Willy Reilly by William Carleton

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WILLY REILLY

by William Carleton

Illustrated by M. L. Flanery

CONTENTS:

CHAPTER
I.--An Adventure and an Escape

II.--The Cooleen Bawn

III.--Daring Attempt of the Red Rapparee
--Mysterious Disappearance of His
Gang--The Avowal

IV.--A Sapient Project for our Hero's
Conversion--His Rival makes his
Appearance, and its Consequences

V.--The Plot and the Victims

VI.--The Warning--an Escape

VII.--An Accidental Incident favorable to
Reilly, and a Curious Conversation

VIII.--A Conflagration--An Escape--And
an Adventure

IX.--Reilly's Adventure Continued
--A Prospect of By-gone Times--Reilly
gets a Bed in a Curious Establishment

X.--Scenes that took place in the Mountain
Cave

XI.--The Squire's Dinner and his Guests

XII.--Sir Robert Meets a Brother Sportsman
--Draws his Nets, but Catches Nothing

XIII.--Reilly is Taken, but connived at by
the Sheriff--the Mountain Mass

XIV.--Reilly takes Service with Squire
Folliard

XV.--More of Whitecraft's Plots and Pranks

XVI.--Sir Robert ingeniously extricates
Himself out of a great Difficulty

XVII.--Awful Conduct of Squire Folliard
--Fergus Keilly begins to Contravene
the Red Rapparee

XVIII.--Something not very Pleasant for all
Parties

XIX.--Reilly's Disguise Penetrated
--He Escapes--Fergus Reilly is on the Trail
of the Rapparee--Sir Robert begins
to feel Confident of Success

XX.--The Rapparee Secured--Reilly and
the Cooleen Bawn Escape, and are Captured

XXI.--Sir Robert Accepts of an Invitation

XXII.--The Squire Comforts Whitecraft in
his Affliction

XXIII.--The Squire becomes Theological and
a Proselytizer, but signally fails

XXIV.--Preparations--Jury of the Olden Time
--The Scales of Justice

XXV.--Rumor of Cooleen Bawn's Treachery
--How it appears--Reilly stands his Trial
--Conclusion

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

I am agreeably called upon by my bookseller to prepare for a Second
Edition of "Willy Reilly." This is at all times a pleasing call upon an
author; and it is so especially to me, inasmuch as the first Edition
was sold at the fashionable, but unreasonable, price of a guinea and a
half--a price which, in this age of cheap literature, is almost fatal to
the sale of any three-volume novel, no matter what may be its merits.
With respect to "Willy Reilly," it may be necessary to say that I never
wrote any work of the same extent in so short a time, or with so much
haste. Its popularity, however, has been equal to that of any other
of my productions; and the reception which it has experienced from the
ablest public and professional critics of the day has far surpassed my
expectations. I accordingly take this opportunity of thanking them most
sincerely for the favorable verdict which they have generously passed
upon it, as I do for their kindness to my humble efforts for the last
twenty-eight years. Nothing, indeed, can be a greater encouragement to
a literary man, to a novel writer, in fact, than the reflection that he
has an honest and generous tribunal to encounter. If he be a quack or an
impostor, they will at once detect him; but if he exhibit human nature
and truthful character in his pages, it matters not whether he goes to
his bookseller's in a coach, or plods there humbly, and on foot; they
will forget everything but the value and merit of what he places before
them. On this account it is that I reverence and respect them; and
indeed I ought to do so, for I owe them the gratitude of a pretty long
literary life.

Concerning this Edition, I must say something. I have already stated
that it was written rapidly and in a hurry. On reading it over for
correction, I was struck in my cooler moments by many defects in it,
which were, kindly overlooked, or, perhaps, not noticed at all. To
myself, however, who had been brooding over this work for a long time,
they at once became obvious. I have accordingly added an underplot of
affection between Fergus Reilly--mentioned as a distant relative of my
hero--and the _Cooleen Bawn's_ maid, Ellen Connor. In doing so, I have
not disturbed a single incident in the work; and the reader who may have
perused the first Edition, if he should ever--as is not unfrequently the
case--peruse this second one, will certainly wonder how the additions
were made. That, however, is the secret of the author, with which they
have nothing to do but to enjoy the book, if they can enjoy it.

