On the morning but one afterwards, John Purcel proceeded to the house of
his friend and neighbor, Fitzy O'Driscol, as he was usually termed for
brevity. O'Driscol was rather a small man--that is to say, he was short
but thick, and of full habit. He was naturally well made, and had
been considered well-looking, until his complexion became a good deal
inflamed from the effects of social indulgence, to which he was rather
strongly addicted. His natural manner would have been plausible if he
had allowed it to remain natural; but so far from this, he affected an
air of pomp and dignity, that savored very strongly of the mock heroic.
On the other side, his clothes fitted him very well, and as he had a
good leg and a neat small foot, he availed himself of every possible
opportunity to show them. He was, like most men of weak minds,
exceedingly fond of ornaments, on which account he had his fingers
loaded with costly rings, and at least two or three folds of a large
gold chain hung about his breast. His morning gown was quite a tasteful,
and even an expensive article, and his slippers, heavily embroidered,
harmonized admirably with the whole fashionable deshabille in which he
often distributed justice. He carried a gold snuff-box of very massive
size, which, when dining out, he always produced after dinner for the
benefit of the company, although he never took snuff himself. This, in
addition to a tolerably stiff and unreclaimable brogue, and a style
of pronunciation wofully out of keeping with his elegant undress,
constituted him the very beau-ideal of what is usually known as a
_shoneen_ magistrate.
John, on arriving, found him reading a paper in the breakfast-parlor,
and saw Hourigan waiting outside, who, by the way, gave him such a
look as a cat might be supposed to bestow upon a mastiff from whom she
dreaded an attack--a look which, in Hourigan's case, combined as much
ferocious vengeance and sullen hang-dog cowardice as could well be
brought together on the same features.
“Well, Jack,” said the pompous distributor of justice, addressing young
Purcel, “how do you do? Take a seat--by the way, is it true that your
father and my excellent friend, Dr. Turbot, were shot at yesterday?”
“True enough,” replied John; “the bullet whistled right between them,
and so close that each felt the wind of it.”
“The country is getting into a frightful state, friend Purcel, eh? Upon
my honor now, yes! it is so--it is so.”
“Why there is no question of it,” replied John; “it is already in a
frightful state.”
“It is, Mr. Purcel, and in my opinion, the _crame_ of the matter will be
blood--blood--my dear John--that is what it will come to.”
“Certainly you speak, Mr. O'Driscol, like a man that knows the country,
and can feel the pulse of the public officially--I mean, of course, as a
magistrate--for it is now, and in times of such turbulence, that men--I
mean magistrates--of your stamp--will prove themselves serviceable to
the government of the country, and to the country itself; intelligent
and determined men--I mean magistrates--who know not what fear is, and
who will do their duty at the risk of their lives.”
“True, John, it is such men, or rather magistrates, who can render
the most important services to government. The duties of a loyal and
attached magistrate are not a mere raycrayation during these times. And
yet, John,” he added, sinking his voice into a confidential whisper,
“I protest to my honor that the life of a man--I mane, as you say, a
magistrate--who resolves firmly to perform his duty, is not extramely
safe; why then should a man--I mane a magistrate--unnecessarily expose
himself to the fate of Going,* when he might much more safely remain
snug and quiet, without putting either himself or his neighbors to
inconvanience by an over-strict discharge of his duty?”
[* The name of a magistrate and clergyman, I think, who was
assassinated.]
“If everything be true that I have heard,” said John, “the government
would scarcely expect to hear such sentiments from the intelligent and
determined Mr. O'Driscol.”
“Ha! ha! ha!--well done, John,--I drew you out. Upon my honor, I am glad
to find that you are loyal, at all events, and that is a rare virtue
among most persons of your creed;--excuse me, but, except in name, I can
scarcely consider you as belonging to it.
“Why, sir,” replied John, “I trust I am a firm, but not a bigoted
Catholic.”
“Roman Catholic, John, always say, if you plaise; we claim to be the
true Catholics you know; and for that raison it is better always to
avoid confusion.”
“As to that, we shall not quarrel about it, I trust,” replied Purcel;
“but with respect to another point, there is only one opinion, Mr.
O'Driscol, and that is, that you are a most resolute and determined
man.”
“Magistrate you mane, I think, John; so magistrate, if you plaise--ha!
ha!' ha! By the way will you touch the bell? Thank you.”
“I beg your pardon,” proceeded Purcel, having touched the bell, “I
should have said magistrate: because it very often happens that
whilst the man is a coward, the magistrate is as brave as the Duke of
Wellington.”
