Valentine M'Clutchy, The Irish Agent Part 16

"Who are coming, Raymond?" asked Harman. "Oh!" said the fool, "hurry--M'Clutchy's blood-hounds."

The wife clapped her hands, shrieked, and falling on her knees, exclaimed in a piercing voice, "merciful G.o.d, look down on us! Oh, Father Roche, there is not a moment to be lost!"

The priest and Harman again exchanged a melancholy glance;--"you must all retire into the little room," said the clergyman, "until I administer to him the last rites."

They accordingly withdrew, the woman having first left a lit rush light candle at his bed-side, as she knew the ceremony required.

The man's strength was wasting fast, and his voice sinking rapidly, but on the other hand he was calm and rational, a circ.u.mstance which relieved the priest's mind very much. As is usual, having put a stole about his neck, he first heard his confession, earnestly exhorted him to repentance, and soothed and comforted him with all those promises and consolations which are held out to repentant sinners. He then administered the Extreme Unction; which being over, the ceremony, and a solemn one it must be considered, was concluded. On this occasion, however, his death-bed consolations did not end here. There are in the Roman Catholic Church prayers for the dying, many of them replete with the fervor of Christian faith, and calculated to raise the soul to the hopes of immortality. These the priest read in a slow manner, so as that the dying man could easily accompany him, which he did with his hands clasped, upon his breast, and his eyes closed, unless when he raised them occasionally to heaven. He then exhorted him with an anxiety for his salvation which transcended all earthly and temporal considerations, prayed with him and for him, whilst the tears streamed in torrents down his cheeks. Nor was the spirit of his holy mission lost; the penitent man's face a.s.sumed a placid and serene expression; the light of immortal hope beamed upon it; and raising his eyes and his feeble arms to heaven, he uttered several e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns in a tone of voice too low to be heard.

At length he exclaimed aloud, "thanks to the Almighty that I did not commit this murder as I intended! I found it done to my hand; but I don't know who did it, as I am to meet my G.o.d!" The words were p.r.o.nounced with difficulty; indeed they were scarcely uttered, when his arms fell lifelessly, as it were, by his side--they were again suddenly drawn up, however, as if by a convulsive motion, and the priest saw that the agonies of death were about to commence; still, it was easy to perceive that the man was collected and rational.

It was now, however, that a scene took place, which could not, we imagine, be witnessed out of distracted and unhappy Ireland. Raymond, who appeared to dread the approach of those whom he termed M'Clutchy's blood-hounds, no sooner saw that the religious rites were concluded, than he ran out to reconnoitre. In a moment, however, he returned a picture of terror, and dragging the woman to the door, pointed to a declivity below the house, exclaiming--

[Ill.u.s.tration: PAGE 186-- See, Mary, see--they're gallopin]

"See, Mary, see--they're gallopin'." The dying man seemed conscious of what was said, for the groan he gave was wild and startling; his wife dropped on her knees at the door, where she could watch her husband and those who approached, and clasping her hands, exclaimed, "To your mercy, O Lord of heaven, to your mercy take him, before he falls into their hands, that will show him none!" She then bestowed upon him a look full of an impatient agony, which no language could describe; her eyes had already become wild and piercing--her cheek flushed--and her frame animated with a spirit that seemed to partake at once of terror, intense hatred, and something like frenzy.

"They are gallopin'! they are gallopin'!" she said, "and they will find life in him!" She then wrung her hands, but shed not a tear--"speed, Hugh," she said, "speed, speed, husband of my heart--the arms of G.o.d are they not open for you, and why do you stay?" These sentiments, we should have informed our readers, were uttered, or rather chaunted in a recitative of sorrow, in Irish; Irish being the language in which the peasantry who happen to speak both it and English, always express themselves when more than usually excited. "The sacred oil of salvation is upon you--the sacrament of peace and forgiveness has lightened your soul--the breath of mercy is the breath you're breathin'--the hope of Jesus is in your heart, and the intercession of his blessed mother, she that knew sorrow herself, is before you! Then, light of my heart, the arms of G.o.d are they not open for you, and why do you stay here?"

