The priest now returned to us, and was followed by the multitude, who crowded round this venerable and adored pastor: some to obtain his benediction for themselves, others his prayers for their friends, and all his advice or notice: while Glorvina, whom they had not at first perceived, stood like an idol in the midst of them, receiving that adoration which the admiring gaze of some, and the adulatory exclamations of others, offered to her virtues and her charms. While those personally known to her she addressed with her usually winning sweetness in their native language, I am sure that there was not an individual among this crowd of ardent and affectionate people, that would not risk their lives “to avenge a look that threatened her with danger.”
Our horses now coming up to the gate of the cemetry, we insisted on walking back as far as the drawbridge with Glorvina. When we reached it, the priest saluted her cheek with paternal freedom, and gave her his blessing, while I was put off with an offer of the hand; but when, for the first time, I felt its soft clasp return the pressure of mine, I no longer envied the priest his cold salute; for oh! cold is every enjoyment which is unreciprocated. Reverberated bliss alone can touch the heart.
When we had parted with Glorvina, and caught a last view of her receding figure, we mounted our horses, and proceeded a considerable way in silence. The morning though fine was gloomy; and though the sun was scarcely an hour high, we were met by innumerable groups of peasantry of both sexes, laden with their implements of husbandry, and already beginning the labours of the day. I expressed my surprise at observing almost as many women as men working in the fields and bogs. “Yes,” said the priest, “toil is here shared in common between the sexes, the women as well as the men cut the turf, plant the potatoes, and even assist to cultivate the land; both rise with the sun to their daily labour; but his repose brings not theirs; for, after having worked all day for a very trivial remuneration, (as nothing here is rated lower than human labour,) they endeavour to snatch a beam from retreating twilight, by which they labour in that little spot of ground, which is probably the sole support of a numerous family.”
“And yet,” said I, “idleness is the chief vice laid to the account of your peasantry.”
“It is certain,” returned he, “that there is not, generally speaking, that active spirit of industry among the inferior orders here, which distinguishes the same rank in England. But neither have they the same encouragement to awaken their exertions. ‘The laziness of the Irish,’ says Sir William Petty, ‘seems rather to proceed from want of employment and encouragement to work, than the constitution of their bodies.’ An intelligent and liberal countryman of yours, Mr. Young, the celebrated traveller, is persuaded that, circumstances considered, the Irish do not in reality deserve the character of indolence; and relates a very extraordinary proof of their great industry and exertion in their method of procuring lime for manure, which the mountaineers bring on the backs of their little horses many miles distance, to the foot of the steepest acclivities, and from thence to the summit on their own shoulders while they pay a considerable rent for liberty to cultivate a barren, waste, and rigid soil. In short, there is not in creation a more laborious animal than an Irish peasant, with less stimulus to exertion, or less reward to crown his toil. He is indeed, in many instances, the mere creature of the soil, and works independent of that hope which is the best stimulus to every human effort, the hope of reward. And yet it is not rare to find among these oft misguided beings, some who really believe themselves the hereditary proprietors of the soil they cultivate.”
“But surely,” said I, “the most ignorant among them must be well aware that all could not have been proprietors.”
“The fact is,” said the priest, “the followers of many a great family having accidentally adopted the name of their chiefs, that name has descended to their progeny, who now associate to the name an erroneous claim on the confiscated property of those to whom their progenitors were but vassals or dependants. And this false, but strong rooted opinion, co-operating with their naturally active and impetuous characters, renders them alive to every enterprise, and open to the impositions of the artful or ambitious. But a brave, though misguided people, are not to be dragooned out of a train of ancient prejudices, nurtured by fancied interest and real ambition, and confirmed by ignorance, which those who deride have made no effort to dispel. It is not by physical force, but moral influence, the illusion is to be dissolved. The darkness of ignorance must be dissipated before the light of truth can be admitted; and though an Irishman may be argued out of an error, it has been long proved he will never be forced. His understanding may be convinced, but his spirit will never be subdued. He may culminate to the meridian of loyalty * or truth by the influence of kindness, or the convictions of reason, but he will never be forced towards the one, nor oppressed into the other by the lash of power, or ‘the insolence of office.’
* Speaking of the people of Ireland, Lord Minto thus
expresses himself: “In these (the Irish) we have witnessed
exertions of courage, activity, perseverance, and spirit, as
well as fidelity and honour in fulfilling the engagements of
their connexion with us, and the Protection and defence of
their own country, which challenges the thanks of Great
Britain, and the approbation of the world.”
“This has been strongly evinced by the attachment of the Irish to the House of Stuart, by whom they have always been so cruelly, so ungratefully treated. For what the coercive measures of four hundred years could not effect, the accession of one prince to the throne accomplished. Until that period, the unconquered Irish, harassing and harassed, struggled for that liberty which they at intervals obtained, but never were permitted to enjoy. Yet the moment a prince of the royal line of Milesius placed the British diadem on his brow, the sword of resistance was sheathed, and those principles which force could not vanquish, yielded to the mild empire of national and hereditary affection: the Irish of English origin from natural tenderness, and those of the true old stock, from the conviction that they were then governed by a Prince of their own blood. Nor is it now unknown to them, that in the veins of his present majesty, and his ancestors, from James the First, flows the royal blood of the three kingdoms united.”
“I am delighted to find,” said I, “the lower ranks of a country, to which I am now so endeared, thus rescued from the obloquy thrown on them by prejudiced illiberality; and from what you have said, and indeed from what I have myself observed, I am convinced, that were endeavours for their improvement more strictly promoted, and their respective duties obviously made clear, their true interests fully represented by reason and common sense, and their unhappy situations ameliorated by justice and humanity, they would be a people as happy, contented and prosperous, in a political sense, as in a natural and a national one. They are brave, hospitable, liberal and ingenious.”