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The Tithe-Proctor, a novel by William Carleton |
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Chapter 14. State Of The Country |
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_ CHAPTER XIV. State of the Country --O'Driscol rivals Falstaff--Who Buck English was supposed to be.
In the meantime, the state of the country was fast becoming such as had seldom, or perhaps never been recollected by living man. The confederation, conspiracy, opposition, rebellion, or what you will, had risen to a gigantic height. In point of fact, it ought rather to have been termed an unarmed insurrection. Passive resistance was the order and the practice of the day. The people were instructed by the agitators, or rather by the great agitator himself, to oppose the laws without violating them; a piece of advice which involved an impossibility in the first place, but which was as false in itself, as replete with dishonesty and imposture, as it was deceitful and treacherous to the poor people who were foolish and credulous enough to be influenced by it. We are not now assailing the Whigs for the reforms which they effected in the Irish establishment, because we most cordially approve of them. Nay, more, we are unquestionably of opinion that that reform was not only the boldest, the most brilliant, but the most just and necessary act of policy, which they ever offered as a boon to this country. But what we do blame them for is, that they should have suffered themselves to be kept in such gross ignorance of the state of the Irish church, as to allow its shocking and monstrous corruptions to remain uncorrected so long; that they should have allowed themselves to be baffled and imposed upon, and misled by the hypocritical howlings and fictitious alarms of the old Tory party, who, whenever they felt the slightest dread that the Irish Establishment would slip through their fingers, filled heaven and earth with prophetic denunciations against England, not forbearing to threaten the very throne itself with a general alienation of Protestant attachment and allegiance, if any of its worst and rottenest corruptions should be touched. No; the Whigs should have known the state and condition of the Irish church from clear and correct sources, and not have subjected the country to the pernicious and degrading consequences of a turbulent agitation. What is just in itself ought to be conceded to reason and utility, and not withheld until violence and outrage seem to extort it; for this only holds out a bounty to future agitation. Be this as it may, the whole country, at the period of which we write, was in a state of general commotion and tumult altogether unparalleled. Law was completely paralyzed, set at defiance, and laughed at. Large bodies, consisting of many thousands, traversed different parts of the country in open day, swearing every one they met to resist the payment of tithes in every way and in every sense. Many gentlemen, who had either paid it or been suspected to do so, or who had been otherwise obnoxious as landlords, or for strong party feeling, were visited by these licentious multitudes with an intention of being put to death, whilst the houses of several wealthy farmers, who had unfortunately paid the hated impost, were wrecked in the face of day. Nor was this all: men were openly and publicly marked for destruction, and negotiations for their murder entered into in fairs, and markets, and houses of entertainment, without either fear or disguise. In such a state of things, it is unnecessary to say that many lives were taken, and that great outrages were from time to time committed. Two or three clergymen were murdered, several tithe-proctors or collectors of tithe were beaten nearly to death; and to such a pitch did the opposition rise, that at length it became impossible to find any one hardy and intrepid, or, in other words, mad enough, to collect tithe, unless under the protection either of the military or police. Our friends, Proctor Purcel and his sons, were now obliged, not merely to travel armed, but frequently under the escort of police. Their principal dread, however, was from an attack upon their premises at night; and, as fearful threats were held out that such an attack would be made, Purcel, who, as the reader knows, was a man of great wealth, engaged men to build a strong and high wall about his house and out-offices, which could now be got at only through a gate of immense strength, covered with thick sheet-iron, and bound together by bars of the same metal, in such a way that even the influence of fire could not destroy it, or enable an enemy to enter. With such a condition of society before us, it is scarcely necessary to inform our readers that the privations of the