"Nearer--nearer," she exclaimed, "they are nearer--whippin' and spurrin'

their horses! Hugh O'Regan, that was the sun of my life, and of my heart, and ever without a cloud, hasten to the G.o.d of mercy! Oh, surely, you will not blame your own Mary that was your lovin' wife--and the treasure of your young and manly heart, for wis.h.i.+n' to see you taken from her eyes--and for wis.h.i.+ng to see the eyes that,never looked upon us all but with love and kindness, closed on us forever. Oh," said she, putting her hands to her forehead, "an' is it--is it come to this--that I that was dearer to him than his own life a thousand times, should now be glad to see him die--be glad to see him die! Oh! they are here,"

she shrieked, "before the door--you may hear their horses' feet!

Hugh O'Regan," and her voice became louder and more energetic--"the white-skinned--the fair of hair, the strong of hand, and the true of heart--as you ever loved me that was once your happy bride--as you ever loved the religion of our holy church--as you hope for happiness and mercy, hasten from me--from our orphan--from all--oh, hasten to the arms of your G.o.d!"

During this scene there was a solemn silence in the house, the priest and Harman having both been struck mute at the solemnity of the scene.

"They are here--they are here!" she screamed. "Oh, sun of my heart, think not now of me, nor of the children of your love, for we will follow you in time--but think of the happy country you're going to,--to live in the suns.h.i.+ne of heaven, among saints and angels for ever! Oh, sun of my heart, think too of what you lave behind you! What is it?

Oh! what is it to you--but poverty, and misery, and hards.h.i.+p--the cowld cabin and the damp bed--the frost of the sky--the frown of power, and the scourge of law--all this, oh, right hand of my affection, with the hard labor and the scanty food, do you fly from! Sure we had no friend in this world to protect or defend us against them that, would trample us under their feet! No friend for us because we are poor, and no friend for our religion because it is despised. Then hasten, hasten, O light of my heart--and take refuge in the mercy of your G.o.d!"

"Mary," said the priest, who had his eyes fixed upon the sick man, "Give G.o.d thanks, he is dead--and beyond the reach of human enmity forever."

She immediately prostrated herself on the floor in token of humility and thanksgiving--then raising her eyes to heaven, she said, "may the heart of the woeful widow be grateful to the G.o.d who has taken him to his mercy before they came upon him! But here they are, and now I am not afraid of them. They can't insult my blessed husband now, nor murdher him, as his father's villains did our dyin' son, on the cowld Esker of Drum Dhu; nor disturb him with their barbarous torments on the bed of death--and glory be to G.o.d for that!"

Many of our readers may be led to imagine that the terrors of Mary O'Regan were altogether unproportioned to anything that might be apprehended from the approach of the officers of justice, or, at least to those who came to execute the law. The state of Irish society at that time, however, was very different from what it is now, or has been for the last twenty years. At that period one party was in the ascendant and the other directly under their feet; the former was in the possession of irresponsible power, and the other, in many matters, without any tribunal whatsoever to which, they could appeal. The Established Church of Ireland was then a sordid corporation, whose wealth was parcelled out, not only without principle, but without shame, to the English and Irish aristocracy, but princ.i.p.ally to the English. Church livings were not filled with men remarkable for learning and piety, but awarded to political prost.i.tution, and often to young rakes of known and unblus.h.i.+ng profligacy, connected with families of rank. The consequence was, that a gross secular spirit, replete with political hatred and religious rancor, was the only principle which existed in the place of true religion. That word was then, except in rare cases indeed, a dead letter; for such was the state of Protestant society then, and for several years afterwards, that it mattered not how much or how little a man of that creed knew about the principles of his own church; and as it was administered the less he knew of it the better--all that was necessary to const.i.tute a good Protestant was "to hate the Pope." In truth--for it cannot be concealed, and we write it with deep pain and sorrow--the Established Church of Ireland was then, in point of fact, little else than a mere political engine held by the English government for the purpose of securing the adherence of those who were willing to give support to their measures.

