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diff --git a/old/69993-0.txt b/old/69993-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 42168df..0000000 --- a/old/69993-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8139 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ireland's disease, by Philippe Daryl - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Ireland's disease - -Author: Philippe Daryl - -Release Date: February 9, 2023 [eBook #69993] - -Language: English - -Produced by: deaurider and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRELAND'S DISEASE *** - - - - - - -IRELAND’S DISEASE. - - - - - IRELAND’S DISEASE - - NOTES AND IMPRESSIONS - BY - PHILIPPE DARYL - - _THE AUTHOR’S ENGLISH VERSION_ - - LONDON - GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS - BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL - GLASGOW AND NEW YORK - 1888 - - LONDON - BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -These pages were first published in the shape of letters addressed from -Ireland to _Le Temps_, during the summer months of 1886 and 1887. - -A few extracts from those letters having found their way to the columns -of the leading British papers, they became the occasion of somewhat -premature, and, it seemed to the author, somewhat unfair conclusions, as -to their general purport and bearing. - -A fiery correspondent of a London evening paper, in particular, who -boldly signed “J. J. M.” for his name, went so far as to denounce the -author as “an ally of the _Times_, in the congenial task of vilifying the -Irish people by grotesque and ridiculous caricatures,” which charge was -then summarily met as follows:— - - _To the Editor of the PALL MALL GAZETTE._ - - SIR,— - - Let me hope, for the sake of “J. J. M.’s” mental condition, - that he never set eyes upon my Irish sketches in _Le Temps_, - about which he volunteers an opinion. If, however, he has - actually seen my prose in the flesh, and he still clings to his - hobby that I am hostile to the Irish cause or unsympathetic - with the Irish race, why then I can only urge upon his friends - the advisability of a strait waistcoat, a brace of mad doctors, - and an early berth in a lunatic asylum. I never heard in my - life of a sadder case of raving delusion. - - Yours obediently, - - PHILIPPE DARYL. - - PARIS, _September 18, 1887_. - -Thus ended the controversy. There was no reply. - -Allowance should be made, of course, for the natural sensitiveness of -Irishmen on everything that relates to their noble and unhappy country. -But, what! Do they entertain, for one moment, the idea that everything is -right and normal in it? In that case there can be no cause of complaint -for them, and things ought to remain as they are. All right-minded people -will understand, on the contrary, that the redress of Irish wrongs can -only come out of a sincere and assiduous exposure of the real state of -affairs, which is not healthy but pathological, and, as such, manifests -itself by peculiar symptoms. - -However it may be, a natural though perhaps morbid desire of submitting -the case to the English-reading public was the consequence of those -exceedingly brief and abortive polemics. - -The Author was already engaged in the not over-congenial task of putting -his own French into English, or what he hoped might do duty as such, when -Messrs. George Routledge & Sons, the London publishers of his _Public -Life in England_, kindly proposed to introduce _Ireland’s Disease_ to -British society. The offer was heartily accepted, and so it came to pass -that the English version is to appear in book form on the same day as the -French one. - -The special conditions of the case made it, of course, a duty to the -author to strictly retain in his text every line that he had written -down in the first instance, however little palatable it might prove to -some English readers and fatal to his own literary or other prospects -in England. That should be his excuse for sticking desperately to -words which, like Tauchnitz editions, were not originally intended for -circulation in Great Britain. - - PH. D. - -PARIS, _Nov. 10th, 1887_. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTION 1 - - CHAPTER I. - - FIRST SENSATIONS 5 - - CHAPTER II. - - DUBLIN LIFE 17 - - CHAPTER III. - - THE POOR OF DUBLIN 31 - - CHAPTER IV. - - THE EMERALD ISLE 46 - - CHAPTER V. - - THE RACE 60 - - CHAPTER VI. - - HISTORICAL GRIEVANCES 76 - - CHAPTER VII. - - KILLARNEY 96 - - CHAPTER VIII. - - THROUGH KERRY ON HORSEBACK 109 - - CHAPTER IX. - - A KERRY FARMER’S BUDGET 139 - - CHAPTER X. - - RURAL PHYSIOLOGY 157 - - CHAPTER XI. - - EMIGRATION 177 - - CHAPTER XII. - - THE LEAGUE 197 - - CHAPTER XIII. - - THE CLERGY 215 - - CHAPTER XIV. - - FORT SAUNDERS 234 - - CHAPTER XV. - - THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 256 - - CHAPTER XVI. - - SCOTTISH IRELAND 271 - - CHAPTER XVII. - - LEX LICINIA 296 - - I.—The Gladstone Scheme 309 - - II.—An Outsider’s Suggestion 313 - - APPENDIX 331 - - - - -IRELAND’S DISEASE. - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - - -It is indeed a chronic and constitutional disease that Ireland is -labouring under. Twice within the last fifteen months it has been my -fortune to visit the Sister Isle; first in the summer of 1886, at the -apparently decisive hour when the die of her destiny was being cast in -the ballot-box, and her children seemed on the point of starting upon a -new life; then again, twelve months after, in the summer of 1887, when I -found her a prey to the very same local disorders and to the same general -anxiety that I had previously observed. - -Last year it looked as if the solution was nigh, if Mr. Gladstone’s -spirited eloquence was going to carry the English nation along with -it. The seasons, however, have followed one another in due course, -bringing with them the usual run of unpaid rent, eviction, and reciprocal -violence; a new Crimes Act has been added to the long record of similar -measures that the British Parliament has scored against Ireland in -eighty-seven years of so-called Union; a few cabins have disappeared, -have been unroofed or burnt down by the arm of the bailiff; a few more -skulls have been broken; some hundred thousand more wretched beings have -embarked in emigrant ships for the United States or Queensland; some -more hunger-stricken women and children have swollen the list of obscure -victims that green Erin annually pays to the Anglo-Saxon Minotaur. But -nothing essential is altered. Things are in the same places and passions -at the same pitch. The two nations are facing each other with defiance in -their eyes, threats in their mouths, revolvers or dynamite in hand. The -problem has not advanced one step. Social war is still there, filling the -hearts, paralysing the action, poisoning the springs of life. It may be -read in the alarmed looks of mothers, in the sullen faces of men; it is -lurking behind every hedge. - -Before such an unparalleled case of a whole race’s physiological misery, -how could one help being seized with an ardent curiosity mingled with -pity? Who would not wish to plunge to the bottom of the matter, to make -out, if possible, the secret of the evil, to deduce from it a lesson, -and, may be, a general law? - -That want I have felt most deeply, and I have tried to gratify it by -personal observation; looking at things through my own spectacles, -without animus or hatred, passion or prejudice, as they came under my -gaze; noting down what seemed to be characteristic; above all, avoiding -like poison the contact of the professional politician on either side: -then drawing my own conclusion. - -I need hardly add that for the intelligence of what I saw, I have always -availed myself of the printed sources of information, such as the -standard works on Irish history, Black’s excellent _Guide to Ireland_, -the Parliamentary Reports, the national literature, and last but not -least the graphic accounts of current events published by the English and -native press. Of the _Pall Mall Gazette_, especially, I must state that -I have found its files a mine of precise, well digested, and thoroughly -reliable information on the subject. - -That my studies are above correction, I will not venture to hope. That -they are in every case founded on facts, and, to the best of my belief, -accurate, I earnestly vouch. As far as possible, I have made a point -of giving the names of the persons mentioned. When it might have been -inconvenient to them, however, or when delicacy forbade such a liberty, -I have either suppressed the name or substituted a fictitious one. It -should be understood that what I wanted, as a total stranger in the -country, and what my French readers wanted, were not personal but typical -instances. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -FIRST SENSATIONS. - - - DUBLIN. - -Hardly have you set foot on the quay at Kingstown, than you feel on -an altogether different ground from England. Between Dover and Calais -the contrast is not more striking. Kingstown is a pretty little place, -whose harbour is used by the steamers from Holyhead, and whither Dublin -shopkeepers resort in summer. Half a century back, it was only a -fishermen’s village of the most rudimentary description. But George IV., -late Prince Regent, having done that promontory the honour to embark -there when leaving Ireland, the place became the fashion. In memory of -the glorious event, the citizens of Dublin raised on that spot a pyramid -which rests on four cannon balls, and bears on its top the royal crown -with the names of all the engineers, architects, captains, and harbour -officials who had anything to do with the business. Villas soon sprang up -round it, and from that time Kingstown went on thriving. A splendid pier -bent round upon itself like a forearm on its humerus, makes it the safest -harbour in Ireland, and the railway puts it in communication with Dublin -in twenty minutes. It is the Portici of a bay that could vie with the -Bay of Naples, did it boast its Vesuvius and sun, and did not the shoals -which form its bottom get often bare and dry at low tide. - -You land then at Kingstown, early in the morning after a four hours’ -crossing, having started the evening before by the express from Euston -Station. And immediately you feel that you are no longer in England. The -language is the same, no doubt, though talked with a peculiar accent or -_brogue_. The custom-house officers are English; so are the policemen -and redcoats who air themselves on the quay; but the general type is no -longer English, and the manners are still less so. Loud talk, violent -gesticulation, jokes and laughter everywhere; brown hair, sparkling dark -eyes: you could imagine you are at Bordeaux or at Nantes. - -The guard who asks for your ticket, the very train you get in, have -something peculiar, undefinable, thoroughly un-English. The old lame -newspaper-man who hands you _The Irish Times_ or the _Freeman’s Journal_ -at the carriage-door, indulges witticisms while giving you back your -change, which not one of Mr. Smith’s well-conducted lads ever permits -himself along a British line. As for the passengers they are more -un-English than anything else. This lady with the olive complexion and -brown hair, may be termed an English subject; but for all that she -has not probably one globule of Anglo-Saxon blood in her veins. That -gentleman in the grey suit has evidently an English tailor, but the -flesh-and-bone lining of his coat is of an altogether different make. As -for the little man in black who is curling himself cosily in the corner -opposite to you, not only is he unmistakeably a Roman Catholic priest, -but you must positively hear him talk, to give up the idea that he is a -Breton just out of the Saint Brieux Seminary. High cheek-bones, bilious -complexion, small tobacco-coloured eyes, lank hair, nothing is missing -from the likeness. - -Here is Dublin. The train takes us to the very heart of the town, and -there stops between a pretty public garden and the banks of the Liffey. -The weather is cool and clear. Inside the station cabs and cars are -waiting for travellers and their luggage. _Waiting_, not contending -eagerly for their patronage as they do in London, where any possible -customer is quickly surrounded by half-a-dozen rival drivers. “_Hansom, -sir?... Hansom, sir?_” The Dublin cabman is more indolent. He keeps -dozing on his seat or leisurely gossiping with his mates. “Why trouble -oneself for nothing? The traveller knows how to call for a cab, I -suppose!” So speaks the whole attitude of these philosophers in the -Billycock hats. - -This, however, will not prevent their being as unscrupulous as any of -their fellow-drivers in any part of the globe, when it comes to settling -the fare. “How much?” “Five bob.” On verification you find that two -shillings is all the rogue is entitled to. You give the two shillings, he -pockets them and rattles away laughing. The job was a failure; no more. - - * * * * * - -Dublin is a big city, thickly populated, crossed by wide thoroughfares, -provided with fine public gardens and splendid parks, which are here -called _greens_, and adorned with an extraordinary number of statues. -Its traffic and industry are important: visibly, this is a capital. More -than a capital; the focus of a nationality. Everything in the streets -proclaims it: sign-boards, monuments, countenances, manners. Those marble -statues you see at every step are the effigies of the patriots who -fought for the rights of Ireland. That palace with the noble colonnade, -in the heart and finest part of the town, is the very building where -the Irish Parliament, abolished in 1800 by the Act of Union, held its -assemblies. Now-a-days the Bank directors meet in the room where once met -the representatives of the nation. But they seem to have been careful -not to change anything in the general arrangement, in case it was wanted -to-morrow for some _Assemblée Constituante_. You may enter it: the -door is open for every one. On the right you see what was the House of -Lords, a rectangular hall with an open ceiling, historic hangings, and -the statue of some royalties. On the left, the House of Commons. Here, -mahogany counters stand in place of the members benches, and where -sounded once the clash of argument, you hear now the tinkling of gold -coins. - -Let old times come again; let Westminster give back to the Sister-Isle -the autonomy she mourns, and, as a stage machinery, the Bank will vanish -before the Parliament. It will be an affair of a night’s work for the -upholsterers. - -In front of that building, which is the City Hall, it is not the British -flag (though perhaps the law should insist upon it) that is hanging -aloft. It is the green flag of Erin with the harp and the three towers. -Everywhere there are calls on the national feeling. _Hibernian House_, -_Hibernian Hotel_, _Erin Stores_, _Irish poplins_, _Irish gloves_, -_Irish whisky_. Above all Irish whisky! one could not get comfortably -drunk with Scotch whisky, that is evident. - -If you visit a museum or picture-gallery you will find Art exiled in the -background, and patriotism shining to the fore. Bating a fine Giorgione, -a valuable Potter, a Van Steen of large size and extraordinary quality, -a rare Cornelius Béga and a few others, the collection is not worth -much, and would not fetch its million francs at the _Hotel des Ventes_, -in the Rue Drouot. It is only a pretext for a national collection of -portraits where are represented all the glories of Ireland, from Jonathan -Swift, Laurence Sterne, Steele, Sheridan, Edmund Burke to Moore, Lord -Edward Fitzgerald, the Duke of Wellington, and above all, O’Connell, -“the liberator;” and Henry Grattan, esquire, “true representative of the -people, father of liberty, author of the emancipation.” - -Those things take hold of you as soon as you arrive at Dublin. Like a -flash of lightning they bring light upon many things about _Home Rule_ -which had remained hazy to your continental heedlessness. A nation with -such memories kept up with such jealous care must know what it wants, and -will have it in the end. Such signs are the manifestation of a national -soul, of a distinct personality in the great human family. When all, -from alderman to beggar, have one sole aim, they are bound to reach it -sooner or later. Here, if the Town Hall has its green flag, the urchin -in the street has his sugarplum, shaped into the effigy of Parnell or -Gladstone. Never, since the Venice and the Lombardy of 1859, was there -such a passionate outburst of national feeling. - -In the central part of the town, several streets are really fine with -their rows of large houses, their gorgeous shops and numberless statues. -The women are generally good-looking; well built, well gloved, well -shod. They move gracefully, and with a vivacity which is quite southern. -They look gentle and modest, and dress almost as well as Frenchwomen, of -whom they have the quiet grace. The youngest ones wear their brown hair -floating behind, and that hair, fine in the extreme, made more supple by -the moistness of an insular climate, is crossed now and then by a most -lovely glimmer of golden light. - -Most of the men have acquired the significant habit of carrying large -knotty cudgels in place of walking sticks. Other signs show a state of -latent crisis, a sort of momentary truce between classes: for instance, -the abundance of personal weapons, pneumatic rifles, pocket revolvers, -&c., which are to be seen in the armourers’ shop windows. - -But what gives the principal streets of Dublin their peculiar character -is the perpetual presence at every hour of the day of long rows of -loiterers, which only one word could describe, and that is _lazzaroni_. -As in Naples they stop there by hundreds; some in a sitting posture, or -stretched at full length on the bare stone, others standing with their -backs to the wall, all staring vaguely in front of them, doing nothing, -hardly saying more, mesmerised by a sort of passive contemplation, and -absorbed in the dull voluptuousness of inaction. - -What do they live upon? When do they eat? Where do they sleep? Mystery. -They probably accept now and then some occasional job which may bring -them a sixpence. At such times they disappear and are mixed among the -laborious population; you don’t notice them. But their normal function is -to be idle, to hem as a human fringe the public monuments. - -Some places they seem to affect particularly; Nelson’s Pillar amongst -others. Whenever you pass it you are sure to see four rows of loungers -seated on the pedestal, with legs dangling, pressed against each other -like sardines. - -Numerous tramcars, light and quick, cross Dublin in all directions. Five -or six railway stations are the heads of so many iron lines radiating -fan-wise over Ireland. All bear their national stamp; but what possesses -that character in the highest degree is that airy vehicle called a -jaunting-car. - -Imagine a pleasure car where the seats, instead of being perpendicular to -the shafts, are parallel with them, disposed back to back and perched on -two very high wheels. You climb to your place under difficulties; then -the driver seated sideways like you (unless the number of travellers -obliges him to assume the rational position), lashes his horse, which -plunges straightway into a mad career. - -This style of locomotion rather startles you at first, not only on -account of its novelty, but also by reason of the indifferent equilibrium -you are able to maintain. Jostled over the pavement, threatened -every moment to see yourself projected into space, at a tangent, you -involuntarily grasp the nickel handle which is there for that purpose, -just as a tyro horseman instinctively clutches the mane of his steed. But -one gets used in time to the Irish car, and even comes to like it. First, -it goes at breakneck speed, which is not without its charm; then you have -no time to be bored, considering that the care of preserving your neck -gives you plenty of occupation; lastly, you have the satisfaction of -facing constantly the shop windows and foot paths against which you are -likely to be tossed at any moment. Those are serious advantages, which -other countries’ cabs do not offer. To be candid, they are unaccompanied -by other merits. - - * * * * * - -In that equipage you go to the Phœnix Park, the Dublin “Bois de -Boulogne.” It is a wide timbered expanse of some two thousand acres, -full of tame deer, where all that is young in the place may be seen -flirting, cricketing, playing all sorts of games, but above all, -bicycling. Bicycles seem to be the ruling passion of the Dublin youth. -I have seen more than a hundred at a time in a single lane near the -Wellington Obelisk. By the way, this was the very avenue where Lord -Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke were murdered five years ago by the -_Invincibles_. A cross marks the place where the two corpses were -discovered. - -The Castle, which the two English officials had the imprudence to leave -that day, is the Lord-Lieutenant’s official residence. It has not the -picturesque majesty of the castles of Edinburgh or Stirling. Instead of -rising proudly on some cloud-ascending rock and lording over the town, it -seems to hide “its diminished head” under a little hillock in the central -quarters. You must literally stumble over its walls to become aware of -their existence; and you understand then why the name of _Dublin Castle_ -is for the Irish synonymous with despotism and oppression. - -This is no Government office of the ordinary type, the dwelling of the -Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland is a regular stronghold, encircled with -ramparts, bristling with towers, shut up with portcullis, draw-bridge and -iron bars. In the inner Castle yard are situated the apartments of the -pro-consul, the lodgings of his dependants of all degrees, the offices -where decrees are engrossed, the pigeon-holes where they are heaped, all -forming a sort of separate city entrenched within its fortifications. - -A very gem is the Royal Chapel, with its marvellous oak wainscoting, -which twenty generations of carvers have concurred to elaborate. -The reception-rooms, the hall of the Order of St. Patrick, where -_drawing-rooms_ are held, form the kernel of the fortress. - -The barracks of the English soldiers and of those giant constables whom -you see about the town are also fortified with walls, and form a line of -detached forts round the central stronghold. - -England is encamped at Dublin, with loaded guns and levelled rifles, even -as she is encamped at Gibraltar, in Egypt, and in India. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -DUBLIN LIFE. - - -As there is little aristocracy in Dublin there are few lordly dwellings -besides the Vice-regal castle. This is very striking in this country of -lords and serfs. The masters of the land, mostly of English origin, do -not care at all to live in the capital of Ireland; all the time that they -do not spend on their property they prefer to beguile away in London, -Paris, Naples or elsewhere. Few of their tradesmen are Irish; and the -greatest part of the rents they raise on their lands merely accumulate in -the banks of Dublin to be afterwards spent on the foreign markets. Thence -this consequence, which explains many things:—The clearest of the nett -product of the country’s one industry—agricultural industry,—is poured -outside it every year, without having circulated in Ireland, without -having strengthened the local commerce or even invigorated agriculture -itself, without having contributed to the well-being of a single -Irishman. Let us set down this nett product, the Irish aggregate rental, -at its lowest estimate, £8,000,000 per annum, a sum much inferior to the -nominal one, and admit that one-half of it is sent abroad to absentee -landlords. There we have £4,000,000 leaving the island every year without -conferring the slightest benefit to any one of its inhabitants. In ten -years’ time that represents 40 millions sterling; in fifty years, 200 -millions sterling, or five milliards francs, that Ireland has, so to -speak, thrown into the sea, for that is to her the precise equivalent -of such a continuous deperdition of capital.... And this has lasted for -three centuries!...[1] What country would not be worn threadbare by such -usage? What nation could resist it? Which individual, submitting to such -periodical blood-lettings, would not succumb to anæmia? - -This anæmia betrays itself, even in Dublin, by many a symptom. For -example, it is not long before one discovers that the finest shops, in -the seven or eight principal streets, are a mere empty pretence; great -windows displaying all the wares possessed by the merchant and beyond -which the stock is _nil_. Money is so scarce that if you want to exchange -a five pound note, in nine cases out of ten you do not get your right -amount of change in specie. They give you back a quantity of small -Irish banknotes, plus the change in half-crowns and shillings, and that -not without having caused you to wait a long time while the important -transaction was entered in and brought to a termination, and then only by -the united energies of half the neighbourhood. - -There is not in all the city one tolerable _restaurant_ or _café_ where -a stranger can read the papers or obtain a decent beefsteak. The two or -three pretentious taverns that aspire to fulfil that purpose are horrible -dens, where, without the civilized accompaniment of napkins, they give -you slices of cow, tough as leather, which are charged for at Bignon’s -prices. - -Necessity compels you to fall back on the hotels, where they pitilessly -give you the same fare night after night,—salmon and roast beef. The -first day this can be borne, for the Shannon salmon deserves its -reputation; the second day one begins to find it indigestible; the third, -one would like to see all the salmon of Ireland choking the head waiter. -The fourth, one takes the train rather than remain any longer exposed to -this implacable fare.... Vain hope! it pursues you everywhere: on the -shores of Kingstown or those of Blackrock, in the pretty town of Bray, -or at the furthermost end of Wicklow’s lakes. It is impossible to travel -in Ireland without taking a dislike to salmon that will last the term of -your natural life. - -And yet the fresh herrings of the Bay of Dublin are eating fit for the -gods, and the good wives sell them in the streets at three a penny. Do -not hope to taste them, however, unless you do your own marketing, and -insist, with conditional threats, upon having your herrings brought up -for breakfast. You will have a fight to sustain; you will run the risk of -appearing in the eyes of the waiter as a man of no breeding, one who does -not shrink from exhibiting his morbid tastes to the public view. But your -pains and your humiliations will be rewarded by such a dish as is not -often to be met with in this vale of tears and bad cooking. - - * * * * * - -Dublin possesses three theatres, not including the future Opera-House, -for which a site has already been chosen. The Gaiety, the most elegant -of the three, gives musical burlesques that are rather entertaining, -though they come straight from London. But they are acted by Irishmen -and Irishwomen, with all the dash, the brilliancy, the wit of the Celt. -The comic actor of the company neglects nothing to amuse his audience; -extravagant costumes, insane grimaces, jigs danced in brogues, impromptu -verses on the events of the day,—he has any number of tricks at his -command. That gentleman would score a sure success at the _Concert des -Ambassadeurs_, with the ditty that actually delights the hearts of the -Dublin public—“_That’s all_;” it is about as stupid as the general -literature of the Champs Elysées. The accomplished and fascinating _corps -de ballet_ exhibit tights of such indiscretion as the Lord Chamberlain -would assuredly not tolerate in London. Is it that his jurisdiction does -not extend to the sister isle; or does the thing which would imperil the -virtue of club-loungers in Pall Mall appear to him without danger for -those of Kildare Street? The problem would be worth studying. However -that be, a boxfull of young officers in H. B. M.’s service seem greatly -exhilarated by the display of ankles of the ladies, unless it be by the -port wine of the mess. - -These officers, in plain clothes as they are always when out of duty, -are nevertheless easy to recognise and seem about the only _swells_ -visible in the boxes. The rest of the audience manifestly belong to the -commercial and working classes. - -For it is a fact that there is in Dublin no more upper middle class than -there is aristocracy. The upper middle class seem not to exist, or to -be only represented by tradespeople, the liberal professions, or the -students. But these young men being, after the excellent English custom, -lodged at the University, do not count in the pleasure-seeking public. -In other words, they spend the evening in their rooms drinking toddy, -instead of spending it, as with us, drinking small-beer in _brasseries_. - - * * * * * - -The University of Dublin, or rather, to speak more exactly, Trinity -College, rises opposite Grattan’s Parliament, in the very heart of the -town. It is an agglomeration of buildings of sufficiently good style, -separated by spacious courts, and surrounded by about thirty acres of -ground planted with ancient trees. Technical museums, lecture-rooms, -refectories, rooms for the Fellows and the pupils are all to be found -there. There is a Section of Theology, one for Letters and Science, a -Musical Section, a School of Medicine, a Law School, an Engineering -School. Students and Masters all wear, as in Oxford or Cambridge, the -stuff gown and the kind of black _Schapska_, which is the University -head-covering throughout the United Kingdom. - -Thinking of this, why is it we see so many Eastern head-dresses in the -school of the west? With us the cap of the professors is the same that -Russian popes wear. The Anglo-Saxons take theirs from Polish Lancers. -That is an anomaly in the history of dress which ought to attract the -meditations of academies. - -Another anomaly, peculiar to Trinity College, is that the porters (most -polite and benevolent of men) are provided with black velvet jockey -caps, like the Yeomen of the Queen. They take the visitors through the -museums of the place, and show them the plaster cast taken from the dead -face of Swift, the harp of Brian Boru, and other relics of a more or -less authentic character. The Dining Hall is ornamented with full-length -portraits of the local celebrities. The library, one of the finest in the -world, is proud of possessing, among many other riches, the manuscript -(in the Erse tongue), of the “Seven times fifty Stories,” which the bards -of the Second Order of Druids used to recite, on ancient feast days, -before the assembled kings and chieftains. Those venerable tales are -subdivided into Destructions, Massacres, Battles, Invasions, Sieges, -Pillages, Raids of Cattle, Rapes of Women, Loves, Marriages, Exiles, -Navigations, Marches, Voyages, Grottoes, Visions, Pomps, and Tragedies. -This shows that “documentary literature” was not invented yesterday: all -the primitive life of Celtic Ireland is told there. - - * * * * * - -The undergraduates at Trinity College do not seem, as a rule, like those -of Oxford and Cambridge, to belong to the privileged or unoccupied -classes. They are embryo doctors, professors, or engineers, who work -with all their might to gain one of the numerous scholarships given by -competition at the University. These competitions evidently excite an -ardent emulation. I chanced to pass before the Examination Hall at the -moment when the Rector at the top of the steps proclaimed the name of -the candidate who had just won the Fellowship. Five hundred students at -least, grouped at the gate, had been waiting for an hour to hear it, and -saluted it with frantic cheers. - -The Fellowship gives a right to board and lodging for seven years, with a -stipend of some £400. It is a kind of prebend that implies few duties and -leaves the titulary free to give himself up to his favourite studies. It -has been the fashion in a certain set in France to go into ecstasies over -this institution, and to regret that it should not have entered our own -customs. The life of a Fellow at Oxford, Cambridge, or Dublin, was fondly -represented to us as an ideal existence, freed from material cares, -devoted exclusively to the culture of the mind. If we look at things more -closely, we shall see that this opinion is wide of the mark. We find some -of the prebendaries poorly lodged enough, submitted, by the exigencies of -life in a community, to many a puerile rule, imprisoned within the narrow -circle of scholastic ideas, and in too many cases buried up to the eyes -in the sands of routine, if not in sloth, or drunkenness. - -After all, for what strong, manly work is the world indebted to these -much-praised Fellows?... The true effort of science or letters was never -brought forth in these abbeys of Thelema of pedantry. Indeed it is much -sooner born of individual struggle and large contact with the outside -world. Even in the English Universities there is now a marked tendency -to demand from the Fellow a work of positive utility in exchange for -his salary. He must take his part in educating the pupils, help in the -examinations, and in elaborating programmes; his life is much the same -as that of our _Agrégés de Facultés_, with a something in it of lesser -freedom and a semi-priestly character, if he be a bachelor. But he is -free to marry now, and has been for a few years, on condition that he -lives outside the college buildings. - -The students, fourteen hundred in number, live two by two, in rooms of -extreme simplicity, which they are at liberty to decorate according to -their taste or means, with carpets, prints, and flowers. The names of -the occupants are written over each door. The rooms generally include -a small ante-chamber and a closet with glass doors. Women of venerable -age and extraordinary ugliness are charged with the care of those young -Cenobites’ abode. - - * * * * * - -Trinity College was founded by Queen Elizabeth when she undertook the -task of Anglicizing Ireland, and it has remained to our own day one of -the strongholds of the conquering race. It is only since the year 1873 -that the chairs and offices of this University have been accessible to -Roman Catholics. Up to that time they were exclusively reserved for -Anglicans, and Mr. Matthew Arnold would exclaim with good reason that -such a state of things was the most scandalous in Europe. In France, -he said, Protestant masters occupied all the chairs to which their -merits entitled them; in Germany, Catholic professors taught history or -philosophy at Bonn and elsewhere; while, in Catholic Ireland, the one -University the country possessed remained closed during two centuries -to all students that were not of the Protestant persuasion, and for -three-quarters of the present century a Catholic could neither attain to -a chair or to any degree of influence in it. - -It was in the year 1845 that the movement began which was to triumph -definitely in 1873, under the initiative of Mr. Gladstone. A certain -Mr. Denis Caulfield Heron went up in that year for the competition -for a fellowship, and took the first place. When he was, according to -custom, invited to sign the Thirty-Nine Articles and to communicate in -the University chapel, he opposed an absolute refusal, declaring himself -to be a Roman Catholic; whereupon he was disqualified by the University -Council. Mr. Heron exposed this judgment before the public, and succeeded -in winning opinion to his side. But it proved an impossibility to make -the Council recall their decision. The only thing Mr. Heron obtained, -after a protracted struggle, was the creation of a new class of -fellowships, accessible to Roman Catholics. - -Finally, in 1873 the College authorities at last made up their minds to -render the offices and emoluments of the University independent of any -sectarian denomination; nevertheless the Anglican spirit remains alive -within its precincts, and manifests itself in the clearest manner upon -occasions. - - * * * * * - -Intellectual life is alive in Dublin, as many a learned or literary -society, a flourishing review, four great daily and several weekly -papers, can testify. The daily papers especially are edited with a spirit -and humour truly characteristic. It is a well known fact that the Sister -Isle contributes a third at least to the recruiting of the Anglo-Saxon -press, not only in Great Britain, but in the United States, in Australia, -and in the whole of the English speaking world. The Irishman a writer or -a soldier born, as the Englishman is a born shopkeeper. The consequence -is that the great papers in Dublin, the _Freeman’s Journal_, the _Irish -Times_, _United Ireland_, the _Express_, the _Evening Telegraph_, are -admirably edited each in its own line. - -But the same thing can hardly be said of the illustrated and coloured -sheets that accompany the weeklies, and which are placarded everywhere. -Those prints, bearing upon the political topics of the day, may possess -the merit of teaching the crowd the lesson to be drawn from events; but -they are lamentably inefficient from an artistic point of view. - -Ireland, decidedly, shines no more than does our own Brittany in the -plastic arts. Her best painter has been Maclise, and he is by no means a -great master. However, her coloured prints delight the hearts of the good -people of Dublin. An old newspaper-seller, smoking her pipe at the corner -of Leinster Street, holds her sides for very laughter as she contemplates -the cartoon given this day by the _Weekly News_; it represents a mob -of Orangemen in the act of pelting the Queen’s police with stones at -Belfast. Underneath run the words: “_Behold loyal Ulster!