--Ahadarra not in for it--Bryan's Vote.
Honest Jemmy Burke, we have already said, had brought home his
second son, Edward, from school, for the purpose of training him to
agricultural pursuits, having now abandoned all notions of devoting him
to the Church, as he would have done had Hycy manifested towards him
even the ordinary proofs of affection and respect.
“You druv me to it, Rosha,” said he to his wife; “but I'll let you both
know that I'm able to be masther in my own house still. You have made
your pet what he is; but I tell you that if God hasn't said it, you'll
curse one another with bitther hearts yet.”
“Well, sure you have your own way,” replied his wife, “but you wor ever
and always self-willed and headstrong. However, it's all the mane blood
that's in you; it breaks your heart to see your son a gintleman; but in
spite of your strong brogues and felt caubeen, a gentleman he is, and
a gentleman he will be, an' that's all I have to say about it. You'll
tache your pet to hate his brother, I'll go bail.”
“No, indeed, Rosha,” he replied, “I know my duty to God and my childre'
betther than to turn them against one another; but it's only a proof of
how little you know about Edward and his warm and lovin' heart, when you
spake as you do.”
This indeed was true. Edward Burke was but a short time at home when he
saw clearly how matters stood in the family. He was in fact a youth of a
most affectionate and generous disposition, and instead of attempting to
make the breach wider, as Hycy had he been in his place would have done,
he did everything in his power to put the parties into a good state
of feeling with each other, and to preserve peace and harmony in the
family.
One morning, a few days after Hycy's rejection by Miss Clinton, they
were all at breakfast, “the accomplished” being in one of his musical
and polite moods, his father bland but sarcastic, and Edward in a state
of actual pain on witnessing the wilful disrespect or rather contempt
that was implied by Hycy towards his parents. “Well, Ned,” said his
father, “didn't we spend a pleasant evenin' in Gerald Cavanagh's last
night? Isn't Kathleen a darlin'?”
“She is a delightful girl,” replied Edward, “it can't be denied; indeed,
I don't think I ever saw so beautiful a girl, and as for her figure, it
is perfect--perfect.”
“Ay,” said the father, “and it's she that knows the difference between a
decent sensible boy and a--gintleman--a highflyer. She was both kind and
civil to you, Ned.”
“I don't know as to the kindness,” replied Edward; “but she was
certainly civil and agreeable, and I don't think it's in her nature to
be anything else.”
“Except when she ought,” said his father; “but listen, Ned--dress
yourself up, get a buff waistcoat, a green jockey coat, a riding whip,
and a pair o' shinin' top-boots, titivate yourself up like a dandy, then
go to her wid lavendher water on your pocket-handkerchy, an' you'll see
how she'll settle you. Be my sowl, you'll be the happy boy when you get
her; don't you think so, Misther Hycy?”
“Unquestionably, Mr. Burke, when you speak you shame an Oracle; as for
Master Ned--why--
“'I'm owre young,--I'm owre young,
I'm owre young to marry yet,
I'm owre young, 'twould be a sin
To take me from my Daddy yet.'
I think, Master Edward, the Boy-god has already taken occupation;
the vituline affection for the fair Katsey has set in; heigho, what a
delightful period of life is that soft and lickful one of calf love,
when the tongue rolls about the dripping lips, the whites of the eyes
are turned towards the divine, the ox-eyed Katsey, and you are ready to
stagger over and blare out the otherwise unutterable affection.”
“Very well described, Hycy, I see you have not forgotten your Homer
yet; but really Kathleen Cavanagh is a perfect Juno, and has the large,
liquid, soft ox-eye in perfection.”
“Let me look at you,” said Hycy, turning round and staring at him with
a good deal of surprise; “begad, brother Ned, let me ask where you got
your connoisseurship upon women? eh? Oh, in the dictionary, I suppose,
where the common people say everything is to be found. Observe me, Mr.
