--Preparations for the Great Discussion, which we do not
give--Extraordinary Hope of a Modern Miracle--Solomon like an Angel
looking into the Gospel.
On the morning of the appointed day, the walls of Castle Cumber were
duly covered with placards containing the points to be discussed, and
the names of the speakers on both sides of the question. The roads
leading to the scene of controversy were thronged with people of
all classes. Private jaunting cars, gigs, and carriages of every
description, rolled rapidly along. Clergymen of every creed, various as
they are, moved through the streets with eager and hurried pace, each
reverend countenance marked by an anxious expression arising from the
interest its possessor felt in the result of the controversy. People, in
fact, of all ranks and religions, were assembled to hear the leading men
on each side defend their own creeds, and assail those of their enemies.
The professional men relinquished, for the day, their other engagements
and avocations, in order to be present; and invalids, who had not been
long out of their sick rooms, tottered down, wrapped in cloaks, to hear
this great display of learning and eloquence. Early on the preceding
morning, the Catholic Clergy, though without the sanction of their
Bishops, formally signified to the committee of the society, their
intention of meeting them man to man on the platform. Before the door
was open to the crowd at large, the opposing clergymen and the more
select friends on both sides were admitted by a private entrance.
The gallery was set aside for ladies, who, in Ireland, and we believe
everywhere else, form an immense majority at religious meetings.
When the house was thronged to suffocation, none but a man intimately
acquainted with the two-fold character of the audience, could observe
much more within it, than the sea of heads with which it was studded.
The Protestant party looked on with a less devoted, but freer aspect;
not, however, without an evident feeling and pride in the number and
character of their champions. A strong dash of enthusiasm might be seen
in many fair eyes among the females, who whispered to each other an
occasional observation concerning their respective favorites; and
then turned upon the divine champions, smiles that seemed to have been
kindled by the sweet influences of love and piety. Among the Roman
Catholic party there was an expression of wonder created by the novelty
of the scene; of keen observation, evinced by the incessant rolling
of their clear Milesian eyes from one party to another, together with
something like pity and contempt for the infatuated Biblemen, as they
called them, who could so madly rush upon the sharp theological spears
of their own beloved clergymen. Dismay, or doubt, or apprehension of any
kind, were altogether out of the question, as was evident from the proud
look, the elated eye, and the confident demeanor by which each of them
might be distinguished. Here and there, you might notice an able-bodied,
coarse-faced Methodist Preacher, with lips like sausages, sombre visage,
closely cropped hair, trimmed across his face, sighing from time to
time, and, with eyes half closed, offering up a silent prayer for
victory over the Scarlet Lady; or, perhaps, thinking of the fat ham
and chicken, that were to constitute that day's dinner, as was not
improbable, if the natural meaning were to be attached to the savory
spirit with which, from time to time, he licked, or rather sucked at,
his own lips. He and his class, many of whom, however, are excellent
men, sat at a distance from the platform, not presuming to mingle with
persons who consider them as having no title to the clerical character,
except such as they conveniently bestow on each other. Not so the
Presbyterian Clergymen who were present. They mingled with their
brethren of the Establishment, from whom they differed only in a less
easy and gentlemanly deportment, but yielded to them neither in kindness
of intellect, firmness, nor the cool adroitness of men well read,
and quite as well experienced in public speaking. At the skirt of
the platform sat the unassuming Mr. Clement, a calm spectator of the
proceedings; and in the capacity of messenger appeared. Darby O'Drive,
dressed in black--he had not yet entered upon the duties of his new
office--busily engaged in bringing in, and distributing oranges and
other cooling fruit, to those of the Protestant party who were to
address the meeting. High aloft, in the most conspicuous situation
on the platform, sat Solomon M'Slime, breathing of piety, purity, and
humility. He held a gilt Bible in his hands, in order to follow the
parties in their scriptural quotations, and to satisfy himself of their
accuracy, as well as that he might fall upon some blessed text, capable
of enlarging his privileges. There was in his countenance a serene
happiness, a sweet benignity, a radiance of divine triumph, partly
arising from the consciousness of his own inward state, and partly
from the glorious development of scriptural truth which would soon be
witnessed, to the utter discomfiture of Popery and the Man of Sin.
For some time before the business of the day commenced, each party
was busily engaged in private conferences; in marking passages for
reference, arranging notes, and fixing piles of books in the most
convenient position. Mr. Lucre was in full pomp, exceedingly busy,
directing, assisting, and tending their wants, with a proud courtesy,
and a suavity of manner, which no man could better assume. The
deportment and manners of the Roman Catholic clergy were strongly
marked, and exceedingly well defined; especially in determination of
character and vigor of expression. In a word, they were firm, resolute,
and energetic. Among the latter, the busiest by far, and the most
zealous was Father M'Cabe, who assumed among his own party much the same
position that Mr. Lucre did among his. He was, no doubt of it, in great
glee, and searched out for Mr. Lucre's eye, in order to have a friendly
glance with him, before the play commenced. Lucre perceived this, and
avoided him as much as he could; but, in fact, the thing was impossible.
At length he caught the haughty parson's eye, and exclaimed with a
comical grin, which was irresistible--
“I am glad to see you here, Mr. Lucre; who knows, but we may make a
Christian of you yet. You know that we, as Catholics, maintain that the
power of working miracles is in the Church still; and that, certainly,
would prove it.”
Mr. Lucre bowed, and smiled contemptuously, but made no reply.