In such a state of things, then, it need not be wondered at, that, neglected and secularized as it was at the period we write of, it should produce a cla.s.s of men, whose pa.s.sions in everything connected with religion and politics were intolerant and exclusive. Every church, no matter what its creed, unfortunately has its elect of such professors.

Nor were these confined to the lower cla.s.ses alone--far from it. The squire and n.o.bleman were too frequently both alike remarkable for the exhibition of such principles. Of this cla.s.s was our friend M'Clutchy, who was now a justice of the peace, a grand juror, and a captain of cavalry--his corps having, a little time before, been completed. With this posse, as the officers of justice, the pranks he played were grievous to think of or to remember. He and they were, in fact, the terror of the whole Roman Catholic population; and from the spirit in which they executed justice, were seldom called by any other name than that of M'Clutchy's Bloodhounds. Upon the present occasion they were unaccompanied by M'Clutchy himself--a circ.u.mstance which was not to be regretted, as there was little to be expected from his presence but additional brutality and insult.

On arriving at the door, they hastily dismounted, and rushed into the cabin with their usual violence and impetuosity, each being armed with a carbine and bayonet.

"Hallo!" said the leader, whose name was Sharpe; "what's here? shamming sickness is it?"

"No," said Father Roche; "it is death?"

"Ay! shamming death then. Never mind--we'll soon see that. Come, Steele, give him a prod--a gentle one--and I'll engage it'll make him find tongue, if anything will."

Steele, to whom this was addressed, drew his bayonet, and commenced s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g it on, for the purpose of executing his orders.

"A devilish good trick, too," said he; "and the first of the kind that has been practised on us yet--here goes--"

Up until this moment O'Regan's wife sat beside the dead body of her husband, without either word or motion. A smile of--it might be satisfaction, perhaps even joy, at his release; or it might be hatred--was on her face, and in her eye; but when the man pointed his bayonet at the corpse of her husband, she started to her knees, and opening out her arms, exclaimed--

"Here's my heart--and through that heart your bayonet will go, before it touches his body. Oh, if you have hearts in your bodies, you will surely spare the dead!"

"Here goes, ma'am," he repeated, "and you had better lave that--we're not in the habit of being checked by the like of you, at any rate, or any of your creed."

"I am not afeared to profess my creed--nor ashamed of it," she exclaimed; and if it went to that, I would die for it--but I tell you, that before your bayonet touches the dead body of my husband, it must pa.s.s through my heart!"

"Don't be alarmed, Mary," said the priest; "they surely cannot be serious. It's not possible that any being in the shape of man could be guilty of such a sacrilegious outrage upon the dead as they threaten."

"What is it your business?" said the leader; "go and tare off your ma.s.ses, and be hanged; none of your Popish interference here, or it'll be worse for you! I say the fellow's not dead--he's only skeining. Come, Alick, put the woman aside, and tickle him up."

"Keep aside, I tell you," said Steele, again addressing her--"keep aside, my good woman, till I obey my orders--and don't provoke me."

Father Roche was again advancing to remonstrate with him, for the man's determination seemed likely to get stronger by opposition--when, just as the bayonet which had already pa.s.sed under the woman's arm, was within a few inches of O'Regan's body, he felt himself dragged forcibly back, and Raymond-na-hattha stood before him, having seized both carbine and bayonet with a strong grip.

"Don't do that," he exclaimed--"don't--you'd hurt him--sure you'd hurt poor Hugh!"

The touching simplicity of this language, which, to a heart possessing the least tincture of humanity, would have more, force than the strongest argument, was thrown away upon him to whom it was directed.

"Fling the blasted idiot off," shouted Sharpe; "don't you see he has let the cat out o' the bag--how could the man be hurted if he was dead; I knew it was a schame." To throw Raymond off, however, was easier said than done, as the fellow found on attempting it. A struggle commenced between them, which, though violent, was not of long duration. Raymond's eye got turbid, and glared with a fiery light; but otherwise his complexion did not change. By a vehement twist, he wrenched the arms out of Steele's hands, hurling him from him at the same time, with such force, that he fell on the floor with a crash.

"Now," said he, pointing the bayonet to his neck, "would you like it?---ha, ha!--think of that."

