THE MACDERMOT FAMILY.
McC----'s story runs thus. About sixty years ago, a something
Macdermot, true Milesian, pious Catholic, and descendant of king
somebody, died somewhere, having managed to keep a comfortable little
portion of his ancestors' royalties to console him for the loss of
their sceptre. He having two sons, and disdaining to make anything
but estated gentlemen of them, made over in some fictitious manner
(for in those righteous days a Roman Catholic could make no legal
will) to his eldest, the estate on which he lived, and to the
youngest, that of Ballycloran--about six hundred as bad acres as a
gentleman might wish to call his own. But Thaddeus, otherwise Thady
Macdermot, being an estated gentleman, must have a gentleman's
residence on his estate, and the house of Ballycloran was accordingly
built. Had Thady Macdermot had ready money, it might have been well
built; but though an estated gentleman, he had none. He had debts
even when his father died; and though he planned, ordered, and agreed
for a house, such as he thought the descendant of a Connaught Prince
might inhabit without disgrace, it was ill built, half finished,
and paid for by long bills. This, however, is so customary in poor
Ireland that it but little harassed Thady. He had a fine, showy
house, with stables, &c., gardens, an avenue, and a walk round his
demesne; and his neighbours had no more. It was little he cared
for comfort, but he would not be the first of the Macdermots that
would not be respectable. When his house was finished, Thady went
into County Galway, and got himself a wife with two thousand pounds
fortune, for which he had to go to law with his brother-in-law. The
lawsuit, the continual necessity of renewing the bills with which
the builder in Carrick on Shannon every quarter attacked him, the
fruitless endeavour to make his tenants pay thirty shillings an acre
for half-reclaimed bog, and a somewhat strongly developed aptitude
for potheen, sent poor Thady to another world rather prematurely,
and his son and heir, Lawrence, came to the throne at the tender age
of twelve. The Galway brother-in-law compromised the lawsuit; the
builder took a mortgage on the property from the boy's guardian;
the mother gave new leases to the tenants; Larry went to school at
Longford; and Mrs. Mac kept up the glory of Ballycloran.
At the age of twenty, Lawrence, or Larry, married a Milesian damsel,
portionless, but of true descent. The builder from Carrick had made
overtures about a daughter he had at home, and offered poor Larry
his own house, as her fortune. But the blood of the Macdermots
could not mix with the lime and water that flowed in a builder's
veins; he therefore made an enemy where he most wanted a friend, and
brought his wife home to live with his mother. In order that we may
quickly rid ourselves of encumbrances, it may be as well to say that
during the next twenty-five years his mother and wife died; he had
christened his only son Thaddeus, after his grandfather, and his only
daughter had been christened Euphemia, after her grandmother. He
had never got over that deadly builder, with his horrid percentage
coming out of the precarious rents; twice, indeed, had writs been out
against him for his arrears, and once he had received notice from Mr.
Hyacinth Keegan, the oily attorney of Carrick, that Mr. Flannelly
meant to foreclose. Rents were greatly in arrear, his credit was
very bad among the dealers in Mohill, with Carrick he had no other
dealings than those to which necessity compelled him with Mr.
Flannelly the builder, and Larry Macdermot was anything but an easy
man.
Thady was at this time about twenty-four. As had been the case with
his father, he had been educated at a country school; he could
read and write, but could do little more: he was brought up to no
profession or business; he acted as his father's agent over the
property--by which I mean to signify that he occupied himself in
harrowing the tenantry for money which they had no means of paying;
he was occasionally head driver and ejector; and he considered, as
Irish landlords are apt to do, that he had an absolute right over
the tenants, as feudal vassals. Still, they respected and to a
certain extent loved him; "for why? wasn't he the masther's son, and
wouldn't he be the masther hisself?" And he had a regard, perhaps
an affection, for the poor creatures; against any one else he
would defend them; and would they but coin their bones into pounds,
shillings, and pence, he would have been as tender to them as a man
so nurtured could be. With all his faults, Thady was perhaps a better
man than his father; he was not so indomitably idle; had he been
brought up to anything, he would have done it; he was more energetic,
and felt the degradation of his position; he felt that his family was
sinking lower and lower daily; but as he knew not what to do, he only
became more gloomy and more tyrannical. Beyond this, he had acquired
a strong taste for tobacco, which he incessantly smoked out of a
dhudheen; and was content to pass his dull life without excitement or
pleasure.
Euphemia, or Feemy, was about twenty; she was a tall, dark girl,
with that bold, upright, well-poised figure, which is so peculiarly
Irish. She walked as if all the blood of the old Irish Princes was
in her veins: her step, at any rate, was princely. Feemy, also, had
large, bright brown eyes, and long, soft, shining dark hair, which
was divided behind, and fell over her shoulders, or was tied with
ribands; and she had a well-formed nose, as all coming of old
families have; and a bright olive complexion, only the olive was a
little too brown, the skin a little too coarse; and then Feemy's
mouth was, oh! half an inch too long; but her teeth were white and
good, and her chin was well turned and short, with a dimple on it
large enough for any finger Venus might put there. In all, Feemy
was a fine girl in the eyes of a man not too much accustomed to
refinement. Her hands were too large and too red, but if Feemy got
gloves sufficient to go to mass with, it was all she could do in
that way; and though Feemy had as fine a leg as ever bore a pretty
girl, she was never well shod,--her shoes were seldom clean, often
slipshod, usually in holes; and her stockings--but no! I will not
further violate the mysteries of Feemy's wardrobe. But if the
beautiful girls of this poor country knew but half the charms which
neatness has, they would not so often appear as poor Feemy too
usually appeared.
Like her brother, she was ardent and energetic, if she had aught
to be ardent about; she was addicted to novels, when she could get
them from the dirty little circulating library at Mohill; she was
passionately fond of dancing, which was her chief accomplishment;
she played on an old spinnet which had belonged to her mother; and
controlled the motions and actions of the two barefooted damsels who
officiated as domestics at Ballycloran.
Such was the family at Ballycloran in the summer of 183--, and
though not perfect, I hope they have charms enough to make a further
acquaintance not unacceptable.