_” - - * * * * * - -The quays of the Liffey are lined with book-shops like those of the -Seine in Paris, to which they present a certain likeness. Following the -quays from the west, one passes the building where sit the four Supreme -Courts—Chancery, Exchequer, Queen’s Bench, and Common Pleas. The statues -of Faith, Justice, Wisdom, and Piety rise under its Corinthian peristyle, -which caused the typical Irish peasant, the Paddy of legend, to exclaim: - -“They did well to place them outside, for no one will ever meet them -inside!” - -The judges, chosen by the Queen’s government, bear the title of _Chief -Justice_ or _Baron_. There are four at each tribunal, each provided with -a salary ranging from three to eight thousand pounds a year. They sit in -groups of three, bewigged and clad in violet gowns, with peach-coloured -facings, at the extremity of a recess screened by red curtains. Before -them sit the barristers and clerks in black gowns and horsehair wigs. -The writs and briefs of procedure, written out upon awe-inspiring sheets -of foolscap paper, are piled up within capacious green bags, such as -are only seen with us at the Comédie Française when they play _Les -Plaideurs_. The judges appear to be a prey to overwhelming _ennui_, so -do the barristers. The public, not being paid as highly as they are for -remaining in this sleepy atmosphere, keep constantly going in and out. -Now and then, however, Irish wit must have its due: some one delivers -himself of a spicy remark; everyone wakes up a bit to laugh, after which -business quietly resumes its dull course. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE POOR OF DUBLIN. - - -Private houses are built in Dublin on the general type adopted throughout -the British Isles: a basement opening on the railed area which runs -along the pavement, a ground floor, a first floor, sometimes a second -one. Above the front door a pane of glass lighted with gas. It is the -custom of the country to place there one’s artistic treasures,—a china -vase, a bust, or a small plaster horse. The small horse especially is a -great favourite. You see it in a thousand copies which all came out of -the same cast. In the suburbs you notice pretty often a window decorated -with plants that are seen behind the glass panes,—Breton fashion,—and, -striking circumstance, in Ireland also it is the uninteresting geranium -which is the favourite flower of the poor. Inside the house the -accommodation is nearly the same as in England. It is well known that -nothing is more like an English house than another English house. But -here, to the classical furniture, horse-hair and mahogany armchairs, and -oil-cloth floor, is added a mural decoration of coloured prints and Roman -Catholic chromolithographs, Saint Patrick, the Pope Leo XIII., the “Good -Shepherd giving His life for the sheep,” surrounded by dried branches of -holy palm, rosaries and scapularies. An ornament greatly appreciated on -the chimney-piece is a glass vessel full of miraculous water in which -swims a reduction of the tools of the Passion, the cross, the ladder, the -hammer, the nails, and the crown of thorns. - -Eighty-seven per cent. of the Dublin population belong to the Roman -Catholic religion. The proportion is higher in some other Irish counties: -in Connaught it rises to ninety-five per cent.; nowhere, even in -Protestant Ulster, does it descend lower than forty-five per cent. - -And those Catholics are not so only in name. The greater number follow -the services of the Church, observe all the rites, maintain a direct -and constant intercourse with the priests. The sincerity of their faith -is particularly striking, and is not to be found in the same degree -even in Italy or in Spain. For with them the Roman faith is narrowly -bound with traditions most dear to their race; it remains one of the -external forms of protestation against the conquest, and has been, till -quite lately, a stigma of political incapacity. To the glamour of the -traditional religion is added the poetry of persecution and the rancour -of the vanquished. This religion is the one that is not professed by -the hated Englishman: what a reason to love it above all the others! We -must remember that in Dublin, amidst a population nine-tenths of which -are devout Catholics, and where the remaining tenth is alone Protestant -(Episcopalian’ Presbyterian, Methodist, &c.), the cathedral is in the -hands of the Anglican minority with all the ancient basilics, whilst the -worship of the majority is sheltered in modern and vulgar buildings. -The conquering race has invaded Saint Patrick’s Baptistery as well as -the Royal Castle, and the Senate of the University. A threefold reason -for rancour to these who were thus deprived of the three sanctuaries of -faith, public power, and learning. - -Such spoliations are those which a vanquished race cannot forget, because -they bring constantly their sore under their eyes. Now the Irish have the -artless vanity of the chivalrous races, and the wounds inflicted to their -self-love are perhaps more cruel than the others. - -This vanity is frequently exhibited in a certain taste for show, and in -a slight touch of the mountebank. The least apothecary’s shop in Dublin -goes by the pompous name of _Medical Hall_; the smallest free school is -an academy; and it is well known that every single Irishman is descended -straight from the “ould kings of Oireland.” - - * * * * * - -There is a great deal of misery in Dublin; 6,036 of her inhabitants are -inmates of the workhouse; 4,281 are the recipients of outdoor relief; -19,332 are without a known trade or profession and without means of -living. It makes about 30,000 paupers in a town of 250,000 inhabitants. -Besides those officially recognised paupers, how many others whose -distress is no less terrible for not being classed! - -I had the first sight of that misery on the quay of the Liffey. It was a -dishevelled woman walking as in a trance, her eyes settled, immoveable. -Barefooted, dressed in a yellowish tattered shawl which hardly covered -her withered breast, and in a horrible nondescript silk petticoat once -black, through which her thighs appeared. She was pale and silent, and -she seemed to be lost in some unutterable grief. I spoke to her—she did -not answer. I put a piece of money in her hand, she took it without a -word, without even looking at it. She went her way. - -I thought I had seen the ghost of the _Shan Van Vocht_, “The Poor Old -Woman,” as the Irish sorrowfully call their country. She went with long -strides towards the police court—a new building, not far from Richmond -Bridge. I went in after her. - -In the courtyard, groups of beings with human faces were crouching on -the ground—so black, so dirty, so tattered were they, that they made -me think of the Australian aborigines and Fuegian savages, of the most -unenlightened and degraded tribes of the globe. Most of them bore -outwardly the semblance of women. The males were standing with their -backs against the wall in that listless attitude of the “unemployed” in -Dublin. - - * * * * * - -An ill-kept staircase leads to the audience room. The walls are -whitewashed, the ceiling a skylight, white wooden benches round the room. - -In the chair, the police judge; he is a yellow-haired man with a -benevolent countenance, dressed in a frock coat. Clerks and counsel are -alike gownless and wigless; everything is conducted in a homely manner. -The accused follow each other in single file. The witness (nearly always -a constable) states what he has seen. The judge asks the delinquent if -he has anything to say in his defence, and after a quick colloquy he -pronounces his sentence. Generally it is a fine of two or three shillings -or a day’s imprisonment for each unpaid shilling. - -One of the prisoners has just been condemned to pay a fine of half a -crown for obvious drunkenness; he does not possess a farthing, but seems -to be endowed with a humorous turn of mind. - -“Your honour could as well have said half a sovereign! It would have -looked more respectable, and the result would have been the same,” he -says, turning his pockets inside out. A guffaw of laughter joined in by -the judge himself, who does not think it his duty to be offended by the -remark; after which he calls out for number two. - -Number two is a boy fifteen or sixteen years old; he has a sweet -intelligent countenance in spite of the indescribable rags that cover his -body. Tears stand in his eyes and his lips are tremulous. Nothing in him -of the habitual offender. The accusation that he is lying under seems to -be: “Theft of a pork-chop in an open shop-window.” A single witness is -called, a little maid five years old; so small that her head does not -even reach the top of the witness-box. They bring her a footstool, on -which she climbs to give her evidence. - -She has seen the boy, she says, near the shop window, looking wistfully -for a long time on the chops and finally pocketing one. However, her -account is not very clear. All those people make her shy, and she does -not speak out loud, so the clerk takes the trouble to read over to her -the evidence she has just given. Does she know how to write? Can she -sign her name? Yes. They place a pen in her fingers, and with infinite -trouble, bending her small fair head, shooting out her lips, she writes -on the legal parchment with her tiny trembling hand her name and surname: -_Maggie Flanagan_. - -“Well! prisoner, what have you to say?” - -The unfortunate boy stammers that he was hungry, that there was not a -penny in the house, and that he had no work. - -“What is your father’s trade?” - -“He is gone to Australia, your honour. Mother has been left with four -children. I am the eldest. We had eaten nothing for two days.” - -One feels he is speaking the truth. Every heart is moved. - -Suddenly a shrill voice bursts out from the lower end of the room, -wailing: “Oh, your honour, don’t send him to jail!...” - -It is the woman I saw on the quay; the one that I followed to that -Purgatory. The mother of the culprit very likely. - -“I am obliged to remand you for a week in order to examine the -circumstances of the case,” the judge says, in a manner that shows he is -anxious to arrange the affair with kindness. - -The prisoner goes out of the dock following the warder, and disappears -through a small side door. - -The mother has gone away without waiting, and I hurry to follow her. But -she walks so fast that I can hardly keep pace with her. - -She passes again on the bridge, walks along the quay, plunges in a -by-street, goes up towards the south-western quarters of Dublin, called -the _liberties_ of the town. Suddenly I lose sight of her at the corner -of a narrow lane, and after winding round and round I am obliged to -renounce coming up with her. There is a way of course to come to the -relief of those poor creatures, by sending one’s subscription to the -judge according to the British fashion. But I wanted to see them at home -in their den, wallowing in their squalor, to see whether men or destiny -bear the responsibility for such dark distress. - -Alas! examples are not wanting, and I have only to cross the first -door that opens before me. Along these lanes yawn dark alleys from -which hundreds of half-naked children are swarming out. All ages are -represented; they are in the most fantastical and unexpected attire. One -has got on breeches fastened under the shoulders by a piece of cord in -lieu of braces; the same is full of holes large enough for his head to go -through. Another has no shirt, and trails in the gutter the jagged skirt -of a coat slashed like a doublet, and with only one sleeve left. They are -all of them so extravagantly slovenly that it seems to be a competition -for rags. - -A baby two or three years old strikes me particularly. It is absolutely -naked, and so very, very dirty that dirt has formed a sort of bronzed -skin over his little body, and he is like a juvenile nigger. As he came -into the world so he has remained. Neither soap nor water ever moistened -his skin. He has not even undergone the washing that the mother-cat -applies so industriously with her tongue on her newborn kittens. - -Yet his mother loves him, squalid and black as he is. Just now a cart -passed, and the baby was running under the wheels; the mother sprang out -of her lair with the roar of a tigress, and pounced upon her child, -which she jealously carried away. - -Never in London did I hear such accents. Far from me to hint that English -mothers do not love their babies: but they love them after their own -fashion, without showers of kisses or demonstrative ways. - -And this is the distinctive feature which divides the Irish pariahs from -those of the London East-End. They love each other, and they know how to -put that love into words. Their distress, perhaps deeper than English -poverty, bears not the same hard, selfish character—tenderness and love -are not unknown to them. They try to help and comfort one another in -their misery. Thackeray has remarked it long ago: let an Irishman be -as poor as you like; he will always contrive to find another Irishman -poorer still, whom he will serve and oblige, and make the partaker of his -good or bad luck. And it is absolutely true. That fraternal instinct, so -unknown to the Anglo-Saxon, nay, so contrary to his nature, shows itself -here at every step. - - * * * * * - -But the misery is none the less terrible here; indeed, there are no -adequate words in the dictionary to express it. No description can give -an idea of those nameless dens, sordid, dilapidated stairs, miserable -pieces of furniture, nondescript utensils invariably diverted from their -original destination. And in that lamentable frame, those swarming -families squatting in their filth; the starved look of the mothers under -the tattered shawl that ever covers their heads, the hungry little faces -of their whelps.... - -A sickening smell, recalling that of ill-ventilated hospitals, comes -out of those lairs and suffocating you, almost throws you back. But it -is too late. You have been caught sight of. From all sides visions of -horror are emerging to light, spectres are starting up; old hags that -would have surprised Shakespeare himself, swarm round you, holding out -their hand for a _copper_. The younger women don’t generally come to the -front, not that their wants be less, but they know that coppers are not -inexhaustible, and that the old ones must have the precedence. So they -remain sadly in the background, and then, when you have emptied your -pockets, there is a roar of benedictions fit to rend one’s heart with -shame. They are so fearfully sincere! And how many times do we not throw -to the winds of our caprice what would be sufficient to quench at least -for one moment, the thirst which is raging in that hell! You fly from -that den of horror, wondering whether the most horrible deserts would -not be more merciful to those destitute creatures than the _liberties_ of -the city of Dublin. - - * * * * * - -In your flight you fatally fall upon Nicholas Street, where all those -dark alleys open. This is the way to the cathedral, and the great -commercial artery of this side of the town. If any doubt remained in you -after the insight you had of the houses of the poor in Dublin, about the -way they live, that street alone would give you sufficient information. - -From end to end it is lined with a row of disgusting shops or stalls, -where the refuse of the new and the ancient world seems to have come -for an exhibition. Imagine the most hideous, ragged, repulsive rubbish -in the dust-bins of two capitals, and you will get an idea of that -shop-window display; rank bacon, rotten fish, festering bones, potatoes -in full germination, wormy fruit, dusty crusts, sheep’s hearts, sausages -which remind you of the Siege of Paris, and perhaps come from it; all -that running in garlands or festoons in front of the stalls, or made -into indescribable heaps, is doled out to the customers in diminutive -half-pence morsels. At every turning of the street a public-house with -its dim glass and sticky glutinous door. Now and then a pawnbroker with -the three symbolic brass balls, and every twenty yards a rag and bone -shop. - -The rag and bone trade is extremely active in Dublin, which numbers no -less than 400 shops of that description, according to statistics. And -that is not too many for a population which from times immemorial never -wore a garment that was not second-hand. To a man Ireland dresses on the -_reach-me-down_ system, and wears out the cast-off garments which have -passed on the backs of ten or twelve successive owners. Battered hats, -dilapidated gowns, threadbare coats arrive here by shiploads. When the -whole world has had enough of them, when the Papoo savages and Guinea -niggers have discarded their finery, and declared it to be no longer -serviceable, there are still amateurs to be found for it in Dublin. Hence -the most extraordinary variety, and the wildest incoherence of costume. -Knee-breeches, tail coats, white gowns, cocked hats,—Paddy and his spouse -are ready for anything. So destitute are they of personal property, that -they do not even possess an outline of their own. Their normal get-up -resembles a travesty, and their distress a carnival. - -The main point for them is to have a garment of any description to put -on, since it is a thing understood that one cannot go about naked; and -it does not very much matter after all what is the state of that garment, -as it is so soon to leave their backs to go to the pawnbroker’s. This is -a prominent figure in the daily drama of their wretched existence, the -regulator of their humble exchequer through the coming and going of the -necessaries of life, which they are obliged to part with periodically. - -“You see that pair of hob-nailed shoes?” one of them tells me, “For the -last six months it has come here every Monday regularly and gone every -Saturday. The possessor uses them only on Sundays; on week days he -prefers enjoying his capital....” - -His capital!—one shilling and sixpence, for which he has to pay an -interest of one penny a week; _i.e._, three hundred per cent. a year! - -Usury under all its forms blooms spontaneously on that dung-hill. By the -side of the pawnbroker a _money office_ is almost always to be seen. It -is an English institution, natural in a nation which is bursting with -money, and consequently finds it difficult to make it render 3 or 4 per -cent. What is England if not a colossal bank, which advances money upon -any three given signatures as a security, if they come from people with a -settled dwelling and a regular profession? Well, who would believe it? -Paddy himself is admitted to partake of the onerous benefits of that -credit, provided he work ever so little and be not too hopelessly worn -out. For these small banking houses form a union and let each other know -the state of their accounts. Upon the poor man’s signature accompanied by -those of two of his fellows, five and seven pounds sterling will be lent -to him, to be reimbursed by weekly instalments. But that resource, which -is a powerful help for the strong energetic man, is almost invariably -a cause of distress and ruin to the weak. The borrowed money ebbs out -in worthless expenditure, in the buying of some articles of apparel or -furniture, which soon takes the road to the pawnbroker’s; and the debt -alone remains weighing with all its weight on poor Paddy. It is the last -straw on the camel’s back, and he ends by falling down irremediably under -it. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE EMERALD ISLE. - - -Nothing can be easier than to go from one end to the other of Ireland. -Though her network of railways is not yet complete, great arteries -radiate from Dublin in all directions and allow the island to be -traversed from end to end, whether southward, westward, or northward, -in less than seven or eight hours. The journey from south to north, -following the great axis, is longer and more complicated, for it is -necessary to change lines several times. The circular journey along the -coasts is facilitated by excellent services of open coaches, that go -through the regions not yet penetrated by railways. Lastly, one can, by -following the Shannon, enter by steamboat almost to the very heart of the -country. - -When one has gone through those various excursions, completed by riding -and walking tours, and seen the island under its various aspects, one -perceives that it presents in a general manner the appearance of a -cup, with brims rising towards the sea; in other words, it consists in -a vast central plain, protected on all its circumference by groups of -hills and mountains, preventing the inroad of the ocean. Those mountains -are in no part very high; the finest, those of Kerry, do not rise above -1800 feet. But their very position on the brink of the Atlantic, the -erosions undermining their base, the deep bays they delineate, the -innumerable lakes hidden away in their bosoms, lend them a majesty far -above their altitude. Bland and smiling in Wicklow, they are in Kerry of -an unequalled serenity, while in Connemara they preserve unbroken the -rude chaos of primeval cataclysms, and display on the north of Antrim’s -table-land, towards the Giant’s Causeway, the most stupendous basaltic -formations. - -Yet the normal, the truest aspect of Ireland, is represented by the -central plain—a large, unbroken surface of green undulating waves, ever -bathed in a damp and fresh atmosphere, shut in on the horizon by dark -blue mountains. - -This aspect is of infinite sweetness; no land possesses it in a similar -degree. It takes possession of you, it penetrates you like a caress and -a harmony. One understands, when submitted to that entirely physical -influence, the passionate tenderness that Irishmen feel for their -country, and that is best illustrated by Moore’s poetry. The sky seems -to have endeavoured to find the true chord in response to the earth, in -order to give to all things those deliciously blended tones. The stars -are nearly always seen through a light haze, and the sun itself shines -but through a veil of vapours, into which it seems eager to disappear -again. The shadows are not hard and well defined; they melt into each -other by insensible gradations of tint. All is green, even the stones, -clothed in moss; the walls, covered with ivy; the waters, hidden under -a mantle of reeds and water-lilies. In other climes the fields, after a -spring shower, take unto themselves the bravery that here is seen in all -seasons. In the full heat of July the corn, the barley, the oats still -keep their April dress. Do they ever ripen? They say they do, towards -the end of October; but surely they never can get yellow. Yellow is not -an Irish colour, nor is white. Ireland is indeed green Erin, the Emerald -Isle. Never was name more truly given. - - * * * * * - -One could consider Ireland as a prodigious grass plot of some twenty -million acres, constantly watered by rain. Water is everywhere: in the -clouds that the winds of the Atlantic drive over her, and that the -highlands of Scotland and Norway stop in their course; on the soil, where -all hollows, great or small, become lakes; under the ground even, where -the roots of vegetables, saturated and swollen like sponges, slowly -change into peat. Ireland is the most liberally watered country in -Europe, and yet, thanks to the constancy of the winds over her, one can -scarcely say it is a damp country. The fall of water is on an average of -926 millimetres in a year—a little over three feet. The ground, naturally -of admirable fruitfulness, is still further favoured by the mildness and -equableness of the climate on the shores. - -The flora almost recalls that of the Mediterranean coasts. The fauna -presents the remarkable peculiarity of not possessing a single dangerous -or even repulsive species—not one toad, not one reptile, except the most -innocent among them all, the “friend of man,” the lizard. Legends say -that St. Patrick, the Christian apostle of the isle, coming from Brittany -in the 6th century, threw all the serpents into the sea, and all the -toads after them; indeed, he is habitually represented in popular imagery -as engaged in performing that miracle. - - * * * * * - -An island possessing no backbone, and presenting generally the appearance -of a cup, cannot have great rivers. In fact, almost all the rivers of -Ireland, born within her girdle of mountains, soon lose themselves in the -sea, forming at their mouth an estuary that takes the name of _Lough_, as -do the lakes proper. One only creates an exception by the length of its -course and the volume of its waters—the Shannon, rising in the central -table-land, imprisoned, so to speak, at the bottom of the circular well, -and whose course, impeded above Limerick by a barrier of rocks, form fine -rapids, under which the waters flow in a majestic stream. With the tide, -vessels of the heaviest tonnage can go up the river to Foynes. - - * * * * * - -Indeed, the country lacks no harbours on those deeply indented shores. -North, west, east, and south, Ireland counts no less than fourteen -natural harbours, large enough to shelter whole fleets. - -But this gift, like all the others that Fate has showered on her, seems -to have turned against her by bringing the nations of prey within those -bays. Thrown as an outwork of Europe in the middle of the ocean, she -seemed to be opening her arms to the Phœnicians, to the Scandinavians; -later on to the Arabs, the Spaniards, and the English. A gust of wind -was enough to reveal her to them; a favourable breeze to bring them back. -To understand clearly the perils of such a post, and to see how much more -still than the muzzle of Brittany, Ireland is Atlantic land, one must -go to Valencia, the small islet on which come to shore the ends of the -Transatlantic cables. - -More than in any other spot of Europe one feels at the farthest end of -the world there. It seems as if, by stretching one’s arm, one would reach -the United States. And, in fact, one is near enough as it is—five or six -days by steam—almost within speaking distance with the telephone. So fast -travel the storms from America that the telegram is hardly able to arrive -before them. A sea-gull, borne on the wing of the hurricane, would cross -that arm of the sea in a few hours. The breeze that blows in your face -may have stirred the hair of a Brooklyn belle in the morning. There one -feels how very small is our globe. - - * * * * * - -Geologically, Ireland differs much from Great Britain. The island -appeared much earlier, and its structure is special. Alone, its northern -part, or Ulster, which, from a political point of view, forms such a -striking contrast with the rest of the island, presents between Donegal -Bay and Dundalk Bay, mountainous masses, entirely analogous with those of -Scotland, towards which they advance, and of which they appear originally -to have formed a part. They are basaltic rocks, or petrified streams of -lava, while the mountains in Kerry or Connemara are red sandstone and -slate, lying above the carbonaceous strata. - -What ought, in fact, to be considered as Ireland proper consists, then, -of the eastern province or Leinster, the southern or Munster, and the -western or Connaught. Ulster is in reality, as well by the nature of -its soil as by the race and habits of the majority of its inhabitants, -an annex and dependency of Scotland. The three other provinces, on the -contrary, form a whole, as distinct from England or Scotland by the -constitution and aspect of the land, as it is different by the race, -genius, the traditions and beliefs of the population. - - * * * * * - -The most striking thing on a first sight of the Irish landscape is the -total absence of trees of any kind. They are only seen in private parks. -As far as the eye can see the plains spread in gentle undulations, -covered with grass and intersected with stone walls; no single oak, elm, -or shrub ever comes to break its monotony. The tree has become a lordly -ensign. Wherever one sees it one may be certain the landlord’s mansion is -not far. - -That radical disappearance of the forests, in a country once covered with -them, is singular. A great many explanations have been given of this -fact,—explanations that went back as far as some geological cataclysm. -Such theories are no longer acceptable in these days. The most likely -supposition is that all the available timber has gradually been felled -down for domestic uses, and that indifference, poverty, incessant war, -incertitude as to the present or future, have, from the remotest times, -prevented those sad gaps being repaired. - -On the lower land the absence of timber is explained of itself by -the apparition of deep layers of turf, whose depth is sometimes from -forty-five to sixty feet, in which whole oak trees have been discovered -in a more or less advanced state of carbonisation. At a certain stage of -this transformation the ligneous tissue has become of such flexibility -that the Irish cut it into stripes and use it to make straps, fishing -nets, bands of all kinds,—not to mention the pious trifles, pipes, small -figures carved with a knife, and various _souvenirs_ with which they -pester the tourist. - -The turf pits are a great source of riches for Ireland, and furnish the -only fuel commonly used by the lower classes. In the country one sees -everywhere people engaged in extracting peat, cutting it into cakes, -erecting these cakes in pyramids to be allowed to dry in the sun, or -transporting them from one place to the other. The people working at it -are, indeed, almost the only ones visible in the fields. One might think -that the extracting and manipulating of the turf were the only industry -of the country. - -There are two kinds of turf, the red and the black, according to the -degree of carbonisation attained by the layers, and the nature of the -vegetable matter that formed them. The finest is of such intense and -brilliant black, that it might almost be mistaken for coal. Those vast -reservoirs of fuel, known in Ireland by the name of _bog_, are a constant -feature of the landscape in the valleys of the mountainous girdle as in -the lower parts of the plain. The total depth of these open carbon mines -is estimated at no less than sixty million cubic feet; they occupy an -area almost equal to the seventh part of the total superficies of the -island, and the lakes cover another seventh part. - - * * * * * - -One other striking peculiarity of the scenery in Ireland is the scarcity -of cultivated fields. One can count them, dotted here and there, almost -always planted with oats, potatoes, or turnips. The statistics of the -Agricultural Society give, in round numbers, for twenty millions of acres -of total surface, five millions, or a quarter in cultivated ground; that -is, 150,000 acres only in cereals, 350,000 in turnips, one million and a -half in potatoes, two million in artificial meadows. Ten million of acres -are in natural meadows; the rest are fallow lands, bog or turf, waste -land, roads and highways. - -Those roads and highways, as well as the bridges and all the public -works depending upon the English Government, are admirably kept. It is -clear that on that point Dublin Castle is resolved to give no handle to -criticism. Those splendid tracks of road, laid across waste and desert -land, even produce a curious effect, and one would be tempted to see an -affectation about it, did they not, in the majority of cases, lead to -some magnificent private property, spreading as far as one can see over -hill and dale, always shut in by stone walls eight or ten feet high, -enclosing an area of several miles. - -As for the conveyances that are seen on these Appian Ways they are of -two kinds; either the smart carriage whose cockaded coachman drives -magnificent horses, or the diminutive cart drawn by a small donkey, -carrying, besides the grand-dame or child that drives it, a sort of -conical-shaped utensil held in its place with cords and oftener filled -with water than with milk. One must go to Morocco or Spain to see donkeys -in such numbers as in Ireland. - - * * * * * - -One thing surprises in those endless pastures—it is to count so few -grazing beasts on them. Not that they are altogether excluded; now and -then one perceives on the intense green of the fields reddish or white -spots that are cattle or sheep, the rounded haunch of a mare, the awkward -frolics of a foal. On the brinks of rivers that one can almost always -cross wading, one sometimes sees a few happy cows, their feet in the -water, wide-eyed and munching dreamily. Here and there one sees geese, -hens escorted by their chicks, pigs fraternally wallowing with children -in the muddy ditch. But in a general way the landscape is wanting in -animated life, and as poor in domestic animals as in labourers. - -As a contrast game is plentiful, as is natural in a land that is -three-quarters uncultivated, where it is forbidden to carry arms, and -where shooting is the exclusive privilege of a very small minority. Hares -and rabbits seem to enjoy their immunity to the utmost, and everywhere -their white breeches are seen scudding away in the dewy grass like -fireworks. - - * * * * * - -Villages are rare, and rarer still is farmhouse or homestead. Undulating -ridges succeed to undulating ridges and still one sees no trace of -any dwellings. One might think that these stone walls radiating over -the fields had sprung there of their own accord, and that the hay is -doomed to rot standing, after feeding the butterflies. Yet that cannot -be—evidently some one must come now and then to cut this grass, make it -into stacks and carry it away.... At last, by dint of stretching neck -and legs you succeed in discovering far away on the horizon a spire -that belongs to a big borough, a market-town rather, where those civic -tillers of the soil dwell in houses similar to those of the _liberties_ -in Dublin. - -As for the mud cabin, generally described as the Irish peasant’s only -home, it is now a thing of the past. One would hardly, and after much -research, find some specimens of it in the farthest counties, at the end -of Kerry or Mayo. - -True to say, when found, those specimens leave nothing to be desired for -poverty and discomfort; no fire-place, no windows, no furniture; nothing -but a roof of turf supported by a few poles on mud walls. The very pig -that formerly shared its luxuries with the _genus homo_ and indicated a -certain degree of relative comfort in his possessor, the pig himself has -disappeared for ever. - -But those are exceptions, almost pre-historic cases. As a rule the mud -cabin has been blotted out from the Irish soil—perhaps enlightened -landlords systematically pursued its eradication; perhaps the peasants, -tired of its tutelary protection, emigrated under other skies,—or more -simply still, they took advantage of the last famine to die of hunger. -Upon which came the rain, and two or three years sufficed to dilute the -walls, render the mud house to the common reservoir, and wash out its -very remembrance. - -The population of Ireland, it must be borne in mind, has been steadily -decreasing for half a century. It was of 8,175,124 inhabitants in 1841; -of 6,552,385 in 1851; 5,798,584 in 1861; 5,412,377 in 1871; and 5,174,836 -in 1881. By all appearances it must now have sunk under five millions. If -this fish-eating race was not the most prolific under the sun it would -have been blotted out long ago from the face of this planet. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE RACE. - - -The essential character of Irish scenery is, besides the green colour -and the absence of trees, the frequent ruins that meet the eyes -everywhere—one cannot go two steps without seeing them. Ruins of castles, -abbeys, churches, or even humble private dwellings. There are quarters of -large towns or boroughs, such as for instance the northern one in Galway, -that might be taken at night, with their sinister looking rows of houses, -roofless and with gaping walls, for a street in Herculaneum or Pompeii. -When the ancient stone walls are those of a church or chapel, they -generally serve as a setting for the legends of the countryside; there -occurred all the terrifying tales of former days, there took place all -the local miracles, and there still is the favourite haunt of illustrious -spirits, of fairies and _banshee_. - -Almost in every case the graves of a hamlet come to group themselves at -the foot of those ivy-clothed old walls, by an instinctive and touching -effect of the Irishman’s passionate love for the traditions of his race; -and those graves, generally covered with great slabs of stone, scattered -among the tall grasses, wild and moss-grown, without cross or emblem of -any sort, well accord with the melancholy aspect of the site. - -Sometimes near these ruins and graves is still seen, proudly raising its -head, one of those monuments peculiar to the country and about which -antiquaries are at such variance,—the round towers of Ireland: slender -and bold turrets, slightly conical in shape, not unlike minarets 75 or -80 feet high, upon a base 15 to 18 feet broad, and springing from the -ground like obelisks. They are built of large stones, sometimes rough, -sometimes cut, but always cemented together, a fact which gave rise -to the opinion that they must be posterior to the invasion of Great -Britain by the Romans. But that is simply begging the question and is -justified by nothing; moreover, the absence of any tradition about the -origin or use of those towers make such a tale appear in the highest -degree improbable. A race was never seen to borrow the technical industry -of another race to apply it to the construction of monuments that are -essentially their own. Celtic civilization had attained in Ireland, -centuries before the Romans, to a degree of perfection witnessed by the -Brehon Code, compiled at least five or six centuries before the Christian -era, and the first among human laws that substituted arbitrage to brute -force. A people capable of submitting to the law of reason and who knew -enough of mechanics to erect monoliths of twenty-four thousand cubic feet -could well discover alone the art of mixing mortar, and need not borrow -it from the Romans, who besides did not set foot in the country. Never -was hypothesis more childish or more unfounded. The truth is that nothing -is known about the round towers, as is the case with the _nurraghs_ -of Sardinia; that all those monuments are anterior to any positive -traditions and have been built for uses of which we have no conception. -At the most one might suppose from their aspect, which is that of inland -lighthouses, that they may have been used as military or astronomical -observatories, and, perhaps, bore on their summit a sacred fire visible -throughout a whole district. In such a case the only guide to be followed -with any certainty is the eternal fitness between organ and function. - -Eighty-three of these towers are still standing in Ireland, and their -dilapidated condition allows it to be supposed that they may once have -been much more numerous. Whatever may have been their origin, they -remain so narrowly and so fitly associated in the popular imagination -with the Irish idea of nationality that the image of a round tower -naturally grew under the chisel of the sculptor, as an emblem of -patriotism, on the tomb of O’Connell in the cemetery of Dublin. - -Megalithic monuments and dolmen are equally found in great numbers in -Ireland. Donegal presents at Raphre a circus of raised stones absolutely -similar to that of Stonehenge, while in Derry one sees in the Grianan of -Aileach the finest fortified temple that was ever raised in honour of the -sun. In many districts all the hills or mountains without exception are -crowned with the funeral hillock or Celtic _rath_. As for the Druidical -inscriptions in the _Ogham_ character, consisting of twenty-five -combinations of oblique or vertical strokes corresponding to an equal -number of sounds, they abound in all the counties. The most curious is -that of the Cave of Dunloe, discovered by a labourer, in the vicinity -of Killarney, in the year 1838; it may be considered a true Druidical -library, of which the books are represented by the stones of the vaulted -roof. Those characters have been deciphered now, thanks to bilingual -inscriptions posterior to the Roman period. - -Lastly, the names of places and the geographical definitions are, in -nine cases out of ten, of Celtic origin, according to the tables drawn -out by Chalmers. The mountains are called _ben_, and the chains of hills -_sliebh_, rocks are _carricks_ or _cloagh_, lakes _loughs_, an island -_innis_, bogs _corks_, lands _curraghs_, hills _knocks_, rivers _anagh_. - -The Erse tongue, still spoken by a twelfth part of the population, is -sister to the Gaelic and the Breton. It denominates a field _agh_, a -ford _ath_, a village _bally_, a city _cahir_, _ban_ what is white or -beautiful, _deargh_ what is red, _dua_ what is black, _beg_ what is -small, and _mor_ what is big, _clar_ a plain, _teach_ a house, _donagh_ a -church, _ross_ a wooded hillside. - - * * * * * - -As for the type of the Irish race it is undeniably Celtic, or at least -essentially different from the Anglo-Saxon. The hair is black or brown, -the eyes dark, the complexion pale, the nose short, the forehead bony. -The general appearance is vigorous and active, the movements are quick -and often graceful; the stature without being low, is nearer to middle -height than is generally the case in a British country. The rudest -peasant girls often have a sculptural grace of attitude; one sees them -in the fields, carrying burdens on their head with that stateliness of -Greek canephores which seems as a rule the exclusive attribute of the -daughters of the East. - -Still more different from the English is the inner man; naturally -mirthful and expansive, witty, careless, even giddy, quarrelsome from -mere love of noise, prompt to enthusiasm or despondency, imbued with the -love of literary form and legal subtleties, he is the Frenchman of the -West, as the Pole or the Japanese are Frenchmen of the East. And always -there has been an affinity of nature, a harmony of thought, between -them and us. At once we feel we are cousins. Their ancestors formerly -came in thousands to fight under our flag. Our revolutions were always -felt in Ireland. So strong, for nations as well as individuals, is that -mysterious tie of a common origin, or even the most remote consanguinity. - - * * * * * - -Does this mean that the Irishman, thanks to his insular position, has -escaped all cross breeding and remained pure Celt? Far from it. No -country was oftener or more cruelly invaded than his. The stranger -implanted himself in it, begat his children there, introduced in the race -elements that are still recognizable; for example, that most peculiar -expression of the eyes, the height of the cheek-bones, the outline of -the temples and cranium, which are in many cases clearly Scandinavian. - -In the origin of history the primitive inhabitants of Erin, the Firbolgs -(men with the skin of beasts) were vanquished by the Thuathan-de-Danan, -“the fairy people,” who came from the East, and who founded the realm of -Innisfallen, or Island of Fate. A Spanish invasion (probably Phenician), -that of the Milesians, overthrew that establishment ten or twelve -centuries before the Christian era, and three hundred years before the -foundation of Rome. After that came an uninterrupted list of one hundred -and ninety-seven Milesian kings, who reached to the arrival of the -Northmen, in the eighth century of the present era. Under their rule -Ireland enjoyed a profound peace. It was during this period of more than -a thousand years that flourished and developed in the island of Erin -an entirely original civilization, characterised by the Brehon Code, -by customs of great gentleness, by institutions of admirable prudence, -among others that of a national militia, the _Fiana-Erin_, or _Fenians_, -who were recruited by voluntary enlistment, defended the country and -maintained order therein, while the citizens pursued their various -avocations,—agriculture, in which they excelled, fishing and navigation, -for which they displayed some ability. - -Divided into five or six small independent kingdoms Ireland, without her -militia, would have fallen an easy prey to the Britons, the Gauls, or the -Caledonians, and later on to the Romans. Thanks to that national force,—a -true civic guard, quartered during winter on the inhabitants, and ever -popular, which proves that it knew how to preserve intact the tradition -of Celtic virtues,—Ireland, alone almost among European nations, escaped -a Roman invasion. After twelve hundred years the remembrance of the -Fenians has remained so vivid in the hearts of the people that the Irish -Republicans of America, when they resumed in our own days the struggle in -arms against England, naturally chose the name of the ancient defenders -of national independence. - - * * * * * - -With the fall of the Roman Empire and the dying out of the fear of -invasion, the Fenian institution disappeared. The military instincts -of the nation then manifested themselves at the exterior by frequent -incursions made by Irish adventurers in England, Scotland, or Gaul. It -was in one of those incursions off the coast of Brittany that Niall Mor, -King of Tara, took prisoner, with several other young Christians, a -boy named Sucoth, and whom they called _Patricius_ (Patrick) on account -of his noble origin. This was at the end of the fourth century of our -era. The prisoner was employed in tending flocks in Ireland, spent seven -years there, and at last found an opportunity of escaping to his own -country. When back in Brittany, he constantly thought with grief of the -dreadful destiny of the Irish, who still remained in ignorance of the -true religion, and vegetated in the darkness of Druidism. One night he -had a prophetic dream, after which he resolved to dedicate himself to the -evangelization of those unhappy heathens. To this effect he went to the -town of Tours, where he assumed the religious habit, then on to Rome, -where he entered the missionary seminary. In the year 432 he was at the -Barefooted Augustines’ Convent, in Auxerre, when he heard of the death -of Paladius, fifth apostolic missionary of the Holy See in the island of -Erin. Patrick solicited and obtained the honour of succeeding him. He was -made Archbishop _in partibus infidelium_, and set out with twenty other -French priests. - -A certain number of Christians were already to be found in Ireland; but -the bulk of the nation remained attached to its traditional worship, -which was that of Chaldea and of Ancient Gaul, the worship of the sun or -fire, as the principle of all life and purity. - -Yet the sons of Erin were not by any means barbarians; their civilization -could rather be regarded as the most flourishing in Europe. They knew -the art of weaving stuffs, and of working metals; their laws were wise -and just, their customs hardy without ferocity. Patrick knew better than -any one that he must think neither of hurrying their conversion nor -of imposing it by force. He devoted himself with great adroitness to -the task of winning the favour of the chiefs, tenderly handled all the -national prejudices, loudly extolled the excellence of the Brehon Code, -and succeeded at last in giving baptism to the Princes of Leinster. After -this the new religion made such rapid progress that at the end of fifteen -years Patrick was obliged to ask for thirty new Bishops from Rome, -besides the numerous native priests who had already received ordination -at his hands. When he died at the ripe age of one hundred and twenty -years, Ireland had become Christian, and was rapidly being Latinised in -the innumerable schools attached to the monasteries and churches. She -even entered so eagerly in the new path as to deserve the name of “Isle -of Saints” throughout the Roman world, and that for a long time it was -enough to be Irish or to have visited Erin to become invested with -almost a halo of sanctity. - -That transformation had been accomplished without violence or effusion -of blood. Until the 8th century it was a source of honour and prosperity -for Ireland, for the lustre of her own civilization was enhanced by her -renown for piety, and all the neighbouring nations sent their sons in -flocks to be instructed in her arts and her virtues. - - * * * * * - -But the very virtues that made her a country of monks and scholars were -doomed before long to become the source of all her misfortunes. When the -Scandinavian invasions began to pour over the whole of Europe, Ireland, -emasculated by an entirely mystical devotion, was found incapable of -sustaining the shock of the Northmen. The disappearance of the Fenian -Militia had for a long time left her without a national tie, given up to -local rivalries, and broken in pieces, as it were, by the clan system. At -the very time that she most urgently needed a powerful central authority -to struggle against the _black_ and _white strangers_ from Norway and -Denmark, she was found defenceless, and it was not her feeble belt of -mountains, opening everywhere on deep bays, that could oppose a serious -barrier to them, or guard her plains against their invasions. - -Pressed by hunger, the Scandinavians left their country in shoals. They -threw themselves on the coasts of Great Britain, France, and Spain, as -far as the basin of the Mediterranean. In no place were the people of -Europe, already enfeebled by habits of comparative luxury, able to resist -those giants of the North, who dauntlessly embarked in their otter-skin -boats and dared to go up the Seine even to the very walls of Paris. -Ireland was a prey marked out for them. If peradventure the invading -party were not numerous enough and were beaten back by numbers, they -would come back in thousands the following year and sweep all before -them. Vainly did the sons of Erin fight with all the courage of despair; -one after the other their chieftains were vanquished, and the foe -definitely took up a position on the south-east coast, where he founded -the cities of Strangford, Carlingford, and Wexford. - -Not content with reducing the Irish to bondage, the victors took a -cunning and savage delight in humiliating and degrading them, lodging -garnisaries under their roofs, interdicting, under pain of death, the -exercise of all liberal arts as well as the carrying of arms, destroying -schools, burning books to take possession of the gold boxes that -protected their precious binding. - -Every ten or twelve years a liberator sprang up in the West or North, -and tried to shake off the abhorred yoke. But the rebellion only made -it weigh more heavily on the neck of the vanquished; and if it happened -that a Brian Boru succeeded, after incredible efforts and heroism, in -gathering troops numerous enough to inflict on the stranger a bloody -defeat, such a day of glory was invariably followed by the most sinister -morrow. - -After two centuries of slavery, interrupted by massacres, vain struggles, -and impotent efforts, Ireland, once so prosperous, gradually sank in the -darkest state of barbarism. The intestine dissensions and the rivalries -between clans achieved the work of the Northern Conquerors. In the year -1172 she was ripe for new masters, also of Scandinavian race, who were -ready to swoop on her with their Anglo-Saxon bands, after passing, to -come to her, through the duchy of Normandy and through Great Britain. - -Henry the Second of Anjou, King of England, was resolved to add Ireland -to his possessions. All he wanted was a pretext. He found it in the state -of practical schism and independence into which the insular Church -had fallen. The members of its clergy no longer recognized the Roman -discipline, did not observe Lent, and married like those of the Greek -rite. Henry the Second solicited and obtained from Pope Adrian II. a bull -authorizing him to invade the sister isle, in order to “re-establish -therein the rule of the Holy See, stop the progress of vice, bring back -respect for law and religion, and secure the payment of St. Peter’s -pence.” But in spite of this formal authorization he was too much -occupied with Aquitaine to be able to entertain seriously the idea of -undertaking the conquest of Ireland, when one of his vassals, Strongbow, -cut the knot by landing on the island at the head of a Welsh army, to -carve himself a kingdom on the south-east coast. - -The way was open; Henry II. threw himself in it in his turn, and -established himself in the east of the island, where, strong in the -countenance of the clergy secured to him by the Papal bull, he received -before long the homage of the principal native chieftains. - - * * * * * - -Limited at first to a territory enclosed within palisades, or _Pale_, -which, during more than four centuries, enlarged or got narrowed, -according to the fortune of war and the relative strength of the -belligerent parties, the English rule was destined at last to spread -over the whole of the island. But, of this seven-century struggle, the -last word is not yet said. The wound is ever bleeding. Ireland has -never accepted her defeat; she refuses to accept as valid a marriage -consummated by a rape. Always she protested, either by direct rebellion, -when she found the opportunity for it, as in 1640, in 1798, and in -1848; either by the voice of her poets and orators, by the nocturnal -raids of her _Whiteboys_ and _Ribbonmen_, by the plots of her Fenians, -by the votes of her electors, by parliamentary obstruction, by passive -resistance, by political or commercial interdict—opposed to the intruder; -in a word, by all the means, legal or illegal, that offered to interrupt -prescription. - -A striking, and, one may say, a unique example in history: after seven -centuries of sustained effort on the part of the victor to achieve his -conquest, this conquest is less advanced than on the morrow of Henry the -Second’s landing at Waterford. An abyss still severs the two races, and -time, instead of filling up that abyss, only seems to widen it. This -phenomenon is of such exceptional and tragic interest; it beats with -such crude light on the special physiology of two races and the general -physiology of humanity, that one needs must stop first and try to unravel -its tangible causes if one be desirous of comprehending what is taking -place in the land of Erin. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -HISTORICAL GRIEVANCES. - - -The English, it must be admitted, are no amiable masters. Never, in any -quarter of the globe, were they able to command the goodwill of the -nations submitted to their rule, nor did they fascinate them by those -brilliant qualities that often go a long way towards forgiveness of -possible injuries. “Take yourself off there, that I may take your place,” -seems always to have been the last word of their policy. Pure and simple -extermination of autochthon races; such is their surest way to supremacy. -One has seen it successively in America, on the Australian continent, in -Tasmania, in New Zealand, where the native tribes hardly exist now more -than as a memory. On the other hand, if the vanquished races were too -numerous or too sturdy and prolific to be easily suppressed, as in India -or Ireland, reconciliation never took place; conquest ever remained a -doubtful and precarious fact. - -In Ireland, the question was made more complex by two elements -that visibly took a predominant part in the relations between the -conquerors and the conquered. In the first place, the island of Erin, -having remained outside the pale of the Roman world and of barbaric -invasions, possessed an indigenous and original civilization that made -her peculiarly refractory to the establishment of the feudal system. -Secondly, her very remoteness and her insular character inclined the -immigrants to establish themselves there regretfully, to consider her -always as a colony and a place of exile, where they only resided against -their will. For the first four hundred years of their occupation they -confined themselves to the eastern coast within the inclosed territory -(varying with the fortune of war) that they called the _Pale_ or -palisade, and outside which the Irish preserved their manners, their -laws, and their own customs. - -In spite of this barrier, it happened in the course of time that the -English colonists got pervaded by those customs and felt their contagion. -At once the British Parliament had recourse to drastic laws in order to -open a new abyss between the two races, and keep the mastery they had -over the Irish. Such is the special object of an edict of Edward III., -known under the name of _Edict of Kilkenny_, and by which it is reputed -high treason for any Englishman established in Ireland to have married -an Irish-woman, to have legitimised an Irish child, or have held him in -baptism, to have taken an Irish Christian name, to have worn the Irish -dress, to have spoken the Erse tongue, to have let his moustache grow, -or to have ridden saddleless, as was the Irish fashion; above all, to -have submitted to the Brehon Code. Those divers crimes were punished by -confiscation of property, and perpetual imprisonment of the offender. - - * * * * * - -Such laws were a powerful obstacle to fusion, raised by the intruder -himself. One sees at once the difference between, for instance, such a -system and that established by the Norman invasion in Great Britain. - -Here the conqueror found a race made supple by Roman occupation and -Danish rule; he established himself, by strength of arm, on the soil, -covered it with strongholds, and everywhere substituted himself to the -dispossessed masters; he at once implanted within his new dominions the -French tongue, the feudal system, the powerful hierarchy that constituted -its strength; he remained standing, iron-covered and in arms, over the -prostrate bodies of the population in bondage, and repressed with such -a high hand any attempt at rebellion, that the very idea of resistance -must of necessity die out soon. On the other hand, having transplanted -himself, and without any idea of return, in this new sphere, he -immediately submitted to its influence; he incorporated himself with the -ambient race to such a degree as soon to forget his own origin, and come -after two or three generations to consider himself as purely of English -breed. - -In Ireland, on the contrary, not only was the conqueror reduced by the -imperfect state of his conquest to remain on the defensive, confined -within the Pale on the eastern shore, within reach, so to say, of the -mother country; not only could not he dream for a long time of obliging -populations that escaped all action on his part to obey his manners and -his laws; not only did he systematically keep those populations at arm’s -length and avoided mixing with them; but periodical laws and edicts -constantly came to remind them, on pain of terrible punishment, that he -belonged to another race, and must guard with jealous care the integrity -of its autonomy. Without any intercourse with the more distant tribes, he -was at constant war with those of the borders of the Pale. - -And war was, at this period even still more than in our own days, mere -rapine, raised to the dignity of a system. The English did not scruple to -make incursions on their neighbour’s lands, to take away harvest, cattle, -and women, after which they returned to their fortified territory. - -They did even worse: having heard of the ancient custom by which the -Irish formerly accorded fire and candle light to their national militia -or Fenians, the English revived it to their own profit; they quartered on -the peasantry in their neighbourhood during all the winter, a soldier, -who took his seat round the domestic hearth, shared the meals of the -family, took possession of the best bed—nay, did not disdain to cast -the eye of favour on the wife or daughter—and not the less remained -a stranger, a foe, at the same time that he was a forced guest and a -spy—for he was forbidden to speak the language, to adopt the dress, -to imitate the manners of his victims.... The horror of that burden -coming anew every year had once led to the suppression of the Fenian -militia. How much more terrible was such servitude, enforced by the -enemy! Constant were the rebellions, and always repressed with calculated -barbarity—they only served as a pretext for new exactions. - - * * * * * - -Still, in spite of all, a certain contagion of habits took place between -the contiguous races. A few native chiefs insensibly began to imitate the -manners of the English. The English were not long in discovering a way to -reconcile them—by appealing to their basest impulses. - -Until then, the Irish had had no knowledge of individual property. -With them land was, like the sky or the air they breathed, the common -inheritance of those who occupied it. The members of a clan, indeed, -paid the chieftain a tax or annual duty, but they did not conceive it -as possible that this leader could look on himself as the master of the -social fund to which they, like him, had a hereditary right. At the -most they expected their harvest or cattle to be seized, in case of -non-payment of the tax. There never had been an eviction of the tenant, -as there had been no sale or transfer of the land by him occupied. -Individual appropriation, as resulting from the feudal system, was such a -new idea to the Irish that they were at first unable to grasp it. - -“What interest can you have in making your clan give up their land to the -English, since you get it back in return for your homage?” would ask some -of the native chieftains of those of their countrymen nearer the pale -who had taken for some time to performing that commercial transaction. - -The neophytes of feudal law would then explain that in case of extension -of the English conquest, their possession of the land would be guaranteed -by the fact of the new title. What they took great care should not be -discovered by the clan, was that they gave what did not belong to them, -and sold the collective property of their followers, to receive it -afterwards at the hands of the English as personal property.... This was -seen clearly later on, when they began to sell it or raise mortgages -on it. But that, the dawn of a gigantic fraud, nobody in Ireland could -so much as suspect. The fraudulent origin of individual appropriation -is nevertheless, even to our own day, the true root of the desperate -resistance that the Irish tenant invariably opposes to eviction. Be it -tradition, be it “cellular memory,” he is conscious of his primordial and -superior right to that glebe once stolen from his forefathers. - - * * * * * - -Stolen! if only it had been stolen once for all!... But to repeat -Fitzgibbon’s (Lord Clare) saying, there is not in the whole of Ireland -one field that has not been _at least three times_ unjustly taken from -its legitimate possessors. And that spoliation was always accompanied by -the most aggravating circumstances. - -It was indeed with Henry VIII. and Elizabeth that the true efforts of -England to achieve the conquest of Erin were made, and from that time, to -the antagonism of the two races, to the conflict of interests, was added -religious hatred. Between puritanical England and Catholic Ireland began -a duel to the death, into which each generation in turn has thrown itself -for three centuries. Oppression begets rebellion, and rebellion expires -drowned in blood. We have no intention of repeating that history in these -pages; its details are to be found everywhere. Let us only recall its -essential features. - -Towards the year 1565, Queen Elizabeth undertook the “plantation” of -Ireland on a large scale, and set about it by the elementary process -of dispossessing the owners of the soil in order to present Englishmen -with their lands. The whole country rose, under the command of John -Desmond, who called the Spaniards to his aid. Upon which England sent to -Ireland, together with Sydney, Sussex, and Walter Raleigh, armies whose -instructions were “the extermination of the Rebels.” - -“At Christmas,” wrote one of the English Generals, Sir Nicolas Malby, -in the year 1576, “I entered Connaught, and soon finding that by mercy -I should only succeed in having my throat cut, I preferred to adopt a -different tactic. I therefore threw myself in the mountains with the -settled determination of destroying these people by sword and fire, -sparing neither the old nor the children. _I burnt down all their -harvests and all their houses, and I put to the sword all that fell -within my hands...._ This occurred in the country of Shane Burke. I did -the same thing in that of Ullick Burke.” - -The other English Generals vied in ardour with this butcher; so much so -that at the end of a few years of indiscriminate hangings, massacres, -burnings of house and land, the whole of Munster was laid waste like a -desert; a few wretches only were left to wander over it like ghosts, -and they came voluntarily to offer their throat to the knife of Queen -Elizabeth’s soldiers. The Virgin Queen then resolved to repeople that -desert; she made proclamation that all the lands of the Desmonds were -confiscated (more than 500,000 acres) and she offered them gratuitously -to whosoever would “plant” them with the help of English labour. The -grantees were to pay no duty to the Crown until six years had passed, and -that duty was always to be of the lightest. In spite of these advantages -colonization did not make much progress. The English at last understood -that they must either give it up, or resign themselves to having the -ground cultivated by the despoiled Irish who had survived the massacres. -H ow could those wretched people have done otherwise than nourish the -hope of revenge? - -That revenge was attempted in Ulster at the death of Elizabeth. It ended -in new disasters, new tortures, new confiscations. The counties of -Tyrone, Derry, Donegal, Armagh, Fermanagh, and Cavan,—in all about three -million acres,—were then seized by the Crown and distributed in lots to -Scotch settlers. - - * * * * * - -In the year 1641, under the reign of Charles I., a few Irishmen having -emigrated to the continent, and having been initiated to modern military -tactics in the ranks of the French army, attempted to liberate their -country. They provoked a rising, succeeded in holding in check during -eight years all the British forces, and in 1649 compelled the King of -England to grant them by formal treaty the conditions they themselves -dictated. But a few days later the head of Charles fell on the scaffold, -and Cromwell in person, escorted by his son, by Ireton and Ludlow, made -it his business to come and annul the treaty of Kilkenny. - -“For Jesus!... No quarter!...” Such was the battle-cry he gave to his -Roundheads. Drogheda, then Wexford were taken by storm; men, women, -and children were exterminated; Galway fell in 1652. The populations, -exhausted by a war and famine of ten years’ duration, surrendered -themselves to his mercy, and laid down their arms. Cromwell had only now -to reap the fruits of his victory by making Ireland pay for it. - -His first idea was to complete the extermination of the native race, -in order to replace it by English colonists. But even his gloomy soul -recoiled before the only means that at once and for ever could put an -end to “the Irish gangrene.” He adopted a middle course, of much less -radical efficacy. This middle course consisted in transporting, or, as -they called it at the time _transplanting_ all the Irish into the region -bounded by the Shannon, there to be penned up like men infested with -the plague, while all the rest of the territory was allotted to English -families. - -The enterprise was conducted with truly puritanical method and rigour. -Thousands of Irish were shipped as slaves to the West Indies, thousands -of others were imprisoned in Connaught, under pain of death for whoever -should cross its limits. All the land, carefully parcelled out, was -divided by lot between the soldiers of Cromwell, upon agreement that they -should consider themselves bound to expend their pay for three years on -the improvement of it. But those fields, to yield up their value, had to -be cultivated, and the English labourer declined to become a voluntary -exile in order to cultivate them. Little by little the native peasantry -came back to their old homes with the tenacity peculiar to their class, -they founded families and reconstituted the Irish nation under the ten or -twelve thousand landlords imposed over them by fraud and violence. Forty -years after Cromwell’s death, these landlords had even forgotten how to -speak the English language. - - * * * * * - -Restoration was not destined to heal any of those cruel wounds. Charles -II. took little heed of Ireland, which he deemed too far off, and besides -he thought it good policy not to disturb the new occupants in their -possessions. He barely deemed it necessary to establish in Dublin a Court -of Revision that sat only one year, examined no more than seven hundred -cases out of a total of above three thousand that were submitted to it, -and ordered the restitution of hardly a sixth part of the confiscated -land. - -After the Revolution of 1688, nevertheless, the Irish only embraced with -more ardour the cause of James II. when he landed in Ireland with a -handful of men. Even after his defeat at the Boyne, they so successfully -resisted William of Orange that he was compelled in 1691 to grant to -them, by the treaty of Limerick, the free exercise of their religion -and the political privileges that could help them to preserve it. But, -like so many other charters, that one was soon to be violated. All the -Irish Jacobites were compelled to expatriate themselves (numbers of them -took service in France; more than fifty thousand Irishmen died under -the _fleur-de-lis_ during the first half of the eighteenth century); -four thousand others were evicted from one million of acres that -William distributed among his followers. Soon to this already terrible -repression were to be added all the rigours of the Penal Code, that code -that proclaimed it a duty to spy, and a meritorious act to betray the -Irishman at his hearth; that code of which Burke could say: “Never did -the ingenious perversity of man put forth a machine more perfect, more -thoughtfully elaborated, more calculated to oppress, to impoverish, to -degrade a people, to lower in them human nature itself.” - -Under the network of that nameless despotism which attacked man in his -dearest privileges, the rights of conscience, the sanctity of home,—under -the weight of a legislation that in a manner forbade her the use of water -and fire, that closed all careers before her, after having wrenched her -last furrow from her keeping,—the Irish nation persisted in living and -multiplying. Was it any wonder that in the depth of her collective soul -she cherished dreams of revenge and justice? - -The American Emancipation and the French Revolution appeared to her -as the dawn of regeneration. Alas! once again the glorious effort of -1798,—the rebellion in arms, victory itself, were only to end in a -complete wreck. As if Fate owed one more stroke of irony to this martyred -nation, it was an Irish Parliament that by its own vote in 1800 abdicated -the hardly recovered national independence. Pitt bought it wholesale for -the price of 1,200,000 guineas. - - * * * * * - -It was not enough, however, to have taken from the Irishman his blood, -his land, his religious faith, and his liberty: they must still prevent -his prospering in commerce or industry. Political interest was here in -accordance with avarice in giving this advice to the victor. - -Charles II. began by forbidding Ireland to export meat, butter, and -cheese to England. At that time of slow maritime intercourse, no idea -could be entertained of sending them to any other market. The Irish had -to fall back on wool, which they exported to France and Spain. That was -sufficient to arouse the jealousy of their pitiless masters. The export -of wool, be it as raw material or in woven stuffs, was forbidden the -Irish on pain of confiscation and fines. - -The effect of this harsh measure was two-fold: it prevented the abhorred -Irish prospering; it secured to the English merchant the monopoly of -Irish wool, which he could henceforth buy at his own price (generally at -a quarter of the current price), and sell again at a lesser rate than -all his competitors. It only remained for Ireland to make smugglers of -all her fishermen; they crammed all the caverns on her coasts with wool, -and during the winter, in spite of excisemen, they exchanged it for the -wines and spirits of France and Spain. By the same occasion they exported -soldiers and imported Catholic priests. Thus did Ireland keep losing her -vital strength, by the constant departure of the most vigorous amongst -her sons, at the same time that she inoculated in her blood two equally -fatal poisons—alcohol and fanaticism. - -On the other hand, the Puritan weavers of Ulster were ruined like the -wool-farmers. They emigrated to America, and England found no bitterer -foes than their sons during the War of Independence. - -Some of the Irish tried to fall back on other industries, as the weaving -of linen or ship-building. At once England interfered with an iron hand -by establishing the most ruinous prohibitive duties on Irish linens, -while at the same time her cotton fabrics came pouring over the country. -To make doubly sure, England, by a special law, formally interdicted -ship-building in Ireland as well as any direct trade with any foreign -market whatsoever. - -One feels a sort of shame for the human kind in having to record -such consistent acts of systematic cruelty. The violence of military -retaliation, the sacking of towns or the massacre of vanquished foes, -may be explained by the heat of combat, and are found in the annals of -all countries. An economical compression exercised during ten or twelve -generations on one nation by another nation of Shylocks is, happily, a -fact without any parallel in history. - -From the beginning of the 18th century all industrial enterprise had thus -been unmercifully forbidden to Ireland. All the factories were closed, -the working population had been reduced to field labour, emigration or -street-begging. This population therefore weighed still more heavily -on the soil, still exaggerating its tendencies to subdivision; which -tendencies, already a curse for Ireland, were to cause in the future new -ferments of hatred and misery. All the attempts that Ireland made to -free herself from those iron shackles were pitilessly repressed. She saw -herself deprived of her right to commercial activity, as she had been of -national conscience, of land, and religious or political freedom. And -it is after having thus for centuries systematically trained the Irish -to poverty, idleness, and drink, that England, crowning her work with -calumny, dares to bring forward their vices as an excuse for herself! - - * * * * * - -These things are far from us already. But it would be erring greatly to -imagine that in the eyes of the Irish they bear an antiquated character. -Oral tradition, seconded by an indigenous literature, keeps the wound -open and green. Yonder wretched beggar, dying of hunger and want upon -the glebe once possessed by his ancestors, knows that they ruled where -he now serves, bears their name with a touching pride, and sadly toils -for others in a field that he believes to belong to himself. He is not -ignorant of the way in which it was taken from him, at what date, and -in what manner the event took place. How could he consider its present -possessors otherwise than as his most cruel enemies? - -Let us imagine the French _émigrés_ brought back violently on the lands -taken from them by the nation, and reduced to support their family by -tilling their fields with their own hands. Let us suppose them compelled -every year to pay an exorbitant rent to the usurper. Let us blot out -from history’s page the milliard indemnity given to the _émigrés_ -and the amnesty passed over those things by five or six successive -revolutions. Let us lastly add to these deadly rancours the weight of a -religious persecution of three centuries, of the undisguised contempt -of the victor, and of the most shocking political inequality.... Let -that _émigré_, in a word, not only have lost caste, be spoliated and a -serf, but also be a pariah, a kind of pestilent member of the community: -then we shall gather some idea of the state of mind of the Irish people -towards England; we shall understand that in truth the only mistake -committed by Cromwell and the others in their system of colonization was -to have not carried it to its full length, to have not exterminated all -by fire or sword, and to have left a single son of Erin alive. - - * * * * * - -As a contrast to England and Ireland, let us place a historical fact -of the same order, that of France with Corsica. Here also we find an -insular race of markedly distinct character, of different language, -different manners and traditions, the habit of independence and the -clan-spirit,—all that can foster and serve resistance to annexation. -But here the conquering nation is France, and she is a kind mother. She -does not come, fire and sword in hand, to ravage the harvests of the -vanquished, to take his land, to impose on him, together with a new -faith, exceptional laws, and a brand of infamy. On the contrary, to them -she opens her arms, she offers her wealth and her love. From the first -day she admits Corsicans to the provincial parliaments, and twenty years -later she receives their deputies in the Assemblée Nationale. From the -first hour they feel they are Frenchmen, the equals of those born in the -Ile de France. There are for them neither special taxes, nor political -inferiority, nor rigours of any sort. Never was an inch of ground taken -from them to be given to the continental families. Never were they -treated like serfs to be trodden down without mercy. If there be an -exception made, it is in their favour; as, for instance, the reduction -of one half of all duties on imports; the free trade in tobacco; the -enormous proportion of Corsicans admitted to all Government offices. - -But what a difference, too, in the results!... In less than a hundred -years, the fusion between the two races is so perfect, the assimilation -so complete, that one could not find to-day one man in Corsica to wish -for a separation. Nay, rather, against such an enterprise, if any one -were found to attempt it, all Corsica would rise in arms. - -If Great Britain had so willed it, Ireland might easily have become to -her what Corsica is to us. Only, for the last seven hundred years, Great -Britain has lacked what alone could have made that miracle possible,—a -mother’s heart and love. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -KILLARNEY. - - -I know no place to compare with Killarney: so soft to the eye, so -full of unspeakable grace. It is as a compendium of Ireland; all the -characteristic features of the country are united there: the elegant -“round towers,” drawing on the horizon the airy outline of their conic -shafts; the soft moistness of the atmosphere, the tender blue of the sky, -the intense green of the meadows, set off by long, black trails of peat, -and the white, ochre, and red streaks which the grit-stone and clay-slate -draw on the hill-side. - -Within the oval circus formed by the mountains of Kerry, the Killarney -lakes succeed one another like small Mediterraneans, all dotted with -lovely islands, where myrtle and rare ferns grow freely, fostered by a -Lusitanian climate. Every one of those islands has its legend, its own -saint, buried under some old moss-grown mound; its ruined castle, its -ivy-clothed abbey, paved with tombstones and haunted by some _banshee_. -They are like large baskets of flowers floating on the clear, silent -waters, whose peace is only broken now and then by the jumping of a fish, -or the clucking of some stray teal. All there unite to form a landscape -of almost paradoxical beauty. You think you have landed in fairyland, -outside the pale of ordinary life. - -The most illustrious of them is Innisfallen, where the monks wrote in the -seventh century their famous _Annals_, the pride of the Bodleian Library. -In viewing this enchanting island, you involuntarily fall to repeating -the beautiful lines of Moore which you used to bungle in your school -days, and of which you first realise the profound truth: - - “_Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well,_ - _May calm and sunshine long be thine,_ - _How fair thou art, let others tell,_ - _While but to feel how fair be mine, etc._” - - * * * * * - -Along the shores of that range of lakes, two lordly domains display the -noble arrangement of their parks: one is the seat of the Earl of Kenmare, -lord-lieutenant of the county, late Lord Chamberlain to the Queen during -the Gladstone Ministry. The other belongs to Captain Herbert of Muckross, -late Member of Parliament. As far around as you can see the land belongs -to either of those two landlords. Just as in the tale, down to the -extremity of the valley, up to the very top of the far-away mountain, -land and water, beasts and Christians, all belong to the “Marquis de -Carabas.” - -Some restriction must be made, however. Changes have been introduced -lately. Only a few years ago it was a thing understood that of the two -members which the borough returned to Parliament one must be the heir -presumptive of the house of Kenmare, the other the chief of the house -of Muckross. That is over. Now-a-days the Kerry voters send whom Mr. -Parnell likes to the House of Commons. But the air of the parks is still -the property of the two owners; none may breathe it without their leave. -I hasten to say that the permission is most courteously given by Lord -Kenmare to all tourists, and as readily (if less liberally) sold on the -Muckross grounds to anyone willing to pay one or two shillings, according -to his approach walking or on horseback. - -The two parks are marvels, almost without other rivals in the world, for -their prodigious extent, their admirably kept shrubberies and avenues, -and the splendour and variety of the points of view which art has devised -on the lakes. Those lakes themselves, with their islands, bays, and -toy-peninsulas, their rippling brooks and foaming cascades, are only -part of the beauties of the whole. Muckross is proud to possess the old -abbey of the same name, and the Torc Cascade. Kenmare boasts Innisfallen, -Ross Island, Saint Finian’s Tomb, the legendary ruins of O’Donoghue’s -Castle, and a hundred other wonders. It is more regal than lordly, and -there are indeed few royal residences which can boast such gardens. - -You go away dazzled, enchanted, intoxicated with verdure, ozone, and -poetic sights. You come back the day following, you almost wish to take -root there for a sort of contemplative life, where you would discard any -heavier occupation than catching salmon, smoking endless cigarettes, and -reading over your favourite authors. A rich artist, it is said, being -pricked with a violent desire of that kind, offered I don’t know how much -ready money to Lord Kenmare if he would grant him five hundred square -yards of ground on Ross Island. The offer was declined. - - * * * * * - -There is a reverse side to the picture; and it could scarcely be less -brilliant. Killarney is a sorry borough of about four or five thousand -inhabitants, more miserable looking than words can express. Except in -the great hotels which English enterprise has raised for fleecing the -tourists attracted there by the beauty of the lakes, there is not a -vestige of ease or prosperity. No busy workman, not one manufacture is -to be seen. The miserable shops exhibit a few dusty wares which nobody -seems anxious either to buy or to sell. There is a despondent stillness -about, and people look tired with doing nothing. The women, all more or -less “tattered and torn,” wear a poor rag of a shawl on their heads. -Half-naked children, wild-haired, full of vermin, swarm out of all the -small alleys which open on the one street of the town. Only the Anglican -and Catholic churches rise above the sordid little dwellings with a -substantial and well-to-do air. - -Go out of the village, follow the long walls which enclose the lordly -seats, and after three or four miles you will find again the Irish -country such as you have seen it everywhere. Turnip and barley fields, -thin pastures, few trees or none at all. On the road-side occasionally -is a consumptive cow, or a pig wallowing in mud fraternally with two or -three bright-eyed urchins. Here and there a hovel with the traditional -dung-hill and three hens. Nothing, in short, calculated to bring a new -light on the agrarian crisis. - -It is in Kerry, however, that the malady has reached its most acute -state, they all tell me. But you could not believe how hard it is to -obtain any definite information about those matters. People who really -know about it feel a sort of shame to bare their national wounds before a -stranger, and besides, the diversity of judgments makes it difficult to -draw something positive from them. Every man has his party feeling, and -is wishing to enforce it upon you. Provided with a good number of letters -of introduction, and everywhere received with perfect cordiality, I have -talked already with people of all conditions—landlords, agents, farmers, -doctors, priests, and labourers,—without having obtained as yet any but -individual views. Home Rulers and Orangemen have made me hear arguments -that I know by heart from having heard them repeated these last eight -years, ever since the crisis entered its actual phase. This is not the -thing we want: we want _espèces_, as they say in French law; specific -illustration, direct symptoms of the Irish disease. - -And that is the difficulty. The habit of living among certain deformities -so familiarises us with them that we are no longer able to perceive them, -and still less to point them out. Moreover, when upon receiving a letter -from London, a man is kind enough to ask you to dinner, to introduce -you to his wife and daughters, to lend you his horse and trap, and to -empty for your benefit his store of ready-made opinions, is it possible -decently to ask him more? He has his own affairs, and cannot spend his -time running with you through hill and dale in order to help you to -unravel a sociological problem. - -By a stroke of good luck I met the scout I wanted. - - * * * * * - -I was returning from an excursion to the Gap of Dunloe when, on the banks -of the river which waters the Kenmare estate, near the bridge, I noticed -a man of about forty, of middle height, poorly but neatly clad, who was -walking in front of me and gave evident signs of wishing to enter into -conversation. I had been so harassed lately by the swarm of cicerones -and incompetent guides who crowd all ways to the lakes and sights around -Killarney, that I had grown suspicious, and pretended not to see the man. -But he had his idea and stuck to it. Slackening his pace, he began to -whistle _La Marseillaise_. - -That was saying plainly:— - -“You are French, and I am a friend of France like all Irishmen. You are -welcome here.” - -Throughout the world it is the adopted form for such a declaration of -love. On board a transatlantic steamer or in the sitting-rooms of a -cosmopolite hotel, when a fair-haired or dark-haired new acquaintance -seats herself to the piano and begins to play the march of Rouget de -l’Isle, the French tourist can see his way: he is looked upon with no -unfriendly eye. - -There were no dark or fair tresses here, but only a bearded -pepper-and-salt quadragenarian, with the patent purpose of hooking me -at the rate of half-a-crown an hour: so I remained obdurate. But he, -suddenly making up his mind:— - -“Well, _Sor_,” he said to me with a soft voice and the most enticing -smile, “how do you _loike_ our country?” - -“Your country? I should like it a great deal better if one could go -about it without being pestered by guides at every turning,” I said, but -half-remorsefully. - -“How true, sir! Those guides positively infest the place. And if they -only knew their trade! But they are regular swindlers, beggars who steal -the tourist’s money; the shame of Ireland, that is what they are!” - -The conversation then commenced, and to say the truth I have no reason -to repent it. The fellow is well-informed, quick-witted, incredibly -talkative, and in five minutes has given me really valuable information, -besides biographical details about himself. He is called MacMahon like -many others in this country, for I have seen that name over twenty -village shops already. Is he any relation to the Maréchal? No; he makes -no pretension to that. But after all it is not improbable that they come -from one root, for my friend is not, of course, without his relationship -with some of the numberless kings of Ireland. - -“And the Marshal is a great man, a brave soldier, a true Irishman. I have -his picture at home. I’ll show it to you if you do me the honour to visit -my humble roof, and accept a glass of ‘mountain dew.’” - - * * * * * - -My new acquaintance has been quill-driver at a land surveyor’s, and he -knows many things. This, for instance: that all people here, from the -most insignificant farmer to the biggest landowner, are in debt. - -“All that glitters is not gold,” he says, with a melancholy smile. “Do -you see that large expanse of land, sir? Well, those who own it are not -perhaps richer than I, and have not perhaps always as much pocket-money -as would be convenient for them. Their annual income goes to pay the -interest of an enormous debt, the hereditary obligations which weigh on -the property, and the normal keeping of it. Mr. Herbert, the owner of -Muckross, had to emigrate to America, where he is now an attorney’s -clerk, for his daily bread. The shilling you give for entering his park -goes to the scraping of it. As for Lord Kenmare, he never sees as much -as the tenth part of the revenue of his property, let alone his being -forbidden his own grounds under pain of being shot dead! Lady Kenmare -lives there alone with her children under protection of a detachment of -the police.” So the masters of those two noble estates are exiled from -them, one by mortgage, the other by agrarian hatred. O, irony of things! - -“But Lord Kenmare’s not a bad landlord, is he?” I said to MacMahon. - -“Far from it. His tenants are eight hundred in number, and there are -not three evicted in the year. I know personally twenty of them who owe -him four years’ rent and are never troubled about it. But he has taken -position against the League—that is enough. And then, don’t you know, -sir, the best of landlords is not worth much in the eyes of his tenants. -_They want the land and they will have it._ But this is my house. Please -come in, sir.” - - * * * * * - -Thus chattering, the communicative Celt had brought me to the entrance -of a small low house in a by-street of Killarney. We entered a sort -of kitchen-parlour on a level with the lane. No carpet or flooring of -any kind but the simple beaten clay, a large old-fashioned chimney, a -table, a few straw-covered chairs; on the walls a whole private museum -in chromo-lithography: Pope Pius IX., the Marshal Duke of Magenta, Mr. -Parnell, &c., and a branch of holy palm. - -Upon our coming, a poor creature, pale and emaciated, had risen without -showing any surprise. - -“Mrs. MacMahon, _Sor_! Everilda Matilda, a French gentleman who honours -our house by stopping a moment in it. Call the children, my dear; the -gentleman will be pleased to see them, I think.” - -A tall girl with brown eyes first presents herself, then a boy between -twelve and thirteen years old, then a variety of younger fry. I am told -that Mary has passed successfully her “standards,” that Tim has just -begun Latin with an ultimate view to become a priest “like his uncle -Jack;” then the “mountain dew” is produced. It is a kind of home-made -whisky, not unpalatable. - -At last mine host turns to his wife. - -“Supposing, my dear, you show your lace to the French gentleman, to let -him see what you can do when you are not bed-ridden. Perhaps he will -like to bring back some little remembrance of Killarney to his ‘lady.’” - -I was caught. - -Everilda Matilda instantly produced a box containing cuffs and collars -of Irish point, and all that remains to me to do, if I am not ready to -forfeit my rights to the qualification of gentleman, is to buy a few -guineas’ worth. Hardly is the matter over, than MacMahon turns to the -future ecclesiastic— - -“And you, Tim, will you not show the gentleman those sticks you polish so -well?” - -Caught again! - -If each member of the family has his own private trade, the -_mountain-dew_ threatens to be rather an expensive refreshment. - -“I am greatly obliged to you,” I said, “but I have got already a complete -collection of _shillelaghs_.” - -MacMahon’s jaw fell visibly. - -“But we could perhaps make another arrangement, that would be more -advantageous,” I continued quietly. “You know the country well, you tell -me?” - -“As a man who has lived forty years in it and never left it.” - -“Well, let us have a pair of good hacks; you lead me for a couple of -days across field and country, and show me a dozen authentic cases of -eviction, agrarian violence, or boycottism. If you will undertake this, -and I am satisfied with you, upon our return I will take the whole lot of -lace.” - -You should have seen the glowing faces of the whole family! The affair -was soon settled, and the day after we started. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THROUGH KERRY ON HORSEBACK. - - -It was not two days but six that we spent, my guide and I, visiting -the County Kerry in all directions, examining the crops, asking about -prices, entering cottages and small farms, chatting with anyone that -we supposed capable of giving us information. The rather unexpected -conclusion I arrived at was that the agrarian crisis is more especially -felt in the richest districts, while it can hardly be said to exist in -the poorest parts. Kerry is, in that particular, a true copy of Ireland -on a small scale. It may, in fact, be divided into two perfectly distinct -regions—the plains of the north and the mountains of the south-west. -Those regions offer characteristics as marked in an economical as in a -geographical point of view. - -Another conclusion drawn from my personal intercourse with the Irish -peasant was that nothing is to be got out of him by bullying and -everything by gentle means. If you arrive at an inn and proceed, as -do the English everywhere, to assume a harsh and arrogant tone, you -will experience the greatest difficulties in obtaining even meagre -fare in return for your money. They will pretend they have nothing in -the house, that they are not in the habit of receiving travellers, and -such like stories. If, on the contrary, you at once proclaim yourself -delighted with the country, its manners and its inhabitants; if you risk -a compliment to the hostess or a gentle pinch to the children’s cheek, -the whole house is yours. They will instantly wring the neck of the -solitary chicken promenading in front of the house; they will exhibit -clean table-linen; they will rush to the neighbour and borrow a salad -or some fruit; they will even unearth from some dark corner a bottle -of old port. If you give this impromptu supper only half the praise it -deserves, you may count on a luxurious breakfast for the next morning. -These poor people are thus made. Their heart is warm; their sensibilities -are quick. The least thing discourages them; the least thing electrifies -them. In contradiction to the Anglo-Saxon serf, who despises his master -if he treat him with gentleness, Paddy prefers a gracious word to all -the guineas in the kingdom. The philosophical reason for the failure of -the British in Ireland (and elsewhere) is perhaps chiefly to be found in -their general want of human sympathy. The Englishman speaks too often -like a slave-driver when he should speak like an elder brother. - - * * * * * - - THE PLAIN. - -The plains of North Kerry must be classed among the best land in -the isle. This is not saying that they are first-class. But they -evidently only need some outlay in drainage and manure and a few modern -improvements in culture to rival our Normandy pastures. It is above -all a land of grazing fields and butter; the grass in the meadows is -green and luxuriant; the cows look strong and well. It is evident that -the least effort would be sufficient to make agricultural enterprise a -thriving business. But carelessness and want of thrift are plainly shown -on all sides. Everywhere dung hills, placed just in front of the cottage -doors, pour into the ditch the clearest of their virtue. The gardens are -ill-kept, the fields transformed into bog for want of a drain seventy -feet long. One sees oats so invaded by thistles that it must be a sheer -impossibility to get the grain out. In other fields oats rot standing, -because no one takes care to cut them in time. Nowhere is any sign shown -of vigorous enterprise or activity. Not only do routine and sloth reign -all over the country, but one might be tempted to believe in a general -conspiracy for wasting the gratuitous gifts of Mother Nature without any -profit to anybody. - -Yet the country looks relatively rich. The peasantry have good clothes, -they despise potatoes, eat bread and meat, drink beer or tea, send -their children to school, and appear peculiarly wide awake to their own -interests. Are they really, as they declare, unable to pay their rents? -That is possible, for the principal products of the country—corn, oats, -barley, butter, beef, and mutton, wool and potatoes—have undergone for -the last three years a considerable depreciation, estimated at from 15 to -35 per cent. But this depreciation is evidently not felt by a diminution -of comfort for the rural populations, here at least. The contrary might -even be admitted. In any case there is evidently no question of a crisis -of famine such as has so often been seen in this island for the last -fifty years. The malady is something else. It is the malady of a people -to whom it has been repeated for half a century that the land they live -on has been stolen from them by strangers; a people who rightly or -wrongly believe this to be the case; a people who have entered, under the -direction of a central committee of politicians, on a regular struggle -with the landlords; who profit by all economical incidents, especially -the fall of prices, if not openly to denounce the treaty, at least to -refuse to execute its articles. - -A few facts noted in passing will explain the situation better than all -discourses. - -A large dairy farm, the finest I have yet seen in the country. The -buildings are new, the fields covered with thick dark grass. I number -sixty-five cows. All the dairy appointments are handsome and well-kept. -The farmer looks prosperous. Clearly he lives at ease, judging by -the furniture of the house, the quality of his clothes, by the very -liberality with which he receives us, and by the brandy which he offers -us (he is a friend of my guide). His rent is £100 a year. He does not -mean to pay his next term. (_I don’t think I will pay this gale._) His -landlord offers to him the sale of his land for a sum of eighteen years’ -rent, according to the official plan. If he followed that system all he -would have to do would be to pay annually during forty-nine years the sum -of £78, less by nearly a third than the present farm rent; he would then -become a proprietor. He refuses. Why? - -“Indeed?” he says, with a wink, “engage myself for forty-nine years!... -_Why! I shall have the land for nothing in two or three years!_...” - - * * * * * - -Another well-to-do farmer driving in a dog-cart with his two daughters. -The trap is new, the harness smart, the horse strong and well groomed. -The damsels wear Dublin hats and white woollen dresses not unfashionable -in cut. - -“That’s what enrages the landlords,” my guide says to me; “it is to see -tenants come in this style to the Tralee races, cheerfully lose twenty -guineas upon a horse, then, when the time for paying the rent arrives, -coolly ask for a 40 per cent. reduction on their half-year’s rent....” - -“... And in fact it must be enough to make a saint swear!...” he adds -philosophically. “But after all, the landlords might be content with the -60 per cent. they get ... I am sure they get it cheap enough ... they -may think themselves lucky to have even that much, as the interest of -confiscated land!...” - -That notion of the land being held by its actual detentors through -confiscation, may be unfounded in some cases, or even in the majority -of cases, but none the less one finds it at the bottom of all Irish -syllogisms. And in such cases the real value of the premiss is of little -importance; what matters only is the conclusion drawn from it. - - * * * * * - -A few middling and small farmers. - -_Maurice Macnamara_, Shinnagh: rent, £48 a year; seventeen cows, eight -pigs, two horses and one donkey; grass fields, oats, and potatoes; four -children, of which one is over twenty years of age. Was able to pay his -rent, but was forbidden to do so by the other tenants on the estate, -and was in consequence seized by order of the landlord. His neighbours -offered to help him to resist the execution. He begged to be left alone, -and the moment of the sale having come, he personally bought all his -cattle up to the sum due. Nett result of the operation: £11 to pay, over -and above the six months’ rent. Personal opinion of Maurice Macnamara: it -is better to pay £11 than to get a bullet through your head. - -_John McCarthy_, Gwingullier: £16 annual rent, due in May and November; -two cows, one horse; oats and potatoes; nine children, the eldest -seventeen. Has paid nothing to his landlord since 1883; owes actually £48 -to him, and as much to divers tradespeople or usurers. Does not know how -he shall get out of it. - -_Patrick Murphy_, Colyherbeer, barony Trughanarkny; was evicted in -November from his holding of £28; owed eighteen months’ rent. Received -from his Landlord the offer of being reinstated in the farm on payment -of half the sum due, on condition that he would let his crops be sold. -Declined the offer, and is perfectly satisfied to receive from the League -relief to the amount of £2 a-week. Never saw himself so well off before. - -_Margaret Callaghan_, a widow, close by the town of Kenmare: £8 16_s._ -4_d._ rent; one pig, six hens; three small children; four acres of -potatoes, three acres waste. Has paid nothing for the last four years. -Owes about £20 to various tradespeople. Is not harshly pressed by her -landlord, and can practically be considered as owning her bit of ground. -Will die of hunger, with her children, the first year the harvest is bad. - - * * * * * - -Molahiffe, on the road to Tralee. - -“This is Mr. Curtin’s house.” - -“And who may Mr. Curtin be?” - -“What! have you never heard of that affair?... He was killed last year by -the Moonlighters.” - -“Killed?... Was he then a party man, a fierce Orangeman?” - -“Mr. Curtin?... Not a bit in the world. He was one of the most peaceable, -the most Irish at heart, the most esteemed man in this part of the -country. His misfortune was to own two rifles. The Moonlighters wanted -those weapons. One night they came and demanded them. The ladies of the -family were ready to give them up, when Mr. Curtin arrived and looked as -if he were going to resist. At once a gun exploded in the passage, and he -fell stone dead.... That was a warning to everybody. Since that time no -one disobeys the moonlighters. But all the same it is unfortunate that -the victim should have been Mr. Curtin.” - -These _Moonlighters_ are the direct descendants of the Whiteboys of -olden times. They band together and gather at night for the purpose of -invading a farm, a solitary house. They are always masked, but sometimes -in a very elementary fashion, by pulling down their hat or cap over the -face and making two holes through it for the eyes. Normally they ought to -search only for arms and to take only arms. But everything degenerates, -and the use of force often leads to the abuse of it. The Moonlighters -not unfrequently demand a supper, a sum of money, not to speak of the -company of some farm-wench to whom they may take a fancy. This impartial -offering of violence to house and inmates might lead them far, were they -not certain of the discretion of the victims. But the terror they inspire -secures impunity to them. - -Though everybody in a district knows perfectly well who the intruders -are, and though they have often been recognized in spite of the mask, no -one dares to reveal their name. They are all too well aware that in case -of denunciation a nocturnal bullet will come unerringly to the offender. -Besides, a sort of poetical halo and a political mantle of immunity -surrounds men who may sometimes, indeed, carry their zeal a little too -far, but are after all soldiers in the good cause. The “legitimate” -industry of the Moonlighters allows their excesses to be forgotten. A -sort of general complicity covers and favours their expeditions. - -That complicity goes sometimes to great lengths—for instance the length -of non-admitting the intervention of the police in a house where the -Moonlighters are performing. The constables perambulating the country -hear screams, desperate appeals for help in a farmhouse. They rush to it -headlong and knock at the door. At once silence reigns. They are asked -from the inside of the house what they want. - -“We heard screams. Do you not want protection?” - -“What business is that of yours?” is the answer. “Go on your way, and do -not come interfering and preventing honest folks enjoying the possession -of their house undisturbed!...” - -The unlucky constables can only beat a retreat and go their round, often -to meet shortly with the Moonlighters, who will laugh at them, having -comfortably finished their business. - -Before the judges the same thing occurs. Not a witness will give -evidence. And if by chance a witness does speak, the jury take care to -correct this grave breach of etiquette in their verdict. - -The witness, as well as the juryman, has often received a warning. -Working alone in the fields, or following a lonely path, he has suddenly -seen a little puff of white smoke going up from the bushes some feet in -front of him, and he has heard a bullet whizzing over his head. It was a -Moonlighter telling him:— - -“Be silent, or thou art a dead man.” - -Castleisland. A small town of little interest, after the pattern of most -Irish boroughs. We stop for lunch at a tavern of rather good appearance, -and clearly very popular with the natives. The innkeeper smokes a cigar -with us. Is he satisfied with the state of affairs? Yes and no. Certainly -he cannot complain—trade in liquor is rather brisk. But there are too -many places where one can buy drink in the town—no less than fifty-one. - -“And do they all prosper?” - -“Nearly all.” - -“What may their average receipts be?” - -“I should say about £400 a year.” - -£400 multiplied by fifty-one gives £20,400, more than 510,000 francs. And -there is not in this place any other industry than agriculture, while -statistics I have this moment in my pocket inform me that the aggregate -rental of Castleisland is not above £14,000. It is then evident that, -times good, times bad, they drink every year here £6,000 worth more -in beer and spirits than they would pay in rent to the landlords, if -they chose to pay. This seems to be conclusive, as far as Castleisland -is concerned. But is there really any reason why the tenants of this -district should turn total abstainers for the special purpose of paying -the claret and champagne bills of half-a-dozen absentees? Here is the -whole problem in a nutshell. - -Tralee. The big town of the county, what we should call in France the -_chef-lieu_, the seat of the assizes. They are opened precisely at this -moment. There are on the rolls three men charged with agrarian murder. I -proposed to go and be present at the trials, when I heard that the three -cases were to be remanded to the next session, the representative of the -Crown having come to the conclusion that the jury would systematically -acquit the prisoners, as is so often the case in Ireland. - -The Chairman of the Assizes, Mr. Justice O’Brien, seized this occasion to -declare, that in the course of an already long career he had never met -with a jury having so little regard for their duty. “It must be known -widely,” he added, “the law becomes powerless when the course of justice -is systematically impeded by the very jurymen, as we see it in this -country; in which case there is no longer any security for persons or -property.” - -To which the people in Kerry answer that they do not care a bit for -English law; what they want is good Irish laws, made in Dublin by an -Irish Parliament. - -“It is quite true that we have no security here for persons or property,” -a doctor of the town said to me in the evening. “The outrages were at -first exclusively directed against the landlords, rightly or wrongly -accused of injustice and harshness in their dealings with their tenants; -but for the last two or three years the field of nocturnal aggression -has enlarged greatly—a shot now serves to settle any personal quarrel -and even trade accounts. In the beginning the jury at least made a -distinction between the different motives that actuated the accused. -Now they always acquit them, _because they no longer dare to find them -guilty_.... What will you have?... Jurymen are but men. They prefer -sending a ruffian at large to paying with their life a too subtle -distinction between crimes of an agrarian character and those of another -sort. A lump of lead is the most irresistible of arguments. One may -assert that presently law has lost all influence in Kerry. It is rapine -that reigns, hardly tempered by the decrees of the National League, which -of course means only legitimate resistance to the landlords, and by the -fund of righteousness possessed at heart by the nation. But let things go -on thus only for two years more, we shall have gone back to the savage -state.” - -“Some people tell me, however, that raiding for money is never seen in -this part of Ireland.” - -“Raiding for money never seen! I would rather say it is the latest -development of moonlighting. Any one who covets a piece of his -neighbour’s land, who wishes to influence his vote for a board of -guardians, who is animated by any motive of vulgar greed or spite, has -only to set the Moonlighters in motion. The machinery is at hand.” - -“Could you really give me a few recent instances of moonlighting for -money?” - -“Of course I could. There is one Daniel Moynihan, at Freemount, near -Rathmore: in October, 1886, a party of six men with blackened faces -entered his house at night, and breaking open a box, carried away all -his money. In January, 1887, at Ballinillane, three men armed with guns -entered Daniel Lyne’s house and asked for money, threatening to shoot him -if he refused; they took away £6. At Faha, in March, 1887, a party of -six armed men visited the house of Mr. E. Morrogh Bernard; they demanded -money, and got what was in the house.”