"Castle Rackrent" was published anonymously in 1800. It was
not only the first of Miss Edgeworth's novels,--it is in many
respects her best work. Later came "The Absentee," "Belinda,"
"Helen," the "Tales of Fashionable Life," and the "Moral
Tales." Sir Walter Scott wrote that reading these stories of
Irish peasant life made him feel "that something might be
tempted for my own country of the same kind as that which Miss
Edgeworth so fortunately achieved for Ireland," something that
would procure for his own countrymen "sympathy for their
virtues and indulgence for their foibles." As a study of Irish
fidelity in the person of Old Thady, the steward who tells the
story of "Castle Rackrent," the book is a masterpiece.
_I.--Sir Patrick and Sir Murtagh_
Having, out of friendship for the family, undertaken to publish the
memoirs of the Rackrent family, I think it my duty to say a few words
concerning myself first. My real name is Thady Quirk, though in the
family I've always been known as "Honest Thady"; afterwards, I remember
to hear them calling me "Old Thady," and now I've come to "Poor Thady."
To look at me you would hardly think poor Thady was the father of
Attorney Quirk; he is a high gentleman, and having better than fifteen
hundred a year, landed estate, looks down upon honest Thady. But I wash
my hands of his doings, and as I lived so will I die, true and loyal to
the family.
I ought to bless that day when Sir Tallyhoo Rackrent lost a fine hunter
and his life, all in one day's hunt, for the estate came straight into
_the_ family, upon one condition, that Sir Patrick O'Shaughlin (whose
driver my grandfather was) should, by Act of Parliament, take the
surname and arms of Rackrent.
Now it was the world could see what was in Sir Patrick. He gave the
finest entertainments ever was heard of in the country; not a man could
stand after supper but Sir Patrick himself. He had his house, from one
year's end to another, as full of company as it would hold; and this
went on, I can't tell you how long.
But one year, on his birthday, just as the company rose to drink his
health, he fell down in a sort of fit, and in the morning it was all
over with poor Sir Patrick.
Never did any gentleman die more beloved by rich and poor. All the
gentlemen in the three counties came to his funeral; and happy the man
who could get but a sight of the hearse!
Just as they were passing through his own town the body was seized for
debt! Little gain had the creditors!
First and foremost, they had the curses of the country, and Sir Murtagh,
the new heir, refused to pay a shilling on account of the insult to his
father's body; in which he was countenanced by all the gentlemen of
property of his acquaintance. He did not take at all after the old
gentleman. The cellars were never filled, and no open house; even the
tenants were sent away without their whiskey. I was ashamed myself, but
put it all down to my lady; she was of the family of the Skinflints. I
must say, she made the best of wives, being a notable, stirring woman,
and looking close to everything. 'Tis surprising how cheap my lady got
things done! What with fear of driving for rent, and Sir Murtagh's
lawsuits, the tenants were kept in such good order they never came near
Castle Rackrent without a present of something or other--nothing too
much or too little for my lady. And Sir Murtagh taught 'em all, as he
said, the law of landlord and tenant. No man ever loved the law as he
did.
Out of the forty-nine suits he had, he never lost one, but seventeen.
Though he and my lady were much of a mind in most things, there was a
deal of sparring and jarring between them. In a dispute about an
abatement one day, my lady would have the last word, and Sir Murtagh
grew mad. I was within hearing--he spoke so loud, all the kitchen was
out on the stairs. All on a sudden he stopped, and my lady, too. Sir
Murtagh, in his passion, had broken a blood-vessel. My lady sent for
five physicians; but Sir Murtagh died. She had a fine jointure settled
upon her, and took herself away, to the great joy of the tenantry.
_II.--Sir Kit and his Wife_
Then the house was all hurry-scurry, preparing for my new master, Sir
Murtagh's younger brother, a dashing young officer. He came before I
knew where I was, with another spark with him, and horses and dogs, and
servants, and harum-scarum called for everything, as if he were in a
public-house. I walk slow, and hate a bustle, and if it had not been for
my pipe and tobacco, should, I verily believe, have broke my heart for
poor Sir Murtagh.
But one morning my new master caught sight of me. "And is that Old
Thady?" says he. I loved him from that day to this, his voice was so
like the family, and I never saw a finer figure of a man.
A fine life we should have led had he stayed among us, God bless him!
