Lord Colambre asked him what wine he could have; and then inquired who managed the estate for this absentee.
'Mr. Burke, sir. And I don't know why God was so kind to give so good an agent to an absentee like Lord Clonbrony, except it was for the sake of us, who is under him, and knows the blessing, and is thankful for the same.'
'Very good cutlets,' said Lord Colambre.
'I am happy to hear it, sir. They have a right to be good, for Mrs. Burke sent her own cook to teach my wife to dress cutlets.'
'So the agent is a good agent, is he?'
'He is, thanks be to Heaven! And that's what few can boast, especially when the landlord's living over the seas: we have the luck to have got a good agent over us, in Mr. Burke, who is a right bred gentleman; a snug little property of his own, honestly made; with the good will and good wishes, and respect of all.'
'Does he live in the neighbourhood?'
'Just CONVANIENT (CONVENIENT: near.) At the end of the town; in the house on the hill, as you passed, sir; to the left, with the trees about it, all of his planting, finely grown too—for there's a blessing on all he does, and he has done a deal.—There's salad, sir, if you are partial to it. Very fine lettuce. Mrs. Burke sent us the plants herself.'
'Excellent salad! So this Mr. Burke has done a great deal, has he? In what way!'
'In every way, sir—sure was not it he that had improved, and fostered, and made the town of Colambre?—no thanks to the proprietor, nor to the young man whose name it bears, neither!'
'Have you any porter, pray, sir?'
'We have, sir, as good, I hope, as you'd drink in London, for it's the same you get there, I understand, from Cork. And I have some of my own brewing, which, they say, you could not tell the difference between it and Cork quality—if you'd be pleased to try. Harry, the corkscrew.'
The porter of his own brewing was pronounced to be extremely good; and the landlord observed it was Mr. Burke encouraged him to learn to brew, and lent him his own brewer for a time to teach him.
'Your Mr. Burke, I find, is APROPOS to porter, APROPOS to salad, APROPOS to cutlets, APROPOS to everything,' said Lord Colambre, smiling; 'he seems to be a NON-PAREIL of an agent. I suppose you are a great favourite of his, and you do what you please with him?'
'Oh no, sir, I could not say that; Mr. Burke does not have favourites anyway; but according to my deserts, I trust, I stand well enough with him, for, in truth, he is a right good agent.'
Lord Colambre still pressed for particulars; he was an Englishman, and a stranger, he said, and did not exactly know what was meant in Ireland by a good agent.
'Why, he is the man that will encourage the improving tenant; and show no favour or affection, but justice, which comes even to all, and does best for all at the long run; and, residing always in the country, like Mr. Burke, and understanding country business, and going about continually among the tenantry, he knows when to press for the rent, and when to leave the money to lay out upon the land; and, according as they would want it, can give a tenant a help or a check properly. Then no duty-work called for, no presents, nor GLOVE-MONEY, nor SEALING-MONEY even, taken or offered; no underhand hints about proposals, when land would be out of lease, but a considerable preference, if desArved, to the old tenant, and if not, a fair advertisement, and the best offer and tenant accepted; no screwing of the land to the highest penny, just to please the head landlord for the minute, and ruin him at the end, by the tenant's racking the land, and running off with the year's rent; nor no bargains to his own relations or friends did Mr. Burke ever give or grant, but all fair between landlord and tenant; and that's the thing that will last; and that's what I call the good agent.'
Lord Colambre poured out a glass of wine, and begged the innkeeper to drink the good agent's health, in which he was heartily pledged. 'I thank your honour;—Mr. Burke's health! and long may he live over and amongst us; he saved me from drink and ruin, when I was once inclined to it, and made a man of me and all my family.'
The particulars we cannot stay to detail: this grateful man, however, took pleasure in sounding the praises of his benefactor, and in raising him in the opinion of the traveller.
'As you've time, and are curious about such things, sir, perhaps you'd walk up to the school that Mrs. Burke has for the poor children; and look at the market-house, and see how clean he takes a pride to keep the town; and any house in the town, from the priest to the parson's, that you'd go into, will give you the same character as I do of Mr. Burke: from the brogue to the boot, all speak the same of him, and can say no other. God for ever bless and keep him over us!'