With respect to the O'Reilly name and family, I have consulted my
distinguished' friend--and I am proud to call him so--John O'Donovan,
Esq., LL.D., M.R.I.A., who, with the greatest kindness, placed the
summary of the history of that celebrated family at my disposal. This
learned gentleman is an authority beyond all question. With respect to
Ireland--her language--her old laws--her history--her antiquities--her
archaeology--her topography, and the genealogy of her families, he is
a perfect miracle, as is his distinguished fellow-laborer in the same
field, Eugene Curry. Two such men--and, including Dr. Petrie, three such
men--Ireland never has produced, and never can again--for this simple
reason, that they will have left nothing after them for their successors
to accomplish. To Eugene Curry I am indebted for the principal fact upon
which my novel of the "Tithe Proctor" was written--the able introduction
to which was printed verbatim from a manuscript with which he kindly
furnished me. The following is Dr. O'Donovan's clear and succinct
history of the O'Reilly family from the year 435 until the present time:

"The ancestors of the family of O'Reilly had been celebrated in Irish
history long before the establishment of surnames in Ireland. In the
year 435 their ancestor, Duach Galach, King of Connaught, was baptized
by St. Patrick on the banks of Loch Scola, and they had remained
Christians of the old Irish Church, which appears to have been peculiar
in its mode of tonsure, and of keeping Easter (and, since the twelfth
century, firm adherents to the religion of the Pope, till Dowell
O'Reilly, Esq., the father of the present head of the name, quarrelling
with Father Dowling, of Stradbally, turned Protestant, about the year
1800).

"The ancestor, after whom they took the family name, was Reillagh, who
was chief of his sect, and flourished about the year 981.

"From this period they are traced in the Irish Annals through a
long line of powerful chieftains of East Breifny (County Cavan), who
succeeded each other, according to the law of Tanistry, till the year
1585, when two rival chieftians of the name, Sir John O'Reilly and
Edmund O'Reilly, appeared in Dublin, at the parliament summoned by
Perrot. Previously to this, John O'Reilly, finding his party weak, had
repaired to England, in 1583, to solicit Queen Elizabeth's interest,
and had been kindly received at Court, and invested with the order of
Knighthood, and promised to be made Earl, whereupon he returned home
with letters from the Queen to the Lord Deputy and Council of Ireland,
instructing them to support him in his claims. His uncle, Edmund, of
Kilnacrott, would have succeeded Hugh Connallagh O'Reilly, the father of
Sir John, according to the Irish law of Tanistry, but he was set aside
by Elizabeth's government, and Sir John set up as O'Reilly in his place.
Sir John being settled in the chieftainship of East Breifny, entered
into certain articles of agreement with Sir John Perrot, the Lord
Deputy, and the Council of Ireland, whereby he agreed to surrender the
principality of East Breifny to the Queen, on condition of obtaining it
again from the crown _in capite_ by English tenure, and the same to be
ratified to him and the heirs male of his body. In consequence of this
agreement, and with the intent of abolishing the tanistic succession,
he, on the last day of August, 1590, perfected a deed of feofment,
entailing thereby the seignory of Breifny (O'Reilly) on his eldest son,
Malmore (Myles), surnamed Alainn (the comely), afterwards known as the
Queen's O'Reilly.

"Notwithstanding these transactions, Sir John O'Reilly soon after joined
in the rebellion of Hugh, Earl of Tyrone, and died on the first of June,
1596. After his death the Earl of Tyrone set up his second brother,
Philip, as the O'Reilly, and the government of Elizabeth supported the
claim of Sir John's son, Malmore, the comely, in opposition to Philip,
and Edmund of Kilnacrott. But Malmore, the Queen's O'Reilly, was slain
by Tyrone in the great battle of the Yellow Ford, near Benburb, on the
14th of August, 1528, and the Irish of Ulster agreed to establish Edmund
of Kilnacrott, as the O'Reilly.

"The lineal descendants of Sir John passed into the French service, and
are now totally unknown, and probably extinct. The descendants of Edmund
of Kilnacrott have been far more prolific and more fortunate. His senior
representative is my worthy old friend Myles John O'Reilly, Esq., Heath
House, Emo, Queen's Co., and from him are also descended the O'Reillys
of Thomastown Castle, in the County of Louth, the Counts O'Reilly of
Spain, the O'Reillys of Beltrasna, in Westmeath, and the Reillys of
Scarva House, in the County of Down.

