standing.
"I've a word for you, Phil Joyce," said he, in a low voice, where everytrace of emotion was carefully subdued. "Can I spake it to you here?"
Owen's wan and sickly aspect, if it did not shock, it at leastastonished Joyce, for he looked at him for some seconds withoutspeaking; then said, half rudely:
"Ay, here will do as well as any where, since ye didn't like to say ityesterday."
There was no mistaking this taunt; the sneer on Owen's want of couragewas too plain to be misconstrued; and although for a moment he lookedas if disposed to resent it, he merely shook his head mournfully, andreplied: "It is not about that I came to speak; it's about your sister,Mary Joyce."
Phil turned upon him a stare of amazement, as quickly followed by alaugh, whose insulting mockery made Owen's cheek crimson with shame.
"True enough, Phil Joyce; I know your meanin' well," said he, with animmense effort to subdue his passion. "I'm a poor cottier, wid a bit ofmountain-land--sorra more--and has no right to look up to one like her.But listen to me, Phil!" and here he grasped his arm, and spoke with athick guttural accent: "Listen to me! Av the girl wasn't what she is,but only your sister, I'd scorn her as I do yourself;" and with that,he pushed him from him with a force that made him stagger. Before he hadwell recovered, Owen was again at his side, and continued:--"And now,one word more, and all's ended between us. For you, and your likings ormis-likings, I never cared a rush: but 'tis Mary herself refused me, sothere's no more about it; only don't be wreaking your temper on her, forshe has no fault in it."
"Av a sister of mine ever bestowed a thought on the likes o' ye, I'dgive her the outside of the door this night," said Joyce, whose couragenow rose from seeing several of his faction attracted to the spot, byobserving that he and Connor were conversing. "'Tis a disgrace--divil aless than a disgrace to spake of it!"
"Well, we won't do so any more, plaze God!" said Owen, with a smile ofvery fearful meaning. "It will be another little matter we'll have tosettle when we meet, next. There's a score there, not paid off yet:"and at the word he lifted his hat, and disclosed the deep mark of thescarce-closed gash on his forehead: "and so, good bye to ye."
A rude nod from Phil Joyce was all the reply, and Owen turned homewards.
If prosperity could suggest the frame of mind to enjoy it, the richwould always be happy; but such is not the dispensation of Providence.Acquisition is but a stage on the road of ambition; it lightens the way,but brings the goal no nearer. Owen never returned to his mountain-homewith a sadder heart. He passed without regarding them, the littlefields, now green with the coming spring; he bestowed no look northought upon the herds that already speckled the mountain-side;disappointment had embittered his spirit; and even love itself now gaveway to faction-hate, the old and cherished animosity of party.
If the war of rival factions did not originally spring from the personalquarrels of men of rank and station, who stimulated their followersand adherents to acts of aggression and reprisal, it assuredly wasperpetuated, if not with their concurrence, at least permission; andmany were not ashamed to avow, that in these savage encounters the "badblood" of the country was "let out," at less cost and trouble than byany other means. When legal proceedings were recurred to, the landlord,in his capacity of magistrate, maintained the cause of his tenants; and,however disposed to lean heavily on them himself, in the true spirit oftyranny he opposed pressure from any other hand than his own. The peoplewere grateful for this advocacy--far more, indeed, than they oftenproved for less questionable kindness. They regarded the law with somuch dread--they awaited its decisions with such uncertainty--that hewho would conduct them through its mazes was indeed a friend. But,was the administration of justice, some forty or fifty years back inIreland, such as to excite or justify other sentiments? Was it not thistampering with right and wrong, this recurrence to patronage, that madelegal redress seem an act of meanness and cowardice among the people?No cause was decided upon its own merits. The influence of the greatman--the interest he was disposed to take in the case--the momentarycondition of county politics--with the general character of theindividuals at issue, usually determined the matter; and it couldscarcely be expected that a triumph thus obtained should have exercisedany peaceful sway among the people.