Upon making further inquiries, everything the innkeeper had said was confirmed by different inhabitants of the village. Lord Colambre conversed with the shopkeepers, with the cottagers; and, without making any alarming inquiries, he obtained all the information he wanted. He went to the village school—a pretty, cheerful house, with a neat garden and a play-green; met Mrs. Burke; introduced himself to her as a traveller. The school was shown to him: it was just what it ought to be—neither too much nor too little had been attempted; there was neither too much interference nor too little attention. Nothing for exhibition; care to teach well, without any vain attempt to teach in a wonderfully short time. All that experience proves to be useful, in both Dr. Bell's and Mr. Lancaster's modes of teaching, Mrs. Burke had adopted; leaving it to 'graceless zealots' to fight about the rest. That no attempts at proselytism had been made, and that no illiberal distinctions had been made in this school, Lord Colambre was convinced, in the best manner possible, by seeing the children of Protestants and Catholics sitting on the same benches, learning from the same books, and speaking to one another with the same cordial familiarity. Mrs. Burke was an unaffected, sensible woman, free from all party prejudices, and, without ostentation, desirous and capable of doing good. Lord Colambre was much pleased with her, and very glad that she invited him to dinner.
Mr. Burke did not come in till late; for he had been detained portioning out some meadows, which were of great consequence to the inhabitants of the town. He brought home to dine with him the clergyman and the priest of the parish, both of whom he had taken successful pains to accommodate with the land which suited their respective convenience. The good terms on which they seemed to be with each other, and with him, appeared to Lord Colambre to do honour to Mr. Burke. All the favourable accounts his lordship had received of this gentleman were confirmed by what he saw and heard. After the clergyman and priest had taken leave, upon Lord Colambre's expressing some surprise, mixed with satisfaction, at seeing the harmony which subsisted between them, Mr. Burke assured him that this was the same in many parts of Ireland. He observed, that 'as the suspicion of ill-will never fails to produce it,' so he had often found, that taking it for granted that no ill-will exists has the most conciliating effect. He said, to please opposite parties, he used no arts; but he tried to make all his neighbours live comfortably together, by making them acquainted with each other's good qualities; by giving them opportunities of meeting sociably, and, from time to time, of doing each other little services and good offices. 'Fortunately, he had so much to do,' he said, 'that he had no time for controversy. He was a plain man, made it a rule not to meddle with speculative points, and to avoid all irritating discussions; he was not to rule the country, but to live in it, and make others live as happily as he could.'
Having nothing to conceal in his character, opinions, or circumstances, Mr. Burke was perfectly open and unreserved in his manner and conversation; freely answered all the traveller's inquiries, and took pains to show him everything he desired to see. Lord Colambre said he had thoughts of settling in Ireland; and declared, with truth, that he had not seen any part of the country he should like better to live in than this neighbourhood. He went over most of the estate with Mr. Burke, and had ample opportunities of convincing himself that this gentleman was indeed, as the innkeeper had described him, 'a right good gentleman, and a right good agent.'
He paid Mr. Burke some just compliments on the state of the tenantry, and the neat and flourishing appearance of the town of Colambre.
'What pleasure it will give the proprietor when he sees all you have done!' said Lord Colambre.
'Oh, sir, don't speak of it!—that breaks my heart, he never has shown the least interest in anything I have done; he is quite dissatisfied with me, because I have not ruined his tenantry, by forcing them to pay more than the land is worth; because I have not squeezed money from them by fining down rents; and—but all this, as an Englishman, sir, must be unintelligible to you. The end of the matter is, that, attached as I am to this place and the people about me, and, as I hope, the tenantry are to me—I fear I shall be obliged to give up the agency.'
'Give up the agency! How so?—you must not,' cried Lord Colambre, and, for the moment, he forgot himself; but Mr. Burke took this only for an expression of good-will.
'I must, I am afraid,' continued he. 'My employer, Lord Clonbrony, is displeased with me—continual calls for money come upon me from England, and complaints of my slow remittances.'
