Peter of the castle ; and The fetches

Introduction

TO

THE FETCHES.

aa re

I HAVE had occasion, in a previous introduction of mine to this edition of our Tales, to allude to Barnes O’Hara’s first resolute plunge into the literary current of the great metropolis, wherein so few find a footing, and beneath the waters of which so many are submerged ; their buffetings against the stream unknown, or mayhap their fate regarded as retributive for presumption, by those who float buoyantly on.

I have before stated that on the evening when my brother and his young wife reached London, their purse was very lank indeed. Although the wife’s father ranked as a country gentleman, he like many of his class in Ireland, lived fully up to his income if not beyond it, and my brother received no dowry. Taking a wife, however, without a fortune, only proved his disinterestedness. A late literary success had put him in funds: this appeared to his sanguine eye as nothing more than the first fruits, raised from a mine of precious ore, more and more and more to be brought to the surface, whenever sought for. There was no need of looking after shillings, when sovereigns were to be had for the seeking ; and so, when the provident pair Beek up rb INTRODUCTION TO THE FETCHES.

their quarters at Brompton Grove, in London, their honeymoon not yet on the wane, the contents of their purse would not take long to reckon.

We knew nothing here at home about the escape of the gas from my brother’s balloon—he did not imform us of his descent until he had remounted. He had for some time declared his resolve to win his way to fame and wealth without aid from any one. ‘ He had floated beyond our contracted vision, and we supposed him to be sailing loftily. We could and we would have given him good aid in his need, but he was too proud and too self-reliant to ask it even of us, and we learned of his difficulties only when he had surmounted them.

My brother was scarcely twenty-four, and his wife four years his junior when they reached London. Notwithstanding the modest jingle of the purse, the husband held up his head, and assured the wife it should soon be replenished; and she did not doubt him for one instant. Independence, nay, more than independence was within his reach ;—she saw him so true a believer himself that she adopted his creed implicitly.

A little while, however, and the prophet had reason to doubt his gift of prescience. Holding his head high as the writer of the very successful drama of Damon and Pythias, he sought a literary engagement. Day after day he sought opportunity to exercise the literary talent his self-measurement led him to conclude that he possessed ;—day after day he returned to Brompton Grove, weary and crest-fallen—day by day becoming less confident of himself, and more doubtful of his ability to redeem the pledge he had made to his believing wife.

He told me afterwards that, had he been alone, he must have faltered and failed; that he must inevitably have

INTRODUCTION TO THE FETCHES. li become hopeless and paralyzed ; that, in fact, apprehension on his wife’s account imparted unflagging perseverance. We knew nothing of his dangerous position at home, as I have before said, or aid would have been rendered.

At length, when the purse yielded no jingle at all, shake it ever so briskly, he obtained an engagement on a weekly periodical, “The Literary Register,” the salary £102 per annum, paid weekly. For this, to him at the time, large income, he turned his hand to many things. He was the art critic to the “ Register,” for which he was fairly qualified, having studied the theory of painting closely, with the intention of being an artist. He criticised books on all subjects, knowing very little about some of them, as he subsequently acknowledged to me: he even taught his wife the craft of criticising, as he also jocularly revealed to me. He attended the theatre, as theatrical critic, on special occasions : and he contributed light papers, now and again. Writing to me, at this time, he thus expresses himself: “The obligation to write, whether ‘1’ the vein’ or not, I have to meet. The insatiable maw of the printer’s devil must be crammed, whether the food be nutricious, or barely — filling, or even hurtful.”

After a while, Ellen, his wife, helping to satisfy the appetite of the special printer’s devil he was bound to gratify, he occasionally contributed to other periodicals besides “ The Literary Register.” The very first tale in which he and I were jointly concerned was published in the “ European Magazine,” under the title of “ Molcth na Vaugha, or, the Mother’s Curse.” My brother’s connexion with the “Literary Register” was in the year 1822. Amongst his light papers contributed thereto, the superstition of “The Fetch” was introduced; and iv INTRODUCTION TO THE FETCHES.

on these papers the matured tale, published first in 1825, and now reproduced, was founded.

