“Ce n’était pas la peine,Non, pas la peine assurément,De changer de gouvernement,”
“Ce n’était pas la peine,Non, pas la peine assurément,De changer de gouvernement,”
“Ce n’était pas la peine,Non, pas la peine assurément,De changer de gouvernement,”
“Ce n’était pas la peine,
Non, pas la peine assurément,
De changer de gouvernement,”
says worthy Madame Angot, who was certainly no fool.
Whilst making these reflectionsin petto, I took leave of his lordship, who is more perfect than good King Henry himself, for, according to the old song, he had only three accomplishments, whilst theFreeman’s Journalunhesitatingly attributes four to Mr. Sullivan, since in the article I alluded to just now his position as a “diver” is established, and he is also called the “poet,” “patriot,” and “statesman” several times. He looks a thoroughly honest man, and yet the information that he gave has not explained Home Rule to me.
The remainder of my day was spent in several other calls, which I will mention in their proper place. They gave me an opportunity of exploring the city, which seems immense. In reality it has 249,000 inhabitants. The streets are superb and relatively clean; there are several fine monuments, and one or two charming parks; but the city is spoilt by the miserable expression worn by every one I meet. When I ended my conversations with the chiefs of the Land League, I felt almost converted to English doctrines; but the sight of these miserable faces drew me back to the Land League. It is really impossible to leave things as they are. When,during the day, I saw people who had evidently neither breakfasted that morning nor dined the day before, and who had absolutely no reason for supposing that they would be more fortunate to-morrow, it seemed incredible, and I could not help remembering the contemptuous air which Englishmen assume when they allude to what passes in view on the Continent.
Mr. Gladstone’s first political action was a letter in which he denounced King Ferdinand of Naples to all Europe. This document said that he deserved to lose his crown because he did not know how to govern his people. I do not see that Mr. Gladstone has succeeded much better. It is not enough to blame others; one must do better oneself. I have seen all the worst parts of Naples; I have seen theghettoat Rome; both are, or rather were, charming localities if we compare them to a part of Dublin that I passed through to-day, called the “Liberties.” The only liberty that seems left to the inhabitants is the liberty of remaining unwashed and of dying by starvation. This district was peopled by a colony of French Huguenots, who introduced the poplin industry, which has now almost disappeared, but which at one time employed four thousand workmen. If these unfortunate people whom I saw this morning are really the descendants of our fellow-countrymen, I can only advise them to try a second emigration. I quite understand that the results of the first may not encourage them to attempt a second, but they have nothing to lose by a change now.
Here we see the great misfortune of this country. No industry that has been established here has been able to last: there is neither coal nor iron. How can they compete with England under these circumstances?
When I say that all industries have collapsed I am mistaken. One of them is a great success. It belongs to Mr. Guinness, a brewer, whose establishment now occupies nearly one district in the west of the city, on the banks of the river, with which it communicates by means of a tunnel made under the quay, which serves for the delivery of the barrels of beer on to the barges anchored in the muddy bed of the Liffey.
What an illusion the Liffey is! From the treacherous words of the Irish poets I had expected to find a superb river. I only saw a filthy ditch.
Mr. Guinness’s industry only prospers because everything that these unfortunate people earn is spent in drink. The Catholic priests, in spite of all their influence, cannot eradicate the vice of drunkenness, which is so deeply rooted in all northern populations. To-day, whilst passing through a fairly important street, I noticed a house withTemperance Hallpainted in large letters above the door. In the window were hanging publications and pictures antagonistic to insobriety. But on the steps lay an old woman who had fallen there quite tipsy. Her grey hair fell over her stupefied face. One could see her skeleton legs through the holes in her dress. A younger woman, probably her daughter, a little more sober, but still scarcely able to stand, tried to persuade her to continue on her way. The old woman would not listen, but rolled helplessly on the pavement. At last the woman staggered off. What an eloquent commentary upon the sermons placed in the shop-window!
Two election meetings are announced for to-day. Mr. Gray is to speak at the first, which will be held in the city: but as I had told him that I should bedelighted to see an election where a little noise was made, he advised me not to attend his, but to go instead to the one that would be held in the Town Hall at Rathmines, a large borough in the outskirts of Dublin, where they expect rather a tumult. Yesterday there was a very stormy meeting at the University, which returns two members. The Nationalist candidate, who, it is admitted, has not the shadow of a chance, was very badly treated by the students. They threw at him a dead cat, seventeen rotten eggs, one of which broke in the face of a courageous lady who had accompanied him on to the platform, and such a number of cabbage stalks that the most conscientious reporters were forced to give up the attempt to count them. At last he was forced to beat a retreat.
Now, it appears that the students, proud of their success yesterday, intend trying to disperse the meeting at Rathmines, or, at least, to make a disturbance there. Everything, therefore, points to an evening full of incident. It will be rendered doubly interesting because it is organised by the “Protestant Home Rule Association,” that is to say, by the few Protestants in the country who have joined Mr. Parnell—by the way, he is a Protestant himself—and who have now entered on the campaign in favour of Home Rule. They declare that, far from being alarmed, as the English often assert that they are, at the idea of being abandoned to the Catholics without some protection, some of the Irish Protestants are so convinced of the sentiments of justice and benevolence, or at least of tolerance, which animate the majority of their fellow countrymen, that they are among the most eager to demand separation.
A jaunting-car conveyed me in less than half anhour to the door of a very simple building, which is the Town Hall of Rathmines. If England’s tutelage, complained of by the Lord Mayor, has only the effect of recalling to the minds of the municipal architects the simplicity of style they so frequently lose sight of at home, this tutelage can scarcely be considered absolutely injurious. The street is already blocked by the crowd. Apparently the police are under the impression that there will be some work for them, for a hundred policemen are grouped in one corner, ready to interfere when necessary, but content to look on for the present. Some strong young men wearing a green badge, act as stewards and guard the doors. Every one desiring to enter must show a personal invitation. These cards have been sent out during the day. I have only an envelope signed by Mr. Gray. At first, therefore, I encountered some difficulties, because the signature was almost illegible; but as soon as it was recognised, one of the stewards gave me a formidable slap on the shoulder, exclaiming: “Bedad, sorr, with that name there isn’t any door in Ireland that wouldn’t be open to you!”
I explained to him that for the moment my sole ambition was to find a place where I could see well, and above all hear well. My friend at once told me to follow him; pushing through the crowd like a boar, hustling every one that stood in his way, and in five minutes I find myself on the platform, two steps from the president, and quite close to a window; a very advantageous position, because, first of all, I could get a little air, and secondly, if the tumult became too serious, a small jump of seven or eight feet would enable me to gain a small side lane; and this I determined to do, ifnecessary, without the least hesitation, for it would be too stupid to allow myself to be knocked down by a Nationalist, wounded by a student, or simply led off to the station by a policeman, all for the honour of “Ould Ireland,” although my martyrdom could not help her in any way.
