The Macdermots of Ballycloran

In the meantime Thady had been honestly firm to the promise he had made to Father John, not to join the Mulreadyites. His sister's absence from Ballycloran at the present time had been a relief to him; and on the morning after his visit to the priest he had returned to his work, not certainly with much happiness or satisfaction, but still with his mind made up to struggle on in the best way he could – to do nothing which he knew to be wrong, and come what come might, to leave Reynolds and his associates to their own schemes and villanies. He felt determined, if he could not protect himself and his family from his enemies by honest means, to leave it to circumstances to protect him; and though he could not shake off a deep desponding as to the future, still there was a kind of contentment in the feeling that he knew he had to suffer, and that he had made up his mind to do so firmly and bravely.

On the Saturday morning, Pat Brady had again come to his master, informing him that all the boys were to be on that evening at the whiskey shop, and using all his powers of oratory to induce him to come down; but Thady was firm, and he not only refused to come then, but plainly told Pat that he had entirely altered his mind, and that he did not intend to go down to them at all. He advised Pat also to give them up, hinting that if he did not, they two, viz., Pat Brady and Thady Macdermot, would probably soon have to part company.

This was a threat, however, for which Pat did not much care; for he knew that there was little more to be made by his old master; and, like a wise man, he had already provided himself with a new one, and a more prosperous and wealthy one than him he was going to leave. Rats always leave a falling house, and Brady was a real rat.

Still, however, though he did not expect to get much more from his service with Thady, he was, for his own reasons, anxious that his present master should not be quit of the companions with whom he had been so anxious to join him: and therefore when he found that he could no longer work on his master's mind by the arguments he had hitherto used, he began to threaten him – telling him of the different perils from the law which he would have to encounter by having joined the party, and various dangers to which he would subject himself by deserting it. But in vain – Thady was firm; and when Pat got violent and inclined to be impertinent on the subject, he told him that he would knock him down with the alpine in his hand if he said another word about it.

On Sunday, Thady went to mass, and afterwards took a walk with his friend the priest, who said everything he could to raise his spirits, and to a certain degree he did so. On the next morning, as he was going to his work, a messenger brought a letter from Keegan to his father. This was a legal notice on Flannelly's part, that on some day in November, which was named, he – Flannelly – would require not only the payment of the interest money which would then be due, but also the principal; and in this notice was set forth the exact sum to be paid for principal, for interest, for costs; and it further stated that if the sum was not paid on or before that day, writs would be issued for his body – that is the body of poor Larry Macdermot – and latitats, and sheriff's warrants, and Heaven knows what besides, for selling the property at Ballycloran; and that the mortgage would be immediately foreclosed, and the property itself disposed of for the final settlement of the debt.

This agreeable document was very legibly addressed to Lawrence Macdermot, Esq., &c. &c. &c., Ballycloran; and its unusual dimensions and appearance made Thady at once feel that it was some infernal missile come still further to harass him, and leave him, if possible, more miserable than it found him. However, such as it was, it was necessary that it should be read; so he took it to his father, and having broken the seal, said, —

"Here's a letter from Keegan, Larry; shall I read it you?"

"D – n Keegan," was the father's consolatory reply, "I don't want his letters. I tell you he can't call for his money before November, and this is October yet."

"That's thrue," said Thady, when he had spelt through the epistle; "that's thrue, father; but this is to say that he manes to come in 'arnest, when that time comes."

"And don't he always come in 'arnest? is it in joke he comes, when he axes for a hundred pound every half year? come in 'arnest! why, d – n him, he's always in 'arnest!"

"But, father, it's not only the hundred pound now, but the whole debt he demands;" and, at last, Thady succeeded in reading the letter to his father.

Larry at first got into a violent passion, swearing fearfully at Keegan, and hinting that he, Larry, knew well enough how to take care of his own body; and that he, Keegan, might get more than he bargained for, if he came to meddle with it. After that he began to whimper piteously and cry, complaining that it was a most grievous thing that his own son should bring such a letter to him; and he ended by accusing Thady of leaguing with the attorney to turn him out of his own house, and even asked him whether, when they had effected their purpose, he and Keegan intended to live at Ballycloran together.

