"Ben, my boy, you are approaching the home of your ancestors," exclaimed
Pat Brady, who was seated on the box of the old battered yellow
post-chaise, on the roof of which I had perched myself, while my poor
mother sat in solitude inside. "They are an honoured race, and mighty
respected in the country. You will see the top of the ould Castle
before long if you keep a bright look-out, and a hearty welcome we'll be
after getting when they see us all arrive in this dignified way--just
like a great foreign ambassador going to court. It is a fine counthry
this of ours, Ben, barring the roads, which put us too much in mind of
our run home in the `Porpoise'. But we have mighty fine hills, Ben. Do
you see them there? And lakes and streams full of big trout, and
forests. But the bogs, Ben, they beat them all. If it was not for them
bogs, where should we all be? Then the roads might be worse, Ben. Hold
on there, lad, or you will be sent into the middle of next week. But
Ben, my boy, as the song says:--
"`If you'd seen but these roads before they were made,
You would have lift up your hands and blessed General Wade'."
Thus Pat continued running on as he had been doing the whole of our
journey. It was certainly hard work holding on at the top of the
chaise, as it went pitching and rolling, and tumbling about over the
ill-formed path, which scarcely deserved the name of a road. Still
every now and then I sprang to my feet to look out for the castle which
he talked about. I had seen of late a good many castles on the coast of
the Mediterranean, Gibraltar, and Malta besides. I had some idea that
Rincurran Castle must be a very fine place.
"Arrah! Ben, and there it is as large as life. Sure it's a grand
mansion, barring it's a little out of repair!" shouted Pat, as, turning
an angle of the road, we came in sight of a tall, stone, dilapidated
building, with a courtyard in front, and two round pillars on either
side of the entrance-gate. The pigs had possession of the chief part of
the yard, which was well littered for their accommodation, leaving but a
narrow way up to the entrance-door.
I quickly scrambled down from the roof to assist Pat Brady in helping my
mother out of the chaise. Poor dear, overcome by her feelings, she was
leaning back, almost fainting, and scarcely able to move. At length the
door opened, and an old gentleman appeared in a scratch wig, with an
ominously red nose, and clothed in a costume which, in its condition,
greatly resembled his habitation. An old lady followed him, somewhat
more neatly dressed, who, on seeing my mother, hastened to the door to
receive her.
"What! Is this our daughter Mary?" exclaimed the old gentleman; "and
that young spalpeen, can that be her boy?" he added, looking at me in a
way which did not seem to argue much affection.
"Of course it is, Mat; and is it you, Mat, the head of the Dwyers, not
remembering your childer?" exclaimed the old lady, casting on him a
scornful glance. On this my grandfather gave my mother a paternal kiss,
a repetition of which I avoided by slipping round on the other side,
where Pat caught me, and presented me to the old lady. She then took me
in her arms and gave me an affectionate embrace. The tears dropped from
her eyes as she looked at my mother's pale countenance and widow's
dress.
"I don't ask what has happened, Mary," she said; "but though the one for
whom you forsook all is gone, you are welcome back to the old home,
child."
"Ay, that you are, Mary!" exclaimed my grandfather, warming up a little.
"To be sure, grand as it once was, it has been inclined for many a day
to be tumbling about our ears. But it will last my day, and there is
small chance of your brothers, Jim, or Pat, or Terence, ever wishing to
come and stop here, even if it's living they are when I am put under the
green turf."