"Edmund of Kilnacrott had a son John who had a son Brian, by Mary,
daughter of the Baron of Dunsany, who had a famous son Malmore, commonly
called Myles the Slasher. This Myles was an able military leader during
the civil wars of 1641, and showed prodigies of valor during the years
1641, 1642, and 1643; but, in 1644, being encamped at Granard, in the
County of Longford, with Lord Castlehaven, who ordered him to proceed
with a chosen detachment of horse to defend the bridge of Finea against
the Scots, then bearing down on the main army with a very superior
force, Myles was slain at the head of his troops, fighting bravely on
the middle of the bridge. Tradition adds, that during this action he
encountered the colonel of the Scots in single combat, who laid open his
cheek with a blow of his sword; but Myles, whose jaws were stronger than
a smith's vice, held fast the Scotchman's sword between his teeth till
he cut him down, but the main body of the Scots pressing upon him, he
was left dead on the bridge.

"This Myles the Slasher was the father of Colonel John O'Reilly, of
Ballymacadd, in the County Meath, who was elected Knight of the Shire
for the County of Cavan, in the parliament held at Dublin on the 7th of
May, 1689. He raised a regiment of dragoons, at his own expense, for the
service of James II., and assisted at the siege of Londonderry in
1689. He had two engagements with Colonel Wolsley, the commander of
the garrison of Belturbet, whom he signally defeated. He fought at the
battles of the Boyne and Aughrim, and was included in the articles of
capitulation of Limerick, whereby he preserved his property, and was
allowed to carry arms.

"Of the eldest son of this Colonel John O'Reilly, who left issue, my
friend Myles J. O'Reilly, Esq., is now the senior representative.

"From Colonel John O'Reilly's youngest son, Thomas O'Reilly, of
Beltrasna, was descended Count Alexander O'Reilly, of Spain, who took
Algiers! immortalized by Byron. This Alexander was born near Oldcastle,
in the County Meath, in the year 1722. He was Generalissimo of his
Catholic Majesty's forces, and Inspector-General of the Infantry, etc.,
etc. In the year 1786 he employed the Chevalier Thomas O'Gorman to
compile for him a history of the House of O'Reilly, for which he paid
O'Gorman the sum of L1,137 10.s., the original receipt for which I have
in my possession.

"Prom this branch of the O'Reilly family was also descended the
illustrious Andrew Count O'Reilly, who died at Vienna in 1832, at the
age of 92. He was General of Cavalry in the Austrian service. This
distinguished man filled in succession all the military grades in the
Austrian service, with the exception of that of Field Marshal, and was
called by Napoleon '_le respectable General O'Reilly_.'

"The eldest son of Myles J. O'Reilly, Esq., is a young gentleman of
great promise and considerable fortune. His rencontre with Lord Clements
(now Earl of Leitrim) has been not long since prominently before the
public, and in a manner which does justice to our old party quarrels!
Both are, however, worthy of their high descent; and it is to be hoped
that they will soon become good friends, as they are boih young, and
remarkable for benevolence and love of fatherland."

As this has been considered by some persons as a historical novel,
although I really never intended it as such, it may be necessary to give
the reader a more distinct notion of the period in which the incidents
recorded in it took place. The period then was about that of 1745, when
Lord Chesterfield was Governor-General of Ireland. This nobleman, though
an infidel, was a bigot, and a decided anti-Catholic; nor do I think
that the temporary relaxation of the penal laws against Catholics was
anything else than an apprehension on the part of England that the
claims of the Pretender might be supported by the Irish Catholics, who
then, so depressed and persecuted, must have naturally felt a strong
interest in having a prince who professed their own religion placed upon
the English throne. Strange as it may appear, however, and be the cause
of it what it may, the Catholics of Ireland, as a people and as a body,
took no part whatever in supporting him. Under Lord Chesterfield's
administration, one of the most shocking and unnatural Acts of
Parliament ever conceived passed into a law. This was the making void
and null all intermarriages between Catholic and Protestant that should
take place after the 1st of May, 1746. Such an Act was a renewal of the
Statute of Kilkenny, and it was a fortunate circumstance to Willy Reilly
and his dear Cooleen Bawn that he had the consolation of having been
transported for seven years. Had her father even given his consent at an
earlier period, the laws of the land would have rendered their marriage
impossible. This cruel law, however, was overlooked; for it need hardly
be said that it was met and spurned not only by human reason, but by
human passion. In truth, the strong and influential of both religions
treated it with contempt, and trampled on it without any dread of the
consequences. By the time of his return from transportation, it was
merely a dead letter, disregarded and scorned by both parties, and was
no obstruction to either the marriage or the happiness of himself and
his dear _Cooleen Bawn_.

