O'Grady

“ Nor was the renowned O'Grady without his hobby, too. While the various members of his family were thwarting each other, his master-mischief was thwarting them all; like some wicked giant looking down on a squabble of dwarfs, and ending the fight by kicking them all right and left. Then he had his troop of pets too—idle blackguards who were slingeing [13] about the place eternally, keeping up a sort of "cordon sanitaire," to prevent the pestilential presence of a bailiff, which is so catching, and turns to jail fever, a disease which had been fatal in the family. ”

“ The fifer, in revenge, declared he was only humbugging the Squire.
Hereupon O'Grady, seizing the unfortunate trumpeter, gave him a more sublime kicking than ever fell to the lot of even piper or fiddler, whose pay [21] is proverbially oftener in that article than the coin of the realm.
Having tired himself, and considerably rubbed down the toe of his boot with his gentlemanly exercise, O'Grady dragged the trumpeter to the ditch, and rolled him into it, there to cool the fever which burned in his seat of honour. ”

“ At last the same herculean fellow who gave O'Grady the fierce answer about the blunderbuss tenure he enjoyed, came up to vote, and fairly bothered the querist with his ready replies, which, purposely, were never to the purpose. The examination ran nearly thus:—
"You're a Roman Catholic?"
"Am I?" said the fellow.
"Are you not?" demanded the agent.
"You say I am," was the answer.
"Come, sir, answer—What's your religion?" ”

“ As I continued, I saw O'Grady*s name, and to my astonishment found the following:—
'Lady Charlotte came back from the duke's ball greatly pleased with a certain Major of dragoons, who, among his other excellent qualities, turns out to be a friend of yours. This estimable person, whose name is O'Grady, has done much to dissipate her ladyship's prejudices regarding Irishmen—the repose of his manner, and the quiet, unassuming, well-bred tone of his address being all so opposed to her preconceived notions of his countrymen. ”

“ My friend O'Grady, however, seemed but little of my opinion; for, like the master-spirit of the scene, he seemed to direct every movement and dictate every change—no touch of fatigue, no semblance of exhaustion about him. On the contrary, as the hour grew later, and the pale grey of morning began to mingle with the glare of wax-lights, the vigour of his performance only increased, and several new steps were displayed, which, like a prudent general, he seemed to have kept in reserve for the end of the engagement. And what a sad thing is a ball as it draws towards the close! ”

“ At a distance he was little, commonplace, fat. Just a pink-cheeked business-man all ready to declare a dividend. Until you looked in his eyes. Then you saw romance, and a longing for ports where the big ships never touch.”
I knew then that O'Grady had read the message of a kindred soul in the eyes of Aloysius McMan. My friend was himself a follower of strange gods along the shores of picture-book lands—a lover of the world's byways, a shunner of its highways. We dropped down under a convenient palm and looked out towards the waves where they whispered their unnecessary admonition to the sand. ”

“ O'Grady. "I don't exactly know how you did treat her, but if you pursue the Emperor I'll insist on finding out."
"I won't pursue him," said Lord Manton. "I promise not to. As a matter of fact, I don't want to pursue him in the least. He paid his rent in advance."
"Patsy Devlin," said Dr. O'Grady, "was sheltered, lodged, and fed by the Emperor, and has no complaint whatever to make. Have you, Patsy?"
"I have not. Only for him, they'd have had me hanged for murdering you, doctor; which is what I wouldn't do, and never thought of." ”

“ Of my mother, too, he sometimes spoke, but never even alluded to Lady Julia; and when once I spoke of her as the protector of Corny, he fidgeted for a second or two, seemed uneasy and uncomfortable, and gave me the impression that he felt sorry to be reduced to accept a favour for his servant, where he himself had been treated with coldness and distance.
Apart from this—and it was a topic we mutually avoided—O'Grady's spirits were as high as ever. Mixing much with the officers of his corps, he was actually beloved by them. ”

“ This was Sam O'Grady, the master of the Duhallow hounds, the god of Owen's idolatry. No better fellow ever lived, and no master of hounds, so good; such at least was the opinion common among Duhallow sportsmen. ”