Four carbines--the whole party consisting of five--were immediately levelled at him; and it is not improbable that half a minute more would have closed both his existence and his history, had not Father Roche and the widow both succeeded, with some difficulty, in drawing him back from the prostrate officer of justice. Raymond, after a little time, gave up the arms; but his eye still blazed at his opponent, with a glare that could not be misunderstood.

Harman, who had hitherto taken no part whatsoever in the altercation, now interfered; and with feelings which he found it nearly impossible to restrain, pointed out to them the wanton cruelty of such conduct towards both the living and the dead. "I am ashamed of you," said he, "as countrymen, as Irishmen. Your treatment of this poor heartbroken woman, amidst her desolation and sorrow, is a disgrace to the country that gave you birth, and to the religion you profess, if, indeed, you profess any."

"Come, come, my good fellow," said Sharpe, "what is it you say about my religion? I tell you I'll allow no man to spake a syllable against my religion; so keep quiet if you're wise, and don't attack that, otherwise don't be surprised if I make you dance the devil's hornpipe in half a shake, great a hairo as you are."

"And yet you felt no scruple in just now insulting religion, in the person of this reverend gentleman who never offended you."

"Him! why what the h.e.l.l is he but a priest?"

"And the more ent.i.tled to your respect on that account--but since you are so easily excited in defence of your own creed, why so ready to attack in such offensive and insulting language that of another?"

"Come, come, Sharpe," said another of them, "are we to be here all day--whatever we're to do let us do it at once; if the fellow's dead, why he has had a devilish good escape of it, and if not, let us clap him on a horse, that is, provided he's able to travel. I think myself he has got the start of us, and that the wind's out of him."

"Take your time," said Steele, who felt anxious to avenge his defeat upon some one, "we must know, that before ever we leave the house--and by the great Boyne, the first person that goes between me and him will get the contents of this," and as he uttered the words he coolly and deliberately c.o.c.ked the gun, and was advancing as before to the dead body.

"Holdback," said Harman, in a voice which made the man start, whilst with a firm tread and resolute eye, he stood face to face before him; "hold back, and dare not violate that sacred and awful privilege, which in every country and creed under heaven is sufficient to protect the defenceless dead. What can be your object in this? are you men--have you the spirit, the courage, of men? If you are human beings, is not the sight of that unhappy fellow-creature--I hope he is happy now,--stretched out in death before you, sufficient, by the very stillness of departed life, to calm the brutal frenzy of your pa.s.sions!

Have you common courage? No; I tell you to your teeth that none but spiritless caitiffs and cowards would, in the presence of death and sorrow--in the miserable cabin of the dest.i.tute widow and her orphan boy--exhibit the ruffianly outrages of men who are wanton in their cruelty, merely because they know there is none to resist them; and I may add, because they think that their excesses, however barbarous, will be s.h.i.+elded by higher authority. No, I tell you, if there stood man for man before you, even without arms in their hands, you would not dare to act and swagger as you do, or to play these cruel pranks of oppression and tyranny anywhere, much less in the house of death and affliction.

Fie upon you, you are a disgrace to everything that is human, a reproach to every feeling of manhood, and every principle of religion."

Hardened as they were by the habits of their profligate and debasing employment, such was the ascendancy of manly truth and and moral feeling over them, that for a minute or two they quailed under the indignant glance of Harman. Steele drew back his gun, and looked round on his companions to ascertain their feeling.

"Gentleman," said Father Roche, anxious to mollify them as much as he could--"gentleman, for the sake of that poor heart-broken widowed woman and her orphan son--for her and his sake, and if not for theirs then, for the sake of G.o.d himself, before whose awful judgment-seat we must all stand to render an account of our works, I entreat--I implore you to withdraw--do, gentlemen, and leave her and her children to their sorrows and their misery, for the world has little else for them."

"I'm willing to go," said a fellow, ironically called Handsome Hacket, because he was blind of an eye and deeply pock-pitted--"there's no use in quarrellin' with a woman certainly--and I don't think there can be any doubt about the man's death; devil a bit."