But, the sporting season over, he grew tired of the place, and was off
in a whirlwind to town. A circular letter came next post from the new
agent to say he must remit £500 to the master at Bath within a
fortnight--bad news for the poor tenants. Sir Kit Rackrent, my new
master, left it all to the agent, and now not a week without a call for
money. Rents must be paid to the day, and afore--old tenants turned out,
anything for the ready penny.
The agent was always very civil to me, and took a deal of notice of my
son Jason, who, though he be my son, was a good scholar from his birth,
and a very cute lad. Seeing he was a good clerk, the agent gave him the
rent accounts to copy, which he did for nothing at first, being always
proud to serve the family.
By-and-by, a good farm fell vacant, and my son put in a proposal for it.
Why not? The master, knowing no more of the land than a child unborn,
wrote over, leaving it to the agent, and he must send over £200 by
return post. So my son's proposal was just the thing, and he a good
tenant, and he got a promise of abatement after the first year for
advancing the half-year's rent to make up the £200, and my master was
satisfied. The agent told us then, as a great secret, that Sir Kit was a
little too fond of play.
At last, at Christmas, the agent wrote he could raise no more money,
anyhow, and desired to resign the agency. My son, Jason, who had
corresponded privately with Sir Kit, was requested to take over the
accounts forthwith. His honour also condescended to tell us he was going
to be married in a fortnight to the grandest heiress in England, and had
immediate occasion for £200 for travelling expenses home to Castle
Rackrent, where he intended to be early next month. We soon saw his
marriage in the paper, and news came of him and his bride being in
Dublin on their way home. We had bonfires all over the country,
expecting them all day, and were just thinking of giving them up for the
night, when the carriage came thundering up. I got the first sight of
the bride, and greatly shocked I was, for she was little better than a
blackamoor. "You're kindly welcome, my lady," I says; but neither spoke
a word, nor did he so much as hand her up the steps.
I concluded she could not speak English, and was from foreign parts, so
I left her to herself, and went down to the servants' hall to learn
something about her. Sir Kit's own man told us, at last, that she might
well be a great fortune, for she was a Jewess, by all accounts. I had
never seen any of that tribe before, and could only gather that she
could not abide pork nor sausages, and went neither to church nor mass.
"Mercy upon his honour's poor soul," thought I. But when, after this,
strange gentleman's servants came and began to talk about the bride, I
took care to put the best foot foremost, and passed her for a nabob.
I saw plain enough, next morning, how things were between Sir Kit and
his lady, though they went arm-in-arm to look at the building.
"Old Thady, how do you do?" says my master, just as he used to do, but I
could see he was not well pleased, and my heart was in my mouth as I
walked after them.
There were no balls, no dinners, no doings. Sir Kit's gentleman told me
it was all my lady's fault, because she was so obstinate about the
cross.
"What cross?" says I. "Is it about her being a heretic?"
"Oh, no such matter," says he. "My master does not mind about her
heresies, but her diamond cross. She's thousands of English pounds
concealed in her diamonds, which she as good as promised to give to my
master before they married; but now she won't part with any of them, and
must take the consequences."
One morning, his honour says to me, "Thady, buy me a pig," and that was
the first breaking out of my lady's troubles when the sausages were
ordered. My lady went down to the kitchen herself, and desired never
more to see them on her table. The cook took her part, but the master
made it a principle to have the sausages; so, for fear of her place, she
gave in, and from that day forward, always sausages or pig-meat in one
form or other went up to table; upon which my lady shut herself up in
her own room, and my master turned the key in the door, and kept it ever
after in his pocket. We none of us saw her, or heard her speak for seven
years after; he carried her dinner in himself.
Then his honour had a deal of company, and was as gay and gallant as
before he was married. The country, to be sure, talked and wondered, but
nobody cared to ask impertinent questions, my master being a famous
shot. His character was so well known that he lived in peace and quiet
ever after, and was a great favourite with the ladies; so that, when he
gave out that my lady was now skin and bone, and could not live through
the winter, there were no less than three ladies at daggers drawn, as
his gentleman swore, at the balls, for Sir Kit for their partner. I
could not but think them bewitched, but it was not known how my lady's
fortune was settled, nor how the estate was all mortgaged, and bonds out
against him, for he was never cured of his gaming tricks; but that was
the only fault he had, God bless him!
Then it was given out, by mistake, that my lady was dead, and the three
ladies showed their brothers Sir Kit's letters, and claimed his
promises. His honour said he was willing to meet any man who questioned
his conduct, and the ladies must settle among themselves who was to be
his second, while his first was alive, to his mortification and theirs.