Protestant clergy were not only great, but dreadful and without precedent. It was not merely that their style of living was lowered or changed for the worse, but that they suffered distress of the severest description--want, destitution, and hunger, in their worst forms. First came inconvenience from a delay in the receipt of their incomes; then the necessity of asking for a longer term of credit; after this the melancholy certainty that tithes would not be paid; again followed the pressure from creditors for payment, with its distracting and harassing importunities; then the civil but firm refusal to supply the necessaries of life on further credit; then again the application to friends, until either the inclination or ability failed, and benevolence itself was exhausted. After this came the disposal of books, furniture, and apparel; and, when these failed, the secret grapple with destitution, the broken spirit, the want of food--famine, hunger, disease, and, in some cases, death itself. These great sufferings of a class who, at all events, were educated gentlemen, did not occur without exciting, on their behalf, deep and general sympathy from all classes. In their prosperity, the clergy, as a body, raised and spent their income in the country. They had been kind and charitable to the poor, and their wives and daughters had often been ministering angels to those who were neglected by the landlords or gentry of the neighborhood, their natural protectors. It is true, an insurrection exhibiting the manifestation of a general and hostile principle against the source of their support, had spread over the country; but, notwithstanding its force and violence, the good that they had done was not forgotten to them in the hour of their trials and their sorrows. Many a man, for instance, whose voice was loud in the party procession, and from whose lips the shout of "down with the blood-stained tithe!" issued with equal fervor and sincerity, was often known to steal, at the risk of his very life, in the dead hour of night, to the house of, the starving parson and his worn family, and with blackened face, that he might not by any possibility be known, pay the very tithes for whose abolition he was willing to peril his life. Nay, what is more, the priest himself--the actual living idolatrous priest, the benighted minister of the Scarlet Lady, has often been known to bring, upon his own broad and sturdy shoulders, that relief in substantial food which has saved the lives of more than one of those ungodly parsons, who had fattened upon a heretic church, and were the corrupted supporters of the mammon of unrighteousness. Here, in fact, was the popish, bigoted priest--the believer in transubstantiation, the denouncer of political enemies, the advocate of exclusive salvation, the fosterer of pious frauds, the "surpliced ruffian," as he has been called, and heaven knows what besides, stealing out at night, loaded like a mule, with provisions for the heretical parson and his family--for the Bible-man, the convent-hunter, the seeker after filthy lucre, and the black slug who devoured one-tenth of the husbandman's labors. Such, in fact, was the case in numberless instances, where the very priest himself durst not with safety render open assistance to his ecclesiastical enemy, the parson. In this combination against tithe, it is to be observed, that, as in all other agitations, whether the object be good or otherwise, those who took a principal part among the people in the rural districts were seldom any other than the worst and most unprincipled spirits--reckless ruffians and desperate vagabonds, without any sense of either religious or moral obligation to restrain them from the commission of outrage. It is those men, unfortunately, who, possessed of strong and licentious energies, and always the most active and contaminating in every agitation that takes place among us, and who, influenced by neither shame nor fear, and regardless of consequences, impress their disgraceful character upon the country at large, and occasion the great body of society to suffer the reproach of that crime and violence which, after all, only comparatively a few commit. Our friend the proctor, we have already stated, had collected the tithes of three or four parishes; and it is unnecessary, therefore, to say, that the hostility against him was spread over a wide and populous district. This was by no means the case with O'Driscol, who was much more the object of amusement to the people than of enmity. The mask of bluster, and the cowardly visage it covered, were equally well known in the neighborhood; and as the Irish possess a quick and almost instinctive perception of character, especially among their superiors, we need scarcely say that they played off, on more than one