A kemp, or camp, is a contest of industrial skill, or a competition
for priority in a display of rustic labor. Among men it is principally
resorted to in planting potatoes or reaping of corn, and generally only
on the day which closes the labor at each for the season; but in the
sense in which it is most usually practised and contested, it means a
trial of female skill at the spinning of linen yarn. It is, indeed,
a very cheerful assemblage of the fair sex; and, although strong and
desperate rivalry is the order of the day, yet it is conducted in
a spirit so light-hearted and amicable that we scarcely know a more
laudable or delightful recreation in country life. Its object is always
good, and its associations praiseworthy, inasmuch as they promote
industry, a spirit of becoming emulation, and principles of good will
and kindness to our neighbor.
When a kemp is about to be held, the matter soon becomes generally known
in the neighborhood. Sometimes the young women are asked, but in
most instances, so eager are they to attend it that invitations are
unnecessary. In the whiter months, and in mountain districts, it is
often as picturesque as it is pleasant. The young women usually begin
to assemble about four o'clock in the morning; and, as they always go in
groups, accompanied besides by their sweethearts or some male relatives,
each of the latter bearing a large torch of well-dried bogfir, their
voices, and songs, and loud laughter break upon the stillness of
night with a holiday feeling, made ten times more delightful by the
surrounding darkness and the hour. When they have not the torches the
spinning-wheels are carried by the males, amidst an agreeable din of
fun, banter, repartee, and jest, such as scarcely any other rustic
amusement with which we are acquainted ever occasions. On arriving at
the house where the kemp is to be held, they are placed in the barn or
some clean outhouse; but indeed the numbers are usually such as to crowd
every available place that can be procured for their accommodation. From
the moment they arrive the lively din is incessant. Nothing is heard but
laughter, conversation, songs, and anecdotes, all rising in a loud key,
among the louder humming of the spinning-wheels and the stridulous noise
of the reeds, as they incessantly crack the cuts in the hands of the
reelers, who are perpetually turning them from morning to night, in
order to ascertain the quantity which every competitor has spun; and
she, of course, who has spun most wins the kemp, and is the queen for
the night.
A kemp invariably closes with a dance--and a dance too upon an unusually
extensive scale. Indeed, during the whole day the fair competitors are
regaled from time to time with the enlivening strains of the fiddle or
bagpipes, and very often with the united melody of both together.
On that morning the dwelling-house and mostly all the out-offices of
Gerald Cavanagh bore, in stir and bustle, a stronger resemblance to the
activity of so many bee-hives about to swarm than to anything else
to which we can think of comparing them. Mirth in all its shapes, of
laughter, glee, and song, rang out in every direction. The booming
of wheels and the creaking of reels, the loud banter, the peals of
laughter, the sweet Irish songs that filled up the pauses of the louder
mirth, and the strains of the fiddle that ever and anon added to the
enlivening spirit of the scene, all constituted such a full and general
chorus of hilarity as could seldom be witnessed.
There were many girls present who took no part in the competition, but
who, as friends and acquaintances of Kathleen and Hanna, came to enjoy
the festive spirit of the day. Hanna herself, however, who had earned
some celebrity as a spinster, started for the honor of winning, as did
Dora M'Mahon, whose small and beautiful fingers seemed admirably adapted
for this graceful and peculiarly feminine process of Minerva. Towards
evening the neighbors assembled in considerable numbers, each interested
in the success of some peculiar favorite, whose former feats had induced
her friends to entertain on her behalf strong, if not certain, hopes of
victory. Kathleen, from a principle of generosity, patronized her young
friend, Dora M'Mahon; and Shibby M'Mahon, on the other hand, took
Hanna Cavanagh under her protection. As the evening advanced, and the
spectators and friends of the parties began to call, in order to be
present at the moment of victory, it would be difficult to witness any
assemblage of young women placed under circumstances of such striking
interest. The mirth and song and general murmur diminished by degrees,
until they altogether ceased, and. nothing was to be heard but the
perpetual cracking of the reels, the hum of the rapid wheels, and the
voices of the reelers, as they proclaimed the state of this enlivening
pool of industry. As for the fair competitors themselves, it might have
been observed that even those among them who had no, or at least but
slight pretensions to beauty, became actually interesting from the
excitement which prevailed. Their eyes lit by the active spirit of
rivalry within them, sparkled with peculiar brilliancy, their cheeks
became flushed or got pale as they felt themselves elevated or depressed
by the prospect or loss of victory. Nor were there wanting on this
