"'I tell you I ought to have kicked the rascal out,' said Phil, getting into a passion; 'I'll follow him and teach the impudent vagabond a lesson he wants.'
"He seized his hat, and buttoned up his coat, as if for combat, whilst he spoke.
"'Phil, be quiet,' said his father, rising up and putting his arms about him; 'be quiet now. There will be no taming him down, if his spirit gets up,' said Val, addressing me; 'for all our sakes, Phil, keep quiet and sit down. Good heaven! the strength of him! Phil, keep quiet, I say, you shan't go after him.'
"'Let me go,' shouted the other; 'let me go, I say. I will smash him to atoms. Upon my honor and reputation, he shall not escape me this way--I'll send him home a hoop--a triangle--a zoologist. I'll beat him into mustard, the cowardly scoundrel! And only you were a magistrate, father, I would have done it before you. Let me go, I say--the M'Clutchy blood is up in me! Father, you're a scoundrel if you hold me! You know what a lion I am--what a raging lion, when roused. Hands off, M'Clutchy, I say, when you know I'm a thunderbolt.'
"The tugging and pulling that took place here between the father and son were extraordinary, and I could not in common decency decline assisting the latter to hold him in. I consequently lent him my aid seriously; but this only made things worse:--the more he was held, the more violent and outrageous he became. He foamed at the mouth--stormed--swore--and tore about with such vehemence, that I really began to think the fellow was a dull flint, which produced, fire slowly, but that there was fire in him. The struggle still proceeded, and we pulled and dragged each other through every part of the house:--chairs, and tables, and office-stools were all overturned--and Phil's cry was still for war.
"It's all to no purpose,' he shouted--'I'll not leave an unbroken bone in that scoundrel Hartley's body.'
"'I know you wouldn't, if you got at him,' said Val. 'He would certainly be the death of him,' he added aside tome; 'he would give him some fatal blow, and that's what I'm afraid of.'
"Phil was now perfectly furious--in fact he resembled a drunken man, and might have passed for such.
"'Hartley, you scoundrel, where are you, till I make mummy of you?' he shouted.
"'Here I am,' replied Hartley, entering' the room, walking up to him, and looking him sternly in the face--'here I am--what's your will with me?'
"So comic a paralysis was, perhaps, never witnessed. Phil stood motionless, helpless, speechless. The white cowardly froth rose to his lips, his color became ashy, his jaw fell, he shook, shrunk into himself, and gasped for breath--his eyes became hollow, his squint deepened, and such was his utter prostration of strength, that his very tongue lolled out with weakness, like that of a newly dropped calf, when attempting to stand for the first time. At length he got out--
"'Hold! I believe, I'll restrain myself; but only my father's a magistrate------'
"'Your father's a scoundrel, and you are another,' said Hartley; 'and here's my respect for you.'
"Whilst speaking, he caught Phil by the nose with one hand, and also by the collar of his coat with the other, and in this position led him, in a most comical way, round the room, after which he turned him about, and inflicted a few vigorous kicks upon a part of him which must be nameless.
"'I am not sorry,' said he, 'that I forgot my note-case in the other room, as it has given me an opportunity of taming a raging lion so easily.'
"'Goon,' said Phil, whose language, as well as valor, was fairly exhausted, 'it's well you're a fire-eater, and my father a magistrate, or by my honor, I'd know how to deal with you.'
"Such, my dear Spinageberd, is a domestic sketch of the Agent and Under Agent of that exceedingly sapient nobleman, Lord Cumber; and if ever, excellent landlord that he is, he should by any possible chance come to see these lines, perhaps he might be disposed to think that an occasional peep at his own property, and an examination into the principles upon which it is managed, might open to him a new field of action worth cultivating, even as an experiment not likely to end in any injurious result to either him or it. In a day or two I shall call upon Mr. Solomon M'Slime, with whom I am anxious to have a conversation, as, indeed, I am with the leading characters on the property. You may accordingly expect an occasional batch of observations from me, made upon the spot, and fresh from my interviews with the individuals to whom they relate."
