MR. O'MAHONY AND HIS DAUGHTER.
We must now turn to another personage in our story, and tell
our readers something of the adventures and conditions of this
gentleman;--something also of his daughter. The adventures of her
early life will occupy much of our time and many of our pages; and
though her father may not be so interesting as it is hoped that she
will become, still he was so peculiar in his modes of thought, and
so honest, though by no means wise, in his manner of thinking, as to
make his story also perhaps worth the telling.
Gerald O'Mahony was at the time of the flooding of Mr. Jones's
meadows not much more than forty years old. But he was already the
father of a daughter nearly twenty. Where he was born, from what
parents, or to what portion of Ireland his family belonged, no one
knew. He himself had been heard to declare a suspicion that his
father had come from County Kerry. But as he himself had been,
according to his own statement, probably born in the United States,
the county to which his father had belonged is not important. He had
been bred up as a Roman Catholic, but had long since thrown over all
the prejudices of his religion. He had married when he was quite
young, and had soon lost his wife. But in talking of her now he
always described her as an angel. But though he looked to be so young
as to be his daughter's brother, rather than her father, he had never
thought of marrying again. His daughter he declared was everything to
him. But those who knew him well said that politics were dearer to
him even than his daughter. Since he had been known in County Galway,
he had passed and repassed nearly a dozen times between New York and
Ireland; and his daughter had twice come with him. He had no declared
means, but he had never been known to borrow a shilling, or to leave
a bill unpaid. But he had frequently said aloud that he had no money
left, and that unless he returned to his own country he and his
daughter must be taken in by some poor-house. For Mr. O'Mahony, fond
as he was of Ireland, allowed no one to say that he was an Irishman.
But his troubles were apparently no troubles to him. He was always
good-humoured, and seemed always to be happy--except when in public,
when he was engaged upon politics. Then he would work himself up
to such a state of indignant anger as seemed to be altogether
antagonistic to good-humour. The position he filled,--or had
filled,--was that of lecturer on behalf of the United States. He had
lectured at Manchester, at Glasgow, at Liverpool, and lately all over
Ireland. But he had risen to such a height of wrath in advocating the
doctrine of Republicanism that he had been stopped by the police. He
had been held to have said things disrespectful of the Queen. This
he loudly denied. He had always, he said, spoken of the Queen's
virtues, her graces, and general fitness for her high office. He had
declared,--and this was true,--that of all kings and queens of whom
he had read in history she was the best. But, he had gone on to say
there should be no king or queen. The practice was an absurdity. The
reverence paid even to the high office was such as, in his idea,
degraded a man. Even in America, the Kotooing which took place before
the President's toe was to him an abomination. No man in accordance
with his theory should worship another man. Titles should only be
used as indicative of a man's trade or occupation. As one man was Mr.
General Grant, another man should be Mr. Bricklayer Green. He could
not do away with the Queen. But for the woman, he was quite disposed
to worship her. All women were to be worshipped, and it was a
privilege of a man to worship a woman. When a woman possessed so
many virtues as did the Queen of England, it became a man's duty to
worship them. But it was a woman whom he would worship, and not the
Queen. This was carried to such a length, and he was so eloquent on
the subject that the police were desired to interfere, and he was
made to hold his tongue,--at any rate as far as England and Ireland
were concerned.
He had made Galway a kind of centre home, attracted thither by the
friendship which his daughter had made with Ada and Edith Jones. For
though Ada and Edith were by no means Republican in their thoughts
and feelings, it had come to pass that they dearly loved the American
girl who was so. Rachel O'Mahony had frequently been at Morony
Castle, as had also her father; and Mr. Jones had taken delight in
controverting the arguments of the American, because, as he had said,
the American had been unselfish and true. But since his lecturing had
been stopped, it had become necessary that he should go elsewhere
to look for means of livelihood, and he had now betaken himself to
London for that purpose,--a circumstance which will be explained at
greater length as the story progresses.
Republicanism was not the only matter in his political creed to
which Gerald O'Mahony was devoted. Though he was no Irishman, as he
delighted to intimate, his heart was Irish; and during his various
visits to the country, he had filled his bosom with thoughts of
Irish wrongs. No educated man was ever born and bred in more utter
ignorance of all political truths than this amiable and philanthropic
gentleman. In regard to Ireland his theory was that the land should
be taken from the present proprietors, and divided among the peasants
who tilled it. When asked what should be done with the present
owners, he was quite ready with his answer: "Let them be paid for the
property by the State!" He would have no man injured to the extent
of a shilling. When asked where the State was to get the money, he
declared that that was a mere detail. States did get money. As for
the landlords themselves, with the money in their pockets, let them
emigrate to the United States, if they were in want of something
to do. As to the division of the land,--that he said would settle
itself. One man would have ten acres, and another fifty; but that
would be fair, because one man had been used to pay for ten, and
another to pay for fifty. As for the men who got no land in the
scramble he could see no injustice. The man who chanced to have been
a tenant for the last twelve months, must take the benefit of his
position. No doubt such man could sell his land immediately after he
got it, because Freedom of Sale was one of the points of his charter.