When I had once formed my plan of campaign, I began to look about me. There was evidently electricity in the air. The hall could hold about three or four hundred people; a hundred-and-fifty or two hundred were crowded in a small gallery above the door, yet formidable pressure still took place from time to time, and on each occasion a fresh stream of people penetrated into the hall, and the new arrivals pushed forward against those who had entered before them. It was intensely hot, and already a good many present had taken off their coats. In order to pass the time they yelled out a patriotic song, commencing withGod Save Ireland, which was accompanied from the street by an orchestra composed of five or six fifes and as many drums.
A few minutes later, a grey-haired gentleman rose quite near to me and advanced to the front of the platform, where he was joined by a short, deformed man with long hair. I don’t know where he came from. Instantly there was a great silence, and the former bowed to the assembly.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “seconded by my friend, Mr. Shackleton,”—Mr. Shackleton—that was the little hunchback—bowed, in his turn, so low that his hump appeared higher than his head. The applause was enthusiastic. Evidently this is an important personage. He is the second hunchback I have seen in the Land League.Mr. Biggar, like Æsop, had only one hump; this man has two, like Punch. The tall speaker is called Mr. Alfred Webb. He continued:
“Seconded by my friend Abraham Shackleton, and in the name of theProtestant Home Rule AssociationI wish to ask your support for our candidate, Sir Thomas Esmonde, Baronet, who already represents the electoral division of South Dublin.”
This declaration was received with a tremendous noise. Every one stood up, hats flew into the air, or were waved at the end of enormous blackthorn sticks that are here called shillalahs, mouths opened like ovens, and gave vent to hurrahs that made the hall shake. The voters in the gallery thumped with all their force on the wooden balustrade, making it resound like a drum. My eyes were fixed on a short man, standing in front of me; he shouted and gesticulated so violently that I expected he would be seized with an epileptic fit. After a moment he evidently broke something in his throat, for with a despairing gesture he indicated that his voice would not come again, and, red as a tomato, he sank upon a bench to recover his strength.
The same accident probably happened to several others, for comparative silence ensued. Unfortunately, some one took advantage of it to cry: “Boys! Three cheers for the Grand Old Man!”
The “Grand Old Man” is Mr. Gladstone. Some years ago they called him “the old scoundrel.” Now he is called the “Grand Old Man” but the usual pronunciation is not sufficiently emphatic. It must be pronounced very slowly: g-r-r-r-r-and, with four or five r’s, ôld with three circumflex accents on the ô, and two on mân. Any other pronunciation lacks respect.
The quite novel idea of cheering “the Grand Old Man” made every one recover his strength. One gentleman in the gallery gave the signal by attempting to demolish the balustrade with his shillalah and the nine hurrahs broke out like a peal of thunder. Their enthusiasm was so great that when it ended one voice cried, “Once more,” and they recommenced.
But human strength has its limits, and I saw with pleasure that they were nearly exhausted. The second volley of hurrahs is not so hearty as the first. At last their throats could only utter inarticulate sounds; in spite of the efforts betrayed by their distorted features aphony was rapidly approaching.
The orators grouped near to me on the platform evidently awaited this result. One of them rose and began to speak. He first alluded to the meddling of the Court with the elections. He had scarcely launched into his subject before a young man suddenly rose at the back of the hall. “Long live the Queen! Down with the rebels!” he cried in a clear voice. Two or three other voices responded. It was the students who had just entered, but their arrangements were badly planned. Their adversaries had taken every precaution, and very few students had succeeded in slipping into the room.
The tempest was unchained, a forest of cudgels waved overhead. The students made an heroic defence, but in less than a minute they were overpowered, picked up and thrust out amidst growls resembling those of wild beasts.
However, the affair was not yet over. In the streets their friends attempted a diversion. The music which had recommenced ended in a despairing scream. Aheavy blow had broken one musician’s instrument in his face and the others took to flight. Some curious fights took place under my window; the combatants, so far as I could judge, seemed to display very serious and profound knowledge of the principles of the noble art of boxing, for in the twinkling of an eye I saw two or three noses broken. “A very illigant foight! Is it not, sorr?” said one of my neighbours, addressing me; he evidently considered it would be a personal favour if I declared myself anti-nationalist so that he might have the opportunity of commencing an equally “illigant foight” with me. I took care not to give him this satisfaction; on the contrary, I declared that I thought the fight most “illigant.” I begin to understand Irish very well, and even to speak it a little; it suffices to change most of the e’s into i’s and all the i’s into oi’s—for instance one must never say Ireland but “Oirrlande.” With these precautions progress is very rapid.
The students are decidedly not in force. In less than five minutes the incident is over, every one returns to his place, and the orators peacefully continue their speeches.
Most of them say very little; they are only the supernumeraries, the important topics are reserved for a little later on. The appearance of the hall is the interesting and instructive spectacle. The meeting is evidently composed of men belonging to the lower middle class; they are shopkeepers or clerks. There are a few torn jackets, but very few; in such an assembly one ought to find comparative moderation, but on the contrary, all these men seem really and unquestionably exasperated. When, just now, the students shouted “Long live the Queen,” and when since that an oratorhas pronounced her name, hisses and groans were heard on all sides. I consider this is one of the most serious aspects of the situation. Mr. Gladstone, once a constitutional minister, has assumed a revolutionary attitude; he has stripped the throne of its “divinity,” the name of the Queen is now treated with more contempt than the names of her ministers. The speakers, to do them justice, make no effort to excite this feeling; they constantly refer toHome Rule, but when they allude to the idea of absolute separation, or to a republic, they do so in terms which indicate that they will not even honour the question by discussing it. Do orders, resulting from political calculation, produce this state of things, or does it proceed from real conviction? I cannot tell, I can only state the fact; but I must also own that their contemptuous words were not echoed by the crowd. At last the candidate rose. Sir Thomas Esmonde is quite a young man, it appears that he is twenty-three, but he does not look more than eighteen or twenty. It is said that his fortune is very much reduced, and his family, which is far from adopting the same political views, and which now refuses to meet him, explains that it is with the hope of recovering his position that he has thrown himself into the arms of the League with so much enthusiasm.
This is another sign of the times. Formerly in England political opinions had no influence over social relations. It is said that a few years ago when Mr. Labouchere, widely known as the editor ofTruth, was presented to the Prince of Wales, he, with an amiable smile said, “No doubt your Royal Highness is aware that I am a red republican.” This is quite possible in a country where the theories of social distinction not only havenever been practised, but even seem never to have any chance of being applied. In an English drawing-room one may come into pleasant intercourse with a gentleman who explains that the landowners should be deprived of their property and that their throats should be cut on the altar of the country; because in England this has never happened, and until lately no one saw that there was any possibility of it happening. In France for a long time these encounters have been most disagreeable, and in Ireland I am led to believe that the people begin to avoid them. I am told that Sir Thomas Esmonde is “cut” by the society that he frequented before he entered political life.
However, they have not yet reached the odious personalities which too often dishonour our election struggles; and, I notice with pleasure, that the candidate’s first phrases are devoted to saying in a few words that he considers his opponent, Mr. Todhunter Pym, a perfectly honest man, and that he delights in recalling the services rendered by his father. I always acted in this way in our election meetings, and I can recollect the stupefied expressions of our adversaries’ partisans and the alarmed faces of our own when they heard me break through old traditions in such a fashion.