“Upon my honor and conscience, there may be some truth in that,” said
O'Driscol, nodding, but at the same time not exactly appropriating the
category to himself; “but how do you make that appear, John?”
“Why,” replied Purcel, who, between ourselves, was a bit of a wag in his
way, “it proceeds from the spirit of his office. Take a magistrate, for
instance, as a man--a mere man; place him in the ordinary situations of
society; let him ride home at night, for instance, through a disturbed
district like this, which, if he is wise, he will avoid doing, or let
him be seen in an isolated position even in daylight without protection,
and you will find him a coward of the first shaking. On the contrary,
place him, as a magistrate, at the head of a body of police or military,
and where will you witness such courage? That, then, is the individual,
I say, who being naturally a coward as a man, goes through his duty
with courage as a magistrate; I say this is the individual whom the
government should reward with especial favor.”
“By the way, will you touch that bell again?--oh, here he comes. Sam,”
he said, addressing a servant, “get me up a bottle of soda-wather. Will
you have a glass of soda, John? I dipped a little too deep last night.”
“No, sir, thank you,” replied Purcel, “I was moderate last night; and at
all events soda is rather cold for such a day as this is.”
“Well, then can't you stiffen it with a little brandy?”
“No, thank you, I won't touch anything at present. I almost wish, as
I was saying,” he proceeded, “that there was the slightest touch of
cowardice in you, naturally; because if it could be proved in connection
with your official intrepidity, you would deserve everything that a
government could bestow upon you.”
“Faith and honor, that is certainly putting the argument in an extremely
new point of view, and I agree with you, John; that is--that--let me
see--the more cowardly the man the braver the magistrate. Well, I don't
know that aither.”
“No, no!” replied John, “I don't mean that.”
“Well, what do you mane? for I thought I undherstood you a while ago,
although find that I don't now.”
“I mean,” proceeded the other, “that when a man who is naturally
cowardly--I don't mean, of course, a poltroon, but timid--proves
himself to be firm, resolute, and intrepid in the discharge of his
duties as a magistrate, such a man deserves a civic crown.”
“A what?”
“A civic crown. Of course you know what that is.”
“Of coorse I do, John; and upon my honor and conscience there is great
truth in what you say. I could name you a magistrate who, I believe, as
a magistrate, could not very aisily be bate, and yet who, without being
a downright coward, is for all that no hairo to his valley de sham, as
they say.”
“My father was talking about you last night, sir, and I think before
long he will be able to put you on the scent of as pretty a conspiracy
as was ever detected. He had some notion of opening a communication with
government himself upon the subject; but I suggested--that is, I took
the liberty, sir, if you will excuse me, but if I erred I assure you Mr.
O'Driscol, my intentions were good--I say I took the liberty, sir, of
suggesting that it would be better to place the matter in your hands,
as a person possessing more influence with your friend, the Castle, and
more conversant with the management of a matter that is too important to
be in any but official hands. I have time at the preset only to allude
to it, for I see Mr. Darby Hourigan there waiting to prosecute, or as he
says to take the law of, your humble servant.”
“Hang the scoundrel, what a hurry he is in! How did you quarrel with
him?”
“Faith, sir, in the first place, he was insolent and offensive beyond
all patience.”
“Yes, my dear John,” observed O'Driscol, with a good deal of solemn
pomp, especially as the magistrate was beginning to supersede the man,
“all that is very provoking, but at the same time you know the horsewhip
is an illaygal instrument.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” replied Purcel, with a smile, “I believe not.”
“I mane, John,” said the other, “an improper use of it is. You should
be more cautious, John, in using it, for the punishment of any animal
barring a horse. I have heard, by the way, many complaints against you
on that head.”
“Yes, sir, but you are not aware that it is from a principle of humanity
I horsewhip the scoundrels.”
“How is that now, John? for upon my honor and conscience I can't for the
life of me persave any great humanity in it.”
“Why, sir,” replied Purcel, who, as the reader must be aware, was
humbugging the worthy magistrate all the time, “I appeal to yourself
whether it is not better for any one of these rascals to get a
horsewhipping from me than a citation to the Bishop's Court from my
father.”
“Ay, but do they never happen to get both, John?” returned the
magistrate. “But what has a horsewhipping and a citaytion to the
Bishop's Court to do with aich other?”