He could see the injustice of giving the land at a rent fixed by
the State, because the State has no right to interfere in ordinary
contracts between man and man. But if the land was to be given up
without any rent, then he could see no injustice. Thus, and thus
only, could Ireland be made to return to the beauty and the grace of
her original simplicity.
But on the wrongs arising from the want of Home Rule he was
warmer even than on those which the land question had produced.
"Why should Ireland be governed by a British Parliament, a
British Lord-Lieutenant, a British Chief-Secretary, a British
Commander-in-Chief, and trodden under foot by a British soldiery?
Why should Scotland be so governed, why should Wales, why should
Yorkshire?" Mr. Jones would reply, "Repeal the Unions; restore
the Heptarchy!" Mr. O'Mahony had but a confused idea of what the
Heptarchy had been. But he was sure that it would be for the benefit
of Ireland, that Irish knives should be made of Irish steel. "As
undoubtedly would have been the case if the question of protection
were to be left to an Irish Parliament to settle," said Mr. Jones.
"Heaven help the man who would want to cut his mutton. His best
chance would be that he would soon have no mutton to cut."
So the dispute was carried on with much warmth on one side, and with
many arguments on the other, but without any quarrelling. It was
impossible to quarrel with O'Mahony, who was thoroughly unselfish,
and desirous of no violence. When he had heard what had been done in
reference to Mr. Jones's meadows, and had been told of the suspected
conduct of Pat Carroll, he was as indignant as though he had himself
been a landed proprietor, or even an Orangeman. And on Mr. Jones's
part there was a desire to do justice to all around him, which came
within the capacity of O'Mahony's vision. He knew that Mr. Jones
himself was a fair-dealing, honest gentleman, and he could not,
therefore, quarrel with him.
There is a steamer running from the town of Galway, across Lough
Corrib, to the little village of Cong, on the Mayo side of the lake,
which stops and picks up passengers within a mile of Morony Castle.
From this, passengers are landed, so that the means of transit
between Galway and Mr. Jones's house are peculiarly easy. Up and down
by this steamer Ada and Edith Jones had frequently gone to visit
their friend, and as frequently that friend had come to visit them.
But unfortunately the steamer had been open to others besides the
young ladies, and Rachel O'Mahony had found a dearer friend than
either of the girls at Morony Castle. It had come to pass that Frank
Jones and Rachel O'Mahony had declared themselves to be engaged.
On no such ground as want of wealth, or want of family, or want of
education, had Mr. Jones based his objection to the match; but there
had been a peculiarity in the position of Rachel which had made him
hesitate. It was not that she was an American, but such an American!
It was not that he was a Republican, but such a Republican! And she
was more anxious to carry Frank away with her to the United States,
and to join him in a political partnership with her father, than to
come and settle herself down at the Castle. Thus there had arisen an
understanding on the part of the young people, that, though they were
engaged, they were engaged without the consent of the young man's
father. Rachel therefore was not to be brought to the Castle while
Frank was there. To all this Rachel's father had assented, in a
smiling indifferent manner, half intended to ridicule all who were
concerned. As it was not a question of politics, Mr. O'Mahony could
not work himself up to any anger, or apparently even to anxiety in
the matter. "Your young people,"--here he meant English and Irish
generally,--"are taught to think they should begin the world where we
leave it off."
"Your young people are just as fond of what money will buy as are
ours," said Mr. Jones.
"But they are fonder of one another, even, than of money. When they
love one another they become engaged. Then they marry. And as a rule
they don't starve. As a rule people with us seldom do starve. As for
making out an income for a young man to start with, that with us is
quite out of the question. Frank some day will have this property."
"That won't give him much of an income," said Mr. Jones, who since
the affair of the flood had become very despondent in reference to
the estate.
"Then he's as well off now as ever he will be, and might as well
marry the girl." But all this was said with no eagerness.
"They are merely boy and girl as yet," said Mr. Jones.
"I was married, and Rachel was born before I was Frank's age." So
saying, Mr. O'Mahony consented to come to Morony Castle, and bid them
adieu, without bringing his girl with him. This was hard upon Ada
and Edith, as Mr. Frank, of course, went into Galway as often as he
pleased, and made his adieu after his own fashion.