I trust I may be excused for giving this scrap of biography in connexion with “The Fetches.”

I should mention that, with the exception of having the tale sent to me for judgment and paring, previous to publication, “The Fetches” was written by Barnes O'Hara.

MICHAEL BANIM.

Kilkenny, 11th August, 1866.

INTRODUCTION

TO

“ PETER OF THE CASTLE” was originally published in 1826. It was begun and ended in a month, and appeared as the Third Volume of the Second Series of the Tales. Two portions only of “ Peter of the Castle” were contributed by me; the introductory chapter, descriptive of our Hibernian mode of celebrating the Continental Carnival, and a sketch of the proceedings at a country wedding, made use of in the fifth chapter, these were furnished at my brother’s request, and dovetailed into his story.

Barnes O’Hara had never been at an Irish country wedding, but Abel O’Hara had been a guest at many. I have before stated that I made it my business at the time to avail myself of every possible opportunity to mix with the people I wished to describe. And let it not be thought that I venture onan untenable assertion when I state, that at the wedding feasts attended by me, professionally I may say, where the Irish rustics were seen to the best advantage, I encountered little other than genuine politeness, as I understand the term. “To do or say nothing that can injure, or even give pain,” is a pithy definition of politeness, given in my hearing by a very vi INTRODUCTION TO PETER OF THE CASTLE.

amiable, and a very polite man too. For this definition few, I think, will find a more expressive substitute. The rules and formule of society are nothing more than a code, compelling the ill-natured, the careless, and the depraved, to seem, outwardly at least, “to do unto others as they would wish to be done by.”

Adopting this short and definite elucidation of what the word politeness means, and making due allowance for those who had not had the advantage of studying Chesterfield’s letters to his son, so little esteemed by the impolite Doctor Johnson, I am bold enough to assert that I have met at our Irish marriage feasts, never otherwise that I can remember, true and genuine politeness. As for myself personally, I found a consideration and attention, impulsive, I admit, but not rude or embarrassing— all round me there were merry but not licentious faces— frequently awkward, but always hearty greetings, goodfellowship, and good humour.

And why should not these be the characteristics of an Irish “country wedding,” as witnessed by me. The young of both sexes came there dressed in their choicest holiday attire; the old came there in their Sunday clothes also ;—the boys and girls came to be sweet with each other, impelled by the same universal law of attraction that influences the high and the low; and the old came there to forget crops and weather, tithes, taxes, and rents, and be careless and jovial to their hearts’ content; andthe consequence was that all crudities were softened, and the amenities sprouted out luxuriantly.

The presence of as many above their own rank in life as the two families about to be united could enlist, or seduce to attend, was a desideratum at the nuptial banquet; and for good reasons, too, was the lure set forth and the pressure brought to bear.

INTRODUCTION TO PETER OF THE CASTLE, Vil

It was not lost sight of, that distinction and eclat were obtained by the attendance at the wedding feast of persons holding rank above the inviters ; as stars of superior magnitude, all such shed a temporary brilliancy, illuminating the system. But there was a more mundane and a more vital reason, for canvassing the landlord, the agent, the interested shopkeeper who had supplied the groceries and the drinkables, and the others who had furnished the fabrics for the wedding attire, and, beyond such as these, any of a like grade who had been on some occasion or other even distantly civil.

Not only the immediate connexions of the young couple to be married, but indeed the entire neighbourhood where the® wedding was to take place, felt it imperative that the festivity should bear high repute and. reflect honour on all concerned: the family pride, and the general local pride were at stake; and no pains were spared, or precautions neglected, to have the wedding lauded as “a grand wedding entirely.”

The fame of the wedding was to be established by the amount of the ieee made in exchange for the tendered bride-cake ; it was either “a grand Syed or it was not, in Dopontion to the sum so contributed ; and heads were carried loftily or depressed, according to the magnitude or mediocrity of the gathering. The poorest neighbour was not excluded from the almost general invitation; but it behoved those concerned for the reputation of the two families immediately interested, and truly for the reputation of the length and breadth of the parish, to make provision that the meagre offering of the lowly visitor should be counterbalanced by the liberality of other guests, willing and able to lay down stoutly. It will be understood, therefore, that a good sprinkling of superior folk was to be provided, if vill INTRODUCTION TO PETER OF THE CASTLE.

the wedding was to be spoken of as “a grand wedding entirely.”

