Chapter 28. Darby Is A Spiritual Ganymede

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_ CHAPTER XXVIII. Darby is a Spiritual Ganymede

--Preparations for the Great Discussion, which we do not give--Extraordinary Hope of a Modern Miracle--Solomon like an Angel looking into the Gospel.

On the morning of the appointed day, the walls of Castle Cumber were duly covered with placards containing the points to be discussed, and the names of the speakers on both sides of the question. The roads leading to the scene of controversy were thronged with people of all classes. Private jaunting cars, gigs, and carriages of every description, rolled rapidly along. Clergymen of every creed, various as they are, moved through the streets with eager and hurried pace, each reverend countenance marked by an anxious expression arising from the interest its possessor felt in the result of the controversy. People, in fact, of all ranks and religions, were assembled to hear the leading men on each side defend their own creeds, and assail those of their enemies. The professional men relinquished, for the day, their other engagements and avocations, in order to be present; and invalids, who had not been long out of their sick rooms, tottered down, wrapped in cloaks, to hear this great display of learning and eloquence. Early on the preceding morning, the Catholic Clergy, though without the sanction of their Bishops, formally signified to the committee of the society, their intention of meeting them man to man on the platform. Before the door was open to the crowd at large, the opposing clergymen and the more select friends on both sides were admitted by a private entrance. The gallery was set aside for ladies, who, in Ireland, and we believe everywhere else, form an immense majority at religious meetings.

When the house was thronged to suffocation, none but a man intimately acquainted with the two-fold character of the audience, could observe much more within it, than the sea of heads with which it was studded. The Protestant party looked on with a less devoted, but freer aspect; not, however, without an evident feeling and pride in the number and character of their champions. A strong dash of enthusiasm might be seen in many fair eyes among the females, who whispered to each other an occasional observation concerning their respective favorites; and then turned upon the divine champions, smiles that seemed to have been kindled by the sweet influences of love and piety. Among the Roman Catholic party there was an expression of wonder created by the novelty of the scene; of keen observation, evinced by the incessant rolling of their clear Milesian eyes from one party to another, together with something like pity and contempt for the infatuated Biblemen, as they called them, who could so madly rush upon the sharp theological spears of their own beloved clergymen. Dismay, or doubt, or apprehension of any kind, were altogether out of the question, as was evident from the proud look, the elated eye, and the confident demeanor by which each of them might be distinguished. Here and there, you might notice an able-bodied, coarse-faced Methodist Preacher, with lips like sausages, sombre visage, closely cropped hair, trimmed across his face, sighing from time to time, and, with eyes half closed, offering up a silent prayer for victory over the Scarlet Lady; or, perhaps, thinking of the fat ham and chicken, that were to constitute that day's dinner, as was not improbable, if the natural meaning were to be attached to the savory spirit with which, from time to time, he licked, or rather sucked at, his own lips. He and his class, many of whom, however, are excellent men, sat at a distance from the platform, not presuming to mingle with persons who consider them as having no title to the clerical character, except such as they conveniently bestow on each other. Not so the Presbyterian Clergymen who were present. They mingled with their brethren of the Establishment, from whom they differed only in a less easy and gentlemanly deportment, but yielded to them neither in kindness of intellect, firmness, nor the cool adroitness of men well read, and quite as well experienced in public speaking. At the skirt of the platform sat the unassuming Mr. Clement, a calm spectator of the proceedings; and in the capacity of messenger appeared. Darby O'Drive, dressed in black--he had not yet entered upon the duties of his new office--busily engaged in bringing in, and distributing oranges and other cooling fruit, to those of the Protestant party who were to address the meeting. High aloft, in the most conspicuous situation on the platform, sat Solomon M'Slime, breathing of piety, purity, and humility. He held a gilt Bible in his hands, in order to follow the parties in their scriptural quotations, and to satisfy himself of their accuracy, as well as that he might fall upon some blessed text, capable of enlarging his privileges. There was in his countenance a serene happiness, a sweet benignity, a radiance of divine triumph, partly arising from the consciousness of his own inward state, and partly from the glorious development of scriptural truth which would soon be witnessed, to the utter discomfiture of Popery and the Man of Sin. For some time before the business of the day commenced, each party was busily engaged in private conferences; in marking passages for reference, arranging notes, and fixing piles of books in the most convenient position. Mr. Lucre was in full pomp, exceedingly busy, directing, assisting, and tending their wants, with a proud courtesy, and a suavity of manner, which no man could better assume. The deportment and manners of the Roman Catholic clergy were strongly marked, and exceedingly well defined; especially in determination of character and vigor of expression. In a word, they were firm, resolute, and energetic. Among the latter, the busiest by far, and the most zealous was Father M'Cabe, who assumed among his own party much the same position that Mr. Lucre did among his. He was, no doubt of it, in great glee, and searched out for Mr. Lucre's eye, in order to have a friendly glance with him, before the play commenced. Lucre perceived this, and avoided him as much as he could; but, in fact, the thing was impossible. At length he caught the haughty parson's eye, and exclaimed with a comical grin, which was irresistible--

"I am glad to see you here, Mr. Lucre; who knows, but we may make a Christian of you yet. You know that we, as Catholics, maintain that the power of working miracles is in the Church still; and that, certainly, would prove it."

Mr. Lucre bowed, and smiled contemptuously, but made no reply.