Burke, you are taking your worthy son out of his proper vocation, the
Church. Send him to 'Maynewth,' he is too good a connoisseur on beauty
to be out of the Tribunal.”
“Hycy,” replied his brother, “these are sentiments that do you no
credit, it is easy to sneer at religion or those who administer
it,--much easier than to praise the one, it would appear, or imitate the
virtues of the other.”
“Beautiful rebuke,” said Hycy, again staring at him; “why, Masther
Edward, you are a prodigy of wonderful sense and unspotted virtue; love
has made you eloquent--“'I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,
A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue,
I gat my death frae twa sweet e'en,
Twa lovely e'en o' bonnie blue, &c, &c.'”
“I am not in love yet, Hycy, but as my father wishes to bring about a
marriage between Kathleen and myself, you know,” he added, smiling, “it
will be my duty to fall in love with her as fast as I can.”
“Dutiful youth! what a treasure you will prove to a dignified and
gentlemanly parent,--to a fond and doting wife! Shall I however put
forth my powers? Shall Hycy the accomplished interpose between Juno and
the calf? What sayest thou, my most amiable maternal relative, and why
sittest thou so silent and so sad?”
“Indeed, it's no wondher I would, Hycy,” replied his mother, whom
Edward's return had cast into complete dejection, “when I see your
father strivin' to put between his own childre'.”
“Me, Rosha!” exclaimed her husband; “God forgive you for that! but when
I see that one of my childre' wont spake a word to me with respect or
civility--no, not even in his natural voice, it is surely time for ma to
try if I can't find affection in his brother.”
“Ay,” said she, “that's your own way of it; but it's easy seen that your
eggin' up Ned agin his brother, bringin' ill will and bad feelin' among
a family that was quiet before; ay, an' I suppose you'd be glad to see
my heart broke too, and indeed I didn't care it was,” and as she spoke
the words? were accompanied by sobbings and tears.
“Alas!” said Hyoy, still in the mock heroic--“where is the pride and
dignity of woman? Remember, oh maternal relative, that you are the
mother of one Gracchus at least! Scorn the hydraulics, I say; abandon
the pathetic; cast sorrow to the winds, and--give me another cup of
tea.”
Edward shook his head at him, as if remonstrating against this most
undutiful and contemptuous style of conversation to his mother. “Don't
give way to tears, my dear mother,” he said; “indeed you do my father
injustice; he has neither said nor done anything to turn me against
Hycy. Why should he? So far from that, I know that he loves Hycy at
heart, all that he wishes is that Hycy would speak to him in his natural
voice, and treat him with respect, and the feeling that surely is due
to him. And so Hycy will, father; I am sure he respects and loves you in
spite of this levity and affectation. All we want is for each to give
up a little of his own way--when you become more respectful, Hycy, my
father's manner will change too: let us be at least sincere and natural
with each other, and there is nothing that I can see to prevent us from
living very happily.”
“I have some money saved,” said Burke, turning to his wife--“a good
penny--too, more than the world thinks; and I declare to my God I would
give it twice over if I could hear that young man,” pointing to Hycy,
“speak these words with the same heart and feelings of him that spoke
them; but I fear that 'ud be a hopeless wish on my part, an' ever will.”
“No, father,” said Edward, “it will not--Hycy and you will soon
understand one another. Hycy will see what, his duty towards you is,
and, sooner than be the means of grieving your heart, he will change the
foolish and thoughtless habit that offends you.”
“Well, Edward, may God grant it,” exclaimed his father rising up from
breakfast, “and that's all I have to say----God grant it!”
“Why, Sir Oracle, junior,” said Hycy, after his father had gone out, “or
rather Solomon Secundus, if you are now an unfledged philosopher on our
hand, what will you not be when your opinions are grown?”
“My dear brother,” replied Edward, I cannot see what on earth you can
propose to yourself by adopting this ridiculous style of conversation
I cannot really see any object you can have in it. If it be to vex or
annoy my father, can you blame him if he feels both vexed and annoyed at
it.
