Having promised implicit obedience to the worthy priest"s directions, be they what they might, I pledged myself to make up my luggage in the smallest possible s.p.a.ce, and have breakfast ready for him before starting. After a few other observations and some suggestions as to the kind of equipment he deemed suitable to the road, he took his leave, and I sat down alone to a little quiet reckoning with myself as to the past, the present, and the future.
From my short experience of Ireland, the only thing approaching to an abstract principle I could attain to was the utter vanity, the perfect impossibility, of any man"s determining on a given line of action or the steady pursuit of any one enterprise. No; the inevitable course of fate seems to have chosen this happy island to exhibit its phenomena.
Whether your days be pa.s.sed in love or war, or your evenings in drink or devotion, not yours be the glory; for there would seem to be a kind of headlong influence at work, impelling you ever forward. Acquaintances grow up, ripen, and even bear fruit before in other lands their roots would have caught the earth; by them your tastes are regulated, your habits controlled, your actions fashioned. You may not, it is true, lisp in the _patois_ of blarney; you may weed your phraseology of its tropes and figures; but trust me, that if you live in Ireland, if you like the people (and who does not?), and if you are liked by them (and who would not be?), then do I say you will find yourself, without knowing or perceiving it, going the pace with the natives--courtship, fun, frolic, and devilment filling up every hour of your day, and no inconsiderable portion of your night also. One grand feature of the country seemed to me, that, no matter what particular extravagance you were addicted to, no matter what strange or absurd pa.s.sion to do or seem something remarkable, you were certain of always finding some one to sympathise with if not actually to follow you. Nothing is too strange, nothing too ridiculous, nothing too convivial, nothing too daring for Paddy. With one intuitive bound he springs into your confidence and enters into your plans. Only be open with him, conceal nothing, and he"s yours heart and hand; ready to endorse your bill, to carry off a young lady, or carry a message; to burn a house for a joke, or jeopardy his neck for mere pastime; to go to the world"s end to serve you, and on his return shoot you afterwards out of downright good-nature.
As for myself, I might have lived in England to the age of Methuselah, and yet never have seen as much of life as in the few months spent in Ireland. Society in other lands seems a kind of free-masonry, where for lack of every real or important secret men subst.i.tute signs and pa.s.swords, as if to throw the charm of mystery where, after all, nothing lies concealed; but in Ireland, where national character runs in a deep or hidden channel, with cross currents and backwater ever turning and winding--where all the incongruous and discordant elements of what is best and worst seem blended together--there, social intercourse is free, cordial, warm, and benevolent. Men come together disposed to like one another; and what an Irishman is disposed to, he usually has a way of effecting. My brief career had not been without its troubles; but who would not have incurred such, or as many more, to have evoked such kind interest and such warm friendship? From Phil O"Grady, my first, to Father Tom, my last friend, I had met with nothing but almost brotherly affection; and yet I could not help acknowledging to myself, that, but six short months before, I would have recoiled from the friendship of the one and the acquaintance of the other, as something to lower and degrade me. Not only would the outward observances of their manner have deterred me, but in their very warm and earnest proffers of good-nature, I would have seen cause for suspecting and avoiding them. Thank Heaven!
I now knew better, and felt deeper. How this revolution became effected in me I am not myself aware. Perhaps--I only say perhaps--Miss Bellew had a share in effecting it.
Such were some of my thoughts as I betook myself to bed, and soon after to sleep.
CHAPTER x.x.xIII. THE PRIEST"S GIG
I am by no means certain that the prejudices of my English education were sufficiently overcome to prevent my feeling a kind of tingling shame as I took my place beside Father Tom Loftus in his gig. Early as it was, there were still some people about; and I cast a hurried glance around to see if our equipage was not as much a matter of amus.e.m.e.nt to them as of affliction to me.
When Father Tom first spoke of his "dennet," I innocently pictured to myself something resembling the indigenous productions of Loughrea.
"A little heavy or so," thought I; "strong for country roads; mayhap somewhat clumsy in the springs, and not over-refined about the shafts."
