CHAPTER VI. MY EDUCATION.
As I thought over the various incidents the last few days of my life hadpresented, I began to wonder with myself whether the world always wenton thus, and if the same scenes of misery and woe I had witnessed werein the ordinary course of nature. The work of years seemed to me tohave been accomplished in a few brief hours. Here, where I stoodbut yesterday, a happy family were met together; and now, death andmisfortune had laid waste the spot, and save the cold walls, nothingmarked it as a human habitation. What had become of them? where hadthey gone to? Had they fled from the blood-stained hands of the cruelsoldiery, or were they led away to prison? These were the questionsconstantly recurring to my mind. And the French officer, too,--what ofhim? I felt the deepest interest in his fate. Poor fellow! he looked sopale and sickly; and yet there was something both bold and manly in hisflashing eye and compressed lip. He was doubtless one of those Darbyalluded to. What a lot was his! and how little did my own sorrows seem,as I compared them with his houseless, friendless condition!
As my thoughts thus wandered on, a dark shadow fell across the gleam ofmoonlight that lit up the ruined cabin. I turned suddenly, and saw thefigure of a man leaning against the doorpost. For a second or two fearwas uppermost in my mind, but rallying soon, I called out, "Who 'sthere?"
"'T is me. Darby M'Keown!" said a well-known voice, but in a tone ofdeepest sorrow. "I came over to have a look at the ould walls oncemore."
"You heard it all, then. Darby?"
"Yes; they wor bringing the prisoners into Athlone as I left the town,and I thought to myself you 'd maybe be hiding somewhere hereabouts. Isthe captain away? Is he safe?"
"The French officer? Yes, he escaped early in the business. I know hemust be far off by this time; Heaven knows which way, though."
"Maybe I could guess," said Darby, quietly. "Well, well! it 's hard toknow what 's best. Sometimes it would seem the will of God that we aren't to succeed; and if we hadn't right on our side, it would not be easyto bear up against such misfortunes as these."
There was a silence on both sides after these words, during which Ipandered them well in my mind.
"Come, Mister Tom!" said Darby, suddenly; "'tis time we were moving.You 're not safe here no more nor others. Basset is looking for youeverywhere, and you 'll have to leave the neighborhood, for a whileat least. Your friend, the captain, too, is gone; his regiment marchedyesterday. So now make up your mind what to do."
"That's easily done, Darby," said I, attempting to seem at ease."Whichever is your road shall be mine, if you let me."
"Let you? Yes, with a hearty welcome, too, my darling! But the firstthing is to get you some clothes that won't discover on you. Here 's ahat I squeezed into my own that 'll just fit you; and I 've a coat herethat 's about your size. That's enough for the present; and as we goalong, I 'll teach you your part, how you are to behave, and he 'll beno fool that 'll find you out after ten days or a fortnight."
My change of costume was soon effected, and my wound, which turned outto be a trifling one, looked after. I took a farewell look at the oldwalls, and stepped after my companion down the boreen.
"If we make haste," said Darby, "we'll be beyond Shannon Harbor beforeday; and then, when we 're on the canal, we 'll easy get a lift in someof the boats going to Dublin."
"And are you for Dublin?" inquired I, eagerly.
"Yes. I'm to be there on the twenty-fourth of this month, please God.There 's a meeting of the friends of Ireland to be then, and someresolutions will be taken about what 's to be done. There 's bad workgoing on in the Parliament."
"Indeed, Darby! What is it?"
"Oh! you couldn't understand it well. But it's just as if we war n't tohave anything to say to governing ourselves; only to be made slaves of,and sent abroad to fight for the English, that always hate us and abuseus."
"And are we going to bear with this?" cried I, passionately.
"No," said Darby, laying his hand on my shoulder,--"no; not at leastif we had twenty thousand like you, my brave boy. But you'll heareverything yourself soon. And now, let me attend to your education abit, for we're not out of the enemy's country."
Darby now commenced his code of instruction to me, by which I learnedthat I was to perform a species of second to him in all minstrelsy; notexactly on the truest principles of harmony, but merely alternating withhim in the verses of his songs. These, which were entirely of hisown composition, were all to be learned,--and orally, too, for MisterM'Keown was too jealous of his copyright ever to commit them towriting, and especially charged me never to repeat any lyric in the sameneighborhood.
"It's not only the robbery I care for," quoth Darby, "but the varmintsdesthroys my poethry completely; some' times changing the words,injuring the sentiments, and even altering the tune. Now, it's only lastTuesday I heerd 'Behave politely,' to the tune of 'Look how he sarvedme!'"