[2] - -“You don’t say the League has anything to do with such obvious cases of -non-political moonlighting, do you? It is a well-known fact that the -organization discountenances moonlighting as well as all other violent -practices.” - -“It does in a manner, but at the same time, by forming in each district -a kind of police of the League, an executive body ready for action, it -singles out to malignant persons men who may be ready for a private job.” - -There is obviously considerable exaggeration, or, rather, distortion of -facts, in the above statement, as in everything relating to the League -on one side or the other. The truth is probably that ruffians, when they -want a job in the house-breaking line, ask for nobody’s permission, but -are only too glad to take moonlighting as a pretence; and thus, common -breaches of the law which in ordinary times would go by their proper -name, are now ascribed to Moonlighters. The bulk of the population, which -is thoroughly honest, has only words of contempt and hatred for what, -in justice, should rather be called a deviation than a development of -moonlighting. - - * * * * * - -Nine o’clock at night. In a hollow on the road to Milltown, a man tries -to hide himself behind some shrubs; but perceiving that we do not belong -to the neighbourhood he shows himself. He is a constable clad in -uniform, the black helmet on his head, a loaded gun on his shoulder. - -“Why do you seek to avoid attention?” - -“Because we are watching that farm-house there on the height, my comrades -and I; we have received information to the effect that some men propose -to attack it one of these nights; now, we must try not to be seen by the -people on the farm, for they would hasten to tell their assailants.” - -“What! these people would denounce you to those who come to rob them?” - -“Just so. We have to protect them against their will. Oh! it is indeed a -nice trade to be a constable in Ireland!” &c. &c. - -Then follow professional complaints that throw a curious light on -the relations between police and population. The unhappy constables -are _boycotted_ personally and as a body. Nobody speaks to them. It -is next to impossible for them to procure the first necessaries of -life. Government has to distribute rations to them as to soldiers on a -campaign. If they want a conveyance, a cart to transport a detachment -of the public force where their presence is wanted, nobody—even among -the principal interested—will give means of transport either for gold or -silver. The Government have had to give the constabulary special traps -that are constantly to be met on the roads, and that one recognizes by -their blood-red colour. - -That police corps, _the Irish Constabulary Force_, is very numerous, and -entails great expense—more than one million and a half sterling per year. -The cost would hardly be half a million if the Irish police were on the -same footing as the English force; that fact alone can give an adequate -idea of the real state of things. Besides, numerous auxiliaries, called -_Emergency men_, are always ready to give their help to the regular corps. - -Be they soldiers or policemen, Great Britain keeps nearly 50,000 armed -men in Ireland. The male adult and able population of the island being -under 500,000 men, of whom 200,000 at least are opposed to the agrarian -and autonomist movement, one can assume that there is on an average one -armed soldier or constable for every six unarmed Irishmen. - - * * * * * - -On the dusty road before us are slowly walking five cows in rather an -emaciated condition. Those beasts strike me by an odd appearance which -I am unable to make out at first. When I am close to them I see what it -is: _they have no tails_. The absence of that ornament gives the poor -animals the awkwardest and most absurd look. - -I turn to my guide, who is laughing in his sleeve. - -“Look at their master!” he whispers in a low voice. - -“Well?” - -“The cows have no tails, and the man has no ears....” - -It is true. The unlucky wretch vainly endeavoured to hide his head, as -round as a cheese, under the brim of his battered old hat; he did not -succeed in hiding his deformity. - -“By Jove! who arranged you in this guise, you and your cows?” I said to -the poor devil, stopping before him. - -He made a few grimaces before explaining; but the offer of a cigar, that -rarely misses its effect, at last unloosed his tongue. He then told me -that the Moonlighters had come with a razor to cut his ears, a week after -having cut the tails of his cows as a warning. - -“And what could have been the motive of such cowardly, barbarous -mutilation?” - -He had accepted work on a _boycotted_ farm, though the League had -expressly forbidden it; in other words, he was what the Irish call a -“land-grabber.” - -“Where are you going with your cows?” - -“To sell them at Listowel, if I may, which is not certain.” - -“Why is it not certain? Because they are unprovided with a tail? At the -worst that would only prevent them being made into ox-tail soup,” I say, -trying to enliven the conversation by an appropriate joke. - -“That’s not it,” answers the man. “But the interdict applies to the sale -of the cows as well as to having any intercourse with me. I am forbidden -to buy anything, and anyone speaking to me is fined two shillings.” - -He seemed to think this perfectly natural and even just, like the Leper -of the “Cité d’Aoste,” or like common convicts when one talks to them of -their punishment. - -“I gambled and I lost—so much the worse for me!...” all his resigned -attitude seemed to say. - -“Perhaps they don’t know it yet in Listowel!” he resumed with a sigh, and -hopefully pushed on with his cows. - - * * * * * - -“Have there been many cases of such agrarian mutilation in the country?” -I ask MacMahon. - -“No,” said my guide. “Perhaps half a dozen or so within the year.[3] -They used to be much more numerous, but somehow they seem to go out of -fashion under the sway of the League. But there are still other ways -of annoying the enemy; fires are very frequent, so are blows, personal -injuries, and even murder, threatening letters, and, above all, verbal -intimidation.” - -Such proceedings, I understand, are altogether disowned by the chiefs -of the League, who only patronise _boycotting_. Let a farmer, small or -great, decline to enter the organisation, or check it by paying his rent -to the landlord without the reduction agreed to by the tenantry, or take -the succession of an evicted tenant on his holding, or commit any other -serious offence against the law of land war, he is at once boycotted. -That is to say, he will no longer be able to sell his goods, to buy the -necessaries of life, to have his horses shod, his corn milled, or even -to exchange one word with a living soul, within a circuit of fifteen to -twenty miles round his house. His servants are tampered with and induced -to leave him, his tradespeople are made to shut their door in his face, -his neighbours compelled to cut him. It is a kind of excommunication, -social, political and commercial; an interdict sometimes aggravated with -direct vexations. People come and play football on his oat fields, his -potatoes are rooted out, his fish or cattle poisoned, his game destroyed. - -“But supposing that instead of bearing meekly such indignities, he shows -a bold front, shoulders his gun and keeps watch?” - -“Then his business is settled. Some day or other, he will receive a -bullet in his arm, if not in his head.” - - * * * * * - -It will not perhaps be unnecessary to explain here the origin of that -word _boycott_, so frequently used during the late few years. Everybody -knows that on the British side of the Channel, but the French reader is -not bound to remember it so exactly. - -In September, 1881, at a mass meeting held in Clare County, Mr. Parnell -almost without being aware of the importance of his words, advised his -friends, to exclude from the pale of social life whoever should eject -a tenant for reason of an unpaid rent, or take the succession of the -evicted farmer. - -The first application of that new penalty fell upon a certain Captain -Boycott, a retired officer, who had applied himself to agriculture. -Having had occasion to evict an obdurate defaulter, he saw himself within -a few days forsaken by his servants, tabooed by his neighbours, reduced -to dig out his own potatoes, and generally to become his own valet. - -The affair produced great sensation. The whole press talked about it. -Legions of reporters flocked to the spot to follow the phases of the -war waged between Captain Boycott and his opponents. Upon a memorable -occasion a regular army of Orangemen, 7000 strong, they say, came over -from Ulster to give a lift to him and help him to get in the harvest -which threatened to rot standing. But the place became too hot for -Captain Boycott. He was obliged to give way at last and leave his place -in Connaught. (By the way, he ultimately returned there, and is now quite -popular.) - -In the meanwhile his name, used as a proverb, or rather as a _verb_, -has come to describe a way of intimidation, which at the hands of the -League is a redoubtable weapon, more powerful than a hundred batteries of -100-ton guns. - - * * * * * - -“Could you show me anybody who is actually under boycott?” - -“Could I? That will not be difficult. There! Mr. Kennedy, beyond that -clump of trees. He has been boycotted eighteen months.” - -“Do you think I might call on him?” - -“Certainly. But I shall ask leave to wait for you outside the gate, sir, -on account of the League of course.——You may laugh at its verdict, not I.” - -Ten minutes later, I was at Mr. Kennedy’s gate. A little country house -rather decayed, in the middle of grounds which no gardener has seen for -at least two years. Nobody in sight. I try the bell-rope. It remains in -my hand. I am then reduced to an energetic tattoo on the plate which -shuts the lower part of the gate. - -Attracted by the unusual noise, a tall white-haired man makes his -appearance at an upper window. Surprised at first, and even somewhat -alarmed, he listens to my request, is reassured, and even comes to unbar -the door. As I had hoped, he is not sorry to unloose his tongue a little, -and with the best grace possible tells me the whole affair. - -“Yes, I am boycotted for having, single among all his tenants, paid to -my landlord the entire rent of those meadows you see yonder. How do I -take my situation? Well, as a philosopher. At the beginning, I thought -it inconvenient to be deprived of new bread, to do without meat, and -worse still, to be left without servants. But I have learnt by degrees -to accommodate myself to my new condition. I have made provisions for -a siege. I have found a few servants, strangers to the district, and -made my arrangements to send my butter to Cork by rail. On the whole, -there is not much to complain of. I should, of course, prefer things -to follow their usual course. It is tedious at times to find oneself -out of the pale of humanity. But you end by discovering that solitude -has its advantages. You develop accomplishments up to that time latent -in you. For instance, I shoe my horses myself; I have learnt to set a -window pane, to sweep a chimney. My daughters have improved in cooking. -We eat a great many chickens; now and then we kill a sheep; when we want -butcher-meat, we must send rather far for it. The same for beer, wine, -and many other commodities. It _is_ inconvenient—no more.” - - * * * * * - -At Listowel; a market day. Great animation on the market-place; tongues -are busy; whisky seems to be flowing freely at every tap-room and -tavern. But not much business is done, as far as I can judge. My guide -calls my attention to two interesting phenomena that I should not, -perhaps, have noticed otherwise. - -The first is a man in breeches, with bare calves, a _shillelagh_ under -his arm, who seems to be a farmer in a small way. He approaches a -wheel-barrow filled with big hob-nailed shoes, which a woman is dragging, -and falls to examining them, evidently intent on buying a pair. Almost -at the same moment, a boy of fifteen or sixteen comes to the other side -of the woman and whispers something in her ear. She nods. At once the -customer, turning very red in the face, lets go the pair of shoes and -turns away. MacMahon says the man is a newly boycotted man and the boy an -agent of the League, whose function consists in reporting the interdict -to those who have not heard of it as yet. - -The other phenomenon is more remarkable. It is a stout gentleman in a -shooting-jacket, carrying a double-barrelled gun of the latest model, and -followed by a constable who also carries his regulation gun. The stout -gentleman stops before a door where a smart _outside car_ with a servant -in livery is waiting for him. He takes his seat; the constable jumps -on after him. Is the stout gentleman under a writ of _habeas corpus_, -I wonder, and is he going to be taken into the county jail? Not a bit -of it. He is simply a landowner under threat of death, who has thought -fit to indulge in a body-guard. He and the constable are henceforth -inseparable. - - * * * * * - -A large tract of uncultivated land. It was farmed at £60 a year. The -farmer was a sporting man, fond of races and the like. To simplify his -work he had the whole property converted into pasture. But his expensive -mode of living obliged him now and then to sell a few head of cattle. The -hour came when he had not one calf left, and he found himself utterly -incapable of paying his rent. He was evicted. Sure not to find another -tenant, on account of the law laid down by the League that every evicted -farm should be left unoccupied, the landlord had recourse to the only -sort of _métayage_ known in Ireland. (_Métayage_, it should be explained, -is the kind of farming used in most French provinces, where the owner of -the land enters into yearly partnership with his tenant, and advances the -necessary capital in the shape of manure, seed, beasts of burden, and -machinery, on the understanding that the crops be shared equally between -himself and the tenant.) To return to my Kerry landlord: he set up on -his meadows a caretaker, with a salary of twenty-five shillings a week -and forty cows to keep. At the end of the first month the tails of ten -cows had been chopped off, while two of them had died from suspicious -inflammation of the bowels. It became necessary to put the cows, and -the caretaker as well, under the protection of a detachment of police. -Cost: two pounds a week for each constable. Nett loss at the end of the -half-year: £60. The landlord wisely judged that it would be much better -to send his cows to the slaughter-house, to pay off caretaker and police, -and to forget that he ever was a landowner. - -In the same district, another farm gone waste. The tenant did not pay. -He was evicted, but had another holding close by, where he encamped, and -from that vantage-ground sent the following ultimatum to his _ci-devant_ -landlord:—“The hay I have left on my late farm is worth £30. I demand -fifteen for allowing you to mow and sell it; you shall not see a shilling -of it on any other terms.” Fury of the landlord. Then he cools down, -thinks better of it, offers ten pounds. The evicted tenant declines the -offer; a whole army would not have brought him round. Meanwhile, the hay -got rotten. - -By the road-side near Castlemaine, is a row of barracks, where men, -women, and children are huddled together. Those are _League-huts_, -that is to say, a temporary shelter which the League offers to ejected -tenants, for having, upon its command, declined to pay their rent. The -cabins from which the poor wretches have been turned out, although they -had, as a rule, built them themselves, are within shooting distance, on -the right hand. They bear evident traces of having been fired by the -sheriff’s officers in order to make them uninhabitable, and they present -the desolate aspect of homesteads adjoining a field of battle. Walls -broken by the crowbar, doors ajar, rubbish and ruins everywhere. Is it -politic on the part of the landlords to add the horrors of fire to those -of eviction? Hardly so, the outsider will think. It adds nothing to -the majesty of the law to wage war with inanimate things. The exercise -of a right ought never to assume the appearance of an act of revenge. -Wrongly or rightly, eviction by itself always bears an odious character; -but to see the house you have built with your own hands burnt to the -ground will ever seem to cry for vengeance to Heaven. And, after all, -who is the gainer by such violence? The League. It takes care to retain -the victims of eviction within sight of the scene of their woes, feeds -them, harbours them, exhibits them as in an open museum, by the side of -their destroyed homes. And it is a permanent, practical lesson for the -passer-by, a realistic drama where the landlord appears torch in hand, -while the League dries the tears of the afflicted and allows them £2 a -week. That is the usual pay for one family. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -A KERRY FARMER’S BUDGET. - - -“I wonder how landlords can manage to live, under such conditions,” I -said to my guide. “Are there any tenants left paying their rent?” - -“There are many. First, those who have been able to come to an agreement -with their landlord about the reduction of 20, 25, 30 per cent. that they -claimed; in such cases the landlord’s income is reduced, but at least -he still retains a part of it. Then, there is the tenant’s live stock; -he cannot prevent its being seized for rent, in case of execution, and -consequently chooses to pay, if possible, or he would have to sell his -cattle to avoid distress, which means ruin to the family. Lastly, there -are the tenants who pay secretly, although pretending to adhere to the -rules of the League—_backsliders_ they are called—a class more numerous -than could be supposed at first sight.” - -Here MacMahon laughed. He went on: - -“I will tell you, Sir, a story I have heard lately, of a man in county -Cork, who wanted to pay his landlord but dared not, on account of the -other tenants on the estate. Coming across the landlord on a lone road -(not improbably after many an unfruitful attempt for such a propitious -opportunity) he stood before him in a threatening attitude. ‘Put your -hand in my coat’s inside pocket!’ he said gruffly. The landlord did not -understand at first what the man meant, and considering his look and -address, was far from feeling reassured. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked -uneasily. ‘I tell you, sir, put your hand in my coat’s inside pocket, and -feel for what you find in it.’ At last the landlord did as he was bidden. -He put his hand in the man’s pocket, and extracted from it a bundle of -papers, carefully tied up, that looked like banknotes. At once the tenant -took to his heels. ‘The devil a penny of rent you can ever say I paid -you,’ said he, in the same strange threatening tone of voice, as he ran -away. Still, the banknotes in the landlord’s hand were exactly to the -amount of the rent due. As a rule, when the tenant is really able to pay -his rent, he pays it.” - -Such has not been the general case, it seems, for the last three years. -_In produce_, perhaps the Irish farmer might have paid his rent, as the -crops have been, on the whole, fairly up to the average. In _money_, he -cannot, because the fall of prices on hay, potatoes, beef, mutton, pork, -and butter alike, in 1885, 1886, 1887, has been at least 20 per cent. on -the former and average prices, which not only means no margin whatever of -profit to the farmer, besides his necessary expenses, but in most cases -the sheer impossibility of providing for the forthcoming outlay in seeds, -manure, and labour. - -This may not be self-evident. Many a reader probably fails to see why -a fall of 20 per cent. on the prices of agricultural produce must -necessarily entail a total disability to pay the rent. “I can well -understand the demand of a proportional reduction of rent in such cases,” -he will say, “but not absolute non-payment.” To fully realise the -situation, one must go into the details of a farmer’s life. - -Let us take the case of Denis O’Leary, a Kerry man, with fourteen acres -of good land. He seems to be in easy circumstances; his house is clean -and pretty; he owns three cows, two sows, ten sheep, and about a score -hens. Denis O’Leary is a good man, industrious and thrifty, who does all -the work on his farm, with the help of wife and three children. He likes -his pipe of tobacco, and on Sundays, a glass of beer over the counter -with a friend or two, but otherwise indulges in no expensive habits. On -the whole he can be considered a pattern tenant, as well as one of the -most fortunate of his class. His rent, which had been gradually raised by -his landlord up to the sum of £11 6_s._, was in 1883 put down at £8 7_s._ -by the Land Commissioners. - -Such being the case, when we are told that the same Denis O’Leary, who -was for five years able to pay the larger rent, is now unable to pay -the smaller one, this may look absurd. Still, it is the simple truth. -To ascertain the fact, it is only necessary to make the budget of the -O’Leary family. - -The yearly expenditure, unavoidable and irreducible, is as follows:— - -EXPENDITURE. - - £ _s._ - Taxes, rates, and county cess 1 15 - Turf (Royalty on) 1 10 - Clothing and shoes 6 10 - Meat 2 15 - Bread 6 18 - Beer and tobacco 2 5 - Oil, candles, sundries 2 15 - Sugar and tea 6 5 - School fees 0 7 - Church subscription 0 10 - ------ - Total 31 10 - -Most assuredly there is nothing excessive in such a budget of expenditure -for a family of four. If even it is possible for Denis O’Leary not to -go beyond its narrow limits, it is because he consumes in kind a large -proportion of the produce of his fourteen acres, namely, some hundred -stones of potatoes, with a good deal of milk, eggs, and butter. This -alimentary deduction duly made, he has still a certain quantity of -agricultural produce (which shall be supposed here a constant quantity) -to sell, as follows:— - - 1800 lbs. Potatoes. - 2200 ” Wheat. - 1750 ” Oats. - 38 ” Wool. - 116 ” Butter. - 1000 ” Straw. - 25 dozen Eggs. - 3 Pigs. - 2 Calves. - 3 Lambs. - -The above commodities have not, unfortunately, a constant value. They -sell more or less, according to the fluctuations of prices on the market. -In 1882, 1883, 1884, prices were high. Denis O’Leary’s revenue was -consequently as under:— - -REVENUE (THREE YEARS AGO). - - £ _s._ - Sold: 1800 lbs. Potatoes 3 8 - 2200 ” Wheat 9 0 - 1750 ” Oats 6 4 - 38 ” Wool 1 15 - 116 ” Butter 5 7 - 1000 ” Straw; 1 5 - 25 dozen Eggs 1 2 - 3 Pigs 5 10 - 2 Calves 6 15 - 3 Lambs 3 5 - ------ - Total 43 11 - -When Denis O’Leary had deducted from his revenue of £43 11_s._ the yearly -expenditure of £31 10_s._, he had still £12 1_s._ left. He was able, -accordingly, to pay £8 _7s._ rent (or even £11 6_s._ before the judicial -reduction), and the rent duly paid, he was still the proud nett gainer of -four shillings under the old _régime_, of £3 14_s._ under the new. - -Unhappily, prices fell down in 1885, 1886, and 1887, to the tune of 25 -or 30 per cent. on nearly all agricultural produce, with the exception -perhaps of oats and eggs, so that the revenue of the O’Leary family (all -things otherwise equal) has come to be as under:— - -REVENUE (AT PRESENT). - - £ _s._ - Sold: 1800 lbs. Potatoes 2 8 - 2200 ” Wheat 7 0 - 1750 ” Oats 6 2 - 38 ” Wool 1 5 - 116 ” Butter 3 12 - 1000 ” Straw 0 15 - 25 dozen Eggs 1 5 - 3 Pigs 3 4 - 2 Calves 4 8 - 3 Lambs 2 10 - ------ - Total 32 9 - -Thus, the revenue and expenditure are nearly equal, with a slight balance -of nineteen shillings, that could hardly be proffered for rent. Local -usurers are not wanting, of course, who will advance to Denis O’Leary the -necessary funds, at 10 or 15 per cent., if he wants to pay the landlord, -all the same. But then his budget is no more in a state of equilibrium: -deficit enters it, to widen every year up to the final catastrophe. In -other words, Denis O’Leary cannot pay the rent, unless he draws on his -capital. One may well understand that he should not relish the idea, -considering especially that the landlord’s rack-rent has been reduced -three years ago in the Land Court, and that the same landlord demurs to -a fresh reduction, so obviously just and necessary that all landlords in -England have granted it of their own free will these last three years. - -And Denis O’Leary is a wonder in his class: he is an industrious, -hard-working, wise man, without a penny of previous debt. He has -precisely the area of land adequate to his means, and the live-stock -indispensable to manure the soil. He does not drink, he does not gamble, -he is never ill, he has no old people to support, he has not experienced -failures or mishaps of any kind, and his crops are fairly up to the -average. - -Let us come back, however, to the world as it is, and see Man with his -foibles, his usual neglects, errors, and mishaps. Let us suppose that -he has more land on his hands than he can well manage to till, or that -his holding, on the contrary, is too small for his wants. Let us suppose -that instead of selling three pigs and two calves, he was not able to -rear them, or lost them from disease; that instead of bringing to market -1,800 lbs. of potatoes he had to buy some hundred-weight of the same for -domestic consumption—the man is lost, irretrievably lost. Not only will -he never be able to pay the landlord one farthing, but it will be enough -that the crops should be slightly under the average to make a hopeless -beggar of him—a case of outdoor or indoor relief for the parish. - -Now, these are the circumstances of six or seven tenants out of ten in -the lowlands of Kerry, where they seem to be comparatively well off. If -we leave the plains for the higher districts bordering on the sea, the -question is simpler still. There is no need of long accounts here. The -hour of irretrievable misery has struck long ago, and habitual hunger -stares us in the face. - - * * * * * - - UP IN THE MOUNTAINS. - -The mountains of Kerry are the finest in the island. They form its -south-western angle, throwing out on the Atlantic the peninsula of -Dingle, between the bay of the same name and the Kenmare River. As you -leave the plain following the Cahirciveen road towards the coast, you see -them develop their parallel ranges, which are divided by deep valleys. -Some of these valleys are fertile, being watered by impetuous streams -from the mountain side. But the general impression one receives is -that of agricultural poverty, as is the case in nearly all mountainous -countries in the world. Pastures are thinner, cattle less numerous, -homesteads fewer and more miserable than in the plain. Human creatures -themselves partake of the general look of wretchedness that prevails. -They live on potatoes, milk, and porridge; seldom eat bread, meat never; -wine, beer, tea, coffee are to them unknown luxuries. Their ill-shaped -cottages are made of soft stone, with a thatched roof maintained by ropes -made of straw. There they all sleep on a bed of rushes, which they share -with the pig, when there is such a thing, for even the traditional pig -has become now a symptom of wealth in a manner. On the beams of the roof -roost perhaps half-a-dozen hens and chickens. - -Sloth and dirt hold here an undivided sway. Not a woman—and some are -pretty—seems to mind the spots and holes in her garments; not one knows -the use of soap or needle. They appear to have a rooted dislike for -the comb; their hair falls on their back as is the fashion among the -Australian aborigines, in nature’s simple disorder. - -Men look heavy and apathetic. They work as little as they can manage—one -or two days out of seven, perhaps—and do not even think of seeking their -sustenance from the sea, which is so close to them. The most they can do -is to draw from it now and then a cart-load of seaweed to manure their -miserable plot of ground. Their existence rolls on dull, idle, devoid of -interest. It is the brute life in its most wretched and hideous state. -Here is old Ireland as Gustave de Beaumont’s admirable book showed it -to us fifty years ago. Hardly do those wretched products of Anglo-Saxon -civilization receive a faint echo of the outer world when the electoral -time comes. - -The consequence is that the agrarian crisis is reduced here to its -simplest expression, _i.e._, sheer impossibility to pay the rent -because of total absence of the £ _s._ _d._ wherewith. Elsewhere that -impossibility may be half assumed; it is certainly mixed in the plain -with bad will, goaded in the peasant’s heart by that dogged desire to -possess the land which is so natural in him. In the mountain it is not a -political fiction that holds the sway: famine is the king; and it is the -spontaneous product of the very nature of things. - -For the naturally infertile soil has reached here to such a degree of -subdivision that it is no longer sufficient even to feed those it bears. -The greater part of those wretched holdings of five or six acres are -let at the nominal price of about £4, to which must be added the taxes, -poor-rates, and county-cess, increasing it by a quarter or a third. Four, -five, six, sometimes ten or twelve beings with human faces squat on that -bit of worthless ground and till it in the most primitive manner. Money, -tools, intelligence, pluck, all are wanting there. Viewing things in the -most optimist light, supposing the year to have been an exceptionally -good one, the potato crop to have been plentiful, the cow to have hunted -out on the hill-side the necessary grass for the making of a little -butter, all that will be sufficient perhaps to prevent starvation. But -where will the money be found to pay Queen and landlord? - -Let a child or an old person eat ever so little in the year, his food -cannot but represent a value. Let that value be £4. Can six acres of -mountain ground managed without skill or manure, render five, six, ten -times £4 a year, and a rent in addition of five to six pounds? It is -sheer impossibility. - -A few examples. - -James Garey, fifty years old, married, four children. Nominal rent £5 -14_s._ Two cows, one pig, eight chickens. About six acres of land. -Cultivates only part of it, about three acres, where he grows potatoes; -the remainder is pasture. Sold this year thirty shillings’ worth of -butter; ate his potatoes from first to last; has not paid a farthing to -his landlord for the last four years. Owes £6 to the draper-grocer; would -never be able to pay his taxes if two of his children, who are out in -domestic situations, did not send him the necessary amount to prevent -execution. - -Widow Bridget Molony, sixty years old; five children; seven acres of -land. Nominal rent £6 12_s._ Four cows, an eighteen-month-old calf, two -pigs, twenty chickens. Sold £3 10_s._ of butter this year, £2 oats, -15 shillings potatoes, and a pig for £3; just sent a calf to market, -offering it for £1 15_s._; did not find purchaser. Thinks herself -relatively lucky, as she is owing only two years’ rent to her landlord. -Two of her children have situations at Liverpool, and help her to pay the -taxes. - -Thomas Halloran, forty years. Three children, eight acres of land; rent -£6 15_s._ Two cows, fifteen sheep, a pig, an ass, twelve chickens. Sold -during the year ten shillingsworth of butter and ten sheep at twelve -shillings a head. Has paid nothing to landlord since November, 1884. - -Michael Tuohy, seventy years old, three children, four grandchildren. -Nine acres of land, £7 rent. A cow and five hens. Can no longer afford -a pig. Sold only fifteen shillingsworth of butter this year, and had to -get rid of two cows out of three to pay the ten per cent interest of a -debt he has contracted with the National Bank. Owes four years’ rent to -his landlord; hopes that his son, who has emigrated to the United States, -will send him the money for the taxes; if the son doesn’t, he cannot see -any way to save the last cow. - -Examples of that description could be multiplied _ad infinitum_; they -are, so to say, the rule in the mountainous districts, where the holdings -are for the most part beneath £10 rent, and totally unequal even to -sustain the farmer. - - * * * * * - -Glenbeigh, between Kilarglin and Cahirciveen. This place was the -theatre of several deplorable scenes in January last, on Mr. R. Winn’s -property. That property, very extensive, but consisting of poor, not to -say totally barren land, was put down at £2000 on the valuation roll. -The aforesaid rent not having been paid during four or five years, the -owner was of course in very strait circumstances; he had to go to some -Jews, who substituted themselves in his place, and undertook to enforce -payment. But the extreme poverty of the tenants proved even stronger than -the energetic tribe. In consequence of the gradual subdivision of the -land, they had come to hold diminutive scraps of it such as could not -even grow the potatoes sufficient for their sustenance. After various -judicial skirmishes, the plain result of which was to establish the utter -incapacity of the peasants to give a penny, the council of creditors -resolved in the depth of winter to undertake a wholesale campaign of -evictions. Seventy-nine writs of ejectment were issued, and soon after -the under-sheriff, backed by a strong detachment of mounted constables, -arrived to evict the wretched families. - -The operations began at a certain Patrick Reardon’s, on a literally -barren land, for which he was expected to pay £4 10_s._ a year. He was -the father of eight children, but did not even possess a pig, not a pair -of chickens. The furniture consisted of a bed, a rickety table and a -kettle. Squatting on the ground with his whole family, according to the -time-honoured custom, he waited for the executors of the law. Requested -to pay, he answered that he possessed not one farthing; he was then -informed that they were going to set fire to his cabin, in order to -oblige him to evacuate the premises. The act soon followed the threat. -A lighted match applied to the thatched roof, and in a few minutes the -whole was in conflagration. All the neighbouring populations, who had run -on to the scene of the tragedy, saluted the dreadful deed with hooting -and execration. - -The myrmidons of the law pursued nevertheless the execution of their -mandate. They went next to the dwelling of another tenant, Thomas -Burke, inscribed on the list of debtors for a sum of £20. He had five -children, and, like the above-mentioned, not one farthing to offer to the -creditors. Order was given to set fire to his roof, but it was found to -be so damp that fire would not take; so they had to attack the walls with -the crowbar and pick-axe. The miserable inmates appeared then to the eyes -of the indignant crowd, half naked, wan, emaciated, and starved; and so -heartrending was the scene that with difficulty the representative of the -League (who had come there for that very purpose) prevented the mob from -stoning the bailiffs to death. - -Then came the turn of the third cottage. Two old men lived in it, Patrick -and Thomas Diggin. The family of the former included ten persons; that of -the latter, six. They owed a rent of £8, and had not a shilling between -them all. Patrick’s wife, however, came forward, and declared she had -just received £2 from her daughter, who was a servant in Belfast. Would -they accept that, and stop the execution? The under-sheriff, whom the -duties of his office oblige to back the bailiffs, urged them to accept -the touching offer. They refused, and set fire to the roof. Then Patrick -Diggin, an eighty-year-old man, was seen coming out of his home sobbing; -he was followed by all his children and grandchildren. By an irresistible -impulse of sympathy all crowd round him, offering what little they -possess to the relief of that misery. The constables themselves, moved -almost to tears, contribute their silver coin to the subscription which -has been spontaneously organized. To carry the barbarous work further -becomes an impossibility. The sheriff’s substitute gives the signal for -departure, and the cavalcade follows amidst the derisive cries of the -multitude. - -All those poor people, except one family, have since been re-installed on -their holdings, and are now at work on their farms—a strange evidence of -the uselessness and cruelty of eviction, to make tenants pay who cannot. - - * * * * * - - VALENTIA ISLAND. - -At Cahirciveen, I crossed the strait which divides the main land from the -island of Valentia. This is the extreme point of the old continent, where -the Transatlantic cables are placed. Good, honest, plucky fellows! what -repose after the misery of Kerry! I am speaking of the fishermen of the -island, a peculiar race who never ploughed any fields but those of the -ocean. Every night they risk their lives on the giant billows, and earn -their bread valiantly. They know nothing of sheep rot, potato disease, or -landlordism; all they know is the management of their boats, the making -and mending of their nets, and the art of making the deep yield food for -their young. Strangers to the neighbouring world, they ignore even its -language, and only talk the rude idiom of their ancestors, the Irish of -the time of the O’Donoghue. - -Noble fellows! I shall not soon forget the night I spent there watching -them as they were fishing between the Skellings, two enormous rocks that -rise like Gothic cathedrals, about twelve miles from Bray Head, and on -which the waves are eternally breaking with a thundering noise. My guide -had warned me against offering them money; it would offend them, he said, -so I did not do it. I simply drank with them a glass of whisky when they -prepared to go home towards daybreak, the stars still shining. And, -comparing their happy courage with the distress of Kerry, I wished them -from the bottom of my heart never to become acquainted with agriculture -on small holdings, under an English landlord. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -RURAL PHYSIOLOGY. - - -We have glanced at a few facts presenting symptoms of the Irish disease, -which were taken as chance guided us, in a ride through a south-western -county. Similar symptoms are everywhere to be found through the island. -To appreciate them at their right value, as even to comprehend them, it -is essentially requisite to know, at least in its broader outlines, the -physiology of landed property in this entirely agricultural country. - -Vast landed property and parcelled-out culture. This is the epitome of -such a physiology. At the base of the social edifice we find the tenant, -generally a Catholic and of indigenous race, occupying and cultivating -after his own fashion the thousandth or ten thousandth part of a property -ranging over an area of some hundred thousand acres. At the summit we -find the landlord, almost invariably of English and Protestant race, -ruling by right of primogeniture over this immense space. - -Does this right rest at its origin on confiscation and spoliation, as is -averred by the Irish? That is of little importance from a legal point of -view, for prescription has covered the spoliation by an occupation of two -to eight centuries. It is of far greater importance from a moral point of -view, because that grievance, ill or well founded, serves as a handle for -all agrarian recriminations. - -In three out of five cases (so it has been shown by recent statistics) -the landlord is an _absentee_, that is to say, he does not reside on -his property, nor even in the kingdom, and spends abroad the money he -raises on his lands. His income, from that source alone, is sometimes -enormous—£10,000 a year—(Lord Greville, Westmeath; Lord Carisford, -Wicklow; Mr. Wandesford, Kilkenny; Mr. King, Longford; Lord Inchiquin, -Clare); £16,000 a year—(Lord Claremont, Louth; Mr. Naper, Meath; Lord -Leconfield, Clare; Lord Ventry, Kerry); £26,000 and £32,000 a year—(Duke -of Abercorn, Tyrone; Marquis of Clanricarde, Galway; Lord Kenmare, -Kerry); £40,000, £80,000, and even £120,000 a year—(Mr. MacDonnell, -Kildare; Marquis of Coningham, Cavan, Clare, and Donegal; Marquis of -Londonderry, Down; Marquis of Downshire, &c.). Rent rolls of £4,000, -£3,000, and £2,000 a year too plentiful to be mentioned. - -Three-fifths at least of those sums are lost every year for Ireland, -and they go out of the island without having in any way helped to -increase her capital in agricultural machinery, live stock, and general -improvements of the land. As a natural consequence, the soil is -ill-cultivated, ill-manured, insufficiently covered with cattle. For -centuries its energies have suffered a constant draining, and nothing has -been done to repair its losses. - - * * * * * - -That soil has a tendency to subdivision in the hands of the tenants, who -cultivate it by truly pre-historic methods. The figures are given in -round numbers as follows:— - -Against 24,000 holdings of a value of above £500 a year there are in -Ireland 85,000 holdings producing from £25 to £500 a year; 49,000 from -£12 to £29 a year; 77,000 from £8 to £12 a year; 196,000 from £4 to £8 a -year; lastly, 218,000 holdings of a revenue of _under £4 a year_. - -That is to say, out of six or seven hundred thousand families, living -exclusively upon the product of the soil, more than two-thirds must get -their sustenance from a wretched bit of ground, estimated by the owner -himself at a value of £4 to £8 a year! - -To state such an economical paradox is to denounce it. Where there is -nothing, the landlord, like the king, loses his rights. The situation, -then, would already be strangely anomalous, even if the respective titles -of landlord and tenant were of the clearest and most transparent kind. -But it is complicated in Ireland by the most curious conceptions and -customs in matters of landed property. - -To understand those conceptions and customs, a Frenchman must begin by -putting aside all his Latin ideas. With us, since the Convention, one can -always know by the Survey-Rolls to whom belongs absolutely such or such a -piece of land. He who owns it is free to sell it, to give it, to let it -as he pleases. His right is absolute; it is the right of “use and abuse,” -according to the forcible expression of the Roman code. It passes with -this absolute character to sons, grandsons, or legatees. - -In Ireland it is feudal law that obtains still; an estate is not a -property, it is a fief. The lord of that estate is not the proprietor -of it, he is an usufructuary, as it were, a life-tenant on it. He has -only a limited right to his own land. He cannot sell it without the -written consent of his substitute in the entail, and the authorization -of the persons, often countless in numbers, that have some hereditary -right on his property at the same time with him; most of the estates -are encumbered with perpetual rents, served out either to the younger -branches of the family, to old servants, or to creditors. All the -titulary is free to alienate is his life interest, through some insurance -combination with transfer of income. - -If we add that the said titulary is generally absent from his property, -that he does not manage it personally, and that in many cases he does -not even exactly know where it is to be found, we must own that it is no -wonder he is considered as a stranger. - -A stranger he is besides, in race, by habits, by religion, by language. -And yet this stranger,—precisely because his fief, practically -inalienable, as it is immovable in its limits, has always been -transmitted from father to eldest son in the family,—this stranger, -of whom often nothing is known beyond his name, has a story, true or -legendary, attached to him and to his title. It matters little that the -revenue of the estate was scattered over five hundred heads, in the -course of ten generations; the estate remains, and weighs on him with -all its weight. We do not speak here of a mere geographical expression, -of an area a hundred times parcelled out, altered, disfigured, in less -than a century, but of land that for a thousand years, maybe, has changed -neither form nor aspect. - -At night, by the fireside, old people will recall how in former days this -land was the collective property of the clan; how they were defrauded by -a political chief that treacherously gave it up to the English, in order -to receive investiture from their hands; how, following the fortunes -of twenty successive rebellions and repressions, it was confiscated, -sequestered, given anew, till it came to the actual landlords. A special -literature, ballads, popular imagery, little books, and penny papers -constantly harp on that ancient spoliation. It is the only history -studied under thatched roofs. The peasant breathes it in the atmosphere, -imbibes it by all his pores. - - * * * * * - -Convinced that he has a hereditary right to the domain in general, the -Irish peasant besides attributes to himself a special and prescriptive -right to the plot of ground that he, like the landlord, occupies from -father to son, though on a precarious tenure. This right is not purely -imaginary; it was consecrated in the year 1860 by a special Act of -Parliament, due to the initiative of Mr. Gladstone. Recognised from -immemorial times in Ulster, it has always been claimed in all the other -parts of Ireland; it is the _tenant right_, what in our own Picardy is -called the _droit de marché_. - -It is well known in what consist this ancient prerogative of the Picardy -farmer (Troplong in the Preface to his _Traité du Louage_, and Lefort -in his _Histoire des contrats de location perpétuelle_, have treated it -exhaustively): it is simply the privilege of preserving in perpetuity -for him and for his heirs, the use of the ground for which he pays rent -regularly. - -Not only is this privilege not denied to him, but he can transfer it -to a third person, for a premium that goes by the name of _intrade_. -The amount of that premium is often a third or even a half of the -intrinsic value of the soil. Formerly this “_droit de marché_” applied -to everything that can be let or hired; the labourers, the threshers, -the shepherds of a domain, each claimed it in his own province as a -hereditary monopoly. In modern days it is strictly limited to the hiring -of servants, in the few districts where it survived the French revolution -(in Péronne for instance). - -The thing that is only a curious exception in France has remained the -rule in Ireland, where _tenant right_ has been in force for the last -twenty-seven years. And what, after all, can be better founded than such -a right? Has not the tenant, in the majority of cases, made his plot of -ground what it is? Has he not tilled it, improved it, manured it, drained -it according to his better knowledge; in a word, has he not _created_ it -in its actual form? - -“Let us,” says the peasant, “admit the rights of the landlord. How could -he deny me mine? Are they not legibly written in the furrow I have traced -upon this earth, in the fruits I have made her bear?... The land is not -a simple material, unreducible like a piece of gold. It is a chemical -product, a conglomerate that is valuable especially by reason of all the -substances I have mixed up with it during an occupation of ten, twenty, -thirty years, or even more.... Who shall dare to deny the share I have -brought into this company of which I am the acting manager, and deny that -this share belongs to me?” - -Such a theory would doubtless appear sheer lunacy to the French -proprietor who has paid for his land £400 per hectare, and who has let -it for a fixed period at a fixed price, with the understanding that at -the end of the contract he shall find it in good condition and shall then -do what he pleases with it. That theory, however, is so well suited to -Ireland, where custom has the force of law, that the landlord does not -even think, practically, of disputing the _tenant’s right_. - -As a rule he is only too glad to let his land to the farmers who have -traditionally occupied it, on condition that they pay the usual rent. - -But in practice, the Land Act of 1860, apparently so much in favour -of the tenant, has produced disastrous effects. In the first place, -by consecrating the right of the tenant only on improvements and -enlargements made _with the landlord’s consent_. Thence the consequence -that not only is the landlord never willing to spend a farthing on -the improvements of the land, but also that he systematically opposes -them, for fear he should have to pay for them in the end. Besides many -landlords have signed their new leases only after the farmer has given -them a formal renunciation to the tenant right; or else they have taken -advantage of the pretext that offered itself, and raised the rent by way -of compensation against all risks. Lastly, in many a place where this -right has become positive, the rural usurers alone have profited by it by -discounting it to the peasantry. - -The consequence is that the tenant right is often reduced practically -to the implicit acknowledgment of the right of the farmer to occupy the -land, so long as he pays his rent. It even happens not unfrequently that -there is no lease and the occupancy goes on indefinitely without title. -Doubtless this gives it only more value in the eyes of the peasant, -naturally inclined to associate this absence of scrivening with the -acknowledgment of his traditional rights. - -Having been able in certain cases to sell or hire his “interest,” he -feels the more inclined to think himself entitled to divide it between -his children. That division has become the rule, and what was once a farm -of thirty to fifty acres turns out, at the third generation, parcelled -in ten or twelve scraps of three to five acres. The landlord might have -interfered in the beginning; he might have prevented such a division; he -did not do it. Beside, that division of the land is recorded nowhere, has -been the occasion of no formal deed; one member of the family answers -for all the others, if necessary. How is one to unravel those private -arrangements? And, after all, what does it matter, so long as the rents -come in? - -They come in during ten, during twenty years. Then the harvest is bad, -or the sub-dividing of the soil has arrived at the last limit compatible -with the needs of those that cultivate it. The rent is no longer paid, -and then the difficulties begin. How is one to appraise the improvements -introduced in the land by the actual possessor, or by his forefathers? -How can one find out what is due to him, even with the best intentions? -Is the landlord to give him an indemnity before he evicts him? But then -it means ruin to the landlord, who will have to pay precisely because he -has not been paid himself. It is the squaring of the circle. When only -very small holdings are in question, the difficulty is generally met by -remaining in _statu quo_. But supposing the debt to be more important, or -to have been transferred to a third person, which is often the case, the -question becomes insoluble. - -Let us repeat that we must not consider these things from a French -point of view. With us the idea of individual property is always of the -clearest and simplest. The frequent sales and buying of land contribute -still to make this idea of more actual and definite meaning to us. -An hectare of grass or vine is, like any other goods, a merchandise -that passes from hand to hand, and remains with the highest bidder. In -Ireland the sales are rare, and in no case is it a question of absolute -ownership; it is only a question about the respective and contradictory -rights, some for life, some perpetual, some positive, others customary, -of several persons over the same space of land, a space not to be -transferred, not to be seized, and not to be fractionised. Is it any -wonder that such contradictory pretensions should give rise to constant -conflicts? - - * * * * * - -Everything concurs to shut in that rural world in a vicious circle. Not -only does the peasant lack capital to improve his farming, but, assured -of seeing his rent raised if he ventured on the least improvement, he is -careful to make none. On his side the landlord, for dread of annoying -contestations, opposes as much as lies in his power any amendment -susceptible of being turned into a title for his tenant. - -Is there a succession of relatively good harvests? He immediately raises -the rent. Are the following years bad? He refuses to return to the old -rate, in principle at least, because he finds it inconvenient to curtail -a revenue to which he has accustomed himself, because he does not like -to appear to bow before the League, and also because, being liable to -expropriation, he is unwilling to depreciate beforehand the value of his -property, which is always valued according to its rent. - -Lastly, the holdings, being too often mere plots of ground, are hardly -sufficient to keep the peasant and his family occupied, and do not always -give him a sufficiency of food. And just because it is so, the unlucky -wretch does not find work outside sufficient for the equilibrium of his -poor finances. The class of agricultural labourers can hardly be said -to exist in numerous districts, because everyone is a small farmer. -The tenant then becomes completely sunk in his inaction; he becomes -apathetic, and from a sluggard too often turns into a drunkard. His wife -is ignorant and careless. She can neither sew, nor is she able to give -a palatable taste to his monotonous fare. His children are pallid and -dirty. Everything is sad, everything is unlovely around him; and, like a -dagger festering in the wound, the thought that all his misery is due to -the English usurper ever makes his heart bleed. - -To all these causes of poverty and despair must be added the general -difficulties that weigh on agriculture in all countries of Europe, -the lowered prices of transport, the clearings of land in America -and Australia, the awful transatlantic competition, the disease of -potatoes.... The picture being finished, one thing only surprises—it is -to find one single Irish farmer left in the country. - -These explanations, with many others, were given me by a person that -it is time I should introduce to the reader; for he is the incarnation -of one of the essential wheels in the machinery of Irish landed -property—Captain Pembroke Stockton, _land agent_. - -The captain is a small fair man, of slim figure, of military aspect, -who received me this morning at an office where he employs half a dozen -clerks. The room was lined with green-backed ledgers, or, to speak -more exactly, with rows of tin boxes, of a chocolate colour. To-night -he receives me in a pleasant villa, where he takes me in his phaeton, -drawn by two magnificent horses. He may be about fifty-three years old. -His calm, regular-featured countenance owes its peculiar character to -the line that cuts his forehead transversely, and divides it into two -parts, one white, the other bronzed by the sun; a mark left by the -English forage-cap, which is like a small muffin, and is worn on one side -of the head. The captain has seen service in India; he fought against -Nana-Sahib, and even hung with his own hand a certain number of rebels, -as he not unfrequently relates after dinner. He sold out when about -thirty-five years of age, at a period when selling out still existed (in -1869), and got for his commission £3200, which, besides a small personal -competency, allowed him to marry a charming girl, dowerless, according to -the excellent English habit; children came: means became too straitened, -and, to enlarge them, he resolved to become a _land agent_. - -The land agent has no equivalent in France, except for house property. -He is neither a notary, nor a steward, and yet he partakes of both, -being the intermediary between landlord and tenant. It is he that draws -up the leases and settlements; he who receives the rents, who sends out -summons, who signs every six months the cheque impatiently expected by -the landlord; he who represents him at law, he who negotiates his loans, -mortgages, cessions of income, and all other banking operations. In a -word, he is the landlord’s prime minister, the person who takes on his -shoulders all the management of his affairs, and reduces his profession -to the agreeable function of spending money. The land agent naturally -resides as a rule in the vicinity of the estate. Therefore he knows -everybody by name; knows all about the incumbrances, the resources -of every tenant, the length and breadth of every field, the price of -produce, the probable value of the harvest; all the threads are in his -hands; the landlord counts upon him, approves everything he does, upholds -his rigours, and submits to his tolerance. Is he not himself at his -mercy? The agent keeps all his deeds of property; has personally written -out every one of them; knows, in fact, a great deal more than himself -about it. - -Let us premise that very considerable interests are in question, and -that the rents are ciphered by thousands of pounds sterling. It is easy -to understand that the agent must be not only a man of honour, a clever -man, a business man, but above all a man presenting the most serious -guarantees from a financial point of view. - - * * * * * - -That is sufficient to imply that they are not counted by dozens in -every district; and that a land agent provided with all the necessary -qualifications must before long govern all the principal estates in a -county. From his office, situated in the principal county-town, he rules -over ten, twenty, or thirty, square miles of land, cultivated by five or -six thousand farmers, under some twenty landlords. - -Thence the natural consequence that the same policy generally prevails -in all the administration of the landed property in one district. The -personal character of the landlord may, indeed, influence it in some -ways, but the character of the agent is of far greater importance. And -thence this other consequence, not less serious for the farmer, and which -gives the key to many an act of agrarian violence,—that in case of open -war, in case of eviction especially, it is not only an affair between -the landlord and the tenant, but also between the tenant and all the -landlords in his county, through their one representative. - -Has he been evicted? It will be well-nigh impossible for him to get -another farm in this county, where he was born, where his relations are -living, where he has all his habits, all his roots, as it were. And no -work to be had outside agricultural work.... Emigration only is open to -him,—which is equivalent to saying that eviction must necessarily be -followed by transportation. - -Let us imagine all the owners of houses in Paris, bound together in -association, to be in the hands of a single agent; let us suppose that -a dweller in one of those houses is turned out of it for quarrelling -with his _concierge_ or for any other reason, and unable to find a house -to live in; we shall then have an idea of the state of mind in which -eviction places the Irish peasant. Let us add that this peasant has -generally built with his own hand the hut that is taken from him; let us -add that for him it is not only a question of knowing whether he shall -have a roof over his head, but a question of being able to live by the -only trade he has learnt. - -For many other reasons, the question of agencies on a large scale still -contributes to make the problem more intricate. - -In all affairs personal intercourse brings an element the importance -of which must not be overlooked. A man will display the greatest -inflexibility in writing, who will hesitate to do so face to face with -his opponent. If the landlord knew his tenants, if he lived among them, -if he entered into their life and saw their misery, very often, may -be, he would recoil before barbarous rigours, while the agent, by his -very profession is obliged to act with the precision of a guillotine. -The influence of women, so gentle and conciliatory, is absent from the -system. Pity, sympathy, human contact, have no part in it. Can we wonder -if harmony be destroyed? - -Examples are not wanting to show that a different system, a policy of -gentleness, of direct and mutual concessions, and well directed efforts, -bear very different results. I shall quote as an instance the case of an -English lady, Miss Sherman Crawford, who bought, some twenty years ago, -at a legal sale, a small half-ruined estate in Ireland. She went to live -on it, and began by giving her ten or twelve tenants a written promise -that they would get the benefit of all their improvements without having -cause to fear that the rent should be raised. Then she made it a rule -that everyone should come directly to her in case of difficulties, and -not to an agent. - -She built a few sheds, repaired two or three cottages, on occasions lent -a five pound note to facilitate the buying of a cow or pig. That was -enough. In spite of the difference in race, religion, and language, she -and her peasantry are on perfect terms with each other; her property of -Timoleague thrives in the midst of general poverty and wretchedness; -not an inch of ground lies uncultivated; the soil is well manured, well -drained, well used; the people are happy and contented. To perform that -miracle, all that was wanted was a little willingness, a little good -management and gentleness. - -But then Miss Crawford’s property is neither too large nor too small. -She brings there the capital needed, and allows it to circulate in the -place. She sees everything with her own eyes, not with the eyes of an -agent. She is not the titulary of an entailed estate, and has not given -up its income to usurers. Her farms are large enough to allow her tenants -to find their sustenance on them, for themselves and their families. In -a word, her property is in everything the reverse of what is seen in all -other parts of the island. - -And in truth, if delirious legislators had proposed to themselves the -task of inventing a system of landed property that would give neither -security to the owner nor peace to the tenant, where could they have -succeeded better than with the Irish system? It is at once stupid and -ferocious, absurd and monstrous. How true, alas! that human genius, -so well able sometimes to profit by natural forces, excels also in -sterilizing them, in making them homicides! - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -EMIGRATION. - - -Before setting foot in this country your notions are not unfrequently -ready made about the characters of the inhabitants. You have gathered -them from miscellaneous reading, novel-reading mostly, and what you -expect is an Ireland poor certainly, but nevertheless gay, improvident, -chivalrous, addicted to sound drinking, good eating, fond of practical -jokes, not unmixed with riot and even blows; an Ireland, in short, such -as Charles Lever and Carleton, Banim and Maxwell, Sam Lover and Thackeray -have described; an Ireland where wit and humour are to be met at every -step, where the last beggar has his little joke, where originality of -thought, unexpectedness of action, fun inexhaustible, combine to form -that eccentricity of manner which is ever associated with the idea of an -Irishman. - -That such an Ireland was, not long ago, a reality, one cannot doubt. -A whole literature, a rich collection of tales, novels and legends -is there to witness to the fact. Its historical existence is as -scientifically demonstrated as that of our “Régence.” The worldly -exploits of the Duke of Richelieu are not better proved. But it is in -vain you look to-day for that gay and careless Ireland; from Cape Clear -to Malin Head, from Dublin to Galway, there is no vestige of it. She is -dead and gone. Like Mr. Credit, bad payers have killed her. Between her -and us there has been a great financial cataclysm where she has been -wrecked: the _crash_ of the great famine of 1846-1847. - -Never did she rise from it. Forty years ago she contrived to exist -somehow. The tenants were poor, to be sure, but the landlords were not, -and they spent their money grandly. They led the usual life of rich -country gentlemen, had large retinues of servants and horses, kept -playing, drinking, and betting till they had only debts left, which -course had at least the advantage of permitting their cash to circulate -about the country. The local traffic was relatively large then. Butchers, -coach-makers, wine-merchants, and horse-dealers made rapid fortunes. Few -towns in Europe showed so much animation as Dublin, now so empty and so -dull a place. Everybody was in debt with everybody; not one property -was not mortgaged. It was the fashion at that time to pay only at the -last extremity. A general complicity gave force of law to that habit. -Lawsuits, of course, were plentiful, but what is there in a lawsuit -to prevent a jolly squire from drinking hard, riding his horses at a -break-neck pace, or galloping from morning till night behind his hounds? - -Then came the potato-disease; then the famine, which brought in two -years a general liquidation. Everyone awoke to find himself ruined; -there were in six months fifty thousand evictions. The largest fortunes, -when they escaped the Encumbered Estates Court, established in 1849, -remained loaded with such heavy burdens that the income of the titulary -fell to nothing. One was obliged to pinch then, to sell the horses, and -shut up the kennel. There was an end to fun, and if there remained here -and there some inveterate boon companion who would not give up the good -old customs, the _Moonlighters_ soon brought him to reason, poisoning -his dogs and hunters, confiscating his arms, and at times mistaking the -landlord for the game. - -There is no vestige left now of the easy-going ways of old. The large -town-houses and country seats are deserted or let to strangers; the -cellar is empty, the dining-room silent. A gust of hatred and misery has -blown on the isle and left all hearts frozen. - -As for the peasant, the poor creature has too many cares for thinking -of a joke now. Perhaps in other climes, under a clearer sky and warmer -sun, he would revive, and find in his very distress the element for -some witticism. But here, the damp atmosphere, united with persevering -ill-fortune, has deluged and drowned for ever his Celtic good-humour. -Hardly does he find now and then a glimpse of it at the bottom of an -ale-jug or in the tumult of some election riot. If a quick repartee, one -of his characteristic sallies, escapes him now, it is always bitter, and -reminds you of the acrid genius of Swift. - -“How deliciously pure and fresh is the air in Dublin,” said Lady -Carteret, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland’s wife, to the author of -“Gulliver.” - -“For goodness’ sake, Madam, don’t breathe a word about it to the English. -They would put a duty on it.” - - * * * * * - -And his terrible satire about the famous “excess of population,” that -favourite hobby of economists, who has not it in mind? - -“It is a melancholy object to those who walk through this great town -or travel in the country, where they see the streets, the roads, and -cabin-doors crowded with beggars of the female sex, followed by three, -four, or six children, all in rags and importuning every passenger for an -alms ... I think it is agreed by all parties that this prodigious number -of children ... is in the present deplorable state of the kingdom a very -great additional grievance; and therefore, whosoever could find out a -fair, cheap, and easy method of making these children sound, easy members -of the commonwealth, would deserve so well of the public as to have his -statue set up for a preserver of the nation. I shall now, therefore, -humbly propose my own thoughts; which I hope will not be liable to the -least objection. - -“I have been assured by a very knowing American of my acquaintance in -London that a young healthy child, well nursed, is, at a year old, a -most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, -baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a -fricassée or a ragout. - -“I do therefore humbly offer it to public consideration that of the -hundred and twenty thousand children already computed, twenty thousand -may be reserved for breed, whereof one-fourth part to be males ... that -the remaining hundred thousand may, at a year old, be offered in sale to -the persons of quality and fortune through the kingdom; always advising -the mother to let them suck plentifully in the last month so as to render -them plump and fat for good tables. A child will make two dishes at an -entertainment for friends, and when the family dines alone, the fore or -hind quarter will make a reasonable dish, and, seasoned with a little -pepper or salt, will be very good boiled on the fourth day, especially in -winter. - -“I have reckoned, upon a medium, that a child just born will weigh twelve -pounds, and in a solar year, if tolerably nursed, will increase to -twenty-eight pounds. - -“I have already computed the charge of nursing a beggar’s child (in which -list I reckon all cottagers, labourers, and four-fifths of the farmers) -to be about two shillings per annum, rags included; and I believe no -gentleman would refuse to give two shillings for the carcase of a good -fat child, which, as I have said, will make four dishes of excellent -nutritive meat. Those who are more thrifty (as I must confess the times -require) may flay the carcase: the skin of which, artificially dressed, -will make admirable gloves for ladies and summer boots for fine gentlemen. - -“As to our city of Dublin, shambles may be appointed for this purpose in -the most convenient parts of it; and butchers we may be assured will not -be wanting; although I rather recommend buying the children alive, then -dressing them hot from the knife, as we do roasted pigs.... - -“I think the advantages, by the proposals I have made, are obvious and -many, as well as of the highest importance: for first, as I have already -observed, it would greatly lessen the number of papists, with whom we -are yearly overrun, being the principal breeders of the nation, as well -as our most dangerous enemies.... Whereas the maintenance of a hundred -thousand children, from two years old and upwards, cannot be computed -at less than ten shillings a piece per annum, the nation’s stock will -be thereby increased fifty thousand pounds per annum, beside the profit -of a new dish introduced to the tables of all gentlemen of fortune in -the kingdom, who have any refinement in taste. And all the money will -circulate among ourselves, the goods being entirely of our own growth and -manufacture.... Besides, this would be a great inducement to marriage, -which all wise nations have either encouraged by rewards or enforced by -laws and penalties.” - -The grim sarcasm goes on in the same sinister, pitiless way up to the -conclusion, which is worth the rest: - -“I profess in the sincerity of my heart that I have not the least -personal interest in endeavouring to promote this necessary work, -having no other motive than the public good of my country, by advancing -our trade, providing for infants, relieving the poor, and giving some -pleasure to the rich. I have no children by which I can propose to get -a single penny; the youngest being nine years old, and my wife past -child-bearing.” - -Modern Philanthropy is not quite so bold as the Dean of St. Patrick in -suggesting remedies for the relief of the sufferings of Ireland. Its -great panacea is emigration. The first thing which attracts the eye in -villages and boroughs is a large showy placard representing a ship in -full sail, with the following words in large capitals, “Emigration! ... -free passage to Canada, Australia, New Zealand! ... free passage and a -premium to emigrants for Queensland!...” - -Technical particulars follow; the agents’ addresses, the names of the -outward-bound ships, &c.... These placards are everywhere. At each -turning, on every wall they stare you in the face, and fascinate the -starving man. Numerous and powerful emigration companies paid by colonies -where hands are wanting, patronized by all that is influential in the -kingdom, work unremittingly in recruiting that army of despair for a -voluntary transportation. And thus a continuous stream of Irishmen is -ebbing out through all the pores of the country. - -Shall we give the official figures? There are none given unfortunately -for the years between 1847 and 1851, corresponding to the “famine -clearances” or famine evictions. All that is known is that at that time -the population of Ireland suddenly decreased by one million six hundred -and twenty-two thousand inhabitants, without it being possible to say how -many had died of starvation, how many had embarked pell-mell on hundreds -of ships, how many had perished at sea, how many had survived. Since 1851 -the accounts are clear. It is known that 148,982 emigrants left Ireland -in the eight last months of that year; 189,092 in 1852; 172,829 in 1853; -139,312 in 1854. During the following years the emigration slackens its -pace by degrees and falls to the rate of 75,000 heads a year. It rises -again in 1863-64, and attains the figure of over 105,000. Then it settles -again to its level: 60,000, where for a time it remains stationary. Since -1880 it has risen again to 95,000, and over 100,000. - -Within thirty years, the period included between the 1st of May, 1851, -and the 1st of May, 1881, Ireland has lost through emigration alone -_two million five hundred and thirty-six thousand six hundred and -twenty-seven_ of her children. The total for the last five years has not -yet been published, but it certainly reaches half a million. From the -year 