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The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine, a novel by William Carleton |
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Chapter 14. A Middleman Magistrate Of The Old School, And His Clerk |
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_ CHAPTER XIV. A Middleman Magistrate of the Old School, and his Clerk Dick-o'-the-Grange--whose name was Henderson--at least such is the name we choose to give him--held his office, as many Irish magistrates have done before him, in his own parlor; that is to say, he sat in an arm-chair at one of the windows, which was thrown open for him, while those who came to seek justice, or, as they termed it, law, at his hands, were compelled to stand uncovered on the outside, no matter whether the weather was stormy or otherwise. We are not now about to pronounce, any opinion upon the constitutional spirit of Dick's decisions--inasmuch as nineteen out of every twenty of them were come to by the only "Magistrates' Guide" he ever was acquainted with--to wit, the redoubtable Jemmy Branigan. Jemmy was his clerk, and although he could neither read nor write, yet in cases where his judgments did not give satisfaction, he was both able and willing to set his mark upon the discontented parties m a fashion that did not allow his blessed signature to be easily forgotten. Jemmy, however, as the reader knows, was absent on the morning we are writing about, having actually fulfilled his threat of leaving his master's service--a threat, by the way, which was held out and acted upon at least once every year since he and the magistrate had stood to each other in the capacity of master and servant. Not that we are precisely correct in the statement we had made on this matter, for sometimes his removal was the result of dismissal on the part of his master, and sometimes the following up of the notice which he himself had given him to leave his service. Be this as it may, his temporary absences always involved a trial of strength between the parties, as to which of them should hold out, and put a constraint upon his inclinations the longest; for since the truth must be told of Jemmy, we are bound to say that he could as badly bear to live removed from the society of his master, as the latter could live without him. For many years of his life, he had been threatening to go to America, or to live with a brother that he had in the Isle of White, as he called it, and on several occasions he had taken formal leave of the whole family, (always in the presence of his master, however,) on his departure for either the one place or the other, while his real abode was a snug old garret, where he was attended and kept in food by the family and his fellow-servants, who were highly amused at the outrageous distress of his master, occasioned sometimes by Jemmy's obstinate determination to travel, and sometimes by his extreme brotherly affection. Donnel, having left his son cracking a long whip which he held in his hand, and looking occasionally at the tress of Mave Sullivan's beautiful hair, approached the hall door, at which he knocked, and on the appearance of a servant, requested to see Mr. Henderson. The man waived his hand towards the space under the window, meaning that he should take his stand there, and added-- "If it's law you want, I'm afeard you'll get more abuse than justice from him now, since Jemmy's gone." The knowing grin, and the expression of comic sorrow which accompanied the last words, were not lost upon the prophet, who, in common with every one in the neighborhood for a circumference of many miles, was perfectly well aware of the life which master and man both led. "Is that it?" said the prophet; "however, it can't be helped. Clerk, or no clerk, I want to see him on sarious business, tell him; but I'll wait, of coorse, till he's at leisure." "Tom," said Henderson from within, "Who's there?--is that him? If it is, tell him, confound him! to come in, and I'll forgive him. If he'll promise to keep a civil tongue in his head, I'll forget all, say. Come in, you old scoundrel, I'm not angry with you; I want to speak to you, at all events." "It's not him, sir; it's only Donnel M'Gowan, the Black Prophet, that wants some law business." "Send him to the devil for law business What brings him here now? Tell him he shall have neither law nor justice from me. Did you send to his brother-in-law? May be he's there?" "We did, sir. Sorra one of his seed, breed, or generation but we sent to. However, it's no use--off to America he's gone, or to the Isle o' White, at any rate." "May the devil sink America and the Isle of White both in the ocean, an' you, too; you scoundrel, and all of you! Only for the cursed crew that's about me, I'd have him here still--and he the only man that understood my wants and my wishes, and that could keep me comfortable and easy." "Troth, then, he hadn't an overly civil tongue in his head, sir," replied the man; "for, when you and he, your honor, were together, there was little harmony to spare between you." "That was my own fault, you cur. No servant but himself would have had a day's patience with me. He never abused me but when I deserved it--did he?" "No, your honor; I know he didn't, in troth." "You lie, you villain, you know no such thing. Here am I with my sore leg, and no one to dress it for me. Who's to help me upstairs or downstairs?