occasion some vivid glances that were burthened, as they passed aslant,
their fair faces, with pithier feelings than those that originated from
a simple desire of victory. If truth must be told, baleful flashes,
unmeasured both in number and expression, were exchanged in a spirit
of true defiance between the interested and contending parties, as the
close of the contest approached. At length, by the proclamation of the
reelers, the great body of the competitors were thrown out, and they
consequently gave up the contest. It was now six o'clock, and the
first sound of seven o'clock by Captain Millar's bell was to close the
proceedings, and enable the reelers to proclaim the victor. Only four
names now remained to battle it out to the last; to wit, a country
farmer's daughter, named Betty Aikins, Dora M'Mahon, Hanna Cavanagh, and
a servant-girl belonging to another neighbor, named Peggy Bailly. This
ruck, as they say on the turf, was pretty well up together, but all
the rest nowhere. And now, to continue the metaphor, as is the case
at Goodwood or the Curragh, the whole interest was centered upon these
four. At the commencement of the last hour the state of the case was
proclaimed as follows: Betty Aikins, three dozen and eight cuts; Dora
M'Mahon, three dozen and seven cuts; Hanna Cavanagh, three dozen and
five cuts; and Peggy Bailly, three dozen and four cuts. Every individual
had now her own party anxious for her success, and amidst this hour of
interest how many hearts beat with all hopes and fears that are incident
even to the most circumscribed contest of human life. Opposite Dora
stood the youth whom we have already noticed, James Cavanagh, whose
salvation seemed but a very trifling thing when compared or put into
opposition with her success. Be this as it may, the moment was a most
exciting one even to those who felt no other interest than that which
naturally arises from human competition. And it was unquestionably
a beautiful thing to witness this particular contest between, four
youthful and industrious young women. Dora's otherwise pale and placid
features were now mantling, and her beautiful dark eyes flashing,
under the proud and ardent spirit of ambition, for such in fact was the
principle which now urged and animated the contest. When nearly half an
hour had passed, Kathleen came behind her, and stooping down, whispered,
“Dora, don't turn your wheel so quickly: you move the, foot-board too
fast--don't twist the thread too much, and you'll let down more.”
Dora smiled and looked up to her with a grateful and flashing eye.
“Thank you, Kathleen,” she replied, nodding, “I'll take your advice.”
The state of the contest was then proclaimed:--Betty Aikins--three dozen
and ten cuts; Dora M'Mahon--three dozen and ten cuts; Hanna Cavanagh
--three dozen, six cuts and a half; Peggy Bailly--three dozen, five and
a half.
On hearing this, Betty Aikin's cheek became scarlet, and as it is
useless to disguise the fact, several flashing glances that partook
more of a Penthesilean fire than the fearful spirit which usually
characterizes the industrious pursuits of Minerva, were shot at generous
Dora, who sustained her portion of the contest with singular spirit and
temper.
“You may as well give it up, Dora M'Mahon,” exclaimed Betty; “there
never was one of your blood could open against an Aikins--the stuff is
not in you to beat me.”
“A very little time will soon tell that,” replied Dora; “but indeed,
Betty, if I am doin' my best to win the kemp, I hope it's not in a bad
or unfriendly spirit, but in one of fair play and good humor.”
The contest now went on for about fifteen minutes, with surpassing
interest and animation, at the expiration of which period, the seven
o'clock bell already alluded to, rang the hour for closing their labors
and determining the victory. Thus stood their relative position--Dora
M'Mahon, four hanks and three cuts; Betty Aikins, four hanks; Hanna
Cavanagh, three hanks and nine cuts; Peggy Bailly, three hanks and eight
cuts.
When this result was made known, Betty Aikins burst into a loud fit
of grief, in which she sobbed as if her very heart would break, and
Kathleen stooping down, congratulated the beautiful girl upon her
victory, kissing her at the same time as she spoke--an act of love and
kindness in which she would have joyfully been followed by several of
her male friends, if they had dared to take that delicious liberty.
The moment of victory, we believe, is that which may be relied upon as
the test of true greatness. Dora M'Mahon felt the pride of that moment
in its fullest extent, but she felt it only to influence her better and
nobler principles. After casting her eyes around to gather in, as it
were, that honest approbation which is so natural, and exchanging some
rapid glances with the youth we have alluded to, she went over to her
defeated competitor, and taking her hand said, “Don't cry, Betty, you
have no right to be ashamed; sure, as you say, it's the first time you
wor ever beaten; we couldn't all win; an' indeed if I feel proud
now, everyone knows an' says I have a right to be so; for where was
there--ay, or where is there--such a spinner as you are?
“Shake hands now an' there's a kiss for you. If I won this kemp, it was
won more by chance than by anything else.”