“ O’Grady was struck by the answer he received. Very few men, in search of a doctor at two o’clock in the morning, are so particular about grammar as to say, “It is I!” And the words were spoken in a solemn tone which seemed quite congruous with the measured and stately manner in which the door had been hammered. Dr. O’Grady put on a pair of trousers and a shirt, ran downstairs and opened the door. Mr. Red stood rigid like a soldier at attention on the doorstep. In the middle of the road was the motor car in which the English servant used to drive into Clonmore to do his marketing. ”

“ O'Grady swallowed a curse when he remembered he was a clergyman. "The enemy's camp—not his principles! Oh, Bermingham, Bermingham,—Brimmagem, Brummagem, Sheffield, Wolverhampton—Murther! Any one else? Was Durfy there?"
"No," said Furlong; "but there was an odd pe'son, whose name wymes to his—as you seem fond of wymes, Mister O'Gwady."
"What!" said O'Grady, quickly, and fixing his eyes on Furlong; "Murphy?"
"Yes. Miste' Muffy."
O'Grady gave a more doleful whistle than before, and banging the spoon faster than ever, exclaimed again, "Murphy!—then I'll tell you what it is ”

“ When I close my eyes, and brood in memory over the books which most profoundly affected me, I find none excited my imagination more than Standish O’Grady’s epical narrative of Cuculain. Whitman said of his Leaves of Grass, “Camerado, this is no book: who touches this touches a man” and O’Grady might have boasted of his Bardic History of Ireland, written with his whole being, that there was more than a man in it, there was the soul of a people, its noblest and most exalted life symbolised in the story of one heroic character. ”

“ I must have broiled bones and hot punch!"
The servant entered, and O'Grady swore at him for not coming sooner, though he was really expeditious in his answer to the bell.
"Confound your lazy bones; you're never in time."
"'Deed, sir; I came the minit I heerd the bell."
"Hold your tongue!—who bid you talk? The devil fly away with you!—and you'll never go fast till he does. Make haste now—go to the cook——"
"Yes, sir." ”

“ The show of hands was declared to be in favour of Egan, whereupon a poll was demanded on the part of Scatterbrain, after which every one began to move from the court-house.
O'Grady, in very ill-humour, was endeavouring to shove past a herculean fellow, rather ragged and very saucy, who did not seem inclined to give place to the savage elbowing of the Squire.
"What brings such a ragged rascal as you here?" said O'Grady, brutally; "you're not an elector." ”

“ We might say of Red Hugh and indeed of all O’Grady’s heroes that they are the spiritual progeny of Cuculain. From Red Hugh down to the boys who have such enchanting adventures in “Lost on Du Corrig” and “The Chain of Gold” they have all a natural and hardy purity of mind, a beautiful simplicity of character, and one can imagine them all in an hour of need, being faithful to any trust like the darling of the Red Branch. These shining lads never grew up amid books. They are as much children of nature as the Lucy of Wordsworth’s poetry. ”

“ She also brought them a French book, and, with it to assist him, Paul set to work to teach O’Grady French. Rosalie, when she came in, corrected his pronunciation, which was not always correct. O’Grady learnt very rapidly, and he declared that he thought it was a pity that they should not remain where they were till he was perfect.
“You see, Gerrard,” he observed, “we are living here free of expense. It’s very pleasant, and we are not idling our time.” ”

“ Perhaps one of these days you will be able to help us; but I shall write again on this subject, and as soon as I can get a photograph of the abbey I will send it.
'Yours very sincerely,
'OLIVER GOGARTY.'
'Now, what will Father O'Grady answer to all this?' he said under his breath as he folded up his letter. 'A worthy soul, an excellent soul, there's no doubt about that.' And he began to feel sorry for Father O'Grady. But his sorrow was suddenly suspended. If he went to London he wouldn't be likely to see her. 'Another change,' he said; 'things are never the same for long. ”