Otherwise I am bound to say that the shadow of the illustrious Grattan does not seem to inspire his descendant. If the truth must be owned, the honourable candidate stutters a little and consults some papers, which contain his improvisation, a little unreasonably. This is perhaps excusable because his speech bristles with figures. Beyond this it contained nothing very new.
Ireland has always been oppressed. All its industrieshave been successively sacrificed to the Machiavellian calculations of the English; first the silk manufactures, then the cotton have disappeared. Only agriculture remains. Now agriculture itself is threatened; it is dying of anæmia. Every year it pays nearly seventeen million pounds in rent, of which six millions are spent abroad by landowners who never visit Ireland. The country is therefore impoverished every year to the extent of six million pounds. How can it resist such a drainage!
“It is said that emigration is the only cure for the misfortunes of Ireland. On the contrary, emigration is killing her. In the first place, it is not true that she is too populated. Italy has 239 inhabitants per square mile”—(Oh! Sir Thomas! how wrong it is to juggle with figures in that fashion! You are quoting the statistics of Milan and Lombardy. If you took those of the Pontine Marshes or of Calabria, I think your argument would fall to pieces)—“Germany has 201; Holland, 181; France, 180; and Ireland only 169. And yet Ireland is much more fertile than England, or than most other countries.” (Oh, Sir Thomas!)
And then he added, “We suffer from a want of capital. Now at least four million Irishmen have emigrated in the last thirty years. Each man has spent at least 6l.on his voyage, this therefore amounts to twenty-four million pounds sterling, which Ireland has lost through emigration.” (Really, Sir Thomas, you are making fun of your audience! For one Irishman who has gone straight to America, ten have gone to England first, in search of fortune. Now whilst admitting that the emigrants to America have each spent 6l.on their journey, and this is far from true, for the shipcompanies take a whole family for 6l., a great many of them have simply spent four or five shillings in reaching the English coast. I think that if you reduced your numbers by seven-eighths you would perhaps be a little nearer the truth.) “Now if Ireland had retained this twenty-four millions, her agriculture would be flourishing and prosperous.”
The last few sentences particularly called forth immense enthusiasm.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “it is a solemn hour. This is the last time that I shall solicit your votes to send me to London. In a few months you will be called upon to vote again, and this time to return me as your representative to our national Parliament in Dublin. My election is not doubtful; but it is important that the large majority you gave me last time should be increased now, to prove to England that there is but an infinite minority of Irishmen who are not determined to acquire Home Rule!”
Sir Thomas Esmonde was followed by a ferocious looking doctor, who handled the English in general, but Lord Randolph Churchill in particular, very roughly; he appeared to cherish a special animosity against the latter. What had he done to him? I do not know. But if I were Lord Randolph I would avoid that doctor if I were ill.
I hoped for some compensation when Mr. Abraham Shackleton began to speak. I had heard that he was a Quaker. The only thing that I ever understood about the religion of that sect was that its members never wore buttons to their coats, always kept on their hats, and thee’d and thou’d everybody. Now his waistcoat was buttoned, his head was only covered with badly-combedhair, and I heard him say to the Lord Mayor, who came in; “How do you do?” This immediately put me on my guard, for I have a horror of renegades. I therefore only waited to hear him declare that he would rather be oppressed by a Catholic like his friend the Lord Mayor than protected by a Protestant like Mr. Chamberlain; then I slipped out, only too happy to breathe the fresh air once more.
Mr. Gray had invited me to smoke a cigar with him at Pembroke House after the meeting. It was already nearly eleven; however, I took advantage of his kind invitation. I was conducted to a magnificent library by a neat little maid who did not appear to have suffered much from Ireland’s misfortunes, nor particularly from famine, for she is quite plump. The master of the house had returned already; he was relating to Mrs. Gray all the incidents of his meeting, which had been very successful. From time to time a small bell recalled him to a telephone placed in the middle of the table. The special wire for the newspaper began to transmit the results of the English elections and the news was immediately forwarded to him. They were not brilliant for the Liberals. From all sides came tidings of the Conservative successes. Mr. Gray’s features expressed great annoyance.
“Bah!” said he at last, “we are beaten! Well, the English will have it hot! There must be new elections before six months are over!”
Apparently this means that there are a few good nights of obstruction reserved for the members of the House of Commons. How strange Mr. Gray’s position is! For in fact, however they may try to dissimulate it, the Irish claims if they do not yet amount tocommunism as their avowed object—and they may still retain a few illusions upon that point—still it is quite certain that the methods employed by the Land League would not be disowned by the most advanced Communists. No one can proclaim the principle of permanent State intervention in a bargain regulating the value of the land without being a Communist.
Now amongst us there is no lack of rich Communists; but they are only men who are outcasts from their own class, and who have thrown themselves into the party through hatred of the society which they feel is closed against them; for they all lead irregular lives, or else have a blot on their past. Mr. Gray’s case is quite different. He belongs to an excellent family, his perfect respectability has never been questioned, even by his worst enemies. He leads the most regular life; has a large fortune, and yet places all these advantages, and his undoubted abilities, at the service of Communism. Either he shows admirable disinterestedness, or else the race of people, who, mounted on a tree, cut on the side nearest the trunk the branch that supports them, is not yet extinct.
I must now sum up the conversations I have had with these gentlemen during the day. First, I must affirm, that they all declare in the most positive way, that in asking for Home Rule they have no after-thoughts; they do not dream of complete separation. They wish to have autonomy, and power to regulate their own affairs, but they are all ready to contribute to the common expenses. They do not think of independence, still less of a republic. They are quite decided on this point. Besides they also explain, very clearly, that the separation, which would be a wound and a menace forEngland, would be death for their country. Irish productions are exclusively agricultural, and England is the only market that geography allows them. England can buy whatever cattle or pigs she requires from other places; Ireland can only sell hers in England. Suppose that a lucky rebellion drove every Englishman out of the island; to bring Ireland to her feet, England need not blockade the Irish ports, she has only to close her own against Irish productions. Under these circumstances separation would evidently be suicide.
This once understood, they willingly say when they are asked about the agrarian laws, that they quite acknowledge how much danger State intervention in the relations between the farmers and the landlords involves, and how much the principle of that intervention is opposed to the most elementary laws of economy. “But,” they add, “necessity has no law. With us emigration is a last resource that every man endeavours to avoid.” (This quite upset all my theories; I fancied that Irishmen were much inclined to emigrate.)
“An Irishman never emigrates except through compulsion or force. A ruined man will take a farm at any price, knowing perfectly well that it will be impossible for him to pay for it, but also knowing that the landlord will give him credit for the first year or two’s rent, and that he will thus postpone the day when he must seek work in England or America as long as possible.
“Under these circumstances the law of supply and demand is evidently vitiated, and it is by looking at the question from this point, that we can maintain that the work of the Land League has done good. Without our intervention the landlords would have depopulated one-half of Ireland, for agriculture is in such a distressedstate that it is naturally impossible for farmers to pay their rent in the present state of the division of land; the only remedy for this situation is the formation of small holdings, which have so much enriched France.”
