with which he plied the instrument of punishment. In the meantime the + spirit of reaction, to use a modern phrase, began to set in. The master, + while thus engaged in dispensing justice, first received a rather vigorous + thwack on the ear from behind, by an anonymous contributor, who gifted him + with what is called a musical ear, for it sang during five minutes + afterwards. The monarch, when turning round to ascertain the traitor, + received another insult on the most indefensible side, and that with a + cordiality of manner, that induced him to send his right hand + reconnoitring the invaded part. He wheeled round a second time with more + alacrity than before; but nothing less than the head of James could have + secured him on this occasion. The anonymous contributor sent him a fresh + article. This was supported by another kick behind: the turf began to fly; + one after another came in contact with his head and shoulders so rapidly, + that he found himself, instead of being the assailant, actually placed + upon his defence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page1099.jpg" + alt="Page 1099-- Received a Rather Vigorous Thwack on the Ear " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + The insurrection spread, the turf flew more thickly; his subjects closed + in upon him in a more compact body; every little fist itched to be at him; + the larger boys boldly laid in the facers, punched him in the stomach, I + treated him most opprobriously behind, every kick and cuff accompanied by + a memento of his cruelty; in short, they compelled him, like Charles the + Tenth, ignominiously to fly from his dominions. + </p> + <p> + On finding the throne vacant, some of them suggested that it ought to be + overturned altogether. Thady, however, who was the ringleader of the + rebellion, persuaded them to be satisfied with what they had accomplished, + and consequently succeeded in preventing them from destroying the + fixtures. + </p> + <p> + Again they surrounded the poor scholar, who, feeling himself the cause of + the insurrection, appeared an object of much pity. Such was his grief that + he could scarcely reply to them. Their consolation on witnessing his + distress was overwhelming. They desired him to think nothing of it; if the + master, they told him, should wreak his resentment on him, “be the holy + farmer,” they would <i>pay</i> (* pay) the masther. Thady's claim was now + undisputed. With only the injury of a black eye, and a lip swelled to the + size of a sausage, he walked home in triumph, the poor scholar + accompanying him. + </p> + <p> + The master, who feared, that this open contempt of his authority, running + up, as it did, into a very unpleasant species of retaliation, was + something like a signal for him to leave the parish, felt rather more of + the penitent the next morning than did any of his pupils. He was by no + means displeased, therefore, to see them drop in about the usual hour. + They came, however, not one by one, but in compact groups, each officered + by two or three of the larger boys; for they feared that, had they entered + singly, he might have punished them singly, until his vengeance should be + satisfied. It was by bitter and obstinate struggles that they succeeded in + repressing their mirth, when he; appeared at his desk with one of his eyes + literally closed, and his nose considerably improved in size and richness + of color. When they were all assembled, he hemmed several times, and, in a + woo-begone tone of voice, split—by a feeble attempt at maintaining + authority and suppressing his terrors—into two parts, that jarred + most ludicrously, he briefly addressed them as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “Gintlemen classics, I have been now twenty-six years engaged in the + propagation of Latin and Greek litherature, in conjunction wid + mathematics, but never, until yesterday, has my influence been spurned; + never, until yesterday, have sacrilegious hands been laid upon my person; + never, until yesterday, have I been kicked—insidiously, ungallantly, + and treacherously kicked—by my own subjects. No, gintlemen,—and, + whether I ought to bestow that respectable epithet upon you after + yesterday's proceedings is a matter which admits of dispute,—never + before has the lid of my eye been laid drooping, and that in such a manner + that I' must be blind to the conduct of half of my pupils, whether I will + or not. You have complained, it appears, of my want of impartiality; but, + God knows, you have compelled me to be partial for a week to come. Neither + blame me if I may appear to look upon you with scorn for the next + fortnight; for I am compelled to turn up my nose at you much against my + own inclination. You need never want an illustration of the <i>naso adunco</i> + of Horace again; I'm a living example of it. That, and the doctrine of + projectile forces, have been exemplified in a manner that will prevent me + from ever relishing these subjects in future. No king can consider himself + properly such until after he has received the oil of consecration; but + you, it appears, think differently. You have unkinged me first, and + anointed me afterwards; but, I say, no potentate would relish such + unction. It smells confoundedly of republicanism. Maybe this is what you + understand by the Republic of Letters; but, if it be, I would advise you + to change your principles. You treated my ribs as if they were the ribs of + a common man; my shins you took liberties with even to excoriation; my + head you made a target of, for your hardest turf; and my nose you + dishonored to my fage. Was this ginerous? was it discreet? was it + subordinate? and, above all, was it classical? However, I will show you + what greatness of mind is. I will convince you that it is more noble and + god-like to forgive an injury, or rather five dozen injuries, than to + avenge one; when—hem—-yes, I say, when I—I—might + so easily avenge it. I now present you wid an amnesty: return to you + allegiance; but never, while in this seminary, under my tuition, attempt + to take the execution of the laws into your own hands. Homerians, come + up!” + </p> + <p> + This address, into which he purposely threw a dash of banter and mock + gravity, delivered with the accompaniments of his swelled nose and + drooping eye, pacified his audience more readily than a serious one would + have done. It was received without any reply or symptom of disrespect, + unless the occasional squeak of a suppressed laugh, or the visible shaking + of many sides with inward convulsions, might be termed such. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the day, it is true, their powers of maintaining gravity + were put to a severe test, particularly when, while hearing a class, he + began to adjust his drooping eye-lid, or coax back his nose into its + natural, position. On these occasions a sudden pause might be noticed in + the business of the class; the boy's voice, who happened to read at the + time, would fail him; and, on resuming his sentence by command of the + master, its tone was tremulous, and scarcely adequate to the task of + repeating the words without his bursting into laughter. The master + observed all this clearly enough, but his mind was already made up to take + no further notice of what had happened. + </p> + <p> + All this, however, conduced to render the situation of the poor scholar + much more easy, or rather less penal, than it would otherwise have been. + Still the innocent lad was on all possible occasions a butt for this + miscreant. To miss a word was a pretext for giving him a cruel blow. To + arrive two or three minutes later than the appointed hour was certain on + his part to be attended with immediate punishment. Jemmy bore it all with + silent heroism. He shed no tear—he uttered no remonstrance; but, + under the anguish of pain so barbarously inflicted, he occasionally looked + round upon his schoolfellows with an I expression of silent entreaty that + was seldom lost upon them. Cruel to him the master often was; but to + inhuman barbarity the large scholars never permitted him to descend. + Whenever any of the wealthier farmers'-sons had neglected their lessons, + or deserved chastisement, the mercenary creature substituted a joke for + the birch; but as soon as the son of a poor man, or, which was better + still, the poor scholar, came before him, he transferred that punishment + which the wickedness or idleness of respectable boys deserved, to his or + their shoulders. For this outrageous injustice the hard-hearted: old + villain had some plausible excuse ready, so that it was in many cases + difficult for Jemmy's generous companions to interfere; in his behalf, or + parry the sophistry of such: a petty tyrant. + </p> + <p> + In this miserable way did he pass over the tedious period of a year, going + about every night in rotation with the scholars, and severely beaten on + all possible occasions by the master. His conduct and manners won him: the + love and esteem of all except his tyrant instructor. His assiduity was + remarkable, and his progress in the elements of English and classical + literature surprisingly rapid. This added considerably to his character, + and procured him additional respect. It was not long before he made + himself useful and obliging to all the boys beneath his standing in the + school. These services he rendered with an air of such kindness, and a + grace so naturally winning, that the attachment of his schoolfellows + increased towards him from day to day. Thady was his patron on all + occasions: neither did the curate neglect him. The latter was his banker, + for the boy had very properly committed his purse to his keeping. At the + expiration of every quarter the schoolmaster received the amount of his + bill, which he never failed to send in, when due. + </p> + <p> + Jemmy had not, during his first year's residence in the south, forgotten + to request the kind curate's interference with the landlord, on behalf of + his father. To be the instrument of restoring his family to their former + comfortable holding under Colonel B———; would have + afforded him, without excepting the certainty of his own eventual success, + the highest gratification. Of this, however, there was no hope, and + nothing remained for him but assiduity in his studies, and patience under + the merciless scourge of his teacher. In addition to an engaging person + and agreeable manners, nature had gifted him with a high order of + intellect, and great powers of acquiring knowledge. The latter he applied + to the business before him with indefatigable industry. The school at; + which he settled was considered the first in Munster; and the master, + notwithstanding his known severity, stood high, and justly so, in the + opinion of the people, as an excellent classical and mathematical scholar. + Jemmy applied himself to the study of both, and at the expiration of his + second year had made such progress that he stood without a rival in the + school. + </p> + <p> + It is usual, as we have said, for the poor scholar to go night after + night, in rotation, with his schoolfellows; he is particularly welcome in + the houses of those farmers whose children are not so far advanced as + himself. It is expected that he should instruct them in the evenings, and + enable them, to prepare their lessons for the following day, a task which + he always performs with pleasure, because in teaching them he is + confirming his own mind in the knowledge which he has previously acquired. + Towards the end of the second year, however, he ceased to circulate in + this manner. Two or three of the most independent parishioners, whose sons + were only commencing their studies, agreed to keep him week about; an + arrangement highly convenient to him, as by that means he was not so + frequently dragged, as he had been, to the remotest parts of the parish. + Being an expert penman, he acted also as secretary of grievances to the + poor, who frequently employed him to draw up petitions to obdurate + landlords, or to their more obdurate agents, and letters to soldiers in + all parts of the world, from their anxious and affectionate relations. All + these little services he performed kindly and promptly; many a blessing + was fervently invoked upon his head; the “good word” and “the prayer” were + all they could afford, as they said, “to the bouchal dhas oge * that tuck + the world an him for sake o' the larnin', an' that hasn't the kindliness + o' the mother's breath an' the mother's hand near him, the crathur.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The pretty young boy. Boy in Ireland does not always + imply youth. +</pre> + <p> + About the middle of the third year he was once more thrown upon the + general hospitality of the people. The three farmers with whom he had + lived for the preceding six months emigrated to America, as did many + others of that class which, in this country, most nearly approximates to + the substantial yeomanry of England. The little purse, too, which he had + placed in the hands of the kind priest, was exhausted; a season of famine, + sickness, and general distress had set in; and the master, on + understanding that he was without money, became diabolically savage. In + short, the boy's difficulties increased to a perplexing degree. Even Thady + and his grown companions, who usually interposed in his behalf when the + master became excessive in correcting him, had left the school, and now + the prospect before him was dark and cheerless indeed. For a few months + longer, however, he struggled on, meeting every difficulty with meek + endurance. From his very boyhood he had reverenced the sanctity of + religion, and was actuated by a strong devotional spirit. He trusted in + God, and worshipped Him night and morning with a sincere heart. + </p> + <p> + At this crisis he was certainly an object of pity; his clothes, which, for + some time before had been reduced to tatters, he had replaced by a + cast-off coat and small-clothes, a present from his friend the Curate, who + never abandoned him. This worthy young man could not afford him money, for + as he had but fifty pounds a year, with which to clothe, subsist himself, + keep a horse, and pay rent, it was hardly to be expected that his + benevolence could be extensive. In addition to this, famine and contagious + disease raged with formidable violence in the parish; so that the claims + upon his bounty of hundreds who lay huddled together in cold cabins, in + out-houses, and even behind ditches, were incessant as well, as + heart-rending. The number of interments that took place daily in the + parish was awful; nothing could be seen but funerals attended by groups of + ragged and emaciated creatures from whose hollow eyes gleamed forth the + wolfish fire of famine. The wretched mendicants were countless, and the + number of coffins that lay on the public roads—where, attended by + the nearest relatives of the deceased, they had been placed for the + purpose of procuring charity—were greater than ever had been + remembered by the oldest inhabitant. + </p> + <p> + Such was the state of the parish when our poor scholar complained one day + in school of severe illness. The early symptoms of the prevailing epidemic + were well known; and, on examining more closely into his situation, it was + clear that, according to the phraseology of the people, he had “got the + faver on his back”—had caught “a heavy load of the faver.” The Irish + are particularly apprehensive of contagious maladies. The moment it had + been discovered that Jemmy was infected, his schoolfellows avoided him + with a feeling of terror scarcely credible, and the inhuman master was + delighted at any circumstance, however calamitous, that might afford him a + pretext for driving the friendless youth out of the school. + </p> + <p> + “Take,” said he, “every thing belongin' to you out of my establishment: + you were always a plague to me, but now more so than ever. Be quick, + sirra, and nidificate for yourself somewhere else. Do you want to + thranslate my siminary into an hospital, and myself into Lazarus, as + president? Go off, you wild goose! and conjugate <i>aegroto</i> wherever + you find a convenient spot to do it in.” The poor boy silently and with + difficulty arose, collected his books, and, slinging on his satchel, + looked to his schoolfellows, as if he had said, “Which of you will afford + me a place where to lay my aching head?” All, however, kept aloof from + him; he had caught the contagion, and the contagion, they knew, had swept + the people away in vast numbers. At length he spoke. “Is there any boy + among you,” he inquired, “who will bring me home? You know I am a + stranger, an' far from my own, God help me!” + </p> + <p> + This was followed by a profound silence. Not one of those who had so often + befriended him, or who would, on any other occasion, share their bed and + their last morsel with him, would even touch his person, much less allow + him, when thus plague-stricken, to take shelter under their roof. Such are + the effects of selfishness, when it is opposed only by the force of those + natural qualities that are not elevated into a sense of duty by clear and + profound views of Christian truth. It is one thing to perform a kind + action from constitutional impulse, and another to perform it as a fixed + duty, perhaps contrary to that impulse. + </p> + <p> + Jemmy, on finding himself avoided like a Hebrew leper of old, silently + left the school, and walked on without knowing whither he should + ultimately direct his steps. He thought of his friend the priest, but the + distance between him and his place of abode was greater, he felt, than his + illness would permit him to travel. He walked on, therefore, in such a + state of misery as can scarcely be conceived, much less described. His + head ached excessively, an intense pain shot like death-pangs through his + lower back and loins, his face was flushed, and his head giddy. In this + state he proceeded, without money or friends; without a house to shelter + him, or a bed on which to lie, far from his own relations, and with the + prospect of death, under circumstances peculiarly dreadful, before him! He + tottered on, however, the earth, as he imagined, reeling under him; the + heavens, he thought, streaming with fire, and the earth indistinct and + discolored. Home, the paradise of the absent—home, the heaven of the + affections—with all its tenderness and blessed sympathies, rushed + upon his heart. His father's deep but quiet kindness, his mother's + sedulous love; his brothers, all that they had been to him—these, + with their thousand heart-stirring associations, started into life before + him again and again. But he was now ill, and the mother—Ah! the + enduring sense of that mother's love placed her brightest, and strongest, + and tenderest, in the far and distant group which his imagination bodied + forth. + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” he exclaimed—“Oh, mother, why—why did I ever lave + you? Mother! the son you loved is dyin' without a kind word, lonely and + neglected, in a strange land! Oh, my own mother! why did I ever lave you?” + </p> + <p> + The conflict between his illness and his affections overcame him; he + staggered—he grasped as if for assistance at the vacant air—he + fell, and lay for some time in a state of insensibility. + </p> + <p> + The season was then that of midsummer, and early meadows were falling + before the scythe. As the boy sank to the earth, a few laborers were + eating their scanty dinner of bread and milk so near him, that only a dry + low ditch ran between him and them. They had heard his words indistinctly, + and one of them was putting the milk bottle to his lips when, attracted by + the voice, he looked in the direction of the speaker, and saw him fall. + They immediately recognized “the poor scholar,” and in a moment were + attempting to recover him. + </p> + <p> + “Why thin, my poor fellow, what's a shaughran wid you?” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy started for a moment, looked about him, and asked, “Where am I?” + </p> + <p> + “Faitha, thin, you're in Rory Connor's field, widin a few perches of the + high-road. But what ails you, poor boy? Is it sick you are?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” he replied; “I have got the faver. I had to lave school; none o' + them would take me home, an' I doubt I must die in a Christian counthry + under the open canopy of heaven. Oh, for God's sake, don't lave me! Bring + me to some hospital, or into the next town, where people may know that I'm + sick, an' maybe some kind Christian will relieve me.” + </p> + <p> + The moment he mentioned “faver,” the men involuntarily drew back, after + having laid him reclining against the green ditch. + </p> + <p> + “Thin, thundher an' turf, what's to be done?” exclaimed one of them, + thrusting his spread fingers into his hair. “Is the poor boy to die widout + help among Christyeens like us?” + </p> + <p> + “But hasn't he the sickness?” exclaimed another: “an' in that case, + Pether, what's to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you gommoch, isn't that what I'm wantin' to know? You wor ever and + always an ass, Paddy, except before you wor born, an' thin you wor like + Major M'Curragh, worse nor nothin'. Why the sarra do you be spakin' about + the sickness, the Lord protect us, whin you know I'm so timersome of it?” + </p> + <p> + “But considher,” said another, edging off from Jemmy, however, “that he's + a poor scholar, an' that there's a great blessin' to thim that assists the + likes of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, is there that, sure enough, Dan; but you see—blur-an-age, + what's to be done? He can't die this way, wid nobody wid him but himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us help him!” exclaimed another, “for God's sake, an' we won't be apt + to take it thin.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but how can we help him, Frank? Oh, bedad, it 'ud be a murdherin' + shame, all out, to let the crathur die by himself, widout company, so it + would.” + </p> + <p> + “No one wul take him in, for fraid o' the sickness. Why, I'll tell you + what we'll do:—Let us shkame the remainder o' this day off o' the + Major, an' build a shed for him on the road-side here, jist against the + ditch. It's as dhry as powdher. Thin we can go through the neighbors, an' + git thim to sit near him time about, an' to bring him little <i>dhreeniens</i> + o' nourishment.