The Watchman's Grace

by Craig Johnson

  But today there was another matter on his mind equal to this special occasion. To be sure, Father Dougherty was no passive priest. Behind the scenes he was an activist determined to uplift all Irish citizens. His controlled outrage at the treatment of many only emboldened his belief in the equality of men. Despite a few reforms, any realistic observer would tell you there was still much to be done. And Father Dougherty began his sermon with that conviction in mind.

  “Hello and welcome to everyone gathered here this Sunday. I hope you are all well despite these straightened circumstances in our land. Remember, if one needs to draw strength to help them through any hardship, the compassionate grace of The Lord is only a prayer away.

  “Before we begin, I would like to say a few words in these harrowing times. Each day one is reminded of how this land of ours is changing. And although we should embrace progress when it helps build up the people, I fear a different change has gripped Ireland.

  “It pains me deeply to hear some of the correspondence I receive from colleagues in other parishes. Increasingly they lament how their flocks shrink while those that remain suffer unduly so. How it’s harder for countrymen to stay and easier to leave our ancient green.

  “Yes, the good order of times past is also changing because those that use forced means take more than is necessary. They continue to derive excessive gain through unreasonable means. Or so it seems from rising evictions of long lived tenants throughout the counties! And we know far too well how the starving, penniless tenant of today becomes an emigrant to survive tomorrow!

  “All of which leads me to speak about our happening today in Kilmarnie Church. This Sunday, for once in our parish, nay, probably the whole west coast of Ireland, we have living proof that there is someone in this land not waving a tearful goodbye to family and friends to cross deep waters. We have living proof that God has not abandoned this land of our fathers and their fathers’ fathers. We have living proof that Ireland is still blessed by little miracles.

  “Today is a first for Kilmarnie. No, not only in that way, for we are all God’s children, but in the uniqueness of today’s circumstances. I awoke today with the added grace that comes to a man touched by something special. I must say it’s hard for me to describe, though it is real. Listen to me carry on so! Without any more words, let us begin with our blessings.”

  As time rode forward, a proud Mary and Eamon proceeded towards Father Dougherty. There were a range of expressions etched in the faces of their congregation. Luminous smiles of well-wishers contrasted with the profound astonishment of more awkward onlookers. For there, right in the presence of these sheltering confines, this precious brown Moses was to become a part of their tight community.

  One could only guess why Father Dougherty railed on that sunny Sunday. In a town where ways and lives had carried on unchanged for decades, here was an occurrence that would catch attention even in Dublin. Something had changed in their small wind-swept patch by the sea.

  These entrenched inhabitants felt it in the same way they knew how to use this begrudging land for its best purpose. Call it instinct, or just expectation, because Peter Harvey came to Kilmarnie in no regular fashion. To borrow a phrase from any old soul that would spare you a line, “the way they come in is the way they will be.”

  To say the months after christening were lived in complete understanding would be a folly of great scale. There was and always would be a sideways glance, occasional sneer and underhanded remark towards the new family. But Mary, Eamon and Peter were made of sterner stuff, showing no quarter to these petty transgressions. Take for example what happened a few years forward.

  As was her custom, Mary came to town for essentials while Eamon watched Peter. On this particular occasion she came upon the innkeeper and townsman of note, Shawn McGowan. McGowan was not the most popular man in their village, due to his lofty airs and thinly veiled ambitions. But he did maintain a decent rapport with most. As they approached each other in passing he greeted her.

  “Good day to you Mary Harvey. I trust all is well with you and yours.”

  “Hello Mr. McGowan. It is a well enough day indeed. How are things with you?”

  “Decent, I suppose. Well you know, besides the usual idle chatter. Not that you would care much about such.”

  Mary caught the subtle meaning of his phrasing. “Is there something of the matter to me Mr. McGowan?”

  McGowan looked conspiratorially about the street before responding. “Well it has been some time since you found that boy. And you’ve done a fine job saving him from goodness knows what! It’s just that some of us think it may be time you found a better place for the young lad, perhaps England, where one of his own can finish his upbringing.”

  Mary was astounded by this naked transgression. On composing herself, she knew the vast majority of townsfolk did not take to this man’s views whatsoever.

  “You show such concern for an issue in which you hold no stake. You tell me Mr. McGowan. Should I thank you for your attention or tell those same people I appreciate their ideas next time they mock your ascendancy class aspirations?”

  McGowan misjudged the strong character of Mary Harvey. He stood flustered at her response, though prepared to issue a retort. Just as he was about to answer, a familiar figure approached them. To their mutual surprise it was Father Dougherty.

  “Good day Mary. Hello Shawn. It looks to be another fine morning with our weather. Perhaps we will get an early summer?”

  Mary was still glowering at McGowan while he replied to the priest. “I would have to think so Father Dougherty, looking at the budding trees outside my home.”

  The priest barely acknowledged his words. He caught the mood of Mary and became interested in the reason for her consternation.

  “Mary, sorry for asking, but you look to be a little out of sorts. May I ask why?”