Here I stopped them. “But,” said I, “the agricultural crisis is not confined to your country. It exists all over Europe. We, Frenchmen, are suffering so much from it that in my department of the Aisne, one of the richest in France, one-tenth of the land is abandoned, because it is found that at present prices the sale of produce does not cover the expenses of cultivation. The peasant proprietors of whom you speak are absolutely ruined now, because their land has lost all its value. Now, allow me to say, without offending you, that our land and our climate are far better than yours.
“This state of things, which prevails all over Europe and which is the result of facility of transport, can only have two solutions: emigration or protection. Up till now you have had recourse to emigration, and you have managed comparatively well since the failure in the potato harvest, which led to the famine in 1847, when you had nine million inhabitants. In 1877 it only caused less misery because there were four or five million less mouths. It appears that now you do not wish for any further emigration, unluckily, protection is almost impossible. We can apply it at home. We have already done so, and shall do it again. It is possible because we are a very homogeneous people, where all industries work side by side. When we ask the blacksmith to pay a little more for his bread in order that his neighbour, the farmer, may live, he easily understands that if the farmer is ruined he will no longer have horses to be shod. Besides, the farmer is his neighbour,perhaps his relation. With you everything is different. You only produce meat and butter, and only English workmen can possibly buy them. You require their custom,they do not need yours, and, more than this, you loudly proclaim that you do not belong to the same race, that between you and them there is war to the knife, that you wish to be as completely separated as possible, compatible with your own interests without paying the least attention to theirs. How can you hope to succeed when you act in this way?”
In my opinion these gentlemen have not answered my objections in a satisfactory manner. They do not appear to know that the agricultural crisis exists anywhere but here. In principle they would be partisans of the protective system, but they recognise that they cannot hope to obtain it from England, at least for a long time.
What form of government do they intend giving to autonomic Ireland? As a rule these men evade giving any decided information on the subject, and this is very natural. Give us the principle, they say, the first Irish Parliament will regulate all matters of detail. However, before giving the principle, it is natural enough that England should wish to know what the consequences will be. An article in theNineteenth Century, from the pen of Mr. Barry O’Brien, has recently dealt with this question.
According to him, there are five men who, in public opinion, so completely personify the cause of Ireland that their ideas would prevail whenever it became a question of giving definite form to the Nationalist aspirations. These five men are Messrs. Parnell, Davitt, Healy, Archbishop Croke, and Archbishop Walsh. Now, according to what we know of theiropinions, we may form an exact idea of the combination they would uphold. It would consist in:
The creation of an Irish Parliament, sitting at Dublin, and invested with the most extended legislative powers on all local subjects; it would consequently make all the laws relating to questions of property, justice, police, and commerce. But the Imperial Government will preserve an absolute authority upon all the following questions:—Foreign relations—especially the right of declaring war—the army, navy, coinage, posts, and customs. All the Imperial expenses would be covered by means of a tax, collected before any other levy, from the Irish revenue, and the payment of this tax would be received by crown officials.
Would the Irish Parliament admit of an Upper House? Yes; in all probability. Mr. Dwyer Gray is a great partisan of this idea. Only he states, with deep regret, that all the Irish peers, having up to the present time shown themselves absolutely hostile to any project of Home Rule, and besides having lost any kind of political influence, it would probably be difficult to have recourse to them to form the Upper House. But he does not say who would replace them.
A second question arises: Would Ireland return members to the Imperial Parliament as Mr. Gladstone proposes? This idea alone exasperates the English considerably, for they say that if separation is forced upon them, they will at least be spared the insult of seeing the Irish continue to take part in the elaboration of laws, to which they will themselves be subject no longer. Many Irishmen renounce this privilege. It is, however, known that the Archbishops greatly desire it, because they consider that in the regulation of religiousquestions, the influence of Irish Catholics might often be useful to the interests of their English co-religionists. Mr. Parnell also shares their views.
Such in its main lines is the programme desired by the Land League. It includes very onerous and very dangerous sacrifices for England. And then as Mr. R—— said, we may ask, whether when once these sacrifices are made, the Irish encouraged by their success, will not take them as a starting-point for new claims. Unfortunately the history of popular revolutions shows, that once entered on the pathway of concessions, it is very difficult for a government to stop.
However, it appears to me that in this respect the Irish revolution will offer some guarantees, of which the others were quite destitute. In this country there exist very powerful elements of social preservation. In the first place, religion has an enormous influence, that later events have only augmented. Then the war of classes is certainly not carried to its highest point, nor has it at all the same character as with us. The peasant’s hatred is not roused against the landlord because he is noble and rich, but because he is Protestant, and represents in his eyes the invader. The Irish who return from America bring with them ultra democratic ideas, which are, perhaps, propagated; but up to now, the bulk of the nation does not hold them. With us, in the eyes of all good democrats, it is an irremediable blot to belong nearly or distantly to the nobility. The Marquis de Songeon could not obtain a nomination to the Municipal Council of Paris, although he was atheist and radical to the last degree, unless he called himself M. Songeon. Here, in every case, where a man can attach himself to a noble family, he neverfails to do it, and as soon as a political man begins to attain notoriety, every newspaper belonging to his party asserts that he is a direct descendant from the Irish kings. Verily there must have been a great many of them!
In London, in Mr. R——’s drawing-room, I heard the Land League and Home Rule discussed from the English point of view; Messrs. Harrington, Gray, Biggar, and O’Sullivan have spoken to me about it from the Irish side. I am therefore well acquainted with the theoretical view of the question. Now I wish to see the Land League at work. In this respect, Ireland is divided into two very distinct parts, which are very unequal in size. In the first, which includes Ulster, and is much the smaller, the population is nearly equally divided between the two religions. In this province the Land League has been unable to establish its authority in an absolute way; it is always in the militant stage. In the south, on the contrary, the Protestant element, we may say, is non-existent, or at least is only represented by a few landowners. The Land League was able to establish itself there without any struggle. Its authority is unquestioned. Consequently everything that happens there is the application of its doctrines. I must therefore study them in the south. With this object I leave to-morrow for Limerick, where Colonel M—— has kindly invited me to stay with him. From there I shall branch off into Kerry and Clare, and I fancy that it is in that direction that I shall have the best opportunity of examining the work of this formidable machine which, for the last four years, has held all the powers of the English Government in check.
ADVICE TO TOURISTS ON THE ART OF KISSING ENGLISH WOMEN—AN IRISH INN—CASTLE CONNELL—THE DEATH OF THE LAST OF THE O’BRIENS—BALLINACOURTY—CAPTAIN MOONLIGHT—THE SHANNON—SIR CROKER BARRINGTON—MR. CARDEN—LORD CLONCURRY AND HIS TENANTS—A LAND LEAGUE HUT—MR. PATRICK HOGAN’S OPINION OF THE LANDLORDS.