occasion, many ludicrous pranks at his expense. He was certainly a man of great importance, at least in his own opinion, or if he did understand himself, he wished, at all events, to be considered so in the eyes of others. He possessed, however, much more cunning than any one would feel inclined to attribute to him, and powers of flattery that were rarely ever equalled. He was, in fact, one of the few men who could administer that nauseating dose, without permitting the person who received it to become sensible that he did so. He had scraped together some wealth by the good oldsystem of jobbing--had got himself placed upon the Grand Panel of the county,' and ultimately, by some corrupt influence at an election, contrived to have the merit of returning the government candidate, a service which procured him a magistracy. O'Driscol was very fond of magnifying trifles, and bestowing, a character of importance upon matters that were of the utmost insignificance. For instance, if a poor decrepit devil, starving in a hut, and surrounded by destitution and beggary, were to be arrested for some petty misdemeanor, he would mount his horse with vast pomp, and proceed at the head of twelve or eighteen armed policemen to make his caption. But, on the contrary, whenever any desperate and intrepid character was to be apprehended--some of those fellows like the notorious Ryan (Puck), who always carried a case of pistols or a blunderbuss about them, or perhaps both---our valiant magistrate was either out of the way or had a visit from the gout--a complaint which he was very fond of parading, because it is one of aristocratic pretensions, but one, of which, we are honestly bound to say, he had never experienced a single twitch. We have already stated that he had received a threatening notice, and attempted to describe the state of conflicting emotions into which it threw him. We forgot to state, however, that he had before received several other anonymous communications of a somewhat more friendly stamp; the difference between them being the simple fact, that the one in question was read, and the others of his own composition. The latter were indeed all remarkable for containing one characteristic feature, which consisted in a solemn but friendly warning that if he (the magistrate) were caught at a particular place, upon a particular day, it might be attended with dangerous consequences to himself. Our magistrate, however, was not a man to be frightened by such communications; no,--He was well known in the neighborhood, and he would let the cowardly scoundrels feel what a determined man could be. He thought his daredevil character had been sufficiently known; but since it seemed that it was not, he would teach them a lesson of intrepidity--the scoundrels. His practice was, on such occasions, to get a case of pistols, mount his horse, and, in defiance to all entreaty to the contrary, proceed to the place of danger, which he rode past, and examined with an air of pompous heroism that was ludicrous in the extreme. One morning, about this time, he sat at breakfast, reading the Potwollopers' Gazette, or the No-Popery Advocate, when, as usual, he laid it down, and pushing it over to Fergus, he resumed his toast and butter. "Well, now," said he, upon my honor and conscience, it is extraordinary how these matters creep into the papers. At all events, Fergus, my friend the Castle will persaive what kind of stuff it's best supporters consist of." "Very appropriate, sir," replied Fergus--"stuff is an excellent word." "And why is it an excellent word, Fergy?" "It is so significant, sir, as an illustration?" "Well, I dare say it is," returned the father; "don't we say of a game man, such a fellow has good stuff in him? but, setting that aside, do look at the paragraph about that attack! My friend Swiggerly has done me full justice. Upon my word, it is extramely gratifying, and especially in such critical times as these, read it for Kate there, will you?" "What is it, papa?" "An account, my dear, of the attack made upon us, and of--but Fergus will read it out for you." Fergus accordingly read as follows:-- EXTRAORDINARY COURAGE AND INTREPIDITY--SEVERAL HUNDRED WHITEBOYS MOST SPIRITLY REPULSED--FITZGERALD O'DRISCOL, ESQ. J. P. "On the night of the 24th ultimo, the house of this most active and resolute magistrate was attacked by a numerous band of ruffianly Whiteboys, amounting to several hundreds--who, in defiance of his well-known resolution, and forgetting the state of admirable preparation and defence in which he always maintains his dwelling-house, surrounded it with the intention, evidently, of visiting upon him the consequences of his extraordinary efforts at preserving the peace of the country, and bringing offenders to justice. The exact particulars