  She took that opportunity to wipe the smugness from McGowan’s face. “Not much really. Just came into town as usual to pick up a few things for home. Oh yes, and Mr. McGowan here had advice for me about the future of my son Peter. He was of the opinion that perhaps Peter should be sent away to England rather than be amongst his family here.”

  Father Dougherty immediately lost his pleasant disposition. “I see Mary. Well Shawn, is it true what she just said?”

  McGowan knew his prejudiced feelings were of severe disdain to the priest. Caught in the act, he had no choice but to confess. He straightened his posture and answered the query.

  “We’ve been speaking nothing out of the ordinary Father. Chatting with young Mary here about the weather is all. And yes, maybe not in blatant terms, though I did think it appropriate to offer my views to aid her. I see no harm in that.”

  Mary had not witnessed such patent disgust on Father Dougherty’s face in years. Here was a man who spent his whole adult life fighting to reform oppressive restrictions against his fellow countryman. He held a firm belief in the kinship between the emancipation of American Coloreds and the emancipation of all Irish in his own land. He had no quarter for the hypocrisy of bigots amongst his flock.

  “Mary, you must accept my apologies for the manners of Mr. McGowan,” he spoke in calm measure. “I find it such a shame there still lives in certain minds a confused ideal on the nature of countrymen. These people see the oppressor with his bloody lucre and are willing to trade their morality for the life of a hard master.

  “Their betrayal to everyone, including themselves, is completed when they spread unfounded ignorance through uninformed chatter to others. Little do they see the poison which flows from their spiteful mouth, but others take careful note of the source.

  “The tragic part of it all is this. When such a person reaches the misguided aim to which he has set out, they realize there is no commonality between that which they have become and those they want to be. And certainly those they did forsake want no part of their company.

/>   “A broken soul they began and a broken soul they become. There is no salvation for these people. They must seek to mend their own ways to find true happiness within themselves.”

  Father Dougherty’s incisive words cut like a scalpel into the heart of McGowan’s inner torment. The priest had not looked away from McGowan the whole time. Upon finishing, he touched his left hand on his forehead as if he remembered something.

  “Oh dear, I’m so sorry for taking up this much time. Mary, the congregation constantly tells me how well you are taking care of young Peter. He is treasured dearly by all of us. You Harvey’s have been living in Kilmarnie as long as the sea, perhaps even longer, and are admired for your good will. If any person has issues with your family, it will soon become my concern! I must be off now. Good day to you both.”

  Father Dougherty’s words hit their mark. Ego humbled with face flushed, McGowan barely grumbled a good day to Mary before striding off to his inn. One could only guess whether he gleaned any fresh insight from the encounter, or if anger would cement his petty intransigence towards the Harvey household.

  Ensuing months flew by in Peter’s development. It seemed an instant before he was of age to attend the local school. As with any mother, it was a defining moment for Mary to see Peter leave her constant vigil, even for just a few hours a day. But to her there was more to it. For she felt in her innermost conviction Peter’s special ways would soon attract a wider audience.

  From the start of schooling, it was obvious to his teachers that Peter had a gift for scholarly pursuit. His eagerness to learn hinted at the workings of a brilliant mind. And his easy manner, combined with a positive disposition, led to a good standing among his peers.

  During his upbringing it was never kept a secret that Peter’s natural parents were unknown. Though having scarcely been born, he held no recollection of them. For practically his whole life he had known Mary as his mother and Eamon as granddad. He would wonder about his birth parents as time went on, though just from the perspective of being one part of what made him whole. For in his heart, he felt an Irishman and the Island his country.

  It would be a hallmark since the beginning of his birth that Peter Harvey was a unique individual in matters of conscious. The respect conferred upon him was not a fleeting kind born of curiosity, but earned well and good. Peter expected no advantages and was given none, which suited him just fine.

  Those who may have been standoffish towards the beginning grew to like him well enough. And people that knew his special character came to love him. Over time he grew into a welcomed part of his community, and a complement to the Harvey’s good name. These were fruitful days of discovery for the preteen Peter. Through it all most of his experiences were solid. Yet one evening did stand out in Mary’s mind.

  Usually in good disposition, she was shocked one autumn day when Peter came home visibly upset. Of course the pranks and games of children that age can be hard; though he could take as well as he gave. No, it was deeper than playground rumpus which painted the frown upon his handsome face.

  When he entered the house Mary could sense unease in his manner. So after they exchanged greetings, she came towards him to see what was at issue.

  “Peter, how went the day with you son?” she inquired.

  He looked at her carefully before replying. “Well enough I suppose. Our teacher made us compose a few verses of poem and recite it to the class. I think that went well.”

  Mary could tell this was not the reason for his discomfort. “That certainly sounds like a creative exercise. Were there any other interesting things you did in class?”

  Peter knew his mother had caught on to him, and soon relented to her gentle probing. “Well, I was just walking home down Hillcrest Road past the Connolly house. You know where that is.”

  “Of course Peter. They’ve been tenants on that acreage for years. So then what happened?”