'Perhaps Lord Clonbrony is in embarrassed circumstances said Lord Colambre.
'I never speak of my employer's affairs, sir,' replied Mr. Burke; now for the first time assuming an air of reserve.
'I beg pardon, sir—I seem to have asked an indiscreet question.' Mrs. Burke was silent.
'Lest my reserve should give you a false impression, I will add, sir,' resumed Mr. Burke, 'that I really am not acquainted with the state of his lordship's affairs in general. I know only what belongs to the estate under my own management. The principal part of his lordship's property, the Clonbrony estate, is under another agent, Mr. Garraghty.'
'Garraghty!' repeated Lord Colambre; 'what sort of a person is he? But I may take it for granted, that it cannot fall to the lot of one and the same absentee to have two such agents as Mr. Burke.'
Mr. Burke bowed, and seemed pleased by the compliment, which he knew he deserved—but not a word did he say of Mr. Garraghty; and Lord Colambre, afraid of betraying himself by some other indiscreet question, changed the conversation.
That very night the post brought a letter to Mr. Burke, from Lord Clonbrony, which Mr. Burke gave to his wife as soon as he had read it, saying—
'See the reward of all my services!'
Mrs. Burke glanced her eye over the letter, and, being extremely fond of her husband, and sensible of his deserving far different treatment, burst into indignant exclamations—
'See the reward of all your services, indeed!—What an unreasonable, ungrateful man!—So, this is the thanks for all you have done for Lord Clonbrony!'
'He does not know what I have done, my dear. He never has seen what I have done.'
'More shame for him!'
'He never, I suppose, looks over his accounts, or understands them.'
'More shame for him!'
He listens to foolish reports, or misrepresentations, perhaps. He is at a distance, and cannot find out the truth.'
'More shame for him!'
'Take it quietly, my dear; we have the comfort of a good conscience. The agency may be taken from me by this lord; but the sense of having done my duty, no lord or man upon earth can give or take away.'
'Such a letter!' said Mrs. Burke, taking it up again. 'Not even the civility to write with his own hand!—only his signature to the scrawl—looks as if it was written by a drunken man, does not it, Mr. Evans?' said she, showing the letter to Lord Colambre, who immediately recognised the writing of Sir Terence O'Fay.
'It does not look like the hand of a gentleman, indeed,' said Lord Colambre.
'It has Lord Clonbrony's own signature, let it be what it will,' said Mr. Burke, looking closely at it; 'Lord Clonbrony's own writing the signature is, I am clear of that.'
Lord Clonbrony's son was clear of it also; but he took care not to give any opinion on that point.
'Oh, pray, read it, sir, read it,' said Mrs. Burke, pleased by his tone of indignation; 'read it, pray; a gentleman may write a bad hand, but no GENTLEMAN could write such a letter as that to Mr. Burke—pray read it, sir; you who have seen something of what Mr. Burke has done for the town of Colambre, and what he has made of the tenantry and the estate of Lord Clonbrony.'
Lord Colambre read, and was convinced that his father had never written or read the letter, but had signed it, trusting to Sir Terence O'Fay's having expressed his sentiments properly.
SIR, As I have no further occasion for your services, you will take notice, that I hereby request you will forthwith hand over, on or before the 1st of November next, your accounts, with the balance due of the HANGING-GALE (which, I understand, is more than ought to be at this season) to Nicholas O'Garraghty, Esq., College Green, Dublin, who in future will act as agent, and shall get, by post, immediately, a power of attorney for the same, entitling him to receive and manage the Colambre as well as the Clonbrony estate, for, Sir, your obedient humble servant, CLONBRONY.
'GROSVENOR SQUARE.'
Though misrepresentation, caprice, or interest, might have induced Lord Clonbrony to desire to change his agent, yet Lord Colambre knew that his father never could have announced his wishes in such a style; and, as he returned the letter to Mrs. Burke, he repeated, he was convinced that it was impossible that any nobleman could have written such a letter; that it must have been written by some inferior person; and that his lordship had signed it without reading it.