“Most sapiently said, Solomon Secundus--
“'Solomon Lob was a ploughman stout,
And a ranting cavalier;
And, when the civil war broke out,
It quickly did appear
That Solomon Lob was six feet high,
And fit for a grenadier.
So Solomon Lob march'd boldly forth
To sounds of bugle horns
And a weary march had Solomon Lob,
For Solomon Lob had corns.
Row,--ra--ra--row--de--dow.'
“And so I wish you a good morning, most sapient Solomon. I go on
business of importance affecting--the welfare of the nation, or rather
of the empire at large--embracing all these regions, antipodial and
otherwise, on which the sun never sets. Good morning, therefore;
and, maternal relative, wishing the same to thee, with a less copious
exhibition of the hydraulics, a-hem!”
“Where is he going, mother, do you know?” asked Edward.
“Indeed I don't know, Edward,” she replied; “he seldom or never tells
us anything about his motions; but it vexes me to think that his father
won't make any allowance for his lightheartedness and fine spirits. Sure
now, Edward, you know yourself it's not raisonable to have a young man
like him mumpin' and mopin' about, as if there was a wake in the house?”
The only reply Edward made to this weak and foolish speech was, “Yes;
but there is reason in everything, my dear mother. I have heard,” he
added, “that he is working for the Tory candidate, Vanston, and hope it
is not true.”
“Why,” said his mother, “what differ does it make?”
“Why,” replied the other, “that Vanston votes to keep us slaves, and
Chevydale to give us our political freedom: the one is opposed to our
religion and our liberty, and the other votes for both.”
“Troth, as to religion,” observed the mother, “the poor boy doesn't
trouble his head much about it--bat it's not aisy for one that goes
into jinteel society to do so--an' that's what makes Hycy ait mate of a
Friday as fast as on any other day.”
“I am sorry to hear that, mother,” replied Edward; “but Hycy is a very
young man still, and will mend all these matters yet.”
“And that's what I'm tellin' his father,” she replied; “and if you'd
only see the way he looks at me, and puts a _cuir_ (* a grin--mostly
of contempt) upon him so bitther that it would a'most take the skin off
one.”
Edward's observations with respect to Hycy's having taken a part in
forwarding the interests of Major Vanston were not without foundation.
He and Bryan M'Mahon had of late been upon very good terms; and it so
happened that in the course of one of their conversations about Kathleen
Cavanagh, Bryan had mentioned to him the fact of Kathleen's having heard
that he was pledged to vote with Vanston, and repeated the determination
to which she had resolved to come if he should do so. Now, it so
happened, that a portion of this was already well known to Hycy himself,
who, in fact, was the very individual who had assured Major Vanston,
and those who canvassed for him, that he himself had secured Bryan.
On hearing now from Bryan that Kathleen had put the issue of their
affection upon his political truth and consistency he resolved to avail
himself of that circumstance if he could. On hearing, besides, however,
that Harry Clinton had actually sent him (M'Mahon) to Vanston, and on
being told, in the course of conversation, that that gentleman asked who
had drawn up the memorial, he felt that every circumstance was turning
in his favor; for he determined now to saddle Clinton with the odium
which, in this treacherous transaction, was most likely to fall upon
himself.
It is not our intention here to describe the brutal and disgraceful
scenes that occur at an election. It is enough to say that, after a
long, bitter, and tedious struggle, the last day of it arrived. Bryan
M'Mahon, having fully satisfied himself that his landlord had not taken
a single step to promote his interests in the matter of the memorial,
resolved from the beginning not to vote in his favor, and, of course,
not to vote at all.
On the morning of the last day, with the exception of himself alone,
a single voter had not been left unpolled; and the position of the two
candidates was very peculiar, both having polled exactly the same number
of votes, and both being consequently equal.