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a purtier! Come thin, let us get a lot o' the neighbors, an' set + about it, poor bouchal. Who knows but it may bring down a blessin' upon us + aither in this world or the next.” + </p> + <p> + “Amin! I pray Gorra! an' so it will sure I doesn't the Catechiz say it? + 'There is but one Church,' says the Catechiz, 'one Faith, an' one + Baptism.' Bedad, there's a power o' fine larnin' in the same Catechiz, so + there is, an' mighty improvin'.” + </p> + <p> + An Irishman never works for wages with half the zeal which he displays + when working for love. Ere many hours passed, a number of the neighbors + had assembled, and Jemmy found himself on a bunch of clean straw, in a + little shed erected for him at the edge of the road. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it would be impossible to conceive a more gloomy state of misery + than that in which young M'Evoy found himself. Stretched on the side of + the public road, in a shed formed of a few loose sticks covered over with + “scraws,” that is, the sward of the earth pared into thin stripes—removed + above fifty perches from any human habitation—his body racked with a + furious and oppressive fever—his mind conscious of all the horrors + by which he was surrounded—without the comforts even of a bed or + bedclothes—and, what was worst of all, those from whom he might + expect kindness, afraid; to approach him! Lying helpless, under these + circumstances, it ought not to be wondered at, if he wished that death + might at once close his extraordinary sufferings, and terminate those + straggles which filial piety had prompted him to encounter. + </p> + <p> + This certainly is a dark picture, but our humble hero knew that even there + the power and goodness of God could support him. The boy trusted in God; + and when removed into his little shed, and stretched upon his clean straw, + he felt that his situation was, in good sooth, comfortable when contrasted + with what it might have been, if left to perish behind a ditch, exposed to + the scorching-heat of the sun by day, and the dews of heaven by night. He + felt the hand of God even in this, and placed himself, with a short but + fervent prayer, under his fatherly protection. + </p> + <p> + Irishmen however, are not just that description of persons who can pursue + their usual avocations, and see a fellow-creature-die, without such + attentions as they can afford him; not precisely so bad as that, gentle + reader! Jemmy had not been two hours on his straw, when a second shed much + larger than his own, was raised within a dozen yards of it: In this a fire + was lit; a small pot was then procured, milk was sent in, and such other + little comforts brought together, as they supposed necessary for the sick + boy. Having accomplished these matters, a kind of guard was set to watch + and nurse-tend him; a pitchfork was got, on the prongs of which they + intended to reach him bread across the ditch; and a long-shafted shovel + was borrowed, on which to furnish him drink with safety to themselves. + That inextinguishable vein of humor, which in Ireland mingles even with + death and calamity, was also visible here. The ragged, half-starved + creatures laughed heartily at the oddity of their own inventions, and + enjoyed the ingenuity with which they made shift to meet the exigencies of + the occasion, without in the slightest degree having their sympathy and + concern for the afflicted youth lessened. + </p> + <p> + When their arrangements were completed, one of them (he of the scythe) + made a little whey, which, in lieu of a spoon, he stirred with the end of + his tobacco-pipe; he then extended it across the ditch upon the shovel, + after having put it in a tin porringer. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want a taste o' whay, avourneen?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do,” replied Jemmy; “give me a drink for God's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “There it is, <i>a bouchal</i>, on the shovel. Musha if myself rightly + knows what side you're lyin' an, or I'd put it as near your lips as I + could. Come, man, be stout, don't be cast down at all at all; sure, + bud-an-age, we' shovelin' the way to you, any how.” + </p> + <p> + “I have it,” replied the boy—“oh, I have it. May God never forget + this to you, whoever you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, if you want to know who I am; I'm Pettier Connor the mower, that + never seen to-morrow. Be Gorra, poor boy, you mustn't let your spirits + down at all at all. Sure the neighbors is all bint to watch an' take care + of you.—May I take away the shovel?—an' they've built a brave + snug shed here beside yours, where they'll stay wid you time about until + you get well. We'll feed you wid whay enough, bekase we've made up our + minds to stale lots o' sweet milk for you. Ned Branagan an' I will milk + Kody Hartigan's cows to-night, wid the help o' God. Divil a bit sin in it, + so there isn't, an' if there is, too, be my sowl there's no harm in it any + way—for he's but a nager himself, the same Rody. So, acushla, keep a + light heart, for, be Gorra, you're sure o' the thin pair o' throwsers, any + how. Don't think you're desarted—for you're not. It's all in regard + o' bein' afeard o' this faver, or it's not this way you'd be; but, as I + said a while agone, when you want anything, spake, for you'll still find + two or three of us beside you here, night an' day. Now, won't you promise + to keep your mind asy, when you know that we're beside you?” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you,” replied Jemmy, “you've taken a weight off of my heart. I + thought I'd die wid nobody near me at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the sorra fear of it. Keep your heart up. We'll stale lots o' milk + for you. Bad scran to the baste in the parish but we'll milk, sooner nor + you'd want the whay, you crathur you.” + </p> + <p> + The boy felt relieved, but his malady increased; and were it not that the + confidence of being thus watched and attended to supported him, it is more + than probable he would have sunk under it. + </p> + <p> + When the hour of closing the day's labor arrived, Major ——— + came down to inspect the progress which his mowers had made, and the + goodness of his crop upon his meadows. No sooner was he perceived at a + distance, than the scythes were instantly resumed, and the mowers pursued + their employment with an appearance of zeal and honesty that could not be + suspected. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at the meadows, however, he was evidently startled at the + miserable day's work they had performed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Connor,” said he, addressing the nurse-tender, “how is this? I + protest you have not performed half a day's labor! This is miserable and + shameful.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, Major, it's thrue for your honor, sure enough. It's a poor day's + work, the I never a doubt of it. But be all the books; that never was + opened or shut, busier men! than we wor since mornin' couldn't be had; for + love or money. You see, Major, these meadows, bad luck to them!—God + pardon me for cursin' the harmless crathurs, for sure 'tisn't their fau't, + sir: but you see, Major, I'll insinse you into it. Now look here, your + honor. Did you ever see deeper: meadow nor that same, since you war foal—-hem—sintce + you war born, your honor? Maybe, your honor, Major, 'ud just take the + scythe an' sthrive to cut a swaythe?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Connor; don't you know I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “Thin, be Gorra, sir, I wish you could; thry it. I'd kiss the book, we did + more labor, an' worked harder this day, nor any day for the last + fortnight. If it was light grass, sir—see here, Major, here's alight + bit—now, look at how the scythe runs through it! Thin look at here + agin—just observe this, Major—why, murdher alive, don't you + see how slow she goes through that where the grass is heavy! Bedad, Major, + you'll be made up this suson wid your hay, any how. Divil carry the finer + meadow ever I put the scythe in nor this same meadow, God bless it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see it, Connor; I agree with you as to its goodness. But the + reason of that is, Connor, that I always direct my steward myself in + laying it down for grass. Yes, you're right, Connor; if the meadow were + light, you could certainly mow comparatively a greater space in a day.” + </p> + <p> + “Be the livin' farmer, God pardon me for swearin', it's a pleasure to have + dalins wid a gintleman like you, that knows things as cute as if you war a + mower yourself, your honor. Bedad, I'll go bail, sir, it wouldn't be hard + to tache you that same.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to tell you the truth, Connor, you have hit me off pretty well. I'm + beginning to get a taste for agriculture.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Connor, scratching his head, “won't your honor allow us the + price of a glass, or a pint o' portlier, for our hard day's work. Bad cess + to me, sir, but this meadow 'ill play the puck wid us afore we get it + finished.—Atween ourselves, sir—if it wouldn't be takin' + freedoms—if you'd look to your own farmin' yourself. The steward, + sir, is a dacent kind of a man; but, sowl, he couldn't hould a candle to + your honor in seein' to the best way of doin' a thing, sir. Won't you + allow us glasses apiece, your honor? Faix, we're kilt entirely, so we + are.” + </p> + <p> + “Here is half-a-crown among you, Connor; but don't get drunk.” + </p> + <p> + “Dhrunk! Musha, long may you reign, Sir! Be the scythe in my hand, I'd + rather—Och, faix, you're one o' the ould sort, sir—the raal + Irish gintleman, your honor. An' sure your name's far and near for that, + any how.” + </p> + <p> + Connor's face would have done the heart of Brooke or Cruikshank good, had + either of them seen it charged with humor so rich as that which beamed + upon it, when the Major left them to enjoy their own comments upon what + had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, be the livin' farmer,” said Connor, “are we all alive at all afther + doin' the Major! Pp., thin, the curse o' the crows upon you, pijor, + darlin', but you are a Manus!* The damn' rip o' the world, that wouldn't + give the breath he breathes to the poor for God's sake, and he'll threwn a + man half-a-crown that 'll blarney him for farmin', and him doesn't know + the differ atween a Cork-red a Yellow-leg.” ** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * A soft booby easily hoaxed. + + **Different kinds of potatoes. +</pre> + <p> + “Faith, he's the boy that knows how to make a Judy of himself any way, + Pether,” exclaimed another. “The divil a hapurt'h asier nor to give these + Quality the bag to hould, so there isn't. An' they think themselves so + cute, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Augh!” said a third, “couldn't a man find the soft side o' them as asy as + make out the way to' his own nose, widout being led to it. Divil a sin it + is to do them, any way. Sure, he thinks we wor tooth an' nail at the + meadow all day; an' me thought I'd never recover it, to see Pether here—the + rise he tuck out of him! Ha, ha, ha—och, och, murdher, oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Faith,” exclaimed Connor, “'twas good, you see, to help the poor scholar; + only for it we couldn't get shkamin' the half-crown out of him. I think we + ought to give the crathur half of it, an' him so sick: he'll be wantin' it + worse nor ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, be Gorra, he's fairly entitled to that. I vote him fifteen pince.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely!” they exclaimed unanimously. “Tundher-an'-turf! wasn't he the + manes of gettin' it for us?” + </p> + <p> + “Jemmy, a bouchal,” said Connor, across the ditch to M'Evoy, “are you + sleepin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Sleepin'! Oh, no,” replied Jemmy; “I'd give the wide world for one wink + of asy sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, aroon, here's fifteen pince for you, that we skham—Will I + tell him how we cot it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, don't,” replied his neighbors; “the boy's given to devotion, and + maybe might scruple to take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Here's fifteen pince, avourneen, on the shovel, that we're givin' you for + God's sake. If you over * this, won't you offer up a prayer for us? Won't + you, avick?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *That is—to get over—to survive. +</pre> + <p> + “I can never forget your kindness,” replied Jemmy; “I will always pray for + you, and may God for ever bless you and yours! + </p> + <p> + “Poor crathur! May the Heavens above have prosthration on him! Upon my + sowl, it's good to have his blessin' an' his prayer. Now don't fret, + Jemmy; we're lavin' you wid a lot o' neighbors here. They'll watch you + time about, so that whin you want anything, call, avourneen, an' there'll + still be some one here to answer. God bless you, an' restore you, till we + come wid the milk we'll stale for you, wid the help o' God. Bad cess to + me, but it 'ud be a mortual sin, so it would, to let the poor boy die at + all, an' him so far from home. For, as the Catechiz says 'There is but one + Faith, one Church, and one Baptism!' Well, the readin' that's in that + Catechiz is mighty improvin', glory be to God!” + </p> + <p> + It would be utterly impossible to detail the affliction which our poor + scholar suffered in this wretched shed, for the space of a fortnight, + notwithstanding the efforts of those kind-hearted people to render his + situation comfortable. + </p> + <p> + The little wigwam they had constructed near him was never, even for a + moment, during his whole illness, without two or three persons ready to + attend him. In the evening their numbers increased; a fire was always kept + burning, over which a little pot for making whey or gruel was suspended. + At night they amused each other with anecdotes and laughter, and + occasionally with songs, when certain that their patient was not asleep. + Their exertions to steal milk for him were performed with uncommon glee, + and related among themselves with great humor. These thefts would have + been unnecessary, had not the famine which then prevailed through the + province been so excessive. The crowds that swarmed about the houses of + wealthy farmers, supplicating a morsel to keep body and soul together, + resembled nothing which our English readers ever had an opportunity of + seeing. Ragged, emaciated creatures, tottered about with an expression of + wildness and voracity in their gaunt features; fathers and mothers reeled + under the burthen of their beloved children, the latter either sick, or + literally expiring for want of food; and the widow, in many instances, was + compelled to lay down her head to die, with the wail, the feeble wail, of + her withered orphans mingling with her last moans! In such a state of + things it was difficult to procure a sufficient quantity of milk to allay + the natural thirst even of one individual, when parched by the scorching + heat of a fever. Notwithstanding this, his wants were for the most part + anticipated, so far as their means would allow them; his shed was kept + waterproof; and either shovel or pitchfork always ready to be extended to + him, by way of substitution for the right hand of fellowship. + </p> + <p> + When he called for anything, the usual observation was, “Husht! the + crathur's callin'. I must take the shovel an' see what he wants.” + </p> + <p> + There were times, it is true, when the mirth of the poor fellows was' very + low, for hunger was generally among themselves; there were times when + their own little shed presented a touching and melancholy spectacle—perhaps + we ought also to add, a noble one; for, to contemplate a number of men, + considered rude and semi-barbarous, devoting themselves, in the midst of + privations the most cutting and oppressive, to the care and preservation + of a strange lad, merely because they knew him to be without friends and + protection, is to witness a display of virtue truly magnanimous. The food + on which some of the persons were occasionally compelled to live, was + blood boiled up with a little oatmeal; for when a season of famine occurs + in Ireland, the people usually bleed the cows and bullocks to preserve + themselves from actual starvation. It is truly a sight of appalling misery + to behold feeble women gliding across the country, carrying their cans and + pitchers, actually trampling upon fertility, and fatness, and collected in + the corner of some grazier's farm waiting, gaunt and ravenous as Ghouls, + for their portion of blood. During these melancholy periods of want, + everything in the shape of an esculent disappears. The miserable creatures + will pick up chicken-weed, nettles, sorrell, bug-loss, preshagh, and + sea-weed, which they will boil and eat with the voracity of persons + writhing under the united agonies of hunger and death! Yet the very + country thus groaning under such a terrible sweep of famine is actually + pouring from all her ports a profusion of food, day after day; flinging it + from her fertile bosom, with the wanton excess of a prodigal oppressed by + abundance. + </p> + <p> + Despite, however, of all the poor scholar's nurse-guard suffered, he was + attended with a fidelity of care and sympathy which no calamity could + shake. Nor was this care fruitless; after the fever had passed through its + usual stages he began to recover. In fact, it has been observed very + truly, that scarcely any person has been known to die under circumstances + similar to those of the poor scholar. These sheds, the erection of which + is not unfrequent in case of fever, have the advantage of pure free air, + by which the patient is cooled and refreshed. Be the cause of it what it + may, the fact has been established, and we feel satisfaction in being able + to adduce our humble hero as an additional proof of the many recoveries + which take place in situations apparently so unfavorable to human life. + But how is it possible to detail what M'Evoy suffered during this + fortnight of intense agony? Not those who can command the luxuries of life—not + those who can reach its comforts—nor those who can supply themselves + with its bare necessaries—neither the cotter who struggles to + support his wife and helpless children—the mendicant who begs from + door to door—nor even the felon in his cell—can imagine what + he felt in the solitary misery of his feverish bed. Hard is the heart that + cannot feel his sorrows, when, stretched beside the common way, without a + human face to look on, he called upon the mother whose brain, had she + known his situation, would have been riven—whose affectionate heart + would have been broken, by the knowledge of his affliction. It was a + situation which afterwards appeared to him dark and terrible. The pencil + of the painter could not depict it, nor the pen of the poet describe it, + except like a dim vision, which neither the heart nor the imagination are + able to give to the world as a tale steeped in the sympathies excited by + reality. + </p> + <p> + His whole heart and soul, as he afterwards acknowledged, were, during his + trying illness, at home. The voices of his parents, of his sisters, and of + his brothers, were always in his ears; their countenances surrounded his + cold and lonely shed; their hands touched him; their eyes looked upon him + in sorrow—and their tears bedewed him. Even there, the light of his + mother's love, though she herself was distant, shone upon his sorrowful + couch; and he has declared, that in no past moment of affection did his + soul ever burn with a sense of its presence so strongly as it did in the + heart-dreams of his severest illness. But God is love, and “temporeth the + wind to the shorn lamb.” + </p> + <p> + Much of all his sufferings would have been alleviated, were it not that + his two best friends in the parish, Thady and the curate, had been both + prostrated by the fever at the same time with himself. There was + consequently no person of respectability in the neighborhood cognizant of + his situation. He was left to the humbler class of the peasantry, and + honorably did they, with all their errors and ignorance, discharge those + duties which greater wealth and greater knowledge would, probably, have + left unperformed. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the last day he ever intended to spend in the shed, at + eleven o'clock he hoard the sounds of horses' feet passing along the road, + The circumstance was one quite familiar to him; but these horsemen, + whoever they might be, stopped, and immediately after, two respectable + looking men, dressed in black, approached him. His forlorn state and + frightfully wasted appearance startled them, and the younger of the two + asked, in a tone of voice which went directly to his heart, how it was + that they found him in a situation so desolate. + </p> + <p> + The kind interest implied by the words, and probably a sense of his + utterly destitute state, affected him strongly, and he burst into tears. + The strangers looked at each other, then at him; and if looks could + express sympathy, theirs expressed it. + </p> + <p> + “My good boy,” said the first, “how is it that we find you in a situation + so deplorable and wretched as this? Who are you, or why is it that you + have not a friendly roof I to shelter you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm a poor scholar,” replied Jemmy, “the son of honest but reduced + parents: I came to this part of the country with the intention of + preparing myself for Maynooth and, if it might plase God, with the hope of + being able to raise them out of their distress.” + </p> + <p> + The strangers looked more earnestly at the boy; sickness had touched his + fine intellectual features into a purity of expression almost ethereal. + His fair skin appeared nearly transparent, and the light of truth and + candor lit up his countenance with a lustre which affliction could not + dim. + </p> + <p> + The other stranger approached him more nearly, stooped for a moment, and + felt his pulse. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been in this country?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Nearly three years.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been ill of the fever which is so prevalent; how did you come to + be left to the chance of perishing upon the highway?