“Simply this,” replied the other, “that when my father hears I horsewhip
any of them, he takes no further proceedings against them; and
whenever I wish, consequently, to keep a fellow out of that troublesome
situation, I horsewhip him from pure kindness.”
“So that you look upon that as a good turn to them?”
“Precisely, sir. As I said, I horsewhip them from motives of humanity.”
“Faith and don't be surprised, John, if they should happen to put a
bullet through you from motives of humanity some of these days. However,
do you think it is of importance?”
“Is what, sir?”
“The conspiracy. I beg your pardon--come into the office till I see what
I can do for you at all events.”
He accordingly preceded Purcel to his office, accompanied by Sam
Finigan, a kind of thorough male domestic who acted as his clerk. Here
he took his seat with a good deal of ceremony, hemmed several times, and
desired Hourigan to be admitted. Just at that moment, and while Hourigan
was coming in, a young lad, or tiger, a son of Finigan's, by the
way, who had been in the habit of carrying letters to and from the
neighboring post-office, now entered and presented him with one, to the
following effect:--
“TO O'DRISKAL, THE SHONEEN MAGISTRIDGE.
“Sur this is to let you no that if you go an givin wan la for the poor
and anud'her for the rich you will soon get a bullet through you as
Tandrem af Tavnibeg got. If you wish to bay safe thin bay the poor man's
friend--oderways it'll be worse for you.
“Kaptn Jostige.”
O'Driscol having read this communication, became desperately disturbed
for about a couple of minutes, after which, as if struck by some sudden
thought, he appeared to recover himself considerably, but by no
means fully, as was evident from the agitation of his voice and the
involuntary tremor of his hands.
“I hope, sir,” said Purcel, who could not help observing the commotion
into which the notice had put him, “that you have received no ill
tidings. You seem agitated and alarmed, or rather distressed, if one can
judge; I hope there's nothing wrong.”
“Why, no,” replied the magistrate, “not exactly wrong; but it is
certainly an infamous country to live in. I am an impartial man, Mr.
Purcel--I mane, sir, an impartial magistrate; but the fact is, sir,
that every man is marked whose life is valuable to the government of his
country. I know no man, Mr. Purcel--mark me you, too, Hourigan--I know
no man, sir, in my capacity of a magistrate--hem--hem!--only according
to the merits--I am as much the poor man's friend as I am the rich
man's, and of the two more: if I lane at all, which I don't, it is to
the poor man; but as an impartial man--magistrate I mane--I know naither
rich or poor. On the bench, I say, I know naither poverty nor riches,
barring, as I said, upon the merits.”
“Beggin' your pardon, your worship--an' before you begin--as I was
comin' down here a while agone,” said Hourigan, “I seen a strange and
suspicious-lookin' man inside the hedge at the shrubbery below; he was
an ill-faced villain, plaise your reverence, an' I thought I seen his
pockets stickin' out as if he had pistols in them. I thought it better
to tell your worship.”
The worthy magistrate had scarcely recovered from the first fit of
agitation when this intelligence threw him into an immediate relapse.
Indeed so ludicrous was his distress that he actually wiped the
perspiration from his forehead.
“Sam,” said he, after a fit of tremulous coughing, into which he forced
himself, in order to conceal the quaver which terror had given to his
voice, “Sa--am--hugh! ugh!--go-o--an-n-d--ugh! ugh! ugh!--get a ca-a-se
of doub-uble pis-pistols--ugh! ugh!--da--amn this cough--ough--and
place--them-em on the table here--we--we--will at least pep-pepper the
villain--if--if--he--he should dare to show his face---ace. I
trust I--I--know my duties as--a mag-istrate--my cour--urage and
in-trep--id--ity as such--ugh! ijg'h! ugh!--are no saycret now, I
think.”
“I don't believe,” observed Purcel, “that there is one syllable of
truth in what he says. I can read the falsehood in his eye. However,”
he added, “if you will postpone this matter of Hourigan's for a few
minutes, I shall soon see whether there is any one there or not.”
“Here, then,” said the magistrate, “take these pistols” (pointing to
those which Finigan had just laid on the table). Purcel declined them
with a nod, taking a good case at the same time out of his own pocket.
“No, sir, thank you, I never travel without my two friends here, with
either of which I can break a bottle at the distance of thirty yards.
You will be good enough to tell that to your friends, Mr. Hourigan, and
also to reflect upon it yourself.”