"He wouldn't be so bould to-day, av his landlord wasn't to the fore,"was Owen Connor's oft-repeated reflection, as he ascended the narrowpathway towards his cabin; "'tis the good backing makes us brave, Godhelp us!" From that hour forward, the gay light-hearted peasant becamedark, moody, and depressed; the very circumstances which might besupposed calculated to have suggested a happier frame of mind, onlyincreased and embittered his gloom. His prosperity made daily labourno longer a necessity. Industry, it is true, would have broughtmore comforts about him, and surrounded him with more appliances ofenjoyment; but long habits of endurance had made him easily satisfiedon this score, and there were no examples for his imitation whichshould make him strive for better. So far, then, from the landlord'sbenevolence working for good, its operation was directly the reverse;his leniency had indeed taken away the hardship of a difficult andonerous payment, but the relief suggested no desire for an equivalentamelioration of condition. The first pleasurable emotions of gratitudeover, they soon recurred to the old customs in every thing, andgradually fell hack into all the observances of their former state, theonly difference being, that less exertion on their parts was now calledfor than before.
Had the landlord been a resident on his property--acquainting himselfdaily and hourly with the condition of his tenants--holding up examplesfor their imitation--rewarding the deserving--discountenancing theunworthy--extending the benefits of education among the young--andfostering habits of order and good conduct among all, Owen would havestriven among the first for a place of credit and honour, and speedilyhave distinguished himself above his equals. But alas! no; Mr. Leslie,when not abroad, lived in England. Of his Irish estates he knew nothing,save through the half-yearly accounts of his agent. He was conscious ofexcellent intentions; he was a kind, even a benevolent man; and in thesociety of his set, remarkable for more than ordinary sympathies withthe poor. To have ventured on any reflection on a landlord before him,would have been deemed a downright absurdity.
He was a living refutation of all such calumnies; yet how was it,that, in the district he owned, the misery of the people was a thing toshudder at? that there were hovels excavated in the bogs, within whichhuman beings lingered on between life and death, their existence likesome terrible passage in a dream? that beneath these frail roofs famineand fever dwelt, until suffering, and starvation itself, had ceased toprey upon minds on which no ray of hope ever shone? Simply he did notknow of these things; he saw them not; he never heard of them. He wasaware that seasons of unusual distress occurred, and that a more thanordinary degree of want was experienced by a failure of the potato-crop;but on these occasions, he read his name, with a subscription of ahundred pounds annexed, and was not that a receipt in full for all theclaims of conscience? He ran his eyes over a list in which Royal andPrincely titles figured, and he expressed himself grateful for so muchsympathy with Ireland! But did he ask himself the question, whether, ifhe had resided among his people, such necessities for alms-givinghad ever arisen? Did he inquire how far his own desertion of histenantry--his ignorance of their state--his indifference to theircondition--had fostered these growing evils? Could he acquit himself ofthe guilt of deriving all the appliances of his ease and enjoyment, fromthose whose struggles to supply them were made under the pressureof disease and hunger? Was unconsciousness of all this, an excusesufficient to stifle remorse? Oh, it is not the monied wealth dispensedby the resident great man; it is not the stream of affluence, flowing inits thousand tiny rills, and fertilising as it goes, we want. It is farmore the kindly influence of those virtues which. And their congenialsoil in easy circumstances; benevolence, sympathy, succour in sickness,friendly counsel in distress, timely aid in trouble, encouragement tothe faint-hearted, caution to the over-eager: the
se are gifts, which,giving, makes the bestower richer; and these are the benefits which,better than gold, foster the charities of life among a people, and bindup the human family in a holy and indissoluble league. No benevolencefrom afar, no well wishings from distant lands, compensate for the wantof them. To neglect such duties is to fail in the great social compactby which the rich and poor are united, and, what some may deem of moremoment still, to resign the rightful influence of property into thehands of dangerous and designing men.
It is in vain to suppose that traditionary deservings will elicitgratitude when the present generation are neglectful. On the contrary,the comparison of the once resident, now absent landlord, excites verydifferent feelings; the