“ O’Grady turned to the breakfast provided for him with an excellent appetite.
“Silly old ass that Emperor is,” he murmured. “I suppose now he’ll go and sit down beside his yellow crocodiles in the dining-room and try to invent some new kind of dynamite. He ought, as a matter of fact, to be in an asylum. Some day he will be if he doesn’t blow himself up first. Anyhow this is a jolly good business for me. If he chooses to pay me four pounds a day for sitting here twiddling my thumbs, I’m quite content. I only hope it will be some time before they think of looking for me at Rosivera. ”

“ At one extremity of the vast hall, upon a raised seat, sat their young king, Concobar Mac Nessa, slender, handsome, and upright. A canopy of bronze, round as the bent sling of the Sun-god, the long-handed, far-shooting son of Ethlend, [Footnote: This was the god Lu Lam-fada, i.e., Lu, the Long-Handed. The rainbow was his sling. Remember that the rod sling, familiar enough now to Irish boys, was the weapon of the ancient Irish, and not the sling which is made of two cords.] encircled his head. At his right hand lay a staff of silver. ”

“ O’Grady showed the true greatness of his mind. A weaker man, daunted by the difficulty of arranging “God Save the King” in such a way as to suit all tastes, might have given up the attempt to provide a musical welcome for the Lord-Lieutenant. A man of narrow obstinacy, the kind of man who is really like a pig, would have persevered, in spite of Constable Moriarty’s warning, in trying to teach his variations to the town band. ”

“ That the Irish kings and heroes should succeed one another, surrounded by a blaze of bardic light, in which both themselves and all those who were contemporaneous with them are seen clearly and distinctly, was natural in a country where in each little realm or sub-kingdom the ard-ollav was equal in dignity to the king, which is proved by the equivalence of their cries. The dawn of English history is in the seventh century—a late dawn, dark and sombre, without a ray of cheerful sunshine ”

“ No, faith, they caught me once; but then the fact was, a protest and an invitation were both served on me together. I couldn't accept one, so I did the other.”
“Well, I must confess,” said O'Grady, in a firm, resolute tone, “there may be many more fashionable people than our friends; but I, for one, scruple not to say I have received many kindnesses from them, and am deeply, sincerely grateful.”
“As far as doing a bit of paper now and then, when one is hard up,” said Lord Dudley, “why, perhaps, I'm somewhat of your mind ”

“ What you then look for is clearly impossible; make a clean breast of it, and begin.'
This being a question of order, a silence was soon established, when, what was my horror to find that Phil O'Grady began the whole narrative of my mother's letter on the subject of the Rooneys! Not limiting himself, however, to the meagre document in question, but colouring the story with all the force of his imagination, he displayed to the brethren the ludicrous extremes of character personated by the London fine lady and the Dublin attorney's wife. ”

“ When you get to a man in the case, They're like as a row of pins— For the Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady Are sisters under their skins! ”

“ Nearly all his poems refer to events of his own time, and are of a high order of literary merit. Large fragments have been printed and translated by Standish Hayes O'Grady in the ‘Catalogue of Irish Manuscripts’ in the British Museum, and some small extracts by John O'Daly in his edition of Ormonde's ‘Panygyric.’ Over twenty of his poems are extant, and their approximate chronological order is: (1) of fifty stanzas, about 1652, ‘Crecht do dhail me am arrthach galair’ (‘A wound that has reduced me to the condition of a vessel of disease’) , on the laying down of their arms by the Irish. ”

“ Dr. O’Grady stopped speaking. The Major supposed that he had stopped thinking about Mr. Billing’s curious conduct. The doctor did indeed intend to stop thinking about it. But it is difficult to bridle thought. After walking half a mile in silence Dr. O’Grady spoke again, and his words showed that his mind was still working on the same problem.
“Americans have far too good an opinion of themselves,” he said. “Billing may possibly think he’s playing some kind of trick on us. He may be laughing at us in some way we don’t quite understand.” ”

“ When a man is in advance of his age, a generation unborn when he speaks, is born in due time and finds in him its inspiration. O’Grady may have failed in his appeal to the aristocracy of his own time but he may yet create an aristocracy of character and intellect in Ireland. The political and social writings will remain to uplift and inspire and to remind us that the man who wrote the stories of heroes had a bravery of his own and a wisdom of his own. ”