Heaven help my ignorance! I never fancied a vehicle whose component parts were two stout poles, surmounting a pair of low wheels, high above which was suspended, on two lofty C springs, the body of an ancient buggy--the lining of a bright scarlet, a little faded and dimmed by time, bordered by a lace of the most gaudy pattern; a flaming coat-of-arms, with splendid blazonry and magnificent quarterings, ornamented each panel of this strange-looking tub, into which, for default of steps, you mounted by a ladder.
"Eh, father," said I, "what have we here? This is surely not the----"
"Ay, Captain," said the good priest, as a smile of proud satisfaction curled his lip, "that"s "the convaniency"; and a pleasanter and an easier never did man sit in. A little heavy, to be sure; but then one can always walk up the hills; and if they"re very stiff ones entirely, why it"s only throwing out the ballast."
"The ballast! What do you mean?"
"Just them," said he, pointing with his whip to some three or four huge pieces of limestone rock that lay in the bottom of the gig; "there"s seven, maybe eight, stone weight, every pound of it."
"And for heaven"s sake," said I, "why do you carry that ma.s.s of rubbish along with you?"
"I"ll just tell you then. The road has holes in it you could bury your father in; and when the convaniency gets into one of them, she has a way of springing up into the air, that, if you "re not watching, is sure to pitch you out--maybe into the bog at the side, maybe on the beast"s back. I was once actually thrown into a public-house window, where there was a great deal of fun going on, and the bishop came by before I extricated myself. I a.s.sure you I had hard work to explain it to his satisfaction." There was a lurking drollery in his eye, as he said these last few words, that left me to the full as much puzzled about the accident as his worthy diocesan. "But look at the springs," he continued; "there"s metal for you! And do you mind the shape of the body? It"s for all the world like the ancient _curriculus_. And look at Bathershin himself--the ould varmint! Sure, he"s cla.s.sical too!
Hasn"t he a Roman nose; and ain"t I a Roman myself? So get up, Captain--_ascendite ad currum_; get into the shay. And now for the _doch-aiv-dhurrss_--the stirrup-cup, Mrs. Doolan: that"s the darlin".
Ah, there"s nothing like it!
"Sit mihi lagena, Ad summum plena."
Here, Captain, take a pull--beautiful milk-punch!"
Draining the goblet to the bottom, which I confess was no unpleasant task, I pledged my kind hostess, who, curtsying deeply refilled the vessel for Father Tom.
"That"s it, Mary; froth it up, acushla! Hand it here, my darlin"--my blessing on ye."
As he spoke, the worthy father deposited the reins at his feet, and lifted the cup with both hands to his mouth; when suddenly the little window over the inn door was burst open, and a loud tally-ho was shouted out, in accents the wildest I ever listened to. I had barely time to catch the merry features of poor Tipperary Joe, when the priest"s horse, more accustomed to the hunting-field than the highroad, caught up the welcome sound, gave a wild toss of his head, c.o.c.ked up his tail, and, with a hearty bang of both hind legs against the front of the chariot, set off down the street as if the devil were after him. Feeling himself at liberty, as well as favoured by the ground, which was all down hill, the pace was really terrific. It was some time before I could gather up the reins, as Father Tom, jug and all, had been thrown at the first shock on his knees to the bottom of the convaniency, where, half suffocated by fright and the milk-punch that went wrong with him, he bellowed and coughed with all his might.
[Ill.u.s.tration: 380]
"Howld him tight I--ugh, ugh, ugh!--not too hard; don"t chuck him for the love of--ugh, ugh, ugh!--the reins is rotten and the traces no better--ugh, ugh, ugh! Bad luck to the villains, why didn"t they catch his head? And the _stultus execrabilis!_--the d.a.m.ned fool! how he yelled!"