  “Well mother, that’s just it! I heard a commotion coming from the house. It’s set back from the road a bit, though it was still plain to see. There was a well-dressed man with two other rougher types. And then they…” Peter’s voice trailed off as deep recollections came to mind.

  “What did they do Peter? It’s okay to say.”

  “They dragged Mr. Connolly out of the house, cursing him up and down. I could not believe it! I moved closer and watched behind a thick tree. They entered their house and started throwing the family’s belongings outside. Then Mrs. Connolly and their two daughters were forced out. It was terrible to see Mr. Connolly begging to the gentleman! And his poor wife was pleading so desperately.”

  “Son, of course this is all very disturbing. I hate listening to such aggression against those folks. So tell me, did the gentleman show them any mercy?”

  Peter shifted his posture as if he were very uncomfortable. “That’s the thing mother,” he answered in stunned wonderment. “He laughed aloud with the two brutes beside him. Then he struck Mr. Connolly clear across his face!

  “Then I heard him say these words. “My family was titled this land generations ago and will do as I see fit. If you cannot afford the increase then I will find a better use for this land. Your lot should be happy that I don’t bring you up on charges for trespassing. You still owe me five months’ rent!””

  Mary flinched in disgust. “How horrible that must have been! No wonder you’re so shaken Peter. Did you see how the Connolly family made out?”

  “They left the place with their pride gone and no destination in particular. I was angry mother! They’re good people and deserved to be treated better. And here this foul man was judge and jury upon them. Something’s not right when one holds so much power to make a person lose so much.”

  Mary was taken aback when she heard the landowner was present. Most of the time he was absent at his residence in England, having left management of that property to a middleman. There had been quite a few talking in the village about rapid increases in rent for tenants. It was said this was done to force long time tenants off the land for other moneymaking schemes.

  Middlemen who leased out lands of the “ascendancy class” were continually maximizing profit at the expense of tenants. With a growing appetite for beef in England, many agents saw schemes like cattle grazing as a more efficient way to gain lucre. Therefore evictions were becoming increasingly commonplace throughout the land. Thus, each day Mary was thankful their homestead was Harvey land.

  “I’m so sorry you had to witness that Peter. I wish all could be right in our little village, but as you know it’s not so. My prayers go out to the Connolly family. But there’s nothing we can do to get them back their tenancy.”

  Peter nodded in understanding. “I know, but there must be a way to help those in that situation next time! The whole scene was complete misery, ugly and mocking! I’m still frustrated, because something’s not right with it.”

  Mary came over and gave Peter a warm hug. “You’re so right my son. Today could not be won. So be it. But we can always hope the next time things work out better. Okay?”

  Peter nodded affirmatively. Yet in his heart and mind he determined that hope alone would not set the course for justice. These events would sear into the core of his being. On that day Peter Harvey went from a boy of learning to a man of conscious. And it would certainly define his character in later years.

  Chapter Nine

  BORN A STRANGER IN ANOTHER LAND

  Beauty comes in many forms, so take heed to live with open eyes

  A few years on from the Connolly affair found Mary in deep thought about her beloved son. He had grown into quite a respected young adult who held much promise. So when she thought about what the future held for him in Kilmarnie, Mary became a touch bothered.

  The village was a fertile place for Peter to grow up and develop his sense of self. And though it may have lacked for the material things in other places, it was more tha
n compensated by other aspects. A loving family, dedicated teachers and solid townsfolk formed a sound basis for Peter’s upbringing.

  Now, as a young adult, Mary had to think about a future vocation for her only child. But when she looked about Kilmarnie, the same thought repeated in her mind. This town was no place for one with such potential. Indeed, Mary would not bear any limits on his developing talents.

  As days came and went, she became even more perplexed. Now looking to tackle the issue straight away, she sought good counsel to share her thoughts. Mary naturally turned to a trusted talisman, her father Eamon. And before Peter came home from school one spring afternoon, she sought out his advice.

  Mary found him outside in a small garden he tended during fairer months. She tapped his left shoulder as he bent over planting.

  “How goes the gardening father? The weather is definitely getting into season for it.”

  Eamon rose and turned his head. He gave Mary a big smile.

  “That is true. The soil has a good feel to it, so I expect some good growing this summer. How are you today?”

  Mary went directly to the matter. “You know how much I love Kilmarnie. The sea is so close, the air is fresh and the people well enough most of the time. But when I look around with open eyes, I wonder what it has to hold the interests of a lad like Peter.

  “My wants are few and I made the choice to stay here for good. But Peter is not cut like that. He needs a place which will grow with him. I guess I’ve known that since he was a wee child.”

  “Now you’re wondering if it’s time to let the apron strings go and encourage his potential. We know he has that in droves! So what’s the bother then?”

  Mary’s hands moved in questioning gestures. “It’s a mother’s heart which makes it hard to let a child go. I mean, is it wrong for me to want better for Peter? To give him the chances we never had? His teachers are always telling me of his exceptional abilities. I want him to be able to further his gift and have a go at things.