ADVICE TO TOURISTS ON THE ART OF KISSING ENGLISH WOMEN—AN IRISH INN—CASTLE CONNELL—THE DEATH OF THE LAST OF THE O’BRIENS—BALLINACOURTY—CAPTAIN MOONLIGHT—THE SHANNON—SIR CROKER BARRINGTON—MR. CARDEN—LORD CLONCURRY AND HIS TENANTS—A LAND LEAGUE HUT—MR. PATRICK HOGAN’S OPINION OF THE LANDLORDS.
5th July.—Yesterday morning at eight o’clock I left Dublin to commence my tour in the Irish counties. Shelburne Hotel is feeling the effects of passing events for it is nearly empty. I am told that formerly at this season it would have been impossible for them to have given me a room—at all events to have kept one for me in advance—for it was the time when all the upper classes of Irishwomen met in the capital to pay their respects to the Viceroy, and to be kissed by him, for it appears that this istheessential point in the viceregal receptions. The Viceroy should kiss every lady presented to him, and when duels were still fashionable in Ireland, it would have been most imprudent for the Viceroy to show indifference whilst kissing any of the beauties who passed before him; the father, brother, husband, or betrothed would certainly have inquired his reason for such unjustifiable coolness. And, moreover—I cite this fact for the benefit of any travellerswho may wish for instruction in the matter—the art of kissing Englishwomen is extremely delicate, and involves a number of important details. It is scarcely necessary to say that as a rule it is more prudent to abstain even from kissing the hand, which our custom recognises, but which on the other side of the Channel is considered full of mental reservations. But under certain circumstances this reserve constitutes an unpardonable offence. For instance, if you should be invited to pass Christmas in an English family, take care as you enter to glance at the chandelier. You may make a bet that a large branch of mistletoe will be hanging there. In that case, if you do not wish to pass for the most ignorant or vulgar of men, you are in duty bound to immediately and unhesitatingly kiss every female in the house, from the grandmother to the smallest girl. Custom imperatively demands this attention, and the English of both sexes cherish it so greatly that in colonies where mistletoe does not grow it is imported by shiploads in time for that festive season.
But then, we have only to consult English history to see what an important part has often been played by kissing, both in military and political cases. They say that in the last century a Duchess of Marlborough, hearing that her husband’s regiment had sustained heavy losses and that the recruiting sergeants had some trouble in filling up the ranks, on one occasion accompanied one of them to the market, holding a shilling between her lips, which she offered to every recruit who would take it with his own; and the story-teller gallantly adds that in an hour the total strength of theregiment was fully reached, and that they could have recruited a whole brigade in the same way had they wished it.
At the present time a kiss can still have great political influence. In order to oppose the Land League, Lady Randolph Churchill has founded a counter-league solely composed of women, which has been marvellously successful. Each member of the Primrose League undertakes to neglect no means, during the elections, of enticing voters to the Conservative party, and it is stated that some of the prettiest women unhesitatingly adopt the same method that the Duchess of Marlborough found so successful. But in spite of all these precedents we should advise tourist novices to be very careful. They had better sin through omission than by commission, for exaggerated eagerness or warmth might be misunderstood. A manual might be written on these serious questions.
Did or did not Lord Aberdeen, the late Viceroy, impartially kiss all the ladies of the Irish nobility and gentry who were suffering from the Land League, or did they wish to punish him for his Gladstonian tendencies by not giving him even a chance? I do not know. But in any case there is no season this year and the Shelburne is almost empty. The proprietors endeavour to console themselves with the aid of a few rich American tourists, and I must own that when a passing Frenchman falls into their hands, they treat him precisely like the Americans. It was after experiencing this fact that I confided my portmanteau and its owner to the tender mercy of a car-driver to take me to Kingsbridge station. But, since yesterday was Sunday, I explained to him thatI wished first to be driven to a Catholic church to hear mass, instructions that might have lowered me in the opinion of a French carriage-driver, but which in Dublin won for me the most unequivocal marks of consideration from this son of green Erin.
He first drove me to a chapel built on the banks of the river, in one of the poorest and most miserable districts, not far from Guinness’s brewery. I was extremely struck with all I saw.
When I entered, mass was about to commence; five or six hundred persons were kneeling on benches or on the ground. I do not think that amongst the whole number there was a single one whose appearance did not indicate the deepest misery. By my side five or six men were telling their beads. They were almost colossi, with bull-dog heads, very short cropped hair and unshaven chins. They wore patched woollen shirts and looked like dock porters. A little further away there was a group of twelve or fifteen women, frightfully thin, with the hungry worn-out look one sees on so many faces over here. All these miserable creatures had evidently attempted to tidy themselves for Sunday. Most of them wore shoes. I am told that these shoes go to the pawnbroker regularly every Monday, and are redeemed on Saturday evening for Sunday’s mass. The dresses have lost all their colour and their lank folds show there is nothing worn underneath, but the poor owners all pray with marvellous fervour. I have never seen in any church the striking and sincere faith then visible amongst these unfortunate Irish whom Providence seems to have condemned to such a hard life.
At the station I gained some information that mademe a little anxious. It appears that on Sundays the trains run very irregularly. They could, therefore, only give me a ticket to Limerick Junction, about twenty or thirty miles from the city; but the officials told me that excursion trains often ran on Sundays from Cork to Limerick, perhaps I could catch one of them; so I entered the train on this rather doubtful chance.
The appearance of the country through which we pass is very strange. I now understand the names “Green Erin” and the “Emerald Isle” which are so often found in Irish poetry. Green is the scarcely undulating plain which extends on each side of the railway; green also are the slightly elevated hills which bound the horizon. We may say that there is no agriculture. Only from time to time we catch sight of some fields of potatoes and oats. Not a single tree. The fences are only heaps of earth—the same enclosures that in Brittany are calledfossés, only here there is seldom any hedge. My fellow-passengers explained to me that when a landowner wishes to make a plantation, everything is at once cut down by the tenants, or else they let their horses feed on the young trees, because they say no one has any right to deprive the people of the land by which they live.
In quality all this pasturage is very indifferent. The soil is not worth anything, but I expected at least to see the fields well kept. But, in reality, this is far from being the case. There is not one in fifty that does not manifestly require drainage, for they are all overrun with rushes. A fanciful agriculturist with whom I travelled gravely assured me that these rushes are much appreciated, because in winter the cattle know how to pull them up and eat the white part that is hidden inthe earth. I was too polite to laugh in his face; I was content to point out to him that the intellectual effort and intelligence which the cattle must develop in order to procure this food seems to interfere with their growing fat; the blade wears out the sheath; this explains why all those we pass are in such poor condition. Besides, the quantity as well as the quality is deficient. The pasturage would feed more animals than are now grazing upon it, for the grass is not sufficiently cropped. This all indicates a lack of capital.
Sir Thomas Esmonde told us yesterday that we should not find land to be compared to Ireland anywhere else. I suppose he was scarcely alluding to this district. Still, I read in a book of statistics—and the fact is confirmed by my fellow-travellers—that County Kildare and Queen’s County, which we are now passing through, both rank amongst the most fertile parts of Ireland. At all events there is less misery in them now than in any other counties. Whenever, in Dublin, the poverty of the population was spoken of, I was always told that I must go to the south and west to really appreciate it.