I know not that there is any thing else I can add to this preface,
unless the fact that I have heard several other ballads upon the subject
of these celebrated lovers--all of the same tendency, and all in the
highest praise of the beauty and virtues of the fair _Cooleen Bawn_.
Their utter vulgarity, however, precludes them from a place in these
pages. And, by the way, talking of the law which passed under the
administration of Lord Chesterfield against intermarriages, it is not
improbable that the elopement of Reilly and the _Cooleen Bawn_, in
addition to the execution of the man to whom I have given the name of
Sir Robert Whitecraft, may have introduced it in a spirit of reaction,
not only against the consequences of the elopement, but against the
baronet's ignominious death. Thus, in every point from which we can
view it, the fate of this celebrated couple involved not only popular
feeling, but national importance.

I have not been able to trace with any accuracy or satisfaction that
portion or branch of the O'Reilly family to which my hero belonged. The
dreary lapse of time, and his removal from the country, have been the
means of sweeping into oblivion every thing concerning him, with the
exception of his love for Miss Folliard, and its strange consequences.
Even tradition is silent upon that part of the subject, and I fear that
any attempt to throw light upon it must end only in disappointment.
I have reason to believe that the Counsellor Fox, who acted as his
advocate, was never himself raised to the bench; but that that honor was
reserved for his son, who was an active judge a little before the close
of the last century.

W. Carleton.

Dublin, December, 1856.

CHAPTER I.--An Adventure and an Escape.

Spirit of George Prince Regent James, Esq., forgive me this
commencement! *

* I mean no offence whatsoever to this distinguished and
multitudinous writer; but the commencement of this novel really
resembled that of so many of his that I was anxious to avoid the
charge of imitating him.

It was one evening at the close of a September month and a September day
that two equestrians might be observed passing along one of those old
and lonely Irish roads that seemed, from the nature of its construction,
to have been paved by a society of antiquarians, if a person could judge
from its obsolete character, and the difficulty, without risk of neck or
limb, of riding a horse or driving a carriage along it. Ireland, as our
English readers ought to know, has always been a country teeming with
abundance--a happy land, in which want, destitution, sickness, and
famine have never been felt or known, except through the mendacious
misrepresentations of her enemies. The road we speak of was a proof
of this; for it was evident to every observer that, in some season of
superabundant food, the people, not knowing exactly how to dispose of
their shilling loaves, took to paving the common roads with them, rather
than they should be utterly useless. These loaves, in the course
of time, underwent the process of petrifaction, but could not,
nevertheless, be looked upon as wholly lost to the country. A great
number of the Irish, within six of the last preceding years--that is,
from '46 to '52--took a peculiar fancy for them as food, which, we
presume, caused their enemies to say that we then had hard times in
Ireland. Be this as it may, it enabled the sagacious epicures who lived
upon them to retire, in due course, to the delightful retreats of Skull
and Skibbereen,* and similar asylums, there to pass the very short
remainder of their lives in health, ease, and luxury.

* Two poor-houses in the most desolate parts of the County of
Cork, where famine, fever, dysentery, and cholera, rendered more
destructive by the crowded state of the houses and the consequent
want of ventilation, swept away the wretched in-mates to the
amount, if we recollect rightly, of sometimes from fifty to
seventy per diem in the years '45 and '47.