When the chairman was appointed, and the regulations by which the meeting was to be guided, read and assented to by both parties, the melee commenced; and, indeed, we are bound to say, that a melancholy comment upon Christian charity it was. It is not our intention to give anything like a report of this celebrated discussion, inasmuch, as two reports, each the genuine and authentic one, and each most egregiously contradictory of the other, have been for several years before the public, who, consequently, have a far better right to understand the business than we do, who are at this distant date merely the remote historian.

We may be permitted to say, however, that the consequences of this great discussion were such as are necessarily produced by every exhibition of the kind. For a considerable time afterwards nothing was heard between Catholic and Protestant but fierce polemics, and all the trite and wordy arguments that are to be found in the mouths of ignorant and prejudiced men on both sides. The social harmony of the district was disturbed, and that friendly intercourse which should subsist between neighbors, was either suspended or destroyed. A fierce spirit of exacerbation and jealousy was created, and men looked Upon each other with bitterness and resentment; whilst to complete the absurdity, neither party could boast of a single convert to attest the glory of the triumph which each claimed.

At this period, the character of the Castle Cumber yeomanry corps, or as they were called, M'Clutchy's Blood-hounds, was unquestionably in such infamous odor with all but bigots, in consequence of their violence when upon duty, that a few of the more mild and benevolent gentry of the neighborhood, came to the determination of forming a corps composed of men not remarkable for the extraordinary and exclusive loyalty which put itself forth in so many offensive and oppressive forms. Deaker's Dashers were by no means of such rancid bigotry as M'Clutchy's men, although they were, heaven knows, much worse than they ought to have been.

Their most unjustifiable excesses, however, Were committed in his absence, and without his orders; for it is due to Deaker himself to say, that, although a staunch political Protestant and infidel, he never countenanced violence against those who differed from him in creed. Deaker's creed was a very peculiar one, and partook of the comic profligacy which marked his whole life. He believed, for instance, that Protestantism was necessary, but could not for the life of him understand the nature or tendency of religion. As he himself said, the three great Protestant principles and objects of his life were--to drink the "Glorious Memory "--"To hell with the Pope"--merely because he was not a Protestant--and to "die whistling the Boyne Water." If he could accomplish these successfully, he thought he had discharged his duty to his king and country, and done all that could be fairly expected from an honest and loyal Protestant. And, indeed, little, if anything else, in a religious way, was expected from him, or from any other person, at the period of which we write.

Be this, however, as it may, the formation of a new corps of cavalry was determined on, and by unanimous consent, the conduct of the matter in all its departments was entrusted to Mr. Hartley, the gentleman already mentioned, as selected to contest the county against Lord Cumber or his brother, for it had not yet been decided on between them, as to which of them should stand. Lord Cumber expected an Earldom for his virtues, with a seat in the house of Lords, and should these honors reach him in time, then his brother, the Hon. Richard Topertoe, should be put in nomination. In point of fact, matters between the two parties were fast drawing to a crisis, and it was also in some degree to balance interests with Lord Cumber, and neutralize the influence of the Irish government, that Hartley and his friends deemed it advisible to have a cavalry corps at their disposal. The day of the dissolution of parliament was now known, and it naturally became necessary that each candidate should be found at his post.

It was at this very period that a circumstance occurred, which, although of apparently small importance, was nevertheless productive of an incident that will form the catastrophe of our chronicles. Our readers cannot forget the warm language which passed between the man Sharpe and our exquisite friend, Philip M'Clutchy, on their way from Deaker's. Now, it is due to this man to say, that, on looking back at the outrage which occurred in O'Regan's cottage, and reflecting upon the melancholy consequences it produced--not forgetting the heart-rending insanity of O'Regan's wife--he felt deep regret, amounting almost to remorse, for the part which he bore in it. Independently of this, however, the conduct of Phil and his father, in their military capacity over the corps, was made up of such tyrranical insolence at one time, and of such contemptible meanness at another, that the men began to feel disgusted with such sickening alternations of swaggering authority, and base, calculating policy. Many of them, consequently, were heartily tired of their officers, and had already begun to think of withdrawing altogether from the corps, unless there were some change for the better made in it. Now, at this precise state of feeling, with regard to both circumstances, had Sharpe arrived, when he met his lieutenant on the day when that gallant gentleman signalized himself by horsewhipping his grandmother. Phil's threat had determined him to return to the Dashers, but, on hearing a day or two afterwards, that Hartley was about to raise a new corps, composed of well-conducted and orderly men, he resolved not only to offer himself to that gentleman, but to induce all who were moderate among the "hounds," and, indeed, they were not many, to accompany him. This alarmed M'Clutchy very much, because on Lord Cumber's arrival to canvass the county, it would look as if his Lordship's interests had been neglected; and he feared, too, that the withdrawing of the men from his corps might lead to investigations which were strongly to be deprecated. After a day or two's inquiries, therefore, and finding that from eighteen to twenty of his youngest and most respectable yeomanry had not only returned him their arms and appointments, but actually held themselves ready to be enrolled in the Annagh Corps--for so Hartley's was termed--he sat down and wrote the following letter to Lord Cumber:--

"Constitution Cottage, June--

"My Lord:

