a I E) RAFLY OF THE UNIVERSITY or ILLINOIS 823 R2212n v.l ^\v\^l f] NOEAH MORIARTY NORAH MORIARTY OR EEVELATIONS OF MODEEN lEISH LIFE BY AMOS KEADE IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCLXXXVI All Rights reserved % 8^^ V. 1 PROLOGUE, Let no one imagine this story is too highly coloured, or fancy " things have quieted down." For six years Ireland has been subjected to ille- gal coercion of a most stringent nature ; and, as the following resolution of a southern Grand Jury, sent to the Executive during this present month, shows, they still suffer. " Eesolved — That the Grand Jury of the County regards with horror the long list of malicious injuries, numbering over forty, which have come before it, the applicants claiming and having been awarded compensation to the amount of £700 for wilful, malicious, and in many cases most cruel injury done to their cattle and other pro- VI PKOLOGUE. perty — the perpetrators of the outrages in no case having been brought to justice; and this Grand Jury desires to express the hope that the Government will take such steps as will prevent the recurrence of such lawlessness, which involves ruinous taxes on the farmers, and is inconsistent with the prosperity or civilisation of any country or the safety of society." This is corroborated by other evidence, each local paper giving weekly lists of " outrages," and declaring that " The National League is para- mount : whenever its mandate or unwritten law is disobeyed, the offender is persecuted to such an extent, life is a weary burden to him or her." " Day lighting " now follows " moonlighting," and there is a loud cry for help. United we stand — divided we fall. Juhj 15, 1886. (X)NTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. CHAP. I. EVOLUTION, .... II. IRISH SENTIMENTS IX BYGONE DAYS m. A LITTLE CLOUD NO BIGGER THAN A MAN'S HAND, ..... IV. THE BREAKING OF THE ICE, V. UP AND DOING, VI. THE GATHERING OF THE- STORM, . VII. MR DYMOCk's NATIONAL SENTIMENTS, VIII. ILL WEEDS GROW APACE, . IX. MOONLIGHTERS, X. LAND-LEAGUE TACTICS, XL MOONLIGHTING, XIL A THREATENING LETTER, XIII. THE LAND-LEAGUE HUNT, . XIV. THE EARL TURNS OVER A NEW LEAF AND IS BOYCOTTED, ...... PAGE 1 26 4.3 50 73 91 111 128 153 175 200 228 250 26i^ NOEAH MOEIAETY CHAPTEE I. EVOLUTION. Under ordinary circumstances preachers select a text whereby to illustrate the truths they desire to inculcate. In like fashion, story-tellers drape a hero with the pet ideas they mean to elaborate. Texts and truths are sometimes misapplied and inappropriate, heroes fantastic fancies, hobbies ridden to the death with misdirected energies. In this present veracious story of facts, which are stranger than fiction, we do not need a hero, and hope our readers will excuse the selection of a nonogenarian as our first object of interest. Take up that invaluable book ' The Peerage,' VOL. L A 2 NOKAH MORIARTY. open at B, turn until you find Blankshire, under which head may be read — " Blankshire, Earl of (Ulick Fitzgerald), Viscount Killballymactaggart, Baron of Cardiff in Wales, Baron of Mull in the Peerage of Ireland, and Baron Upton in the United Kingdom, of Ballykillbegs Castle, in the County of Blankshire ; Lord Lieut, and Custos Eotulorum of the County — b. 20th Sept. 1788." This history beginning, as it actually does, A.D. 1878, many will think the Earl of Blank- shire's prolonged existence a physiological fact of more interest to scientific than ordinary minds. But modern education teaches the rotatory scheme is unending; that as each passing year produces and sows its quota of vegetable and other germ for future ages, so also the human race bring forth ideas, and mostly die ere the harvest of their days is reaped. Evolution is allowed on all sides to be the natural order of things, consequently Lord Blank- shire's wide span of life, stretching from before the Union to these modern Home Eule days, illustrates the shortcomings and toils of a century EVOLUTION. 3 of Irish life — the careless seed sown, the ill weeds now choking good seed. But this alone is not all ; the fast -running sands of this old man's life are worthy of record, because they form a sensational drama of excep- tional interest. Born in troubled times, Ulick Fitzgerald was only a weakly boy in "'98." Of the horrors of that time he had but faint recollection, all his thouf^jhts concentratincr on the frac^ile ^irl-mother who then died. He was a timorous child, whom the mother had sheltered beneath her wing, in- stead of allowing him to run the ordinary risks of youths of his age and day. Therefore, when they had to fly by night before a savage crowd of dis- affected rebels, and she succumbed to the horrors of that flight, the boy only remembered the loss of his mother. His mother was dead, the love which had shielded him was no more, and he re- mained a sensitive wretched being, without a compass to guide him through the shoals, or shelter to protect him from the storms of life. No longer did loving hand smooth his ruffled bed of roses, or pull aside the brambles from his path. 4 NORAH MOPvIARTY. Misunderstood, he suffered keenly. Eidiculed for weaknesses lie could not overcome, he was per- petually victimised, daily scarified, until he grew into a sensitive, egotistical youth, whose every breath was a mental anguish. His burly, careless, and in his own way busy, but not unkind father, with a cheery active nature, was entirely incapable of comprehending this un- congenial son. He thought this boy a fool, a molly-coddle, a shy lad, who must be roused to something ; and groaned that his other son, his pet Gerald, was not his heir. At eighteen his father sent Ulick Fitzgerald to London, to see life and learn manners. Be- wildered at his surroundings, the youth drifted with the Court crowd, and was absolutely miser- able, until his imagination was captivated by a beautiful girl. She was a Court beauty, — an Aspasia who played on his foibles skilfully, and for a brief space steeped his soul in a fool's paradise of bliss. The young man fancied himself in love — beloved — and was about to marry his idol. Fortunately, ere the knot - matrimonial was tied EVOLUTION, 5 the young man saw this fair one's cloven foot. His prospective coronet and not himself was the object of her adoration. Disillusioned, Ulick Fitzgerald broke through the net that had caught him, fled from Aspasia, and ever after fearing, never again ventured to sun himself in woman's smile. Shortly after his father died, and at the early age of two-and-twenty, Ulick Fitzgerald found him- self his own master, and alone in his stately home. Cycles have revolved since then, and every year that passed has further frozen the fountain of this lonely man's heart sympathies. Each year shunning his kind, Lord Blankshire has starved his better nature, until youthful shyness has assumed the cankerous form of a self- consciousness, rendering his existence an unlovely incubus. Despite shy uncongeniality. Lord Blankshire is a proud man, essentially an aristocrat, and fondly cherishing the exclusiveness of his " position " as an altitude which he is glad to think he has never desecrated by rubbing elbows with plebeian plutocracy. 6 NORAH MOEIARTY. Never, no never, has he admitted within the radius of his sphere any outward and visible sign of latter-day degeneracy or modern democracy. No American ideas, no Eadical proclivities, dare be aired in his presence. Nature abhors a vacuum, so his " nerves " abhor a crowd, and it requires more " motive power " to press this recluse into contact with his neighbours than it does to exhaust the air in a receiver. Year by year he has grown more superlatively exclusive — in his own eyes a more rigid pillar of propriety,^ according to modern ideas more mentally be- nighted ; still, according to the limited scope of his view, with rigid propriety if depressing effect, he has endeavoured punctiliously to perform his duties, in that " state of life " to which the laws of primogeniture and strict entail have called him. Ever studiously polite, the focus of his cold grey eye is a social agony. Many victims lost in the chill fog of stilted platitudes, enunciated for their benefit, would hail with delight a personal insult, which might give excuse for avoiding the old man's didactics. But to the Earl a rudeness is an impossibility, a vulgarity unbecoming his EVOLUTIOX. 