He met the first lady's brother, and shot him; next day called out the
second, whose wooden leg stuck fast in the ploughed land, so Sir Kit,
with great candour, fired over his head, whereupon they shook hands
cordially, and went home together to dinner.
To establish his sister's reputation this gentleman went out as Sir
Kit's second next day, when he met the last of his adversaries. He had
just hit the toothpick out of his enemy's hand, when he received a ball
in a vital part, and was brought home speechless in a hand-barrow. We
got the key out of his pocket at once, and my son Jason ran to release
her ladyship. She would not believe but that it was some new trick till
she saw the men bringing Sir Kit up the avenue. There was no life in
him, and he was "waked" the same night.
The country was all in an uproar about him, and his murderer would have
been hanged surely, but he prudently withdrew to the Continent.
My lady got surprisingly well, and no sooner was it known that Sir Kit
was dead than all the country came round in a body, as it were, to set
her free. But she had taken an unaccountable prejudice against the
country, and was not easy, but when she was packing up to leave us, I
considered her quite as a foreigner, and no longer part of the family.
Her diamond cross was at the bottom of it all; and it was a shame for
her, being his wife, not to have given it up to him when he condescended
to ask for it so often, especially when he made it no secret he had
married her for her money.
_III.--Sir Condy_
The new heir, Sir Conolly, commonly called Sir Condy, was the most
universally beloved man I ever saw or heard of. He was ever my white-
headed boy, when he used to live in a small but slated house at the end
of the avenue, before he went to college. He had little fortune of his
own, and a deal of money was spent on his education. Many of the tenants
secretly advanced him cash upon his promising bargains of leases, and
lawful interest should he ever come into the estate. So that when he did
succeed, he could not command a penny of his first year's income. My son
Jason, who was now agent, explained matters to Sir Condy, who, not
willing to take his affairs in his own hands, or even to look them in
the face, gave my son a bargain of some acres at a reasonable rent to
pay him for his many years' service in the family gratis.
There was a hunting-lodge convenient to my son's land that he had his
eye upon, but Sir Condy talked of letting it to his friend Captain
Moneygawl, with whom he had become very friendly, and whose sister, Miss
Isabella, fell over head and ears in love with my master the first time
he went there to dinner.
But Sir Condy was at a terrible nonplus, for he had no liking for Miss
Isabella. To his mind, little Judy McQuirk, daughter to a sister's son
of mine, was worth twenty of her. But her father had locked her in her
room and forbidden her to think of him, which raised his spirit; and I
could see him growing more and more in the mind to carry Miss Isabella
off to Scotland, as she desired. And I had wished her joy, a week after,
on her return with my poor master. Lucky for her she had a few thousands
of her own, for her father would not give her a farthing. My master and
my lady set out in great style, and it was reported that her father had
undertaken to pay all Sir Condy's debts; and, of course, all the
tradesmen gave him fresh credit, and everything went on smack smooth. I
was proud to see Castle Rackrent again in all its glory. She went on as
if she had a mint of money; and all Sir Condy asked--God bless him!--was
to live in peace and quiet, and have his whiskey punch at night. But my
lady's few thousands could not last for ever. Things in a twelve-month
or so came to such a pass that there was no going on any longer.
Well, my son Jason put in a word about the lodge, and Sir Condy was fain
to take the purchase-money to settle matters, for there were two writs
come down against him to the sheriff, who was no friend of his. Then
there came a general election, and Sir Condy was called upon by all his
friends to stand candidate; they would do all the business, and it
should not cost him a penny.
There was open house then at Castle Rackrent, and grand dinners, and all
the gentlemen drinking success to Sir Condy till they were carried off.
The election day came, and a glorious day it was. I thought I should
have died with joy in the street when I saw my poor master chaired, and
the crowd following him up and down. But a stranger man in the crowd
gets me to introduce him to my son Jason, and little did I guess his
meaning. He gets a list of my master's debts from him, and goes round
and buys them up, and so got to be sole creditor over all, and must
needs have an execution against the master's goods and furniture.
After the election shoals of people came from all parts, claiming to
have obliged him with votes, and to remind him of promises he never
made. Worst of all, the gentlemen who had managed everything and
subscribed by hundreds very genteelly forgot to pay, and it was all left
at my master's door. All he could do to content 'em was to take himself
off to Dublin, where my lady had taken a house fitting for a member of
parliament.