Bryan, having left home early, was at breakfast about eleven o'clock, in
a little recess off the bar of the head-inn, which was divided from
one end of the coffee-room by a thin partition of boards, through which
anything spoken in an ordinary tone of voice in that portion of the
room could be distinctly heard. Our readers may judge of his surprise
on hearing the following short but pithy dialogue of which he himself
formed the subject matter. The speakers, with whom were assembled
several of his landlord's committee, being no other than that worthy
gentleman and his agent.
“What's to be done?” asked Chevydale; “here is what we call a dead heat.
Can no one prevail on that obstinate scoundrel, the Ahadarra man--what
do ye call, him? M'Master--M'Manus---M'--eh?”
“M'Mahon,” replied Fethertonge, “I fear not; but, at all events, we
must try him again. Vote or not, however, we shall soon clear him out of
Ahadarra--we shall punish his insolence for daring to withhold his
vote; for, as sure as my name is Fethertonge, out he goes. The fine and
distillation affair, however, will save us a good deal of trouble, and
of course I am very glad you declined to have anything to do with the
support of his petition. The fellow is nothing else than shuffler, as I
told you. Vote or not, therefore, out of Ahadarra he goes; and, when he
does, I have a good tenant to put in his place.”
M'Mahon's blood boiled on hearing this language, and he inwardly swore
that, let the consequences be what they might, a vote of his should
never go to the support of such a man.
Again we return to Hycy Burke, who, when the day of the great struggle
arrived, rode after breakfast on that same morning into Ballymacan, and
inquired at the post-office if there were any letters for him.
“No,” replied the postmaster; “but, if you see Bryan M'Mahon, tell him
I have here one for him, from Major Vanston--it's his frank and his
handwriting.”
“I'm going directly to him,” said Hycy, “and will bring it to him; so
you had better hand it here.”
The postmaster gave him the letter, and in a few minutes Hycy was on his
way home with as much speed as his horse was capable of making.
“Nanny,” said he, calling upon Nanny Peety, when he had put his horse in
the stable and entered the parlor, “will you fetch me a candle and some
warm water?”
“Yes, sir,” said Nanny; “but you must wait till I boil some, for there's
none hot.”
“Be quick, then,” said he, “for I'm in a devil of a hurry. Shut the door
after you, I say. What is the reason that you never do so, often as I
have spoken to you about it?”
“Becaise it's never done,” she replied; “nobody ever bids me shut it but
yourself, an' that's what makes me forget it.”
“Well, I'll thank you,” he said, “to pay more attention to what I say
to you I have reason to think you both intrusive and ungrateful, Nanny;
and, mark, unless you show me somewhat more submission, madam, you shall
pitch your camp elsewhere. It was I brought you here.”
“Ax your own conscience why, Mr. Hycy.”
“Begone now and get me the hot water,” he said, with a frown of anger
and vexation, heightened probably by the state of agitation into which
the possession of Vanston's letter had already put him.
We shall not follow him through all the ingenious and dishonorable
manoeuvres by which he got the communication safely open-ed; it is
enough to say that, in the course of a few minutes, he was enabled to
peruse the contents of Vanston's communication, which were as follows:--
Sir,--I beg to enclose you a letter which I received yesterday from the
Secretary to the Board of Excise, and to assure you that I feel much
pleasure in congratulating you upon its contents, and the satisfactory
result of your memorial.
“I am, sir, very sincerely yours,
“Egbert Vanston.
“To Mr. Bryan M'Mahon,
“Ahadarra.”
(The enclosed.)
“Sir,--I have had the honor of reading your communication in favor of
Bryan M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, and of submitting that and his own memorial
to the Commissioners of Excise, who, after maturely weighing the
circumstances, and taking into consideration the excellent character
which memoralist has received at your hands, have been pleased to reduce
the fine originally imposed upon him to the sum of fifty pounds. The
Commissioners are satisfied that memorialist, having been in no way
connected with the illicit distillation which was carried on upon his
property, is not morally liable to pay the penalty; but, as they have
not the power of wholly remitting it they have reduced it as far the law
has given them authority.