When the chairman was appointed, and the regulations by which the
meeting was to be guided, read and assented to by both parties, the
melee commenced; and, indeed, we are bound to say, that a melancholy
comment upon Christian charity it was. It is not our intention to give
anything like a report of this celebrated discussion, inasmuch, as two
reports, each the genuine and authentic one, and each most egregiously
contradictory of the other, have been for several years before the
public, who, consequently, have a far better right to understand the
business than we do, who are at this distant date merely the remote
historian.
We may be permitted to say, however, that the consequences of this great
discussion were such as are necessarily produced by every exhibition of
the kind. For a considerable time afterwards nothing was heard between
Catholic and Protestant but fierce polemics, and all the trite and wordy
arguments that are to be found in the mouths of ignorant and prejudiced
men on both sides. The social harmony of the district was disturbed, and
that friendly intercourse which should subsist between neighbors, was
either suspended or destroyed. A fierce spirit of exacerbation and
jealousy was created, and men looked Upon each other with bitterness and
resentment; whilst to complete the absurdity, neither party could
boast of a single convert to attest the glory of the triumph which each
claimed.
At this period, the character of the Castle Cumber yeomanry corps, or as
they were called, M'Clutchy's Blood-hounds, was unquestionably in such
infamous odor with all but bigots, in consequence of their violence
when upon duty, that a few of the more mild and benevolent gentry of the
neighborhood, came to the determination of forming a corps composed of
men not remarkable for the extraordinary and exclusive loyalty which put
itself forth in so many offensive and oppressive forms. Deaker's Dashers
were by no means of such rancid bigotry as M'Clutchy's men, although
they were, heaven knows, much worse than they ought to have been.
Their most unjustifiable excesses, however, Were committed in his
absence, and without his orders; for it is due to Deaker himself to
say, that, although a staunch political Protestant and infidel, he never
countenanced violence against those who differed from him in creed.
Deaker's creed was a very peculiar one, and partook of the comic
profligacy which marked his whole life. He believed, for instance,
that Protestantism was necessary, but could not for the life of him
understand the nature or tendency of religion. As he himself said, the
three great Protestant principles and objects of his life were--to drink
the “Glorious Memory “--“To hell with the Pope”--merely because he was
not a Protestant--and to “die whistling the Boyne Water.” If he could
accomplish these successfully, he thought he had discharged his duty to
his king and country, and done all that could be fairly expected from an
honest and loyal Protestant. And, indeed, little, if anything else, in
a religious way, was expected from him, or from any other person, at the
period of which we write.
Be this, however, as it may, the formation of a new corps of cavalry was
determined on, and by unanimous consent, the conduct of the matter in
all its departments was entrusted to Mr. Hartley, the gentleman already
mentioned, as selected to contest the county against Lord Cumber or his
brother, for it had not yet been decided on between them, as to which of
them should stand. Lord Cumber expected an Earldom for his virtues, with
a seat in the house of Lords, and should these honors reach him in
time, then his brother, the Hon. Richard Topertoe, should be put in
nomination. In point of fact, matters between the two parties were fast
drawing to a crisis, and it was also in some degree to balance interests
with Lord Cumber, and neutralize the influence of the Irish government,
that Hartley and his friends deemed it advisible to have a cavalry corps
at their disposal. The day of the dissolution of parliament was now
known, and it naturally became necessary that each candidate should be
found at his post.
It was at this very period that a circumstance occurred, which, although
of apparently small importance, was nevertheless productive of an
incident that will form the catastrophe of our chronicles. Our readers
cannot forget the warm language which passed between the man Sharpe and
our exquisite friend, Philip M'Clutchy, on their way from Deaker's. Now,
it is due to this man to say, that, on looking back at the outrage
which occurred in O'Regan's cottage, and reflecting upon the melancholy
consequences it produced--not forgetting the heart-rending insanity of
O'Regan's wife--he felt deep regret, amounting almost to remorse,
for the part which he bore in it. Independently of this, however, the
conduct of Phil and his father, in their military capacity over the
corps, was made up of such tyrranical insolence at one time, and of such
contemptible meanness at another, that the men began to feel disgusted
with such sickening alternations of swaggering authority, and base,
calculating policy. Many of them, consequently, were heartily tired of
their officers, and had already begun to think of withdrawing altogether
from the corps, unless there were some change for the better made in
it. Now, at this precise state of feeling, with regard to both
circumstances, had Sharpe arrived, when he met his lieutenant on the
day when that gallant gentleman signalized himself by horsewhipping his
grandmother. Phil's threat had determined him to return to the Dashers,
but, on hearing a day or two afterwards, that Hartley was about to raise
a new corps, composed of well-conducted and orderly men, he resolved
not only to offer himself to that gentleman, but to induce all who
were moderate among the “hounds,” and, indeed, they were not many,
to accompany him. This alarmed M'Clutchy very much, because on Lord
Cumber's arrival to canvass the county, it would look as if his
Lordship's interests had been neglected; and he feared, too, that the
withdrawing of the men from his corps might lead to investigations
which were strongly to be deprecated. After a day or two's inquiries,
therefore, and finding that from eighteen to twenty of his youngest
and most respectable yeomanry had not only returned him their arms and
appointments, but actually held themselves ready to be enrolled in the
Annagh Corps--for so Hartley's was termed--he sat down and wrote the
following letter to Lord Cumber:--
“Constitution Cottage, June--
“My Lord:
“Circumstances affecting your Lordship's personal and political
interests have recently occurred here, and are even now occurring, which
render it my painful duty to communicate with you on the subject without
loss of time. I am sorry to say that the conduct of Mr. Hartley,
your well known opponent for the county, is not that which becomes a
high-minded man. The Cavalry Corps of which your Lordship is Colonel,
and which, by the way, has rendered good service in the firm discharge
of their duty, has been very much damaged by the extraordinary conduct
which that gentleman is pursuing. The fact is, that he has taken it
into his head, aided and assisted of course by his friends and political
supporters, to raise a corps of Yeomanry Cavalry as it were, in
opposition to ours; and this, no doubt, he has a right to do; although
I am quite certain, at the same time, that it is done with a view to
secure either the support, or at least the neutrality of government;
which neutrality would, as your Lordship knows, be a heavy blow to
us. However, as I said, he has as good a right as we have to raise his
corps; but I do not think he is justified in writing private circulars,
or in tampering with the men of our corps, many of whom he has already
seduced from their duty, and lured over with honeyed words and large
promises to the body he is raising. The fact is, my Lord, if our
men were not so devotedly attached to my son and myself as they are,
Hartley's unjustifiable interference would leave the corps a mere
skeleton. As it is, he has taken eighteen of our very best men from us;
by best, I allude only to youth and physical energy, for I need scarcely
say, that all the staunch and loyal fellows remain with us. I am
sorry to add that Mr. Hickman, as I predicted he would, is vigorously
supporting your opponent; and there is a scoundrel here who is often
closeted with him--a rascally painter named Easel, _quem ego_--you see
I have a little of my Latin still, my Lord. The fellow--this wild goose,
Easel, I mean--says he has come to the neighborhood to take sketches;
but if I don't mistake much I shall ere long put him in a condition to
sketch the Bay of Sidney. I have already reported him to government,
and, indeed, I have every reason to suppose he is a Popish Agent, sent
here to sow the seeds of treason and disaffection among the people.