"Circumstances affecting your Lordship's personal and political interests have recently occurred here, and are even now occurring, which render it my painful duty to communicate with you on the subject without loss of time. I am sorry to say that the conduct of Mr. Hartley, your well known opponent for the county, is not that which becomes a high-minded man. The Cavalry Corps of which your Lordship is Colonel, and which, by the way, has rendered good service in the firm discharge of their duty, has been very much damaged by the extraordinary conduct which that gentleman is pursuing. The fact is, that he has taken it into his head, aided and assisted of course by his friends and political supporters, to raise a corps of Yeomanry Cavalry as it were, in opposition to ours; and this, no doubt, he has a right to do; although I am quite certain, at the same time, that it is done with a view to secure either the support, or at least the neutrality of government; which neutrality would, as your Lordship knows, be a heavy blow to us. However, as I said, he has as good a right as we have to raise his corps; but I do not think he is justified in writing private circulars, or in tampering with the men of our corps, many of whom he has already seduced from their duty, and lured over with honeyed words and large promises to the body he is raising. The fact is, my Lord, if our men were not so devotedly attached to my son and myself as they are, Hartley's unjustifiable interference would leave the corps a mere skeleton. As it is, he has taken eighteen of our very best men from us; by best, I allude only to youth and physical energy, for I need scarcely say, that all the staunch and loyal fellows remain with us. I am sorry to add that Mr. Hickman, as I predicted he would, is vigorously supporting your opponent; and there is a scoundrel here who is often closeted with him--a rascally painter named Easel, quem ego--you see I have a little of my Latin still, my Lord. The fellow--this wild goose, Easel, I mean--says he has come to the neighborhood to take sketches; but if I don't mistake much I shall ere long put him in a condition to sketch the Bay of Sidney. I have already reported him to government, and, indeed, I have every reason to suppose he is a Popish Agent, sent here to sow the seeds of treason and disaffection among the people. Nothing else can account for the dreadful progress which Whiteboyism has made upon your Lordship's property, where it is much more outrageous and turbulent than in any other district that I am acquainted with. I have also to acquaint you, my Lord, that even if I were disposed to keep M'Loughlin and Harman on the property--that is, granting that I were sufficiently treacherous to your interest to do so, it is now out of my power. Their own dishonesty has at length fallen upon their heads. They are bankrupts, and not now in a condition to pay a renewal fine for their leases; but I am happy to inform your Lordship, that my son Phil, and Mr. M'Slime, have each offered five hundred pounds for their respective holdings--a tender which I might in vain expect from any other quarter and which I cannot conscientiously refuse.

"Harman was acquitted for the murder of Harpur--in consequence, it is thought, of a treacherous scoundrel, named Sharpe, who was once one of our corps, having taken a bribe to give evidence in his favor. This same Sharpe is to be a sergeant in Hartley's corps; and, when I say that, Hartley and Harman are and have been on very intimate terms, I think it shows how the wind blows between them, at all events. I have been receiving rent yesterday and to-day, and cannot but regret the desperate state to which things have been brought. There is no gettin' in money, and the only consolation I feel is, that I have honestly and conscientiously discharged my duty. I have cleared a great number of our enemies from the property, but, unfortunately, such is the state of things here, that there is the greater number of the holdings still unoccupied, other tenants that we could depend on being afraid to enter upon them, in consequence of the spirit of intimidation that is abroad. This M'Loughlin is certainly a most consummate swindler: he was unable to pay his rent, and I sent in an execution yesterday; but, as every one knows, fourteen days must elapse before the public auction of property takes place. Judge of my surprise then, when, short as was the time, an affidavit has been made before me, that he and his family have come to the determination of emigrating to America, and, I suppose, by the aid of a midnight mob to take away all that is valuable of their property by force. I consequently must remove it at once, as the law, under such circumstances, empowers me to do--for I cannot sit by and suffer your lordship' to be robbed, in addition to being both misrepresented and maligned by these men and their families. Granting the full force, however, of this unpleasant intelligence, still I do not think it necessary that you should at present leave the circles of polished and fashionable life in which you move, to bury yourself here among a set of malignant barbarians, who would scruple very little to slit your lordship's weasand, or to shoot you from behind a hedge.

"I am in correspondence with Counsellor Browbeater, at the Castle, who, in addition to the glorious privilege of being, as he deserves to be, free of the Back Trot there, is besides a creature after my own heart. We are both engaged in attempting to bring the Spy System to that state of perfection which we trust may place it on a level with that fine old institution, so unjustly abused, called the Inquisition. Browbeater is, indeed, an exceedingly useful man to the present government, and does all that in him lies, I mean out of his own beat, to prevent them from running into financial extravagance. For instance, it was only the other day that he prevented a literary man with a large family from getting a pension from the Premier, who, between you and me, my lord, is no great shake; and this was done in a manner that entitles him to a very lasting remembrance indeed. The principle upon which he executed this interesting and beautiful piece of treachery--for treachery of this kind, my lord, is in the catalogue of public virtues--was well worthy of imitation by every man emulous of office; it was that of professing to be a friend to the literary man, whilst he acted the spy upon his private life, and misrepresented him to the Minister. Oh, you do not know, my lord, how the heart of such a man as I am, warms to the author of this manly act of private treachery and public virtue, and I cannot help agreeing with my friend M'Slime, who, when he heard it, exclaimed with tears of admiration in his eyes, 'it is beautiful--verily the virtuous iniquity of it refreshes me! May that mild, meek, and most gentlemanly Christian, Mr. Browbeater, be rewarded for it! And may the day never come when he shall require to tread in the footsteps of the devil!' Indeed, my lord, I cannot help crying amen to this, and adding, that the remembrance of his virtues may descend and reflect honor on his posterity, as, I have no doubt, they will do. How few like him could transfuse the spirit of the Tipperary assassin into the moral principles of the Castle, for useful purpose? I beg to inclose, your lordship, Mr. Hartley's circular, which, I think, contains an indirect reflection on certain existing bodies of a similar nature, and is therefore, in my opinion, very offensive to us; I also enclose you others which he has written to several of your tenants, who are already members of your own corps,

"I have the honor to be, &c, &c,
"Val M'Clutchy."