CHAPTER XVII.--A Moral Survey, or a Wise Man led by a Fool
--Marks of Unjust Agency--Reflections thereon--A Mountain Water-Spout, and Rising of a Torrent--The Insane Mother over the Graves of her Family--Raymond's Humanity--His Rescue from Death.
"Friday, * * *
"I have amused myself--you will see how appropriate the word is by and by--since my last communication, in going over the whole Castle Cumber estate, and noting down the traces which this irresponsible and rapacious oppressor, aided by his constables, bailiffs, and blood-hounds, have left behind them. When I describe the guide into whose hands I have committed myself, I am inclined to think you will not feel much disposed to compliment me on my discretion;--the aforesaid guide being no other than a young fellow, named _Raymond-na-Hattha_, which means, they tell me, Raymond of the Hats--a sobriquet very properly bestowed on him in consequence of a habit he has of always wearing three or four hats at a time, one within the other--a circumstance which, joined to his extraordinary natural height and great strength, gives him absolutely a gigantic appearance. This Raymond is the fool of the parish; but in selecting him for my conductor, I acted under the advice of those who knew him better than I could. There is not, in fact, a field or farm-house, or a cottage, within a circumference of miles, which he does not know, and where he is not also known. He has ever since his childhood evinced a most extraordinary fancy for game cocks--an attachment not at all surprising, when it is known that not only was his father, Morgan Monahan, the most celebrated breeder and handler of that courageous bird--but his mother, Poll Doolin--married women here frequently preserve, or are called by, their maiden names through life--who learned it from her husband, was equally famous for this very feminine accomplishment. Poor Raymond, notwithstanding his privation, is, however, exceedingly shrewd in many things, especially where he can make himself understood. As he speaks, however, in unconnected sentences, in which there is put forth no more than one phase of the subject he alludes to, or the idea he entertains, it is unquestionably not an easy task to understand him without an interpreter. He is singularly fond of children--very benevolent--and consequently feels a degree of hatred and horror at anything in the shape of cruelty or oppression, almost beyond belief, in a person deprived of reason. This morning he was with me by appointment, about half-past nine, and after getting his breakfast----but no matter--the manipulation he exhibited would have been death to a dyspeptic patient, from sheer envy--we sallied forth to trace this man, M'Clutchy, by the awful marks of ruin, and tyranny, and persecution; for these words convey the principles of what he hath left, and is leaving behind him.
"'Now, Raymond,' said I, 'as you know the country well, I shall be guided by you. I wish to see a place called Drum Dhu. Can you conduct me there?'
"'Ay!' he replied with surprise; 'Why! Sure there's scarcely anybody there now. When we go on farther, we may look up, but we'll see no smoke, as there used to be. 'Twas there young Torly Regan died on that day--an' her, poor Mary--but they're all gone from her--and Hugh the eldest is in England or America--but him--the youngest--he'll never waken--and what will the poor mother do for his white head now that she hasn't it to look at? No, he wouldn't waken, although I brought him the cock.'
"'Of whom are you speaking now, Raymond?'
"'I'll tell you two things that's the same,' he replied; 'and I'll tell you the man that has them both.'
"'Let me hear, Raymond.'
"'The devil's blessin' and God's curse;--sure they're the same--ha, ha--there now--that's one. You didn't know that--no, no: you didn't.'
"'And who is it that has them, Raymond?'
"'M'Clutchy--Val the Vulture; sure 'twas he did that all, and is doin'
it still. Poor Mary!--Brian will never waken;--she'll never see his eyes again, 'tany rate--nor his white head--oh! his white head! God ought to kill Val, and I wondher he doesn't.'
"'Raymond, my good friend,' said I, 'if you travel at this rate, I must give up the journey altogether.'
"The fact is, that when excited, as he was now by the topic in question, he gets into what is termed a sling trot, which carries him on at about six miles an hour, without ever feeling fatigued. He immediately slackened his pace, and looked towards me, with a consciousness of having forgotten himself and acted wrongly.