Almost fainting with laughter, I pulled my best at the old horse, not, however, neglecting the priest"s caution about the frailty of the harness. This, however, was not the only difficulty I had to contend with; for the curriculus, partic.i.p.ating in the galloping action of the horse, swung upwards and downwards, backwards and forwards, and from one side to the other--all at once too--in a manner so perfectly addling that it was not before we reached the first turnpike that I succeeded in arresting our progress. Here a short halt was necessary for the priest to recover himself, and to examine whether either his bones or any portion of the harness had given way. Both had happily been found proof against mishaps, and drew from the reverend father strong encomiums upon their merits; and after a brief delay we resumed our road, but at a much more orderly and becoming pace than before.
Once more _en route_, I bethought me it was high time to inquire about the direction we were to travel, and the probable length of our journey; for I confess I was sadly ignorant as to the geography of the land we were travelling, and the only point I attempted to keep in view was the number of miles we were distant from the capital The priest"s reply was, however, anything but instructive to me, consisting merely of a long catalogue of names, in which the syllables "kill," "whack," "nock,"
"shock," and "bally" jostled and elbowed one another in the rudest fashion imaginable--the only intelligible portion of his description being, that a blue mountain scarcely perceptible in the horizon lay about half-way between us and Murranakilty.
My attention was not, however, permitted to dwell on these matters; for my companion had already begun a narrative of the events which had occurred during my illness. The Dillons, I found, had left for Dublin soon after my mishap. Louisa Bellew returned to her father; and Mr.
Burke, whose wound had turned out a more serious affair than was at first supposed, was still confined to his bed, and a lameness for life antic.i.p.ated as the inevitable result of the injury.
"Sir Simon, for once in his life," said the priest, "has taken a correct view of his nephew"s character, and has, now that all danger to life is past, written him a severe letter, reflecting on his conduct. Poor Sir Simon! his life has been one tissue of trial and disappointment throughout. Every b.u.t.tress that supported his venerable house giving way, one by one, the ruin seems to threaten total downfall, ere the old man exchanges the home of his fathers for his last narrow rest beside them in the churchyard. Betrayed on every hand, wronged and ruined, he seems merely to linger on in life--like the stern-timbers of some mighty wreck, that marks the spot where once the goodly vessel perished, and are now the beacon of the quicksand to others. You know the sad story, of course, that I alluded to----"
"No; I am completely ignorant of the family history," said I.
The priest blushed deeply, as his dark eyebrows met in a heavy frown; then turning hastily towards me, he said, in a voice whose thick, low utterance bespoke his agitation--
"Do not ask me, I beseech you, to speak further of what, had I been more collected, I had never alluded to! An unhappy duel, the consequence of a still more unhappy event, has blasted every hope in life for my poor friend. I thought--that is, I feared lest the story might have reached you. As I find this is not so, you will spare my recurring to that the bare recollection of which comes like a dark cloud over the happiest day of my existence. Promise me this, or I shall not forgive myself."
I readily gave the pledge he required; and we pursued our road--not, however, as before, but each sunk in his own reflections, silent, reserved, and thoughtful.
"In about four days," said Father Tom, at last breaking the silence, "perhaps five, we"ll be drawing near Murranakilty. He then proceeded, at more length, to inform me of the various counties through which we were to pa.s.s, detailing with great accuracy the several seats we should see, the remarkable places, the ruined churches, the old castles, and even the very fox-covers that lay on our route. And although my ignorance was but little enlightened by the catalogue of hard names that fell as glibly from his tongue as Italian from a Roman, yet I was both entertained and pleased with the many stories he told--some of them legends of bygone days, some of them the more touching and truth-dealing records of what had happened in his own time. Could I have borrowed any portion of his narrative power, were I able to present in his strong but simple language any of the curious scenes he mentioned, I should perhaps venture on relating to my reader one of his stories; but when I think how much of the interest depended on his quaint and homely but ever-forcible manner, as, pointing with his whip to some ruined house with blackened walls and fallen chimneys, he told some narrative of rapine and of murder, I feel how much the force of reality added power to a story that in repet.i.tion might be weak and ineffective.