1851, therefore, at least _three million_ Irish people of both sexes -have left the island, that is to say, nearly the half of a population -then reduced to six-and-a-half million souls. - - * * * * * - -Has, at least, the result of that frightful exodus been to eradicate -pauperism? One would like to believe it. Theorists had promised it. But -alas! stern statistics are there to answer their fallacies. - -Statistics inform us that the Ireland of 1887, with its present -population, inferior to that of London, is poorer than it was in 1841, -when it numbered eight million inhabitants. Twenty years ago the number -of individuals admitted to workhouses was 114,594 out of six million -inhabitants. To-day it is 316,165 out of a population diminished by a -third. In 1884 the poor who received relief at home were 442,289. They -are now 633,021. In other words, _one Irishman out of four_ lives on -public charity—when he lives at all. - -Upon such facts, would you guess what monstrous conclusion the votaries -of emigration at any price have come to? Simply this: that the -blood-letting is not sufficient; that Ireland must be drained of another -million inhabitants. Such is Lord Salisbury’s opinion. As if an area of -20,194,602 statute acres, so favoured geographically, was not calculated -to nourish twelve or fifteen million human beings rather than three! -(This was the opinion of Gustave de Beaumont, after Arthur Young.) As if -the emigration of every healthy and industrious adult was not a nett loss -for the country, just as is the guinea taken away by any _absentee_! - -Is not his exit a sign of strength and energy in the emigrant? He was -free to stay at home if he liked; to shut himself up in a workhouse and -live there at the public expense. Has he not given by his very departure -the best proof that he is not a useless member in the social body? What! -you incite all that is able and active to go away, keeping only the -weak, the old, the useless; to these you dole out what is necessary to -keep up a flickering breath of life, and when poverty increases, you are -surprised at it! - -I bear in mind the reasons alleged by politicians. Elizabeth and Cromwell -have invoked them before, when recurring to more drastic but equally vain -measures. But, here again, the calculation is wrong; the eternal justice -of things has not permitted it to succeed. - -For all those whom the feudal system starves out of their native island -take care, for the most part, not to go and fertilize with their work -the British colonies. Vainly does the emigration agent offer them a -free passage, grants of land, and even premiums in money. They prefer -buying with their last penny a ticket which opens a free land to them. -They go to the United States, where they thrive almost to a miracle, and -this is a decisive answer to the masters of their race, who are also -its calumniators. They multiply there so as to form already a fifth -part (twelve millions) of the total population of the great American -Republic. At the bar, in the press, in all liberal professions, they -are a majority, and by their brilliant qualities, which often secure -them the first rank, they exercise a real preponderance. But they never -forget that they are Irish. They keep the unimpaired remembrance of their -beloved country, dear to their heart in proportion as she is unhappy. -They remember their home burnt to the ground, the old grandfather thrown -on the road-side, the little ones crying at the withered breast of a -pallid mother, the wrench of parting, the heart-rending farewell; then -the contumely during the voyage—the hardships after the landing; and they -swear an oath that all shall be paid some day, and, in the meanwhile, -they contribute their dollars to the healing of an ever-bleeding wound. - -It is there that Fenianism was born. From their ranks come those -conspirators who terrorize England with their periodic outrages. In all -agrarian violence the hand of the emigrants is to be found. From 1848 -to 1864 they have sent thirteen million pounds to those of their family -that have remained in Ireland; and, from 1864 to 1887, perhaps double -that sum. But in those figures, given by Lord Dufferin, the secret funds -brought to the service of an ever-increasing agitation are not reckoned. -The _Invincibles_ were in their pay. The _Skirmishing Fund_ was entirely -sustained by them. The National League lives, in a manner, upon their -subsidies. When Mr. Parnell went to visit the United States, they were -powerful enough to induce the Senate of Washington to give him the -honours of the sitting—an exception which stands unique in history. - -The independence of Ireland is their dream, their ambition, their hope, -their luxury in life. The day when this is accomplished, England will -perhaps realize that the Irish emigration has been a political blunder, -as it is an economical mistake and a moral crime. - - * * * * * - - CORK. - -Wishing to see some of those who emigrate I have come to Cork. Cork is -the great harbour of the South of Ireland, the gate that opens on America -and Australia. From St. Patrick’s Bridge on the Lee a steamer took me to -where three emigrant ships were at anchor ready to fly to other climes. -I went on board two of them, one English, the other American. There -was nothing particular to notice, except an under-deck disposed as a -dormitory, as is the rule on board all maritime transports, so as to -lodge four or five hundred steerage passengers. These passengers bring -with them their bedding, which consists generally of a coarse blanket, -and the staple part of their eatables. A canteen affords them, at -reasonable prices, all drinks or extras that they may think fit to add to -their ordinary fare. - -The impression I gather in these under-decks is rather a favourable one. -There is as yet only the bare floor, but it is clean and well washed. -Through the hatches, wide open, a pure and bracing air circulates freely. - -No doubt there will be some alteration after a few days’ voyage. But -it is evident that the Queen’s administration keeps a sharp eye upon -the emigration companies, and sees that all sanitary prescriptions -are observed. One sees no longer now-a-days such scandalous spectacles -as occurred in the years of the famine, when thousands of Irish were -promiscuously heaped in the hold of _coffin-ships_, and died by hundreds -before reaching the goal. Emigration is now one of the normal, it may be -said one of the official, functions of social life in Ireland—a function -which has its organs, laws, customs, and even its record-office. The -companies keep their agents in all British possessions; they are informed -of all the wants of those colonies; they know what specialists are in -demand, what advantages are offered to the new-comer. They do their best -to make the offer fit with the demand, and they seem to succeed. - -An old boatswain on board one of the emigrant ships tells me that life -there is generally monotonous but quiet. The passengers do not mix or -associate as quickly as one could imagine. Each of them pitches his own -separate camp on the few square feet that chance gives him, and it is -only after eight or ten days’ voyage that they begin to club together. -The mothers tend their babies, the fathers smoke their pipes, the -children play, the young people flirt. It appears that a relatively -considerable number of marriages are prepared and even concluded in the -crossing. There is nothing surprising in that, if we remember that the -most numerous class of emigrants is composed of marriageable girls and -men between twenty and twenty-five years of age. - - * * * * * - -A few types of emigrants taken at the inns and public-houses on the -quays. _John Moriarty_, of Ballinakilla, County Cork, 45 to 50 years -old. A rural Micawber, dressed in a dilapidated black coat, a pair of -green trousers, completely worn out at the knees, and crushed hat. A -Catholic (he says _Cathioulic_). Squats with wife and children in a -single room, almost devoid of furniture. Was to have embarked five days -ago for Canada. The Board of Health did not allow it on account of one of -the children having got the measles (an illness which assumes in Great -Britain a most dangerous and infectious character). Makes no difficulty -to tell me his whole history. Had a farm of thirteen acres. Was thriving -more or less—rather less than more. But for the last seven years it has -been an impossibility for him to make both ends meet. - -Strange as it may appear, the man is a Conservative in feeling. - -“Nothing to do in the country, with those _mob laws_ and agitation!” says -he. - -“What mob laws?” - -“Well, the trash on fixity of tenure, fair rent and the rest.” - -“I thought they were favourable to the tenant.” - -“Favourable in one sense, yes, sir,” (_with a diplomatic air, as he -fastens on me two little chocolate-coloured eyes_) “but disastrous in the -end, because they allow one to sell his tenant-right at a discount. You -believe that it will set you up, and it is the very stone that makes you -sink. The banks are our ruin, don’t you see? Once they have taken hold -of their man they don’t let him out before they have skinned him” (_a -silence, then a sigh of mild envy_). “It is, indeed, a good trade that of -banking!” - -He remains dreamy and seems to meditate the scheme of founding a bank in -Canada. - -_Martin Mac Crea_, 22 years old, a shepherd of Drumcunning. A Catholic. A -tall, pale, thin fellow, decently dressed, with a wide-awake look. Goes -to Queensland. Why? “Because there is no opening in Ireland. The most you -can do is to earn your bare sustenance.” It appears that in Queensland it -is quite a different affair. The profession of shepherd pays there. Let -a man bring or save the money necessary to buy half-a-dozen sheep, and -let them graze at their will. Seven or eight years later their name is -legion, and the man is rich. - -“But are you then quite free of ties here? Don’t you leave anybody, any -relation, in Ireland?” - -“I was obliged to live far from them, and where I go I shall be more able -to help them. Besides, the post reaches there.” - -“And the young ladies at Drumcunning. Do they allow you to go away -without a protest?” - -A broad smile lights up Martin Mac Crea’s countenance. A further -conversation informs me that his betrothed has gone before him to -Brisbane, where she is a servant. He is going to meet her, and they shall -settle together in the _bush_, keeping sheep on their own account. - -Let us hope she has waited for him. Queensland is far away! - -_Pat Coleman_, twenty years old. A friend to the former. Son of a small -farmer with six children. Nothing to do at home. Prefers going to the -Antipodes, to see if there is a way there to avoid dying of starvation, -as happened to his grandfather. - -_Peter Doyle_, forty-three years old. A journeyman. A Presbyterian. -Can’t find work at home; therefore emigrates. Was employed on railway -construction, county Clare. Has been turned away, the line being -completed and open to travellers. Had come to Cork in the hope of getting -work, but found only insignificant jobs. Packed to Melbourne. - -_Dennis O’Rourke_, twenty-nine years old; of Enniscorthy, Wexford. An -engine-maker; belongs to a class of which I had as yet met no specimen -in Ireland, the workman-politician. Has already emigrated to the United -States, where he spent three years. Wished to see his country again, and -tried to set up a business on a small scale, first in Dublin, then at -Cork; but it does not pay. Goes back to New York. - -“Do you know why? I am going to tell you. (_Fiercely_) I am going because -this country is rotten to the core! Because it has no spirit left, not -even that of rebellion! I am going because I will no longer bear on my -back the weight of dukes and peers, of Queen, Prince of Wales, Royal -family, and the whole lot of them! I am going where you can work and be -free; where a man is worth another when he has got in his pocket two -dollars honestly earned. That is where I go, and why I go.” - -“In short, you make England responsible for your misfortunes?” - -“England be damned!” - -It is O’Connell’s word. He was travelling in France, towards St. Omer, -and found himself inside the mail-coach with an old officer of the first -Empire who began forthwith to talk against the English. The great Irish -agitator kept silent. - -“Don’t you hear me?” the other said at last, insolently. - -“I beg your pardon, I hear you perfectly well.” - -“And you don’t mind my treating your country as I do?” - -“England is not my country; I hate it more than you will ever do.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE LEAGUE. - - - ENNIS. - -The county Clare, and more especially Ennis, its chief town, have played -an important part in the contemporary history of Ireland. It was here -eight years ago (in 1879) that Mr. Parnell, at a great autumn meeting, -gave his famous _mot d’ordre_ on social and political interdict. - -“If you refuse to pay unjust rents, if you refuse to take farms from -which others have been evicted, the land question must be settled, -and settled in a way that will be satisfactory to you. Now, what are -you to do to a tenant who bids fora farm from which another has been -evicted? You must shun him on the road-side where you meet him,—you must -shun him in the shops,—you must shun him in the fair green, and in the -market-place, and in the place of worship: by leaving him severely alone, -by putting him in a moral Coventry; by isolating him from the rest of -his countrymen, as if he were the leper of old, you must show him your -detestation of the crime he has committed.” - -Those words contained a whole programme, faithfully carried out since, -and which has already borne fruit. They took exceptional force from the -fact that Mr. Parnell, at the time he pronounced them, was already the -acknowledged leader of Irish opposition. They were in some sort the -registration of birth of the League. - - * * * * * - -The League! Every moment, travelling through this island, one comes in -contact with this power, mysterious though positive, anonymous and yet -implicitly recognized. The League houses and feeds evicted families; -it settles that such a landlord or such a farmer shall be boycotted; -it decrees that the rents of such an estate shall be reduced 30 per -cent.; that of such another the rents shall be lodged in the League’s -own coffers; it patronises candidatures, chooses the place and time of -meetings, presides over all the phases of social life. What is that -League? is the question one asks. - -At first one naturally supposes it to be an electoral association such -as exists in every free country. But little by little one perceives that -it is a far bigger affair. Electoral associations are not in the habit -of inspiring such persistent enthusiasm, of covering during eight long -years the extent of a whole country; they do not send roots to the most -remote villages, nor do they count among their members three-quarters -of the adult population. It is not their custom either to fulminate -excommunications, or if they do they have but little appreciable effect -on the ordinary tenour of life. One never heard that they disposed of -important capital, and one would be less surprised to hear that they -had entered into a lawsuit with their printer about an unpaid bill for -five or six thousand placards, than one would be to hear that they have -several hundred thousand pounds in the bank. - -And yet it is precisely of hundred thousand pounds that one constantly -hears in connection with the League. Where does it get all that money, -in a country worn so threadbare as this? Whence is it that it is so -universally respected, so religiously obeyed? All the smiles are for the -League, while the functionaries of the Crown pocket only snubbings. All -the doors open before the League, while they close and even barricade -themselves at the bare mention of the Lord Lieutenant’s name. - -One observes these facts; compare and weigh them. Then the conclusion -imposes itself quite naturally that the League is the only public power -recognised by the bulk of the Irish nation. One already had a suspicion -of being a spectator to a revolution, of which the violent deeds, instead -of being concentrated over a period of two or three years, as we have -seen at home, have spread over half a century. One understands that one -has fallen in the midst of a civil war, not in the incipient state, -but fully let loose, and that there exists in this island two rival -authorities,—that of the Crown with the bayonets on its side; that of the -League, possessing all hearts. - -Ireland, it is hardly necessary to repeat, has been in a state of -rebellion since the beginning of the British Conquest. But it has -been in a state of revolution only for a period of about forty years. -Insurrection betrayed itself now by individual but constant acts of -rebellion, of which one can easily follow the succession through past -ages, now by collective risings like those of Thomas Fitzgerald in -1534, of O’Neil in 1563, of Desmond in 1579, of Preston in 1642, of the -Whiteboys in 1791, of the Oakboys in 1762, of the Steelboys in 1768, of -Wolfe Tone in the course of the French Revolution, of Emmet in 1803, -the New Whiteboys in 1807, of John Mitchell in 1848, of the Fenians in -1865 and 1867. As for the agrarian revolution, born of an economical -situation impossible to bear, it follows its course as regularly as a -great river, ever getting larger and larger, widening its bed, swelling -its volume with all the streams it meets, increasing in power at the -same time that its waters get more depth and breadth. Even the soothing -mixtures prescribed for it by the Parliamentary doctors have served as -its tributaries. Its torrent has at length become irresistible. - -To discover its source, we must go back to the famine evictions of 1847. -The heart-rending spectacle then presented by Ireland made it natural -to look for a palliation to such misery. The malady was studied in all -its aspects; much learned discussion took place at the bedside of the -agonizing patient. It was the time when Disraeli developed his famous -theory of “the three profits.” The land, if one was to believe him, must -yield profit to three persons:—the Queen, the landlord, and the tenant. -It appears this was arranged from the end of Time by the Great Architect -of the Universe. The laws of Kepler are not more absolute. The unlucky -thing is that the earth does not always fulfil its obligations, and too -often refuses to yield up the three sacramental profits. - -Theorists endowed with less boldness thought to find a remedy by giving -legal consecration to the tenant’s rights by the system of _the three -F’s_, as it was called, that is to say, _Fair Rent, Fixity of Tenure, -and Free Sale_. Through endless resistance, after endless debating in the -course of twenty parliamentary sessions, a whole _remedial_ legislation -came to add its bulk to the already so intricate structure of Anglo-Saxon -law. - -Now the custom of Ulster was extended to the whole of Ireland, and the -right of the farmer over the improvements paid with his money became -law (1860); now he was promised an indemnity in case of eviction, and -the basis was laid of a system of amortization which must infallibly in -the course of time have ended in creating a class of peasant landowners -(1870). - -Already in the year 1849, the State had interfered between the landlords -in difficulties and their tenants, by the creation of a special tribunal -for obligatory liquidation,—_the Encumbered Estates Court_. It finally -came to interfere between landlord and tenant by instituting a new court -of arbitration, the _Land Court_, entrusted with the care of fixing the -“fair” rent in each case. - -That Court was no sooner opened than 75,807 affairs were inscribed upon -its roll. It judged in one year 15,676. But there remained still 60,101 -to be judged, and already the reductions of 18 to 27 per cent. imposed -on the landlords appeared insufficient; already the farmers were loudly -clamouring for further reductions. - -For in truth such remedies were too anodine for such rooted disease! But -the wedge had nevertheless entered the tree. The State had appeared in -the character of umpire between the landlord and the peasant. Henceforth -all was or seemed possible. - -The essence of dogmas is to suffer no questioning. One cannot with -impunity discuss for twenty years the basis of landed property’s law and -the theory of “the three profits” before empty stomachs. As a parallel -to these debates, the question of political rights for Ireland rose -again, and ended insensibly by the conquest of the electoral franchise, -of religious equality, and of national education. The moment arrived -when the bulk of the population took an interest only in the truly vital -question,—that of the soil. And all of a sudden they understood that -there was only one remedy for the ills that weighed so grievously over -them: Landlords and tenants cannot continue to live side by side. Either -the one or the other must go. - -“Let the landlords decamp! They do not belong here,” said the peasants. - -“No, by G⸺! The peasants shall go,” answered the landlords; “the way is -open....” - -It was thus that towards 1876 the Irish movement became agrarian, from -being purely national. The League is the organ of that new function. - -Its primary idea belongs to two veterans of the Fenian plots, Michael -Davitt and John Devoy. But what distinguishes it from those plots, -besides a broader basis and larger aims, is that it acts in broad -daylight, with face uncovered, appealing to all men of goodwill, using -exclusively those constitutional weapons—the right of meeting, the right -of association and coalition. - -“The Fenians saw only the green flag,” wrote John Devoy. “The men of -to-day perceive that under its folds is the Irish land.” Nevertheless, it -was to the remains of the Fenian associations that he and Michael Davitt -had recourse at first to lay the foundations of the new association. -They went to look for them even to the uttermost end of America, secured -the co-operation of some of the most influential members of the Irish -emigration, then came back to Europe, and summoned a great preliminary -meeting at Irishtown. - -As ordinarily enough happens in such cases, their project was at first -looked upon coldly by members of Parliament, who thought it impolitic, -and violently opposed by the secret societies—Fenians or Ribbonmen—who -thought it calculated to cool the Nationalist zeal. But under the too -real sufferings produced by two years of famine (1876-1877), the agrarian -tempest assumed such formidable proportions, that all resistance had to -cease, and the politicians were compelled to lower their flag. For the -chiefs of the autonomist party it was a question of no less than keeping -or losing their mandate. Either they would adopt the new evangel, or -they would be left lying, officers without troops, on the electoral -battle-field. Most of them understood this in time. - -Mr. Parnell, the most conspicuous of all, had till then limited his part -to the demand for a national government for Ireland, and his tactics to -parliamentary obstruction. From an economical point of view he still -remained, with all his party, on the level of worthy Mr. Butt’s _three -F’s_. He was one of the first to understand that it was all over with -Home Rule, and with his own political fortune, if he hesitated any longer -to plunge into deeper waters. - -He made his plunge with characteristic resolution. “There is no longer -any possibility of conciliation between landlord and tenant,” he said. -“Since the one or the other must go out, it is better that the less -numerous class should be the one to do it.” On the 8th of June, 1879, -at Westport, he pronounced his famous, “Keep a firm grip on your -homesteads!” From the 21st of October following the agrarian League -promulgated circulars, which he signed as president. - -The League’s aim and watchword were—_The land for the peasant!_ Its means -were the union of all the rural forces, the formation of a resistance -fund for evicted farmers, the strike of tenants with a view to compelling -the landlords to grant a reduction of rent; and incessant agitation in -favour of a law for the liquidation of landed property, which would give -the land into the hands of the cultivators by means of partial payments -made during a certain number of years. - -The success of such a programme, seconded by the political leaders of -Ireland, was certain. But its promoters never had dared to hope for a -rush such as was experienced in a few weeks’ time. Adhesions poured in -by thousands; all the social classes embraced it. The Catholic clergy -themselves, after wavering one moment, found it advisable to follow in -the footsteps of the revolutionary party, as the Deputies had done before -them. Everywhere local boards were formed which put themselves at the -disposal of the central committee. Almost everywhere the Catholic priest, -his curates, not unfrequently the Anglican priest himself, were found -among the members of the board. - -This is enough to show with what alacrity and unanimity the mobilisation -of the agrarian army was effected. Far from weakening the Nationalist -party, as was feared by its prebendaries, it came out of this tempered -afresh, enlarged, associated with the every-day interests, tied -indissolubly henceforth, for the majority of an agricultural population, -to the most secret if the most ardent wish of their labourers’ heart. - -What remained to do was to endow the League with the resources wanted to -carry out its programme; but it was not in a country practically ruined, -a prey to the tortures of hunger, literally reduced to beggary, that -those resources were to be found. Mr. Parnell set out for the land of -dollars. He preached the new word there with complete success. Exotic -branches of the League were established in the various States of America, -in Canada, and Australia; the only thing remaining to do was to organize -the _in partibus infidelium_ government that was to take in hand the -direction of Ireland. - -But a short time since this government sat in a palace of the finest -street in Dublin—Sackville Street. There it had its offices, reception -rooms, council-room furnished with the orthodox green baize table, its -ministerial departments, secretaries and writers, officially headed -paper, its stamp, documents, accounts and red tape. - -After a recent movement on the offensive on the part of the enemy, the -League had to decamp and put all this material in a place of safety. -But though it be presently without a known place of abode, the League -none the less pursues its work. Do not telegraphic wires keep it in -communication with its agents throughout the length and breadth of the -territory? Why were Transatlantic cables invented, if not for the purpose -of opening permanent communications between the League and its American, -Australian, and Asiatic colonies? In all the extent of its jurisdiction, -which is that of the globe, the League is obeyed and respected; it -possesses the confidence of its innumerable tributaries. - -Perhaps that comes from the fact that this committee, though it sometimes -accented too much the professional character of its members, has at least -the rare merit of faithfully serving its constituents and of being in -perfect harmony of conscience with them. Perhaps this is due to the -effect of direct subsidies; and we must see there something better than a -mere coincidence,—a great lesson for the democracies of the future. One -thing is certain: this government, after wielding power for eight years, -have their party well in hand. They are able to do without red tape or -scribbling. One word is enough to indicate their will, and if they lack -secretaries, a hundred newspapers will carry this word to its address. - - * * * * * - -It would be a matter of some difficulty to appreciate rightly the -financial resources of the League Competent judges estimate them at -an income of two million francs. It receives on an average, from -English-speaking countries, a thousand pounds a week. Now and then -subscriptions slacken, and the incoming of money is smaller; but the -least incident, such as a noisy arrest or a political law-suit, is -sufficient to awaken the zeal of the leaguers. That zeal is always -proportionate to the energy of resistance opposed by the Cabinet of St. -James to the government of Sackville Street. If London so much as raises -its head, at once Dublin, and behind Dublin the whole of Ireland, the -whole of Irish America, Australia, the Cape, and the extreme depths of -India, all are shaken to their very centre,—in other words, they pay. - -The chief treasurer of the League, Mr. Egan, giving account of his -administration in October, 1882, after a space of three years, stated -that during these three years £244,820 had passed through his hands. In -this total one-third only came from insular contributors; all the rest -came from abroad. £50,000 had been given in relief of distress; over -£15,000 had been spent in State trials; nearly £148,000 had been expended -through the general Land League and the Ladies’ Land League in support -of evicted tenants, providing wooden houses, law costs, sheriffs’ sales, -defence against ejectments and various local law proceedings, and upon -the general expenses of the organization. A little over £31,900 remained -to the account of the association. - -There are no reasons for supposing the normal receipts of the League to -have diminished much since that period. More recently (in 1886) the “plan -of campaign” has created new openings for it. - -This “plan of campaign,” one of the boldest conceptions ever accepted by -a great political party, consists simply in lodging into the coffers of -the League, and for its use, the rents that were pronounced excessive by -its committee, and that the landlords refused to abate. Let us mention -in passing that the Catholic Archbishop of Dublin publicly accepted the -responsibility of this tremendous war-measure. It has, we must add, -been exercised with obvious moderation, in specific cases only, and by -way of example. The true weapon of the League, that which it used most -liberally up to the present day, is the _boycotting_, or social interdict -pitilessly pronounced against any one who disobeys its behests. - -From a legal point of view, the League has met with various fortunes. -Suppressed in 1881 by an Act of Parliament, it was compelled to put on -a mask and to disguise itself under the name of the _Ladies’ League_. -A year later it underwent a new incarnation and became the _National -League_. - -Now the Tory Ministry has suppressed it once more _proclaimed_ it, as -they say (_clameur de haro_), in virtue of the special power conferred -on it. It appears improbable that the health of the association should -suffer much for this; on the contrary, it will probably be all the -better for it. In former days it would have been content to undergo a -fourth avatar by taking the name of _Celtic League_, _Irish Babies’ -League_, or any other name that would have done just as well to deride -its adversaries. A special provision of the Coercion Act will prevent its -having recourse to this expedient. By the 7th article of the Act, the -Lord Lieutenant is empowered to suppress any _new_ association formed -with a view to continuing the affairs of the old ones. - -But one never thinks of everything. Precisely because it is so explicit, -the 7th article cannot apply to the _old_ Irish societies, different -from the National League, and which can easily be substituted in its -place. Those associations, _Home Rule Unions_, _Liberal Federations_, -&c., are numerous through the country. One of them could easily accept -the inheritance of the League, and it would be necessary to convoke -Parliament to suppress it. If Parliament suppresses it, it will be easy -to find something else. And so on for ever, through ages, to the crack -of doom.... In the meanwhile there will be protestations, agitations, -interpellations, and before the end, “the King, the ass” ... or the -Ministry shall have died, as La Fontaine said. - - * * * * * - -Lord Salisbury may close two hundred offices of the League in the -counties of Clare and Kerry. How shall he close the offices beyond the -sea, which are the real ones? - -In fact, the League is indestructible, because it is impossible to get -hold of it. One can arrest its chiefs, as has been done often enough, -intercept its correspondence, oppose cavalry regiments to its public -demonstrations, and retroactive measures to its secret acts; they -cannot destroy the faith the Irish people have put in it; they cannot -grapple with the essence of an association which rests on the most vital -interests of the peasantry. - -Political persecution is fatally doomed to failure when exercised in a -free country, if it does not begin by attacking the press and the right -of meeting. And who shall dare to touch those two pillars of the British -edifice? The English government is the government of opinion, or it is -nothing: now, the opinion of the majority of Irishmen, of the majority of -Scotchmen, and of an imposing minority of Englishmen, is in favour of the -League. - -To say the truth, all parties are agreed _in petto_ upon the necessity -of abolishing landlordism. It is only a question of settling who shall -have the credit of doing it, and how it shall be managed so that neither -the landlord’s creditors nor the public exchequer should suffer too -much by that unavoidable liquidation. Therefore all the measures taken -against an organism that incarnates such general feeling can only be an -empty fooling, a holiday sport. Their only effect must be to awaken -rural passions and provoke new acts of violence. One might even believe -such was their only aim. For, to be able to ruin a perfectly lawful -association like the League, in a country of free discussion, it is -indispensable first to throw dishonour upon it. - -They have not yet succeeded in doing this, in spite of the most strenuous -efforts. Not only has it always been impossible to charge the League with -any act contrary to the current standard of morals, but it is beyond any -doubt that its influence is especially directed towards the prevention of -agrarian crimes, and even against individual resistance to landlordism. -Wherever there is popular emotion or possible disorder, its delegates are -present, and endeavour to enforce respect for the law. If it happen that -the orations of some underlings overstep the mark, the general methods of -the League none the less remain unimpeachable. It has taken for mandate -the ruling of revolutionary action, the legalizing it, the task of giving -it a scientific character. It is to its honour that it has succeeded up -to the present day. One may reasonably suppose that it will not change -its tactics at the hour when its true chief is no longer Mr. Parnell, but -practically Mr. Gladstone. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE CLERGY. - - -From Kilrush, on the coast of Clare, an excellent service of steamers -goes up the estuary of the Shannon to Foynes, where one takes the train -to Limerick. It is a charming excursion, undertaken by all tourists. -The Shannon here is of great breadth and majesty, flowing in an immense -sheet of water, recalling the aspect of the great rivers of America. At -the back you have the stormy ocean; in front, on the right, on the left, -green hills dotted with snowy villas. Few trees or none, as is the rule -in Ireland, but a light haze that softens all the outlines of the ground, -magnifies the least shrubs, and lends to all the view a melting aspect of -striking loveliness. - -The boats are few in number, though the depth of the channel would allow -ships of the heaviest tonnage to go up to within five miles of Limerick. -I notice hardly two or three sailing boats at anchor on this four hours’ -journey. What an admirable harbour for an active commerce would be that -broad estuary, opening directly opposite to America, on the extreme -point of the European continent. It is the natural point of arrival and -departure for the Transatlantic steamers, which would reach New York in -five days from there. Engineers have dreamed of this possibility. But -to justify a maritime movement, and legitimise such enterprise, a great -commerce, an industry that Ireland lacks, would be wanted. Gentlemen of -an engineering turn, come back again in a century or two. - - * * * * * - -At Tarbert, where we stop to take passengers, a fort opens its -loop-holes, armed with guns, on the river. Redcoats are encamping at the -foot of the fortress, and the morning breeze carries to us the rough -voice of a non-commissioned officer drilling his men. One might imagine -him addressing the _Invincibles_ across the ocean somewhat after this -guise: - -“Here we are, keeping watch: If ever this alluring bay tempt you to come -over, you shall find us ready to receive you!”