All this was not comfortable. Thady, however, quietly folded up the letter, put it in the old bureau, left his father to his pipe and his fireside, and went out again to his occupations.

Nothing new occurred at Ballycloran for a few days, and he began to flatter himself that Mrs. Mulready's boys and their threats would annoy him no more, and he was even thinking of sending Pat down to Drumleesh to notice the tenants again to come up with the rents, if it were only to see what steps they would then take. As he was returning home, however, on Friday evening, across the fields, a little after dusk, he saw the figure of a man standing in a gap through which he had to pass, and when he came close to him, he perceived it was Joe Reynolds.

Thady had been rather surprised that he had not seen Joe before, and had been inclined to think that that worthy gentleman had been intimidated, when he heard of his own defection; but Joe was not a character so easily frightened. The truth was that he had for the last few days left his own cabin at Drumleesh, and had been engaged with others in the mountains which lay between Loch Sheen and Ballinamore, in making potheen in large quantities, and drinking no small portion of what they made. The morning after the wedding, he had been boasting to his comrades there of the success he had had in bringing over his landlord to their ranks; and he had brought down a large party of them from that quarter, all sworn friends, to be present at his proposed initiation – and great was their wrath and loud were their threatenings when they found that Thady would not come. Joe had, however, been obliged to join them again at their business, and though he had heard the ill success of Brady's second attempt, he had not been able till now to try the effects of his own eloquence.

He had now come down for that purpose, and had been for the greater portion of the evening watching Thady, till he could get a good opportunity of talking to him undisturbed; and he was now determined not to leave him, till he had used every means in his power of inducing him to change the resolution to which he had so suddenly come.

When Thady came close to him he respectfully raised his old battered hat, and said —

"Long life to ye, Mr. Thady; I hope yer honer is finding yerself well this evening."

"Quite well thank you, Joe," and Joe walked on with him a few steps.

"Have you the rint ready for me yet?" continued Thady.

"Rint is it? faix then I have not – not a penny; but it wasn't rint I was wanting to talk to your honer about just now; not but what the rint 'll be coming, and that right soon, Mr. Thady, and plenty too – if you'll only listen to me."

"Those 'd be glorious times, Joe, when the rint came that way," and Thady walked on faster, for he didn't want to prolong the conversation beyond what he could help.

"Stop, Mr. Thady; what are ye in sich a hurry for? I've come a long way to spake to you – and we'll both talk pleasanter av' you'd go a little aisier."

"Well, Joe, what is it then? I'm in a hurry."

"In a hurry is it? but why wor ye in sich a hurry to break the promise you made us all, at Mrs. Mehan's, Thursday night week past. Ah! Mr. Thady, you worn't in a hurry when you said you'd come down and be one of us at Mohill – ay! and swore it too on the blessed cross; you worn't in sich a hurry then, and what hurries you now so fast?"

"Now, Reynolds, it's no use you're saying more of that. I sent you word by Pat that I wouldn't come, and I won't – so there's an end of it."

"But that an't an end of it; no, nor nigh the end of it; I suppose, Mr. Thady," – and he paused, and, resuming his respectful tone, said, "and didn't you say you niver had deserted us and niver would, and that you'd always stick to us that you've known so long? Shure, Mr. Thady, you'll not change your mind now." And Reynolds paused in the little path they were walking in, and Thady was obliged to stand too, for Reynolds had got before him, and he couldn't pass unless he pushed the man aside. "And shure – do you mane to let Keegan off, and Ussher, the black ruffians, that way; do you intend to put up with everything from the likes of them? Come, Mr. Thady, say the word – only say the word you swore before, and by the holy cross you swore on, before next week is over Keegan shall be put where he'll never spake another bad word, or do another bad deed."

"Come, Reynolds, out of this, and let me pass," said Thady, perceiving that he must now absolutely make the man understand that he was not to be talked over, "out of that, and let me pass. And I'll tell you what, I'll not have my neck in danger; and if I hear you threatening murdher, I'll have you before the magisthrates," and he pushed by the man, who, however, still walked close behind him.

"And is that the way with you now? Have me before the magisthrates will you? and where'd you be all the time? Why there's not one of them that was in it, at Mrs. Mehan's that night, but could have you before the magisthrates, and I'm thinking thim folk would make a deal more of you than they would of me. Av you talk of magisthrates, Mr. Thady, may be you'll find there's too many of them in the counthry for yerself."