While Pat was settling with the post-boy, my grandmother conducted my
mother and me into the parlour. The more elegant portions of furniture,
if they ever existed, had disappeared, and a table, with a number of
wooden-bottomed chairs and a huge ill-stuffed sofa, were all that
remained. A picture of my grandfather in a hunting-suit, and a few
wretched daubs, part of them of sporting scenes and part of saints,
adorned the walls. Such was the appearance of the chief room in
Rincurran Castle. My aunts were not at home, two of them having ridden
to market, and the others being on a visit to some neighbours. At
length two of them came riding up on rough, ungroomed ponies, with
baskets on their arms. Having taken off the saddles, they sent their
animals to find their way by themselves into the open stable, while they
entered the house to greet my mother. They were not ill-looking women,
with rather large features, and fine eyes, but as unlike my mother as
could well be. So also were my other two aunts, who shortly after came
in. They all, however, gave their sister Mary a hearty welcome, and,
with better tact than might have been expected, made no inquiries about
her husband, her dress showing them that he was gone. I found that she
had been brought up by a sister of her mother's--a good Protestant
woman, residing near Cork, where my father had met her. My grandfather
was a Romanist, though my grandmother still remained as she had
originally been, a Protestant. The rest of her daughters attended the
Romish chapel. My mother had not been at home since she was quite a
girl, and I soon found had entirely forgotten her family's way of
living, and their general habits and customs. She therefore very soon
began to regret that she had not accepted Lieutenant Schank's invitation
to visit his family. Pat Brady made himself very agreeable to his
cousins, and had such wonderful stories to tell them that he was a great
favourite. I had plenty to amuse me; but there seemed very little
probability of my getting the education which Captain Oliver had
recommended. The castle also was not over well provisioned, potatoes
and buttermilk forming the staple of our meals, with an over-abundance
of pork whenever a pig was killed; but as it was necessary to sell the
better portions of each animal to increase the family income, the supply
was only of an intermittent character. My grandfather made up for the
deficiency by copious potations of whisky; but as my mother objected to
my following his example, I was frequently excessively hungry. I was
not surprised therefore that my uncles did not often pay the paternal
mansion a visit; they all considering themselves above manual labour, in
consequence of being sons of a squireen, were living on their wits in
various parts of the world, so I concluded from the bits of information
I picked up about them.
I could not help remarking the contrast between Rincurran Castle and Mr
Schank's neat little cottage in Lincolnshire--the cleanliness and
comfort of one, and the dirt and disorder and discomfort of my
grandfather's abode. My mother, who had sufficient means to live
comfortably by herself, had had no intention of remaining long with her
parents, but had purposed taking a cottage in the neighbourhood. When
she discovered the state of things at home she had offered to assist in
the household expenses, and having done this her family were doubly
anxious to retain her. As however, she found it impossible to mend
matters, she resolved to carry out her original intention. The search
for a house was an object of interest. In a short time she discovered
one at the further end of Ballybruree, which, if not perfection, was
sufficient to satisfy her wishes. Here, at the end of a couple of
months, she removed, in spite of the disinterested entreaties of her
relatives that she should take up her permanent abode with them. Her
health soon improved, and I grew fatter than I had been since I landed
on the shores of old Ireland.
Our new abode, though very much smaller than Rincurran Castle, was
considerably neater, yet not altogether such as would be considered tidy
in England. The roof was water-tight, and the chimneys answered their
object of carrying up the smoke from the fire beneath. The view from
the front window was extensive, ranging down the broad and unpaved
street, along which I could watch the boys chasing their pigs to market,
seated on the hinder parts of donkeys, urging them forward by the blows
of their shillalahs. Now and then we enjoyed the spectacle of a
marriage party returning from the chapel, at the further end of the
street, or still more boisterous funeral procession; when, of course, as
Pat Brady observed, "It 'ud be showing small honour to the decased if
all the mourners weren't respectably drunk, barring the praist, and bad
luck to him if he could not stand up steady at the end of the grave.
Sure he couldn't have a head for his office."
Such, however, as was our new house, my poor mother was glad to get it.
We had been located there two or three weeks, and my mother had now time
to give me some instruction in the arts of reading and writing. She was
thus engaged, leaning over the book placed on her lap by the side of
which I stood, when we were startled by a voice which said, "Top of the
morning to you, Mistress Burton."
We looked up, and there stood in the doorway a rubicund-nosed gentleman,
in a green coat and huge wonderfully gay coloured cravat, leather
breeches, and top-boots, with a hunting-whip under his arm, a peony in
his buttonhole, and a white hat which he flourished in his right hand,
while he kept scraping with his feet, making his spurs jingle.
"Your servant, Mistress Burton. It is mighty touching to the heart to
see a mother engaged as you are, and faith I would not have missed the
sight for a thousand guineas, paid down on the nail. Ah! Mistress
Burton, it reminds me of days gone by, but I won't say I have no hopes
that they will ever return," and our visitor twisted his eyes about in
what I thought a very queer way, trying to look sentimental.