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, the people were afeard to let me into their houses in + consequence of the faver. I got ill in school, sir, but no boy would + venture to bring me home, an' the master turned me out, to die, I believe. + May God forgive him!” + </p> + <p> + “Who was your master, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “The great' Mr.———, sir. If Mr. O'Brien, the curate of + the parish, hadn't been ill himself at the same time, or if Mr. O'Rorke's + son, Thady, hadn't been laid on his back, too, sir, I wouldn't suffer what + I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Has the curate been kind to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, only for him and the big boys I couldn't stay in the school, on + account of the master's cruelty, particularly since my money was out.” + </p> + <p> + “You are better now—are you not?” said the other gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, sir!—oh, thanks be to the Almighty, I am! I expect to be + able to lave this place to-day or to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “And where do you intend to go when you recover?” + </p> + <p> + The boy himself had not thought of this, and the question came on him so + unexpectedly, that he could only reply— + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, sir, I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Had you,” inquired the second stranger, “testimonials from your parish + priest?” + </p> + <p> + “I had, sir: they are in the hands of Mr. O'Brien. I also had a character + from my father's landlord.” + </p> + <p> + “But how,” asked the other, “have you existed here during your illness? + Have you been long sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I can't tell you, sir, for I don't know how the time passed at + all; but I know, sir, that there were always two or three people attendin' + me. They sent me whatever they thought I wanted, upon a shovel or a + pitchfork, across the ditch, because they were afraid to come near me.” + </p> + <p> + During the early part of the dialogue, two or three old hats, or caubeens, + might have been seen moving steadily over from the wigwam to the ditch + which ran beside the shed occupied by M'Evoy. Here they remained + stationary, for those who wore them were now within hearing of the + conversation, and ready to give their convalescent patient a good word, + should it be necessary. + </p> + <p> + “How were you supplied with drink and medicine?” asked the younger + stranger. + </p> + <p> + “As I've just told you, sir,” replied Jemmy; “the neighbors here let me + want for nothing that they had. They kept me in more whey than I could + use; and they got me medicine, too, some way or other. But indeed, sir, + during a great part of the time I was ill, I can't say how they attended + me: I wasn't insinsible, sir, of what was goin' on about me.” + </p> + <p> + One of those who lay behind the ditch now arose, and after a few hems and + scratchings of the head, ventured to join in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Pray have you, my man,” said the elder of the two, “been acquainted with + the circumstances of this boy's illness?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it the poor scholar, my Lord?* Oh thin bedad it's myself that has + that. The poor crathur was in a terrible way all out, so he was. He caught + the faver in the school beyant, one day, an' was turned out by the nager + o' the world that he was larnin' from.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The peasantry always address a Roman Catholic Bishop + as “My Lord.” + </pre> + <p> + “Are you one of the persons who attended him?” + </p> + <p> + “Och, och, the crathar! what could unsignified people like us do for him, + barrin' a thrifle? Any how, my Lord, it's the meracle o' the world that he + was ever able to over it at all. Why, sir, good luck to the one of him but + suffered as much, wid the help o' God, as 'ud overcome fifty men!” + </p> + <p> + “How did you provide him with drink at such a distance from any human + habitation?” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, hard enough we found it, sir, to do that same: but sure, whether + or not, my Lord, we couldn't be sich nagers as to let him die all out, for + want o' sometlrm' to moisten his throath wid.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope,” inquired the other, “you had nothing to do in the milk-stealing + which has produced such an outcry in this immediate neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + “Milk-stalin'! Oh, bedad, sir, there never was the likes known afore in + the caunthry. The Lord forgive them, that did it! Be gorra, sir, the + wickedness o' the people': mighty improving if one 'ud take warnin' by it, + glory be to God!” + </p> + <p> + “Many of the fanners' cows have been milked at night, Connor—perfectly + drained. Even my own cows have not escaped; and we who have suffered are + certainly determined, if possible, to ascertain those who have committed + the theft. I, for my part, have gone even beyond my ability in relieving + the wants of the poor, during this period of sickness and famine; I + therefore deserved this the less.” + </p> + <p> + “By the powdbers, your honor, if any gintleman desarved to have his cows + <i>unmilked</i>, it's yourself. But, as I said this minute, there's no end + to the wickedness o' the people, so there's not, although the Catechiz is + against them; for, says it, 'there is but one Faith, one Church, an' one + Baptism.' Now, sir, isn't it quare that people, wid sich words in the book + afore them, won't be guided by it? I suppose they thought it only a <i>white</i> + sin, sir, to take the milk, the thieves o' the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, your honor,” said another, “that it was only to keep the life in + some poor sick crathur that wanted it more nor you or the farmers, that + they did it. There's some o' the same farmers desarve worse, for they're + keepin' up the prices o' their male and praties upon the poor, an' did so + all along, that they might make money by our outlier destitution.” + </p> + <p> + “That is no justification for theft,” observed the graver of the two. + “Does any one among you suspect those who committed it in this instance? + If you do, I command you, as your Bishop, to mention them.” + </p> + <p> + “How, for instance,” added the other, “were you able to supply this sick + boy with whey during his illness?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh thin, gintlemen,” replied Connor, dexterously parrying the question, + “but it's a mighty improvin' thing to see our own Bishop,—God spare + his Lordship to us!—an the Protestant minister o' the parish joinin' + together to relieve an' give good advice to the poor! Bedad, it's settin' + a fine example, so it is, to the Quality, if they'd take patthern by it.” + </p> + <p> + “Reply,” said the Bishop, rather sternly, “to the questions we have asked + you.” + </p> + <p> + “The quistions, your Lordship? It's proud an' happy we'd be to do what you + want; but the sarra man among us can do it, barin' we'd say what we ought + not to say. That's the thruth, my Lord; an' surely 'tisn't your Gracious + Reverence that 'ud want us to go beyant that?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” replied the Bishop. “I warn you both against falsehood + and fraud; two charges which might frequently be brought against you in + your intercourse with the gentry of the country, whom you seldom scruple + to deceive and mislead, by gliding into a character, when speaking to + them, that is often the reverse of your real one; whilst at the same time + you are both honest and sincere to persons of your own class. Put away + this practice, for it is both sinful and discreditable.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless your Lordship! an' many thanks to your Gracious Reverence for + advisin' us! Well we know that it's the blessed thing to folly your + words.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring over that naked, starved-looking man, who is stirring the fire + under that pot,” said the Hector. “He looks like Famine itself.” + </p> + <p> + “Paddy Dunn! will you come over here to his honor, Paddy! He's goin' to + give you somethin,” said Connor, adding of his own accord the last clause + of his message. + </p> + <p> + The tattered creature approached him with a gleam of expectation in his + eyes that appeared like insanity. + </p> + <p> + “God bless your honor for your goodness,” exclaimed Paddy. “It's me that's + in it, sir!—Paddy Dunn, sir, sure enough; but, indeed, I'm the next + thing to my own ghost, sir, now God help me!” + </p> + <p> + “What, and for whom are you cooking?” + </p> + <p> + “Jist the smallest dhrop in life, sir, o' gruel, to keep the sowl in that + lonely crathur, sir, the poor scholar.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray how long is it since you have eaten anything yourself?” + </p> + <p> + The tears burst from the eyes of the miserable creature as he replied— + </p> + <p> + “Before God in glory, your honor, an' in the presence of his Lordship + here, I only got about what 'ud make betther nor half a male widin the + last day, sir. 'Twas a weeshy grain o' male that I got from a friend; an' + as Ned Connor here tauld me that this crathur had nothin' to make the + gruel for him, why I shared it wid him, bekase he couldn't even beg it, + sir, if he wanted it, an' him not able to walk yit.” + </p> + <p> + The worthy pastor's eyes glistened with a moisture that did him honor. + Without a word of observation, he slipped a crown into the hand of Dunn, + who looked at it as if he had been paralyzed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh thin,” said he, fervently, “may every hair on your honor's head become + a mould-candle to light you into glory! The world's goodness is in your + heart, sir; an' may all the blessin's of Heaven rain down upon you an' + yours!” + </p> + <p> + The two gentlemen then gave assistance to the poor scholar, whom the + Bishop addressed in kind and encouraging language: + </p> + <p> + “Come to me, my good boy,” he added, “and if, on further inquiry, I find + that your conduct has been such as I believe it to have been, you may rest + assured, provided also you continue worthy of my good opinion, that I + shall be a friend and protector to you. Call on me when you got well, and + I will speak to you at greater length.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” observed Connor, when they were gone, “the divil's own hard puzzle + the Bishop had me in, about stalin' the milk. It went agin' the grain wid + me to tell him the lie, so I had to invint a bit o' truth to keep my + conscience clear; for sure there was not a man among us that could tell + him, barrin' we said that we oughtn't to say. Doesn't all the world know + that a man oughtn't to condimn himself? That was thruth, any way; but + divil a scruple I'd have in blammin' the other—not but that he's one + o' the best of his sort. Paddy Dunn, quit lookin' at that crown, but get + the shovel an' give the boy his dhrink—he's wantin' it.” + </p> + <p> + The agitation of spirits produced by Jemmy's cheering interview with the + Bishop was, for three days afterwards, somewhat prejudicial to his + convalescence. In less than a week, however, he was comfortably settled + with Mr. O'Rorke's family, whose kindness proved to him quite as warm as + he had expected. + </p> + <p> + When he had remained with them a few days, he resolved to recommence his + studies under his tyrant master. He certainly knew that his future + attendance at the school would be penal to him, but he had always looked + forward to the accomplishment of his hopes as a task of difficulty and + distress. The severity to be expected from the master could not, he + thought, be greater than that which he had already suffered; he therefore + decided, if possible, to complete his education under him. + </p> + <p> + The school, when Jemmy appeared in it, had been for more than an hour + assembled, but the thinness of the attendance not only proved the woful + prevalence of sickness and distress in the parish, but sharpened the + pedagogue's vinegar aspect into an expression of countenance singularly + peevish and gloomy. When the lad entered, a murmur of pleasure and welcome + ran through the scholars, and joy beamed forth from every countenance but + that of his teacher. When the latter noticed this, his irritability rose + above restraint, and he exclaimed:— + </p> + <p> + “Silence! and apply to business, or I shall cause some of you to denude + immediately. No school ever can prosper in which that <i>hirudo</i>, + called a poor scholar, is permitted toleration. I thought, sarra, I told + you to nidificate and hatch your wild project undher some other wing than + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I only entrate you,” replied our poor hero, “to suffer me to join the + class I left while I was sick, for about another year. I'll be very quiet + and humble, and, as far as I can, will do everything you wish me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are a crawling reptile,” replied the savage, “and, in my opinion, + nothing but a chate and impostor. I think you have imposed yourself upon + Mr. O'Brien for what you are not; that is, the son of an honest man. I + have no doubt, but many of your nearest relations died after having seen + their own funerals. Your mother, you runagate, wasn't your father's wife, + I'll be bail.” + </p> + <p> + The spirit of the boy could bear this no longer; his eyes flashed, and his + sinews stood out in the energy of deep indignation. + </p> + <p> + “It is false,” he exclaimed; “it is as false as your own cruel and + cowardly heart, you wicked and unprincipled tyrant! In everything you have + said of my father, mother, and friends, and of myself, too, you are' a + liar, from the hat on your head to the dirt undher your feet—a liar, + a coward, and a villain!” + </p> + <p> + The fury of the miscreant was ungovernable:—he ran at the still + feeble lad, and, by a stroke of his fist, dashed him senseless to the + earth. There were now no large boys in the school to curb his resentment, + he therefore kicked him in the back when he fell. Many voices exclaimed in + alarm—“Oh, masther! sir; don't kill him! Oh, sir! dear, don't kill + him! Don't kill poor Jemmy, sir, an' him still sick!” + </p> + <p> + “Kill him!” replied the master; “kill him, indeed! Faith, he'd be no + common man who could kill him; he has as many lives in him as a cat! Sure, + he can live behind a ditch, wid the faver on his back, wid-out dying; and + he would live if he was stuck on the spire of a steeple.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the boy gave no symptoms of returning life, and the + master, after desiring a few of the scholars to bring him oat to the air, + became pale as death with apprehension. He immediately withdrew to his + private apartment, which joined the schoolroom, and sent out his wife to + assist in restoring him to animation. With some difficulty this was + accomplished. The unhappy boy at once remembered what had just occurred; + and the bitter tears gushed from his eyes, as he knelt down, and exclaimed + “Merciful Father of heaven and earth, have pity on me! You see my heart, + great God! and that what I did, I did for the best!” + </p> + <p> + “Avourneen,” said the woman, “he's passionate, an' never mind him. Come in + an' beg his pardon for callin' him a liar, an' I'll become spokesman for + you myself. Come, acushla, an' I'll get lave for you to stay in the school + still.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm hurted!” said the poor youth: “I'm hurted inwardly—somewhere + about the back, and about my ribs!” The pain he felt brought the tears + down his pale cheeks. “I wish I was at home!” said he. “I'll give up all + and go home!” The lonely boy then laid his head upon his hands, as he sat + on the ground, and indulged in a long burst of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said a manly-looking little fellow, whilst the tears stood in his + eyes, “I'll tell my father this, anyhow. I know he won't let me come to + this school any more. Here, Jemmy, is a piece of my bread, maybe it will + do you good.” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't taste it, Frank dear,” said Jemmy; “God bless you; but I + couldn't taste it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” said Frank; “maybe it will bate back the pain.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me, Frank dear,” said Jemmy; “I couldn't ate it: I'm hurted + inwardly.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck to me!” exclaimed the indignant boy, “if ever my ten toes will + darken this school door agin. By the livin' farmer, if they ax me at home + to do it, I'll run away to my uncle's, so I will. Wait, Jemmy, I'll be big + yit; an', be the blessed Gospel that's about my neck, I'll give the same + masther a shirtful of sore bones, the holy an' blessed minute I'm able to + do it.” + </p> + <p> + Many of the other boys declared that they would acquaint their friends + with the master's cruelty to the poor scholar; but Jemmy requested them + not to do so, and said that he was determined to return home the moment he + should be able to travel. + </p> + <p> + The affrighted woman could not prevail upon him to seek a reconciliation + with her husband, although the expressions of the other scholars induced + her to press him to it, even to entreaty. Jemmy arose, and with + considerable difficulty reached the Curate's house, found him at home, + and, with tears in his eyes, related to him the atrocious conduct of the + master. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said this excellent man, “I am glad that I can venture to + ride as far as Colonel B———'s to-morrow. You must + accompany me; for decidedly such brutality cannot be permitted to go + unpunished.” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy knew that the curate was his friend; and although he would not + himself have thought of summoning the master to answer for his barbarity, + yet he acquiesced in the curate's opinion. He stopped that night in the + house of the worthy man to whom Mr. O'Brien had recommended him on his + first entering the town. It appeared in the morning, however, that he was + unable to walk; the blows which he had received were then felt by him to + be more dangerous than had been supposed. Mr. O'Brien, on being informed + of this, procured a jaunting-car, on which they both sat, and at an easy + pace reached the Colonel's residence. + </p> + <p> + The curate was shown into an ante-room, and Jemmy sat in the hall: the + Colonel joined the former in a few minutes. He had been in England and on + the continent, accompanied by his family, for nearly the last three years, + but had just returned, in order to take possession of a large property in + land and money, to which he succeeded at a very critical moment, for his + own estates were heavily encumbered. He was now proprietor of an + additional estate, the rent-roll of which was six thousand per annum, and + also master of eighty-five thousand pounds in the funds. Mr. O'Brien, + after congratulating him upon his good fortune, introduced the case of our + hero as one which, in his opinion, called for the Colonel's interposition + as a magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “I have applied to you, sir,” he proceeded, “rather than to any other of + the neighboring gentlemen, because I think this friendless lad has a + peculiar claim upon any good offices you could render him.” + </p> + <p> + “A claim upon me! How is that, Mr. O'Brien?” + </p> + <p> + “The boy, sir, is not a native of this province. His father was formerly a + tenant of yours, a man, as I have reason to believe, remarkable for good + conduct and industry. It appears that his circumstances, so long as he was + your tenant, were those of a comfortable independent farmer. If the story + which his son relates be true—and I, for one, believe it—his + family have been dealt with in a manner unusually cruel and iniquitous. + Your present agent, Colonel, who is known in his own neighborhood by the + nickname of Yellow Sam, thrust him out of hia farm, when his wife was + sick, for the purpose of putting into it a man who had married his + illegitimate daughter. If this be found a correct account of the + transaction, I have no hesitation in saying, that you, Colonel B———, + as a gentleman of honor and humanity, will investigate the conduct of your + agent, and see justice done to an honest man, who must have been oppressed + in your name, and under color of your authority.” + </p> + <p> + “If my agent has dared to be unjust to a worthy tenant,” said the Colonel, + “in order to provide for his bastard, by my sacred honor, he shall cease + to be an agent of mine! I admit, certainly, that from some circumstances + which transpired a few years ago, I have reason to suspect his integrity. + That, to be sure, was only so far as he and I were concerned; but, on the + other hand, during one or two visits I made to the estate which he + manages, I heard the tenants thank and praise him with much gratitude, and + all that sort of thing. There was 'Thank your honor!'—'Long may you + reign over us, sir!'—and, 'Oh, Colonel, you've a mighty good man to + your agent!' and so forth. I do not think, Mr. O'Brien, that he has acted + so harshly, or that he would dare to do it. Upon my honor, I heard those + warm expressions of gratitude from the lips of the tenants themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “If you knew the people in general, Colonel, as well as I do,” replied the + curate, “you would admit, that such expressions are often either cuttingly + ironical, or the result of fear. You will always find, sir, that the + independent portion of the people have least of this forced dissimulation + among them. A dishonest and inhuman agent has in his own hands the + irresponsible power of harassing and oppressing the tenantry under him. + The class most hateful to the people are those low wretches who spring up + from nothing into wealth, accumulated by dishonesty and rapacity. They are + proud, overbearing, and jealous, even to vindictiveness, of the least want + of respect. It is to such upstarts that the poorer classes are externally + most civil; but it is also such persons whom they most hate and abhor. + They flatter them to their faces, 'tis true even to nausea; but they + seldom spare them in their absence. Of this very class, I believe, is your + agent, Yellow Sam; so that any favorable expressions you may have heard + from your tenantry towards him, were most probably the result of + dissimulation and fear. Besides, sir, here is a testimonial from M'Evoy's + parish priest, in which his father is spoken of as an honest, moral, and + industrious man.” + </p> + <p> + “If what you say, Mr. O'Brien, be correct,” observed the Colonel, “you + know the Irish peasantry much better than I do. Decidedly, I have always + thought them in conversation exceedingly candid and sincere. With respect + to testimonials from priests to landlords in behalf of their tenants, upon + my honor I am sick of them. I actually received, about four years ago, + such an excellent character of two tenants, as induced me to suppose them + worthy of encouragement. But what was the fact? Why, sir, they were two of + the greatest firebrands on my estate, and put both me and my agent to + great trouble and expense. No, sir, I wouldn't give a curse for a priest's + testimonial upon such an occasion. These fellows were subsequently + convicted of arson on the clearest evidence, and transported.