--who's to be about me?--or, who cares for me, now that he's gone? Nobody--not a soul." "Doesn't Masther Richard, sir?" "No sir; Master Richard gives himself little trouble about me. He has other plots and plans on his hands--other fish to fry--other irons in the fire. Masther Richard, sirra, doesn't care a curse if I was under the sod to-morrow, but would be glad of it; neither does, any one about me--but he did; and you infernal crew, you have driven him away from me." "We, your honor?" "Yes, all of you; you put me first out of temper by your neglect and your extravagance; then I vented it on him, because he was the only one among you I took any pleasure in abusin'--speaking to. However, my mind's made up--I'll call an auction--sell everything--and live in Dublin as well as I can. What does that black hound want?" "Some law business, sir; but I donna what it is." "Is the scoundrel honest, or a rogue?" "Throth it's more than I'm able to tell your honor, sir. I don't know much about him. Some spakes well, and some spakes ill of him--just like his neighbors--ahem!" "Ay, an' that's all you can say of him? but if he was here, I could soon ascertain what stuff he's made of, and what kind of a hearing he ought to get. However, it doesn't matter now--I'll auction everything--in this grange I won't live; and to be sure but I was a precious-old scoundrel to quarrel with the best servant a man ever had." Just at this moment, who should come round from a back passage, carrying a small bundle in his hand, but the object of all his solicitude. He approached quietly on tiptoe, with a look in which might be read a most startling and ludicrous expression of anxiety and repentance. "How is he?" said he--"how is his poor leg? Oh, thin, blessed saints, but I was the double distilled villain of the airth to leave him as I did to the crew that was about him! The best masther that ever an ould vagabond like me was ongrateful to! How is he, Tom?" "Why," replied the other, "if you take my advice, you'll keep from him at all events. He's cursin' an' abusin' you ever since you went, and won't allow one of us even to name you." "Troth, an' it only shows his sense; for I desarved nothing else at his hands. However, if what you say is true, I'm afeared he's not long for this world, and that his talkin' sense at last is only the lightening before death, poor gintleman! I can stay no longer from him, any how, let him be as he may; an' God pardon me for my ongratitude in desartin' him like a villain as I did." He then walked into the parlor; and as the prophet was beckoned as far as the hall, he had an opportunity of witnessing the interview which took place between this extraordinary pair. Jemmy, before entering, threw aside his bundle and his hat, stripped off his coat, and in a moment presented himself in the usual striped cotton jacket, with sleeves, which he alway's wore. Old Dick was in the act of letting fly an oath at something, when Jemmy, walking in, just as if nothing had happened, exclaimed-- "Why, thin, Mother o' Moses, is it at the ould work I find you? Troth, it's past counsel, past grace wid you--I'm afraid you're too ould to mend. In the manetime, don't stare as if you seen a ghost--only tell us how is that unfortunate leg of yours?" "Why--eh?--ay,--oh, ah,--you're back are you?--an' what the devil brought you here again?--eh?" "Come now, keep yourself quiet, you onpenitent ould sinner, or it'll be worse for you. How is your leg?" "Ah, you provokin' ould rascal--eh?--so you are back?" "Don't you see I am--who would stick to you like myself, afther all? Troth I missed your dirty tongue, bad as it is--divil a thing but rank pace and quietness I was ever in since I seen you last." "And devil a scoundrel has had the honesty to give me a single word of abuse to my face since you left me." "And how often did I tell you that you couldn't depind upon the crew that's around you--the truth's not in them--an' that you ought to know. However, so far as I am concerned, don't fret--Grod knows I forgive you all your folly and feasthalaga, (* nonsense,) in hopes always that you'll mend your life in many respects. You had meself before you as an example, though I say it, that ougtn't to say it, but you know you didn't take pattern by me as you ought." "Shake hands, Jemmy; I'm glad to see you again; you were put to expense since you went." "No, none; no, I tell you." "But I say you were." "There, keep yourself quiet now; no I wasn't; an' if I was, too, what is it to you?" "Here, put that note in your pocket." "Sorra bit, now," replied