I was a guest at a country wedding in the first instance by solicitation on my part to. the priest. I went, of course, to study my subject, as a painter would say. Subsequently, my fame was bruited about: I was understood to be a generous donator, and I got credit too for the aptitude with which I entered into the hilarious proceedings of those with whom I mingled : subsequent invitations were frequent in consequence. I am able to say, therefore, that the description of the wedding in the story of “ Peter of the Castle” is faithful.

Were I still young, and a “bachelor boy,” I would regret the change that has taken placé since “ Peter of the Castle” was written. The marriage vow is now, in all cases, pledged before the altar in the Catholic church of the parish ; and the out-and-out hilarity of my young days does not now accompany the marriage ceremony.

MICHAEL BANIM.

Kilkenny, 14th May, 1866.

PETER OF THE CASTLE.

Chapter I. Introductory

“THERE is a time for all things,” saith the proverb; and while this is taken to mean that there are distinct times proper to all the various acts we have to perform, we presume it further permits the same thing to be done at different times and in different places. For instance :—

The month of May, with its flowers, and its soft breezes, and its mild sun, is generally allowed to be the best season for young, ardent love to blossom, and, from its novelty and freshness, to yield the purest delight. And yet we are aware of another season, in our own marrying country, when, tired of their gambols round the winter fire-side, weary even of their mutual devotions, and, as it were, miserable at their happiness, love leads his votaries, manacled, two by two, before the throne of Hymen, in processions so long and crowded as to create much squeezing and elbowing on the road ;—alas ! that the despotic divinity, sober-sided Hymen, should so often prove ungrateful for the services of his laughing purveyor !—that he should so often bang his door against the terrified little god of love, leaving him to fly away self-convicted of the folly of providing subjects for one so thankless !—But that is not our present business.

Lent, the chief time of fast and abstinence among Roman Catholic people, sets in, upon an average, (for it is a “ moveable” period,) towards the end of February. During its continuance, marriage, along with many other savoury indulgences, cannot lawfully be attained; and, as an enforced forbearance of six or seven weeks seems too hard a trial, merely, perhaps, because it is a compulsory probation, a great movement of the middle and lower orders, male and female, takes place some time before ; that is, during the season termed “Shrovetide,” or, as our countrymen and countrywomen call it, “Shroft,” so that the Irish Hymen is, conjointly with his more serious divinityship, the god of pancakes also.

As this great time approaches, the influx into country towns of rural belles, and, as a matter of course, of rural beaux, is very remarkable; the former, with their best beaver-hats (articles of superior fashion), cocked after the smartest taste, or their caps set on with a peculiar air ; their best smiles on their rosy lips; and their witching glances, plainly understood by the opposite files to mean—‘ who. wants a wife?’ Nor do “the boys” repair to this passage of arms unconscious of a motive, or negligent of the proofs of one. The most flaming waistcoats are provided; new corduroy small-clothes, with gilt buttons at the knees (not always used for the purpose they have been put in, for they are left to swing open, when button and button-hole should mutually embrace, agitating theirlong silk strings) ; well-fitting stockings ; and—the brogues kicked off on the occasion— small-pointed shoes, all showing, to the greatest advantage, the excellent leg and instep: while the hat set at one side, a roguish leer, an ostentatious display of person, whether “rollicking,” or snug, or well-rigged to suit all tastes, are distinguishing signs to the fair critics, that “ such, or such, have a notion of taking on” at the coming Shroft. Former courtships are renewed ; new ones are entered upon; and the opponents in this pleasant encounter may be seen dividing in pairs, with their respective adherents, towards the public-house ; the girls at first demurring, through well-acted timidity ; yet, after much coaxing and pressing, kindly yielding to ‘“‘take the treat ;” alive as any of their betters to the great axiom of women’s nature, that a conquest at a first attack is but indifferently valued.