7 station ; so those whose misfortune it is that they must occasionally visit the Earl, dread the hour of unsocial intercourse, and brace themselves for that ordeal with what fortitude their natures supply and the occasion requires. To sum up this autocrat, he is an anatomy of a man, a machine-made article, who has ever lived by rule. Saturated with " self " — that is, the abstract " self," representing an honourable posi- tion — the man has never yielded to an impulse (except in the case of Aspasia), never expanded with sympathy, never permitted himself to enjoy. Poor Ulick has ever had a " hard time," individual comfort being a nothing in the Earl's eyes, every- thing being sacrificed to an irksome if honourable position. To this somewhat clay-ideal this man has ever sacrificed, and with the " honour " of his " posi- tion " ever staring him out of countenance, has existed, while all that is really honourable within him is ossified. He is irritably insistent as to tricks of speech, ceremony, and suchlike ; trifles good enough in themselves, but overweighted by which feathers of fashion all the higher aspirations 8 XOEAH MOPJAETY. generally become paralysed. Thus at fourscore years and ten the Earl is a hard nut to crack. There is nothing soft about him. Wizened, gnarled, weary, worn in his outer man, alone in the desert of a lordly house : there is but one soft spot, a sort of green pasture, an almost senile memory, which he cherishes and calls love — love for the mother who died in his far-away childhood. So much for the man. Now for a glimpse of his surroundings, and those " talents " which he has sought to keep as " talents in a napkin." When early in the present century his father died, Ulick Fitzgerald had succeeded to a goodly heritage, with no encumbrance but a brother. To this brother the Earl entrusted the management of his estates. Gerald Fitzgerald had been his father's com- panion and idol, and was also a counterpart of his rough virtues, few principles, and careless habits. This pleasure -loving, happy-go-lucky, recklessly generous individual, accepted the agency as a " matter of course," and " managed " the estate with indifferent partiality. That is to say, he collected rents promiscuously, taking coin or kind EVOLUTION. y from the tenants to supply the immediate wants of the master. Fines were levied to meet the requirements of the lord of the manor, with as easy a conscience as " presents " were accepted to replenish his own impoverished exchequer, or leases sold to provide funds for an election. Gerald Fitzgerald's administration was ham- pered by no theories ; he was not an exception- ally bad man, neither was he a deceitful or dis- honest brother ; he was merely uneducated, without method, and lived in an age when coun- try gentlemen thought little, knew less, and cared naught about the future. Such " do unto others as you would they should do unto you " ethics as are now aired in society were flights of political economy quite above Gerald Fitzgerald's comprehension. He was a pleasure- loving soul, a very single-minded man, inasmuch as he looked on life from only one point of view, as his oyster. Gerald Fitzgerald's need limited his horizon. Gerald Fitzgerald's pleasure was his motive power. He was agent to his brother the Earl, an office which he believed to be a pleasant well-paid sinecure, specially instituted for the 10 NOEAH MORIAETY. benefit of the cadets of the family. The agency was a sort of vice-earlship, integral with the family status, the agent a minor potentate, whose " business " it was to collect and dispense cash. Meum and tuum were not critically balanced fractions in his moral, and sums quite beyond the calculating of his intellectual, powers. Thus, without a second thought this agent took from the tenants what money was needed for the pre- sent exigencies of the Earl's state or his own pleasure. Fortunately for the estate, a premature decay of nature obliged this " good-natured," easy- going gentleman of the olden style to resign office, and take possession of a six-foot fee-simple of his own. He was succeeded by his son, a young soldier, with more intellect and education than his father, much conscience, and a sincere desire to act justly. New to agriculture and political economy, this new agent had some difficulty in adapting his sword to a ploughshare. But Captain Fitzgerald was persistent, and by precept and example endeavoured to overcome every obstacle. He argued patiently with the EYOLUTIOX. 11 Earl, he more patiently ad\dsecl the tenants, as he set diligently to work on the ungrateful task of eradicating old abuses and introducing modem improvements. Captain Desmond was indefatigable, and though his logic failed to convince the Earl, or convert the tenants from the error of their ways, he managed to evolve some system out of chaos. The Earl's agent being also his heir, was in a position to be insistent. Taking advantage, therefore, of his position, despite the old man's sarcasms on his new-fangled theories of " amelio- rating the condition of the people," and decided objection to clodhoppers being promoted to the higher standard. Captain Desmond Eitzgerald bore the Earl's grumbles, and endeavoured to improve the condition of the people and the estate. But though he somehow managed the landlord, the people continued as thorns in his path. The three E's found no favour in their sight. Though the agent and prospective master spoke with the wisdom of Solomon, they utterly declined to see any good could be attained by higher mental or terrestrial cultivation. Schools were occasionally 12 NOR AH MORIARTY. endured, while cereal crops found no favour in their eyes, and machinery versus hand-labour continued an abomination. In vain Captain Desmond demonstrated, — the honest tenants continued deaf to his homiletics, until he imported a steam thrashing-machine. Then indeed he brought a hornet's nest about his ears. AMiat ! this an improvement ? It was barefaced robbery. Farm-work otherwise accom- plished than by the labour of their own thews and sinews took the bread out of the mouths of their children. So grumbled the people. And the Earl was also supercilious. Enjoying his agent's discomfiture, he turned up his aristocratic nose at the new-fangled machine, calling the iron Hercules an " absurd innovation " ; and beincp rather pleased than otherwise when one night the alarmed labourers destroyed the " cumbrous monstrosity." After a quarter of a century of uphill work, few successes, and many disappointments, Captain Fitzgerald died. At his demise, the Blankshirites were still un- sophisticated, much preferring known abuses to EVOLUTIOX. 1 3 adventuring on unknown improvements. There was a natural conservatism amongst them, and a decided scepticism as to successful agriculture requiring a scientific foundation. Moreover, this slowness of accepting the in- evitable was not entirely confined to " the people." Many who prided themselves on " culture " were also behind the times, and Lord Blankshire insisted on keeping his head in the mists of a primitive ignorance. Born in the purple, he haughtily repudiated modern science and im- provements as inventions of the evil one, deno- minating each change as socialistic. From his altitude of pinnacled greatness, this " great man " looked down on the modern world, boasting with self-important dignity of his con- servatism. A whimsical '■' ism," the fixed apex of which was horror at any divergence from that nar- row path wherein his feet had heretofore marched. The old man had cynically ridiculed the young man's efforts, laughed at his discomfitures, and was galling in the disdain with which he con- demned Utopian ideas. He had scoffed at peas- ants placed as potentates. Indeed the transmu- U NORAH MORIAKTY. tation from corduroy to broadcloth was, the old man said, an impossibility. A monstrous idea ! one which, if it could be carried out, would be a huge mistake, entailing ruin and misfortune on the country. Indeed, aiming at such would be " worse than a mistake " — " a crime subversive of all order and decency." To hold the even balance of justice, and act as buffer between this autocrat and " the people," was no easy matter. The Earl maintained that " the people " did very well as they were. Endeavouring to amelio- rate a condition with which they were generally content, was only putting " notions " into their heads, inciting them to disturb the privileges of the aristocracy. Thus he had ever considered his active agent's " improvements " as so many luna- cies, only permitting them, because perpetually interfering and refusing was too great a personal exertion. While the tenants had accepted this agent's benefits with a grumble, declaring they were hardships, and even when results proved the agent's wisdom, the farmer scarcely admitted the success was owing to improved methods. EVOLUTION. 