Jemmy, "to plaise you," gripping it tightly at the same time as he spoke; "do you want to vex me again?" "Put it in your pocket, sirra, unless you want me to break your head." "Oh, he would," said Jemmy, looking with a knowing face of terror towards Tom Booth and the Prophet,--"it's the weight of his cane I'd get, sure enough--but it's an ould sayin' an' a true one, that when the generosity's in, it must come out. There now, I've put it in my pocket for you--an' I hope you're satisfied. Devil a sich a tyrant in Europe," said he, loudly, "when he wishes--an' yet, after all," he added, in a low, confidential voice, just loud enough for his master to hear,--"where 'ud one get the like of him? Tom Booth, desire them to fetch warm water to the study, till I dress his poor leg, and make him fit for business." "Here is Donnel Dhu," replied Booth, "waitin' for law business." "Go to the windy, Donnel," said Jemmy, with an authoritative air; "go to your ground; but before you do--let me know what you want." "I'll do no such thing," replied the Prophet; "unless to say, that it's a matter of life an' death." "Go out," repeated Jemmy, with brief and determined authority, "an wait till it's his honor's convanience, his full convanience, to see you. As dark a rogue, sir," he continued, having shoved the Prophet outside, and slapped the door in his face; "and as great a schamer as ever put a coat on his back. He's as big a liar too, when he likes, as ever broke bread; but there's far more danger in him when he tells the truth, for then you may be sure he has some devil's design in view." Dick-o'-the-Grange, though vulgar and eccentric, was by no means deficient in shrewdness and common sense--neither was he, deliberately, an unjust man; but, like too many in the world, he generally suffered his prejudices and his interests to take the same side. Having had his leg dressed, and been prepared by Jemmy for the business of the day, he took his place, as usual, in the chair of justice, had the window thrown open, and desired the Prophet to state the nature of his business. The latter told him that the communication must be a private one, as it involved a matter of deep importance, being no less than an affair of life and death. This startled the magistrate, who, with a kind of awkward embarrassment, ordered, or rather requested Jemmy to withdraw, intimating that he would be sent for, if his advice or opinion should be deemed necessary. "No matther," replied Jemmy; "the loss will be your own; for sure I know the nice hand you make of law when you're left to yourself. Only before I go, mark my words;--there you stand, Donnel Dhu, an' I'm tellin' him to be on his guard against you--don't put trust, plaise your honor, in either his word or his oath--an' if he's bringin' a charge against any one, give it in favor of his enemy, whoever he is. I hard that he was wanst tried for robbery, an' I only wondher it wasn't for murdher, too; for in troth and sowl, if ever a man has both one and the other in his face, he has. It's known to me that he's seen now and then colloguin' an' skulkin' behind the hedges, about dusk, wid red Rody Duncan, that was in twiste for robbery. Troth it's birds of a feather wid them--and I wouldn't be surprised if we were to see them both swing from the same rope yet. So there's my carrecther of you, you villain," he added, addressing M'Gowan, at whom he felt deeply indignant, in consequence of his not admitting him to the secret of the communication he was about to make. Henderson, when left alone with the Prophet, heard the disclosures which the latter made to him, with less surprise than interest. He himself remembered the circumstances perfectly well, and knew that on the occasion of Condy Dalton's former arrest, appearances had been very strong against him. It was then expected that he would have disclosed the particular spot in which the body had been concealed, but as he strenuously persisted in denying any knowledge of it, and, as the body consequently could not be produced, they were obliged of necessity to discharge him, but still under strong suspicions of his guilt. The interview between Henderson and M'Gowan was a long one; and the disclosures made were considered of too much importance for the former to act without the co-operation and assistance of another magistrate. He accordingly desired the Prophet to come to him on the following day but one, when he said he would secure the presence of a Major Johnson; who was also in the commission, and by whose warrant old Condy Dalton had been originally arrested on suspicion of the murder. It was recommended that every thing that had transpired between them should be kept strictly secret, lest the murderer, if made acquainted with the charge which was about to be brought home to him, should succeed in escaping from justice. Young Dick, who had been sent for by his father, recommended this, and on those terms they separated. _ |
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