Having examined his friends, as he called them, he started out and
proceeded directly towards the shrubbery, where, however, there was no
trace whatever of any one. On his way home he met Fergus O'Driscol, who
had been out that morning cock-shooting through the grounds, and to whom
he mentioned the story told by Hourigan. “Why, the lying scoundrel,”
exclaimed Fergus, “I saw him myself speaking to a new laboring lad whom
Mr. Arthur, the steward, sent in there this morning to gather and remove
the rotten underwood. He has only vamped up this story to frighten my
heroic father, and between you and me it is not difficult to do.”
“I dare say you are right, Fergus, but between you and me again, who is
this new-comer you mention? for you may rest assured that if he be
very intimate with Darby Hourigan, you had as good keep an eye upon him.
Darby is one of the good ones.”
“I don't even know his name yet,” replied Fergus, “but if we are
to judge by appearances, he is somewhat of Darby's kidney, for a
worse-looking young vagabond I have seldom laid my eyes upon. At all
events I know Hourigan's story to be a lie, for as he came up the avenue
I was in the shrubbery, looking for a cock I shot, which dropped among
the hollies, and there was certainly nobody there but this strange
fellow and Hourigan, both of whom chatted to each other for some
minutes across the hedge; and, by the way, I now remember that they kept
watching about them suspiciously, as if they did not wish to be seen
speaking together. The fact, now that you have mentioned the case, is
evident; I could not be deceived in this matter.”
“Well then,” said Purcel, “I will tell you how we shall bring that
circumstance to a test: get the strange fellow to walk my horse up and
down the avenue, so as that he must necessarily come in Hourigan's way,
and if they refuse to speak in my presence you may accompany me down
the avenue if you wish--we may take it for granted that there is an
understanding between them and on this account we will say nothing on
our return, but that we failed to see or trace any one, which will be
the truth, you know.”
Whilst this conversation took place between the two young men, our
worthy magistrate, now that he had an opportunity of recruiting his
courage, withdrew for a moment, accompanied by his servant and clerk,
Sam Finigan. “Sam,” said he, in undisguised trepidation, “my life's not
worth a week's purchase.”
“That was a threatening letter you received, sir?” said Sam,
inquiringly.
“The same, Sam. Upon my honor and conscience, they have threatened me
with the fate of Tandrem of Tavnibeg, who got five bullets into him, not
fifty yards from his own door. Get me the brandy then quick, and another
bottle of soda-wather. Good Lord! Sam, see what it is to be an active
and determined magistrate.”
“Well,” said Sam, after he had placed the brandy and soda-water before
him, “it's one comfort, plaise your honor, that if they shoot your
worship, government will take a glorious revenge upon them. The three
kingdoms will hear of it.”
“Ay, but, Sam--good Lord!--here's God grant us a long life in the
manetime! but upon my honor and conscience it's not revenge upon my own
murdherers I want, but to be made a Stipendiary. Revenge! Good Lord!
what is revenge to a murdhered man, Sam, maybe with five bullets in him!
Now, Sam, this is not want of courage in me--but--but--mere distress
of mind on looking at the state of the country. A suspicious-looking
villain to be lurking in my own shrubbery, with the very pistols
sticking out of his pocket! Good Lord! I believe I'll take another
half-glass, Sam; I think I feel somewhat more intrepid--more relieved.
Yes, pour me out another half-glass, or a whole one, as your hand is in,
Sam, and take another for yourself.”
“Thank your worship,” said Sam, who never called him anything else when
exercising, or about to exercise his functions as a magistrate, “here's
the same, your worship--God grant us both--your worship at any rate--a
long life!”
“And a happy death, Sam; there is no harm to add that to it.”
“And a happy death, your worship!”
“Well, Sam, here's the same! And now I think in a few minutes my natural
courage will return; for indeed I'm too kind-hearted, Sam, and too
aisily made feel, as you persave, for the traisonable state of the
country, and of the misguided people. However, I only feel these things
as a man, Sam, as a kind-hearted man, but not as a fearless and resolute
magistrate, Sam: as a magistrate I don't know what fear is.”
“That's well known, your worship; when you're at the head of a body
of polis or military, every one knows what you are; isn't dare-devil
Driscol, your worship, the best name they have for you?”