15 No ; tenants still preferred damp cabins full of smoke to whitewashed cottages with modern chimneys, windows, and doors. The pig in the corner was company, the pig in a sty a grievance. " God help the poor craythur that paid the rint ! Surely she could not prosper in the cold. Bedad ! they were all more comfortable and warmer togethir ! " So neither landlord nor tenant were quite sat- isfied with Captain Fitzgerald's modern improve- ments. When he demised, Lord Blankshire gave his grand-nephew, the dead man's son, the agency. Percy Fitzgerald was very young — but two-and- twenty — when he was thus installed, and both landlord and tenants counted on " easy times." In this both miscalculated. Percy was young, but he was also enthusiastic, had all the family strength of will, and was as impressed as the Earl himself with the importance of " position." Justly considering his position as " heir-apparent " and " agent " one of exceptional influence, the young man determined to inaugurate a new phase of life for the tenants. Buoyed by hope, full of right- eous indignation at oppressions, and despising the 16 XOEAH MORIAETY. difficulties that interposed, this youthful enthu- siast put his shoulder to the collar, and worked with a will to draw his car-load of reforms over the estate. At this epoch the Irish Land Bill of 1870 was launched on the sea of fate as the panacea for all Irish grievances, and accepted as such by many. Amongst these believers in land as the keystone of peasant prosperity was Percy Fitzgerald, who, like many other young Irishmen, was patriotic, and dreamed of an Irish Utopia — a land of peace and plenty, where every man had enough, and no poverty obtruded its wan pale face. Xow was the opportunity. Under this new Land Bill, Percy felt he could attain his ideal, and create a model tenantry which would be a pattern to the county. As the " agent " thought of the end to be attained, he counted the cost but little. Not so the Earl. He scoffed and sneered and worried, satirised the young man's propositions as pretty fancies, chimeras, moonshine, soap-bubbles, until his withers were well wrung, and then gave him his way, prophesying failure. EVOLUTION. 1 7 And, alas for poor Ireland ! the cynic proved the true prophet. Bitter disappointment ere long taught Percy that this new Land Bill, with its multiple " legal definitions," did not always accord with justice. He saw the new law, regardless of local tradition, prejudice, ohvious rights, run — with anything but well-oiled wheels — through many ancient bul- warks, and not peace but strife, follow in its wake. His best endeavours were baiiied — on the one side by the tenants', now enlightened by the at- torney, cunning, caution, and growing greed ; and on the other hampered by the landlord's perverse obstinacy. The much -bewildered agent found landlord's and tenants' conflicting interests and crotchets perplexing problems. The old Earl, immensely amused at the young man's embar- rassments, never wearied of deriding his C|uixot- ism. Thus harassed, Percy Fitzgerald's enthusiasm evaporated, till only common-sense remained. At first Percy had been angry with the Earl, then with the tenants, then with himself, then with the bill. He fumed, chafed, pondered, fin- YOL. I. B 18 NORAH MORIARTY. ally perceived the legal " olive branch " was a delusion — this " peace-offering " a snare. It had promised all manner of good things : it had produced a myriad of evils. Where was now the childlike belief in, the heartfelt respect for, " the master " ? Good feel- ing was blunted, sympathy estranged, confidence destroyed, friendships obliterated. Tenants who had hitherto looked up to and believed in the landlord as the poor man's best friend, now looked at him askance. Mutual trust was a thing of the past, a virtue destroyed, — this hydra-headed monster bill having ruthlessly murdered faith, and then given birth to suspicion. As all this was by degrees brought home to Percy's understanding, he saw with a sigh those theories which had been the bright dream of his youth vanish, and himself left face to face with a ruin of hard facts. It was a sad day to him when he first realised that rattling the rusty chains of obsolete customs had produced evil, and that the friction of petty prejudices was creating sparks which in time would kindle a fire. EVOLTTIOX. 1 9 The young man ^Tas slow to iDelieve, and grudg- ingly admitted, that this English boon was a law that ruined : as with technical acumen it decided individual claims, ignoring sentiment, and thus loosened those bonds of mutual goodwill which had hitherto linked man to man. He was slower still to see or acknowledge the humiliating fact that, under its withering influ- ence, civility, generosity, all the higher instincts of a civilising tendency, became a dead letter. There was now no reason to cultivate " good feeling." As the law gave every man his right, civility was servility. Courtesies could win noth- ing in the business which now chained land- lord to tenant. Goodwill was nowhere, when of necessity each contracting party's object was to secure for himself every privilege that the quibbles of the law permitted. From the creation to the present, it has been " hard times " when law and not love has ruled men's destinies. Percy saw and sighed, and yet did not antici- pate that out of the unhealthy selfishness thus engendered greater evils would go-ow. That 20 NORAH MORIAETY. hitherto quiet peasants, indoctrinated or inocu- lated with a " grievance " by specious adventurers, whose endeavour was to foment evil and give spurious life to expiring abuses, would ere long disrupture old ties ; that presently every rem- nant of mutual interest and kindly feeling would be effaced ; that the poor man's need would change to greed, his highest aspiration be self-aggrandise- ment. Yet such sentiments were inculcated and matured between 1870 and 1878, when our story proper actually begins. Percy Fitzgerald was still the Earl's agent ; Utopian theories, having proved fleeting clouds, had vanished, but a firm determination still strove to make the best of things as they were. He still warred against the hard facts of the Earl's " isms " and the tenants' " grievances," and had so far risen in the old man's esteem by his persever- ance and pluck, that he generally gave him his own way. Yet it was with much fear and trem- bling that in the year 1878 the young man pro- posed to the autocrat his latest idea — a wife ! Percy declared his views with much doubt as to their reception ; he was prepared for a storm EVOLUTION. 21 of sarcasm, abuse, prohibition. Not that he would have been subservient to the latter, but he ex- pected some disagreeable scenes before he could carry out his intention. Great, therefore, was his astonishment to find this proposition graciously received by the head of his house. The Earl smiled a thin set smile ; declaring, as -Percy was the heir, it was essential he should have a successor — a wife was complemental for the glory of their house. Therefore this proposed improvement met with his lordship's approval. Yes ; cynic, critic, w^oman-hater, and ever fas- tidious, on this important question the autocrat abstained from sarcasm, graciously sanctioning his nephew's arrangement. Indeed the Great Mogul was unusually demon- strative, quietly playful with his grand-nephew, further testifying his approbation of the elected bride by bestowing on her the family diamonds. To her the Earl forwarded this magnificent token of esteem with a note as quaint as himself. He declared, in small characters like print, that, " It gave him very great pleasure to have this oppor- 22 NOR AH MORIAUTY. tunity of presenting these family jewels to the admired daughter of an old friend," and concluded his epistle by promising to grace the ceremony with his presence. This latter sacrifice of personal comfort indi- cated how very highly he approved of the gentle girl this scion of his race elected to marry. The bride's parents declared nothing could be more complimentary than the Earl's note, or more magnificent than the diamonds. The stones were splendid, albeit the setting, like the donor's man- ners, were cumbrously old-fashioned, — so cum- brous that they elicited smiles of wondering pleasure more than actual admiration from the gratified recipient. These jewels had last shone on the bosom of the beautiful countess, his lord- ship's venerated mother, and these treasures, like his affections, had been buried for the best part of a century. Now jewels and perhaps affections were to be exhumed for Mary O'Brien's benefit. Percy was highly delighted. He, regarding this caclecm as an auspicious augury, laughingly de- clared Mary was a witch, her influence having produced the first symptom of human sympathy EYOLUTIOX. 