Nothing else can account for the dreadful progress which Whiteboyism has
made upon your Lordship's property, where it is much more outrageous and
turbulent than in any other district that I am acquainted with. I have
also to acquaint you, my Lord, that even if I were disposed to keep
M'Loughlin and Harman on the property--that is, granting that I were
sufficiently treacherous to your interest to do so, it is now out of my
power. Their own dishonesty has at length fallen upon their heads. They
are bankrupts, and not now in a condition to pay a renewal fine for
their leases; but I am happy to inform your Lordship, that my son
Phil, and Mr. M'Slime, have each offered five hundred pounds for their
respective holdings--a tender which I might in vain expect from any
other quarter and which I cannot conscientiously refuse.
“Harman was acquitted for the murder of Harpur--in consequence, it is
thought, of a treacherous scoundrel, named Sharpe, who was once one of
our corps, having taken a bribe to give evidence in his favor. This same
Sharpe is to be a sergeant in Hartley's corps; and, when I say that,
Hartley and Harman are and have been on very intimate terms, I think
it shows how the wind blows between them, at all events. I have been
receiving rent yesterday and to-day, and cannot but regret the desperate
state to which things have been brought. There is no gettin' in
money, and the only consolation I feel is, that I have honestly and
conscientiously discharged my duty. I have cleared a great number of
our enemies from the property, but, unfortunately, such is the state
of things here, that there is the greater number of the holdings still
unoccupied, other tenants that we could depend on being afraid to enter
upon them, in consequence of the spirit of intimidation that is abroad.
This M'Loughlin is certainly a most consummate swindler: he was unable
to pay his rent, and I sent in an execution yesterday; but, as every one
knows, fourteen days must elapse before the public auction of property
takes place. Judge of my surprise then, when, short as was the time, an
affidavit has been made before me, that he and his family have come to
the determination of emigrating to America, and, I suppose, by the aid
of a midnight mob to take away all that is valuable of their property
by force. I consequently must remove it at once, as the law, under such
circumstances, empowers me to do--for I cannot sit by and suffer your
lordship' to be robbed, in addition to being both misrepresented and
maligned by these men and their families. Granting the full force,
however, of this unpleasant intelligence, still I do not think it
necessary that you should at present leave the circles of polished and
fashionable life in which you move, to bury yourself here among a set
of malignant barbarians, who would scruple very little to slit your
lordship's weasand, or to shoot you from behind a hedge.
“I am in correspondence with Counsellor Browbeater, at the Castle, who,
in addition to the glorious privilege of being, as he deserves to be,
free of the Back Trot there, is besides a creature after my own heart.
We are both engaged in attempting to bring the Spy System to that state
of perfection which we trust may place it on a level with that fine old
institution, so unjustly abused, called the Inquisition. Browbeater is,
indeed, an exceedingly useful man to the present government, and does
all that in him lies, I mean out of his own beat, to prevent them from
running into financial extravagance. For instance, it was only the other
day that he prevented a literary man with a large family from getting a
pension from the Premier, who, between you and me, my lord, is no great
shake; and this was done in a manner that entitles him to a very
lasting remembrance indeed. The principle upon which he executed this
interesting and beautiful piece of treachery--for treachery of this
kind, my lord, is in the catalogue of public virtues--was well worthy of
imitation by every man emulous of office; it was that of professing
to be a friend to the literary man, whilst he acted the spy upon his
private life, and misrepresented him to the Minister. Oh, you do not
know, my lord, how the heart of such a man as I am, warms to the author
of this manly act of private treachery and public virtue, and I cannot
help agreeing with my friend M'Slime, who, when he heard it, exclaimed
with tears of admiration in his eyes, 'it is beautiful--verily the
virtuous iniquity of it refreshes me! May that mild, meek, and most
gentlemanly Christian, Mr. Browbeater, be rewarded for it! And may the
day never come when he shall require to tread in the footsteps of the
devil!' Indeed, my lord, I cannot help crying amen to this, and adding,
that the remembrance of his virtues may descend and reflect honor on
his posterity, as, I have no doubt, they will do. How few like him could
transfuse the spirit of the Tipperary assassin into the moral principles
of the Castle, for useful purpose? I beg to inclose, your lordship, Mr.