This leads me to make a comparison that again seems to contradict the assertions of the orator at Rathmines. Sir Thomas told us that emigration was one of the chief causes of the ruin of Ireland. Now, Queen’s County, which suffered enormously from famine in 1847, is precisely the county where there is the most visible diminution of the population. Queen’s County contained about 160,000 inhabitants in 1847; 153,000 in 1841. Its superficial area is 425,000 acres, of which 55,000 acres are absolutely unproductive. It was therefore necessary that 370,000 acres should feed 150,000inhabitants. This makes almost one inhabitant to each two and a half acres, which is a very heavy average for a stock-raising country. It is not nearly so high with us, and it was evidently too much for the country, since many of the people died of hunger.
The population has diminished by more than one-half; there are now only 75,000 inhabitants, and if it seems proved that it suffers less than other counties from the present crisis, how can they declare that emigration is a source of ruin?
Turf pits are noticeable in every part of the land. Most people know how this curious combustible is formed. During the summer some cold damp countries become covered with an abundant vegetation of moss and herbage that forms a very close and thick undergrowth. These plants die every autumn. During the winter their decomposition produces a layer of leaf mould, in which a new vegetation of plants of the same species springs up again, and its rich growth mingling in its decay with that of the preceding year, the soil is thus annually raised by successive layers. Sometimes it reaches twelve or fifteen feet in height. Whilst digging in this mass of vegetable matter, enormous oaks are frequently discovered, after being buried for thousands of years, and the wood having become very close and perfectly black is much in request for cabinet-making, etc. They are called bog oaks. A quantity of stag and elk horns are also found, which prove that formerly Ireland was richer in large game than she is now; for, with the exception of a few found at Killarney, the stag has completely disappeared. The peat is formed by these accumulations of roots. The lower layers which have been compressed by theothers are the most appreciated. They are dug out with a spade, in black bricks, which are afterwards dried in small heaps. This is the sole fuel used by the Irish peasants, for it is now a long time since the forests were destroyed, and there is not a single coal-mine in the whole country. On a hearth, well-dried peat makes a fairly good fire; but its extreme lightness renders it almost useless for any industrial purposes. The smallest draught draws up the tall chimney all the fuel that is between the bars. Still, a little is used in a few factories in Germany.
Peat is therefore a very indifferent resource as fuel. This is very unfortunate for Ireland, as she has a great quantity of it. It forms the subsoil of at least half the pasturage we pass through. Every moment we see a large black trench at one corner of the field. Here the farmer digs out his fuel.
I am told that this indifferent, badly-kept pasturage is usually let as 2l., 3l., and 4l.the acre. The Irish acre is larger than the English. It is almost as large as one of ourarpents, viz., an acre and a quarter. Thehectare, nearly two and a half acres, is therefore let at 4l.to 10l.This is certainly much too dear. A Normandy farmer would not pay that price. In Calvados, pasturage resembling that which I have seen here would not be worth more than 3l.10s., or 4l.an hectare. And then the farmer would be in a better position for working it, since first he would derive some profit from his apples; and besides this, he would have the command of sufficient capital to buy the necessary herd of animals, a capital that none of these people seem to possess.
I compare this country to Normandy for two reasons. In the first place, they have the same productions; inthe second, the same market. London prices regulate those of both countries. And we must also remember that Normandy is nearer to London than Ireland. On the other hand, the burdens that weigh upon the French farmer are much the heavier. The land-taxes are dearer with us than in England. The expenses of registration, so onerous in our country, do not exist on this side of the Channel. I saw the deed of sale of a property worth 4,000l.; the only duty to pay was a fee of 30s.In France the registration would have absorbed about 400l.Military service also weighs very heavily upon our agriculturists. And, evidently, all these things should be taken into account. However, when the Land Leaguers say that the rents are too high, I think they are right. But then, why do the tenants take the land at that price?
In the country we seldom see a group of houses; there seems nothing resembling our villages. Only at long distances, three or four cottages are visible clustered round a pond; as a rule, they are isolated. Externally, the houses do not look so miserable as I had imagined them to be. They are certainly small and low, but they are all carefully whitewashed, and their thatched roofs are generally in good order; but the gardens appear very badly kept.
I can boast of wonderfully good luck. Can it be my introduction to Messrs. Biggar and Shackleton that has brought it to me? When I reached Limerick Junction I saw a locomotive getting up steam in a corner of the station. It is one of the excursion trains that I had been told to look out for; I hurried into a carriage and arrived at Limerick just in time to catch another which conveyed the Limerick people, who were fond of nature,out of the town to pass their evenings at Athlone; about five o’clock it deposited me at Castle Connell Station, about a mile from my destination.
But I had not found anything to eat on the road; all the refreshment-rooms are closed on Sunday. Luckily Castle Connell is frequented by a good many Englishmen who fish for salmon, and for their benefit one of those good little inns has been established where one can never find anything but an enormous piece of roast beef, but where this roast beef, the roast beef of Old England, is always delicious. Consequently five minutes after my arrival I was seated before one of those excellent products of English civilisation, from which I cut formidable slices that only just touched my plate. Whilst I was thus occupied, the landlady, a woman of respectable appearance, who called me “sir” with every three words, sent for a jaunting-car to take me to Ballinacourty, Colonel M——’s house. In a few moments I saw a tattered personage ornamented with a very red nose, and cheeks framed with a superb beard cut like a Russian Grand Duke’s, enter the room. It is wonderful how hairy the Irish race are! It is probably the damp air of the country which produces this great development of the capillary system. This individual is the driver to whom I must confide myself.
“And it’s to the Colonel’s I’m to take your honour?” said this modern Esau with the finest accent that can be heard.
“Yes, it is to the Colonel’s that you must take my honour. One mile from here! You know the way?”
“Do I know my own mother? Ah, your honour, it’s just as though your honour asked did I know the Colonel. Your honour! blessed be the saints, and afoine gentleman he is! Every time he sees me, your honour, he offers me a dhrink.”
“And how much do you want for the drive?”
“How far did your honour say it was from here to Ballinacourty?”
“A mile. I saw it on the map.”
“A mile!”
The idea that it was only a mile from Castle Connell to Ballinacourty seemed so droll to him that he called the waiter, laughing heartily as he did so.
“Hear this, Tim?” said he. “Here his honour says that to go to the Colonel’s it is only a mile!”
Tim also found this idea so ridiculous that he laughed till his old coat threatened to split, but feeling his dignity compromised by this burst of hilarity, he wiped his face with a dirty napkin and politely apologised:
“Beg your pardon, sir!” said he, “but, holy Mother of God, there are at least four miles, and the road is very bad.”
“No, Tim, no,” replied the driver with a noble air, “the road has been mended, and it is not four miles; it is a little over three; but there, we will only say three. You know this gentleman is going to the Colonel’s, a man who never forgets to offer a dhrink, does he, Tim?”
“Never!” said Tim with an air of conviction; “he offered me one the day before yesterday.”