CHAPTER x.x.xIV. THE MOUNTAIN Pa.s.s
On the whole, the journey was to me a delightful one, and certainly not the least pleasant portion of my life in Ireland. Endowed--partly from his individual gifts, partly from the nature of his sacred functions--with influence over all the humble ranks in life, the good priest jogged along with the a.s.surance of a hearty welcome wherever he pleased to halt--the only look of disappointment being when he declined some proffered civility, or refused an invitation to delay his journey.
The chariot was well known in every town and village, and scarcely was the rumble of its wheels heard coming up the "street" when the population might be seen a.s.sembling in little groups and knots, to have a word with "the father," to get his blessing, to catch his eye, or even obtain a nod from him. He knew every one and everything, and with a tact which is believed to be the prerogative of royalty, he never miscalled a name nor mistook an event. Inquiring after them, for soul and body, he entered with real interest into all their hopes and plans, their fears and antic.i.p.ations, and talked away about pigs, penances, purgatory, and potatoes in a way that showed his information on any of these matters to be of no mean or common order.
By degrees our way left the more travelled highroad, and took by a mountain tract through a wild, romantic line of country beside the Shannon. No villages now presented themselves, and indeed but little trace of any habitation whatever; large misshapen mountains, whose granite sides were scarce concealed by the dark fern, the only vegetation that clothed them, rose around and about us. In the valleys some strips of bog might be seen, with little hillocks of newly-cut turf, the only semblance of man"s work the eye could rest on. Tillage there was none. A dreary silence, too, reigned throughout. I listened in vain for the bleating of a lamb or the solitary tinkle of a sheep-bell; but no--save the cawing of the rooks or the mournful cry of the plover, I could hear nothing. Now and then, it is true, the heavy flapping of a strong wing would point the course of a heron soaring towards the river; but his low flight even spoke of solitude, and showed he feared not man in his wild and dreamy mountains. At intervals we could see the Shannon winding along, far, far down below us, and I could mark the islands in the bay of Scariff, with their ruined churches and one solitary tower; but no sail floated on the surface, nor did an oar break the sluggish current of the stream. It was, indeed, a dreary scene, and somehow my companion"s manner seemed coloured by its influence; for scarcely had we entered the little valley that led to this mountain track than he became silent and thoughtful, absorbed in reflection, and when he spoke, either doing so at random or in a vague and almost incoherent way that showed his ideas were wandering.
I remarked that as we stopped at a little forge shortly after daybreak, the smith had taken the priest aside and whispered to him a few words, at which he seemed strangely moved; and as they spoke together for some moments in an undertone, I perceived by the man"s manner and gesture, as well as by the agitation of the good father himself, that something of importance was being told. Without waiting to finish the little repair to the carriage which had caused our halt, he remounted hastily, and beckoning me to take my place, drove on at a pace that spoke of haste and eagerness. I confess that my curiosity to know the reason was great; but as I could not with propriety ask, nor did my companion seem disposed to give the information, I soon relapsed into a silence unbroken as his own, and we travelled along for some miles without speaking. Now and then the priest would make an effort to relieve the weariness of the way by some remark upon the scenery, or some allusion to the wild grandeur of the pa.s.s; but it was plain he spoke only from constraint, and that his mind was occupied on other and very different thoughts.
It was now wearing late, and yet no trace of any house or habitation could I see, where to rest for the night. Not wishing, however, to interrupt the current of my friend"s thoughts I maintained my silence, straining my eyes on every side--from the dark mountains that towered above me, to the narrow gloomy valley that lay several hundred feet beneath our track--but all in vain. The stillness was unbroken, and not a roof, not even a smoke-wreath, could be seen far as the view extended.