Soon my son Jason said, "Sir Condy must look out for another agent. If
my lady had the Bank of Ireland to spend, it would all go in one
winter."
I could scarcely believe my own old eyes when I saw my son's name joined
in the _custodian_, that the villain who got the list of debts brought
down in the spring; but he said it would make it easier for Sir Condy.
_IV.--The Last of the Rackrents_
When Sir Condy and his lady came down in June, he was pleased to take me
aside to complain of my son and other matters; not one unkind word of my
lady, but he wondered that her relations would do nothing for them in
their great distress. He did not take anything long to heart; let it be
as it might this night, it was all out of his head before he went to
bed. Next morning my lady had a letter from her relations, and asked to
be allowed to go back to them. He fell back as if he was shot, but after
a minute said she had his full consent, for what could she do at Castle
Rackrent with an execution coming down? Next morning she set off for
Mount Juliet.
Then everything was seized by the gripers, my son Jason, to his shame be
it spoken, among them. On the evening Sir Condy had appointed to settle
all, when he sees the sight of bills and loads of papers on the table,
he says to Jason, "Can't you now just sit down here and give me a clear
view of the balance, you know, which is all I need be talking about?
Thady, do just step out, and see they are bringing the things for the
punch." When I came back Jason was pointing to the balance, a terrible
sight for my poor master.
"A--h! Hold your hand!" cries my master. "Where in the wide world am I
to find hundreds, let alone thousands?"
"There's but one way," says Jason. "Sure, can't you sell, though at a
loss? Sure, you can sell, and I've a purchaser ready for you."
"Have you so?" says Sir Condy. Then, colouring up a good deal, he tells
Jason of £500 a year he had settled upon my lady, at which Jason was
indeed mad; but, with much ado, agreed to a compromise. "And how much am
I going to sell? The lands of O'Shaughlin's town, and the lands
of"--just reading to himself--"oh, murder, Jason! Surely you won't put
this in--castle, stables, and appurtenances of Castle Rackrent?"
"Oh, murder!" says I. "This is too bad, Jason."
"Why so?" says Jason. "When it's all mine, and a great deal more, all
lawfully mine, was I to push for it?"
But I took no heed, for I was grieved and sick at heart for my poor
master, and couldn't but speak.
"Here's the punch," says Jason, for the door opened.
So my master starts up in his chair, and Jason uncorks the whiskey.
Well, I was in great hopes when I saw him making the punch, and my
master taking a glass; but Jason put it back when he saw him going to
fill again, saying, "No, Sir Condy; let us settle all before we go
deeper into the punch-bowl. You've only to sign," says Jason, putting
the pen to him.
"Take all, and be content," said my master. So he signed, and the man
who brought the punch witnessed, for I was crying like a child.
So I went out to the street door, and the neighbours' children left
their play to come to see what ailed me; and I told them all. When they
heard Sir Condy was going to leave Castle Rackrent for good and all,
they set up such a whillaluh as brought all their parents round the
doors in great anger against Jason. I was frightened, and went back to
warn my son. He grew quite pale and asked Sir Condy what he'd best do.
"I'll tell you," says Sir Condy, laughing to see his fright. "Finish
your glass first, then let's go to the window, and I'll tell them--or
you shall, if you please--that I'm going to the lodge for change of air
for my health, and by my own desire, for the rest of my days."
"Do so," says Jason, who never meant it to be so, but could not refuse
at such a time.
So the very next day he sets off to the lodge, and I along with him.
There was great bemoaning all through the town, which I stayed to
witness. He was in his bed, and very low, when I got there, and
complained of a great pain about his heart; but I, knowing the nature of
him from a boy, took my pipe and began telling him how he was beloved
and regretted in the country. And it did him a great deal of good to
hear it.
There was a great horn at the lodge that used to belong to the
celebrated Sir Patrick, who was reported to have drunk the full of it
without stopping to draw breath, which no other man, afore or since,
could do.
One night Sir Condy was drinking with the excise-man and the gauger, and
wagered that he could do it. Says he, "Your hand is steadier than mine,
Old Thady; fill you the horn for me." And so, wishing his honour
success, I did. He swallowed it down and dropped like one shot. We put
him to bed, and for five days the fever came and went, and came and
went. On the sixth he says, knowing me very well, "I'm in a burning pain
all withinside of me, Thady." I could not speak. "Brought to this by
drink," says he. "Where are all the friends? Gone, hey? Ay, Sir Condy
has been a fool all his days," said he, and died. He had but a very poor
funeral, after all.
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