Hartley's circular, which, I think, contains an indirect reflection on
certain existing bodies of a similar nature, and is therefore, in my
opinion, very offensive to us; I also enclose you others which he has
written to several of your tenants, who are already members of your own
corps,
“I have the honor to be, &c, &c,
“Val M'Clutchy.”
The following is the circular alluded to above--
“Sir: As a proposal to raise an additional yeomanry corps of
_respectable_ cavalry in Castle Cumber and its vicinity is about to be
submitted to the Lord Lieutenant, in order to receive his approbation,
your presence is requested at Sam Company's Castle Cumber Arms, at
twelve o'clock on Friday next, when it is proposed to name officers,
and adopt such further measures as may appear most conducive to the
embodiment of the corps with expedition and effect.
“I am, sir,
“Your humble servant,
“Henry Hartley.”
To his letter Val received the following reply--
“Belgrave Square.
“Dear Sir: I received your letter, and perfectly agree with you as to
the offensive nature of Mr. Hartley's circular, many of which I have had
in my possession for some time past. With respect to him, I have only
to say, that he and I have agreed to arrange that matter between us, as
soon as I reach Castle Cumber. I am sorry that any of my tenants should
deserve the character which M'Loughlin and his partner have received
at your hand; I dare say, however, that if they did not deserve it they
would not get it. The arrangements for their removal, of course I leave
as I hitherto have left everything within the sphere of your duty, to
your own sense of honesty and justice. _Do not, however, take harsh
or sudden steps_. In the meantime lose not a moment in remitting the
needful.
“Yours, &c,
“Cumber.”
It is not at all likely that Lord Cumber would ever have noticed
Hartley's circular, or troubled himself about the formation of the
new corps in the slightest degree were it not for the malignity of
M'Clutchy, who not only hated the whole family of the Hartleys from the
same principle on which a knave hates an honest man, but in remembrance
of that gentleman's cousin having, in his office, and in his own
presence, kicked his son Phil and pulled his nose. When enclosing
the circular, therefore, to his lordship, he underlined the word
“respectable,” by which it was made to appear deliberately offensive.
Whether it was used with the design of reflecting upon the licentious
violence of the blood-hounds, we pretend not to say, but we can safely
affirm that the word in the original document was never underlined
by Hartley. Lord Cumber, like his old father, was no coward, and
the consequence was, that having once conceived the belief that the
offensive term in the circular was levelled at his own corps--although
he had never even seen it--he, on the receipt of M'Clutchy's letter,
came to the determination of writing to Hartley upon the subject.
Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--
“Sir: I have just perused a circular written by you, calling a meeting
at the Castle Cumber Arms, with the object of forming what you are
pleased to term, a yeomanry corps of _respectable_ cavalry. Now you are
perfectly at liberty to bestow whatever epithets you wish upon your new
corps, provided these epithets contain no unfair insinuation against
existing corps. I think, therefore, that whilst others have been for
some time already formed in the neighborhood, your use of the term
respectable was, to say the least of it, unhandsome. I also perceive
that you have written to some of my tenants, who are already enrolled
in the Castle Cumber corps, and am informed that several of my men have
already given up their arms and clothing, on account of an application
from you to join your corps. I presume, sir, you did not know that these
persons belonged to the Castle Cumber troops, for, however anxious
in the cause you may be, I need not point out to you a very obvious
fact--to wit--that weakening a corps already embodied only tends to
defeat the purpose for which it was designed. I take it, therefore, for
granted, that no gentleman, however great his influence, would ask any
soldier to desert his colors, and I am sure you will tell those men that
they ought to remain in the body in which they were enrolled, and in
which enrollment their names have been returned to the war office. In
conclusion, I think that the tenant who does not reserve to himself the
power of serving the landlord under whom he derives the whole of his
property, is, in my opinion, both ungrateful and unprincipled: and
he who solicits him to resign that essential reservation is, I think,
extremely indelicate.
“I am, &c, Cumber.”
To this Mr. Hartley sent the following:--
“My Lord: I cannot at all recognize the tyrannical principle you lay
down in your definition of the relations between landlord and tenant. I
deny that a tenant necessarily owes any such slavish and serf-like duty
to his landlord as you advocate; and I am of opinion, that the landlord
who enforces, or attempts to enforce such a duty, is stretching his
privileges beyond their proper limits. I do not understand that any of
your lordship's tenantry have been solicited to join our new corps. I
have signed circular letters for my own tenantry, and if any of them
have reached yours, it has been without either my consent or knowledge.
“I have the honor to be,
“My lord, &c,
“Henry Hartley.”
Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--
“Sir: I beg to inquire whether you apply the word tyrannical to me?
“I have the honor, &c,
“Cumber.”
Henry Hartley, Esq., to the Eight Hon. Lord Cumber:--
“My Lord: I think if you had read my last communication with due
attention, you might have perceived that I applied the term which seems
to offend you, to your principles, rather than to yourself. So long as
your lordship continues, however, to advocate such a principle, so long
shall I associate it with the epithet in question.
“I have the honor, &c,
“Henry Hartley.”
Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--
“Sir: Your letter merely contains a distinction without a difference.
So long as I identify my principles with myself, or myself with my
principles, so long shall I look upon any offence offered to the one as
offered to the other. The principle, therefore, which you brand with the
insulting epithet tyrannical, is one which I hold, and ever shall
hold; because I believe it to be just and not tyrannical. I await your
explanation, and trust it may be satisfactory.