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I grant that you may have been misled in that instance. + However, from what I've observed, the two great faults of Irish landlords + are these:—In the first place, they suffer themselves to remain + ignorant of their tenantry; so much so, indeed, that they frequently deny + them access and redress when the poor people are anxious to acquaint them + with their grievances; for it is usual with landlords to refer them to + those very agents against whose cruelty and rapacity they are appealing. + This is a <i>carte blanche</i> to the agent to trample upon them if he + pleases. In the next place, Irish landlords too frequently employ ignorant + and needy men to manage their estates; men who have no character, no + property, or standing in society, beyond the reputation of being keen + shrewd, and active. These persons, sir, make fortunes; and what means can + they have of accumulating wealth, except by cheating either the landlord + or his tenants, or both? A history of their conduct would be a black + catalogue of dishonesty, oppression, and treachery. Respectable men, + resident on or-near the estate, possessing both character and property, + should always be selected for this important trust. But, above all things, + the curse of a tenantry is a percentage agent. He racks, and drives, and + oppresses, without consideration either of market or produce, in order + that his receipts may be ample, and his own income large.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, O'Brien, you appear to be better acquainted with all this sort of + thing than I, who am a landed proprietor.” + </p> + <p> + “By the by, sir, without meaning you any disrespect, it is the landlords + of Ireland who know least about the great mass of its inhabitants; and I + might also add, about its history, its literature, the manners of the + people, their customs, and their prejudices. The peasantry know this, and + too often practise upon their ignorance. There is a landlord's <i>Vade + mecum</i> sadly wanted in Ireland, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! very good, O'Brien, very good! Well, I shall certainly inquire into + this case, and if I find that Yellow Ham has been playing the oppressor, + out he goes. I am now able to manage him, which I could not readily do + before, for, by the by, he had mortgages on my property.” + </p> + <p> + “I would take it, Colonel, as a personal favor, if you would investigate + the transaction I have mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly I shall, and that very soon. But about this outrage committed + against the boy himself? We had better take his informations, and punish + the follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; I think that is the best way. His conduct to the poor youth + has been merciless and detestable. We must put him out of this part of the + country.” + </p> + <p> + “Call the lad in. In this case I shall draw up the informations myself, + although Gregg usually does that.” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy, assisted by the curate, entered the room, and the humane Colonel + desired him, as he appeared ill, to sit down. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “James M'Evoy,” he replied. “I'm the son, sir, of a man who was once a + tenant of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! and pray how did he cease to be a tenant of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, your agent, Yallow Sam, put him out of our farm, when my poor + mother was on her sick-bed. He chated my father, sir, out of some money—part + of our rent it was, that he didn't give him a receipt for. When my father + went to him afterwards for the receipt, Yallow Sam abused him, and called + him a rogue, and that, sir, was what no man ever called my father either + before or since. My father, sir, threatened to tell you about it, and you + came to the country soon after; but Yallow Sam got very great wid my + father at that time, and sent him to sell bullocks for him about fifty + miles off, but when he come back again, you had left the country. Thin, + sir, Yallow Sam said nothing till the next half-year's rent became due, + whin he came down on my father for all—that is, what he hadn't got + the receipt for, and the other gale—and, without any warning in the + world, put him out. My father offered to pay all; but he said he was a + rogue, and that you had ordered him off the estate. In less than a week + after this he put a man that married a bastard daughter of his own into + our house and place. That's God's truth, sir; and you'll find it so, if + you inquire into it. It's a common trick of his to keep back receipts, and + make the tenants pay double.” * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This is the fact. The individual here alluded to, + frequently kept back receipts when receiving rents, + under pretence of hurry, and afterwards compelled the + tenants to pay the same gale twice! +</pre> + <p> + “Sacred Heaven, O'Brien! can this be possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Your best way, Colonel, is to inquire into it.” + </p> + <p> + “Was not your father able to educate you at home, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. We soon got into poverty after we left your farm; and another + thing, sir, there was no Latin school in our neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “For what purpose did you become a poor scholar?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, I hoped one day or other to be able to raise my father and + mother out of the distress that Yallow Sam brought on us.” + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven! a noble aim, and a noble sentiment. And what has this d—d + fellow of a schoolmaster done to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, yesterday, when I went back to the school, he abused me, and + said that he supposed that most of my relations were hanged; spoke ill of + my father; and said that my mother”—Here the tears started to his + eyes—he sobbed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, and be cool,” said the Colonel. “What did he say of your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “He said, sir, that she was never married to my father. I know I was + wrong, sir; but if it was the king on his throne that said it of my + mother, I'd call him a liar. I called him a liar, and a coward, and a + villain: ay, sir, and if I had been able, I would have tramped him under + my feet.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel looked steadily at him, but the open clear eye which the boy + turned upon him was full of truth and independence. “And you will find,” + said the soldier, “that this spirited defence of your mother will be the + most fortunate action of your life. Well; he struck you then, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “He knocked me down, sir, with his fist—then kicked me in the back + and sides. I think some of my ribs are broke.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay!—no doubt, no doubt,” said the Colonel. “And you were only after + recovering from this fever which is so prevalent?” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't a week out of it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my boy, we shall punish him for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, would you hear me for a word or two, if it would be pleasing to + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Speak on,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I would rather change his punishment to—I would—that is—if + it would be agreeable to you—It's this, sir—I wouldn't + throuble you now against the master, if you'd be pleased to rightify my + father, and punish Yallow Sam. Oh, sir, for God's sake, put my + heart-broken father into his farm again! If you would, sir, I could shed + my blood, or lay down my life for you, or for any belonging to you. I'm + but a poor boy, sir, low and humble; but they say there's a greater Being + than the greatest in this world, that listens to the just prayers of the + poor and friendless. I was never happy, sir, since we left it—neither + was any of us; and when we'd sit cowld and hungry, about our hearth, We + used to be talking of the pleasant days we spent in it, till the tears + would be smothered in curses against him that put us out of it. Oh, sir, + if you could know all that a poor and honest family suffers, when they are + thrown into distress by want of feeling in their landlords, or by the + dishonesty of agents, you would consider my father's case. I'm his + favorite son, sir, and good right have I to speak for him. If you could + know the sorrow, the misery, the drooping down of the spirits, that lies + upon the countenances and the hearts of such people, you wouldn't, as a + man and a Christian, think it below you to spread happiness and + contentment among them again. In the morning they rise to a day of + hardship, no matter how bright and cheerful it may be to others—nor + is there any hope of a brighter day for them: and at night they go to + their hard beds to strive to sleep away their hunger in spite of cowld and + want. If you could see how the father of a family, after striving to bear + up, sinks down at last; if you could see the look he gives at the childhre + that he would lay down his heart's blood for, when they sit naked and + hungry about him; and the mother, too, wid her kind word and sorrowful + smile, proud of them in all their destitution, but her heart breaking + silent! All the time, her face wasting away. Her eye dim, and her strength + gone—Sir, make one such family happy—for all this has been in + my father's house! Give us back our light spirits, our pleasant days, and + our cheerful hearts again! We lost them through the villainy of your + agent. Give them back to us, for you can do it; but you can never pay us + for what we suffered. Give us, sir, our farm, our green fields, our house, + and every spot and nook that we had before. We love the place, sir, for + its own sake;—it is the place of our fathers, and our hearts are in + it. I often think I see the smooth river that runs through it, and the + meadows that I played in when I was a child;—the glen behind our + house, the mountains that rose before us when we left the door, the + thorn-bush at the garden, the hazels in the glen, the little beach-green + beside the river—Oh, sir, don't blame me for crying, for they are + all before my eyes, in my ears, and in my heart! Many a summer evening + have I gone to the march-ditch of the farm that my father's now in, and + looked at the place I loved, till the tears blinded me, and I asked it as + a favor of God to restore us to it! Sir, we are in great poverty at home; + before God we are; and my father's heart is breaking.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel drew his breath deeply, rubbed his hands, and as he looked at + the fine countenance of the boy—expressing, as it did, enthusiasm + and sorrow—his eye lightened with a gleam of indignation. It could + not be against the poor scholar; no, gentle reader, but against his own + agent. + </p> + <p> + “O'Brien,” said he, “what do you think, and this noble boy is the son of a + man who belongs to a class of which I am ignorant! By Heaven, we landlords + are, I fear, a guilty race.” + </p> + <p> + “Not all, sir,” replied the Curate. “There are noble exceptions among + them; their faults are more the faults of omission than commission.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, no matter. Come, I will draw up the informations against this + man; afterwards I have something to say to you, my boy,” he added, + addressing Jemmy, “that will not, I trust, be unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + He then drew up the informations as strongly as he could word them, after + which Jemmy deposed to their truth and accuracy, and the Colonel, rubbing + his hands again, said— + </p> + <p> + “I will have the fellow secured. When you go into town, Mr. O'Brien, I'll + thank you to call on Meares, and hand him these. He will lodge the + miscreant in limbo this very night.” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy then thanked him, and was about to withdraw, when the Colonel + desired him to remain a little longer. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “your father has been treated inhumanly, I believe; but no + matter. That is not the question. Your sentiments, and conduct, and your + affection for your parents, are noble, my boy. At present, I say, the + question is not whether the history of your father's wrongs be true or + false; you, at least, believe it to be true. From this forward—but + by the by, I forgot; how could your becoming a poor scholar relieve your + parents?” + </p> + <p> + “I intended to become a priest, sir, and then to help them.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! so I thought; and, provided your father were restored to the farm, + would you be still disposed to become a priest?” + </p> + <p> + “I would, sir; next to helping my father, that is what I wish to be.” + </p> + <p> + “O'Brien, what would it cost to prepare him respectably for the + priesthood?—I mean to defray his expenses until he completes his + preparatory education, in the first place, and afterwards during his + residence in Maynooth?” + </p> + <p> + “I think two hundred pounds, sir, would do it easily and respectably.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think it would. However, do you send him—but first let me + ask what progress he has already made?” + </p> + <p> + “He has read—in fact he is nearly prepared to enter Maynooth. His + progress has been very rapid.” + </p> + <p> + “Put him to some respectable boarding-school for a year; then let him + enter Maynooth, and I will bear the expense. But remember I do not adopt + this course in consequence of his father's history. Not I, by Jupiter; I + do it on his own account. He is a noble boy, and full of fine qualities, + if they be not nipped by neglect and poverty. I loved my father myself, + and fought a duel on his account; and I honor the son who has spirit to + defend his absent parent.” + </p> + <p> + “This is a most surprising turn in the boy's fortunes, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “He deserves it. A soldier, Mr. O'Brien, is not without his enthusiasm, + nor can he help admiring it in others, when nobly and virtuously directed. + To see a boy in the midst of poverty, encountering the hardships and + difficulties of life, with the hope of raising up his parents from + distress to independence, has a touch of sublimity in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ireland, Colonel, abounds with instances of similar virtue, brought out, + probably, into fuller life and vigor by the sad changes and depressions + which are weighing down the people. In her glens, on her bleak mountain + sides, and in her remotest plains, such examples of pure affection, + uncommon energy, and humble heroism, are to be seen; but, unfortunately, + few persons of rank or observation mingle with the Irish people, and their + many admirable qualities pass away without being recorded in the + literature of their country. They are certainly a strange people, Colonel, + almost an anomaly in the history of the human race. They are the only + people who can rush out from the very virtues of private life to the + perpetration of crimes at which we shudder. There is, to be sure, an + outcry about their oppression; but that is wrong. Their indigence and + ignorance are rather the result of neglect;—of neglect, sir, from + the government of the country—from the earl to the squireen. They + have been taught little that is suitable to their stations and duties in + life, either as tenants who cultivate our lands, or as members of moral or + Christian society.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well: I believe what you say is too true. But touching the records + of virtue in human life, pray who would record it when nothing goes down + now-a-days but what is either monstrous or fashionable?” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, Colonel; yet in my humble opinion, a virtuous Irish peasant is + far from being so low a character as a profligate man of rank.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, well! Come, O'Brien, we will drop the subject. In the + meantime, touching this boy, as I said, he must be looked to, for he has + that in him which ought not to be neglected. We shall now see that this d—d + pedagogue be punished for his cruelty.” The worthy Colonel in a short time + dismissed poor Jemmy with an exulting heart; but not until he had placed a + sufficient sum in the Curate's hands for enabling him to make a + respectable appearance. Medical advice was also procured for him, by which + he sooner overcame the effects of his master's brutality. + </p> + <p> + On their way home Jemmy related to his friend the conversation which he + had had with his Bishop in the shed, and the kind interest which that + gentleman had taken in his situation and prospects. Mr. O'Brien told him + that the Bishop was an excellent man, possessing much discrimination and + benevolence; “and so,” said he, “is the Protestant clergyman who + accompanied him. They have both gone among the people during this heavy + visitation of disease and famine, administering advice and assistance; + restraining them from those excesses which they sometimes commit, when, + driven by hunger, they attack provision-carts, bakers' shops, or the + houses of farmers who are known to possess a stock of meal or potatoes. + God knows, it is an excusable kind of robbery; yet it is right to restrain + them.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a pleasant thing, sir, to see clergymen of every religion working + together to make the people happy.” + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly so,” replied the curate; “and I am bound to say, in + justice to the Protestant clergy, that there is no class of men in + Ireland, James, who do so much good without distinction of creed or party. + They are generally kind and charitable to the poor; so are their wives and + daughters. I have often known them to cheer the sick-bed—to assist + the widow and the orphan—to advise and admonish the profligate, and, + in some instances, even to reclaim them. But now about your own prospects; + I think you should go and see your family as soon as your health permits + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I would give my right hand,” replied Jemmy, “just to see them, if it was + only for five minutes: but I cannot go. I vowed that I would never enter + my native parish until I should become a Catholic clergyman. I vowed that, + sir, to God—and with his assistance I will keep my vow.