“True enough, Sam; d--n them; a man, especially a magistrate, couldn't
be courageous unknown to them--they'll be sure to find it out. I'm a
good deal relieved, Sam, and--hem--hem--let us proceed to investigate
this important matter of Hourigan's. These Purcels are--hem--ahem--too
much in the habit of violating the law, Sam, and that's not right--it's
illaygal--it's illay-gal, Sam, to violate the law; I say so, and I think
I can't allow such breaches of the”--here, however, the thought of the
conspiracy occurred, and swayed him in a moment against Hourigan. “To be
sure Hourigan's a scoundrel, and deserves a horsewhipping every day he
rises.”
“True enough, sir; and sure if the Purcels break the law, it is only
upon the people, and arn't the people, your worship, as ready to break
the law as the Purcels! Sorra warrant, then, I'd grant against Misther
John this bout.”
“And what would you do, Sam?”
“I'd bind Hourigan over to keep the pace.”
“I believe you're right, Sam; he's a bad bird, Hourigan; so I think the
best thing to do is to tie his hands up for him.”
“And if we could tie his tongue up too, your worship, it ought to be
done.”
Here, on the other hand, the notice he had just received stuck in his
throat, and reduced him to a new perplexity.
“But then, Sam,” he added, “think of the revengeful spirit that is
abroad. Good Lord! it is awful! Haven't I this moment a threatening
notice on my table? Well,” he added, “if ever a man suffered in the
cause of government as a public man and an active resolute magistrate,
I do; indeed, Sam, if I had known the cares, and troubles, and
responsibilities of my official situation, I am not certain whether I
would not have preferred a private station; but you see government will
find out men of talent and public spirit. If I had less of either, it
isn't threatening letters I'd be resaving this day. Come, then, let us
go to the discharge of our duty, Sam, fearlessly and impartially, as a
man entrusted with great public authority.”
He accordingly proceeded to the office, a good deal recruited in
courage by the brandy, but by no means altogether relieved from the
apprehensions consequent upon the receipt of the notice and Hourigan's
narrative.
Fergus and Purcel, on their way from the shrubbery to the house,
fell upon a simpler plan by which to detect Hourigan's falsehood,
and ascertain whether there existed any personal acquaintance or
understanding of any sort between him and the new-comer.
“Well, John,” said O'Driscol, after once more placing himself with his
usual pomp in his magisterial chair, “have you been able to find any
account or trace of the assassin?”
“None whatever, sir,” replied Purcel; “neither tale nor tidings of him
could I find.”
“When did you see him, Hourigan?” asked Fergus; “was it on your way
here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In the avenue?”
“In the avenue, sir, about fifty yards inside the hedge, jist opposite
the hollies.”
“Why did you not speak to him?”
“Troth, sir, he had too suspicious a look; for how did I know but it's a
bullet I'd get into, me, if I was only seen obsarvin' or watchin' him?”
“Then you did not speak to him?” asked Fergus.
“Faith, you may swear that, sir; that is not the time to pick up strange
acquaintances.”
The two young friends were now satisfied of Hourigan's falsehood, and
perhaps of his treachery; and a very slight but significant glance to
that effect passed between them.
“Well, well,” said the magistrate, “we--I mane myself, at any rate--are
well able to protect ourselves. I shall not in future travel unarmed,
and he that--hem--ahem--he that will mistake me for a timid man will
find out his error maybe when it's too late. Come, Hourigan, what charge
is this you have against Mr. Purcel?”
“Plaise your honor, he abused, and assaulted, and bate me until I didn't
know for a time whether I was alive or dead.”
“How was that, Hourigan, sir?”
“Bekaise, your honor, I had not my tides for him.”
“Now that I look at you, you certainly have the marks of violence about
you. Well, but did you give no provocation, sir? It's not likely
Mr. Purcel would raise his hand to you if he had not resaved strong
provocation at yours.”
“Sorra word, then, your honor, ever I said to him,--barrin' to tell him
that I hoped he'd have compassion on me and my little family, and not
drive us to ruin for what I wasn't able to pay. He then asked me, was
that the answer I had for him, and not his money, and he does no more
but ups wid his whip and laves me as you see me.”
“Why, now, you d--d scoundrel!” exclaimed John, “how can you--”
“Pardon me, Mr. Purcel,” said the magistrate, interrupting him with what
he intended to be dignity, “you forget what is due to the court, sir.
There must be no swearing nor abuse here. The court must be respected,
Mr. Purcel.”
These words brought a sneer of secret triumph upon Hourigan's features,
that was unquestionably very provoking.