“I have the honor to be, &c,
“Cumber.”
Henry Hartley, Esq., to the Eight Hon. Lord Cumber:--
“My Lord: I am not anxious to have a quarrel with you, and I believe you
will admit that the courage neither of myself nor any one of my
family was never called in question. I really regret that any serious
misunderstanding should arise between us, from this mere play upon
words. I trust, therefore, to your Lordship's good sense, and good
feeling, not to press me on this occasion.
“I have the honor, &c,
“Henry Hartley.”
Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--
“Sir: I never doubted your courage until now. I have only to say, that I
beg an answer to my last letter.
“I have the honor, &c,
“Cumber.”
Henry Hartley, Esq., to Lord Cumber:--
“My Lord: Your Lordship will find it in my last but one.
“I have the honor, &c, &c,
“Henry Hartley.”
Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--
“Sir: I beg to say that I shall be in Castle Cumber within a fortnight
from this date, and that you shall have early and instant notice of my
arrival.
“I remain, &c,
“Cumber.”
Henry Hartley, Esq., to Lord Cumber:--
“And I, my Lord, shall be ready to meet you either there or anywhere
else,
“And have the honor, &c,
“Henry Hartley.”
In the meantime, and whilst this correspondence was going forward,
the political reeling about Castle Cumber rose rapidly between the
adherents and friends of each. M'Clutchy called a meeting of Lord
Cumber's friends and his own, which was held in the public rooms of
Castle Cumber. The following is the report taken from the columns of the
“True Blue: “--
“At a special meeting of the committee of the Castle Cumber cavalry,
held in that town on Monday, the 15th March, 18--, Lieutenant Philip
M'Clutchy in the chair.
“Captain Valentine M'Clutchy having communicated to certain of the
Castle Cumber corps a circular letter, as well as committee to the
effect that Henry Hartley, Esq., having directed private letters,
influencing them to withdraw therefrom, and join a troop which he is
now about raising, and that in consequence of these steps on his part,
several of the Castle Cumber troopers had deserted, and were enrolled in
the new corps:--
“And Captain M'Clutchy having laid before the said Committee a copy of a
letter which he had drawn up to be sent to Henry Hartley, Esq., and
the Committee, having taken the same into their most serious
consideration:--
“It was unanimously resolved--That any attempt to induce the defection
of any members enrolled in such corps, even to join another corps, is
highly injurious to the Institution at large, inasmuch, as it holds
out a pernicious example of desertion, and above all, is calculated to
excite a jealous electioneering spirit, and create enmity between
the yeomanry troops, whose utility and value to the country depend on
unanimity and mutual good will.
“Resolved--That the above resolution, together with the following letter
signed by the Chairman in the name of the meeting, be forwarded to Henry
Hartley, Esq.:
“'Sir--Having associated for the safety and quiet of this portion of the
country, aa well as for the protection of our families and properties,
we feel ourselves particularly called upon, on an occasion like the
present, to stand forward and repel the attack made upon this loyal
corps, and, indeed, on the whole body of yeomanry throughout this
kingdom--in spiriting away, by your letters and undue influence, some
of our members, and attempting to procure others to be withdrawn from a
corps already enrolled, armed, and complete. Be assured, sir, we shall
be at all times ready, and happy to afford every assistance in
the formation of any new corps in our neighborhood, provided this
co-operation shall have no effect in diminishing our own.
“'We, therefore, call upon you to reflect on the measures you have
taken and are taking, and not to persevere in the error of keeping such
deserters from our troop as have joined yours; as we shall in the case
of your persisting to do so, most certainly publish the whole course
of your proceedings in this matter for the satisfaction of our loyal
brethren throughout the kingdom, and leave them to decide between you
and us.
“'Philip M'Clutchy, Chairman.
“'Valentine M'Cldtchy, Captain.
“'Richard Armstrong, Second Lieutenant.
“'Robebt M'bullet.
“'Charles Cartridge.
“'Boniface Buckram.
“'Dudley Fulton, Secretary.'”
To these documents, which were so artfully worded as to implicate
Hartley without openly committing themselves, that gentleman having
already had the understanding with Lord Cumber of which our readers are
already cognizant made the following brief reply.
“'To Richard Armstrong, Esq., second Lieutenant of the Castle Cumber
Cavalry:--
“Sir: I have received two resolutions passed at a meeting of your
troop in Castle Cumber, and regret to say, for the sake of the Yeomanry
service of the country, that I cannot send any communication to
those who bear the two first names on your committee. I trust I am a
gentleman, and that I shall not knowingly be found corresponding with
any but gentlemen. I have only now simply to say, that I repel with
great coolness--for indignation I feel none--the charges that have
been brought against me, both in the resolutions, and the letter which
accompanied them. Neither shall I take further notice of any letters
or resolutions you may send me, as I have no intention in future of
corresponding with any one on the subject, with the exception of Lord
Cumber himself, with whom I have had recent communications touching this
matter.
“I am, sir, &c, “Henry Hartley.”
Our readers are, no doubt, a good deal surprised, that Phil, knowing,
from sad experience, the courage for which all the Hartley family were
so remarkable, should have ventured to undertake the post of chairman,
on an occasion where such charges were advanced against the gentleman
in question. And, indeed, so they ought to be surprised, as upon
the following morning no man living felt that sensation so deeply or
painfully as did worthy Phil himself, who experienced the tortures of
the damned. The whole secret of the matter, therefore, is, that Phil
had lately taken to drink--to drink at all hours too--morning, noon, and
night. In vain did his father remonstrate with him upon the subject; in
vain did he entreat on one occasion and command on another. Phil, who
was full of valor under certain circumstances, told his father he did
not care a curse for him, and d--d his honor if he would allow him
to curb him in that manner. The fact is, that Phil was at the present
period of our tale, as corrupt and profligate a scoundrel as ever walked
the earth. His father had no peace with him and received little else
at his hands than contempt, abuse, and threats of being horsewhipped.