If the old folk happen to be stingy, the girls who can do it, now embezzle “ mescauns o’ butther,” ‘‘ mauleens o’ corn,” ‘“hanfuls 0’ praties,” or “ glaums o’ wool,” to be disposed of, . under the rose, at the market ; and with the proceeds of this contraband trade, throng to the ribbon shops, where, if two or three from the same neighbourhood, and upon the same allimportant errand, happen to meet, they may be observed, to the seller's cost, pondering, and consulting, and hesitating, and whispering, before a choice of the most destructive colour can possibly be made out of the variety before them ; or, when things have come to a serious pass, the mother, with two or three old cronies, will accompany them, with an ample purse, to conduct more important bargains ; and then money flies liberally, while many little stratagems are used that the sagacious shopman or shopwoman may not guess (what is easily conjectured) the exact purpose for which such unusual finery is procured: a secret the old dame tries to keep to herself, lest advantage should be taken of the admission in the price of the article, and which “the young thing” hides “because it is mannerly to do go.”

Now is the time when the fair ones, who have previously been courted and flattered to little purpose, are expected to “lave off their thricks an’ their quare ways,” and give the long-expected, and, indeed, long-intended, yes, or sha asthore, as the case may be ;—mentally adding after all their little coquetry (as one among them acknowledged to us, on a recent occasion), “thankee for axin’.” Now is the time when fathers, who have sons or daughters to settle in the world, meet in the little village public-house, and, “ Darby, that’s a clane, comely colleen belongin’ to you,” commences ~ many a treaty which is discussed over a pot of ale. And then comes the assembling of all-parties the next market-day, when the money matters are talked over “to the very farthen, an’ to the farthen itself,” betwixt the old men, with as much. cool calculation as distinguishes the diplomacy of their superiors on similar occasions ; while the mothers, taking in hand another branch of the subject, discourse of the natural or acquired, the mental or personal perfections of the young couple. By one, the expert housewifery of the girl is set forth 3; “her nate, cool hands for makin’ the butther ;” the pieces of linen (to go in as part of her “ portion”) brought by her to “the blache” last season, and wrought with a thrifty foresight to the wants of a future establishment, whether we consider sheeting, or articles of male and female wear ; in fact, all the young woman’s useful accomplishments and habits are stated, and, as the tale comes from a mother’s tongue, it cannot much be wondered at if, now and then, there occur a little exaggeration. And the other old dame displays, perhaps, with some slight decorations also, her son’s excellences ; his industry, late and early ; his knowledge of his business, in all its branches of ploughing, sowing, reaping, mowing, stacking, threshing ; his good nature and good humour ; his spirit ; his manly feats at running, or leaping, or hurling, or wrestling ; nay, the eulogist may, with sparkling eyes, even hint his skill at cudgel or alpeen ; and, in what they call “a pig’s whisper” —(that is, a confidential tone, meant, as it were, for one particular ear, while all around can hear it, if they will)—a few anecdotes of his prowess and conquests in this way may be thrown into the scale, as a make-weight.

All this while, placed in the back-ground, in a shady corner, where distance and twilight hide the blushes of the one, and give secrecy to the speech or acts of the other, the young couple, the conscious subjects of this pro and con, sit—if they like each other—“ coortin’ away, for the bare life;’ or if on the contrary, the match happen to be one of mere speculation and convenience, got up by the old people, and indifferent to them, they sit, at a shy distance, on the same form, staring at each other, and half resolving to upset every arrangement, and in recollection of a “boy or a git] of their own,” have everything their own way.