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the curate, “you are right. And now lot me give you a little + advice. In the first place, learn to speak as correctly as you can; lay + aside the vulgarisms of conversation peculiar to the common people; and + speak precisely as you would write. By the by, you acquitted yourself to + admiration with the Colonel. A little stumbling there was in the + beginning; but you got over it. You see, James, the force of truth and + simplicity. I could scarcely restrain my tears while you spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had not been in earnest, sir, I could never have spoken as I did.” + </p> + <p> + “You never could. Truth, James, is the foundation of all eloquence; he who + knowingly speaks what is not true, may dazzle and perplex; but he will + never touch with that power and pathos which spring from truth. Fiction is + successful only by borrowing her habiliments. Now, James, for a little + more advice. Don't let the idea of having been a poor scholar deprive you + of self-respect; neither let your unexpected turn of fortune cause you to + forget what you have suffered. Hold a middle course; be firm and + independent; without servility on the one hand, or vanity on the other. + You have also too much good sense, and, I hope, too much religion, to + ascribe what this day has brought forth in your behalf, to any other cause + than God. It has pleased him to raise you from misery to ease and comfort; + to him, therefore, be it referred, and to him be your thanks and prayers + directed. You owe him much, for you now can perceive the value of what he + has done for you! May his name be blessed!” + </p> + <p> + Jemmy was deeply affected by the kindness of his friend, for such, in + friendship's truest sense, was he to him. He expressed, the obligations + which he owed him, and promised to follow the excellent advice he had just + received. + </p> + <p> + The schoolmaster's conduct to the poor scholar had, before the close of + the day on which it occurred, been known through the parish. Thady + O'Rorke, who had but just recovered from the epidemic, felt so bitterly + exasperated at the outrage, that he brought his father to the parish + priest, to whom he give a detailed account of all that our hero and the + poorer children of the school had suffered. In addition to this, he went + among the more substantial farmers of the neighborhood, whose cooperation + he succeeded in obtaining, for the laudable purpose of driving the tyrant + out of the parish. + </p> + <p> + Jemmy, who still lived at the “House of Entertainment,” on hearing what + they intended to do, begged Mr. O'Brien, to allow him, provided the master + should be removed from the school, to decline prosecuting him. “He has + been cruel to me, no doubt,” he added; “still I cannot forget that his + cruelty has been the means of changing my condition in life so much for + the better. If he is put out of the parish it will be punishment enough; + and, to say the truth, sir, I can now forgive everybody. Maybe, had I been + still neglected I might punish him; but, in the meantime, to show him and + the world that I didn't deserve his severity, I forgive him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. O'Brien was not disposed to check a sentiment that did the boy's heart + so much honor; he waited on the Colonel the next morning, acquainted him + with Jemmy's wishes, and the indictment was quashed immediately after the + schoolmaster's removal from his situation. + </p> + <p> + Our hero's personal appearance was by this time incredibly changed for the + better. His countenance, naturally expressive of feeling, firmness, and + intellect, now appeared to additional advantage; so did his whole person, + when dressed in a decent suit of black. No man acquainted with life can be + ignorant of the improvement which genteel apparel produce in the carriage, + tone of thought, and principles of an individual. It gives a man + confidence, self-respect, and a sense of equality with his companions; it + inspires him with energy, independence, delicacy of sentiment, courtesy of + manner, and elevation of language. The face becomes manly, bold, and free; + the brow open, and the eye clear; there is no slinking through narrow + lanes and back streets: but, on the contrary, the smoothly dressed man + steps out with a determination not to spare the earth, or to walk as if he + trod on eggs or razors. No; he brushes onward; is the first to accost his + friends; gives a careless bow to this, a bluff nod to that, and a + patronizing “how dy'e do” to a third, who is worse dressed than himself. + Trust me, kind reader, that good clothes are calculated to advance a man + in life nearly as well as good principles, especially in a world like + this, where external appearance is taken as the exponent of what is + beneath it. + </p> + <p> + Jemmy, by the advice of his friend, now waited upon the Bishop, who was + much surprised at the uncommon turn of fortune which had taken place in + his favor. He also expressed his willingness to help him forward, as far + as lay in his power, towards the attainment of his wishes. In order to + place the boy directly under suitable patronage, Mr. O'Brien suggested + that the choice of the school should be left to the Bishop. This, perhaps, + mattered him a little, for who is without his weaknesses? A school near + the metropolis was accordingly fixed upon, to which Jemmy, now furnished + with a handsome outfit, was accordingly sent. There we will leave him, + reading with eagerness and assiduity, whilst we return to look after + Colonel B. and his agent. + </p> + <p> + One morning after James's departure, the Colonel's servant waited upon Mr. + O'Brien with a note from his master, intimating a wish to see him. He lost + no time in waiting upon that gentleman, who was then preparing to visit + the estate which he had so long neglected. + </p> + <p> + “I am going,” said he, “to see how my agent, Yellow Sam, as they call him, + and my tenants agree. It is my determination, Mr. O'Brien, to investigate + the circumstances attending the removal of our protege's father. I shall, + moreover, look closely into the state and feelings of my tenants in + general. It is probable I shall visit many of them, and certain that I + will inquire into the character of this man.” + </p> + <p> + “It is better late than never, Colonel; but still, though I am a friend to + the people, yet I would recommend you to be guided by great caution, and + the evidence of respectable and disinterested men only. You must not + certainly entertain all the complaints you may hear, without clear proof, + for I regret to say, that too many of the idle and political portion of + the peasantry are apt to throw the blame of their own folly and ignorance—yes, + and of their crimes, also—upon those who in no way have occasioned + either their poverty or their wickedness. They are frequently apt to + consider themselves oppressed, if concessions are not made, to which they, + as idle and indolent men, who neglected their own business, have no fair + claim. Bear this in mind, Colonel—be cool, use discrimination, take + your proofs from others besides the parties concerned, or their friends, + and, depend upon it, you will arrive at the truth.”. + </p> + <p> + “O'Brien, you would make an excellent agent.” + </p> + <p> + “I have studied the people, sir, and know them. I have breathed the + atmosphere of their prejudices, habits, manners, customs, and + superstitions. I have felt them all myself, as they feel them; but I trust + I have got above their influence where it is evil, for there are many fine + touches of character among them, which I should not willingly part with. + No, sir, I should make a bad agent, having no capacity for transacting + business. I could direct and overlook, but nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I shall set out to-morrow; and in the meantime, permit me to + say that I am deeply sensible of your kindness in pointing out my duty as + an Irish landlord, conscious that I have too long neglected it.” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness, Colonel, is the way to the Irish heart. There is but one man in + Ireland who can make an Irishman ungrateful, and that is his priest. I + regret that in times of political excitement, and especially during + electioneering struggles, the interference of the clergy produces + disastrous effects upon the moral feelings of the people. When a tenant + meets the landlord whom he has deserted in the critical momont of the + contest the landlord to whom he has solemnly promised his support, and + who, perhaps, as a member of the legislature, has advocated his claims and + his rights, and who, probably, has been kind and indulgent to him—I + say, when he meets him afterwards, his shufflings, excuses, and evasions + are grievous. He is driven to falsehood and dissimulation in explaining + his conduct; he expresses his repentance, curses himself for his + ingratitude, promises well for the future, but seldom or never can be + prevailed upon to state candidly that he acted in obedience to the priest. + In some instances, however, he admits this, and inveighs bitterly against + his interference—but this is only whilst in the presence of his + landlord. I think, Colonel, that no clergyman, set apart as he is for the + concerns of a better world, should become a firebrand in the secular + pursuits and turmoils of this.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, Mr. O'Brien, that every clergyman of your church resembled you, + and acted up to your sentiments: our common country would be the better + for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I endeavor to act, sir, as a man who has purely spiritual duties to + perform. It is not for us to be agitated and inflamed by the political + passions and animosities of the world. Our lot is differently cast, and we + ought to abide by it. The priest and politician can no more agree than + good and evil. I speak with respect to all churches.” + </p> + <p> + “And so do I.” + </p> + <p> + “What stay do you intend to make, Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “I think about a month. I shall visit some of my old friends there, from + whom I expect a history of the state and feelings of the country.” + </p> + <p> + “You will hear both sides of the question before you act?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I have written to my agent to say that I shall look very + closely into my own affairs on this occasion. I thought it fair to give + him notice.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I wish you all success.” + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, Mr. O'Brien; I shall see you immediately after my return.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel performed his journey by slow stages, until he reached “the + hall of his fathers,”—for it was such, although he had not for years + resided in it. It presented the wreck of a fine old mansion, situated + within a crescent of stately beeches, whose moss-covered and ragged trunks + gave symptoms of decay and neglect. The lawn had been once beautiful, and + the demesne a noble one; but that which blights the industry of the tenant—the + curse of absenteeism—had also left the marks of ruin stamped upon + every object around him. The lawn was little better than a common; the + pond was thick with weeds and sluggish water-plants, that almost covered + its surface; and a light, elegant bridge, that spanned a river which ran + before the house, was also moss-grown and dilapidated. The hedges were + mixed up with briers, the gates broken, or altogether removed, the fields + were rank with the ruinous luxuriance of weeds, and the grass-grown + avenues spoke of solitude and desertion. The still appearance, too, of the + house itself, and the absence of smoke from its time-tinged chimneys—all + told a tale which constitutes one, perhaps the greatest, portion of + Ireland's misery! Even then he did not approach it with the intention of + residing there during his sojourn in the country. It was not habitable, + nor had it been so for years. The road by which he travelled lay near it, + and he could not pass without looking upon the place where a long line of + gallant ancestors had succeeded each other, lived their span, and + disappeared in their turn. + </p> + <p> + He contemplated it for some time in a kind of reverie. There, it stood, + sombre and silent;—its gray walls mouldering away—its windows + dark and broken;—like a man forsaken by the world, compelled to bear + the storms of life without the hand of a friend to support him, though age + and decay render him less capable of enduring them. For a momont fancy + repeopled it;—again the stir of life, pastime, mirth, and + hospitality echoed within its walls; the train of his long departed + relatives returned; the din of rude and boisterous enjoyment peculiar to + the times; the cheerful tumult of the hall at dinner; the family feuds and + festivities; the vanities and the passions of those who now slept in dust;—all—all + came before him once more, and played their part in the vision of the + moment! + </p> + <p> + As he walked on, the flitting wing of a bat struck him lightly in its + flight; he awoke from the remembrances which crowded on him, and, resuming + his journey, soon arrived at the inn of the nearest town, where he stopped + that night. The next morning he saw his agent for a short time, but + declined entering upon business. For a few days more he visited most of + the neighboring gentry, from whom he received sufficient information to + satisfy him that neither he himself nor his agent was popular among his + tenantry. Many flying reports of the agent's dishonesty and tyranny were + mentioned to him, and in every instance he took down the names of the + parties, in order to ascertain the truth. M'Evoy's case had occurred more + than ten years before, but he found that the remembrance of the poor man's + injury was strongly and bitterly retained in the recollections of the + people—a circumstance which extorted from the blunt, but somewhat + sentimental soldier, a just observation:—“I think,” said he, “that + there are no people in the world who remember either an injury or a + kindness so long as the Irish.” + </p> + <p> + When the tenants were apprised of his presence among them, they + experienced no particular feeling upon the subject. During all his former + visits to his estate, he appeared merely the creature and puppet of his + agent, who never acted the bully, nor tricked himself out in his brief + authority more imperiously than he did before him. The knowledge of this + damped them, and rendered any expectations of redress or justice from the + landlord a matter not to be thought of. + </p> + <p> + “If he wasn't so great a man,” they observed, “who thinks it below him to + speak to his tenants, or hear their complaints, there 'ud be some hope. + But that rip of hell, Yallow Sam, can wind him round his finger like a + thread, an' does, too. There's no use in thinkin' to petition him, or to + lodge a complaint against Stony Heart, for the first thing he'd do 'ud be + to put it into the yallow-boy's hands, an' thin, God be marciful to thim + that 'ud complain. No, no; the best way is to wait till Sam's <i>masther</i>* + takes him; an' who knows but that 'ud be sooner nor we think.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The devil;—a familiar name for him when mentioned in + connection with a villain. +</pre> + <p> + “They say,” another would reply, “that the Colonel is a good gintleman for + all that, an' that if he could once know the truth, he'd pitch the 'yallow + boy' to the 'ould boy.'” + </p> + <p> + No sooner was it known by his tenantry that the head landlord was disposed + to redress their grievances, and hear their complaints, than the smothered + attachment, which long neglect had nearly extinguished, now burst forth + with uncommon power. + </p> + <p> + “Augh! by this an' by that the throe blood's in him still. The rale + gintleman to dale wid, for ever! We knew he only wanted to come at the + thruth, an' thin he'd back us agin the villain that harrished us! To the + divil wid skamin' upstarts, that hasn't the ould blood 'in thim! What are + they but sconces an' chates, every one o' thim, barrin' an odd one, for a + wondher!” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel's estate now presented a scene of gladness and bustle. Every + person who felt in the slightest degree aggrieved, got his petition drawn + up; and, but that we fear our sketch is already too long, we could gratify + the reader's curiosity by submitting a few of them. It is sufficient to + say, that they came to him in every shape—in all the variety of + diction that the poor English language admits of—in the + schoolmaster's best copy-hand, and choicest sesquipedalianism of pedantry—in + the severer, but more Scriptural terms of the parish clerk—in the + engrossing hand and legal phrase of the attorney—in the military + form, evidently redolent of the shrewd old pensioner—and in the + classical style of the young priest:—for each and all of the + foregoing were enlisted in the cause of those who had petitions to send in + “to the Colonel himself, God bless him!” + </p> + <p> + Early in the morning of the day on which the Colonel had resolved to + compare the complaints of his tenantry with the character which his agent + gave him of the complainants, he sent for the former, and the following + dialogue took place between them. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Mr. Carson! Excuse me for requesting your presence to-day + earlier than usual. I have taken it into my head to know something of my + own tenantry, and as they have pestered me with petitions, and letters, + and complaints, I am anxious to have your opinion, as you know them better + than I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Before we enter on business, Colonel, allow me to inquire if you feel + relieved of that bilious attack you complained of the day before + yesterday? I'm of a bilious habit myself, and know something about the + management of digestion!” + </p> + <p> + “A good digestion is an excellent thing, Carson; as for me, I drank too + much claret with my friend B——y; and there's the secret. I + don't like cold wines, they never agree with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I; they are not constitutional. Your father was celebrated for his + wines, Colonel: I remember an anecdote told me by Captain Ferguson—by + the by, do you know where Ferguson could be found, now, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I. What wines do you drink, Carson?” + </p> + <p> + “A couple of glasses of sherry, sir, at dinner; and about ten o'clock, a + glass of brandy and water.” + </p> + <p> + “Carson, you are sober and prudent. Well about these cursed petitions; you + must help me to dispose of them. Why, a man would think by the tenor of + them, that these tenants of mine are ground to dust by a tyrant.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Colonel, you know little about these fellows. They would make black + white. Go and take a ride, sir, return about four o'clock, and I will have + everything as it ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to heaven, Carson, I had your talents for business. Do you think + my tenants attached to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Attached! sir, they are ready to cut your throat or mine, on the first + convenient opportunity. You could not conceive their knavishness and + dishonesty, except you happened to be an agent for a few years. + </p> + <p> + “So I have been told, and I am resolved to remove every dishonest tenant + from my estate. Is there not a man, for instance, called Brady? He has + sent me a long-winded petition here. What do you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Show me the petition, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot lay my hand on it just now; but you shall see it. In the mean + time, what's your opinion of the fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Brady! Why, I know the man particularly well. He is one of my favorites. + What the deuce could the fellow petition about, though? I promised the + other day to renew his lease for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, if he be a favorite of yours, his petition may go to the devil, + I suppose? Is the man honest?” + </p> + <p> + “Remarkably so; and has paid his rents very punctually. He is one of our + safest tenants.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know a man called Cullen?” + </p> + <p> + “The most litigious scoundrel on the estate.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed? Oh, then, we must look into the merits of his petition, as he is + not honest. Had he been honest like Brady, Carson, I should have dismissed + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Cullen, sir, is a dangerous fellow. Do you know, that rascal has charged + me with keeping back his receipts, and with making I him pay double rent!—ha, + ha, ha! Upon my honor, its fact.” + </p> + <p> + “The scoundrel! We shall sift him to some purpose, however.” + </p> + <p> + “If you take my advice, sir, you will send him about his business; for if + it be once known that you listen to malicious petitions, my authority over + such villains as Cullen is lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I set him aside for the present. Here's a long list of others, all + of whom have been oppressed, forsooth. Is there a man called M'Evoy on my + estate?—Dominick M'Evoy, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “M'Evoy! Why that rascal, sir, has not been your tenant for ten years? His + petition, Colonel, is a key to the nature of their grievances in general.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, Carson—most implicitly do I believe that. Well, + about that rascal?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it is so long since, that upon my honor, I cannot exactly remember + the circumstances of his misconduct. He ran away.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is in his farm now, Carson?” + </p> + <p> + “A very decent man, sir. One Jackson, an exceedingly worthy, honest, + industrious fellow. I take some credit to myself for bringing Jackson on + your estate.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Jackson married? Has he a family?” + </p> + <p> + “Married! Let me see! Why—yes—I believe he is. Oh, by the by, + now I think of it, he is married, and to a very respectable woman, too. + Certainly, I remember—she usually accompanies him when he pays his + rents.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your system must be a good one, Carson; you weed out the idle and + profligate, to replace them by the honest and industrious.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely so, sir; that is my system.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet there are agents who invert your system in some cases; who drive out + the honest and industrious, and encourage the idle and profligate; who + connive at them, Carson, and fill the estates they manage with their own + dependents, or relatives, as the case may be. You have been alway's + opposed to this, and I'm glad to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “No man, Colonel B———, filling the situation which I + have the honor to hold under you, could study your interests with greater + zeal and assiduity. God knows, I have had so many quarrels, and feuds, and + wranglings, with these fellows, in order to squeeze money out of them to + meet your difficulties, that, upon my honor, I think if it required five + dozen oaths to hang me, they could be procured upon your estate. An agent, + Colonel, who is faithful to the landlord, is seldom popular with the + tenants.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't exactly see that, Carson; and I have known an unpopular landlord + rendered highly popular by the judicious management of an enlightened and + honest agent, who took no bribes, Carson, and who neither extorted from + nor ground the tenantry under him—something like a counterpart of + yourself. But you may be right in general.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything particular, Colonel, in which I can assist you now?” + </p> + <p> + “Not now. I was anxious to hear the character of those fellows from you + who know them. Come down about eleven or twelve o'clock; these petitioners + will be assembled, and you may be able to assist me.” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel, remember I forewarn you, that you are plunging into a mesh of + difficulties, which you will never be able to disentangle. Leave the + fellows to me, sir; I know how to deal with them. Besides, upon my honor, + you are not equal to it, in point of health. You look ill. Pray allow me + to take home their papers, and I shall have all clear and satisfactory + before two o'clock. They know my method, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “They do, Carson, they do; but I am anxious they should also know mine. + Besides, it will amuse me, for I want excitement. Good day, for the + present; you will be down about twelve, or one at the furthest.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir. Good morning, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + The agent was too shrewd a man not to perceive that there were touches of + cutting irony in some of the Colonel's expressiqns, which he did not like. + There was a dryness, too, in the tone of his voice and words, blended with + a copiousness of good humor, which, taken altogether, caused him to feel + uncomfortable. He could have wished the Colonel at the devil: yet had the + said Colonel never been more familiar in his life, nor, with one or two + exceptions, readier to agree with almost every observation made to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” thought he, “he may act as he pleases; I have feathered my nest, + at all events, and disregard him.