of this fearful conflict have not reached us, but we may, without offence, we trust, to the modesty of Mr. O'Driscol, venture to give a general outline of the circumstances, as far as we have heard them. About two o'clock, on the morning alluded to, and while the whole family were asleep, an attempt was made to break open the hall-door. This, however, having been heavily chained, barred, and bolted, and the keys removed to Mr. O'Driscol's sleeping-room, resisted all attempts of the Whiteboys to enter--a circumstance which filled them with fury and indignation. In a moment the family were alarmed, and up. On that night it so happened that Mr. Alick Purcel, a friend and neighbor of Mr. O'Driscol's, happened to be staying with them, and almost immediately Mr. O'Driscol, placing the two young men in something like a steady military position, led them on personally, in the most intrepid manner, to a position behind the shutters. From this place the fire of the enemy was returned for a considerable time with equal bravery, and, it is presumed, effect, as the grounds about the hall-door were found the next morning to be stained with blood in several places. Tho heroism of the night, however, is yet to be related. Mr. O'Driscol, who was certainly supported by his son and Mr. Purcel in a most able and effective manner, hearing a low, cautious noise in the back part of the house, went to reconnoitre, just in time to grapple with the leader of these villains--a most desperate and ferocious character-cruel, fearless, and of immense personal strength. He must have got in by some unaccountable means not yet discovered, with the hope, of course, of admitting his accomplices from without. A terrific struggle now ensued, which terminated by the fellow, on finding, we presume, the mettle of the person opposed to him, flying down stairs towards the kitchen, and from thence, as Mr. O'Driscol thought, to the coal-hole, whether he fearlessly pursued him, but in vain. On examining the coal-hole, which Mr. O'Driscol did personally in the dark--we really shudder at that gentleman's absence of all fear--the ferocious Whiteboy could not be found in it. The presumption is that he gave Mr. O'Driscol the slip during pursuit, doubled back, and escaped from the lobby window, which, on examination, was found open. On this almost unprecedented act of bravery it is useless to indulge in comment, especially as we are restrained by regard for Mr. O'Driscol's personal feelings and well-known modesty on this peculiar subject. His worthy son, we are aware, inherits his father's courage." "The devil I do!" exclaimed Fergus; "ha! ha! ha! Faith, I'm braver than I had given myself credit for." "And we are glad to hear that the present government, sensible of their obligations to Fitzgerald O'Driscol, Esq., are about to confer the office of Stipendiary Magistrate upon his son. We are, indeed, glad to hear this; the office cannot possibly be better bestowed; and thus, so far as relates to his father, at least, may valuable public services in critical times be ever appropriately rewarded!" "Well, Fergy, what do you think of our friend Swiggerly now?" "In God's name, sir, what does all this rigmarole, in which there is scarcely a word of truth, mean?" "Mane! why it manes, sir, that I am anxious to get you a Stipendiary Magistracy." "A Stipendiary Magistracy, father, if you wish and if you can; but not by such means as this--it is shameful, father, indeed it is." "I tell you, Fergus, that unless a man plays a game in this world, he has little business in it. Manes! Why, what objections can you have to the manes? A bit of a harmless paragraph that contains very little more than the truth. I tell you that I threw it out as a hint to my friend the Castle, and I hope it will act on it, that's all." "Well, well," exclaimed the son, laughing, "take care you don't overdo the business; for my own part, I wish to obtain a magistracy only by honorable means;--that is, since you have put the matter into my head, for until last week I never once thought of it." "Neither did I until a couple of weeks ago; and between you and me, Fergus, the country's in a devil of a state--a very trying one for Stipendiaries," replied his father; "but it struck me that I am myself rather advanced in years for such an appointment, and, in the meantime, that something of the kind might be in your way, and it is for this rason that I am feeling the pulse of my friend the Castle." "But I am too young, sir, for such an appointment." "Not at all, you blockhead; although you get a magistracy in the paragraph, you don't imagine, I expect, you should get one directly. No, no; there are gradations in all things. For instance, now,--first a Chief Constableship of Police; next, a County Inspectorship; and thirdly, a