Perhaps if our readers can remember the extermination scene at Drum Dhu,
together with the appearance of Kate Clank, they will be disposed to
think that the son's conduct now, was very like judicial punishment
on the father for what his own had been. Be this as it may--on the
following morning after the meeting at Castle Cumber, Phil's repentance,
had it been in a good cause, ought to have raised him to the calendar.
In truth, it rose to actual remorse.
“Damn my honor, M'Clutchy”--for that was now the usual respectful tone
of his address to him--“were you not a precious old villain to allow me
to take the chair yesterday, when you knew what cursed fire-eaters these
Hartleys are?”
“That, Phil, comes of your drinking brandy so early in the day. The
moment you were moved into the chair--and, by the way, I suspect
M'Bullet had a mischievous design in it--I did everything in my power,
that man could do, to prevent you from taking' it.”
It's a d----d bounce, M'Clutchy, you did no such thing, I tell you. D--n
you altogether, I say! I would rather the devil had the whole troop, as
he will too, with Captain M'Clutchy at the head of them--”
“Don't get into insubordination, my hero,” said his father; “why do you
put me over Lord Cumber's head?”
“Ay,” replied the son, “when sending you-to Headquarters, you mean; yes,
my old knave, and when he and you and the whole kit of you get there,
you'll know then what permanent duty means. That scoundrel Hartley will
be sending a challenge to me.”
“Make your mind easy, Phil,” replied his virtuous father, “there is not
the slightest danger of that; here's his reply to Armstrong, which Dick
himself handed me in Castle Cumber, a while ago. Read that and let it
console you.”
Phil accordingly read Hartley's letter, in which both he and his father
were mentioned with such marked respect; and never did reprieve come
to a shivering, inanimate, and hopeless felon with the hangman's noose
neatly settled under his left ear, with a greater sense of relief than
did this communication to him. In fact, he had reached that meanness and
utter degradation of soul which absolutely feels comfort, and is glad to
take refuge, in the very contempt of an enemy.
“I hope you're satisfied,” said his father.
“All right, my old fellow--all right, Captain M'Clutchy, Magistrate and
Grand-juror. Damn my honor, but you're a fine old cock, Val--and now
I have spirits to take a glass of brandy, which I hadn't this whole
morning before.”
“Phil,” said the father, “how do you think I can ever get you appointed
to the magistracy if you take to drink?”
“Drink! why, blood, my old boy, is it this to me! Do you mean to tell me
that there are no drunken magistrates on the bench? Drink! why, man, let
me drink, swear, and play the devil among the ladies, surely you know
that my thorough Protestantism and loyalty will make up for, and redeem
all. Hey, then, for the glass of brandy, in which I'll drink your
health, and hang me, I'll not abuse you again--unless when you deserve
it, ha, ha, ha!”
“At all events,” said Val, “keep yourself steady for this day; this is
the day, Phil, on which I will glut my long cherished vengeance against
Brian M'Loughlin--against him and his. I shall leave them this night
without a roof over their heads, as I said I would, and, Phil, when you
are in possession of his property and farm, and he and his outcasts, he
will then understand what I meant, when I told him with a boiling heart
in Castle Cumber Fair, that his farm and mine lay snugly together.”
“But what will you do with the sick woman, I mean his wife?” asked Phil,
putting a glass of brandy to his lips, and winking at his father; “what
will you do with the sick woman, I say?”
Val's face became so frightfully ghastly, and presented so startling a
contrast between his complexion and black bushy brows, that even Phil
himself got for a moment alarmed, and said:--
“My God, father, what is the matter?”
Val literally gasped, as if seeking for breath, and then putting his
hand upon his heart, he said--
“Phil, I am sick here--”
“I see you are,”' said Phil, “but what is the matter, I say again? why
are you sick?”
“Vengeance, Phil; I am sick with vengeance! The moment is now near, and
at last I have it within my clutch;” and here he extended his hand, and
literally made a clutch at some imaginary object in the air.
“Upon my honor,” said Philip, “I envy you; you are a fine, consistent
old villain.”
“The sick woman, Phil! By the great heavens, and by all that they
contain--if they do contain anything--I swear, that if every individual
of them, men and women, were at the last gasp, and within one single
moment of death--ha! hold,” said he, checking himself, “that would never
do. Death! why death would end all their sufferings.”
“Oh, not all, I hope,” said Phil, winking again.
“No matter,” resumed Val, “their sufferings in this life it would end,
and so I should no longer be either eye-witness or ear-witness of their
destitution and miseries. I would see them, Phil, without house or
home--without a friend on earth--without raiment, without food--ragged,
starved--starved out of their very virtues--despised, spat upon,
and trampled on by all! To these, Phil, I thought to have added
shame--shame; but we failed--we have failed.”
“No,” replied Phil, “I give you my word, we did not.”
“We did, sir,” said the father; “Harman and she are now reconciled, and
this is enough for the people, who loved her. Yes, by heavens, we have
failed.” Val sat, or almost dropped on a chair as he spoke, for he had
been pacing through the parlor until now; and putting his two hands
over his face, he sobbed out--groaned even with agony--until the tears
literally gushed in torrents through his fingers. “I thought to have
added shame to all I shall make them suffer,” he exclaimed; “but in that
I am frustrated.” He here naturally clenched his hands and gnashed his
teeth, like a man in the last stage of madness.