But as it was evident the driver had already met some foine gentlemen who had given him a great many more dhrinks than was good for him, I chose not to understand his hints. At last, in despair at my want of intelligence, he decided to put my portmanteau upon his car. We seated ourselves back to back, and in spite of the disadvantages of thisposition from a conversational point of view, we soon became good friends. He even thought it his duty to do the honours of the local curiosities.
Castle Connell is now only a small village frequented by the fishermen, who are attracted by a desire to tease the salmon in the Shannon; but its past is more glorious, for it was once the capital of one of those innumerable kings who rendered to modern Irishmen a service they now seem to appreciate very highly, by enabling them all to claim a royal descent. It was the O’Briens, kings of Munster, who inhabited Castle Connell. They built on the banks of the Shannon a castle of which we still see the ruins, not far from the spot where the hotel now stands. To borrow a verse from king Pharaoh’s celebrated ballad, these monarchs though legitimate were full of perversity, and this led to their committing many crimes, thanks to which they became very rich and very powerful; but unfortunately for them they had one virtue, and this was enough to ruin them. They were exceedingly hospitable. But that is a common virtue in Ireland, and has ruined many families from the days of the O’Briens to the present time. The Irish gentry have always carried hospitality to such a point, that it formed the most expensive of all luxuries. The table was always laid, who ever liked was welcome, and the best in the house was reserved for strangers, until the sheriff’s officer intervened. Now Irish landlords no longer dine with each other, because they dare not go out in the evening for fear of being shot. If this wise reform now due to the benevolent watchfulness of the Land League had taken place fifty or sixty years sooner many Irish gentlemen would have escaped ruin. But Mr. Parnell and his agents commenced their work toolate, when the majority of landlords were already completely ruined; and consequently they feel no gratitude towards the new arrangements. It was therefore a taste for hospitality which ruined the dynasty of Castle Connell. One fine day the reigning O’Brien invited one of his friends to dinner. The latter profited by this invitation to introduce some of his followers into the castle, and seized the too hospitable dwelling. He then put out the eyes of his host and ruled in his place. In analogous circumstances Samson unhesitatingly sacrificed his life to his vengeance. He pulled down his own house and crushed the three thousand Philistines who were in it beneath the ruins. Apparently the last of the O’Briens did not seek to revenge himself in equally heroic fashion. In the first place, he was assassinated soon after the fatal dinner. Another thing, perhaps he was not so strongly framed as the victim of the fair Delilah; and also, perhaps the Irish were better builders than the Jews: the examination of the ruins strongly inclines me to this latter hypothesis. They consist of two or three rather dismantled towers, for the old fortress, which had remained intact until 1688, was taken at this date from the partisans of King James who defended it, by the Hanoverians, who undermined it and blew it up.
My Automedon did all in his power to awaken my sympathy for the family misfortunes; I also think he claimed some relationship to them, but I am not quite sure, for Irish explanations are rather diffuse and hard to comprehend. In courses of elementary mathematics pupils are often given very complicated formulæ to extract the unknown quantity therefrom: the conversations of the Irish remind me of these studies of myyouth. They are so embarrassed with incidental phrases, pious exclamations, or simply polite expressions, such as “Please your honour,” that the unknown, that is to say, the true meaning, is hard to extricate. Furthermore, they have a mania for answering one question by another. For instance, when I asked my coachman if he knew his way, instead of simply answering “Yes,” he asked me if I thought he did not know his own mother.
Besides, the length of his discourse and his anxiety to impart to me all the historical reminiscences which I have faithfully recorded, had manifestly the object of deluding me about the distance which separates Castle Connell from Ballinacourty. In reality it is only a mile, and, in spite of his efforts, in less than half an hour we arrived in front of Colonel M——’s house.
My host is still a victim of the Land League. This is his history. It is curious, precisely because it resembles that of hundreds of other landlords. All the tenants on his estate, in County Clare, had leases of thirty-one years, which fact, in parenthesis, is a formal contradiction to Mr. Parnell, when he claimsfixity of tenure, that is to say, security for the tenants, and declares that one of the chief reasons which prevent improvements is that the landlords refuse to give them leases, and like to retain the right of sending them away whenever they please. I may even add that I have seen a number of these leases, and my tenants may feel certain that I will never sign anything like them. It seems to me that the essential point of a lease is that it should be bilateral—that the two parties should be bound for the same time. Each runs some risk. If the years are good the landlord does notbenefit by the rise, but if they are bad he does not suffer from the fall.
Now, the Irish leases—at least those that I have seen, and I am assured that until the last few years all were drawn up in the same form—contain a clause that absolutely destroys this principle. It is always stipulated that the tenant should have the right to withdraw at any time by giving six months’ notice in advance, without any reciprocal power being reserved for the landlord. I do not therefore see why the latter should tie his hands for thirty-one years; and if it is true that many landowners have refused to grant leases to their tenants, it appears to me that their refusal was clearly justified by this extraordinary clause.
But in any case the Colonel’s patrimonial estate had always been managed in this way, and consequently, while those of his neighbours who had refused to be bound by leases profited by the years of plenty that followed the famine by raising their rents 25, 50, and often 100 per cent., the rents on his property remained stationary, or at least were only raised in a very irregular manner, since the increased rents could only be charged when the leases had to be renewed.
When bad seasons returned the Government took the initiative by a law known as the Land Bill, which instituted committees charged with the regulation of the rents, but these committees ignored all previous contracts. They commenced by reducing all rents on an average 15 to 20 per cent. Then the Land League intervened, and by methods which, if illegal, were not the less efficacious, it obtained fresh reductions, which generally doubled the first. On some estates, those which are referred to when it is desirable to quote aninstance, things were restored to nearly their original condition. When this happened the landlords protested a little, but merely as a matter of form; for even had the committee not imposed a reduction, they would have been glad enough to receive their rents at the same rate as before the rise took place.
But the numerous class of those who had not raised their rents naturally considered that it was supremely unjust that reductions should be forced upon them when they had not profited by the good years. And really they had some ground for complaint. Let us take the case of two landlords who own estates of the same quality contiguous to one another. In 1855, for instance, both of them let the land at 4l.per acre; in 1870 the first of them raised the rent to 8l.The second, restrained by a lease or simply by moral considerations, had not altered the price. The Government and the Land League only reduced the former to his original sum of 4l., whilst the latter saw his rent fall to 2l., and found himself impoverished by one half simply because he had not ground down his tenant like his neighbour had done.
A great many resisted, the Colonel amongst them. He declared that, under the circumstances, he preferred taking back his land and cultivating it himself, but by thus acting he infringed the fundamental rule of the League. Here I cannot resist inserting a parenthesis.