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel B——-, in fact, ascertained with extreme regret, that + something was necessary to be done, to secure the good-will of his + tenants; that the conduct of his agent had been marked by rapacity and + bribery almost incredible. He had exacted from the tenantry in general the + performance of duty-labor to such an extent, that his immense agricultural + farms were managed with little expense to himself. If a poor man's corn + were drop ripe, or his hay in a precarious state, or his turf undrawn, he + must suffer his oats, hay, and turf, to be lost, in order to secure the + crops of the agent. If he had spirit to refuse, he must expect to become a + martyr to his resentment. In renewing leases his extortions were + exorbitant; ten, thirty, forty, and fifty guineas he claimed as a fee for + his favor, according to the ability of the party; yet this was quite + distinct from the renewal tine, and went into his own pocket. When such + “glove money” was not to be had, he would accept of a cow or horse, to + which he usually made a point to take a fancy; or he wanted to purchase a + firkin of butter at that particular time; and the poor people usually made + every sacrifice to avoid his vengeance. It is due to Colonel B——— + to say, that he acted in the investigation of his agent's conduct with the + strictest honor and impartiality. He scrutinized every statement + thoroughly, pleaded for him as temperately as he could; found, or + pretended to find, extenuating motives for his most indefensible + proceedings; but all would not do. The cases were so clear and evident + against him, even in the opinion of the neighboring gentry, who had been + for years looking upon the system of selfish misrule which he practised, + that at length the generous Colonel's blood boiled with indignation in his + veins at the contemplation of his villany. He accused himself bitterly for + neglecting his duties as a landlord, and felt both remorse and shame for + having wasted his time, health, and money, in the fashionable dissipation + of London and Paris; whilst a cunning, unprincipled upstart played the + vampire with his tenants, and turned his estate into a scene of oppression + and poverty. Nor was this all; he had been endeavoring to bring the + property more and more into his own clutches, a point which he would + ultimately have gained, had not the Colonel's late succession to so large + a fortune enabled him to meet his claims. + </p> + <p> + At one o'clock the tenants were all assembled about the inn door, where + the Colonel had resolved to hold his little court. The agent himself soon + arrived, as did several other gentlemen, the Colonel's friends, who knew + the people and could speak to their character. + </p> + <p> + The first man called was Dominick M'Evoy. No sooner was his name uttered, + than a mild, poor-looking man, rather advanced in years, came forward. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Colonel,” said Carson, “here is some mistake; this man + is not one of your tenants. You may remember I told you so this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember it,” replied the Colonel; “this is 'the rascal' you spoke of—is + he not? M'Evoy,” the Colonel proceeded, “you will reply to my questions + with strict truth. You will state nothing but what has occurred between + you and my agent; you must not even turn a circumstance in your own favor, + nor against Mr. Carson, by either adding to, or taking away from it, more + or less than the truth. I say this to you, and to all present; for, upon + my honor, I shall dismiss the first case in which I discover a falsehood.” + </p> + <p> + “Wid the help o' the Almighty, sir, I'll state nothing but the bare + thruth.” + </p> + <p> + “How long are you off my estate?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten years, your honor, or a little more.” + </p> + <p> + “How came you to run away out of your farm?” + </p> + <p> + “Run away, your honor! Grod he knows, I didn't run away, sir. The whole + counthry knows that.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ran away! Mr. Carson, here, stated to me this morning, that you ran + away. He is a gentleman of integrity, and would not state a falsehood.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Colonel, not positively. I told you I did not exactly + remember the circumstances; I said I thought so; but I may be wrong, for, + indeed, my memory of facts is not good. M'Evoy, however, is a very honest + man, and I have no doubt will state everything as it happened, fairly and + without malice.” + </p> + <p> + “An honest 'rascal,' I suppose you mean, Mr. Carson,” said the Colonel, + bitterly. “Proceed, M'Evoy.” + </p> + <p> + M'Evoy stated the circumstances precisely as the reader is already + acquainted with them, after which the Colonel turned round to his agent + and inquired what he had to say in reply. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot expect, Colonel B———,” he replied, “that + with such a multiplicity of business on my hands, I could remember, after + a lapse of ten years, the precise state of this particular case. Perhaps I + may have some papers, a memorandum or so, at home, that may throw light + upon it. At present I can only say, that the man failed in his rents, I + ejected him, and put a better tenant in his place. I cannot see a crime in + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Plase your honor,” replied M'Evoy, “I can prove by them that's standin' + to the fore this minute, as well as by this written affidavit, sir, that I + offered him the full rint, havin', at the same time, as God is my judge, + ped part of it afore.” + </p> + <p> + “That is certainly false—an untrue and malicious statement,” said + Carson. “I now remember that the cause of my resentment—yes, of my + just resentment against you, was your reporting that I received your rent + and withheld your receipt.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” observed the Colonel, “There has been more than one charge of that + nature brought against you? You mentioned another to me this morning if I + mistake not.” + </p> + <p> + “I have made my oath, your honor, of the thruth of it; an' here is a + dacent man, sir, a Protestant, that lent me the money, an' was present + when I offered it to him. Mr. Smith, come forrid, sir, an' spake up for + the poor man, as you're always willin' to do.” + </p> + <p> + “I object to his evidence,” said Carson: “he is my open enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “I am your enemy, Mr. Carson, or rather the enemy of your corruption and + want of honesty,” said Smith: “but, as you say, an open one. I scorn to + say behind your back what I wouldn't say to your face. Right well you know + I was present when he tendered you his rent. I lent him part of it. But + why did you and your bailiffs turn him out, when his wife was on her sick + bed? Allowing that he could not pay his rent, was that any reason you + should do so barbarous an act as to drag a woman from her sick bed, and + she at the point of death? But we know your reasons for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the Colonel, “pray what character do M'Evoy and Smith + here bear in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “We have known them both for years to be honest, conscientious men,” said + those whom he addressed: “such is their character, and in our opinion they + well deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, gintlemen!” said M'Evoy—“God bless your honors, for + your kind Words! I'm sure for my own part, I hope though but a poor man + now, God help me!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, who occupies the farm at present, Mr. Carson?” + </p> + <p> + “The man I mentioned to you this morning, sir. His name is Jackson.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, Mr. Carson, who is his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by the by, Colonel, that's a little too close! I see the gentlemen + smile; but they know I must beg to decline answering that question—-not + that it matters much. We have all sown our wild oats in our time—myself + as well as another—ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “The fact, under other circumstances,” observed the Colonel, “could never + draw an inquiry from me; but as it is connected with, or probably has + occasioned, a gross, unfeeling, and an unjust act of oppression towards an + honest man, I therefore alluded to it, as exhibiting the motives from + which you acted. She is your illegitimate daughter, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “She's one o' the baker's dozen o' them, plase your honor,” observed a + humorous little Presbyterian, with a sarcastic face, and sharp northern + accent—“for feth, sir, for my part, A thenk he lies one on every + hill head. All count, your honor, on my fingers a roun' half-dozen, all on + your estate, sir, featherin' their nests as fast as they can.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this Jackson a good tenant, Mr. Carson?” + </p> + <p> + “I gave you his character this morning, Colonel B.” + </p> + <p> + “Hout, Colonel!” said the Presbyterian, “deil a penny rent the man pays, + at all, at all. A'll swear a hev it from Jackson's own lips. He made him a + Bailey, sir; he suts rent free. Ask the man, sir, for his receipts, an' + a'll warrant the truth will come out.” + </p> + <p> + “I have secured Jackson's attendance,” said the Colonel; “let him be + called in.” + </p> + <p> + The man in a few minutes entered. + </p> + <p> + “Jackson,” said the Colonel, “how long is it since you paid Mr. Carson + here any rent?” + </p> + <p> + Jackson looked at Carson for his cue; but the Colonel rose up indignantly: + “Fellow!” he proceeded, “if you tamper with me a single moment, you shall + find Mr. Carson badly able to protect you. If you speak falsehood, be it + at your peril.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jing, sir,” said Jackson, “All say nothin' aginst my father-in-laa, + an' A don't care who teks it well or ull. A was just tekin' a <i>gun</i> + (* a half-tumbler of punch) with a fren' or two—an d—-me, A + say, A'll stick to my father-m-laa, for he hes stuck to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You appear to be a hardened, drunken wretch,” observed the Colonel. “Will + you be civil enough to show your last receipt for rent?” + </p> + <p> + “Wull A show it? A dono whether A wull or not, nor A dono whether A hey it + or not; but ef aall the receipts in Europe wur burnt, d—— my + blood, but A'll stick to my father-in-laa.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father-in-law may be proud of you,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “By h——, A'll back you en that,” said the fellow nodding his + head, and looking round him confidently. “By h——-, A say that, + too!” + </p> + <p> + “And I am sorry to be compelled to add,” continued the Colonel, “that you + may be equally proud of your father-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “A say, right agane! D—— me, bit A'll back that too!”and he + nodded confidently, and looked around the room once more. “A wull, d—— + my blood, bit no man can say agane it. A'm married to his daughter; an', + by the sun that shines A'll still stan' up for my father-in-laa.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Carson,” said the Colonel, “can you disprove these facts? Can you + show that you did not expel M'Evoy from his farm, and put the husband of + your illegitimate daughter into it? That you did not receive his rent, + decline giving him a receipt, and afterwards compel him to pay twice, + because he could not produce the receipt which you withheld?” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said Carson, not directly replying to the Colonel, “there is + a base conspiracy got up against me; and I can perceive, moreover, that + there is evidently some unaccountable intention on the part of Colonel B. + to insult my feelings and injure my character. When paltry circumstances + that have occurred above ten years ago, are raked up in my teeth, I have + little to say, but that it proves how very badly off the Colonel must have + been for an imputation against my conduct and discretion as his agent, + since he finds himself compelled to hunt so far back for a charge.” + </p> + <p> + “That is by no means the heaviest charge I have to bring against you,” + replied the Colonel. “There is no lack of them; nor shall you be able to + complain that they are not recent, as well as of longer standing. Your + conduct in the case of poor honest M'Evoy here is black and iniquitous. He + must be restored to his farm, but by other hands than yours, and that + ruffian instantly expelled from it. From this moment, sir, you cease to be + my agent. You have betrayed the confidence I reposed in you; you have + misled me as to the character of my tenants; you have been a deceitful, + cunning, cringing, selfish and rapacious tyrant. My people you have ground + to dust; my property you have lessened in value nearly one-half, and for + your motives in doing this, I refer you to certain transactions and legal + documents which passed between us. There is nothing cruel or mercenary + which you did not practice, in order to enrich yourself. The whole tenor + of your conduct is before me. Your profligacy is not only discovered, but + already proved; and you played those villainous pranks, I suppose, because + I have been mostly an absentee. Do not think, however, that you shall + enjoy the fruits of your extortion? I will place the circumstances, and + the proofs of the respective charges against you, in the hands of my + solicitor, and, by the sacred heaven above me! you shall disgorge the + fruits of your rapacity. My good people, I shall remain among you for + another fortnight, during which time I intend to go through my estate, and + set everything to rights as well as I can, until I may appoint a humane + and feeling gentleman as my agent—such a one as will have, at least, + a character to lose. I also take this opportunity of informing you, that + in future I shall visit you often, will redress your grievances, should + you have any to complain of, and will give such assistance to the honest + and industrious among you—but to them only—as I trust may make + us better pleased with each other than we have been.—Do not you go, + M'Evoy, until I speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + During these observations Carson sat with a smile, or rather a sneer upon + his lips. It was the sneer of a purse-proud villain confident that his + wealth, no matter how ill-gotten, was still wealth, and worth its value. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” said he, “I have heard all you said, but you see me 'so strong + in honesty,' that I am not moved. In the course of a few weeks I shall + have purchased an estate of my own, which I shall manage differently, for + my fortune is made, sir. I intend also to give up my other agencies: I am + rather old and must retire to enjoy a little of the <i>otium cum dignitate</i>. + I wish you all goo'd-morning!” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel turned away in abhorrence, but disdained any reply. + </p> + <p> + “A say, Sam,” said the Presbyterian, “bring your son-in-laa wuth you.” + </p> + <p> + “An' I say that, too,” exclaimed the drunken ruffian—“A say that; A + do. A'm married to his daughter; an' A say stull, that d———my + blood, bit A'll stick to my father-in-laa! That's the point!”—and + again he nodded his head, and looked round him with a drunken swagger:—“A'll + stick to my father-in-laa! A'll do that; feth, A wull!”* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This dialect is local. +</pre> + <p> + It is scarcely necessary to inform the reader, that the Colonel's address + to Carson soon got among the assembled tenantry, and a vehement volley of + groans and hisses followed the discarded agent up the street. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! bad luck to you for an ould villain. You were made to hear on the + deaf side o' your head at last! You may take the black wool out o' your + ears now, you rip! The cries an' curses o' the widows an' orphans that you + made and oppressed, has ris up agin you at the long run! Ha! you beggarly + nager! maybe you'll make us neglect our own work to do yours agin! Go an' + gather the dhry cow-cakes, you misert, an' bring them home in your pocket, + to throw on the dunghill!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remimber the day,” said others, “you met Mr. M., an' you goin' up + the street wid a cake of it in your fists, undher your shabby skirts; an' + whin the gintlemen wint to shake hands wid you, how he discovered your + maneness? Three groans for Yallow Sam, the extortioner! a short coorse to + him! Your corner's warm for you, you villain!” + </p> + <p> + “But now, boys, for the Colonel!” they exclaimed.—“Huzza for noble + Colonel B——— the rale Irish gintlemen, that wouldn't see + his tenants put upon by a villain!—Huzza! Hell resave yees, shout! + Huzza! Huzza! Huzza! Huz—tundher-an'-ounze, my voice is cracked! + Where's his coach?—where's his honor's coach? Come, boys, out wid + it,—out wid it! Tattheration to yees, come! We'll dhraw it to the + divil, to hell an' back agin, if it plases him! Success to Colonel B———! + Blood-an-turf! what'll we do for a fight? Long life to noble Colonel B———, + the poor man's friend!—long life to him for ever an' a day longer! + Whoo! my darlins! Huzza!” etc. + </p> + <p> + The warm interest which the Colonel took in M'Evoy's behalf, was looked + upon by the other tenants as a guarantee of his sincerity in all he + promised. Their enthusiasm knew no bounds. They got out his carriage from + the Inn-Yard, and drew it through the town, though the Colonel himself, + beyond the fact of their shouting, remained quite ignorant of what was + going forward. + </p> + <p> + After Carson's departure, the Colonel's friends, having been first asked + to dine with him at the inn, also took their leave, and none remained but + M'Evoy, who waited with pleasing anxiety to hear what the Colonel proposed + to say—for he felt certain that it would be agreeable. + </p> + <p> + “M'Evoy,” said the Colonel, “I am truly sorry for what you have suffered + through the villany of my agent; but I will give you redress, and allow + you for what you have lost by the transaction. It is true, as I have been + lately told by a person who pleaded your cause nobly and eloquently, that + I can never repay you for what you have suffered. However, what we can, we + will do. You are poor, I understand?” + </p> + <p> + “God he sees that, sir; and afflicted, too, plase your honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Afflicted? How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “I had a son, sir—a blessed boy! a darlin' boy!—once our + comfort, an' once we thought he'd be our pride an' our staff, but”— + </p> + <p> + The poor man's tears here flowed fast; he took up the skirt of his “Cotha + More,” or great-coat, and, after wiping his eyes, and clearing his voice, + proceeded:— + </p> + <p> + “He was always, as I said, a blessed boy, and we looked up to him alwayrs, + sir. He saw our poverty, your honor, an' he felt it, sir, keen enough, + indeed, God help him! How an'-iver, he took it on him to go up to Munster, + sir, undher hopes of risin' us—undher the hopes, poor child—an' + God knows, sir,—if—oh, Jemmy avourneen ma-chree!—doubt—I + doubt you sunk undher what proved too many for you!—I doubt my + child's dead, sir—him that all our hearts wor fixed upon; and if + that 'ud happen to be the case, nothin'—not even your kindness in + doin' us justice, could make us happy. We would rather beg wid him, sir, + nor have the best in the world widout him. His poor young heart, sir, was + fixed upon the place your honor is restorin' us to; an I'm afeard his + mother, sir, would break her heart if she thought he couldn't share our + good fortune! And we don't know whether he's livin' or dead! That, sir, is + what's afflictin' us. I had some notion of goin' to look for him; but he + tould us he would never write, or let us hear from him, till he'd be + either one thing or other.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you, for your satisfaction, that your son is well, M'Evoy. + Believe me, he is well—I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! Before God, does your honor spake truth? Well! Oh, sir, for His + sake that died for us, an' for the sake of his blessed mother, can you + tell me is my darlin' son alive?” + </p> + <p> + “He is living; is in excellent health; is as well dressed as I am; and has + friends as rich and as capable of assisting him as myself. But how is + this? What's the matter with you? You are pale! Good God! Here, waiter! + Waiter! Waiter, I say!” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel rang the bell violently, and two or three waiters entered at + the same moment. + </p> + <p> + “Bring a little wine and water, one of you, and let the other two remove + this man to the open window. Be quick. What do you stare at?” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the old man recovered, and untying the narrow coarse + cravat which he wore, wiped the perspiration off his pale face. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, don't be too much affected,” said the Colonel. “Waiter, bring up + refreshment—bring wine—be quiet and calm—you are weak, + poor fellow—but we will strengthen you by-and-by.” + </p> + <p> + “I am wake, sir,” he replied; “for, God help us! this was a hard year upon + us; and we suffered what few could bear. But he's livin', Colonel. Our + darlin' is livin! Oh, Colonel, your kindness went to my heart this day + afore, but that was nothin'—he's livin' an' well! On my two knees, + before God, I thank you for them words! I thank you a thousand an' a + thousand times more for them words, nor for what your honor did about + Yallow Sam.” + </p> + <p> + “Get up,” said the Colonel—“get up. The proceedings of the day have + produced a revulsion of feeling which has rendered you incapable of + sustaining intelligence of your son. He is well, I assure you. Bring those + things to this table, waiter.” + </p> + <p> + “But can your honor tell me anything in particular about him, sir? What + he's doin'—or what he intends to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! he is at a respectable boarding-school.” + </p> + <p> + “Boordin'-school! But isn't boordin'-schools Protestants, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all; he is at a Catholic boarding-school, and reading hard to be a + priest, which, I hope, he will soon be. He has good friends, and you may + thank him for being restored to your farm.” + </p> + <p> + “Glory be to my Maker for that! Oh, sir, your tenants wor desaved in you! + They thought, sir, that you wor a hard-hearted gintleman, that didn't care + whether they lived or died.