Many there are—(“ alas poor country !”)—and those even the greater number, whose matrimonial treaties are arranged without any such debating; whose pecuniary resources are almost confined to the soggarth’s fee; who will be necessitated to move, by many pitiful stories, his Christian compassion, or will even invent some melancholy untruth, that he may be induced to perform the ceremony at an under price, and leave them a shilling towards the stock for the scanty wedding-feast. The rest they trust to Providence; and, sooner than permit the long Lent to pass over their heads in celibacy, offer their hands for the manacle with as jovial a grace, as much precipitancy, and as good a hope of passing a pleasant honeymoon, as if they were certain of two days’ victuals after the bridal night, or as if their progeny were to be the heritors of abundance, kindliness, and comfort, not of poverty, neglect, and wretchedness,

Nor is it the rural atmosphere alone that propels to matrimonial movements, as the Shrovetide comes on. The self-same inspiration pervades the town air. In our considerable town, at least, Shrovetide is generally understood to mean the season for maids to become wives, and bachelors to change their condition.

There are, we believe, in all such communities as we speak of, regular visiting folks, of both sexes, necessary to the comforts of the stay-at-home part of the population, as carriers of news, true or false, and circulators of the petty tattle so acceptable to the ever-craving appetite of curiosity, and who are, therefore, welcome visitors almost wherever they go. Among this class of persons, elderly maids and bacherlors, possessing small annuities, just sufficient to keep up a decent appearance out of doors, yet too scanty for their comfort at home, form a considerable portion. To them, a cup of tea in the evening, with, if they be of the male sex, the addition of a glass of the good beverage, whiskey punch, is very acceptable ; hence, finding it their interests to render themselves agreeable, they take good care to come furnished to the fire-sides of their friends with ready answers to the questions most suitable to every season ; and none of them will deny that as pancakeday or Shrove Tuesday draws near, they find it peculiarly necessary to keep an eye on the motions, and to dive into the resolves of the marriageable persons around them, in order to appear fully prepared for the universal query—‘ what weddings are going on?” Indeed, and by-the-way, the very kind of individuals we mean sometimes supply, in their own persons, and apart from their information about others, more direct evidence of the benign influence of this period. From among their throng, even maids of long standing and bachelors of ancient growth, step out with a livelier grace ; wax unusually brisk and mettlesome ; sport new “fronts,” selected for the occassion, or new wigs, of the recollected colour of their locks, what time the mother’s care had smoothed and polished the boy’s ringlets ; and look about them, and trot in the direction where fellow-feelings prevail, full of pleasing ideas, and the half-forgotten music of early life again tingling in their ears ;—and we are happy to add that, even in their regard, and always considering them bound to choose among themselves, the season does not invariably prove inauspicious.

Staid citizens, fathers, and uncles, who have previously taken an account of stock, ascertained the tot of the ledger balance-sheet, and withdrawn their daughter's or their niece’s portion from the perils of business, begin to cast a cautious eye around ; make underhand inquiries as to how their young male neighbours stand in the world, and become close spies on their actions ; and when a youth of substance and character is at last selected, their cordial recognition of him as he passes their door, or meets them in the street, or in a friend’s house, is easily interpreted into, “ Son-in-law how do you do?”

Youngish men, who have made improvable establishments, and to whom the entry, “Stock, Dr. Cash,” would be a pleasing item, divest their features of their very sober cast, brighten them up with a holiday air, employ the most esteemed fashioners, assume the cavalier, seat themselves on horseback with as much grace as is possible, or, if not with grace, at least with an affected recklessness of the dreaded results of their new situation ; put “ money in both pockets,” and set off to scour the adjacent country in search of wives— at a gallop, if they can attempt it with safety, or even a little daring; velocity of movement being esteemed as most in character with the gaiety of wooers. But these doughty knights-errant will scarce ever be seen entering with their “God save all here,” where the old chest or the old cow’s hornis known to be empty. With them, love is ‘““no welcome customer,” unless he come into the shop witha money bag on his back, prepared to fling it on the counter, or pour it mto “the till ;’ so laden, that they are happy to see him ; emptyhanded he may stay outside ; and then any young woman, no great matter whom, burthened in a similar way, will be as well received without him as with him.