"'Well, no,' said he, 'I won't; but sure I hate him.'
"'Hate whom?'
"'M'Clutchy--and that was it; for I always do it; but I won't again, for you couldn't keep up wid me if I spoke about him.'
"We then turned towards the mountains; and as we went along, the desolate impresses of the evil agent began here and there to become visible. On the road-side there were the humble traces of two or three cabins, whose little hearths had been extinguished, and whose walls were levelled to the earth. The black fungus, the burdock, the nettle, and all those offensive weeds that follow in the train of oppression and ruin were here; and as the dreary wind stirred them into sluggish motion, and piped its melancholy wail through these desolate little mounds, I could not help asking myself--if those who do these things ever think that there is a reckoning in after life, where power, and insolence, and wealth misapplied, and rancor, and pride, and rapacity, and persecution, and revenge, and sensuality, and gluttony, will be placed face to face with those humble beings, on whose rights and privileges of simple existence they have trampled with such a selfish and exterminating tread. A host of thoughts and reflections began to crowd upon my mind; but the subject was too painful--and after avoiding it as well as I could, we proceeded on our little tour of observation.
"How easy it is for the commonest observer to mark even the striking characters that are impressed on the physical features of an estate which is managed by care and kindness--where general happiness and principles of active industry are diffused through the people? And, on the other hand, do not all the depressing symbols of neglect and mismanagement present equally obvious exponents of their operation, upon properties like this of Castle Cumber? On this property, it is not every tenant that is allowed to have an interest in the soil at all, since the accession of M'Clutchy. He has succeeded in inducing the head landlord to decline granting leases to any but those who are his political supporters--that is, who will vote for him or his nominee at an election; or, in other words, who will enable him to sell both their political privileges and his own, to gratify his cupidity or ambition, without conferring a single advantage upon themselves. From those, therefore, who have too much honesty to prostitute their votes to his corrupt and selfish negotiations with power, leases are withheld, in order that they may, with more becoming and plausible oppression, be removed from the property, and the staunch political supporter brought in in their stead. This may be all very good policy, but it is certainly bad humanity, and worse religion, In fact, it is the practice of that cruel dogma, which prompts us to sacrifice the principles of others to our own, and to deprive them of the very privilege which we ourselves claim--that of acting according to our conscientious impressions. 'Do unto others,' says Mr. M'Clutchy and his class, as you would not wish that others should do unto you.' How beautifully here is the practice of the loud and headlong supporter of the Protestant Church, and its political ascendancy, made to harmonize with the principles of that neglected thing called the Gospel? In fact as we went along, it was easy to mark, on the houses and farmsteads about us, the injustice of making this heartless distinction. The man who felt himself secure and fixed by a vested right in the possession of his tenement, had heart and motive to work and improve it, undepressed by the consciousness that his improvements to-day might be trafficked on by a wicked and unjust agent tomorrow. He knows, that in developing all the advantages and good qualities of the soil, he is not only discharging an important duty to himself and his landlord, but also to his children's children after him; and the result is, that the comfort, contentment, and self-respect which he gains by the consciousness of his security, are evident at a glance upon himself, his house, and his holding. On the other hand, reverse this picture, and what is the consequence? Just what is here visible.
There is a man who may be sent adrift on the shortest notice, unless he is base enough to trade upon his principles and vote against his conscience. What interest has he in the soil, or in the prosperity of his landlord? If he make improvements this year, he may see the landlord derive all the advantages of them the next; or, what is quite as likely, he may know that some Valentine M'Clutchy may put them in his own pocket, and keep the landlord in the dark regarding the whole transaction. What a bounty on dishonesty and knavery in an agent is this? How unjust to the interest of the tenant, in the first place--in the next to that of the landlord--and, finally, how destructive to the very nature and properties of the soil itself, which rapidly degenerates by bad and negligent culture, and. consequently becomes impoverished and diminished in value. All this was evident as we went along. Here was warmth, and wealth, and independence staring us in the face; there was negligence, desponding struggle, and decline, conscious, as it were, of their unseemly appearance, and anxious, one would think, to shrink away from the searching eye of observation.