Thady walked on fast, but did not answer him, and Reynolds continued – "Come, Mr. Thady, I don't intend to anger you, or affront you; and av I've said anything that way, I axes your pardon; but just answer me – will you come down there only for once, av it wor only becase you swore it afore them all on the holy cross?"

"No, Joe, I will not; av I took any oath at all, I was dhrunk: besides, I said I wouldn't, and I won't; so now good night."

"But, Mr. Thady, av you'd only come there to tell the boys so themselves, it would be all right. Shure you're not afeard to trust yerself among them."

"Not a foot, Joe."

"Well, then, I tell you, you'll be sorry; not that I'd say a word agin you myself, becase though you've ill-trated me now, you wor always a kind landlord, and becase it's not in your heart to hurt a poor man; but I tell you, and you'll find it comes thrue enough, there were them there that night at Mrs. Mehan's as will turn agin you, unless you do as I'm axing you now."

"Well, Joe, I cant help it if they do, so good night."

They had now come to a lane, and as Thady was going to jump on the bank to get over, Joe put his hand on his coat.

"One more word, yer honer, may be yet you'll change your mind."

"Indeed, I shall not then."

"May be you will, and I'm thinking when you find Keegan too hard on you it 'll come to that. Well, av you do, let me know, and I'll make it all right for you. Just tell Corney Dolan, and he's still at Drumleesh, that you're wanting me, and I won't be far off."

Thady did not answer him, but merely saying, "Good night, Joe," jumped into the road, and Joe by some devious path, through bogs and bottoms, betook himself to Mrs. Mulready's, and drowned the feeling of his ill success in whiskey.

Thady went home to his dinner or supper – rather glad that he had had the interview, for the man's manner was not so insolent as he had expected it would be; and he now felt tolerably confident that he should not again be solicited to keep the unfortunate promise which he had made.

His father, however, was still muttering over the misfortunes which he was doomed to bear from the hands of his own son. Thady took all the pains he could, and all the patience he could muster, to prove to the old man that he was only desirous to do the best he could for him and Feemy. He had even told him that he had absolutely quarrelled and come to blows with the attorney, on the day of his visit; but it was all in vain, and when he got himself to bed he was puzzled to think whether Keegan and Ussher, or his father and Feemy, caused him most trouble and unhappiness.

CHAPTER XIX

THE RACES

Although we have hitherto only seen Ussher as a guest at Ballycloran, or figuring as a lion at Mary Brady's wedding, he was, nevertheless, in the habit of frequenting much better society, and was not unfrequently a guest at the houses of certain gentlemen in the neighbourhood of Carrick-on-Shannon.

For Ussher could assume the manners of a gentleman when he chose, and moreover, be a lively and agreeable companion; and this, perhaps, quite as much as the attribute, made him somewhat of a favourite among many of the surrounding gentry. He was, however, more intimate at Brown Hall than at any other house; and he had now been asked over there, to spend the few days previous to his final departure from County Leitrim.

The establishment at Brown Hall consisted of Jonas Brown, the father – an irritable, overbearing magistrate, a greedy landlord, and an unprincipled father – and his two sons, who had both been brought up to consider sport their only business; horses and dogs their only care; grooms and trainers the only persons worthy of attention, and the mysteries of the field and the stable the only pursuits which were fit to be cultivated with industry or learnt with precision. They could read, as was sufficiently testified by their intimate knowledge of the information contained in "Nimrod upon Horses," and the Veterinary Magazine; and the Clerk of the Course at the Curragh could prove that they could write, by the many scrawls he had received from them – entering horses, and giving their particulars as to age, colour, breeding, qualifications, &c., but beyond this they had no acquirements. For the elder son, who was only intended to be a landlord and a magistrate, and to spend about a thousand a year, this did not signify; but for the younger it afforded but a melancholy prospect, had his eyes been open to see it.