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel that I neglected them too long, M'Evoy. Now take some refreshment: + eat something, and afterwards drink a few glasses of wine. Your feelings + have been much excited, and you will be the better for it. Keep up your + spirits. I am going to ride, and must leave you: but if you call on me + to-morrow, at one o'clock, I shall have more good news for you. We must + stock your farm, and enable you to enter upon it creditably.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said M'Evoy, “you are a Protestant; but, as I hope to enther glory, + I an' my wife an' childhre will pray that your bed may be made in heaven, + this night; and that your honor may be led to see the truth an' the right + coorse.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel then left him; and the simple man, on looking at the cold + meat, bread, and wine before him, raised his hands and eyes towards + heaven, to thank God for his goodness, and to invoke a blessing upon his + noble and munificent benefactor. + </p> + <p> + But how shall we describe the feelings of his family, when, after + returning home, he related the occurrences of that day. The severe and + pressing exigencies under which they labored had prevented his sons from + attending the investigation that was to take place in town. Their + expectations, however, were raised, and they looked out with intense + anxiety for the return of their father. + </p> + <p> + At length he was seen coming slowly up the hill; the spades were thrown + aside, and the whole family assembled to hear “what was done.” + </p> + <p> + The father entered in silence, sat down, and after wiping his brow and + laying down his hat, placing his staff across it upon the floor, he drew + his breath deeply. + </p> + <p> + “Dominick,” said the wife, “what news? What was done?” + </p> + <p> + “Vara,” replied Dominick, “do you remimber the day—fair and handsome + you wor then—when I first kissed your lips, as my own darlin' wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, avourneen, Dominick, don't spake of them times. The happiness we had + then is long gone, acushla, in one sense.” + </p> + <p> + “It's before me like yestherday, Vara—the delight that went through + my heart, jist as clear as yestherday, or the blessed sun that's shinin' + through the broken windy on the floor there. I remimber, Vara, saying to + you that day—I don't know whether you remimber it or not—but I + remimber sayin' to you, that if I lived a thousand years, I could never + feel sich happiness as I did when I first pressed you to my heart as my + own wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but we want to hear what happened, Dominick, achora.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remimber the words, Vara?” + </p> + <p> + “Och! I do, avourneen. Didn't they go into my heart at the time, an' how + could I forget them? But I can't bear, somehow, to look back at what we + wor then, bekase I feel my heart brakin', acushla!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Vara, look at me. Amn't I a poor wasted crathur now, in + comparishment to what I was thin?” + </p> + <p> + “God he sees the change that's in you, darlin'! But sure 'twasn't your + fau't, or mine either, Dominick, avilish!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Vara, you see me now—I'm happpier—before God, I'm + happier—happier, a thousand degrees than I was thin! Come to my + arms, asthore machree—my heart s breakin'—but it's wid + happiness—don't be frightened—it's wid joy I'm sheddin' these + tears—it's wid happiness an' delight In' cryin'! Jemmy is livin', + an' well, childhre—he's livin' an' well, Vara—the star of our + hearts is livin', an' well, an' happy! Kneel down, childhre—kneel + down! Bend before the great God, an' thank him for his kindness to your + blessed brother—to our blessed son. Bless the Colonel, childhre; + bless him whin you're down, Protestant an' all, as he is. Oh, bless him as + if you prayed for myself, or for Jemmy, that's far away from us!” + </p> + <p> + He paused for a few minutes, bent his head upon his hands as he knelt in + supplication at the chair, then resumed his seat, as did the whole family, + deeply affected. + </p> + <p> + “Now, childhre,” said he, “I'll tell yez all; but don't any of you be so + poor a crathur as I was to-day. Bear it mild an' asy, Vara, acushla, for I + know it will take a start out of you. Sure we're to go back to our own + ould farm! Ay, an' what'a more—oh, God of heaven, bless him!—what's + more, the Colonel is to stock it for us, an' to help us; an' what is more, + Yallow Sam is out! out!!” + </p> + <p> + “Out!” they exclaimed: “Jemmy well, an' Yallow Sam out! Oh, father, + surely”— + </p> + <p> + “Now behave, I say. Ay, and never to come in again! But who do you think + got him out?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?—why God he knows. Who could get him out?” + </p> + <p> + “Our son, Vara—our son, childhre: Jemmy got him out, an' got + ourselves back to our farm! I had it partly from the noble Colonel's own + lips, an' the remainder from Mr. Moutray, that I met on my way home. But + there's more to come:—sure Jemmy has friends aquil to the Colonel + himself: an' sure he's at a Catholic boordin'-school, among gintlemen's + childhre, an' in a short time he'll be a priest in full ordhers.” + </p> + <p> + We here draw a veil over the delight of the family. Questions upon + questions, replies upon replies, sifting and cross-examinations, followed + in rapid succession, until all was known that the worthy man had to + communicate. + </p> + <p> + Another simple scene followed, which, as an Irishman, I write with sorrow. + When the joy of the family had somewhat subsided, the father, putting his + hand in his coat-pocket, pulled out several large slices of mutton. + </p> + <p> + “Along wid all, childhre,” said he, “the Colonel ordhered me my dinner. I + ate plinty myself, an' slipped these slices in my pocket for you: but the + devil a one o' me knows what kind o' mate it is. An' I got wine, too! Oh!—Well, + they may talk, but wine is the drink! Bring me the ould knife, till I make + a fair divide of it among ye. Musha, what kind o' mate can it be, for + myself doesn't remimber atin' any sort, barrin' bacon an' a bit o' + slink-veal of an odd time?” + </p> + <p> + They all ate it with an experimental air of sagacity that was rather + amusing. None, however, had ever tasted mutton before, and consequently + the name of the meat remained, on that occasion, a profound secret to + M'Evoy and his family.* It is true, they supposed it to be mutton; but not + one of them could pronounce it to be such, from any positive knowledge of + its peculiar flavor. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * There are hundreds of thousands—yes, millions—of + the poorer classes in Ireland, who have never tasted + mutton! +</pre> + <p> + “Well,” said Dominick, “it's no matther what the name of it is, in regard + that it's good mate, any way, for them that has enough of it.” + </p> + <p> + With a fervent heart and streaming eyes did this virtuous family offer up + their grateful prayers to that God whose laws they had not knowingly + violated, and to whose providence they owed so much. Nor was their + benefactor forgotten. The strength and energy of the Irish language, being + that in which the peasantry usually pray, were well adapted to express the + depth of their gratitude towards a man who had, as they said, “humbled + himself to look into their wants, as if he was like one of themselves!” + </p> + <p> + For upwards of ten years they had not gone to bed free from the heaviness + of care, or the wasting grasp of poverty. Now their hearth was once more + surrounded by peace and contentment; their burthens were removed, their + pulses beat freely, and the language of happiness again was heard under + their humble roof. Even sleep could not repress the vivacity of their + enjoyments: they dreamt of their brother—for in the Irish heart + domestic affections hold the first place;—they dreamt of the farm to + which those affections had so long yearned. They trod it again as its + legitimate possessors. Its fields were brighter, its corn waved with + softer murmurs to the breeze, its harvests were richer, and the song of + their harvest home more cheerful than before. Their delight was + tumultuous, but intense; and when they arose in the morning to a sober + certainty of waking bliss, they again knelt in worship to God with + exulting hearts, and again offered up their sincere prayers in behalf of + the just man who had asserted their rights against the oppressor. + </p> + <p> + Colonel B. was a man who, without having been aware of it, possessed an + excellent capacity for business. The neglect of his property resulted not + from want of feeling, but merely from want of consideration. There had, + moreover, been no precedent for him to follow. He had seen no Irishman of + rank ever bestow a moment's attention on his tenantry. They had been, for + the most part, absentees like himself, and felt satisfied if they + succeeded in receiving their half-yearly remittance in due course, without + ever reflecting for a moment upon the situation of those from whom it was + drawn. + </p> + <p> + Nay, what was more—he had not seen even the resident gentry enter + into the state and circumstances of those who lived upon their property. + It was a mere accident that determined him to become acquainted with his + tenants; but no sooner had he seen his duty, and come to the resolution of + performing it, than the decision of his character became apparent. It is + true, that, within the last few years, the Irish landlords have advanced + in knowledge. Many of them have introduced more improved systems of + agriculture, and instructed their tenants in the best methods of applying + them; but during the time of which we write, an Irish landlord only saw + his tenants when canvassing them for their votes, and instructed them in + dishonesty and perjury, not reflecting that he was then teaching them to + practise the arts of dissimulation and fraud against himself. This was the + late system: let us hope that it will be superseded by a better one; and + that the landlord will think it a duty, but neither a trouble nor a + condescension, to look into his own affairs, and keep an eye upon the + morals and habits of his tenantry. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel, as he had said, remained more than a fortnight upon his + estate; and, as he often declared since, the recollections arising from + the good which he performed during that brief period, rendered it the + portion of his past life upon which he could look with most satisfaction. + He did not leave the country till he saw M'Evoy and his family restored to + their farm, and once more independent;—until he had redressed every + well-founded complaint, secured the affections of those who had before + detested him, and diffused peace and comfort among every family upon his + estate. From thenceforth he watched the interests of his tenants, and soon + found that in promoting their welfare, and instructing them in their + duties, he was more his own benefactor than theirs. Before many years had + elapsed, his property was wonderfully improved; he himself was called the + “Lucky Landlord,” “bekase,” said the people, “ever since he spoke to, an' + advised his tenants, we find that it's lucky to live undher him. The + people has heart to work wid a gintleman that won't grind thim; an' so + sign's on it, every one thrives upon his land: an' dang my bones, but I + believe a rotten stick 'ud grow on it, set in case it was thried.” + </p> + <p> + In sooth, his popularity became proverbial; but it is probable, that not + even his justice and humanity contributed so much to this, as the vigor + with which he prosecuted his suit against “Yellow Sam,” whom he compelled + literally to “disgorge” the fruits of his heartless extortion. This worthy + agent died soon after his disgrace, without any legitimate issue; and his + property, which amounted to about fifty thousand pounds, is now inherited + by a gentleman of the strictest honor and integrity. To this day his + memory is detested by the people, who, with that bitterness by which they + stigmatized a villain, have erected him into a standard of dishonesty. If + a man become remarkable for want of principle, they usually say—“he's + as great a rogue as Yallow Sam;” or, “he is the greatest sconce that ever + was in the country, barrin' Yallow Sam.” + </p> + <p> + We now dismiss him, and request our readers, at the same time, not to + suppose that we have held him up as a portrait of Irish agents in general. + On the contrary, we believe that they constitute a most respectable class + of men, who have certainly very difficult duties to perform. The Irish + landlords, we are happy to say, taught by experience, have, for the most + part, both seen and felt the necessity of appointing gentlemen of property + to situations so very important, and which require so much patience, + consideration, and humanity, in those who fill them. We trust they will + persevere in this plan; * but we can assure them, that all the virtues of + the best agent can never compensate, in the opinion of the people, for + neglect in the “Head Landlord.” One visit, or act, even of nominal + kindness, for him, will at any time produce more attachment and gratitude + among them, than a whole life spent in good offices by an agent. Like + Sterne's French Beggar, they would prefer a pinch of snuff from the one, + to a guinea from the other. The agent only renders them a favor, but the + Head Landlord does them an honor. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This tale has been written nearly twelve years, but + the author deeply regrets that the Irish landlords have + disentitled themselves to the favorable notice taken of + them in the text. +</pre> + <p> + Colonel B., immediately after his return home, sent for Mr. O'Brien, who + waited on him with a greater degree of curiosity than perhaps he had ever + felt before. The Colonel smiled as he extended his hand to him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. O'Brien,” said he, “I knew you would feel anxious to hear the result + of my visit to the estate which this man with the nickname managed for + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Managed, sir? Did you say managed?” + </p> + <p> + “I spoke in the past time, O'Brien: he is out.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your protege's story was correct, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “True to a title. O'Brien, there is something extraordinary in that boy; + otherwise, how could it happen that a sickly, miserable-looking creature, + absolutely in tatters, could have impressed us both so strongly with a + sense of the injustice done ten years ago to his father? It is, indeed, + remarkable.” + </p> + <p> + “The boy, Colonel, deeply felt that act of injustice, and the expression + of it came home to the heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I have restored his father, however. The poor man and his family are once + more happy. I have stocked their old farm for them; in! fact, they now + enjoy comfort and independence.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad, sir, that you have done them justice. That act, alone, will go + far to redeem your character from the odium which the conduct of your + agent was calculated to throw upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “There is not probably in Ireland a landlord so popular as I am this + moment—at least among my tenants on that property. Restoring M'Evoy, + however, is but a small part of what I have done. Carson's pranks were + incredible. He was a rack-renter of the first water. A person named Brady + had paid him twenty-five guineas as a douceur—in other words, as a + bribe—for renewing a lease for him; yet, after having received the + money, he kept the poor man dangling after him, and at length told him + that he was offered a larger sum by another. In some cases he kept back + the receipts, and made the poor people pay twice, which was still more + iniquitous. Then, sir, he would not take bank notes in payment. No; he was + so wonderfully concientious, and so zealously punctual in fulfilling my + wishes, as he told them on the subject, that nothing would pass in payment + but gold. This gold, sir, they were compelled to receive from himself, at + a most oppressive premium; so that he actually fleeced them under my name, + in every conceivable manner and form of villainy. He is a usurer, too; + and, I am told, worth forty or fifty thousand pounds: but, thank heaven! + he is no longer an agent of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “It gives me sincere pleasure, sir, that you have at length got correct + habits of thinking upon your duties as an Irish landlord; for believe me, + Colonel B., as a subject involving a great portion of national happiness + or national misery, it is entitled to the deepest and most serious + consideration, not only of the class to which you belong, but of the + legislature. Something should be done, sir, to improve the condition of + the poorer classes. A rich country and poor inhabitants is an anomaly; and + whatever is done should be prompt and effectual. If the Irish landlords + looked directly into the state of their tenantry, and set themselves + vigorously to the task of bettering their circumstances, they would, I am + certain, establish the tranquillity and happiness of the country at large. + The great secret, Colonel, of the dissensions that prevail among us is the + poverty of the people. They are poor, and therefore the more easily + wrought up to outrage; they are poor, and think that any change must be + for the better; they are not only poor, but imaginative, and the fittest + recipients for those vague speculations by which they are deluded. Let + their condition be improved, and the most fertile source of popular tumult + and crime is closed. Let them be taught how to labor: let them not be + bowed to the earth by rents so far above the real value of their lands. + The pernicious maxims which float among them must be refuted—not by + theory, but by practical lessons performed before their eyes for their own + advantage. Let them be taught how to discriminate between their real + interests and their prejudices; and none can teach them all this so + effectually as their landlords, if they could be roused from their apathy, + and induced to undertake the task. Who ever saw a poor nation without + great crimes?” + </p> + <p> + “Very true, O'Brien; quite true. I am resolved to inspect personally the + condition of those who reside on my other estates. But now about our + protege? How is he doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Extremely well. I have had a letter from him a few days ago, in which he + alludes to the interest you have taken in himself and his family, with a + depth of feeling truly affecting.” + </p> + <p> + “When you write to him, let him know that I have placed his father in his + old farm; and that Carson is out. Say I am sure he will conduct himself + properly, in which case I charge myself with his expenses until he shall + have accomplished his purpose. After that he may work his own way through + life, and I have no doubt but he will do it well and honorably.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel B———'s pledge on this occasion was nobly + redeemed. Our humble hero pursued his studies with zeal and success. In + due time he entered Maynooth, where he distinguished himself not simply + for smartness as a student, but as a young man possessed of a mind far + above the common order. During all this time nothing occurred worthy of + particular remark, except that, in fulfilment of his former vow, he never + wrote to any of his friends; for the reader should have been told, that + this was originally comprehended in the determination he had formed. He + received ordination at the hands of his friend the Bishop, whom we have + already introduced to the reader, and on the same day he was appointed by + that gentleman to a curacy in his own parish. The Colonel, whose regard + for him never cooled, presented him with fifty pounds, together with a + horse, saddle, and bridle; so that he found himself in a capacity to enter + upon his duties in a decent and becoming manner. Another circumstance that + added considerably to his satisfaction, was the appointment of Mr. O'Brien + to a parish adjoining that of the Bishop. James's afflictions had been the + means of bringing the merits of that excellent man before his spiritual + superior, who became much attached to him, and availed himself of the + earliest opportunity of rewarding his unobtrusive piety and benevolence. + </p> + <p> + No sooner was his ordination completed, than the long suppressed yearnings + after his home and kindred came upon his spirit with a power that could + not be restrained. He took leave of his friends with a beating heart, and + set out on a delightful summer morning to revisit all that had been, + notwithstanding his long absence and severe trials, so strongly wrought + into his memory and affections. Our readers may, therefore, suppose him on + his journey home, and permit, themselves to be led in imagination to the + house of his former friend, Lanigan, where we must lay the scene for the + present. + </p> + <p> + Lanigan's residence has the same comfortable and warm appearance which + always distinguishes the habitation of the independent and virtuous man. + What, however, can the stir, and bustle, and agitation which prevail in it + mean? The daughters run out to a little mound, a natural terrace, beside + the house, and look anxiously towards the road; then return, and almost + immediately appear again, with the same intense anxiety to catch a glimpse + of some one whom they expect. They look keenly; but why is it that their + disappointment appears to be attended with such dismay? They go into their + father's house once more, wringing their hands, and betraying all the + symptoms of affliction. Here is their mother, too, coming to peer into the + distance, she is rocking with that motion peculiar to Irishwomen when + suffering distress. She places her open hand upon her brows that she may + collect her sight to a particular spot; she is blinded by her tears; + breaks out into a low wail, and returns with something like the darkness + of despair on her countenance. She goes into the house, passes through the + kitchen, and enters into a bed-room; seats herself on a chair beside the + bed, and renews her low but' bitter wail of sorrow. Her husband is lying + in that state which the peasantry know usually precedes the agonies of + death. + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of the livin' God,” said he, on seeing her, “is there any + sign o' them?