Novelty is a prevailing charm for human eyes ; and young maidens who have stepped into a town on market-days, to delight themselves with the brilliancy of its shops and its streets, sometimes prefer, from the novelty of the change, a townsman to a mere rustic sweetheart ; and when sucha one, as has last been described, comes, careering at a gallant pace towards the farm-house, in the proper season for such a visit, they seldom fail to guess the motive of his journey. The fair and conscious object of attraction will, on this occasion, be posted, covertly, at a casement; behind her the vanithee ; still more behind, the nurse; and, over the shoulders of all, elevated on a three legged stool, perhaps the serving wench: each eager to witness the dashing advance

PETER OF THE CASTLE. if of the candidate for favour, and to applaud or criticise, as the case may be.

If fair young city virgins now observe significant movements in the visits of father and mother out of doors, or become aware, without seeming to be at all aware, that unusual consultations are going forward, they hope and trust, and pray, morning and evening, that from somebody of whom they dreamt the last All-hallow-Eve, overtures have been received. Now serving-maids quit one state of servitude, only to enter suddenly upon another, not so easily to be got rid of at a “warning ;’ now apprentices, committing a breach of that part of their indentures which binds them not to enter the matrimonial state till the expiration of their long seven years, steal out of an evening, get married, steal back behind the counter next morning, and out again at a window when “ the shop is shut.” Desperate run-away matches are daily heard of, precipitated by the not-always-successful endeavours to marry young people against their inclinations, or else by the impatient love that despairs of parental forbearance, and shrinks at the long period of privation between “ Ash Wednesday ” and Easter Sunday.

As story-tellers, we must be supposed rather closely to regard human nature, and motives to action, in order to understand the value of occurrences around us ; certainly we have learned to divine, almost to a nicety, the state of thought indulged, as Shrovetide comes on, by all our acquaintance, and even by those with whom we are only casually civil or conversant. The never-failing, though, perhaps, newly assumed smile, so soft, so constant, so bewitching, of a fair friend ; the manner so determinedly obliging; these symptoms—particularly if an emendation upon usual habits—we take as proof that first preliminaries are arranged for the grand step ; that she has learned as much from her parents, and that she is content to venture upon a new character, before Shrove-Tuesday, if she can be pleased with an offer.

When, with a short hurried step, indicating a desire to reach a given point as soon as possible ; with downcast eye-lids, sometimes allowing to escape around, an unquiet, timid glance, expressive of a certain sensitive fearfulness that people are looking at her, and speaking of her, as she goes along; when, showing these symptoms, a pretty, modest, flurried little creature crosses our calm observant path, we at once conclude, and half sigh with, we believe, akind of reflected pleasure at the conclusion, that she has yielded, very lately, a blushing promise to make her chosen youth all the happier of this happy time.

If we see nothing singular, nothing unusual in a young woman ; nothing but the decently-measured tread ; nothing but the every-day port, or only the old smile, common to a handsome face ; then we judge that matters are not in train that season.

Weare quick to discern the sneer, which, more positively than ever, agitates the features of often-disappointed spinsters, as they descant on the prospects and pretensions of some who are about to attain the envied rank of matronly consideration : and just as quick to note the proud ostentatious bearing of others of the same standing, who have been successful in the grand object of the day, and are at length on the eve of being of consequence in the world, notwithstanding the long forebodings of their friends, and the terrible apprehensions of their own bosoms.

We have learned, on the other hand, to judge by the more than usual attention to personal appearance of an industrious youngster, by his studied suavity, and by his skilful disguise of whatever of the unamiable we have previously noted in his character, that he is ‘on the look-out,” and therefore “putting his best leg foremost.” From the junction of bustle and briskness, in another, of hurry and good-humour, of an important manner, and yet a growing disposition to say smart things, we set down that he is preparing his affairs for the spectacled criticism of some cool examiner who has a fair charge to dispose of: or, he is taking measures, perhaps, to leave things in such a train that, with propriety, he may be absent for a space, after the ceremony, supposing him of sufficient consequence to aim at throwing off the good old custom of wedding-cheer and bridal dance, and, conformably with the fashionable scale, take a scamper for the honey-moon to the metropolis, where he can link gentility and pleasure with business, and (his wife's portion in his pocket-book,) purchase a fresh stock of goods, to be home a day or two before he returns to the shop.