Stipendiary Magistracy. It is aisy to run you through the two first in ordher to plant you in the third--eh? As for me I'm snug enough, unless they should make me a commissioner, of excise or something of that sort, that would not call me out upon active duty but, at all events, there's nothing like having one's eye to business, and being on the lookout for an opportunity." "You know, father," observed Fergus, "I don't now nor ever did approve of the system, or principle you pursue in these matters, and as I will not join you in them, I can only say if I do receive a government appointment, I shall not owe it to anything personally unbecoming myself." "Ah, you're young and green yet, Fergus, but time and expariance will, open your eyes to your own interests, and you'll live to acknowledge the folly of having scruples with the world--ay will you." "It may be so, sir; but I thank God the time you speak of has not come yet." "Well," continued his father, "now that we have talked over that matter, read this;",and, as he spoke, he handed Fergus a notice, evidently a friendly one, to the following; effect-- "Hunda. "What do you think of that, Fergus?" "Why, sir, it's a proof that you have friends among these turbulent people. I hope you don't intend going to Lisnagola on that day; by the way it must mean this day, for this is Tuesday, and the note or notice, or whatever you call it, is dated on Sunday, I perceive. I trust you don't intend to to-day, sir, and expose yourself. "I shall certainly go, sir," replied his father, rising up quite indignantly. "What do you think I am? Do you think, sir, that I--Fitzgerald O'Driscol, am the man to be intimidated by blood-thirsty dogs like these? No, sir. I shall, at the proper time, arm myself, mount my good horse and ride, calm as a milestone, past the very spot. D--n the rascals! do they think to terrify me?" "If the author of that letter does," replied Fergus, "he is most certainly mistaken;" and as he said so he looked significantly at his sister, who smiled as one would who thoroughly understood the matter. Just at that moment, Alick Purcel was seen approaching the hall-door, and in a few minutes he joined them. "Well, Alick," said the magistrate, "all well at Longshot Lodge--all safe and sound for so far?" "All well, sir, thank you, and safe and sound for so far." "Do you know what I think, Alick?" "No, sir." "Upon my honor and conscience I am of opinion, that it's something in your favor to live so near to me. I act as a kind of protection for you, Alick. I am morally convinced, ay, and have good raison to know it from more than one quarther, that your father's house would have been attacked long since, if it were not for the near neighborhood of dare-devil O'Driscol. And yet these fellows like courage, Alick; for instance, read that warning. There you see is a plot laid for my life; but I'll show the villains that they have the wrong sow by the ear. I have showed them as much before, and will show them as much again." He then handed the note, with an air of triumph, to Alick, who read it over and assumed a look of great terror. "Of course you will be guided by this, Mr. O'Driscol." "Of course I will not, Mr. Purcel; not a bit of it. I will ride--armed, of course--past Philpot's corner this very day, at half-past three o'clock; that is all I say." "Well all I can say," returned Alick, "is that you are a fearfully-determined man, sir." "I grant that, Alick, I know I am; but then it is in my nature. I was born with it--I was born with it. Any news?" "Why not much, sir. That scoundrel, Buck English, has written to my father, notwithstanding all that happened, to know if he will consent to let Julia marry him. He says in his letter that, although he may be put off with a refusal now, he will take good care that he shan't be unsuccessful the next time he asks her." "Does nobody, or can nobody find out how that scoundrel--" here the valorous magistrate's voice sank as if instinctively, and he gave a cautious glance about him at the same time, but seeing none but themselves, present he resumed his courage--"how that, rascal finds manes to cut the figure he-does?" "I believe not," replied the other; "but for my part, I am often disposed to look upon the man as mad; yet still the puzzle is to think how he lives in such buck style--the vagabond. He certainly is involved in some-mystery, for every one you meet or talk to is afraid of him." "No, not every one, Alick; come, come, my boy, every general rule has an exception; whisper--I could name you one who is not afraid of him"--and this he said in a jocular tone--"I only wish," he added, raising his voice with more confidence, "that I could get my thumb upon him, I would--" He was here interrupted by a loud but mellow voice, which rang cheerfully