The following is the circular alluded to above--

"Sir: As a proposal to raise an additional yeomanry corps of respectable cavalry in Castle Cumber and its vicinity is about to be submitted to the Lord Lieutenant, in order to receive his approbation, your presence is requested at Sam Company's Castle Cumber Arms, at twelve o'clock on Friday next, when it is proposed to name officers, and adopt such further measures as may appear most conducive to the embodiment of the corps with expedition and effect.

"I am, sir,
"Your humble servant,
"Henry Hartley."

To his letter Val received the following reply--

"Belgrave Square.

"Dear Sir: I received your letter, and perfectly agree with you as to the offensive nature of Mr. Hartley's circular, many of which I have had in my possession for some time past. With respect to him, I have only to say, that he and I have agreed to arrange that matter between us, as soon as I reach Castle Cumber. I am sorry that any of my tenants should deserve the character which M'Loughlin and his partner have received at your hand; I dare say, however, that if they did not deserve it they would not get it. The arrangements for their removal, of course I leave as I hitherto have left everything within the sphere of your duty, to your own sense of honesty and justice. Do not, however, take harsh or sudden steps. In the meantime lose not a moment in remitting the needful.

"Yours, &c,
"Cumber."

It is not at all likely that Lord Cumber would ever have noticed Hartley's circular, or troubled himself about the formation of the new corps in the slightest degree were it not for the malignity of M'Clutchy, who not only hated the whole family of the Hartleys from the same principle on which a knave hates an honest man, but in remembrance of that gentleman's cousin having, in his office, and in his own presence, kicked his son Phil and pulled his nose. When enclosing the circular, therefore, to his lordship, he underlined the word "respectable," by which it was made to appear deliberately offensive. Whether it was used with the design of reflecting upon the licentious violence of the blood-hounds, we pretend not to say, but we can safely affirm that the word in the original document was never underlined by Hartley. Lord Cumber, like his old father, was no coward, and the consequence was, that having once conceived the belief that the offensive term in the circular was levelled at his own corps--although he had never even seen it--he, on the receipt of M'Clutchy's letter, came to the determination of writing to Hartley upon the subject.

Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--

"Sir: I have just perused a circular written by you, calling a meeting at the Castle Cumber Arms, with the object of forming what you are pleased to term, a yeomanry corps of respectable cavalry. Now you are perfectly at liberty to bestow whatever epithets you wish upon your new corps, provided these epithets contain no unfair insinuation against existing corps. I think, therefore, that whilst others have been for some time already formed in the neighborhood, your use of the term respectable was, to say the least of it, unhandsome. I also perceive that you have written to some of my tenants, who are already enrolled in the Castle Cumber corps, and am informed that several of my men have already given up their arms and clothing, on account of an application from you to join your corps. I presume, sir, you did not know that these persons belonged to the Castle Cumber troops, for, however anxious in the cause you may be, I need not point out to you a very obvious fact--to wit--that weakening a corps already embodied only tends to defeat the purpose for which it was designed. I take it, therefore, for granted, that no gentleman, however great his influence, would ask any soldier to desert his colors, and I am sure you will tell those men that they ought to remain in the body in which they were enrolled, and in which enrollment their names have been returned to the war office. In conclusion, I think that the tenant who does not reserve to himself the power of serving the landlord under whom he derives the whole of his property, is, in my opinion, both ungrateful and unprincipled: and he who solicits him to resign that essential reservation is, I think, extremely indelicate.

"I am, &c, Cumber."

To this Mr. Hartley sent the following:--

"My Lord: I cannot at all recognize the tyrannical principle you lay down in your definition of the relations between landlord and tenant. I deny that a tenant necessarily owes any such slavish and serf-like duty to his landlord as you advocate; and I am of opinion, that the landlord who enforces, or attempts to enforce such a duty, is stretching his privileges beyond their proper limits. I do not understand that any of your lordship's tenantry have been solicited to join our new corps. I have signed circular letters for my own tenantry, and if any of them have reached yours, it has been without either my consent or knowledge.

"I have the honor to be,
"My lord, &c,
"Henry Hartley."

Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--

"Sir: I beg to inquire whether you apply the word tyrannical to me?

"I have the honor, &c,
"Cumber.

"

Henry Hartley, Esq., to the Eight Hon. Lord Cumber:--

"My Lord: I think if you had read my last communication with due attention, you might have perceived that I applied the term which seems to offend you, to your principles, rather than to yourself. So long as your lordship continues, however, to advocate such a principle, so long shall I associate it with the epithet in question.

"I have the honor, &c,
"Henry Hartley."

Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--

"Sir: Your letter merely contains a distinction without a difference. So long as I identify my principles with myself, or myself with my principles, so long shall I look upon any offence offered to the one as offered to the other. The principle, therefore, which you brand with the insulting epithet tyrannical, is one which I hold, and ever shall hold; because I believe it to be just and not tyrannical. I await your explanation, and trust it may be satisfactory.