The evening, as we have said, was about the close of September, when the
two equestrians we speak of were proceeding at a pace necessarily slow.
One of them was a bluff, fresh-complexioned man, of about sixty summers;
but although of a healthy look, and a frame that had evidently once
been vigorous, yet he was a good deal stooped, had about him all the
impotence of plethora, and his hair, which fell down his shoulders, was
white as snow. The other, who rode pretty close to him, was much about
his own age, or perhaps a few years older, if one could judge by a face
that gave more undeniable evidences of those furrows and wrinkles which
Time usually leaves behind him. This person did not ride exactly side by
side with the first-mentioned, but a little aback, though not so far
as to prevent the possibility of conversation. At this time it may be
mentioned here that every man that could afford it wore a wig, with the
exception of some of those eccentric individuals that are to be found
in every state and period of society, and who are remarkable for
that peculiar love of singularity which generally constitutes their
character--a small and harmless ambition, easily gratified, and
involving no injury to their fellow-creatures. The second horseman,
therefore, wore a wig, but the other, although he eschewed that
ornament, if it can be called so, was by no means a man of that mild
and harmless character which we have attributed to the eccentric and
unfashionable class of whom we have just spoken. So far from that, he
was a man of an obstinate and violent temper, of strong and unreflecting
prejudices both for good and evil, hot, persevering, and vindictive,
though personally brave, intrepid, and often generous. Like many of his
class, he never troubled his head about religion as a matter that must,
and ought to have been, personally, of the chiefest interest to himself,
but, at the same time, he was looked upon as one of the best and
staunchest Protestants of the day. His loyalty and devotedness to
the throne of England were not only unquestionable, but proverbial
throughout the country; but, at the same time, he regarded no clergyman,
either of his own or any other creed, as a man whose intimacy was worth
preserving, unless he was able to take off his three or four bottles
of claret after dinner. In fact, not to keep our readers longer in
suspense, the relation which he and his companion bore to each other was
that of master and servant.

The hour was now a little past twilight, and the western sky presented
an unusual, if not an ominous, appearance. A sharp and melancholy breeze
was abroad, and the sun, which had set among a mass of red clouds, half
placid, and half angry in appearance, had for some brief space gone
down. Over from the north, however, glided by imperceptible degrees a
long black bar, right across the place of his disappearance, and nothing
could be more striking than the wild and unnatural contrast between the
dying crimson of the west and this fearful mass of impenetrable darkness
that came over it. As yet there was no moon, and the portion of light
or rather "darkness visible" that feebly appeared on the sky and
the landscape, was singularly sombre and impressive, if not actually
appalling. The scene about them was wild and desolate in the extreme;
and as the faint outlines of the bleak and barren moors appeared in the
dim and melancholy distance, the feelings they inspired were those of
discomfort and depression. On each side of them were a variety of lonely
lakes, abrupt precipices, and extensive marshes; and as our travellers
went along, the hum of the snipe, the feeble but mournful cry of the
plover, and the wilder and more piercing whistle of the curlew, still
deepened the melancholy dreariness of their situation, and added to
their anxiety to press on towards the place of their destination.

"This is a very lonely spot, your honor," said his servant, whose name
was Andrew, or, as he was more familiarly called, Andy Cummiskey.

"Yes, but it's the safer, Andy," replied his master. "There is not a
human habitation within miles of us."

"It doesn't follow, sir, that this place, above all others in the
neighborhood, is not, especially at this hour, without some persons
about it. You know I'm no coward, sir."

"What, you scoundrel! and do you mean to hint that I'm one?"

"Not at all, sir; but you see the truth is, that, this being the very
hour for duck and wild-fowl shootin', it's hard to say where or when a
fellow might start up, and mistake me for a wild duck, and your honor
for a curlew or a bittern."

He had no sooner spoken than the breeze started, as it were, into more
vigorous life, and ere the space of many minutes a dark impenetrable
mist or fog was borne over from the solitary hills across the dreary
level of country through which they passed, and they felt themselves
suddenly chilled, whilst a darkness, almost palpable, nearly concealed
them from each other. Now the roads which we have described, being
almost without exception in remote and unfrequented parts of the
country, are for the most part covered over with a thick sole of close
grass, unless where a narrow strip in the centre shows that a pathway is
kept worn, and distinctly marked by the tread of foot-passengers. Under
all these circumstances, then, our readers need not feel surprised
that, owing at once to the impenetrable obscurity around them, and the
noiseless nature of the antique and grass-covered pavement over which
they went, scarcely a distance of two hundred yards had been gained when
they found, to their dismay,' that they had lost their path, and were
in one of the wild and heathy stretches of unbounded moor by which they
were surrounded.

"We have lost our way, Andy," observed his master. "We've got off that
damned old path; what's to be done? where are you?"

"I'm here, sir," replied his man; "but as for what's to be done, it
would take Mayo Mullen, that sees the fairies and tells fortunes, to
tell us that. For heaven's sake, stay where you are, sir, till I get up
to you, for if we part from one another, we're both lost. Where are you,
sir?"

"Curse you, sirra," replied his master angrily, "is this either a time
or place to jest in? A man that would make a jest in such a situation as
this would dance on his father's tombstone."

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