The idea that ownership of the soil is a property like any other is certainly a modern idea. The old notion of land tenure, the outcome of feudal laws, considerably limited the landlord’s rights, by creating, amongst other things, between him and the tenant reciprocal obligations, such as personal or military service; these are nolonger compatible with modern ideas, but we still find persistent traces of them in every country in Europe, and particularly in France. Thus many of the lands of Sauterre, for instance, are or have till quite recently been subject to a law which provided that a landlord could not send away a tenant without replacing him by one of his relations, or by cultivating the farm himself. Of course this law has not been inscribed in any code for a very long time. It is asserted that it dates back to the Crusades; but it is so deeply ingrafted into the national customs that here the land subject to it is always let more cheaply than any other, because the owners well know that if they have reason to complain of a tenant, and that no one of his family is disposed to take the farm, this generally happens—they will not find any one to replace him. The owners of land subject to these laws are therefore in a great measure at the mercy of their tenants. Attempts have frequently been made to evade it, but they have always been followed by repentance, for they have invariably been punished, either by arson, or by mutilations of cattle. But this is all avoided if the proprietor cultivates the land himself. This is the sole proceeding that, according to custom, will enable him to act against the tenant.
These facts are well known. I recall them because they throw a new light upon the events now passing in Ireland. The Land League by refusing to allow the landlord the right of dismissing his tenant, endeavours, perhaps a little unconscionably, to revive in force old customs that are evidently of feudal origin, and which, if resuscitated, would completely subvert all modern notions of property, whilst it is very curious that the League is encouraged in these attempts by therevolutionists of the whole world. But at least the old law acknowledged the proprietor’s right to cultivate the land himself, and this the Land League refuses to do.
The Colonel’s decision was scarcely announced when all corners of the estate were placarded with notices warning the public that the fields were boycotted. A butcher from Limerick rented a meadow, he had reason to regret it; during the night the tails of all his oxen were cut off. Then things became worse; the Colonel had left the service in order to manage the property himself. Soon after he first returned, he wished to make an example, and sent away two tenants who were pointed out to him as ringleaders in mischief. He immediately received several letters signedCaptain Moonlight, couched in the most polite terms, but in which he was advised to have the measure for his coffin taken as soon as possible. A few days later he had dined with a neighbour and was on his way home towards eleven o’clock at night. It was fairly light; on leaving the park the road led up a rather steep incline, to the right there was a field of oats separated from the road by a low wall.
As they drove through the gate the coachman, who probably had partaken too freely of the hospitality of the servants’ hall, suddenly whipped up his horse. The Colonel, who was sitting on the second seat of the jaunting-car, turned round to tell him to drive more slowly; at the same time he heard the report of a gun; his hat was pierced, and by the light of the shot he distinctly saw the man who had fired from the other side of the hedge. He seized the gun that was always in the carriage, and jumped down; unfortunately the horse was still going so fast that he rolled into the ditch. When he got up again the man was already somedistance away, running across the oats. He fired twice but could not reach him. A few weeks later in his turn he had some friends to dinner. The dessert had been served, and, according to the English custom, the ladies had risen to return to the drawing-room; the Colonel drew back against the wall to allow his neighbour to pass when a shot was fired outside through the dining-room window; this time the bullet passed through his coat.
Two years later an Irish priest, settled in America, wrote to him saying that the author of the two attempts had just died in hospital, and that before receiving absolution he had asked his confessor to write to the Colonel to implore his pardon and to tell him all the details of the crime. He had received 100 guineas for the attempts, the result of a donation from all the tenants on the estate.
This is the position of affairs in the country, and the situation is rendered particularly serious by the offenders being very rarely arrested; their secret is too well kept. Besides, when they are arrested, it is not of much use; the juries know what to expect if they give an adverse verdict, and therefore the few culprits brought before them are nearly always acquitted. The other day there was a very amusing case of this kind.
One of the Colonel’s neighbours, also an ex-officer, Major F——, had some difficulties with a drover who occupied a very small farm. He gave him notice to quit. The man complained to the Land League, and the president wrote to the Major telling him that he had received a complaint against him and requesting him to give some explanation about the motives that had led him to act so harshly. The Major consideringthis summons a simple piece of impertinence naturally took no notice of it. But he suffered for his neglect. A few days’ later as he finished breakfast, he noticed five or six cows feeding in a field of clover in front of his windows. He went out, for he could not understand how they had entered. When he reached the field he found they had passed through a gap in the wall that had evidently been made on purpose.
He drove them before him, intending to make them go out by the same gap, when he suddenly perceived, not ten paces from him, a man on the other side of the wall deliberately aiming at him with a long holster pistol. He instantly recognised his drover. The shot followed; he realised that he was not hit, but he turned on his heels and ran back into the house to find a weapon. When, ten minutes later, he returned to the fields, he made a curious discovery—the pistol had burst; this accident had saved his life. The fragments of the weapon were on the ground. The drover had disappeared, but he had been severely wounded; his right hand thumb had been blown off, and was found in a pool of blood.
Five or six days later the assassin was arrested in a hospital where he had gone to have his wounds attended to. He was sent to the assizes; but on the eve of the trial each juryman received a letter signed “Captain Moonlight,” informing him that the man had only obeyed orders, and that if he were condemned, others would be found ready to avenge him and to make them suffer the same fate from which the Major had so narrowly escaped.
The man denied everything, and was acquitted. As he came down from the prisoner’s bench, when thejudge had informed him that he was free, he had the impudence to turn round and say:
“Excuse me, your Lordship, but won’t they give me back my thumb? I should like to bury it!”
The Colonel told me this story as we strolled on the banks of the river. The Shannon is not navigable above Limerick. At the place where we now are it is a fine stream between two and three hundred yards wide. The water is clear as crystal, except where it foams round numerous rocky boulders, over which it descends from cascade to cascade until it reaches a kind of lake formed by a bend in the river which there suddenly turns westward.
The two banks are covered with fine trees which reach to the water’s edge, forming a lovely picture, which would exactly resemble a creek in the Rocky Mountains if one could not see pretty country houses in every direction, so near together that the parks join each other. From Lord Massy’s garden, where we stand, we can see five or six. The salmon-fishing is the great attraction; no one could imagine the follies Englishmen will commit for its enjoyment. Our own custom is repeated here, the owners of the river banks claim the fishing to the middle of the stream. I was shown the boundaries of one of these claims, which is only about four hundred and forty yards long. It is let during the season for 200l.; and the lessee must also employ two keepers, a boat, and two boatmen. Altogether, without counting the other expenses of his change of residence, the whole costs between 280l.and 320l.A rather longer reach, situated a little more up the stream, has been let for £400. I inquired whether these liberal fishermen catch plenty of salmon, and was at onceinformed that I had made use of a very terrible barbarism. One must not say “catch a salmon,” but “kill a salmon.” This important point settled, I then learned that this has been rather a bad season, but that when the stream has risen well, lucky and skilful fishermen can kill as many as eight salmon in a day.
This morning I asked the Colonel’s permission to walk about the neighbourhood alone. After the events he related to me yesterday, he shut up his house in county Clare and settled on the other side of the river, in the small house at Ballinacourty, which he rented from a friend, and which is situated in county Limerick. He has therefore no interest in this district, and up to a certain point this takes him out of the category of landlords, and places him amongst the strangers. Consequently the Land League leaves him quite alone, and his relations with the country people are comparatively good. Yesterday we went out for a short time with a neighbouring landlord, and I noticed that whilst he was with us not one of the peasants whom we met saluted us, but when we were alone they all bowed to us, and some of them even greeted us with a few friendly words.