For the estate, which was all set at a rack rent, was strictly entailed; and as Jonas had always lived beyond his income, there would be little to leave to a younger son. When their mother died the two young men, together with a sister, had been left to the father's care. She also had learnt to ride, and ride hard – to go to the stable and see that her own horse was made up – and to rate her groom in no gentle terms, if things in that department were not as they should be. She also could be eloquent on thrush, sand-cracks, and overreaches – could detect a splint or a spavin at a glance – knew all the parts and portions and joints of a horse much more accurately than she did of a sheep, and was a thorough judge of condition. Rumour also not unfrequently hinted, among the tabbies of Carrick-on-Shannon, that Miss Julia could not only ride with her brothers in the morning, but that she was also occasionally not ill inclined to drink with them of an evening.

Things were in this state, when it occurred to Jonas and his favourite son Fred, that it were well for all parties if they could get Miss Julia off from Brown Hall, as there was reason to fear she was coming out a little too fast; and that if they did not get rid of her now, she might in a short time become a card somewhat hard to play. They consequently invited a squireen of three or four hundred a year to the house, who had rather unequivocally expressed his admiration for Di Vernon; and under the fostering auspices of father and brother, the two soon made up matters together, though the lady was unable to follow her prototype's example, by wooing her lover over the pages of Dante. However, though Dante was wanting, opportunity was not, which for one so well inclined as Miss Julia was sufficient; and before the young gentleman had been three weeks in the house, Fred was enabled to hint to him one day, as he was pulling off his boots before dinner, that of course he presumed his intentions to his sister were honourable and explicit, now that things had gone so far. Toby Armstrong – for such was the name of Di Vernon's admirer – not relishing pistols and coffee, made no objection to the young lady; but he absolutely refused to take her empty handed, and, in consequence, Jonas and Fred had to hand him over their joint bond for two thousand pounds, before he would be induced to make her mistress of Castle Armstrong. There she now reigned supreme, and it is to be hoped, for the sake of the future generation, that she had by this time learnt to transfer her attention from the stable to the nursery.

The Browns were at any rate quit of the young lady, and had Brown Hall now wholly to themselves; and this was a satisfaction. Still the hundred a year which they had to pay their dear brother-in-law, Toby, was a great loss to them, and made it more improbable that when the old man should be gathered to his fathers, George should have anything to subsist on except his brother's affection and bounty.

As Fred inherited all his father's love of money, joined to an irresistible passion for everything that he called pleasure; and as he was already continually quarrelling with his younger brother, who was as continually impertinent to him, George's prospect in life was not particularly bright. As to turning his mind to any useful pursuit – studying for any profession, or endeavouring in any way to earn his own bread honestly – he would have been as angered and felt as insulted by such a proposition, as though any one had asked him to turn cobbler, and sit cross-legged at the window of one of the little shops at Carrick-on-Shannon.

As, however, he at present had food to eat, wine to drink, horses to ride, and usually cash to bet with, he concerned himself but little for the future; and we, therefore, may fairly be equally apathetic respecting it. It would not, however, be difficult to foretell his fate. Should he not break his neck before his father's death, he will quarrel with and slander his brother; he will ride for those who are young and green enough to trust their horses to him, and pay him for mounting them; he will spunge upon all his acquaintance till he is turned out of their houses; he will be a hanger on at the Curragh and all race-courses; he will finally become a blackleg and swindler; and will die in the Marshalsea, if he does not, as he most probably will, break his neck by a fall from the saddle; for, to the last, George will preserve his pluck – the only quality on which he could ever pride himself.

On the morning of the races the two brothers and Ussher were sitting over a very late breakfast at Brown Hall. The father had long since been out; careful to see that he got the full twelve hours' work from the unfortunate men whom he hired at five pence a day, and who had out of that to feed themselves and families, and pay their rent; we will not talk about clothing them, it would be a mockery to call the rags with which the labouring poor in that part of the country are partially covered, clothes, or to attach value to them, though I suppose they must once have cost something.

"Why, what nonsense, Ussher," said Fred, "to be sending that mare of yours down to Munster; she'd never be fast enough for that country – not the thing at all for Tipperary fences – all gaps and breaks; besides the expense of sending her, and the chances that she's lamed on the road. You'd better let me have her; she's only fit for this country. I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll give you the horse and gig you're to take that girl of yours to Longford in to-morrow for her."

"Hush, man, for G – d's sake! If the servants hear you talking that way, I'm dished. If it once got abroad about my taking her off, I'd have the devil to pay before I got out of the country."