“I have the honor to be, sir, your faithful and obedient servant,
“Francis Fathom.
“To Major Vanston, &c, &c.”
Hycy, having perused these documents, re-sealed them in such a manner as
to evade all suspicion of their having been opened.
“Now,” thought he, “what is to be done? Upon the strength of this, it is
possible I may succeed in working up M'Mahon to vote for Vanston; for
I know into what an enthusiasm of gratitude the generous fool will be
thrown by them. If he votes for Vanston, I gain several points. First
and foremost, the round some of three hundred. If I can get his vote, I
establish my own veracity, which, as matters stand, will secure
Vanston the election; I, also, having already secretly assured the Tory
gentleman that I could secure him, or rather, I can turn my lie into
truth, and make Vanston my friend. Secondly, knowing as I do, that it
was by Harry Clinton's advice the clod-hopper went to him, I can shift
the odium of his voting for Vanston upon that youth's shoulders, whose
body, by the way, does not contain a single bone that I like; and,
thirdly, having by his apostacy and treachery, as it will be called,
placed an insurmountable barrier between himself and the divine
Katsey, I will change my course with Jemmy, the gentleman--my sarcastic
dad--return and get reconciled with that whelp of a brother of mine, and
by becoming a good Christian, and a better Catholic, I have no doubt
but I shall secure the 'Ox-eyed,' as I very happily named her the other
morning. This, I think, will be making the most of the cards, and, as
the moment is critical, I shall seek the clod-hopper and place this
seasonable communication in his hands.”
He accordingly rode rapidly into town again, where he had not been many
minutes when he met M'Mahon, burning with indignation at the language of
his landlord and the agent.
“I cannot have patience, Hycy,” he exclaimed, “under such scoundrelly
language as this; and while I have breath in my body, he never shall
have my vote!”
“What's the matter, Bryan?” he asked; “you seem flushed.”
“I do, Hycy, because I am flushed, and not without reason. I tell you
that my landlord, Chevydale, is a scoundrel, and Fethertonge a deceitful
villain.”
“Pooh, man, is that by way of information? I thought you had something
in the shape of novelty to tell me. What has happened, however, and why
are you in such a white heat of indignation?”
M'Mahon immediately detailed the conversation which he had overheard
behind the bar of the inn, and we need scarcely assure our readers that
Hycy did not omit the opportunity of throwing oil upon the fire which
blazed so strongly.
“Bryan,” said he, “I know the agent to be a scoundrel, and what is
nearer the case still, I have every reason--but you must not ask me to
state them yet,--I have every reason to suspect that it is Fethertonge,
countenanced by Chevydale, who is at the bottom of the distillation
affair that has ruined you. The fact is, they are anxious to get you out
of Ahadarra, and thought that by secretly ruining you, they could most
plausibly effect it.”
“I have now no earthly doubt of it, Hycy,” replied the other.
“You need not,” replied Hycy; “and maybe I'm not far astray when I say,
that the hook-nosed old Still-hound, Clinton, is not a thousand miles
from the plot. I could name others connected with some of them--but I
wont, now.”
When M'Mahon recollected the conversation which both Clinton and the
agent had held with him, with respect to violating the law, the truth
of Hycy's remark flashed upon him at once, and of course deepened his
indignation almost beyond endurance.
“They are two d--d scoundrels,” pursued Hycy, “and I have reasons,
besides, for suspecting that it was their wish, if they could have done
it successfully, to have directed your suspicions against myself.”
M'Mahon was, in fact, already convinced of this, and felt satisfied
that he saw through and understood the whole design against him, and was
perfectly aware of those who had brought him to ruin.
“By the way,” said Hycy, “let me not forget that I have been looking for
you this hour or two; here is a letter I got for you in! the
post-office this morning. It has Vanston's frank, and I think is in his
handwriting.”