And there had come up another cause which had created further
objections to the marriage in Mr. Jones's mind. Mr. O'Mahony had
declared that as his lecturing was brought to an end by the police,
he must throw himself upon Rachel's capabilities for earning some
money. Rachel's capabilities had been often discussed at the Castle,
but with various feelings on the three sides into which the party had
formed themselves. All the Jones's were on one side, and declared
that the capability had better not be exercised. In this they were
probably wrong;--but it was their opinion. They had lived for many
years away from London. The children had so lived all their lives;
and they conceived that prejudices still existed which had now
been banished or nearly banished from the world. Mr. O'Mahony, who
formed another party, thought that the matter was one of supreme
indifference. As long as he could earn money by lecturing it was well
that he should earn it. It was always better that the men of a family
should work than the women; but, if the man's talent was of no use,
then it might be well to fall back upon the woman. He only laughed
at the existence of a prejudice in the matter. He himself had no
prejudices. He regarded all prejudices as the triumph of folly over
education.
But Rachel, who was the third party in the discussion, had a very
strong feeling of her own. She was of opinion that if the capability
in question existed, it ought to be exercised. On that subject,--her
possession of the capability,--she entertained, she said, strong
doubts. But if the capability existed it certainly ought to be used.
That was Rachel's opinion, expressed with all the vigour which she
knew how to throw into the subject.
This capability had already been exercised in New York, where it had
been efficacious, though the effect had not been great. She had been
brought up to sing, and great things had been promised of her voice.
An American manager had thought much of her performance, though she
had hitherto, he said, been young, and had not come to the strength
of her throat. But he had himself seen to her education, almost as
a child, and had been sure that sooner or later she would do great
things in the musical world. Mr. Mahomet M. Moss was the gentleman
in question, and he at present was in London. That such a voice as
Rachel O'Mahony's should be lost to the world, was to his thinking
a profanity, an indecency, an iniquity, a wasting of God's choicest
gifts, and an abomination not to be thought of; for Mr. Mahomet
M. Moss was in the affairs of his own profession a most energetic
gentleman. Rachel rather turned up her nose at Mr. Mahomet M. Moss;
but she was very anxious to go to London and to take her chance, and
to do something, as she said, laughing, just to keep her father's pot
a little on the boil;--but for Mr. Mahomet M. Moss she did not care
one straw. Mr. O'Mahony was therefore ready to start on the journey,
and had now come to Morony Castle to say farewell to his friend Mr.
Jones. "Are you sure about that fellow Moss?" said Mr. Jones.
"What do you call sure about him? He's as big a swindler, I guess, as
you shall find from here to himself."
"And are you going to put Rachel into his hands?"
"Well, I think so;--after a sort of fashion. He'll swindle her out of
three parts of what she earns;--but she'll get the fourth part. It's
always the way with a young girl when she's first brought out."
"I don't mean about money. Will you leave her conduct in his hands?"
"He'll be a clever chap who'll undertake to look after Rachel's
conduct. I guess she'll conduct herself mostly."
"You'll be there to be sure," said Mr. Jones.
"Yes, I shall be there; and she'll conduct me too. Very likely."
"But, Mr. O'Mahony,--as a father!"
"I know pretty well what you would be saying. Our young folk grow old
quicker a long sight than yours do. Now your girls here are as sweet
as primroses out of the wood. But Rachel is like a rose that has been
brought up to stand firm on its own bush. I'm not a bit afraid of
her. Nor yet is your son. She looks as though you might blow her away
with the breath from your mouth. You try her, and you'll find that
she'll want a deal of blowing."
"Does not a young girl lose something of the aroma of her youth by
seeing too much of the world too soon?"
"How old do you expect her to be when she's to die?"
"Rachel! How can I tell? She is only as yet entering upon life, and
her health seems to be quite confirmed."
"The best confirmed I ever knew in my life. She never has a day's
illness. Taking all the chances one way and another, shall we say
sixty?"
"More than that, I should think," said Mr. Jones.
"Say sixty. She may fall down a trap in the theatre, or be drowned in
one of your Cunarders."
"The Cunard steamers never drown anybody," said Mr. Jones.
"Well, then, a White Star--or any cockle-shell you may please to
name. We'll put her down for sixty as an average."
"I don't know what you are driving at," said Mr. Jones.
"She has lived a third of her life already, and you expect her to
know nothing, so that the aroma may still cling to her. Aroma does
very well for earls' daughters and young marchionesses, though as
far as I can learn, it's going out of fashion with them. What has an
American girl to do with aroma, who's got her bread to earn? She's
got to look to her conduct, and to be sharp at the same time. Mr.
Mahomet M. Moss will rob her of seventy-five cents out of every
dollar for the next twelve months. In three years' time he'll rob her
of nothing. Only that she knows what conduct means, he'd have to look
very sharp to keep his own."
"It is not natural," said Mr. Jones.
"But it's American. Marvels are not natural, and we are marvellous
people. I don't know much about aroma, but I think you'll find Rachel
will come out of the washing without losing much colour in the
process."
Then the two friends parted, and Mr. O'Mahony went back to Galway,
preparatory to his journey to London.