23 to which he had ever known his elderly relative succumb. The young man, who had nervously pondered over his proposals for months, fearing to annoy his aged relative, was deeply gratified by the way in which the old man appreciated the girl he was about to marry. And Mary O'Brien, wise in her generation, and glad, at Percy's pleasure, determined to utilise her opportunities, and cultivate the Earl's goodwill, in pursuance of which she decided to wear the old man's gift on her wedding-day. To this the bridesmaids laughingly remonstrated, urging with truth that the " woman-hater's votive - offering " was more suitable for the South Kensington Museum than the adornment of a nineteenth- century bride. One declared " they overweighted, and did not adorn her slight figure;" another, that " she looked more like a lavishly decorated Madonna than an ordinarily attired bride." But Mary smiled. She wore them with a purpose, and would almost have desecrated the occasion by arraying herself in sackcloth and ashes, if by so doing she could 24 NORAH MOEIAKTY. attain her end — to please Percy, by winning the old Earl's heart. Had the bride omitted to wear the diamonds, Lord Blankshire would have made no remark, per- haps he would not have missed them. As it was, he made no remark, but the girl gained her object. The old man's eyes were for a moment daz- zled, when he saw the magnificent family insignia flashinc' on the oirl, who was to be the mother of the future Gracchi ; then they were for an instant dim, as he remembered they had last been exhibited on the bosom of his beautiful and ever to be lamented mother. Thus, by her delicate apprehension of the old man's idiosyncrasy, Mary gave as much pleasure to his ossified heart as it was capable of feeling. More, indeed, than he or she dreamed of, as then and there she entered in, and made a corner for herself amongst the old man's shrivelled -up memories. There was an unwonted flush on his cheek, and quite a smile in the hard grey eye, as after the ceremony the Earl surprised himself, and gratified the company, sealing his approbation by saluting with his lips the bride's cheek. EVOLUTION. 25 This last significant act satisfied Percy that Mary's appreciative thoughtfulness in seeing and ministering to the foibles of the old man were crowned with success. He was more than pleased, — obliged to her who had conquered the Earl for his sake, and was indeed a happy man, as he drove away with " the dearest girl in the world for his wife." 26 CHAPTEE II. IRISH SENTIxMEN'TS IX BYGONE DAYS. The world was steeped in stillness. Not the awed hush of a death vigil, nor that haunted silence that makes miserable the wakeful hours of black night, but a pleasant quiet. Such rest- ful calm as is only possible on a fair hillside, where nature, rejoicing in the blaze of an August mid-day sun, is full of pleasant murmurings. In such a beatitude as this stands a farmhouse, against the door-sill of which leans a young man. His hands are deep in his pockets, as he lolls there, complacently contemplating the prospect. Across the road a few aspens droop their silver- lined leaves pensively, as if listening to the song of the little stream rippling at their feet, in which stand a few somnolent cattle, lazily switching • IRISH SENTIMENTS IN BYGONE DAYS. 27 their flail-like tails, in the vain hope of dispers- ing the myriad flies that hum around, settle on, and torment their mottled hides. These cows, after the bovine habit, contentedly chew the cud, while perfuming the summer day with scented breath. Undulating slopes of sun-kissed sward merge in the spongy waste of the neighbouring bog, — a dun -coloured spacious flat, that throws out in beautiful contrasts terraced dikes crowned with blue bog-myrtle, walls arid towers of brown baked turf, mounds of purple heather, and soft white plumes of bog- cotton, which flourish exceedingly in its ooziness, and above which are the mountains. To the west, fields of grain bow reverent heads to the god Sun, that has magically transformed their verdure into gold. Beyond these is the town, — a sea-side town, with southern aspect, pleasantly situated on a hill that slopes to the water's edge, where its low -lying streets are fre- quently invaded by the spring-tides. The promon- tory on which the town is built is clasped by the white gleaming arms of the sea. In the far west, where land and water meet, are shores of golden sands, which glitter in the sunshine. On the 28 NOEAH MOEIAETY. north of this promontory, wild cliffs and huge boulders form a wall, which holds back the wide ocean from rolling in its fury over those miles of fertile hills and over the town, — from making the northern estuary of Shen Dhu one sea with the bay proper of the Mactaggarts' country — a bay which is hemmed in on the south by a range of mountains piled one above the other ; the heights and hollows of which are coloured by the natural tints of countless vegetable growths, cunningly blended by the master-hand of Father Time. These lesser hills and greater mountains are a glorious sight to see, as in their steadfast cling- ing together they bid defiance to the ocean waves. Now, as the August sun shines strong, the peaks of these mountains fade away and are lost in the blue heavens, blended by that white vapor- ous opaqueness which the heat has drawn from deep cre^dces, and thrown like a thin veil over the russet-browns, delicate golds, royal purples, and multitudinous greeneries carpeting the quiet valleys. It is a lovely panorama, and these beauties are enhanced by their wondrous reflections on the IRISH SENTIMENTS IN BYGONE DAYS. 29 mirror of that quiet sea. Art is not needed here, where nature is so prodigal ; where water, earth, and air combine in giving out their best ; where the human eye finds it hard to discern — cannot decide — where the lovely earth ends and the most beautiful heaven commences. The farmhouse is almost on the roadside. Between the hospitably open door, at which that young man stands, and the road there is only about thirty feet of irregular yard, littered by a conglomerate of properties, and in no way en- closed. Calves are frolicking there, disporting themselves inanely in the dust. They do it under protest, then cease abruptly, as if ashamed of so indecorously disturbing the quiet. A large and hideous sow, proud of maternal duties, grunts amicably, while a voracious brood of squeakers battle round her at their mid-day meal. Such sounds in no way mar the quiet of this peaceful scene : they are but the bass notes in nature's orchestra, and are in perfect harmony with the cart, the harrow, the plough, the pots, the " keelers," which lie promiscuously round and about. There is a pump, primitive and pictur- 30 XORAH MOEIAKTY. esque; a trough, where apparently various utensils are, as occasion requires, scoured. If not the picture of a model farm, it is emi- nently picturesque, and evidently a comfortable home. The young man leaning against the door-post is evidently enjoying himself. He is in his shirt- sleeves (the day is hot), and has his hands thrust far down in his trouser pockets. Every now and then he hums in snatches — "Oh, my Xorah Creina dear ! My own, my charming Xorah Creina." After a little pause, during which his honest eyes rest contentedly on the beautiful picture before his door, he begins again — ' ' Lesbia hath a beaming eye, Right and left her arrows fly, "What she aims at no one dreameth." Again he lapses into dreamy silence, too lazily content to exert himself overmuch. It is past mid-day, he has been at work since early in the morning, and is now quite weary waiting for his dinner. He is hungry, waiting inactive at home when much has to be done, yet the buoyant lEISH SENTIMENTS IN BYGONE DAYS. 31 happy mind of the man refuses to grow impatient ; he is enjoying life, and again hums thought- fully— " Oh, my Norah Creina dear ! " &c. Again, in dreamy inertness, he ceases his tune, and regards with an air of qualified satisfaction, a certain pride of ownership, and dismay at disarray, the pots, the pans, the kettles, and otlier house- hold matters that lie around the pump. He is a pleasant-looking young man — a small far- mer, a well-built, fair young fellow — with an honest open countenance, whose good-tempered blue eyes smile on these his Penates, while a slight pro- trusion of his under lip manifests a comical dismay at the position of these household treasures. He gazes helplessly down the dusty road towards the town, then slightly altering his position, examines its windincrs in the eastern direction. In neither direction does he see any signs of human form. All around is resting — the kine drowse as they chew, the hens that are awake peck as if about to sleep, stray ducks waddle until they find a smooth stone, and then they squat in the shallow stream. All are lazily content, enjoying the lovely weather; 32 NORAH MORIARTY. SO was he, but — he looks inside, the potatoes are steaming in the pot, but where is " herself " ? The dinner-hour is long past, and still he is waiting for his dinner. At last the broad disc of his sunburnt face expands until it resembles a full harvest-moon, as a smile dawns in eyes that are a reflection of the blue above, spreads to the lips, and illumines the whole, at seeing a woman running swiftly down the road towards him. He shouts to her reproachful words, but there is no trace of annoyance in his pleasant tone — " Hurry ! hurry, asthore ! it is bad keeping a hungry man waiting, and myself is that same for the last half-hour." The woman arrived breathless, and dashed past him into the house, like the calves, shamefaced, and half sorry for her frolic. He followed, his semi - complaint very pleasantly contradicted by the twinkle in his affectionate eyes. " Sure it is a hard case when a man's own wife hasn't the bit and sup ready. Sure it is truth and no lie I