"I have the honor to be, &c,
"Cumber."

Henry Hartley, Esq., to the Eight Hon. Lord Cumber:--

"My Lord: I am not anxious to have a quarrel with you, and I believe you will admit that the courage neither of myself nor any one of my family was never called in question. I really regret that any serious misunderstanding should arise between us, from this mere play upon words. I trust, therefore, to your Lordship's good sense, and good feeling, not to press me on this occasion.

"I have the honor, &c,
"Henry Hartley."

Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--

"Sir: I never doubted your courage until now. I have only to say, that I beg an answer to my last letter.

"I have the honor, &c,
"Cumber."

Henry Hartley, Esq., to Lord Cumber:--

"My Lord: Your Lordship will find it in my last but one.

"I have the honor, &c, &c,
"Henry Hartley."

Lord Cumber to Henry Hartley, Esq.:--

"Sir: I beg to say that I shall be in Castle Cumber within a fortnight from this date, and that you shall have early and instant notice of my arrival.

"I remain, &c,
"Cumber."

Henry Hartley, Esq., to Lord Cumber:--

"And I, my Lord, shall be ready to meet you either there or anywhere else,

"And have the honor, &c,
"Henry Hartley."

In the meantime, and whilst this correspondence was going forward, the political reeling about Castle Cumber rose rapidly between the adherents and friends of each. M'Clutchy called a meeting of Lord Cumber's friends and his own, which was held in the public rooms of Castle Cumber. The following is the report taken from the columns of the "True Blue: "--

"At a special meeting of the committee of the Castle Cumber cavalry, held in that town on Monday, the 15th March, 18--, Lieutenant Philip M'Clutchy in the chair.

"Captain Valentine M'Clutchy having communicated to certain of the Castle Cumber corps a circular letter, as well as committee to the effect that Henry Hartley, Esq., having directed private letters, influencing them to withdraw therefrom, and join a troop which he is now about raising, and that in consequence of these steps on his part, several of the Castle Cumber troopers had deserted, and were enrolled in the new corps:--

"And Captain M'Clutchy having laid before the said Committee a copy of a letter which he had drawn up to be sent to Henry Hartley, Esq., and the Committee, having taken the same into their most serious consideration:--

"It was unanimously resolved--That any attempt to induce the defection of any members enrolled in such corps, even to join another corps, is highly injurious to the Institution at large, inasmuch, as it holds out a pernicious example of desertion, and above all, is calculated to excite a jealous electioneering spirit, and create enmity between the yeomanry troops, whose utility and value to the country depend on unanimity and mutual good will.

"Resolved--That the above resolution, together with the following letter signed by the Chairman in the name of the meeting, be forwarded to Henry Hartley, Esq.:

"'Sir--Having associated for the safety and quiet of this portion of the country, aa well as for the protection of our families and properties, we feel ourselves particularly called upon, on an occasion like the present, to stand forward and repel the attack made upon this loyal corps, and, indeed, on the whole body of yeomanry throughout this kingdom--in spiriting away, by your letters and undue influence, some of our members, and attempting to procure others to be withdrawn from a corps already enrolled, armed, and complete. Be assured, sir, we shall be at all times ready, and happy to afford every assistance in the formation of any new corps in our neighborhood, provided this co-operation shall have no effect in diminishing our own.

"'We, therefore, call upon you to reflect on the measures you have taken and are taking, and not to persevere in the error of keeping such deserters from our troop as have joined yours; as we shall in the case of your persisting to do so, most certainly publish the whole course of your proceedings in this matter for the satisfaction of our loyal brethren throughout the kingdom, and leave them to decide between you and us.

"'Philip M'Clutchy, Chairman.
"'Valentine M'Cldtchy, Captain.
"'Richard Armstrong, Second Lieutenant.
"'Robebt M'bullet.
"'Charles Cartridge.
"'Boniface Buckram.
"'Dudley Fulton, Secretary.'"

To these documents, which were so artfully worded as to implicate Hartley without openly committing themselves, that gentleman having already had the understanding with Lord Cumber of which our readers are already cognizant made the following brief reply.

"'To Richard Armstrong, Esq., second Lieutenant of the Castle Cumber Cavalry:--

"Sir: I have received two resolutions passed at a meeting of your troop in Castle Cumber, and regret to say, for the sake of the Yeomanry service of the country, that I cannot send any communication to those who bear the two first names on your committee. I trust I am a gentleman, and that I shall not knowingly be found corresponding with any but gentlemen. I have only now simply to say, that I repel with great coolness--for indignation I feel none--the charges that have been brought against me, both in the resolutions, and the letter which accompanied them. Neither shall I take further notice of any letters or resolutions you may send me, as I have no intention in future of corresponding with any one on the subject, with the exception of Lord Cumber himself, with whom I have had recent communications touching this matter.

"I am, sir, &c, "Henry Hartley."