"To what cause do I owe this visit, Mr Gillooly?" asked my mother,
perhaps not altogether liking his looks, for I rather think his feelings
had been excited by a few sips of potheen. Her natural politeness,
however, induced her to rise and offer him a chair, into which, after a
few more scrapes and flourishes of the hat, he sank down, placing his
beaver and his whip upon it by his side.
"It is mightily you bring to my mind my dear departed Mistress
Gillooly," he exclaimed, looking very strangely I thought at my mother.
"She was the best of wives, and if she was alive she would be after
telling you that I was the best of husbands, but she has gone to glory,
and the only little pledge of our affection has gone after her; and so,
Mistress Burton, I am left a lone man in this troublesome world. And
sure, Mrs Burton, the same is your lot I am after thinking, but there
is an old saying, `Off with the old love and on with the new;' and, oh!
Mistress Burton, it would be a happy thing if that could come true
between two people I am thinking of."
My mother might have thought this very plain speaking, but she pretended
not to understand Mr Gillooly, and made no answer.
"Is it silence gives consent?" he exclaimed at last with one of those
queer turns of his eyes, stretching out his hands towards my mother.
"Really, Mr Gillooly, seeing I have been a widow scarcely a year, and
have seen but little of you at my father's house, I cannot help thinking
this is strange language for you to use. I loved my husband, and I only
wish to live for the sake of our boy, and I hope this answer will
satisfy you."
"But when you have seen more of me, Mistress Burton, ye'll be after
giving a different answer," exclaimed our visitor. "Ye'll be after
making a sweet mistress for Ballyswiggan Hall, and it's there I'd like
to see ye, in the place of the departed Molly Gillooly. It was the last
words she said to me--`Ye'll be after getting another partner when I'm
gone, Dominic, won't ye now?' and I vowed by all the holy saints that I
would obey her wishes, though to be plain with you, Mistress Burton, I
little thought I could do so to my heart's content, as I did when I
first set my eyes on your fair countenance."
Much more to the same effect did Mr Gillooly utter, without, however, I
have reason to believe, making any impression on my mother's heart.
Without rudeness she could not get rid of him; and he, believing that he
was making great way in her affection, was in no wise inclined to
depart. Mr Gillooly, I may remark, was a friend of my grandfather's, a
squireen, with a mansion of similar description to Rincurran Castle,
though somewhat less dilapidated. His property enabled him to keep a
good horse, drink whisky, wear decent clothes, attend all wakes,
marriages, and fairs, and other merrymakings, and otherwise lead a
completely idle life. Mr Gillooly's visit had extended to a somewhat
unconscionable length, when a rap was heard at the door, and my mother
told me to run and open it; observing as she did so, "It's not all
people who so want manners as not to knock before they intrude into a
lone woman's house."
This severe remark of my gentle mother showed me that she was by this
time considerably annoyed by our visitor's continued presence. The
person who now entered wore a brown suit, with a low crowned hat on the
top of his curled wig. I recognised him as Mr Timothy Laffan, one of
the lawyers of Ballybruree. Though short, he was a broad-shouldered,
determined-looking man, with a nose which could scarcely be more
flattened than it was, and twinkling grey eyes which looked out
knowingly from under his shaggy eyebrows. He cast an inquisitive glance
round, and then, paying his respects to my mother, took the seat which I
had brought him.
"A good boy, Ben," he said, patting my head. "I came to see how you
were getting on in your new house, Mrs Burton, as is my duty as a
neighbour. Your servant, Mr Gillooly. I was after thinking that the
next time you came into Ballybruree ye would be giving me a call to
settle about that little affair. There's nothing like the present time,
and may be you will stop at my office as you go by, and arrange the
matter offhand."
The lawyer's eyes twinkled as he spoke. Mr Gillooly began to fidget in
his chair, and his countenance grew redder and redder. He cast a glance
at his whip and hat. Suddenly seizing them, he paid a hurried adieu to
my mother, and turning to the lawyer, added, "Your servant, Tim Laffan.
I will be after remembering what you say"; and away he bolted out of the
door.
I almost expected to hear the lawyer utter a crow of victory, for his
comical look of triumph clearly showed his feelings. I had reason to
believe that he also was a suitor for the hand of my mother, but I do
not think he gained much by his stratagem. Her feelings were aroused
and irritated, and at length he also took his departure, after
expressing a tender interest in her welfare.