am saying, it is ashamed of yourself IRISH SEXTLMEXTS IX BYGOXE DAYS. 33 you ought to be, Mrs Moriarty, rampagin' the country at the top of the morning." "Yerrah, be easy," gasped the woman, still too short of breath to exercise her tongue freely. "Easy! it is too easy I am. Bedad, if you had another hand over you, it is yourself would find a differ. Come now, what nonsense were you after ? Gossiping at Mrs Mahony's, I'll be bound." " Is it scolding me you are, Thadey ? Shame for you ! " gasped she reproachfully, as she ran from one corner to the other, spreading the cloth, and making preparation for the dinner. " Xo ; I never scold. I only take a husband's interest in you. Where were you, achree ? " " Bah, bah ! it is a fool you are, Thade." She was rapidly regaining breath and sauciness. " I was at Widow Mahony's, and down as far as the cross. Sure, where else should I be, and it Miss Mary's wedding morning ? I could not let the darling lady pass without giving her a bit of a blessing. Lovely she looked to — a great sight of company. I am not likely to see the like again this side of Christmas." VOL. I. C 34 NORAH MORIARTY. "Myself forgot it was the wedding-day," half apologised the husband. " More shame for you ! " retorted the wife, with fine contempt, " forgetting the concern of those who were always good to us. Yourself ought to have been there to give them a cheer. Brave and handsome, and as happy as a queen, she looked — and why shouldn't she ? Himself comes of a fine old family, and will be a good husband as he is a good landlord, God bless him ! A wide differ between the like of him and that half- sir Tom Bruncker, who has more impudence than manners, smirks like a dancing-master, is as hard as a millstone, and as crooked as an old cork- screw. A mongrel creature, who ill - treats the decent girl that demeaned herself by marrying him, as bad and worse than he does his unfor- tunate tenants, bad scran-nan to him ! The sight I saw to-day was good for sore eyes, I can tell you. All real gentry, of whom, God help us ! there are not many left in the country to give the kind look and civil word to a body." " Bedad, no," again acquiesced the husband solemnly, regarding his wife with eyes apprecia- lEISH SENTIMENTS IN BYGONE DAYS. 35 tive of her superior sense and beauty. " Half -sir and squireens don't waste civility on the likes of us. But hurry, asthore, myself has to go to Killyslavin, and it is no good tempting the ' good people ' crossing the bog after dark." The wife stopped in her work to laugh at this last remark. " Yourself is queer. Myself remembers the time you never gave a thought to the dark or the * good people ' when you came to see me. But, glory ! the times are changed, and not for the better, as far as I see. Sure enough hedges do be shooting these times, which, seeing it is not spring, is unnatural ; and what goes against nature is wrong. Bad scragan to the evil-doers ! myself don't know what has come to the boys, all down- looking and black," declared Mrs Moriarty. Then again bestirring herself to hasten the mid-day meal, she continued, as she did her work, to enlarge on the more congenial topic at present upper- most in her thoughts. " I wish you had seen them all. Miss Mary's wedding will be the talk of the country. A power of quality there, — even the old Earl himself, all alone in the family coach, 36 NORAH MORIAllTY. jolting about for all the world like a dry pea on a hot griddle. May the Lord help us, but it is a very small share of a man he is ! Sure if nine tailors eo to make a man, it is a dozen of the likes of him it would take to do the same. A wide differ between him and Sir John Castleton ; that's a man to my taste, honest and hearty and red, with a beautiful white head of hair, the good heart beaming out of him — the moral of an Irish gentleman, God bless him ! But Miss Mary her- self was the one I loved to look at, dressed like a queen, as modest as a snowdrop, and as stately as a lily ; thank God she is not going away from us! only coming nearer home. My heart came in my mouth when I saw her, and the tears in my eyes — sorry a thing could I do but drop down on the two knees of me foranint them all, and pray the blessed Virgin and the good St Patrick to bless and keep them." " Yerself always has the prayer on the end of your tongue, God bless you ! " nodded Thade ap- provingly, as his better-half paused to draw breath. " A blessing be with you and your prayers always ; prayer is more Christian than curses." IPJSH SENTIMENTS IX BYGONE DAYS. 37 " True for you ; yet curses are more plenty than prayers," rejoined the wife. " That oma- thaun, Din Shea, was making a holy show of hisself cursing. If he don't look out, that blather- ing tongue of his will get him into trouble. Shane Dhu was there also, with a good drop in, though it is early in the day, airing his ugly tongue. My hand for you, they are a pair of fools, cursing on a proud day like this, when it is glad and happy the whole country ought to be at our own good young lady being married on one at home, instead of going out of the country, as too many of the old stock do." " Eight," agreed Thade." " It is a sore and sorry sight to see the real gentry leave the coun- try — there is many a one gone we could ill spare — and a bad day for the poor when there are none left to stand between us and the tyranny of squireens. Thank God, our landlord is a good man, and that this day he has taken a good wife — not but that I would rather it had been Miss Nellie, herself was the ' sauncy,' free-spoken, pleas- ant creature : a bad day for us when she took it into her pretty head to marry a stranger, more be 38 NORAH MORI ARTY. token a Sassenach — bad manners to him ! And a murdering shame of our own gentlemen to let a beautiful good young lady like Miss Nellie out of the country," growled Thade, who had been devoted to Miss Nellie O'Brien, and bore a slight grudge to the young Englishman who had lately carried off that young lady to an English home. " Bless you ! " laughed Thade's wife, " it would never do to clip the wings of all our angels and keep them at home. Sure if we did, our quality are that good there would be nothing left for the blessed saints to do for us ! My hand for you, it is good to send a fine pattern of an Irish wife across the water, to let the English people see what we are made of. Myself believes some of them thinks we are all Turks and haythins — not the same flesh and blood at all as themselves, just a taste of the devil, with a pound of superstition and a round stone or two of natural ignorance. Bedad ! I wish they would understand English and Irish are just alike, ounce for ounce good sound flesh ; honest hearts with a grain of jealousy ; heads so full of our own notions we have no patience with each other's quirks ; and fools all of us, IRISH SENTIMENTS IN BYGONE DAYS. 39 following the first rogue who promises a royal road to wealth, and lashings of food to the hungry stomach. No, no, Thade ; Sir Eichard, though he is an Englishman, is just as well-spoken a gentle- man as if he were Irish, as kind-hearted and open-handed a man as ever wore shoe-leather. He deserved a good wife, signs by he has got one in Miss Nellie. Myself well remembers the first day he came after her. Our baby was lying in the room." Here the young wife, now a childless mother, took the corner of her apron to wipe away a tear of regret for her " first-born," now asleep under the green sod in Magourney churchyard. " Herself went in to see the child, and himself sat down there, on the settle, for all the world as quiet and easy as if he were my foster-brother. Holdimr his hat in his hand as if I were a ladv, and talking as pleasant and friendly as Master Harry himself does. And sure I mind well, when our trouble eame, and the good Lord took our lamb. Sir Richard himself was not too proud to come round the door after Miss Nellie — no more did he forget, and he going out, to slip a sovereign 40 NORAH MOEIAETY. on the dresser for the burying. For that same the good gentleman will always have my prayers, and yours also, Thade Moriarty, if you are the honest boy I took you for when I went before the priest with you. Glory be to goodness ! sure Sir Eichard Paget can no more help being born an English gentleman, than you can avoid being a born Irish goose ! Sir Pdchard is a gentleman every inch of him, an Englishman of good sense and good taste, as he showed when he carried home our wild rose from Meadowlees," ended Norah Moriarty, as with graceful adroitness she turned out the steaming lumpers (i.e., potatoes) from the black pot on to the clean but coarse homespun table - cloth. These, with a willow pattern plate containing salt at one end, and one of butter at the other, and two shining " quarts " full of thick milk, furnished the table. To this plain but wholesome meal the pair sat down, and quickly demolished the smoking pile. Afterwards the master tackled his horse and trotted off to the