These generous expressions were not lost on Betty; on the contrary, they
soothed her so much that she gave her hand cordially to her young and
interesting conqueress, after which they all repaired to a supper of new
milk and flummery, than which there is nothing more delicious within the
wide range of luxury. This agreeable meal being over, they repaired to
the large barn where Mickey M'Grory the fiddler, was installed in his
own peculiar orchestra, consisting of an arm-chair of old Irish oak,
brought out from Gerald Cavanagh's parlor.
It would indeed be difficult to find together such a group of happy
faces. Gerald Cavanagh and his wife, Tom M'Mahon and his better
half, and several of the neighbors, of every age and creed, were all
assembled; and, in this instance, neither gray hairs nor length of years
were looked upon as privileged from a participation in the festivities
of the evening. Among the rest, gaunt and grim, were the three Hogans,
looking through the light-hearted assemblage with the dark and sinister
visages of thorough ruffians, who were altogether incapable of joining
in the cheerful and inoffensive amusements that went forward around
them. Kate Hogan sat in an obscure corner behind the fiddler, where
she was scarcely visible, but from which she enjoyed a full view of
everything that occurred in the house.
A shebeen-man, named Parra Bradagh, father to Barney, whom the reader
has already met in the still-house, brought a cask of poteen to the
stable, where he disposed of it _sub silentio_, by which we mean without
the knowledge of Gerald Cavanagh, who would not have suffered any such
person about his place, had the circumstance been made known to him.
Among the rest, in the course of the evening, our friend O'Finigan the
Philomath made his appearance, and as was his wont very considerably
advanced in liquor. The worthy pedagogue, on inquiring for the queen
of the kemp, as he styled her, was told that he might know her by the
flowers in her hair. “There she is, masther,” said one of them, “wid the
roses on her head.”
“Well,” said O'Finigan, looking about him with surprise, “I have, before
now, indulged in the Cerelian juice until my eyes have become possessed
of that equivocal quality called the double vision, but I must confess
that this is the first occasion on which the quality aforesaid has been
quadrupled. Instead of one queen, wid Flora's fragrant favors in her
lock, I think I see four.”
Finigan indeed was right. Dora, on being presented with a simple chaplet
of flowers, as the heroine of the night, in a spirit of true magnanimity
generously divided the chaplet among her three rivals, thus, like every
brave heart, resting satisfied with the consciousness of victory, and
anxious that those who had approached her so nearly should also share in
its honors.
It is not our intention to enter into a detailed account of the dancing,
nor of the good humor which prevailed among them. It is enough to say
that the old people performed minuets and cotillions, and the young
folks, jigs, reels, and country dances; hornpipes were performed upon
doors, by rural dancers, and all the usual variations of mirth and
amusement were indulged in on the occasion.
We have said that Tom M'Mahon and his family were there, but we should
have added, with one exception. Bryan did not arrive until the evening
was far advanced, having been prevented by pressing business connected
with his farm. On making his appearance, he was greeted by a murmur of
welcomes, and many an honest hand was extended to him. Up until then
there were two individuals who observed Kathleen Cavanagh closely, and
we must ourselves admit that both came to the same conclusion. Its was
clear that during the whole evening she had been unusually pensive,
if not actually depressed, although a general observer would have seen
nothing in her beyond the natural sedateness of her manner. The two in
question were Kate Hogan and Dora M'Mahon. On Bryan's arrival, however,
the color of her cheek deeped into a richer beauty, the eye became more
sparkling, and a much slighter jest than before moved her into mirth.
Such, however, we are, and such is the mystery of our nature. It might
have been remarked that the Hogans eyed Bryan, soon after making his
appearance, with glances expressive of anything but good feeling. It was
not, however, when he first arrived, or danced with Hanna Cavanagh, that
these boding glances were turned upon him, but on the occasion of his
performing a reel with Kathleen. It might have been noticed that they
looked at him, and afterwards at each other, in a manner that could
admit of but little misapprehension.
“Philip,” observed Finigan, addressing the elder Hogan,--“Philip,
the Macedonian--monarch of Macedon, I say, is not that performance
a beautiful specimen of the saltatory art? There is manly beauty, O
Philip! and modest carriage.
“'With aquil beauty formed, and aquil grace,
Hers the soft blushes of the opening morn,
And his the radiance of the risen day.'”
“It's night now, misther, if you plaise,” returned Hogan, gruffly;
“but we don't want your opinion here--stick to your pothooks and
hangers--keep to your trade.”
“The _pot-hooks_ and _hangers_ are more _tui generis_, you misbegotten
satyr,” replied the schoolmaster; “that is, more appropriately
concatenated with your own trade than wid mine. I have no trade, sirra,
but a profession, and neither have you. You stand in the same degraded
ratio to a tradesman that a rascally quack does to a regular surgeon.”