On removing his hands, too, his face, now terribly distorted out of
its lineaments by the convulsive workings of this tremendous passion,
presented an appearance which one might rather suppose to have been
shaped in hell, so unnaturally savage and diabolical were all its
outlines.
Phil, who had sat down at the same time, with his face to the back of
the chair, on which his two hands were placed, supporting his chin, kept
his beautiful eyes, seated as he was in that graceful attitude, fixed
upon his father with a good deal of surprise. Indeed it would be a
difficult thing, considering their character and situation, to find
two countenances more beautifully expressive of their respective
dispositions. If one could conceive the existence of any such thing as a
moral looking-glass placed between them, it might naturally be supposed
that Val, in looking at Phil, saw himself; and that Phil in his virtuous
father's face also saw his own. The son's face and character, however,
had considerably the advantage over his father's. Val's presented merely
what you felt you must hate, even to abhorrence; but the son's, that
which you felt to be despicable besides, and yet more detestable still.
“Well,” said Phil, “all I can say is, that upon my honor, my worthy
father, I don't think you shine at the pathetic. Damn it, be a man, and
don't snivel in that manner, just like a furious drunken woman, when
she can't get at another drunken woman who is her enemy. Surely if we
failed, it wasn't our faults; but I think I can console you so far as
to say we did not fail. It's not such an easy thing to suppress scandal,
especially if it happens to be a lie, as it is in the present case.”
“Ah,” said the father with bitterness, “it was all your fault, you
ill-looking Bubber-lien. (*An ignorant, awkward booby.) At your age,
your grandfather would not have had to complain of want of success.”
“Come, M'Clutchy--I'll not bear this--it's cursed ungenerous in you,
when you know devilish well how successful I have been on the property.”
“Ay,” said Val, “and what was the cause of that? Was it not merely among
those who were under our thumb--the poor and the struggling, who fell in
consequence of your threats, and therefore through fear of us only;
but when higher game and vengeful purposes were in view, see what a
miserable hand you made of it. I tell you, Phil, if I were to live
through a whole eternity, I could never forgive M'Loughlin the triumph
that his eye had over me in Castle Cumber Fair. I felt that he looked
through me--that he saw as clearly into my very heart, as you would of
a summer day into a glass beehive. My eye quailed before him--my brow
fell; but then--well--no matter; I have him now--ho, ho, I have him
now!”
“I wonder the cars and carts are not coming before now,” observed Phil,
“to take away the furniture, and other valuables.”
“I am surprised myself,” replied Val; “they ought certainly to have been
here before now. Darby got clear instructions to summon them.”
“Perhaps they won't come,” observed the other, “until--Gad, there's his
rascally knock, at all events. Perhaps he has sent them up.”
“No,” said Val; “I gave him positive instructions to order them here in
the first instance.”
Darby now entered.
“Well, Darby,” said Val, who, on account of certain misgivings, treated
the embryo gaoler with more civility than usual; “what news? How many
cars and carts have von got?”
Darby sat down and compressed his lips, blew out his cheeks, and after
looking about the apartment for a considerable time, let out his breath
gradually until the puff died away.
“What's the matter with you, Darby?” again inquired Val.
Darby went over to him, and looking seriously into his face--then
suddenly laying down his hat--said, as he almost wrung his hands--
“There's a Spy, sir, on the Estate; a Popish Spy, as sure as Idolathry
is rank in this benighted land.”
“A Spy!” exclaimed Phil, “we know there is.”
“Be quiet, Phil--who is he, Darby?”
“Why, sir, a fellow--of the name of Weasand--may Satan open a gusset
in his own for him this day! Sure, one Counsellor Browbeater, at the
Castle, sir--they say he's the Lord o' the Black Trot--Lord save us--
whatever that is--”
“The Back Trot, Darby--go on.”
“Well, sir, the Back Trot; but does that mean that he trots backwards,
sir?”
“Never mind, Darby, he'll trot anyway that will serve his own
purposes--go on, I tell you.”
“Well, sir, sure some one has wrote to this Counsellor Browbeater about
him, and what do you think, but Counsellor Browbeater has wrote to Mr.
Lucre, and Mr. Lucre spoke to me, so that it's all the same as if the
Castle had wrote to myself---and axed me if I knewn anything about him.”
“Well, what did you say?”
“Why, I said I did not, and neither did I then; but may I never die in
sin, but I think I have a clue to him now.”
“Well, and how is that?”
“Why, sir, as I was ordhering the tenantry in wid the cars and carts
to remove M'Loughlin's furniture, I seen this Weasand along wid Father
Roche, and there they were--the two o' them--goin' from house to house;
whatever they said to the people I'm sure I don't know, but, anyhow,
hell resave--hem.”
“Take care, Darby,” said Val, “no swearing--I fear you're but a bad
convert.”
“Why, blood alive, sir,” replied Darby, “sure turnin' Protestant, I
hope, isn't to prevent me from swearin'--don't themselves swear through
thick and thin? and, verily, some of the Parsons too, are as handy at
it, as if they had sarved an apprenticeship to it.”
“Well, but about this fellow, the Spy?”
“Why, sir, when I ordhered the cars the people laughed at me, and said
they had betther autority for keepin' them, than you had for sendin'
for them; and when I axed them who it was, they laughed till you'd think
they'd split. I know very well it's a _Risin_ that's to be; and our
throats will be cut by this blackguard spy, Weasand.”