bog, while the mistress put what were left of the potatoes in the ashes while she tidied up the kitchen, and carried out the IRISH SENTIMENTS IX BYGONE DAYS. 41 ddhris of their meal to " the friend that paid the rent." After that she tied up the baked potatoes and a pinch of salt in a- clean cloth, took the gallon, into which she poured a liberal allowance of the same sort of milk she and her husband had had for dinner, put the corner of her apron over her head, and, taking the gallon and the potatoes in her hand, went out into the field at the back, where two " boys " were making hay. This was the haymakers' dinner, which Norah left them with a few pleasant words, and then returned to finish her neglected morning's work of " scouring the keelers." Norah scrubbed vigorously ; but while busy with the keelers, kept a watchful eye up the road, down which she knew the bridal pair would pass on their way to the train. Soon the rumble of approaching wheels gladdened her listening ears. Jumping up from her work, Norah ran to the roadside, where, nodding and smiling, she threw a wisp of new-cut hay after the carriage for luck. Norah Moriarty had been the Meadowlees dairy- maid, where Thade had wooed and won her love. 42 NOEAH MORI ARTY. Thade was a small farmer, and his people disliked his marrying without " a fortune." But Norah was a McCarthy ; and a McCarthy alliance, even though the bride was a dowerless orphan, was a feather in the Moriarty cap, the Moriartys having a " black mark " against their name ever since the betrayal of the " Great Earl " and dastardly murder in the Glounaneentha wood. Miss O'Brien had taken much interest in Norah's marriage, and provided many little com- forts for her home. These kindnesses had been duly valued, hence Norah was delighted that her young lady was now married to the best match in the county, and that Mr Fitzgerald was her hus- band's landlord as well as the Earl's heir. 43 CHAPTER III. A LITTLE CLOUD NO BIGGER THAN A MAN'S HAND. Every hour of Mary Fitzgerald's married life de- veloped new beauties in her character, and through the severity of the following winter the neighbour- ing poor had reason to bless the " agent " for mak- ing her his wife. There was a cry of famine in " the distressful country." Ireland again sat a mendicant by the wayside begging, and into poor Erin's outstretched hands England poured her alms. Noble-hearted men and tender women worked early and late endeavouring to alleviate distress. Money was lavishly provided ; ^ and though there ^ A memo, taken from an Irish "National " paper illustrates the use to which some of these "alms" were devoted: "Not- withstanding the widespread distress, and alms-receiving of the 44 XOEAH MOEIARTY. was much actual suffering, there was not a single death from starvation. Employment was scarce. Idle men wanting and unable to procure work wandered to and fro, or stood dejectedly in the market-place waiting — waiting for the work that did not come. Out of the needs of these poor and patient men, political agitators spun a " wick web." The first mischief was a little word whispered in a wild north-west district. There a sheep in wolf's clothing insinuated the root of the present distress — of all famine — in fact, of all Irish woe — was, that Irish tenants were rack-rented. Strangers to the land audaciously accused Irish landlords of being avaricious, careless of " the people's " welfare, greedy of their own luxuries. A whisper here, and a word there, went like fire amongst dry flax, until, with a loud flourish of discord- ant trumpets, an " alien " rabble blew their manu- factured slanders here, there, everywhere. And, as a story never loses in the telling, presently Irish, ' Peter's pence ' amounts this year to a considerably larger sum than usual!" (1880). This year (1881) also: '"Peter's pence ' is a goodly sum, exceeding even last year's amount, " A CLOUD NO BIGGER THAX A MA^ S HAND. 45 some people began to believe the libel — that luxurious landlords grudged tenants their scanty living, and that the rack-renting was the ruin of Ireland, and brought periodical, nay, chronic starvation to the cabin door. Presently this evil tale was wafted across " the silver streak," and earnest Englishmen accepted the theory as an intelligible solution of the oft- recurring Irish grievances — those " disaffections " of the sister isle that are ever a puzzle to, and a thorn in the side of, the " administering power " of the nation. The rack-rent theory was started at an auspicious moment for party politics, as con- current with this " grievance " came the burning question, " AYas Parliament to be dissolved ? " It was. It was not. AU politicians were on the qui vice, and un- scrupulous men cunningly baited their lines to land their fish. After months of uncertainty, months during which hunger was prevalent in Ireland, the crash came, and Parliament was suddenly dissolved. There was to be a general election. 46 NOR AH MORIARTY. And now began the Irish days of terror. Blankshire is a far-away district, little in- fluenced by the outer world, and Killballymac- taggart is one of the few remaining, so to speak, pocket-boroughs. Sir John Castleton, who is an old man, has represented this borough ever since the Earl's brother died, forty years ago. He means to retire, and, as a matter of course, Percy Fitz- gerald is named as his successor. Percy feels no special vocation for Parlia- mentary life. On the contrary, all his instincts centre in and bind him to home. But the borough requests, the Earl desires, and lastly his wife encourages the idea ; so, seeing noblesse oblige, Percy consents to stand for the borough, Nobody dreamed of a contest. Percy Fitz- gerald was considered by his friends as the right man in the right place. Who so well as he knew the wants of the people or the capabilities of the town ? who could have their interest so much at heart ? He was born and bred amongst them, one of their very selves, the one man whose interests were identical with all around, the man who had shown himself willing and capable of ameliorating distress. A CLOUD XO BIGGER THAN A MAN S HAND. 47 Everybody therefore was astounded when the local paper announced a rival candidate was in the field. The Earl was sarcastically incredulous on first hearing this news, then, when convinced of the fact, aghast at the unheard-of insolence. " What ! a stranger daring to oppose my grand- nephew — unheard-of impudence ! " The Earl's amazement grew to disgust when this interloper proved to be a Mr Denis Dymock from Liverpool, a gentleman who had hitherto figured as a retailer of beer, tobacco, and small groceries, — an honest if humble line of life, but one that is not sus- gestive of much knowledge of Irish needs, his- torical or economic, of oratorical, diplomatic, or parliamentary genius. Denis Dymock, however, was of an aspiring nature, one who hungered to put esquire and M.P. after his name — an oppor- tunist who did not hesitate to appropriate an idea. So Denis Dymock, after having spent twenty years of his life weighing scant measure over his counter in Liverpool to the poor, now posed as one anxious to right Irish grievances. The first actual declaration of war was on this 48 NOEAH MORI ARTY. wise. An army of men, fifty at the least, sand- wiched between monstrous green-papered boards, paraded the town. On these boards were set forth the excellences and aspirations of Mr Dymock. He was described as a merchant -prince philan- thropically yearning over suffering Irishmen, — one who would spend his last shilling to see justice done ; one who hated tyranny, and who thought the Irish the finest and most wronged people in the world. This regiment was followed by a wondering crowd of idle men, women, and children. Ere night, every available yard of wall in Killbally- mactaggart was adorned with similar green placards. Plausible promises were printed by the yard, by the mile, posted everywhere, to attract poor, hungry, imaginative Paddy. " The land for the tillers of the soil " sounded well, while the shibboleth, " Ireland for the Irish," was pleasant in their ears. Since Killballymactaggart was first enfranchised, there had never been such a sight, such a hubbub, such a commotion. At first people (Percy amongst them) were in- A CLOUD XO BIGGER THAN A MAN'S HAND. 49 clined to treat this demonstration as a joke. But when night set in, and bands and boys paraded the streets and shouted for " Home Eule ! " " Ireland for the Irish ! " men began to inquire, " Had this audacious stranger a chance of the seat ? " Bets were taken in the club, and long after the decent people went to their beds those green placards troubled their minds. The tcKt stood out clear, shining through the darkness, dancing before their troubled eyes, haunting their restless sleep. " Ireland for the Irish," " The land for the people," shone out everywhere, as if written with phosphoric light upon their walls. There was a prescience of evil as the night grew silent, a silence to be broken again as some drunken men staggered home from the public- house, screaming in insane fashion, " Hooroo ! boor 00 ! Ireland for the Irish 1 " VOL. L 50 CHAPTER IV. THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. • " Idiotic words ! Eidiculous nonsense ! Ireland for the Irish ! " staccatoed Lord Blankshire, almost inarticulate with indignation. " Who is this fel- low ? where did he come from ? wdiat does he mean ? " throwing aside, with a gesture of con- tempt, a green placard of Mr Dymock's which the pressure of circumstances had induced his angry eyes to peruse, — the old gentleman looked at his grand-nephew, who had just arrived. " Xot being acquainted with this patriot's pedi- gree, cannot venture to say who his ancestors were," said Percy, lightly, so far more amused than alarmed at his rival's manifesto. " To the best of my belief, Mr Dyniock was born and bred in Liverpool." THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. 