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, a <i>suillish</i>; (* My light) but they will soon—they + must soon, asthore, be here, an' thin your mind will be asy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Alley, Alley, if you could know what I suffer for 'fraid I'd die + widout the priest you'd pity me!” + </p> + <p> + “I do pity you, asthore: but don't be cast down, for I have my trust in + God that he won't desart you in your last hour. You did what you could, my + heart's pride; you bent before him night an' mornin', and sure the poor + neighbor never wint from your door widout lavin' his blessin' behind him.” + </p> + <p> + The dying man raised his hands feebly from the bed-clothes; “Ah!” he + exclaimed, “I thought I did a great dale, Alley: but now—but now—it + appears nothin' to what I ought to a' done when I could. Still, + avour-neen, my life's not unpleasant when I look back at it; for I can't + remimber that I ever purposely offinded a livin' mortal. All I want to + satisfy me is the priest.” + </p> + <p> + “No, avourneen, you did not; for it wasn't in you to offind a child.” + </p> + <p> + “Alley, you'll pardon me an' forgive me acushla, if ever—if ever I + did what was displasin' to you! An' call in the childhre, till I see them + about me—I want to have their forgiveness, too. I know I'll have it—for + they wor good childhre, an' ever loved me.” + </p> + <p> + The daughters now entered the room, exclaiming—“<i>Ahir dheelish</i> + (beloved father), Pether is comin' by himself, but no priest! Blessed + Queen of Heaven, what will we do! Oh! father darlin', are you to die + widout the Holy Ointment?” + </p> + <p> + The sick man clasped his hands, looked towards heaven and groaned aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's hard, this,” said he. “It's hard upon me! Yet I won't be cast + down. I'll trust in my good God; I'll trust in his blessed name!” + </p> + <p> + His wife, on hearing that her son was returned without the priest, sat, + with her face shrouded by her apron, weeping in grief that none but they + who know the dependence which those belonging to her church place in its + last rites can comprehend. The children appeared almost distracted; their + grief had more of that stunning character which attends unexpected + calamity, than of sorrow for one who is gradually drawn from life. + </p> + <p> + At length the messenger entered the room, and almost choked with tears, + stated that both priests were absent that day at Conference, and would not + return till late. + </p> + <p> + The hitherto moderated grief of the wife arose to a pitch much wilder than + the death of her husband could, under ordinary circumstances, occasion. To + die without absolution—to pass away into eternity “unanointed, + unaneled”—without being purified from the inherent stains of + humanity—was to her a much deeper affliction than her final + separation from him. She cried in tones of the most piercing despair, and + clapped her hands, as they do who weep over the dead. Had he died in the + calm confidence of having received the Viaticum, or Sacrament before + death, his decease would have had nothing remarkably calamitous in it, + beyond usual occurrences of a similar nature. Now the grief was intensely + bitter in consequence of his expected departure without the priest. His + sons and daughters felt it as forcibly as his wife; their lamentations + were full of the strongest and sharpest agony. + </p> + <p> + For nearly three hours did they remain in this situation; poor Lanigan + sinking by degrees into that collapsed state from which there is no + possibility of rallying. He was merely able to speak; and recognize his + family; but every moment advanced him, with awful certainty, nearer and + nearer to his end.. + </p> + <p> + A great number of the neighbors were now assembled, all participating in + the awful feeling which predominated, and anxious to compensate by their + prayers for the absence of that confidence derived by Roman Catholics + during the approach of death, from the spiritual aid of the priest. They + were all at prayer; the sick-room and kitchen were crowded with his + friends and acquaintances, many of whom knelt out before the door, and + joined with loud voices in the Rosary which was offered up in his behalf. + </p> + <p> + In this crisis were they, when a horseman, dressed in black, approached + the house. Every head was instantly turned round, with a hope that it + might be the parish priest or his curate; but, alas! they were doomed to + experience a fresh disappointment. The stranger, though clerical enough in + his appearance, presented a countenance with which none of them was + acquainted. On glancing at the group who knelt around the door, he + appeared to understand the melancholy cause which brought them together. + </p> + <p> + “How is this?” he exclaimed. “Is there any one here sick or dying?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Misther Lanigan, sir, is jist departing glory be to God! An' what is + terrible all out upon himself and family, he's dyin' widout the priest. + They're both at Conwhirence, sir, and can't come—Mr. Dogherty an' + his curate.” + </p> + <p> + “Make way!” said the stranger, throwing himself off his horse, and passing + quickly through the people. “Show me to the sick man's room—be + quick, my friends—I am a Catholic clergyman.” + </p> + <p> + In a moment a passage was cleared, and the stranger found himself beside + the bed of death. Grief in the room was loud and bitter; but his presence + stilled it despite of what they felt. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friends,” said he, “you know there should be silence in the + apartment of a dying man. For shame!—for shame! Cease this clamor, + it will but distract him for whom you weep, and prevent him from composing + his mind for the great trial that is before him.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Lanigan's wife, seizing his hand in both hers, and looking + distractedly in his face, “are you a priest? For heaven's sake tell us?” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” he replied; “leave the room every one of you. I hope your husband + is not speechless?” + </p> + <p> + “Sweet Queen of Heaven, not yet, may her name be praised! but near it, + your Reverence—widin little or no time of it.”. + </p> + <p> + Whilst they spoke, he was engaged in putting the stole about his neck, + after which he cleared the room, and commenced hearing Lanigan's + confession. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of a priest, and the consolation it produced, rallied the + powers of life in the benevolent farmer. He became more collected; made a + clear and satisfactory confession; received the sacrament of Extreme + Unction; and felt himself able to speak with tolerable distinctness and + precision. The effects of all this were astonishing. A placid serenity, + full of hope and confidence, beamed from the pale and worn features of him + who was but a few minutes before in a state of terror altogether + indescribable. When his wife and family, after having been called in, + observed this change, they immediately participated in his tranquillity. + Death had been deprived of its sting, and grief of its bitterness; their + sorrow was still deep, but it was not darkened by the dread of future + misery. They felt for him as a beloved father, a kind husband, and a clear + friend, who had lived a virtuous life, feared God, and was now about to + pass into happiness. + </p> + <p> + When the rites of the church were administered, and the family again + assembled round the bed, the priest sat down in a position which enabled + him to see the features of this good man more distinctly. + </p> + <p> + “I would be glad,” said Lanigan, “to know who it is that God in his + goodness has sent to smooth my bed in death, if it 'ud be plasin', sir, to + you to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember,” replied the priest, “a young lad whom you met some + years ago on his way to Munster, as a poor scholar! You and your family + were particularly kind to him; so kind that he has never since forgotten + your affectionate hospitality.” + </p> + <p> + “We do, your Reverence, we do. A mild, gentle crathur he was, poor boy. I + hope God prospered him.” + </p> + <p> + “You see him now before you,” said the priest. “I am that boy, and I thank + God that I can testify, however slightly, my deep sense of the virtues + which you exercised towards me; although I regret that the occasion is one + of such affliction.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer raised his eyes and feeble hands towards heaven. “Praise an' + glory to your name, good God!” he exclaimed. “Praise an' glory to your + holy name! Now I know that I'm not forgotten, when you brought back the + little kindness I did that boy for your sake, wid so many blessins to me + in the hour of my affliction an' sufferin'! Childher remimber this, now + that I'm goin' to lave yez for ever! Remimber always to help the stranger, + an' thim that's poor an' in sorrow. If you do, God won't forget it to you; + but will bring it back to yez when you stand in need of it, as he done to + me this day. You see, childhre dear, how small thrifles o' that kind + depend on one another. If I hadn't thought of helpin' his Reverence here + when he was young and away from his own, he wouldn't think of callin' upon + us this day as he was passin'. You see the hand of God is in it, childhre: + which it is, indeed, in every thing that passes about us, if we could only + see it as we ought to do. Thin, but I'd like to look upon your face, sir, + if it's plasin' to you? A little more to the light, sir. There, I now see + you. Ay, indeed, it's changed for the betther it is—: the same mild, + clear countenance, but not sorrowful, as when I seen it last. Suffer me to + put my hand on your head, sir; I'd like to bless you before I die, for I + can't forget what you undertook to do for your parents.” + </p> + <p> + The priest sat near him; but finding he was scarcely able to raise his + hand to his head, he knelt down, and the farmer, before he communicated + the blessing inquired— + </p> + <p> + “Musha, sir, may I ax, wor you able to do anything to help your family as + you expected?” + </p> + <p> + “God,” said the priest, “made me the instrument of raising them from their + poverty; they are now comfortable and happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! Well I knew at the time, an' I said it, that a blessin' would attind + your endayvors. An' now resave my blessin'. May you never depart from the + right way! May the blessin' of God rest upon you for ever—Amin! + Childhre, I'm gettin' wake; come near me, till, till I bless you, too, for + the last time! They were good childhre, sir—they were ever an' + always good to me, an' to their poor mother, your Reverence; an'—God + forgive me if it's a sin!—but I feel a great dale o' my heart an' my + love fixed upon them. But sure I'm their father, an' God, I hope, will + look over it! Now, darlins, afore I bless yez, I ax your forgiveness if + ever I was harsher to yez than I ought!” + </p> + <p> + The children with a simultaneous movement encircled his bed, and could not + reply for some minutes. + </p> + <p> + “Never, father darlin'! Oh, never did you offind us! Don't speak in that + way, or you'll break our hearts; but forgive us, father asthore! Oh, + forgive an' bless us, an' don't remimber against us, our folly an' + disobedience, for it's only now that we see we warn't towards you as we + ought to be. Forgive us an' pardon us!” + </p> + <p> + He then made them all kneel around his bed, and with solemn words, and an + impressive manner, placed his hand upon their heads, and blessed them with + a virtuous father's last blessing. + </p> + <p> + He then called for his wife, and the scene became not only more touching, + but more elevated. There was an exultation in her manner, and an + expression of vivid hope in her eye, arising from the fact of her husband + having received, and been soothed by the rites of her church, that gave + evident proof of the unparalleled attachment borne by persons of her class + to the Catholic religion. The arrival of our hero had been so unexpected, + and the terrors of the tender wife for her husband's soul so great, that + the administration of the sacrament almost superseded from her heart every + other sensation than that of devotional triumph. Even now, in the midst of + her tears, that triumph kindled in her eye with a light that shone in + melancholy beauty upon the bed of death. In proportion, however, as the + parting scene—which was to be their last—began to work with + greater power upon her sorrow, so did this expression gradually fade away. + Grief for his loss resumed its dominion over her heart so strongly, that + their last parting was afflicting even to look upon. + </p> + <p> + When it was over, Lanigan once more addressed the priest:— + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” he observed, but with great difficulty, “let me have your + blessin' an' your prayers; an' along wid that, your Reverence, if you + remimber a request I once made to you”— + </p> + <p> + “I remember it well,” replied the priest; “you allude to the masses which + you-wished I me to say for you, should I ever receive Orders. Make your + mind easy on that point. I not only shall offer up mass for the repose of + your soul, but I can assure you that I have mentioned you by name in every + mass which I celebrated since my ordination.” + </p> + <p> + He then proceeded to direct the mind of his dying benefactor to such + subjects as were best calculated to comfort and strengthen him. + </p> + <p> + About day-break the next morning, this man of many virtues, after + struggling rather severely for two hours preceding his death, passed into + eternity, there to enjoy the recompense of a well-spent life. + </p> + <p> + When he was dead, the priest, who never left him during the night, + approached the bed, and after surveying his benevolent features, now + composed in the stillness of death, exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, for they rest from their + labors, and their works do follow them!” + </p> + <p> + Having uttered the words aloud, he sat down beside the bed, buried his + face in his handkerchief, and wept. + </p> + <p> + He was now only a short day's journey from home, and as his presence, he + knew, would be rather a restraint upon a family so much in affliction, he + bade them farewell, and proceeded on his way. He travelled slowly, and, as + every well-known hill or lake appeared to him, his heart beat quickly, his + memory gave up its early stores, and his affections prepared themselves + for the trial that was before them. + </p> + <p> + “It is better for me not to arrive,” thought he, “until the family shall + have returned from their daily labor, and are collected about the hearth.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, many an impression of profound and fervid piety came over + him, when he reflected upon the incontrovertible proofs of providential + protection and interference which had been, during his absence from home, + under his struggles, and, in his good fortune, so clearly laid before him. + “Deep,” he exclaimed, “is the gratitude I owe to God for this; may I never + forget to acknowledge it!” + </p> + <p> + It was now about seven o'clock; the evening was calm, and the sun shone + with that clear amber light which gives warmth, and the power of exciting + tenderness to natural scenery. He had already gained the ascent which + commanded a view of the rich sweep of country that reposed below. There it + lay—his native home—his native parish—bathed in the + light and glory of the hour. Its fields were green—its rivers + shining like loosened silver; its meadows already studded with hay-cocks, + its green pastures covered with sheep, and its unruffled lakes reflecting + the hills under which they lay. Here and there a gentleman's residence + rose among the distant trees, and well did he recognize the church spire + that cut into the western sky on his right. It is true, nothing of the + grandeur and magnificence of nature was there; everything was simple in + its beauty. The quiet charm, the serene light, the air of happiness and + peace that reposed upon all he saw, stirred up a thousand tender feelings + in a heart whose gentle character resembled that of the prospect which it + felt so exquisitely. The smoke of a few farm-houses and cottages rose in + blue, graceful columns to the air, giving just that appearance of life + which was necessary; and a figure or two, with lengthened shadows, moved + across the fields and meadows a little below where he stood. + </p> + <p> + But our readers need not to be told, that there was one spot which, beyond + all others, riveted his attention. On that spot his eager eye rested long + and intensely. The spell of its remembrance had clung to his early heart: + he had never seen it in his dreams without weeping; and often had the + agitation of his imaginary sorrow awoke him with his eye-lashes steeped in + tears. He looked down on it steadily. At length he was moved with a strong + sensation like grief: he sobbed twice or thrice, and the tears rolled in + showers from his eyes. His gathering affections were relieved by this: he + felt lighter, and in the same slow manner rode onward to his father's + house. + </p> + <p> + To this there were two modes of access: one by a paved bridle-way, or + boreen, that ran up directly before the door—the other by a green + lane, that diverged from the boreen about a furlong below the house. He + took the latter, certain that the family could not notice his approach, + nor hear the noise of his horse's footsteps, until he could arrive at the + very threshold.. On dismounting, he felt that he could scarcely walk. He + approached the door, however, as steadily as he could. He entered—and + the family, who had just finished their supper, rose up, as a mark of + their respect to the stranger. + </p> + <p> + “Is this,” he inquired, “the house in which Dominick M'Evoy lives?” + </p> + <p> + “That's my name, sir,” replied Dominick. “The family, I trust, are—all—well? + I have been desired—but—no—no—I cannot—I + cannot—father!—mother! + </p> + <p> + “It's him!” shrieked the mother—“Its himself!—Jemmy” + </p> + <p> + “Jemmy!—Jemmy!” shouted the lather, with a cry of joy which might be + heard far beyond the house. + </p> + <p> + “Jemmy!—our poor Jemmy!—Jemmy!!” exclaimed his brothers and + sisters. + </p> + <p> + “Asy, childhre,” said the father—“asy; let the mother to him—let + her to him. Who has the right that she has? Vara, asthore—Vara, + think of yourself. God of heaven! what is comin' over her?—Her + brain's turned!” + </p> + <p> + “Father, don't remove her,” said the son. “Leave her arms where they are: + it's long since they encircled my neck before. Often—often would I + have given the wealth of the universe to be encircled in my blessed and + beloved mother's arms! Yes, yes!—Weep, my father—weep, each of + you. You see those tears:—consider them as a proof that I have never + forgotten you! Beloved mother! recollect yourself: she knows me not—her + eyes wander!—I fear the shock has been too much for her. Place a + chair at the door, and I will bring her to the air.” + </p> + <p> + After considerable effort, the mother's faculties were restored so far as + to be merely conscious that our hero was her son. She had not yet shed a + tear, but now she surveyed his countenance, smiled and named him, placed + her hands upon him, and examined his dress with a singular blending of + conflicting emotions, but still without being thoroughly collected. + </p> + <p> + “I will speak to her,” said Jemmy, “in Irish, it will go directly to her + heart:—<i>Mhair, avourneen, tha ma, laht, anish!</i>—Mother, + my darling, I am with you at last.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Shamus, aroon, vick machree, wuil thu Ihum? wuil thu—wuil thu + Ihum?</i>—Jemmy, my beloved, son of my heart, are you with me?—are + you—are you with me?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Ish maheen a tha in, a vair dheelish machree</i>—It is I who am + with you, beloved mother of my heart!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled again—but only for a moment. She looked at him, laid his + head upon her bosom, bedewed his face with her tears, and muttered out, in + a kind of sweet, musical cadence, the Irish cry of joy. + </p> + <p> + We are incapable of describing the scene further. Our readers must be + contented to know, that the delight and happiness of our hero's whole + family were complete. Their son, after many years of toil and struggle, + had at length succeeded, by a virtuous course of action, in raising them + from poverty to comfort, and in effecting his own object, which was, to + become a member of the Catholic priesthood. During all his trials he never + failed to rely on God; and it is seldom that those who rely upon Him, when + striving to attain a laudable purpose, are ever ultimately disappointed. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + We regret to inform our readers, that the poor scholar is dead! He did + not, in fact, long survive the accomplishment of his wishes. But as we had + the particulars of his story from his nearest friends, we thought his + virtues of too exalted a nature to pass into oblivion without some record, + however humble. He died as he had lived—the friend of God and of + man. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poor Scholar, by William Carleton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POOR SCHOLAR *** + +***** This file should be named 16017-h.htm or 16017-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/0/1/16017/ + +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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