with the following words:-- "I'm the rantin' Cannie Soogah." "Ha! the Jolly Pedlar! Throw open the window, Fergus, till we have a chat with him. Well, my rantin' Cannie Soogah, how are you?" "Faith, your honor, I'm jist betwixt and between, as they say--naither betther nor worse, but mixed middlin', like the praties in harvest. However, it's good to be any way at all in these times; so thank God my head's on my body still." "Cannie," said Fergus, "we were just-talking of Buck English. Mr. Purcel here-says that there's some mystery about him; for nobody knows how he lives, and every one almost is afraid of him. My Father, however, denies that every one is afraid of him." "Buck English!" exclaimed the pedlar. "Mr. O'Driscol, darlin', what did your honor say about him?" "Why, I--I--a-hem--I wished to have the pleasure, Cannie, of--of--shaking hands, with the honest fellow; was not that it, Alick?" "Hands, or thumbs, or something that way," replied Alick; "threatening him, as it were." "Shaking hands, upon honor, Alick--thumb to thumb, you know." "Well, Mr. O'Driscol, you're well known! to have more o' the divil than the man in you--beggin' your pardon, sir, for the freedoms, I'm takin'--but it's all for your own good I'm doin' it. Have you e're a mouse-hole about your place, sir?" "A-hem! Why, Cannie," asked O'Driscol, with an expression of strong alarm in his face--"why do you ask so--so--singular a question as that?" "Bekaise, sir, sooner than you should breathe--mind, breathe's the word--one syllable against Buck English, I'd recommend you to go into the mouse-hole I spoke of, and never show your face out of it agin. I--an' everybody knows me, an' likes me, too, I hope--I meek--hem! throth I do make it a point never to name him at all, barrin' when I can't help it. Nobody knows anything about him, they say. By all accounts, he never sleeps a week, or at any rate more than a week, in the same place; an' whatever dress he has on comin' to any particular part of the counthry, he never changes; but they say that if you find him in any other part of the counthry, he has a different dress on him: he has a dress, they say, for every part." "He has honored my father," said Alick, "by sending him a written proposal for my sister Julia--ha! ha! ha!" "Well, now, did he, Mr. Alick?" "Yes; and he says that he may be refused now, but won't the next time he asks her." "Well, then, Mr. Alick, I'll tell you what I'd advise you to do: go home, and tell your father to send for him, if he knows where to find him, and let him not lose a day in marryin' her to him; for if everything is thrue that's said of him, he was never known to break a promise, whether it was for good or ill." "Ha! ha! ha! thank you, Cannie,--excellent!" replied Alick. "Who can he be, Cannie?" asked Miss O'Driscol, "this person of such wonderful mystery? I have never seen him, but I wish I could." "Ay, have you, often--I'll engage, Miss." "And so do I," added her father; "I wish to see him also, and to have everything mysterious cleared up." "Well," continued the pedlar, "I know nothing myself about him, only as I hear; but if all's thrue that's said, he could give your father, and you, Mr. Alick, lave to walk through the whole counthry in the hour of noonday or midnight, widout a finger ever bein' raised against one o' you; and as for you, Mr. O'Driscol, he could have the house pulled about your ears in an hour's time, if he wished--ay, and he would, too, if he heard that you spoke a harsh word of him." "As for me, Cannie," replied the magistrate, "I trust I'm a Christian man, and not in the habit of abusing the absent. Indeed, I don't see what right any one has to make impertinent inquiries into the life or way of living of any respectable person--I do not see it, Cannie; and, I assure you, I always set my face against such prying inquiries." "I know, myself," continued the pedlar, "that there's a great many things said about him, an' people wishes to know who he is. Now I was tould a thing wanst by a sartain parson--I won't say who, but I believe it's not a thousand miles from the truth I'm spakin' about who he is." "And who is he?" asked Fergus; "out with it Cannie." "Well, then," he proceeded, in a cautious and confidential whisper, "it's said by them that ought to know, that he's an illaygal brother to the Great Counsellor. There now, you have it." "Is it to Counsellor O'Connell?" "Ay, to Counsellor O'Connell--divil a one else. He's as like him as two pays, barrin' the color o' the hair. Sure the Counsellor puts every one down that crosses him, and so does Buck English. Miss Katherine, darlin,' won't you buy something? Here's the best of everything; don't be afeard of high prices. My maxim always is--to buy dear and sell chape, for the sake o' the fair sect. Come, gintlemen, Cannie