“And so you have got no cars,” said Val.
“I got one,” he replied, “and meetin' Lanty Gorman goin' home wid Square
Deaker's ass--King James--or Sheemus a Cocka, as he calls him--that
is, 'Jemmy the Cock,' in regard of the great courage he showed at the
Boyne--I made him promise to bring him up. Lanty, sir, says the Square's
a'most gone.”
“Why, is he worse?” asked Val, very coolly.
“Begad, sir, sure he thinks it's the twelfth o' July; and he was always
accustomed to get a keg of the Boyne Wather, whenever that day came
round, to drink the loyal toasts in; and nothing would satisfy him but
that Lanty would put the cart on Sheemus a Cocka, and bring him a keg of
it all the way from the Boyne. Lanty to plaise him, sets off wid himself
to St. Patrick's Well, where they make the Stations, and filled his keg
there; and the Square, I suppose, is this moment drinkin', if he's able
to drink, the Glorious Memory in blessed wather, may God forgive him, or
blessed punch, for it's well known that the wather of St. Patrick's Well
is able to consecrate the whiskey any day, glory be to God!”
“Damn my honor, Darby,” said Phil, “but that's queer talk from a
Protestant, if you are one.”
“Och, sure aren't we all Protestant together, now?” replied Darby; “and
sure, knowing that, where's the use of carryin' the matter too far?
Sure, blood alive, you wouldn't have me betther than yourselves? I hope
I know my station, gintlemen.”
“Ah, Darby,” said Phil, “you're a neat boy, I think.”
“What's to be done?” asked Val; “their refusal to send their horses and
cars must be owing to the influence of this priest Roche.”
“Of course it is,” replied the son; “I wish to God I had the hanging
of him; but why did you send to those blasted papists at all? sure the
blood-hounds were your men.”
“Why did I, Phil? ah, my good shallow Son--ha, why did I?” he spoke in
a low condensed whisper, “why, to sharpen my vengeance. It was my design
to have made one papist aid in the oppression of another. Go off, Darby,
to Castle Cumber, and let twelve or fourteen of my own corps come to
M'Loughlin's with their horses and carts immediately;--call also to
M'Slime's, and desire him to meet me there forthwith; and bid Hanlon and
the other two fellows to wait outside until they shall be wanted. The
sheriff will be at M'Loughlin's about two o'clock.”
After Darby had gone, Val paused for a while, then rose, and walked
about, apparently musing and reflecting, with something of uneasiness
and perplexity in his looks; whilst Phil unfolded the True Blue, and
began to peruse its brilliant pages with his usual nonchalance.
“Phil,” said the father, “there is one thing I regret, and it is that
I promised Solomon Harman's farm. We should, or rather you should, you
know, have secured both--for I need not tell you that two good things
are better than one, and as my friend Lucre knows--who, by the way, is
about to be made a bishop of, now that he of ------ ------ has gone
to his account. Solomon, however, having been aware of the fines they
offered, _ex officio_, as the Law Agent, I thought the safest thing
was to let them go snacks. If, however, we could so manage, before Lord
Cumber's arrival, as to get him discarded, we might contrive to secure
the other farm also. The affair of the young woman, on which I rested
with a good deal of confidence, would, I am inclined to think, on second
consideration, rather raise him in that profligate Lord's esteem than
otherwise.”
“Why, did you not hear that he was publicly expelled from the
congregation?” said Phil; “and as to the history of Susanna, that's all
over the parish these two days. Her father brought the matter before the
congregation, and so far Solomon's hypocrisy is exposed.”
“In that case, then,” said Val, “something may be done yet. We must only
now endeavor to impress Lord Cumber with a strong sense of what is due
to public opinion, which would be outraged by having such a Law Agent
on his estate. Come, leave the matter to me, and we shall turn Solomon's
flank yet; I know he hates me, because I curtailed his pickings, by
adopting the system of not giving leases, unless to those on whom we
can depend. Besides, the little scoundrel has no political opinions
whatsoever, although an Orangeman.”
“Come, my old cock, no hypocrisy; what political opinions have you got?”
“Very strong ones, Phil.”
“What are they?--you hate the papists, I suppose?”
“Cursed stuff, Phil; the papists are as good as other people; but still
I hate them, Phil, because it's my interest to do so. A man that's not
an anti-papist now is nothing, and has no chance. No, Phil, I am not
without a political opinion, notwithstanding, and a strong one too.”
“What is it, then?”
“Here,” said he, laying his hand upon his breast, “here is my political
opinion. Valentine M'Glutchy, Phil, is my political creed, and my
religious one too.”
“After all,” replied Phil, “you are a chip of the old block.”
“Yes, Phil; but I don't parade it to the world as he does--and there's
the difference.”
“Well, thank heaven,” said the son, “I have no brains for any creed; but
I know I hate Popery and the Papists as I do the devil.”
“And that, Phil, is the enlightened sentiment upon which all bigotry and
mutual hatred between creeds is based. But you, Phil, could never be
so vexatious as a foe to Popery as I could--your very passions and
prejudices would occasionally obstruct you even in persecution--but I--I
can do it coolly, clearly, and upon purely philosophical principles.
I hate M'Loughlin upon personal principles--I hate the man, not his
religion; and here there must be passion: but in matters of religion,
Phil, there is nothing so powerful--so destructive--so lasting--so sharp
in persecution--and so successful, as a passionless resentment. That,
Phil, is the abiding and imperishable resentment of churches and creeds,
which has deluged the world with human blood.”
“Curse your philosophy, I don't understand it; when I hate, I hate--and
I'm sure I hate Popery, and that's enough.”