Besides the musical portion of my education, there was another scarcelyless difficult to be attended to: this was, the skilful adaptation ofour melodies, not only to the prevailing tastes of the company, butto their political and party bearings; Darby supplying me with varioushints how I was to discover at a moment the peculiar bias of anystranger's politics.
"The boys," said Darby, thereby meaning his own party, "does be alwayssly and careful, and begin by asking, maybe, for 'Do you incline?'or 'Crows in the barley,' or the like. Then they 'll say, 'Have youanything new, Mister M'Keown, from up the country?' 'Something sweet,is it?' says I. 'Ay, or sour, av ye have it,' they 'll 'say. 'Maybe ye'dlike "Vinegar-hill," then,' says I. Arrah, you'd see their faces reddenup with delight; and how they 'll beat time to every stroke of the tune,it 's a pleasure to play for them. But the yeos (meaning the yeomen)will call out mightily,--'Piper! halloo there! piper, I say, rise TheBoyne water, or Croppies lie down.'"
"And of course you refuse, Darby?"
"Refuse! Refuse, is it? and get a bayonet in me? Devil a bit, my dear.I 'll play it up with all the spirit I can; and nod my head to the tune,and beat the time with my heel and toe; and maybe, if I see need ofit, I fasten this to the end of the chanter, and that does the businessentirely."
Here Darby took from the lining of his hat a bunch of orange ribbon,whose faded glories showed it had done long and active service in thecause of loyalty.
I confess Darby's influence over me did not gain any accession ofpower by this honest avowal of his political expediency; and thebold assertion of a nation's wrongs, by which at first he won over myenthusiasm, seemed sadly at variance with this truckling policy. He wasquicksighted enough to perceive what was passing in my mind, and at onceremarked,--
"'Tis a hard part we're obliged to play, Master Tom; but one comfort wehave,--it 's only a short time we 'll need it. You know the song? "Herehe broke into the popular tune of the day:--
"'And the French will come again, Says the Shan van vaugh; And they 'll bring ten thousand men. Says the Shan van vaugh; And with powder and with ball, For our rights we 'll loudly call: Don't you think they 'll hear us then! Says the Shan van vaugh.'
Ye must larn that air, Master Tom. And see, now, the yeos is as fond ofit as the boys; only remember to put their own words to it,--and devil aharm in that same when one 's not in earnest. See, now, I believe it 'sa natural pleasure for an Irishman to be humbugging somebody; and faix,when there 's nobody by he 'd rather be taking a rise out of himselfthan doing nothing. It 's the way that 's in us, God help us! Sure it 'sthat same makes us sich favorites with the ladies, and gives us a kindof native janius for coortin':
"''T is the look of his eye, And a way he can sigh, Makes Paddy a darlin' wherever he goes; With a sugary brogue. Ye 'd hear the rogue Cheat the girls before their nose.'
And why not? Don't they like to be chated, when they 're sure to winafter all,--to win a warm heart and a stout arm to fight for them?"
This species of logic I give as a specimen of Mister M'Keo
wn's power of,if not explaining away a difficulty, at least getting out of all reachof it,--an attribute almost as Irish as the cause it was 'employed todefend.
As we journeyed along, Darby maintained a strict reserve as to the eventwhich had required his presence in Athlone; nor did he allude to themayor but passingly, observing that he did n't know how it happened thata Dublin magistrate should have come up to these parts,--"though, to besure, he 's a great friend of the Right Honorable."
"And who is he?" asked I.
"The Right Honorable! Don't you know, then? Why, I did n't think therewas a child in the county could n't tell that. Sure, it 's Denis Brownehimself."
The name seemed at once to suggest a whole flood of recollections; andDarby expatiated for hours long on the terrible power of a man by whosehands life and death were distributed, without any aid from judge orjury,--thus opening to me another chapter of the lawless tyranny towhich he was directing my attention, and by which he already saw my mindwas greatly influenced.
About an hour after daybreak we arrived at a small cabin; which servedas a lockhouse on the canal side. It needed not the cold, murky sky,nor the ceaseless pattering of the rain, to make this place look morecomfortless and miserable than anything I had ever beheld. Around, formiles in extent, the country was one unbroken flat, without any traceof wood, or even a single thorn hedge, to relieve the eye. Low,marshy meadows, where the rank flaggers and reedy grass grew tall andluxuriant, with here and there some stray patches of tillage, were girtround by vast plains of bog, cut up into every variety of trench andpit. The cabin itself, though slated and built of stone, was in badrepair; the roof broken in many places, and the window mended withpieces of board, and even straw. As we came close. Darby remarked thatthere was no smoke from the chimney, and that the door was fastened onthe outside.