“You had better keep a civil tongue in jour head,” replied Hogan,
nettled at the laughter which the schoolmaster raised at his expense.
“What! a civil tongue for you! Polite language for a rascally
sotherer of ould skillets and other anonymous utensils. Why, what
are you?--firstly, a general violation of the ten commandments; and,
secondly, a misshapen but faithful impersonation of the seven deadly
sins. Take my word for it, my worthy Macedonian, you will die any death
but a horizontal one--it's veracity I'm telling you. Yet there is some
comfort for you too--some comfort, I say again; for you who never lived
one upright hour will die an upright death. A certain official will
erect a perpendicular with you; but for that touck of Mathematics you
must go to the hangman, at whose hands you will have to receive the
rites of your church, you monstrous bog-trotting Gorgon. Mine a trade!
Shades of Academus, am I to bear this!”
Finigan was, like most of his class, a privileged man; but on this
occasion the loudness of the mirth prevented Hogan's reply from being
heard. As to violence, nobody that knew the poor pedagogue could ever
dream of using it towards him, and there is little doubt that the
consciousness of this caused him to give his tongue a license when
provoked, which he otherwise would not have dared to venture upon.
When he first made his appearance he was so far advanced in liquor as
scarcely to be able to stand, and it was quite evident that the heat of
the crowded house by no means improved him.
In about a quarter of an hour after Bryan and Kathleen had danced, the
good people of the kemp were honored by the appearance of Hycy Burke
among them--not in his jockey dress, but in a tight-fitting suit, that
set off his exceedingly well-made person to great advantage. In
fact, Hycy was a young fellow of a remarkably handsome face, full
of liveliness and apparent good humor, and a figure that was nearly
perfect. He addressed the persons present with an air of easy
condescension, and went over immediately and shook hands, in a very
cordial manner, with Gerald Cavanagh and his wife, after which he turned
round and bowed to the daughters. He then addressed Bryan, beside whom
Kathleen was sitting.
“Bryan,” said he, “there will be mistakes in the best of families. I
hate enmity. How, do you do?”
Bryan nodded, and replied, “Pretty well, Hycy--how are you?”
Cavanagh and his wife were evidently quite delighted to see him; the
good man rose and made him take his own seat, and Mrs. Cavanagh paid him
every conceivable mark of attention.
“Mrs. Cavanagh,” said he, after some chat, “may I be permitted to
indulge in the felicity of a dance with Miss Cavanagh?”
“Which of them?” asked the mother, and then added, without waiting for a
reply--“to be sure you may.”
“The felicity of a dance! that was well expressed, Mr. Hycy; but it
was not for nothing that you broke grammatical ground under Patricius
Finigan--ah, no; the early indoctrinations will tell;--that is clear.”
“I mean Miss Kathleen,” replied Hycy, without paying any attention to
Finigan's observations.
“Why not?” exclaimed both; “of course you will--go over and bring her
out.”
Hycy, approaching her, said, in his blandest and most persuasive manner,
“Miss Cavanagh, will you allow me the gratification of dancing a reel
with you?”
“I'm obliged to you, Mr. Burke,” she replied gravely; “I have just
danced a reel with Bryan M'Mahon here, and I don't intend to dance any
more to-night.”
“A simple reel?” said Hycy; “perhaps you will so far favor me? I shall
consider it as a favor, I assure you.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Burke, but I won't dance any more to-night.”
“That's hard,” he replied, “especially as I came all the way to have
that pleasure. Perhaps you will change your mind, Miss Cavanagh?”
“I'm not in the habit of changing my mind, Mr. Burke,” she replied, “and
I don't see any reason why I should do so now. I say once for all that I
won't dance any more to-night.”
“What is it,” asked the mother, on perceiving her hesitation; “won't she
dance wid you? Hut, tut, Kathleen, what nonsense is this? To be sure you
must dance wid Mr. Burke; don't take any refusal, Mr. Burke--is that all
you know about girls.--sure nineteen refusals is aquil to one consent.
Go over, Gerald, and make her dance wid him,” she added, turning to her
husband.
“What's the matter, Kathleen, that you won't dance wid Mr. Hycy?” asked
the good man.
“Because I have danced all I will dance to-night, father.”
“Tut, nonsense, you foolish girl--it's proud you ought to be that he'd
ax you. Get up and dance a reel wid him.”
Hanna, who knew her sister's resolution when once formed, immediately
came to her rescue. “Don't ask her, father,” she said; “the truth is,
that I believe she has a headache--however, I'll take her place--have
you any objection to me, Mr. Burke?”