“I beg to apologize to the court,” replied Purcel, “if for a moment I
have forgotten what is due to it; but, in fact, your worship, there is
not one word of truth in what he says. His language was insolent and
provoking beyond the limits of human patience. He told me that both my
father and myself were dishonest--that we were oppressors of the poor,
and blood-suckers; called us hardhearted and beggarly upstarts, and that
we would sell our Church and our country for filthy lucre and upstart
pride. Instead, your worship, of promising to pay his tithes, he said we
might go to hell for them, and make the devil our paymaster, what he'll
be yet. And further, he said he'd never pay a farthing of them, and set
law, lawyers, police, military, and magistrates all at open defiance.
Now I beg to know, your worship, what loyal and peaceably-disposed
man, that wishes to see the laws of his country, and those respectable
magistrates that administer them, respected--what man, I say, fond of
peace and quietness, could bear such language as that? It is not what he
said of either myself or my family that I contain of, but of the abuse
he heaped upon the law at large, and the independent magistrates of the
country. I certainly, in the heat of the moment, so far resented the
affront offered to the most respectable magistracy of this fine country
as to give him a few slight touches of the whip, more like one in jest,
I assure your worship, than like an angry man.”
“Hourigan,” said O'Driscol, swelling up to a state of the most pompous
indignation, “this is infamous conduct which he relates of you, sir. How
dare you, sir, or any impudent fellow like you, take the undaicent and
unjustifiable liberty of abusing the independent and loyal magistracy of
Ireland? It is by fellows like you, sir, that traison and sedition are
hatched. Your conduct was gross and monstrous, and if Mr. Purcel had
come to me and made affidavit of the language stated, I would have
consithered it my duty to commit you. Such language, sirra, was
seditious!”
“Yes,” replied Hourigan, “and you would be right; but there is not one
word of truth in what Mr. Purcel says, your worship; for instead of
that, plaise your reverence, when I threatened to come to you to get the
law against him--'I'll go to Squire Driscol,' says I, 'and that's
the gintleman that will give me justice at any rate.' 'You and Squire
Driscol may go be hanged,' says he; 'I don't regard him a traneen; he
thinks, since he has been made into a justice of pace, that the ground's
not worthy to carry him,' says he. Can you deny that, Mr. John?”
Purcel's limbs began to move, and his very flesh to creep with
indignation at the impudent but artful falsehoods of Hourigan, who was
likely to succeed in touching the magistrate's weak points with such
effect as to gain him over to his side.
The worthy official shook his head with a kind of very high-minded
pride, as much as to say, I am far above the level of such observations.
“Mr. Purcel,” said he--“he--hem--hem--I am sorry to hear that you could
give way to such extramely indiscreet and disrespectful language as
this.”
“Swear him, sir,” said Purcel, “and let him be put to his oath, for I
protest to heaven, Mr. O'Driscol, and as I am, I trust, an honest man,
I never once mentioned your name, nor was there the slightest allusion
made to it--none, sir, whatever.”
“The truth is, I should think it very, strange, Mr. Purcel, and very
odd, and very unfriendly and disenganious in you to spake of any
magistrate in such a style as that. However, Sam, take the book and
swear Hourigan.”
Sam accordingly took the book, and putting it into Hourigan's hand,
said, “You shall make true answers to such questions as shall be put to
you, and swear the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,
so help you God, and one-and-sixpence to me!”
“Never mind the one-and-sixpence at present, Sam,” said his master, “he
owes you nothing now. Proceed.”
Hourigan's thumb had the genuine angle on the back of the book, but it
did not escape Sam, who said, “You intend to kiss your thumb, Hourigan,
but it's no go; here, sir, stand there, so that the book won't be a
screen for you; turn round--there now--proceed.”
Hourigan, finding that the evasion in this instance was impracticable,
gave it a strong, derisive smack that might be heard outside the room.
“I hope,” he added, “you are satisfied now, Mr. Finigan.”
“I see,” replied Sam, “that you've kissed the book when you were made to
do it; but I see jist as clearly that the sorra much truth are we goin'
to get out of yoU.”
The case then proceeded; but as it would prove, probably, rather
tiresome to the generality of our readers, we shall not give it at
length. It was quite evident, however, that the plaintiff and defendant
both were well acquainted with the vacillating and timid character of
the magistrate, who in the case before us was uniformly swayed by the
words of the last speaker; and it was equally evident that each speaker
so shaped his arguments as that they might the more effectually bear
upon O'Driscol's weak points.