M'Mahon's face, on perusing the letter, beamed with animation and
delight. “Here, Hycy,” said he, “read that; I'm safe yet, thank God, and
not a ruined man, as the villains thought to make me.”
“By my soul and honor, Bryan,” exclaimed the other, “that is noble on
the part of Vanston, especially towards an individual from whom, as
well as from his whole family, he has ever experienced the strongest
opposition. However, if I were in your coat, I certainly would not
suffer him to outdo me in generosity. Good heavens! only contrast such
conduct with that of the other scoundrel, his opponent, and then see the
conclusion you must come to.”
“Let Vanston be what he may, he's an honest man,” replied Bryan, “and
in less than ten minutes I'll have him the sittin' member. I would be
ungrateful and ungenerous, as you say, Hycy, not to do so. Come
along--come along, I bid you. I don't care what they say. The man that
saved me--who was his enemy--from ruin, will have my vote.”
They accordingly proceeded towards the court house, and on their way
Hycy addressed him as follows:--“Now, Bryan, in order to give your
conduct an appearance of greater generosity, I will pretend to dissuade
you against voting for Vanston, or, rather, I will endeavor, as it were,
to get your vote for Chevydale. This will make the act more manly and
determined on your part, and consequently one much more high-minded and
creditable to your reputation. You will show them, besides, that you are
not the cowardly slave of your landlord.”
It was accordingly so managed; the enthusiastic gratitude of the young
man overcame all considerations; and in a few minutes Major Vanston was
declared by the sheriff duly elected, by a majority of one vote only.
It is no part of our intention to describe the fierce sensation which
this victory created among the greater portion of the people. The tumult
occasioned by their indignation and fury was outrageous and ruffianly as
usual; but as the election had now terminated, it soon ceased, and the
mobs began to disperse to their respective homes. Bryan for some three
hours or so was under the protection of the military, otherwise he would
have been literally torn limb from limb. In the mean time we must follow
Hycy.
This worthy and straightforward young gentleman, having now accomplished
his purpose, and been the means of M'Mahon having exposed himself to
popular vengeance, took the first opportunity of withdrawing from him
secretly, and seeking Vanston's agent. Having found him, and retired out
of hearing, he simply said--
“I will trouble you for three hundred.”
“You shall have it,” replied that honest gentleman; “you shall have it.
We fully acknowledge the value of your services in this matter; it is to
them we owe our return.”
“There is no doubt in the matter,” replied Hycy; “but you know not my
difficulty, nor the dexterous card I had to play in accomplishing my
point.”
“We are sensible of it all,” replied the other; “here,” said he, pulling
out his pocket-book, “are three notes for one hundred each.”
“Give me two fifties,” said Hycy, “instead of this third note, and you
will oblige me. By the way, here is the major.” With this the other
immediately complied, without the major having been in any way cognizant
of the transaction.
On entering the inner room where they stood, Vanston shook hands most
cordially with Hycy, and thanked him in very warm language for the part
he took, to which he had no hesitation in saying he owed his return.
“Look upon me henceforth as a friend, Mr. Burke,” he added, “and a
sincere one, who will not forget the value of your influence with the
young man whose vote has gained me the election. I have already served
him essentially,--in fact saved him from ruin, and I am very glad of
it.”
“I really feel very much gratified, Major Vanston, that I have had it in
my power,” replied Hycy, “to render you any service of importance; and
if I ever should stand in need of a favor at your hands, I shall not
hesitate to ask it.”
“Nor I to grant it, Mr. Burke, if it be within the reach of my
influence.”
“In the mean time,” said Hycy, “will you oblige me with a single franc?”
“Certainly, Mr. Burke; with half a dozen of them.”
“Thank you, sir, one will be quite sufficient; I require no more.”
The major, however, gave him half a dozen of them, and after some
further chat, and many expressions of obligation on the part of the new
M.P., Hycy withdrew.