Our readers are, no doubt, a good deal surprised, that Phil, knowing, from sad experience, the courage for which all the Hartley family were so remarkable, should have ventured to undertake the post of chairman, on an occasion where such charges were advanced against the gentleman in question. And, indeed, so they ought to be surprised, as upon the following morning no man living felt that sensation so deeply or painfully as did worthy Phil himself, who experienced the tortures of the damned. The whole secret of the matter, therefore, is, that Phil had lately taken to drink--to drink at all hours too--morning, noon, and night. In vain did his father remonstrate with him upon the subject; in vain did he entreat on one occasion and command on another. Phil, who was full of valor under certain circumstances, told his father he did not care a curse for him, and d--d his honor if he would allow him to curb him in that manner. The fact is, that Phil was at the present period of our tale, as corrupt and profligate a scoundrel as ever walked the earth. His father had no peace with him and received little else at his hands than contempt, abuse, and threats of being horsewhipped. Perhaps if our readers can remember the extermination scene at Drum Dhu, together with the appearance of Kate Clank, they will be disposed to think that the son's conduct now, was very like judicial punishment on the father for what his own had been. Be this as it may--on the following morning after the meeting at Castle Cumber, Phil's repentance, had it been in a good cause, ought to have raised him to the calendar. In truth, it rose to actual remorse.

"Damn my honor, M'Clutchy"--for that was now the usual respectful tone of his address to him--"were you not a precious old villain to allow me to take the chair yesterday, when you knew what cursed fire-eaters these Hartleys are?"

"That, Phil, comes of your drinking brandy so early in the day. The moment you were moved into the chair--and, by the way, I suspect M'Bullet had a mischievous design in it--I did everything in my power, that man could do, to prevent you from taking' it."

It's a d----d bounce, M'Clutchy, you did no such thing, I tell you. D--n you altogether, I say! I would rather the devil had the whole troop, as he will too, with Captain M'Clutchy at the head of them--"

"Don't get into insubordination, my hero," said his father; "why do you put me over Lord Cumber's head?"

"Ay," replied the son, "when sending you-to Headquarters, you mean; yes, my old knave, and when he and you and the whole kit of you get there, you'll know then what permanent duty means. That scoundrel Hartley will be sending a challenge to me."

"Make your mind easy, Phil," replied his virtuous father, "there is not the slightest danger of that; here's his reply to Armstrong, which Dick himself handed me in Castle Cumber, a while ago. Read that and let it console you."

Phil accordingly read Hartley's letter, in which both he and his father were mentioned with such marked respect; and never did reprieve come to a shivering, inanimate, and hopeless felon with the hangman's noose neatly settled under his left ear, with a greater sense of relief than did this communication to him. In fact, he had reached that meanness and utter degradation of soul which absolutely feels comfort, and is glad to take refuge, in the very contempt of an enemy.

"I hope you're satisfied," said his father.

"All right, my old fellow--all right, Captain M'Clutchy, Magistrate and Grand-juror. Damn my honor, but you're a fine old cock, Val--and now I have spirits to take a glass of brandy, which I hadn't this whole morning before."

"Phil," said the father, "how do you think I can ever get you appointed to the magistracy if you take to drink?"

"Drink! why, blood, my old boy, is it this to me! Do you mean to tell me that there are no drunken magistrates on the bench? Drink! why, man, let me drink, swear, and play the devil among the ladies, surely you know that my thorough Protestantism and loyalty will make up for, and redeem all. Hey, then, for the glass of brandy, in which I'll drink your health, and hang me, I'll not abuse you again--unless when you deserve it, ha, ha, ha!"

"At all events," said Val, "keep yourself steady for this day; this is the day, Phil, on which I will glut my long cherished vengeance against Brian M'Loughlin--against him and his. I shall leave them this night without a roof over their heads, as I said I would, and, Phil, when you are in possession of his property and farm, and he and his outcasts, he will then understand what I meant, when I told him with a boiling heart in Castle Cumber Fair, that his farm and mine lay snugly together."

"But what will you do with the sick woman, I mean his wife?" asked Phil, putting a glass of brandy to his lips, and winking at his father; "what will you do with the sick woman, I say?"

Val's face became so frightfully ghastly, and presented so startling a contrast between his complexion and black bushy brows, that even Phil himself got for a moment alarmed, and said:--

"My God, father, what is the matter?"

Val literally gasped, as if seeking for breath, and then putting his hand upon his heart, he said--

"Phil, I am sick here--"

"I see you are,"' said Phil, "but what is the matter, I say again? why are you sick?"

"Vengeance, Phil; I am sick with vengeance! The moment is now near, and at last I have it within my clutch;" and here he extended his hand, and literally made a clutch at some imaginary object in the air.

"Upon my honor," said Philip, "I envy you; you are a fine, consistent old villain."

"The sick woman, Phil! By the great heavens, and by all that they contain--if they do contain anything--I swear, that if every individual of them, men and women, were at the last gasp, and within one single moment of death--ha! hold," said he, checking himself, "that would never do. Death! why death would end all their sufferings."

"Oh, not all, I hope," said Phil, winking again.

"No matter," resumed Val, "their sufferings in this life it would end, and so I should no longer be either eye-witness or ear-witness of their destitution and miseries. I would see them, Phil, without house or home--without a friend on earth--without raiment, without food--ragged, starved--starved out of their very virtues--despised, spat upon, and trampled on by all! To these, Phil, I thought to have added shame--shame; but we failed--we have failed."

"No," replied Phil, "I give you my word, we did not."

"We did, sir," said the father; "Harman and she are now reconciled, and this is enough for the people, who loved her. Yes, by heavens, we have failed." Val sat, or almost dropped on a chair as he spoke, for he had been pacing through the parlor until now; and putting his two hands over his face, he sobbed out--groaned even with agony--until the tears literally gushed in torrents through his fingers. "I thought to have added shame to all I shall make them suffer," he exclaimed; "but in that I am frustrated." He here naturally clenched his hands and gnashed his teeth, like a man in the last stage of madness.