“Hem--hem--this, I persave, turns out to be a very important and
difficult case, Mr. Purcel--a very difficult case, Hourigan--a--a--a
case indeed that requires great deliberation and coolness. Here is
strong provocation on one hand, and prompt punishment on the other. Can
you swear, Mr. Purcel, to the accuracy and substance of the language you
say Hourigan uttered?”
“Certainly, sir, without hesitation.”
“Because if he does, Hourigan, I shall be obliged, according to Act of
Parliament, sir--”
Hourigan interrupted him by a groan, and a rather significant shrug.
“What do you shrug and groan for, sir?” asked the man of law, who felt
both acts incompatible with the respect due to the court.
“Mavrone!” exclaimed Hourigan, “acts of Parliament! oh! thin many a
bitther piece of cruelty and injustice has been practised upon us by Act
o' Parliament!”
“Ho, you traisonable villain!” exclaimed the other--“what sedition is
this?”
“It is sich Acts o' Parliament,” said the adroit knave, “that gets
good men and good magistrates shot like dogs, an' that has brought the
counthry to the fearful pass it's in, I wisht myself I was out of it,
for the people is beginnin' to single out sich magistrates as they'll
shoot, as if their lives worn't worth a rat's.”
“Ah!--hem--hem--Hourigan, you are a d--d ras--hem simple-hearted fellow,
I think, or you wouldn't spake as you do.
“But an I to get not justice sir, against the man that left me as you
see me. Is the poor man, sir, to be horse-whipped and cut up at the will
an' pleasure of the rich, an'not to get either law or justice?”
O'Driscol's face was now a picture of most ludicrous embarrassment and
distress.
“Certainly, Hourigan, I shall--hem--I shall always administer justice
impartially--impartially--no one can question that. Your case,” he
added--(for we must say here that Hourigan's language brought back to
his mind all the horrors of Tandrem's death, as well as that threatened
to himself in the recent notice)--“your case, Hourigan is a difficult
and peculiar one, poor man!”
“Hourigan, my good fellow,” said Purcel, “take care of what you are
about. Don't be too certain that some of your neighbors won't find you,
before you are much older, in the centre of a deep-laid conspiracy; and
perhaps the government of the country may have an opportunity before
long to thank and reward those who will have it exposed and broken up.
Do you understand me?”
Purcel, while he spoke, kept his eyes fixed very significantly upon the
magistrate, to whose imagination a long and interesting correspondence
with his friend, the Castle, started immediately forth, appended to
which were votes of thanks, flattering testimonies, together with a
stipendiary magistracy, with a full retiring pension, and an appointment
for his son, in the background.
“He has made use of that language to intimidate your worship,” proceeded
Purcel, but I think he ought to know you better.”
“Sir,” said O'Driscol, addressing Hourigan, “what did you mane by
talking about shooting magistrates? Do you think, sirrah, to frighten
me--Fitzgerald O'Driscol--from discharging my duty?”
“Frighten, you, sir! oh! bedad, your honor, you aren't the gintleman for
that.”
“No, sir, I believe not--I believe not, Hourigan; no, my poor man, I am
not indeed. Hourigan, you are not an uncivil person, but why refuse to
pay your tithes? You are well able to do it.”
“Why, bekaise I daren't, sir; if I did--talkin' about shootin'--it's
a round lump of lead I would find in my stomach instead o' my poor
breakfast, some o' these days.”
“I don't doubt but he is right enough there, your worship,” observed
Purcel, “there's a conspiracy--”
“Yes,” exclaimed the magistrate, “oh! ay!--yes!--hem--a conspiracy!
Well--no matter--let it rest for a little. Well--as this case is one
of great difficulty, involving several profound points of law, I would
recommend you to make it up, and be friends. Hourigan, you will forgive
Mr. Purcel, who is hasty but generous. You will forgive him, I say, and
he will give you something in the shape of a--salve for your wounds.
Come, forgive him, Hourigan, and I will overlook, on my part, the
seditious language you used against the Irish magistracy; and, besides,
you will make me your friend.”
“Forgive him, sir!” said Hourigan, shrugging himself, and putting up his
hand to feel the welts of black and blue which intersected each other
upon his countenance and shoulders. “An' maybe it's half-a-crown he'll
threwn me.”
“No, no, Hourigan, I'll guarantee for him that he'll treat you
liberally: one good turn deserves another, you know.”
“Well, then, let him say what he'll give me.”
“There's a pound-note for you,” said Purcel, flinging it across the
table. “If you take that, you may, but if not, I'll give no more.
Your worship, this, you perceive, is cross-case, and if you receive
examination on the one side, you will, of course, upon the other?”