Soogah's pack is a faist for the leedies--hem--I mane a feest for the ladies--hillo--ha! ha! ha! there's a touch of Buck English himself for you. Well, of coorse, what's a faist for the ladies must surely be a thrate to the gintlemen." Alick here availed himself of M'Carthy's experience, and presented Miss O'Driscol with a beautiful bracelet; O'Driscol and Fergus purchased some pocket-handkerchiefs and other matters, and our Jolly Pedlar went on his way rejoicing. Fergus O'Driscol who was a shrewd and keen observer, could perceive, during the foregoing interview, that there was on the pedlar's countenance an expression of grave, hard, solemn irony, which it was difficult to notice, or having noticed it, to penetrate, or in any way analyse or understand. To him it was a complete enigma, the solution of which seized very strongly on his imagination, and set all his powers of reasoning and investigation to work. All admitted there was a mystery about Buck English; but Fergus felt a strong impression that there was one equally impenetrable about the pedlar himself. Having little else, however, than a passing thought, a fancy, on which to ground this surmise, he prudently concealed it, from an apprehension of being mistaken, and, consequently, of subjecting himself to ridicule. Fergus now brought Alick out to the garden, where they seemed to enjoy a very merry dialogue if several fits of hearty laughter may be said to constitute mirth; after this Alick went home; not, however, we should say until he first contrived to enjoy a short tete-a-tete with Miss O'Driscol. When the hour for the departure of the magistrate to test the resolution of the "men in buckram," who had resolved upon his assassination, had arrived, he most magnanimously got a double case of pistols, and in spite of all remonstrance from both son and daughter, he mounted his horse--Duke Schomberg--and in a most pompous and heroic spirit rode forth to quell the latent foe. We have already stated that O'Driscol's real character was thoroughly known by the country-folks around him, as the character of every such person usually is. Whilst he proceeds, then, upon his daring and heroic enterprise, we beg leave to state very briefly, that Fergus and Alick Purcel, having laid their heads together, procured, each, two of their father's laborers, whom they furnished material wherewith to blacken their faces; not omitting four large cabbage-stalks, with the heads attached, and kept under the right arm of each. These had been trimmed and blackened also, in order to have more the appearance of fire-arms. Thus armed, and with appropriate instructions, they planted themselves inside the hedges which inclosed the narrow turn of the road at Philpot's cornet, and awaited their "unsuspecting victim," as the phrase unhappily, and with too much truth, goes. O'Driscol, on approaching the fatal spot, regretted that there were no eyes upon this extraordinary manifestation of courage. He stretched up his neck and looked about him in all directions, with a hope that some one might observe the firmness and utter absence of all fear with which he came up to the place where the assassins were to lie in wait for him. He had now come within ten or twelve yards of it when, such was the force of his own cowardly imagination, that it had worked him up from a fictitious into a real terror; and on approaching the spot, he could not prevent himself from coughing pretty loudly, in order to ascertain that there really was no such thing as ah assassin behind the hedges. He coughed, we say, with a double case of pistols in his hand, when, heaven and earth! was the cough responded to--and in a jarring style--from behind the hedge to the right? He paused, pulled up his horse, and coughed again, when it also was responded to from that on the left; and at the same time four faces, dreadfully blackened, peeped, two on each side of him, and levelling their black and dreadful-looking blunderbusses--for they could be nothing else--were about to rid the world of a loyal magistrate, and deprive the Castle of its best friend and correspondent, when the latter gentleman, wheeling Duke Schomberg round, put him to most inglorious flight, and scampered off at the top of his speed. The jest was admirably managed; and nothing could exceed the unction with which he related his encounter with the villains. In fact, upon Falstaff's principle, he had discharged his pistols on the way home, as a proof of the desperate contest he had had with the blood-thirsty scoundrels. Like all his other exploits, however, it was added to the catalogue of his daring conflicts with the Whiteboys, and, ere the lapse of twenty-four hours, was in possession of "his friend the Castle." _ |
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