"'But here again, Raymond; what have we here? There is a fine looking farmhouse, evidently untenanted. How is that?'
"'Ha, ha,' replied Raymond with a bitter smile, 'ha, ha! Let them take it, and see what Captain Whiteboy will do? He has the possession--ha, ha--an' who'll get him to give it up? Who dare take that, or any of Captain Whiteboy's farms? But sure it's not, much--only a coal, a rushlight, and a prod of a pike or a baynet--but I know who ought to have them.'
"The house in question was considerably dilapidated. Its doors were not visible, and its windows had all been shivered. Its smokeless chimneys, its cold and desolate appearance, together with the still more ruinous condition of the outhouses, added to the utter silence which prevailed about it, and the absence of every symptom of life and motion--all told a tale which has left many a bloody moral to the country. The slaps, gates, and enclosures were down--the hedges broken or cut away--the fences trampled on and levelled to the earth--and nothing seemed to thrive--for the garden was overrun with them--but the rank weeds already alluded to, as those which love to trace the footsteps of ruin and desolation, in order to show, as it were, what they leave behind them.
As we advanced, other and more startling proofs of M'Clutchy came in our way--proofs which did not consist of ruined houses, desolate villages, or roofless-cottages--but of those unfortunate persons, whose simple circle of domestic life--whose little cares, and struggles, and sorrows, and affections, formed the whole round of their humble existence, and its enjoyments, as given them by Almighty God himself. All these, however, like the feelings and affections of the manacled slave, were as completely overlooked by those who turned them adrift, as if in possessing such feelings, they had invaded a right which belonged only to their betters, and which,the same betters, by the way, seldom exercise either in such strength or purity as those whom they despise and oppress. Aged men we met, bent, with years, and weighed down still more by that houseless sorrow, which is found accompanying them along the highways of life:--through its rugged solitudes and its dreariest paths--in the storm and in the tempest--wherever they go--in want, nakedness, and destitution--still at their side is that houseless sorrow--pouring into their memories and their hearts the conviction, which is most terrible to old age, that it has no home here but the grave--no pillow on which to forget its cares but the dust. The sight of these wretched old men, turned out from, the little holdings that sheltered their helplessness, to beg a morsel, through utter charity, in the decrepitude of life, was enough to make a man wish that he had never been born to witness such a wanton abuse of that power which was entrusted to man for the purpose of diffusing happiness instead of misery. All these were known to Raymond, who, as far as he could, gave me their brief and unfortunate history. That which showed us, however, the heartless evils of the-clearance system in its immediate operation upon the poorer classes, was the groups of squalid females who traversed the country, accompanied by their pale and sickly looking children, all in a state of mendicancy, and wofully destitute of clothing. The system in this case being to deny their husbands employment upon the property, in order to drive them, by the strong scourge of necessity, off it, the poor men were compelled to seek it elsewhere, whilst their sorrowing and heart-broken families were fain to remain and beg a morsel from those who were best acquainted with the history of their expulsion, and who, consequently, could yield to them and their little ones a more cordial and liberal sympathy. After thus witnessing the consequences of bad management, and worse feeling, in the shape of houses desolate, villages levelled, farms waste, old age homeless, and feeble mothers tottering under their weaker children--after witnessing, I say, all this, we came to the village called Drum Dhu, being one of those out of which these unhappy creatures were so mercilessly driven.