“True,” replied O'Driscol, who had not thought of this, and who
seized upon it as a perfect relief to him; “true, Mr. Purcel, it is a
cross-case, and so I understand it. Let me recommend you to take the
money, Hourigan.”
“Well, then, your honor, I will, on your account, and bekaise, as your
worship says, bekaise one good tarn desarues another, an' ought to get
it. I'm satisfied for the present.” And as he spoke, he turned, in a
skulking, furtive manner, such a look upon Purcel as we will not attempt
to describe.
“Now, Hourigan,” said O'Driscol, “I am glad I have settled this matter
in your favor. If I had taken Mr. Purcel's informations, you would have
certainly been transported; but the truth is, and I trust you have
seen it this day, and will allow it, that in my magisterial capacity,
although just and impartial I hope, yet, still, whenever I can with
raison, I am always disposed to lane towards the poor man, and be the
poor man's magistrate--hem--ahem!”
“Yes, plaise your honor,” said Hourigan, rather drily, “but it's so hard
to make the people at large believe the truth, sir. Good-mornin',
your worship, an' many thanks for the illigant justice you gave me.
Good-mornin' you, too, Misther Purcel; I hope we'll be betther friends,
sir.”
“And I hope you will pay your tithes, and keep a civiler tongue in your
head,” replied the latter, as Hourigan left the office.
Before this weighty matter was determined, Fergus O'Driscol, although
satisfied that Hourigan and their new laborer were acquainted, resolved
to corroborate his evidence of the fact, if possible, and for this
purpose he sent the fellow, as had been agreed on, to walk Purcel's
horse up and down the lower part of the avenue, near the entrance gate,
which was somewhat secluded and not within view of the house, for the
avenue was a winding one. In the meantime he stationed himself in a
clump of trees, to which he went by a back walk in the shrubbery that
was concealed from that part of the avenue. Here, we say, he stationed
himself to watch these worthies, but, unfortunately, at too great a
distance to hear their conversation, should they speak and recognize
each other. On this subject he was not permitted to remain long in
suspense. Hourigan soon made his appearance, and, on approaching the
stringer, looked cautiously about him in every direction, whilst the
latter, who had been walking Purcel's horse towards the house, suddenly
turned back, and kept conversing with Hourigan until they reached the
entrance gate, where they stood for about ten minutes in close and
evidently confidential dialogue, as was clear from their watching in all
directions, to make certain that they were not observed. They then
shook hands, cordially, and Hourigan bent his steps towards the town of
Lisnagola. Fergus, who had seen all their motions most distinctly, took
occasion to pass up the avenue a few minutes afterwards, where he met
the stranger still leading Purcel's horse.
“What's your name, my good fellow?” he asked.
“Phil Hart, sir.”
“Do you know if the man who summoned Mr. Purcel before my father has
gone out?”
“I don't know, plaise your honor.”
“Did any person go out within the last few minutes?”
“Yes, sir, there went a man out; maybe it was him.”
“You don't know Hourigan's appearance, then?”
“No, sir. Hourigan, was that his name?”
“Yes. Are you a native of this county?”
“Not exactly, sir; but I have friends in it.”
“Who are they?”
“The Ahernes, sir, up in the mountains behind Lisnagola beyant.”
“And who recommended you to Mr. Arthur?”
“His brother-in-law, sir, one Frank Finnerty, in the mountains above;
that is, they're both marrid upon the two shisthers, plaise your honor.”
“And what caused you to leave your native place?”
“Why, sir, my father houlds a bit o' land; he owed some tithe, sir,
and--”
“Would not pay it; they consequently took proceedings--you resisted the
execution of the law, and then you had to run for it.”
“Well, not exactly, sir.”
“How was it, then?”
“Why, sir, we paid the tithes; an' whin this was discovered, I, at any
rate, had to run for it. The people, your honor, found out that it was I
that ped them, an' I was glad, of coorse, to fly for my life. I'd thank
you, sir, to keep what I tould you to yourself, for even if it was known
in this neighborhood that I ped them, I wouldn't be safe.”
“You don't know Hourigan, then?”
“How could I, sir, and me a sthranger?”
“Faith, and whether you do or not, it seems to me there's a strong
family likeness between you and him.”
“Maybe so,” the fellow replied, with a grin. “I hear my father say that
he sartinly was down in this counthry when he was sowin' his wild oats:”
and with this observation he passed on with the horse he was leading.