51 " I might have known he was an adventurer ! Bless my soul I what does he mean, grandiloquently calling himself an Irish patriot ? Talking of * the Irish ' at this time of day. Poor fool ! he might as well profess to have found and endeavour to right the wrongs of the lost tribes," snorted the perturbed aristocrat. " Irish grievances are so many and so indigenous, righting them is im- possible without effacing the whole race. Pshaw ! absurd ! ignorant folly 1 " The old man threw up his wizened white face, and with fiery indig- nant eyes looked unutterable things at the ceiling. " The land for the people is a clever idea. Dymock has selected a telling fiction for his text. Clap-trap idioms deceive the ignorant ; agitators who keep their fingers always on the pulse of ' the people,' contrive to resuscitate the grievances which are their daily bread." Percy spoke more thoughtfully than he had done at the first moment, as if the Earl's disbelief in Dymock's programme proved there was some danger in it. " But Ireland never was so quiet, or so pros- perous. Ever since '98 we have been settling down, and now we are settled — yes, settled and .^^f/ 52 NORAH MORIARTY. fairly prosperous. I never — and I have a toler- ably long experience — remember to have seen * the people ' so well off and contented," half queried, half asserted the old man, as he brought his eyes down from the ceiling and looked fixedly at his grand-nephew. " True," assented Percy ; " but that is just what patriots of tlie Dymock type do not want. Dissatisfaction and unrest are what such as he thrive upon. I wonder what special argument Dymock will elaborate at Killballymactaggart. Our people have not hitherto been ambitious politicians, but have wisely trusted tts to look after legislative interests while they attended to their own work." " Yes ; but idleness is the mother of mischief, and there are idle men about." " True ; and ' Ireland for the Irish,' * The land for the people,' are attractive to hungry people." The Earl shook his aristocratic head. His feelings were so outraged by Mr Dymock 's pro- ceedings, that his words were almost inarticulate as he insisted — " Of course this man's intrusion here is a THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. 53 matter of perfect indifference to me; he cannot possibly hurt us." The anxiety overshadowing the self-assertiveness of this statement was painful, and caused Percy to answer the old man with more confidence than he actually felt, for each hour's thought showed him their position was more critical. Mr Fitz- gerald had been so absorbed with improvements and schemes for the amelioration of the tenants, that he had not allowed his mind to dwell on storms elsewhere, and breaths of dissatisfaction had passed unnoticed. These odds and ends of observations now gathered in a dark and ugly cloud, prognosticative of evil. But whatever he thought, it was well to allay the Earl's dismay. Therefore he said, evasively — " Well, I should hope — I think not." " But what does the impertinence mean ? What can a man like him gain by endeavouring to sow dissensions amongst our people ? I really do not know what the world is coming to. All this is the result of educating people above their nat- ural sphere. They learn the ABC of impudence quickly, and then double our trouble in teach- 54 NOEAH MORIARTY. ing them to keep their proper place, Mr Dymock, a grocer from Liverpool, contesting my borough with my heir ! Insufferable insolence ! " The gathering wrath of the potentate rolled out his words in increasing crescendo, and the young man still endeavoured to oil the troubled waters. " Please do not worry yourself ; our people are as yet exempt, and I hope — indeed believe — they are safe not to take this national epidemic. We live outside the political hurly-burly, and you see ' Ireland for the Irish ' will be much more catch- ing in cities than in outlying districts like this. Amongst the maddened crowd of political fire- brands in Cork or Limerick, where a crew of hungry vultures hover, waiting to pick the bones of their richer neighbours, it may have some effect. But here our people are content, and they all know we, have their interests at heart ; we live amongst and do what we can to improve their condition." " But, my dear boy, this is incendiarism. We must be careful. The spark is dropped, who knows what combustibles there may be amongst the rabble ? Ptemember you have not kept the THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. 55 place as exclusive as it ought to be ; a great many new people and new ideas have been imported with your free trade and other follies." The Earl was not sorry to have this opportunity of throwing the agent's misdeeds in his teeth. He ended, " However, we must now put our foot down, and you must turn out this low-bred in- truder." " I suppose so." " Xo supposing ; it must be done. Confound the fellow 1 " gasped the Earl in the depths of his chest, righteous indignation momentarily obliterat- ing courtly habits. " I have neither patience with your supineness, his impudence, nor that laxity of principle which permits such pestilent fellows to be at large." It was many years since any event had so moved Lord Blankshire. His position was as- sailed ; and as days went on, and Mr Dymock's placards were further emphasised by the overt acts and speeches of Mr Dymock's party, the Earl's soul was still more sorely vexed. So excited did the old man become, that Percy, fearing for the conser^uences, and anxious to soothe 56 NORAH MORIARTY. the perturbed spirit, tried to make a burlesque out of what he now feared would prove a grave crisis. " The whole thing is annoying," he would say, — " so absurdly and clumsily managed that one can hardly believe anybody will be taken in by the cheat. An English Dymock as a champion of the Irish, and opposing a Fitzgerald ! Folly on the face of it. What can he know about Ireland's needs ? We are here since Strongbow's days, inter- married with Irish princes, are one of themselves, while this man never saw Ireland till now. He drops his h's all about the place, with nothing Hibernian to recommend him, unless it be im- pudence." " When altering our Prayer-book they ought to have added, ' from all evil-tongued and all ambi- tious adventurers, good Lord, deliver us ! '" gasped the Earl. " I wonder what evil star guided this man here ? " " Oh ! he is just an itinerant cosmopolitan, hawking his wares to find a market, his politics a patchwork of Scotch Eadicalism, Birmingham freethought, Manchester immorality, worked up by Yankee shrewdness, all culminating in a burn- THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. 57 ing desire, not, as he vociferates, to redress Irish grievances, but just to get into Parliament ; and, though Dymock is a clever adventurer, I hardly anticipate his making a fortune out of his motley wares here." " You really think he has no chance," queried the Earl, plaintively. Percy not feeling confident, answered evasively — " There is something almost sublime in nine- teenth-century Englishmen endeavouring to con- done ancestral sins by growing indignant over the oppression of the now extinct Celt. Seven hun- dred years of mistakes are not to be reversed by a fresh series of zealot's blunders. We are a con- glomerate people, the Celt an extinct species — con- querors, settlers, and matrimony having eliminated the aborigines of this green isle." " True," assented the Earl, with an upturned sniff of his nostrils, as he remembered the blue blood of Irish kings flowed in his veins. " We are more Celtic than nine-tenths of those mongrel refuse of all nations which it pleases this ignorant fellow to call the Irish people. Certainly this Dymock's ignorance is surprising — only to be sur- 58 NOEAH MORI ARTY. passed by the credulousness of his dupes," sighed the Earl ; adding sagaciously, " adventurers always turn traitors, and betray the cause they profess to advocate, — we must protect our people from this wolf in sheep's clothing. And — and — remember, our position requires you to win this seat — we must leave nothing to chance — you must leave no stone unturned. It would bring my grey hair with sorrow to the grave if Killballymactaggart were misrepresented by a — a — revolutionary demacfooue." o o " I hope you may live to see me for many years to come representing and working for our people. I have spent all my life here ; I think they like and know me to be their friend, while this man is a stranger. Surely they will prefer me to him." " I hope so. But Irish disaffection is a chronic ailment — one can never reckon when it may break out, or what form it will take." The Earl was now on one of his hobbies. Though he was only going over an often-told tale, Percy wondered as he listened, admiring the energy, though differ- ino- from some of the old man's arc^uments. Wav- ino' his thin white hand authoritativelv, the nono- THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. 