None in the world--he would be very happy--only he regretted that he
could not have that pleasure also with his sister.
“Ah, Mr. Hycy--which is properly Hyacinthus,” said Finigan; “I am able
to perceive that Cupid declines to be propitious in that quarter, or
perhaps it's the _irae amantium_,---which is, on being rendered into
vernacularity, a falling out of lovers; and if so, do not despair; for
as certain as it is, it will be followed by that most delectable of
processes, the _redintegratio amoris_, or the renewing of love. In fact,
he is a little better than a tyro--an ignoramus, who doesn't quarrel at
least once a week, wid the fair object of his amorous inclinations, an'
that for the sake of the reconciliaitons.”
Hycy and Hanna were now about to dance, when Philip Hogan came forward,
and, with an oath, declared that Kathleen must dance--“He wouldn't see
Mr. Burke insulted that way by any such airs--and by--she must dance.
Come,” said he, “what stuff is this--we'll see whether you or I is
strongest;” and as he spoke he seized her rudely by the arm, and was
about to pull her out on the floor.
Bryan M'Mahon sprung to his feet. “Let her go, you ruffian,” he
exclaimed; “let her go this instant.”
“No, I won't,” replied the savage; “an' not for you, at any rate. Come,
Miss Kathleen, out you'll go:--for you indeed,” he added, in a ferocious
parenthesis, looking at Bryan; “it's you that's the cause of all this.
Come, miss, dance you must.”
The words were scarcely uttered when M'Mahon, by a single blow on the
neck, felled him like an ox, and in an instant the whole place was a
scene of wild commotion. The Hogans, however, at all times unpopular,
had no chance in an open affray on such an occasion as this. The feeling
that predominated was, that the ruffianly interference of Philip had
been justly punished; and ere many minutes the usual harmony, with the
exception of some threatening looks and ferocious under growls from the
Hogans, was restored. Hycy and Hanna then went on with their dance, and
when it was over, the schoolmaster rose to depart.
“Mr. Burke,” said he, “you are and have the reputation of being a
perfect gentleman _homo factus ad unguem_--as has been said by the
learned little Roman, who, between you and me, was not overburthened
with an excess of morality. I take the liberty, jinteels, of wishing you
a good-night--_precor vobia prosperam noctem!_ Ah, I can do it yet; but
it wasn't for nothing that I practised the peripatetics in larned Kerry,
where the great O'Finigan is not yet forgotten. I shall now seek a
contiguous place of repose, until the consequences of some slight
bacchanalin libations on my part shall have dispersed themselves into
thin air.”
He accordingly departed, but from the unsteadiness of his step it was
clear that, as he said, the place of his repose must be contiguous
indeed. Had he been conscious of his own motions it is not likely he
would have sought for repose in Cavanagh's kiln, then the habitation of
the Hogans. It was probably the fact of the door having been left open,
which was generally the case in summer, that induced him to enter--for
enter he did--ignorant, it is to be presumed, that the dwelling he
was about to enter was then inhabited by the Hogans, whom he very much
disrelished.
The place was nearly waste, and had a very desolate look. Scattered
around, and littered upon shake-down beds of straw, some half dozen
young besmutted savages, male and female, lay stretched in all
positions, some north, others south, without order or decency, but all
seeming in that barbarous luxury which denotes strong animal health and
an utter disregard of cleanliness and bodily comfort. Over in one of the
corners lay three or four budgets, old iron skillets, hammers, lumps of
melted lead, broken pots, a quantity of cows' horns for spoons, wooden
dishes that required clasping, old kettles that wanted repair, a couple
of cast off Poteen Stills, and a new one half made--all of which were
visible by the light of a large log of bog-fir which lay burning in the
fire-place. On looking around him, he descended a flight of stone steps
that led to the fireplace or the kiln or opening in which the fuel used
to dry the grain was always burned. This corner, which was eight or ten
feet below the other portion of the floor, being, in general, during the
summer months filled with straw, received the drowsy pedagogue, who, in
a few minutes, was as sound asleep as any of them about him.
Hycy, who was conscious of his good figure, danced two or three times
afterwards.
Dora M'Mahon had the honor of being his partner, as had one or two of
the best looking girls present. At the close of the last dance he looked
significantly at the Hogans, and nodded towards the door; after which it
might have been observed, that they slunk out one at a time, followed in
a few minutes by Kate Hycy, after some further chat with Gerald Cavanagh
and his wife, threw half a crown to Mickey M'Grory, and in his usual
courteous phraseology, through which there always ran, by the way, a vein
of strong irony, he politely wished them all a good night.