"A village of this description is, to say the least of it, no credit to the landed proprietors of any country. It is the necessary result of a bad system. But we know that if the landlord paid the attention which he ought to pay, to both the rights and duties of his property, a bad system could never be established upon it. I am far from saying, indeed, my dear Spinageberd, there are not cases in which the landlord finds himself in circumstances of great difficulty. Bad, unprincipled, vindictive, and idle tenants enough there are in this country--as I am given to understand from those who know it best--plotting scoundrels, who, like tainted sheep, are not only corrupt themselves, but infect others, whom they bring along with themselves to their proper destination, the gallows. Enough and too many of these there are to be found, who are cruel without cause, and treacherous without provocation; and this is evident, by the criminal records of the country, from which it is clear that it is not in general the aggrieved man who takes justice in his own hands, but the idle profligate I speak of now. Many indeed of all these, it is an act due to public peace and tranquility to dislodge from any and from every estate; but at the same time, it is not just that the many innocent should suffer as well as the guilty few. To return, however, to the landlord. It often happens, that when portions of his property fall out of lease, he finds it over-stocked with a swarm of paupers, who are not his tenants at all and never were--but who in consequence of the vices of sub-letting, have multiplied in proportion to the rapacity and extortion of middle-men, and third-men, and fourth-men--and though last, not least, of the political exigencies of the landlord himself, to serve whose purposes they were laboriously subdivided off into tattered legions of fraud, corruption, and perjury.
Having, therefore, either connived at, or encouraged the creation of thess creatures upon his property for corrupt purposes, is he justified, when such a change in the elective franchise has occurred as renders them of no political importance to him, in turning them out of their little holdings, without aid or provision of some sort, and without reflecting besides, that they are in this, the moment of their sorest distress, nothing else than the neglected tools and forgotten victims of his own ambition. Or can he be surprised, after hardening them into the iniquity of half a dozen elections, that he finds fellows in their number who would feel no more scruples in putting a bullet into him from behind a hedge, than they would into a dog? Verily, my dear Simon Spinageberd, the more I look into the political and civil education which the people of Ireland have received, I am only surprised that property in this country rests upon so firm and secure a basis as I find it does.
"On arriving at Drum Dhu, the spectacle which presented itself to us was marked, not merely by the vestiges of inhumanity and bad policy, but by the wanton insolence of sectarian spirit and bitter party feeling.
On some of the doors had been written with chalk or charcoal, "Clear off--to hell or Connaught!" "Down with Popery!" "M'Clutchy's cavalry and Ballyhack wreckers for ever!" In accordance with these offensive principles most of all the smaller cottages and cabins had been literally wrecked and left uninhabitable, in the violence of this bad impulse, although at the present moment they are about to be re-erected, to bear out the hollow promises that will be necessary for the forthcoming election. The village was indeed a miserable and frightful scene. There it stood, between thirty and forty small and humble habitations, from which, with the exception of about five or six, all the inmates had been dispossessed, without any consideration for age, sex, poverty, or sickness. Nay, I am assured that a young man was carried out during the agonies of death, and expired in the street, under the fury of a stormy and tempestuous day. Of those who remained, four who are Protestants, and two whom are Catholics, have promised to vote with M'Clutchy, who is here the great representative of Lord Cumber and his property. If, indeed, you were now to look upon these two miserable lines of silent and tenantless walls, most of them unroofed, and tumbled into heaps of green ruin, that are fast melting out of shape, for they were mostly composed of mere peat--you would surely say, as the Eastern Vizier said in the apologue. 'God prosper Mr. Valentine M'Clutchy!--for so long as Lord Cumber has him for an agent, he will never want plenty of ruined villages!' My companion muttered many things to himself, but said nothing intelligible, until he came to one of the ruins pretty near the centre:--
"'Ay,' said he, 'here is the place they said he died--here before the door--and in there is where he lay during his long sickness. The wet thatch and the sods is lying there now. Many a time I was with him. Poor Torley!'
"'Of whom do you speak now, Raymond?' I asked.
"'Come away,' he said, not noticing my question,--'come till I show you the other place that the neighbors built privately when he was dying--the father I mean--ay, and the other wid the white head, him that wouldn't waken--come.'
"I followed him, for truth to tell, I was sick at heart of all that I had witnessed that morning, and now felt anxious, if I could, to relieve my imagination of this melancholy imagery and its causes altogether.
He went farther up towards the higher mountains, in rather a slanting direction, but not immediately into their darkest recesses, and after a walk of about two miles more, he stopped at the scattered turf walls of what must once have been a cold, damp, and most comfortless cabin.