59 genarian continued — " The perversity of statesmen is incomprehensible. Liberals and Conservatives alike harbour Cains, — the first deliberately and avowedly doing evil that good may come, com- mitting new robberies as an atonement for past confiscations ; while the latter — well, if Conser- vatives are more conscientious, human nature is weak, and modern politicians prone to succumb to the doctrine of expediency. Oh, I know you differ from me — I am an old Tory, an old fogey, and you young folk think yourselves so wise. But experience has taught me — I know the fallaciousness of political professions of in- tegrity, peace, and prosperity. Integrity is too often smothered by necessity. Peace is only a pie-crust ; prosperity a smoke which may come from a few cinders or a bonfire. Political itiner- ants can make much mischief in Ireland, where our pie-crust of prosperity only covers a smoulder- ing fire of disaffection." " If England will only keep the wet blanket on sedition a little longer, the fire of disaffection will be entirely extinguished, Beaconsfield has shown true genius in the way he has managed 60 NOR AH MORIARTY. the Irish question — a judiciously firm and yet light hand, he does not let them feel the bit, and yet has them well under control. Xo danger of experimental agitators being allowed to blow up expiring ashes as long as he remains in office." " All very fine, but think of Dymock." " Yes ; Dymock. But his Nationalistic splutter is only a flash in the ]oan. You really must not make a grievance out of Dymock." " Humph ! I hope you may be right. Beacons- field is far-seeing. So far he has guided us safely through shoal waters. But what if t]ie reins are jerked out of his strong hand ? " " Oh ! we are a long way off that misfortune. England has learned the value of the man. His wisdom restored her supremacy amongst the nations, brought us Peace with Honour, and England is never ungrateful to those who serve her." " Bah ! nothing so fleeting as popularity. Ee- member O'Connell. This nation was mad about him once — England dreaded and Ireland wor- shipped his power — and now his name has lost THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. 61 its charm. The levelling-down spirit of the age has destroyed respect and encouraged scheming. Humanity gone mad has armed the masses with weapons which will cut the ground from under our feet. We approach the days of ' wars and rumours of war.' Woe is me ! I fear we are on the vero-e of a national suicide." " Xot quite so bad as that. Come, do change the subject ; I want to consult you about those wretched Sheas at Cappa." But the Earl's thoughts were not to be disturbed from their present vein. He went on solemnly — " My boy, though you do not, I remember the beginning of these evils, the sowing of the seed that has grown to be a danger amongst us — Catholic emancipation. That thin-edged wedge opened a gap which year by year has been widened by astute tools of the Papal hierarchy." " Off on a tangent I Eeligious intolerance is long since buried in the grave of mistakes," mut- tered Percy. The Earl overheard, and answered sen t en tiou sly — " You will find to your cost neither intolerance 62 XORAH MORI ARTY. nor mistakes are buried. The former has changed hands, and is now fostered by that wretched May- nooth grant, wrung, contra lonos mores, from the false sentiment of Russell." " Come, come, we have outlived the Inquisition ; I never could see any harm in emancipation ; and as for Maynooth, the only wrong about that was giving such a miserable dole. The nation ought to have given more than a mere pittance for the instruction of her imorant and erring children." " Percy, you astonish me I How can you say Christian England ought to pay for that nursing- mother of sucking iniquity ? It is a shame and a scandal, England clasping hands with antichrist, rearing and instructing priests in the tenets of sedition, that they may the better inculcate dis- loyalty amongst their flocks. She will see her mistake some day, when priests and people turn and rend her." " You are intolerant : religion is far apart from politics ; errors of faith are not incompatible with good citizenship. Xow, for instance, this new craze is quite distinct from sectarian animosity. THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. 63 For my part, I never can see what matters of faith have to do with — let iis say — Parliament or the bench." " Everything. Yes ; just everything and noth- ing. Individual reliction is of course an essence, a question between man and his Maker, — with that the law has no right to interfere. But the voices of men in the State are different. Eoman Catholics there are an evil against which instinct and past actions warn us. The Eomanist is but a feeler for the great organisation of which he is an actual nerve : it is not the religion of the man, but the insidious principle of which he is the instru- ment, that we protest against." " You reallv are too bicroted. As if the views of a few sons of the condemned Church mixing in the councils of the nation could endanger Pro- testant England ! " exclaimed Percy, who, ever busy about practical home reforms, had never troubled his head about religious differences. " I wish it was only my bigotry; but we see the fruits of Maynooth education in agitations like the present. Eemember it is the priests who teach the people, and Maynooth that instructs the priests. 64 NORAH MOEIARTY. Maynootli was the second sop to Cerberus. Lord Palmerston saw it and feared. He, though a Liberal, denounced Popery as the root of Irish agitation, declaring ' the priests were the insti- gators, aiders, and abettors of all disorders and violence — the chief movers, though professed enemies of lawlessness and murder.' Little by little they are ever trying to chain us again to the wheels of that Juggernaut, Eome." " Yours is an old-world belief : all priests are not Judases to their country. Look at Father Matt ; I do not believe a better man exists than Matt GrifPen." " He is an excej)tion that proves the rule. Matt Griffen is a better Christian than priest, an honest gentleman- — too honourable a man to be a tool. Neither is he one of those firebrands who preaches to his people the vicious doctrine, ' Fear only will wring concession from their rulers,' and that free- dom consists in disloyalty." " The priests have not the power they used to have ; the people have become too enlightened to submit to the shackles of superstition." " The fact that some of the pupils scorn their THE BREAKING OF THE ICE. 65 instructors, and aspire to take their own way, does not mend the matter ; for those people who have become undutiful to the Church are also insubordi- nate to all law and order. And you will see, that even out of the misdoings of these disobedient sons of the Church, Eome will reap a harvest." " Nonsense ! this is Popery on the brain," cried Percy ; " the ' red rag ' of Eome has not actuated this modern Home Eule cry. Why, uncle, the army of Nationalists consists of all kinds of impecunious men, of all and of no creeds. The present war-cry is philanthropic humanitarianism gone mad ; the misery of ' the people ' the motive power, the land for the people the quack remedy for their chronic disease." " Just a new name for the old story. The land for the people. Home Eule for Ireland, fixity of tenure — all variations of the Eoman song ; and may be translated — more docile children of mother Church, more strength to the hands of their taxing- master the priest, more pay for the scarlet lady. As rents decrease and landlords starve, you will see Church dues increase and parish priests prosper. The velvet paw conceals sharp talons, solus pojpuli VOL. I. E mdixfiike^ ^ttiEti^ $iiisd6£ «^^ mt»0ittt&^ tiitii liiitefl ^imtt^ iman ^wiift t^^ wifi tdte Idoddyk €«tt9:ifi;&- t&ia^ niteifttfstt^ mtfttid&ii^ iiiS{«Biimim, ^^oii "^cdfu^ &tii£ Wtr tom^b: dteur iftic 2^i«l lie ^ tuft auMStn^g^Ite '^'ISJiti: miictt^ lihHii I