On removing his hands, too, his face, now terribly distorted out of its lineaments by the convulsive workings of this tremendous passion, presented an appearance which one might rather suppose to have been shaped in hell, so unnaturally savage and diabolical were all its outlines.

Phil, who had sat down at the same time, with his face to the back of the chair, on which his two hands were placed, supporting his chin, kept his beautiful eyes, seated as he was in that graceful attitude, fixed upon his father with a good deal of surprise. Indeed it would be a difficult thing, considering their character and situation, to find two countenances more beautifully expressive of their respective dispositions. If one could conceive the existence of any such thing as a moral looking-glass placed between them, it might naturally be supposed that Val, in looking at Phil, saw himself; and that Phil in his virtuous father's face also saw his own. The son's face and character, however, had considerably the advantage over his father's. Val's presented merely what you felt you must hate, even to abhorrence; but the son's, that which you felt to be despicable besides, and yet more detestable still.

"Well," said Phil, "all I can say is, that upon my honor, my worthy father, I don't think you shine at the pathetic. Damn it, be a man, and don't snivel in that manner, just like a furious drunken woman, when she can't get at another drunken woman who is her enemy. Surely if we failed, it wasn't our faults; but I think I can console you so far as to say we did not fail. It's not such an easy thing to suppress scandal, especially if it happens to be a lie, as it is in the present case."

"Ah," said the father with bitterness, "it was all your fault, you ill-looking Bubber-lien. (*An ignorant, awkward booby.) At your age, your grandfather would not have had to complain of want of success."

"Come, M'Clutchy--I'll not bear this--it's cursed ungenerous in you, when you know devilish well how successful I have been on the property."

"Ay," said Val, "and what was the cause of that? Was it not merely among those who were under our thumb--the poor and the struggling, who fell in consequence of your threats, and therefore through fear of us only; but when higher game and vengeful purposes were in view, see what a miserable hand you made of it. I tell you, Phil, if I were to live through a whole eternity, I could never forgive M'Loughlin the triumph that his eye had over me in Castle Cumber Fair. I felt that he looked through me--that he saw as clearly into my very heart, as you would of a summer day into a glass beehive. My eye quailed before him--my brow fell; but then--well--no matter; I have him now--ho, ho, I have him now!"

"I wonder the cars and carts are not coming before now," observed Phil, "to take away the furniture, and other valuables."

"I am surprised myself," replied Val; "they ought certainly to have been here before now. Darby got clear instructions to summon them."

"Perhaps they won't come," observed the other, "until--Gad, there's his rascally knock, at all events. Perhaps he has sent them up."

"No," said Val; "I gave him positive instructions to order them here in the first instance."

Darby now entered.

"Well, Darby," said Val, who, on account of certain misgivings, treated the embryo gaoler with more civility than usual; "what news? How many cars and carts have von got?"

Darby sat down and compressed his lips, blew out his cheeks, and after looking about the apartment for a considerable time, let out his breath gradually until the puff died away.

"What's the matter with you, Darby?" again inquired Val.

Darby went over to him, and looking seriously into his face--then suddenly laying down his hat--said, as he almost wrung his hands--

"There's a Spy, sir, on the Estate; a Popish Spy, as sure as Idolathry is rank in this benighted land."

"A Spy!" exclaimed Phil, "we know there is."

"Be quiet, Phil--who is he, Darby?"

"Why, sir, a fellow--of the name of Weasand--may Satan open a gusset in his own for him this day! Sure, one Counsellor Browbeater, at the Castle, sir--they say he's the Lord o' the Black Trot--Lord save us-- whatever that is--"

"The Back Trot, Darby--go on."

"Well, sir, the Back Trot; but does that mean that he trots backwards, sir?"

"Never mind, Darby, he'll trot anyway that will serve his own purposes--go on, I tell you."

"Well, sir, sure some one has wrote to this Counsellor Browbeater about him, and what do you think, but Counsellor Browbeater has wrote to Mr. Lucre, and Mr. Lucre spoke to me, so that it's all the same as if the Castle had wrote to myself---and axed me if I knewn anything about him."

"Well, what did you say?"

"Why, I said I did not, and neither did I then; but may I never die in sin, but I think I have a clue to him now."

"Well, and how is that?"

"Why, sir, as I was ordhering the tenantry in wid the cars and carts to remove M'Loughlin's furniture, I seen this Weasand along wid Father Roche, and there they were--the two o' them--goin' from house to house; whatever they said to the people I'm sure I don't know, but, anyhow, hell resave--hem."

"Take care, Darby," said Val, "no swearing--I fear you're but a bad convert."

"Why, blood alive, sir," replied Darby, "sure turnin' Protestant, I hope, isn't to prevent me from swearin'--don't themselves swear through thick and thin? and, verily, some of the Parsons too, are as handy at it, as if they had sarved an apprenticeship to it."

"Well, but about this fellow, the Spy?"

"Why, sir, when I ordhered the cars the people laughed at me, and said they had betther autority for keepin' them, than you had for sendin' for them; and when I axed them who it was, they laughed till you'd think they'd split. I know very well it's a Risin that's to be; and our throats will be cut by this blackguard spy, Weasand."

"And so you have got no cars," said Val.