"I believe Ussher thinks," said George, "no one ran away with a girl before himself. Why if you were going to seize a dozen stills, you couldn't make more row about it."

"I shouldn't make any about that, for it would come natural to me; and I'd a deal sooner be doing that, than what I have to do to-morrow night. I'm d – d, but I'd sooner take a score of frieze-coats, with only five or six of my own men to back me, than drive twenty miles in a gig with a squalling girl."

"If you're sick of the job, I'll take her off your hands," said the good-natured Fred.

"Thank ye, no; as I've got so far with it, I believe I'll go on now."

"Well, if you won't take a kind offer about the girl, will you take the one I made about the mare? To tell the truth, I'd sooner have the mare than the girl myself."

"Thank ye, no; I believe I'll keep both."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Fred, getting anxious in his hankering after the mare, "I'll throw the harness into the bargain – spick and span new from Hamilton's. I paid eight pound ten for it not a month since. All the new fashion – brass fittings and brass haines. You could have the crests taken out, and new ones put in, for a few shillings; only send me down the old ones."

"What would I do with a gig and horse? Besides, the gig's shook, the shafts are all loose, and the boxes are battered; and the horse was saying his prayers lately, by the look of his knees."

"Never down in his life, by G – d," said George, willing to help his brother in a matter of horseflesh; "it's only a knock he got when I was trying to put him over the little wall beyond the lawn there; but I couldn't make the brute jump, though he's the sweetest horse in harness I ever sat behind."

Ussher was not to be done; and Fred consoled himself by assuring him that he'd be sorry for it, when he found the mare was not the least use in life down in Munster, and that no one would give him a twenty-pound note for her.

A drag now came round to the door. George was making his toilet before the fire, having eaten about half an ounce of dry toast after his morning exercise under the three great-coats. He was adjusting his boots and breeches – and George was not a little proud of his appearance in his riding costume; the jacket and cap were carried loose; and after many exclamations from Fred, that they would be late, and that as he had backed Conqueror, it was a shame for his brother to give the stewards the chance of starting the horses without him, which were answered by rejoinders from George that they wouldn't dare to do so – showing that he didn't care how much all the rest might be inconvenienced by his delay, so long as he didn't suffer himself, the three got into the conveyance at the door, about an hour after the time at which the horses were advertised to start punctually; and Fred drove them to the course, which was not above a mile distant.

I cannot say that the ground displayed much that was elegant in the way of equipages, or anything very refined in the countenances belonging to the race-course.

The weighing stand consisted of the scales in which potatoes and oats were usually weighed in the market-place in Carrick, and were borrowed from the municipality for the occasion. The judge's chair was formed of a somewhat more than ordinary high stool, with a kind of handle sticking up at one corner, by holding on to which he was barely able to keep his place, so constantly were the mob pressing round him.

There was a stand, from which a tolerable view of the race could be obtained, admission one shilling; but few ascended it, and long before the start, the price had fallen to sixpence.

There were two or three carriages; one containing Counsellor Webb's family. He himself was one of the stewards, and, consequently appeared on horseback in a red coat. Another belonged to Sir Michael Gipson, who owned the greater part of the town, and who drawing about six thousand a year from this county and the next, had given ten pounds, to be run for by farmers' horses, contriving thereby to show them that he thought they ought to indulge in expensive amusements, and to stimulate them to idleness and gambling. As, however, the land in the country was chiefly let in patches under twenty acres each, and to men who were unable to feed the sorry beast necessary to keep them in tillage, Sir Michael's generosity had not the effect which it might be presumed to cause; and his ten pound was annually won by some large tenant, who might call himself a farmer, but who would make a desperate noise if another man presumed to call him anything but a gentleman. Of cars there were plenty, crowded with pretty faces, all evidently intending to be pleased; not invariably, however, for there was Mrs. Keegan in one of those altogether abominable affairs called inside cars, not because you had any of the comforts of an inside place in case of rain, for they have no covering, but because the inmates, sitting on each side, have full power to kick each other's shins, and no liberty to stretch their legs. There she sat alone, as sour as at the moment when she had first seen her Hyacinth as he was deposited by the hotel waiter on the mat inside her hall-door.