'My dear, I'm sorry you showed that letter to Mr. Evans,' said Mr. Burke; 'I don't like to expose Lord Clonbrony; he is a well-meaning gentleman, misled by ignorant or designing people; at all events, it is not for us to expose him.'
'He has exposed himself,' said Mrs. Burke; 'and the world should know it.'
'He was very kind to me when I was a young man,' said Mr. Burke; 'we must not forget that now, because we are angry, my love.'
'Why, no, my love, to be sure we should not; but who could have recollected it just at this minute but yourself?—And now, sir,' turning to Lord Colambre, 'you see what kind of a man this is: now is it not difficult for me to bear patiently to see him ill-treated?'
'Not only difficult, but impossible, I should think, madam,' said Lord Colambre; 'I know, even I, who am a stranger, cannot help feeling for both of you, as you must see I do.'
'And half the world, who don't know him,' continued Mrs. Burke, 'when they hear that Lord Clonbrony's agency is taken from him, will think, perhaps, that he is to blame.'
'No, madam,' said Lord Colambre; 'that you need not fear; Mr. Burke may safely trust to his character; from what I have within these two days seen and heard, I am convinced that such is the respect he has deserved and acquired, that no blame can touch him.'
'Sir, I thank you,' said Mrs. Burke, the tears coming into her eyes; 'you can judge—you do him justice; but there are so many who don't know him, and who will decide without knowing any of the facts.'
'That, my dear, happens about everything to everybody,' said Mr. Burke; 'but we must have patience; time sets all judgments right, sooner or later.'
'But the sooner the better,' said Mrs. Burke. 'Mr. Evans, I hope you will be so kind, if ever you hear this business talked of—'
'Mr. Evans lives in Wales, my dear.'
But he is travelling through Ireland, my dear, and he said he should return to Dublin, and, you know, there he certainly will hear it talked of; and I hope he will do me the favour to state what he has seen and knows to be the truth.'
'Be assured that I will do Mr. Burke justice—as far as it is in my power,' said Lord Colambre, restraining himself much, that he might not say more than became his assumed character. He took leave of this worthy family that night, and, early the next morning, departed.
'Ah!' thought he, as he drove away from this well-regulated and flourishing place, 'how happy I might be, settled here with such a wife as—her of whom I must think no more.'
He pursued his way to Clonbrony, his father's other estate, which was at a
considerable distance from Colambre; he was resolved to know what kind of agent Mr. Nicholas Garraghty might be, who was to supersede Mr. Burke, and by power of attorney to be immediately entitled to receive and manage the Colambre as well as the Clonbrony estate.
Chapter X
*
Towards the evening of the second day's journey, the driver of Lord Colambre's hackney chaise stopped, and jumping off the wooden bar, on which he had been seated, exclaimed—
'We're come to the bad step, now. The bad road's beginning upon us, please your honour.'
'Bad road! that is very uncommon in this country. I never saw such fine roads as you have in Ireland.'
'That's true; and God bless your honour, that's sensible of that same, for it's not what all the foreign quality I drive have the manners to notice. God bless your honour! I heard you're a Welshman, but whether or no, I am sure you are a gentleman, anyway, Welsh or other.'
Notwithstanding the shabby greatcoat, the shrewd postillion perceived, by our hero's language, that he was a gentleman. After much dragging at the horses' heads, and pushing and lifting, the carriage was got over what the postillion said was the worst part of THE BAD STEP; but as the road 'was not yet to say good,' he continued walking beside the carriage.
'It's only bad just hereabouts, and that by accident,' said he, 'on account of there being no jantleman resident in it, nor near; but only a bit of an under-agent, a great little rogue, who gets his own turn out of the roads, and of everything else in life. I, Larry Brady, that am telling your honour, have a good right to know, for myself, and my father, and my brother. Pat Brady, the wheelwright, had once a farm under him; but was ruined, horse and foot, all along with him, and cast out, and my brother forced to fly the country, and is now working in some coachmaker's yard, in London; banished he is!—and here am I, forced to be what I am—and now that I'm reduced to drive a hack, the agent's a curse to me still, with these bad roads, killing my horses and wheels and a shame to the country, which I think more of—Bad luck to him!'
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