"That looks bad," said he, as he stopped short about a dozen paces fromthe hovel, and looked steadily at it; "they've taken him too!"
"Who is it, Darby?" said I; "what did he do?"
M'Keown paid no attention to my question, but unfastening the hasp,which attached the door without any padlock, entered. The fire was yetalive on the hearth, and a small stool drawn close to it showed wheresome one had been sitting. There was nothing unusual in the appearanceof the cabin; the same humble furniture and cooking utensils lying aboutas were seen in any other. Darby, however, scrutinized everythingmost carefully, looking everywhere and into everything; till at last,reaching his hand above the door, he pulled out from the straw of thethatch a small piece of dirty and crumpled paper, which he opened withthe greatest care and attention, and then flattening it out with hishand, began to read it over to himself, his eye flashing and his cheekgrowing redder as he pored over it. At last he broke silence with,--
"'T is myself never doubted ye, Tim, my boy. Look at that, Master Tom.But sure, you wouldn't understand it, after all. The yeos took him uplast night. 'T is something about cutting the canal and attacking theboat that 's again' him; and he left that there--that bit of paper--togive the boys courage that he wouldn't betray them' That 's the way thecause will prosper,--if we 'll only stick by one another. For many atime, when they take a man up, they spread it about that he's turnedinformer against the rest; and then the others gets careless, and don'tmind whether they're taken or not."
Darby replaced the piece of paper carefully; and then, listening for amoment, exclaimed,--"I hear the boat coming; let's wait for it outside."
While he employed himself in getting his pipes into readiness, I couldnot help ruminating on the strength of loyalty to one another the poorpeople observed amid every temptation and every seduction; how, in themidst of such misery as theirs, neither threats nor bribery seemed toinfluence them, was a strong testimony in favor of their truth, and, tosuch a reasoner as I was, a no less cogent argument for the goodness ofthe cause that elicited such virtues.
As the boat came alongside, I remarked that the deck was without apassenger. Heaps of trunks and luggage littered it the entire way; butthe severity of the weather had driven every one under cover, except thesteersman and the captain, who, both of them wrapped up in thick coatsof frieze, seemed like huge bears standing on their hindquarters.
"How are you, Darby?" shouted the skipper. "Call out that lazy rascal toopen the lock."
"I don't think he's at home, sir," said Darby, as innocently as thoughhe knew nothing of the reason for his absence.
"Not at home! The scoundrel, where can he be, then? Come, youngster,"cried he, addressing me, "take the key there, and open the lock."
Until this moment, I forgot the character which my dress and appearanceassigned to me. But a look from the piper recalled me at once torecollection; and taking up the iron key, I proceeded, under Darby'sinstructions, to do what I was desired, while Darby and the captainamused themselves by wondering what had become of Tim, and speculated onthe immediate consequences his absence would bring down on him.
"Are you going with us, Darby?" said the captain.
"Faix, I don't know, sir," said he, as if hesitating. "Ar there was anygentleman that liked the pipes--"
"Yes, yes; come along, man," rejoined the skipper. "Is the boy with you?Very well; come in, youngster."
We were soon under way again; and Darby, having arranged his instrumentto his satisfaction, commenced a very spirited voluntary to announcehis arrival. In an instant the cabin door opened, and a red-faced,coarse-looking fellow, in uniform, called out,--
"Halloo, there! is that a piper?"
"Yes, sir," said Darby, without turning his face round; while, at thesame time, he put a question in Irish to the skipper, who answered itwith a single word.
"I say, piper, come down here!" cried the yeoman, for such hewas,--"come down here, and let 's have a tune!"
"I 'm coming, sir!" cried Darby, standing up; and holding out his handto me, he called out,--"Tom, alannah, lead me down stairs."
I looked up in his face, and to my amazement perceived that he hadturned up the white of his eyes to represent blindness, and was gropingwith his hand like one deprived of sight. As any hesitation on my partmight have betrayed him at once, I took his hand, and led him along,step by step, to the cabin door.
I had barely time to perceive that all the passengers were habited inuniform, when one of them called out,--"We don't want the young fellow;let him go back. Piper, sit down here."
The motion for my exclusion was passed without a negative; and I closedthe door, and sat down by myself among the trunks on deck.
For the remainder of the day I saw nothing of Darby,--the shouts oflaughter and clapping of hands below stairs occasionally informingme how successful were his efforts to amuse his company; while I hadabundant time to think over my own plans, and make some resolutions forthe future.
Tom Burke Of Ours, Volume I Page 7