The road by which we travelled was scarped from the side of a mountain, and for some miles pursued a gradually descending course. On suddenly turning the angle of a rocky wall that skirted us for above a mile, we came in sight of a long reach of the Shannon upon which the sun was now setting in all its golden l.u.s.tre. The distant sh.o.r.e of Munster, rich in tillage and pasture-land, was lit up too with cornfield and green meadow, leafy wood and blue mountain, all glowing in their brightest hue. It was a vivid and a gorgeous picture, and I could have looked on it long with pleasure, when suddenly I felt my arm grasped by a strong finger. I turned round, and the priest, relaxing his hold, pointed down into the dark valley below us, as he said in a low and agitated voice--
"You see the light? It is there--there."
Quickening our pace by every effort, we began rapidly to descend the mountain by a zigzag road, whose windings soon lost us the view I have mentioned, and left nothing but the wild and barren mountains around us. Tired as our poor horse was, the priest pressed him forward; and regardless of the broken and rugged way he seemed to think of nothing but his haste, muttering between his teeth with a low but rapid articulation, while his face grew flushed and pale at intervals, and his eye had all the l.u.s.trous glare and restless look of fever. I endeavoured, as well as I was able, to occupy my mind with other thoughts; but with that invincible fascination that turns us ever to the side we try to shun, I found myself again and again gazing on my companion"s countenance. Every moment now his agitation increased; his lips were firmly closed, his brow contracted, his cheek flattened and quivering with a nervous spasm, while his hand trembled violently as he wiped the big drops of sweat that rolled from his forehead.
At last we reached the level, where a better road presented itself before us, and enabled us so to increase our speed that we were rapidly coming up with the light, which, as the evening closed in, seemed larger and brighter than before. It was now that hour when the twilight seems fading into night--a grey and sombre darkness colouring every object, but yet marking gra.s.s and rock, pathway and river, with some seeming of their noonday hues, so that as we came along I could make out the roof and walls of a mud cabin built against the very mountainside, in the gable of which the light was shining. A rapid, a momentary thought flashed across my mind as to what dreary and solitary man could fix his dwelling-place in such a spot as this, when in an instant the priest suddenly pulled up the horse, and, stretching out one hand with a gesture of listening, whispered--
"Hark! Did you not hear that?"
As he spoke, a cry, wild and fearful, rose through the gloomy valley--at first in one prolonged and swelling note; then broken as if by sobs, it altered, sank, and rose again wilder and madder, till the echoes, catching up the direful sounds, answered and repeated them as though a chorus of unearthly spirits were calling to one another through the air.
"O G.o.d! too late--too late!" said the priest, as he bowed his face upon his knees, and his strong frame shook in agony. "O Father of Mercy!"
he cried, as he lifted his eyes, bloodshot and tearful, toward heaven, "forgive me this; and if unshriven before Thee--"
Another cry, more frantic than before, here burst upon us, and the priest, muttering with rapid utterance, appeared lost in prayer. But at him I looked no longer, for straight before us on the road, and in front of the little cabin, now not above thirty paces from us, knelt the figure of a woman, whom, were it not for the fearful sounds we had heard, one could scarcely believe a thing of life. Her age was not more than thirty years; she was pale as death; not a tinge, not a ray of colour streaked her bloodless cheek; her black hair, long and wild, fell upon her back and shoulders, straggling and disordered; while her hands were clasped, as she held her stiffened arms straight before her. Her dress bespoke the meanest poverty, and her sunken cheek and drawn-in lips betokened famine and starvation. As I gazed on her almost breathless with awe and dread, the priest leaped out, and hurrying forward, cried out to her in Irish; but she heard him not, she saw him not--dead to every sense, she remained still and motionless. No feature trembled, no limb was shaken; she knelt before us like an image of stone; and then, as if by some spell that worked within her, once more gave forth the heart-rending cry we heard at first. Now low and plaintive, like the sighing night-wind, it rose fuller and fuller, pausing and continuing at intervals; and then breaking into short and fitful efforts, it grew wilder and stronger, till at last with one outbreak, like the overflowing of a heart of misery, it ceased abruptly.
The priest bent over her and spoke to her; he called her by her name, and shook her several times--but all in vain. Her spirit, if indeed present with her body, had lost all sympathy with things of earth.