"I got one," he replied, "and meetin' Lanty Gorman goin' home wid Square Deaker's ass--King James--or Sheemus a Cocka, as he calls him--that is, 'Jemmy the Cock,' in regard of the great courage he showed at the Boyne--I made him promise to bring him up. Lanty, sir, says the Square's a'most gone."

"Why, is he worse?" asked Val, very coolly.

"Begad, sir, sure he thinks it's the twelfth o' July; and he was always accustomed to get a keg of the Boyne Wather, whenever that day came round, to drink the loyal toasts in; and nothing would satisfy him but that Lanty would put the cart on Sheemus a Cocka, and bring him a keg of it all the way from the Boyne. Lanty to plaise him, sets off wid himself to St. Patrick's Well, where they make the Stations, and filled his keg there; and the Square, I suppose, is this moment drinkin', if he's able to drink, the Glorious Memory in blessed wather, may God forgive him, or blessed punch, for it's well known that the wather of St. Patrick's Well is able to consecrate the whiskey any day, glory be to God!"

"Damn my honor, Darby," said Phil, "but that's queer talk from a Protestant, if you are one."

"Och, sure aren't we all Protestant together, now?" replied Darby; "and sure, knowing that, where's the use of carryin' the matter too far? Sure, blood alive, you wouldn't have me betther than yourselves? I hope I know my station, gintlemen."

"Ah, Darby," said Phil, "you're a neat boy, I think."

"What's to be done?" asked Val; "their refusal to send their horses and cars must be owing to the influence of this priest Roche."

"Of course it is," replied the son; "I wish to God I had the hanging of him; but why did you send to those blasted papists at all? sure the blood-hounds were your men."

"Why did I, Phil? ah, my good shallow Son--ha, why did I?" he spoke in a low condensed whisper, "why, to sharpen my vengeance. It was my design to have made one papist aid in the oppression of another. Go off, Darby, to Castle Cumber, and let twelve or fourteen of my own corps come to M'Loughlin's with their horses and carts immediately;--call also to M'Slime's, and desire him to meet me there forthwith; and bid Hanlon and the other two fellows to wait outside until they shall be wanted. The sheriff will be at M'Loughlin's about two o'clock."

After Darby had gone, Val paused for a while, then rose, and walked about, apparently musing and reflecting, with something of uneasiness and perplexity in his looks; whilst Phil unfolded the True Blue, and began to peruse its brilliant pages with his usual nonchalance.

"Phil," said the father, "there is one thing I regret, and it is that I promised Solomon Harman's farm. We should, or rather you should, you know, have secured both--for I need not tell you that two good things are better than one, and as my friend Lucre knows--who, by the way, is about to be made a bishop of, now that he of ------ ------ has gone to his account. Solomon, however, having been aware of the fines they offered, ex officio, as the Law Agent, I thought the safest thing was to let them go snacks. If, however, we could so manage, before Lord Cumber's arrival, as to get him discarded, we might contrive to secure the other farm also. The affair of the young woman, on which I rested with a good deal of confidence, would, I am inclined to think, on second consideration, rather raise him in that profligate Lord's esteem than otherwise."

"Why, did you not hear that he was publicly expelled from the congregation?" said Phil; "and as to the history of Susanna, that's all over the parish these two days. Her father brought the matter before the congregation, and so far Solomon's hypocrisy is exposed."

"In that case, then," said Val, "something may be done yet. We must only now endeavor to impress Lord Cumber with a strong sense of what is due to public opinion, which would be outraged by having such a Law Agent on his estate. Come, leave the matter to me, and we shall turn Solomon's flank yet; I know he hates me, because I curtailed his pickings, by adopting the system of not giving leases, unless to those on whom we can depend. Besides, the little scoundrel has no political opinions whatsoever, although an Orangeman."

"Come, my old cock, no hypocrisy; what political opinions have you got?"

"Very strong ones, Phil."

"What are they?--you hate the papists, I suppose?"

"Cursed stuff, Phil; the papists are as good as other people; but still I hate them, Phil, because it's my interest to do so. A man that's not an anti-papist now is nothing, and has no chance. No, Phil, I am not without a political opinion, notwithstanding, and a strong one too."

"What is it, then?"

"Here," said he, laying his hand upon his breast, "here is my political opinion. Valentine M'Glutchy, Phil, is my political creed, and my religious one too."

"After all," replied Phil, "you are a chip of the old block."

"Yes, Phil; but I don't parade it to the world as he does--and there's the difference."

"Well, thank heaven," said the son, "I have no brains for any creed; but I know I hate Popery and the Papists as I do the devil."

"And that, Phil, is the enlightened sentiment upon which all bigotry and mutual hatred between creeds is based. But you, Phil, could never be so vexatious as a foe to Popery as I could--your very passions and prejudices would occasionally obstruct you even in persecution--but I--I can do it coolly, clearly, and upon purely philosophical principles. I hate M'Loughlin upon personal principles--I hate the man, not his religion; and here there must be passion: but in matters of religion, Phil, there is nothing so powerful--so destructive--so lasting--so sharp in persecution--and so successful, as a passionless resentment. That, Phil, is the abiding and imperishable resentment of churches and creeds, which has deluged the world with human blood."

"Curse your philosophy, I don't understand it; when I hate, I hate--and I'm sure I hate Popery, and that's enough." _

Read next: Chapter 29. Solomon Suffers A Little Retribution

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