... - -The helm trembles; the boat goes on its course, and soon Tarbert melts -behind us in the sunny haze. - -On board, the travellers resemble those seen in summer on all great -rivers—merchants bent on a pleasure trip; judges and barristers, having -taken leave of briefs; professors enjoying their holidays, with wives, -daughters, sons, goods, and chattels—all have the sun-burnt complexion -and the satisfied look one brings back from the seaside. They have been -staying on the beautiful shores of the County Clare, and are returning -home with a provision of health for one year. La Fontaine has already -noticed that, travelling, one is sure to see “the monk poring over his -breviary.” Here the proportion is far greater than in the ancient coach; -it is not one priest we have on board, but a dozen, all sleek, fat, and -prosperous, dressed in good stout broadcloth, as smooth as their rubicund -faces, and provided with gold chains resting on comfortable abdomens. - -One remark, by the way. When you meet an Irish peasant on the road, he -stops, wishes you good-day, and adds, “Please, sir, what is the time?” -Not that he cares much to know. He is perfectly well able to read the -time on the great clock of the heavens. But it is his own manner of -saying, “I can see, sir, that you are a man of substance—one of the great -ones of this earth—_since you have a watch_. My sincere congratulations!” - -Well, all those travelling priests possess chronometers—we are obliged -to notice it, since it appears to be a sign of easy circumstances in -Ireland—and the rest of their attire fully carries out that symptom. -Under the undefinable cut that at once betrays a clerical garment, -their black coat has all the softness of first quality cloth; their -travelling bag is of good bright leather; their very umbrella has a look -of smartness, and does not affect the lamentable droop that with us is -always associated with the idea of a clerical umbrella. Some of them wear -the Roman hat and collar, with a square-cut waistcoat and the ordinary -trousers of the laity, and stockings of all the hues of the rainbow. A -young curate sports violet-coloured ones, which he exhibits with some -complacency. I ventured to ask him, in the course of conversation, -whether he belonged to the Pope’s household. He answered with a blush of -modesty that he had not that honour, and wore violet hose because he was -fond of that colour. - -That is a matter of taste; but I have a right to suppose, young -Levite, that the mitre and episcopal rochet—perhaps even the cardinal -purple—hover at night over your ingenuous dreams. - - * * * * * - - LIMERICK. - -Limerick is a big town of 40,000 inhabitants, celebrated for its hams, -lace, and gloves. The objects of interest are an important linen factory, -and another for military equipments, besides a stone mounted on a -pedestal, and which served as a table for signing the famous treaty of -1691—soon violated like all treaties, however. Opposite that historic -stone, on the other side of the Shannon, the ancient castle of King John -rears its proud head; it has a grim and gloomy look, with its seven -towers, its thick walls and iron-bound gates. - -At the large hotel of the place I meet again three of my ecclesiastical -fellow-travellers. They evidently know what is good for them, and would -on no account stop at second-rate inns. One cannot blame them for it. But -this is a sign of prosperity, added to all the others; a hotel at fifteen -shillings a day, without counting the wine, seems at first sight suited -to prelates rather than to humble clergymen. Yet these are only village -and parish priests, as I gather from the book on which I sign my name -after theirs. At dinner, where we sit side by side, I am compelled to -see that the appetite of the reverend fathers is excellent, and that the -_carte_ of the wines is a familiar object with them. They each have their -favourite claret: one likes Léoville, another Château Margaux, while the -third prefers Chambertin; and they drain the cup to the last drop. After -dessert they remain last in the dining-room, in company with a bottle of -port. - -At ten o’clock that night, entering it to get a cup of tea, I find the -three seated round glasses of smoking toddy. - - * * * * * - -These memorable events are not consigned here, it need hardly be said, -for the vain satisfaction of recording that on a certain evening three -Irish priests were tippling freely. They certainly had a perfect right -to do so, if such was their bent. It is the most cherished privilege of -a British subject; and of all capital sins proscribed by the Church, -drunkenness is certainly the most innocent. But this remark, made -without prejudice, during a chance meeting at an inn, carries out the -general impression left by the Irish clergy—that of a corporation -greatly enamoured of its comforts, endowed with good incomes, and whose -sleekness forms a striking contrast with the general emaciation of their -parishioners. - -Everywhere, in visiting this island, one meets with this typical pair -of abbots, well dressed and well “groomed,” travelling comfortably -together, and, to use a popular expression, “la coulant douce.” It is -startling in this realm of poverty, the more startling because the -Catholic clergy have no official means of existence, no salary paid -them by the State. They owe all the money they spend to the private -contributions of their admirers. Was there ever, they doubtlessly think, -a more legitimate way of making money? That is probably why they make -so little mystery of it, and disdain to hide when they exchange part of -their income against a bottle of Chambertin. In other places, priests -think that a certain reserve is expected of them; they prefer being -securely shut in privacy before they carve a partridge or plentifully -moisten a synod dinner. Here they are so secure in their position that -they recoil from no profane glance. - -Their lives are, I am told, of exemplary purity. I have no difficulty in -believing it, both because purity is a marked characteristic of the race, -and because their faith has seemed to me simple as that of the Breton -priests. There must be exceptions, and some were pointed out to me; but -assuredly those exceptions are few in number. By many signs which do not -deceive those who have some experience of life, one can see that the -Irish priest has not the vices of the Italian or Spanish priest. He is -a gormandizer to be sure, but he is chaste—perhaps for the very reason -that he is so devoted to the pleasures of the table. His simplicity of -heart is wonderful sometimes, and makes one think of those Mount Athos -monks, nursed in the cloister from the tenderest age, and who know -literally nothing of the exterior world. I heard two of them, old men -both, who were quietly chatting in a corner of the railway carriage. Both -had small, bald birds’ heads, shaven chins, and a quaint, old-fashioned -look. - -“_I am next door to an idiot!_” one of them was saying, with curious -complacency. - -“So am I,” answered the other; “so was I always, and I thank Almighty God -for it!... for have you not noticed that all those grand, clever people -often lose the faith?...” - - * * * * * - -Where does their income come from? That is a question doubly interesting -to us Frenchmen, who every year pay out two million sterling for the -budget of public worship. A placard seen everywhere in Limerick, and -presenting a marked resemblance to the advertisement for a theatre, will -help to tell us. This placard is to the effect that on the day after -to-morrow a general ordination of young priests will take place in the -Cathedral of St. John, by the hands of the Right Reverend X. O’Dyer, -archbishop of the town (the name and quality in conspicuous characters), -assisted by several other prelates and dignitaries. It proceeds to state -that excursion trains have been established for the occasion, and that -tickets for the ceremony may be procured, at the price of half-a-crown -and one shilling, at No. 98, George Street. - -This is a booking-office, exactly like those we have in theatres. Plenty -of placards, the plan of the church showing the number and position of -each seat, a table of prices, and behind a little grated window a bearded -old woman for the tickets,—nothing is wanting. One has only to choose -one’s place, to pay the price down, and to take away the ticket. About -twenty persons perform these various acts before my eyes. Evidently the -receipt will be good. The cathedral of St. John, that proudly raises -its brand-new spire above all the others, must be able to accommodate -at least three or four thousand spectators. At 1_s._ 9_d._ per head on -an average, that gives already a total of two or three hundred pounds. -To this must be added the product of the collections and that of the -wooden money-boxes, that open everywhere to receive the outcome of -the generosity of the faithful; the total, we may be sure, cannot be -otherwise than respectable. It is true that an ordination is not an -every-day event, and that it must be an expensive affair to put on the -stage. We must therefore suppose the ordinary income to be raised by way -of semestrial and direct contribution. - - * * * * * - -This is how the thing is done: each parish priest has two Sundays in -the year devoted to the taking his _dues_, as he calls it. On these -days, instead of preaching, he exhibits a manuscript list upon which -are inscribed by name all his tributaries, that is to say, all his -parishioners, with the sums they have paid into his hands; this he reads -publicly. As a rule he adds a running commentary to each name, either to -praise the generosity of the donor, or, on the contrary, to complain of -his stinginess. In the country, especially, the scene is not wanting in -humour. - -“_Daniel MacCarthy_, four shillings and six-pence,” says the priest. -“That’s not much for a farmer who keeps three cows and sold two calves -this year. I will hope for him that he only meant that as a preliminary -gift.... _Simon Redmond_, seven shillings and six-pence; he might have -given ten shillings, as he did last year. He is not what we should call -a progressive man.... _George Roehe_, two shillings and three-pence. -_Richard MacKenna_, one shilling and three-pence. _Denis Twoney_, one -shilling and nine-pence. Against those who do their best I have nothing -to say. _Michael Murphy_, fifteen shillings. Now, I ask, could not he -have made it a pound? The pity of it! _John Coleman_, five shillings. -_Daniel Clune_, five shillings. _Cornelius Nagle_, five shillings. One -would think they had agreed to do it.... _Henry Townsend_, Esq., of -Townsend Manor, three pounds sterling. That’s what I call a subscriber! -And he is a Protestant. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves to let a -Protestant be more generous to your own church than you are.... _Harriet -O’Connor_, one shilling and nine-pence. I will be bound she liked buying -a new bonnet better than doing her duty. That is between her and her -conscience. But I am afraid that at the Day of Judgment she won’t find it -such a good investment.... _Mary Ann Cunningham_, twelve shillings and -nine-pence. If everybody knew how to spare and how to use what they spare -in the same way as this good lady, things would go better in this world -and in the next, take my word for it.... _Colonel Lewis_, of Knockamore -Villa, five pounds sterling. Another Protestant! Positively one might -think one lived in a parish of heathens when one sees that the heretics -alone seem to have some regard for the church!...” - -The reading goes on in this guise, adorned with reflections more or less -pungent, and interrupted now and then by a repartee coming from the far -end of the audience, and torn from the patient by the malignity of the -attack; a general hilarity is then provoked without impairing in the -least the reverence of the congregation for their priest or their church. -This semestrial subscription, added to the weekly collections, the daily -masses, the baptisms, weddings and burials, is amply sufficient to keep -the church, the priest, and the priest’s house in a good state of repair. -Most of the parish priests besides, have the habit of “binage,” that is -to say they often say two or three masses a day, at different points of -their sometimes very wide parish. - - * * * * * - -They are generally addressed by their christian name, prefaced by the -name of _Father_: _Father James_, _Father Henry_, etc., and this title -well describes the terms of filial familiarity of the flocks with their -pastor,—a familiarity not unfrequently manifested by sound boxes on the -ear for children, and good blows with the stick on the shoulders of -his grown-up parishioners, but which does not preclude respect. In the -streets one always sees the parish priest respectfully greeted by the -passers by; many women kneel down to kiss his hand as in Italy or Spain. - -His authority is that of a patriarch, who not only wields spiritual -power, but also, to a great extent, social and political power. He -incarnates at once in himself the native faith so long proscribed in the -country, resistance to the oppressor, heavenly hopes and compensation for -human trials. As a consequence, his influence is great, for good as for -ill. - -The faith of the Irish peasant is entire, unquestioning, absolute as that -of a thirteenth century’s serf. One must see on Sundays those churches -crowded to overflowing, and too narrow for the congregation who remain, -silent and kneeling, on the steps and even outside the doors. One must -see those ragged people, forming a chain by holding on to each other’s -tatters, one behind the other, at a distance of 50 to 60 feet from the -altar, a patch of dim light up there in the darkness of the church; or -else they must be seen at some pilgrimage round a miraculous well or -stream, like the Lough Derg, wallowing indiscriminately in the pond, -washing therein their moral and physical uncleanliness, drinking the -sacred water by the pailful, intoxicated with enthusiasm and hope. - -The devotees of Our Lady del Pilar, and of San Gennaro, are less -expansive and less ardent. The Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Rosary, St. -Philip of Neri, all the mystical armoury of the modern church have -innumerable votaries in Ireland. One would perhaps experience some -difficulty in finding there ten born Catholics not wearing next to their -skin some amulet made of cloth or ivory, and invested in their eyes with -supernatural powers. If I do not greatly err, St. Peter’s pence must find -its more generous contributors amidst those poverty-stricken populations. -To those imaginations of starved and half hysterical people the Roman -pontiff appears in the far distance, all in white, in a halo of gold, -like a superhuman vision of Justice and Pity in this world where they -found neither the one nor the other. - -An Irish servant in London once asked my advice about the investment of -her savings, some thirty pounds which she had scraped together at the -Post Office Savings Bank. I congratulated her on her thrift, when the -poor girl told me, her eyes bright with unshed tears: - -“It is for our Holy Father, that they keep in prison up there in Rome.... -I mean to bring him fifty pounds as soon as ever I get them.” - - * * * * * - -Those things may tend to explain why the only prosperous trade in Ireland -is the clerical trade. Every year the number of priests increases, though -the population is decreasing. In 1871 they numbered 3,136; in 1881 they -were 3,363, or an increase of 227, under the guidance of four archbishops -and twenty-four bishops. The Catholic population is of three million -persons; that gives one priest for about 900 inhabitants. - -It is generally admitted that each of these priests, with his church and -his house, cannot cost much under £300 or £400 a year. That would give -about £1,200,000 coming annually from the pockets of those labourers and -servant girls. The tithe was never so heavy. - -This clergy is chiefly recruited from the class of small farmers and -peasantry (by the reason that the other classes are for the majority -Protestants); as a consequence the clergy share all the passions of -their class. The agrarian revolution has no agents more active. Almost -everywhere the parish priest is the president of the local Land League -Board. In the stormiest meetings is always to be found a village Peter -the Hermit, preaching the new crusade and denouncing the landlords -with fiery eloquence; not to speak of the Sunday preaching, which is -only another meeting closed against the police, and where landlords -are handled with extraordinary freedom of language. One has seen Irish -priests openly declare a shot to be an unimportant trifle, so long as -it was sent after a landed proprietor. A few months ago a Dublin paper -mentioned a parish in Donegal, where the priest, they asserted, had gone -so far as to put the properties of the landlords in lottery, by tickets -of ten shillings each. The verification of this fact would by no means -be easy. But, given the state of mind of the Irish priest, the ardour he -brings into the struggle, the boundless indulgence he displays towards -agrarian outrages, the tale is by no means improbable; our Leaguers have -done even worse. However surprising may be in our Continental eyes the -spectacle of a whole clergy taking part against the lords in a social -war, under the paternal eyes of their episcopate, we must remember that -here everything tends to bring about this result:—religious passions, -hereditary instinct, and personal interest. - - * * * * * - -A priest who had the unlucky idea of pronouncing himself against the -League would soon see his subsidies stopped. His flock would besides lose -all confidence in him, and all respect for his person. I am told of a -characteristic example of the kind of practical jokes indulged in such -a case by the peasantry against the dissident pastor. A priest of the -county Clare, seized by sudden scruples, took it into his head to abuse -the League at the Sunday preaching, instead of sounding the usual praise -in its honour. At once they sent him from the lower end of the church -an old woman who begged to be heard directly in confession, before she -could approach Holy Communion. The worthy man, grumbling a little at such -an untimely fit of devotion, nevertheless acceded to her request with -antique simplicity, and seated himself inside the confessional. - -“Father,” said the old woman in aloud voice, “I accuse myself of having -this moment thought that you were a wicked bad man, who betrays his flock -to take the part of their natural enemies....” - -“Amen!” answered all the congregation in a chorus. - -Without waiting for absolution the old woman had got up to go. The priest -tried to imitate her. Impossible. They had placed on his seat a huge lump -of pitch which glued him, attached him indissolubly to his place. To get -him free they were obliged to go for help outside, to call strangers to -the rescue. The whole village meanwhile were shaking with laughter, and -thought the joke in the best possible taste. - -The Irish clergy go with the League, both because their temperament -inclines them that way, and also because it is an imperious necessity -of their situation; their case is rather similar to that of the _Home -Rule_ members, who were compelled to enter the movement, whether they -approved of it or not. However strong their hold on the mass of the rural -population, their influence would vanish in a week if they tried to pull -against the irresistible stream. Such sacrifices have never been a habit -of the Roman Church. - -Indeed it is permitted to smile, when one sees the Tory Ministry -soliciting the intervention of the Pope in the Irish crisis, and -obtaining from him the sending of a special legate entrusted with the -mission of bringing the Episcopate of Ireland back to less subversive -ideas. It is well understood that the Pope of course sends his legate, -and derives from his diplomatic compliance all the advantages it entails. -But he is better aware than any one that unless he personally gave away -one million sterling a year to the parish priests of Ireland, he would -have little reasonable hope of success in asking them to shift their -policy. - -Is it necessary to add that the Irish priest himself knows on occasion -how to bring into his mundane relations the traditional suppleness and -prudence of his order? A priest of Wexford, actively mixed up with the -agrarian movement, was dining a few years ago at the house of Mr. C⸺, -proprietor of a large landed estate in the county. Conversation turned -upon the League, and no good was said of it. The priest listened in -silence, without giving his sentiment either for or against the League. -All of a sudden, with a look of assumed simplicity, he turned to his host— - -“Look here, Mr. C⸺,” he said, “Will you believe me? _Me impresshun is -that there is no Land League._” - -The saintly man had for the last three months been vice-president of the -board of the Land League in his district. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -FORT SAUNDERS. - - - GALWAY. - -Galway is an old Spanish colony, planted on the western coast of -Ireland, and which kept for a long time intimate relations with the -mother country. Things and people have retained the original stamp to an -uncommon degree; but for the Irish names that are to be read on every -shop, you could believe yourself in some ancient quarter of Seville. -The women have the olive complexion, black hair, and red petticoat of -the _mañolas_; the houses open on a courtyard, a thing unknown in other -parts of Ireland, as well as in Great Britain; they have grated windows, -peep-holes in the door, and are adorned with sculptures, in the Moorish -style; the steeples of churches affect the shape of minarets; the very -fishermen in the port, with the peculiar shape of their boat, sails and -nets, and something indescribable in their general outline, remind you of -the hardy sailors of Corunna. - -The remembrance of seven or eight centuries of busy trade with the -Peninsula, does not show itself solely in faces, manners, or dwelling, it -is to be found also in local tradition. Among others, there is the story -of the Mayor Lynch Fitz-Stephen, who gave in 1493 such a fearful example -of ruthless justice. His only son, whom he had sent to Spain to settle -some important affair, was coming back with the Spanish correspondent of -the family, bringing home a rich cargo, when he entered into a conspiracy -with the crew, appropriated the merchandise, and threw overboard the -unfortunate Spaniard. The crime was discovered, the culprit arrested, and -brought to trial before his own father, who was exercising the right of -high and low justice in the district, and by him condemned to the pain of -death. The general belief was that the Mayor would contrive to find some -pretext to give his son a respite; and in order to supply him with that -pretext, his relations drew up a petition of grace, which they presented -to him, covered with signatures. Lynch listened to their request, then -merely told them to come back for an answer on a certain day he named. -At the appointed time the suppliants appeared again; but the first sight -which caught their eyes was the dead body of the Mayor’s son hanging from -one of the grated windows of his house. An inscription, placed in 1524, -on the walls of the cemetery of St. Nicholas, records the memory of that -event. - -Galway is only a big borough nowadays, where ruins are nearly as numerous -as inhabited dwellings. From the road that skirts the Bay, after leaving -the harbour, the long islands of Arran may be seen rising on the west; -from another road, which goes northwards, Lough Corrib appears, famous -for its salmon fisheries. As an historic place, the county possessed -already the field of Aughrim, celebrated for two centuries as the spot -where James II. lost his last battle against William III.—a battle so -murderous that the dogs of the country retained a taste for human flesh -for three generations after. But since the last year it has acquired -a new celebrity: another and no less epic battle has been fought at -Woodford in August, 1886, for the agrarian cause. The account of it is -worth telling. Never did the character of the struggle between League and -landlord appear in such a glaring light. All the factors in the problem -are there, each playing its own part. It is like a vertical cut opening -Irish society down to its very core, and permitting to see it from basis -to summit; a supplementary chapter to Balzac’s _Paysans_. - -Woodford is a pretty village seated on the shore of Lough Derg on the -slope of the hills which divide Galway from Clare. The principal -landowners there are the Marquis of Clanricarde, Sir Henry Burke, the -Westmeath family, Colonel Daly, and Lord Dunsandle. Agrarian hatred is -particularly alive in that district; the Galway man is bloodthirsty, -and counts human life as nought. Five or six years ago Mr. Blake, Lord -Clanricarde’s agent, was shot dead, and in March, 1886, a bailiff named -Finley, a veteran of the Crimean war, had the same fate while he was -going to proceed to an eviction on the account of Sir Henry Burke. The -spot is shown still where the unfortunate man was murdered and his corpse -left twenty-four hours without sepulture, nobody daring or willing to -bear it away. A detachment of the police in the pay of the Property -Defence Association having settled their barracks in the vicinity of -Woodford, the inhabitants, about one thousand in number, organized a sort -of grotesque pageant, which made its progress along the streets of the -town behind a coffin bearing the inscription: _Down with landlordism!_ -then concluded by burning the coffin in sight of the barracks. - -There are two churches, one Protestant, the other Catholic. The faithful -who attend the first are two in number, no mere nor less, which would be -sufficient to show how legitimate it was for the Irish to protest when -obliged to pay the tithes of an altogether alien worship. The second -is headed by a jolly compeer, much beloved by his parishioners for his -good humour and liberality, Father Caen, a pastor of the old school, -whose boast it is that he keeps the best table and cellar, and has the -prettiest nieces in the county. He is president of the local board of -the League; the treasurer of that committee is the _guardian of the poor -law_ of the district, what we would call “l’administrateur du bien des -pauvres;” but the true agent of the League—the _Deus ex machina_ of the -place—is the secretary, Father Egan, curate of the parish, an austere, -thin, fanatic-looking man, a peasant’s son, with all the passions of his -race, who sucked the hatred of landlords with his mother’s milk, and ever -remembers that many of his kindred have been reduced to emigrate, and -that an uncle of his went mad after being evicted. A feature to be noted -down; that priest, tall, strong, sinewy, is an excellent shot and an -inveterate poacher. Nothing would be easier for him than obtaining leave -from the landowners to shoot on their grounds; but he scorns the leave. -His delight is to lurk at night till he has shot some of their big game, -or to head openly a _battue_ for a general slaughter five miles round. - - * * * * * - -One of the finest estates in the county is that of Lord Clanricarde, to -which are attached three hundred and sixteen tenants. - -Hubert George De Burgh Canning, Marquis of Clanricarde and Baron -Somerhill, was born 1832, according to the _Peerage_. He was never -married, has no children, belongs to the House of Lords as Baron -Somerhill, is a member of two or three great clubs, and lives in -Piccadilly, at the Albany, a sort of caravanserai (not to say seraglio), -almost exclusively a resort of rich bachelors. That is about all that is -known of him. His tenants do not know him. The only glimpse they ever had -of their landlord was on the following occasion. In 1874, at the funeral -of the late Marquis, a man of about forty, with fair hair, who had come -from London for the ceremony, was noticed among the mourners. He was said -to be the new master. That was all: he disappeared as he had come. Save -for that hazy and far-away remembrance, the landlord is for the Woodford -people a mere name, a philosophical entity of whom they know nothing -except that he has a land agent at Loughrea, a little neighbouring town, -and that into the hands of that agent they must pay every year £19,634 -out of the product of the land. The tenants of Woodford are in that sum -for about £1,000. - -The Marquis’s father died in 1874. Quite contrary to the present owner, -he was the prototype of the Irish lord resident. Great sportsman, -scatter-brain, violent, extravagant, but kind and open-handed, he was -liked in spite of his numerous failings, and tradition helping him he was -emphatically the master almost all his life long; a fact which he was -wont to illustrate by boasting that if it pleased him to send his old -grey mare to the House of Commons, the electors would be too happy to -vote unanimously for the animal. - -In 1872, however, the Marquis’s tenants took it into their heads to cut -the tradition, and gave their vote to a certain Captain Nolan, the _Home -Rule_ candidate. The irascible nobleman took revenge for what he chose to -consider as a personal insult by raising the rent of all bad electors. -He went so far in that line that in 1882 the _Land Commissioners_ had -to reduce them by half. That judgment could not, of course, have a -retrospective effect and bring a restitution of the sums that had been -paid in excess during the last ten years, and which varied from £50 to -£100. It may be imagined how they must weigh still on the peasant’s -heart, and what a well-prepared ground the agrarian movement was to find -at Woodford. The successive murders of the land agent Blake and Bailiff -Finlay were among the first and visible signs of that ferment of hatred. - - * * * * * - -Those crimes, which remained unpunished, and the responsibility of which -is thrown at each other’s heads by the two parties, came with the usual -accompaniment of fires, mutilations, verbal and written threats. The -reign of terror had begun in the district; no bailiff was any longer -willing to serve a writ or assignation. There came a time when the -landlords nearly gave up all hope of finding a land agent to take the -place of the one who had been murdered; at last they discovered the man—a -certain Joyce, of Galway—a man who united an indomitable spirit with -the most consummate skill; deeply versed in the art of talking to the -peasant, a fine shot, carrying his potations well; ready for anything. -A professional exploit had made his name famous in the neighbourhood. -Having to serve writs upon several farmers, and being unable to find -bailiffs willing to carry them, he made a general convocation in his -office of all the debtors, with the pretext of submitting to them some -mode of accommodation. The proposition being unanimously rejected, Joyce -gets up, goes to the door, and after having turned the key, leans with -his back against it; then, producing out of his pocket as many writs as -there were farmers in his room, distributes them among the visitors. The -poor devils were caught; according to the terms of the law, nothing but -submission was left to them. It will not be unnecessary to add here that -Joyce, a born Catholic, had been recently converted to Protestantism, -which is reputed an abomination in Ireland, and consequently went by the -name of the _renegade_. Such was the man who came to settle at Loughrea -under protection of a special guard of constables, and hostilities soon -began. - - * * * * * - -The harvest of 1885 had been but indifferent, and besides, by reason of -American competition, the price of the chief local products had fallen -down considerably—from about 15 to 20 per cent.—which implies for the -farmer an utter impossibility to pay his rent, unless the nett profit he -draws from the soil be estimated above 15 or 20 per cent. of his general -receipt. Even in Ireland reasonable landlords are to be found. Those who -understood the situation felt for their tenants, and, without waiting to -be asked, granted a reduction of rent. At Woodford, Lord Dunsandle and -Colonel Daly of their own impulse, and Sir H. Burke after some demur, -gave up 15 per cent. of the unpaid rent. - -As for Lord Clanricarde, he gave not the least sign of existence. When -the November term came, his tenants demanded a reduction of 25 per cent., -upon which Joyce declared that not a penny was to be given up. This -seemed so hard that it was generally disbelieved; and an opinion spread -itself that by applying personally to the landlord justice would be -obtained. A collective address, signed by the 316 Woodford tenants, was -accordingly drawn up and presented to him. - -The Marquis of Clanricarde vouchsafed no manner of answer. Then, Father -Egan put himself in motion. He first obtained from the Bishop of Clonfert -that he would send a second petition to the master, representing to -him the true state of affairs, the reduction consented to by the other -landlords, &c. Lord Clanricarde did not even acknowledge reception of the -prelate’s letter. Let us state here, once for all, that he never swerved -from the attitude he had adopted from the beginning, so aggressive in its -very stolidity. Never once did he depart from that silence, except when -he once wrote to the _Times_ that, personally, he did not object to the -proposed reduction, but was in the habit of leaving to his agent the -care of that sort of thing. - -Seeing that there was no satisfaction whatever to be expected from him, -the Woodford tenants imitated their landlord, and henceforth gave no -sign of life, or paid him a single farthing. In the month of April, -1886, Joyce resorted to the legal ways and set up prosecutions against -thirty-eight of the principal farmers, whose debt was £20 and above, -assuming by that move the attitude of a moderate man who has to deal with -obvious unwillingness to pay. - -And it was that which gave to the Woodford affair its peculiar character, -which made it a _test case_, a decisive trial where the contending forces -have measured their strength, where the inmost thought of the Irish -peasant has shown itself in full light. If the chiefs of the League had -singled it out from amidst a hundred (as, indeed, we may believe they -did, whatever they might aver to the contrary), they could never have -achieved a more complete demonstration of their power. Chance, however, -had also its usual share in the turn which affairs took. Joyce, it -appears, had began prosecutions against seventy-eight lesser tenants, and -at the moment when success was on the point of crowning his efforts, the -procedure was quashed for some legal flaw. - -As for the bigger ones, judgment had been entered against them, and the -execution followed. The first step was the selling out in public court -of the tenant’s interest in his holding. Ten of the men capitulated -immediately, paying the rent in full with interest and law costs, that -is to say, about 80 per cent. above the original debt. As for the -twenty-eight others, fired by political passion, pride, and the ardent -exhortations of Father Egan, they did not waver, and allowed the sale to -proceed. - -Agreeably to the usage established since the League has been supreme in -Ireland, not one bidder came forward at the sale. The representative of -the landlord therefore remained master of the situation, and got for a -few shillings the interest of the twenty-eight farmers—interest which, in -certain cases, was worth £200 and more. - -It now remained to evict those tenants from their farms, and take -possession in their place. Let us remark that, being certain of having -allowed the landlord, through the sale, to help himself to a value -of five or six times his due, those men were bound to consider such -an eviction a gratuitous piece of cruelty. Well knowing before-hand -that the eviction would by no means be an easy task, for all Ireland -breathlessly followed the course of events, Joyce singled out amongst -the twenty-eight defaulters, the four tenants for whom the eviction was -sure to bear the hardest character, namely, Conroy, Fahey, Broderick, -and Saunders. These were all people of comfortable means, who had for -many years been established on their lands, who were profoundly attached -to the house where their children or grand-children had been born, and -which they had themselves built, enlarged and improved at great expense; -rural _bourgeois_ rather than peasants; men that in a French country town -should have been mayors, _adjoints_, or municipal councillors. - -For each of them eviction not only meant ruin, the voluntary and -definitive loss of a small fortune laboriously acquired, and which could -be estimated in each case at ten or twelve times the amount of the annual -rent; it was, besides, the upsetting of all their dearest habits, the -destruction of home, the end of domestic felicity. “Placed between this -result and the choice of paying £30 or £40, which he has in his strong -box, or which he will experience no difficulty in borrowing if he has -them not—what country-bred man would hesitate?” thought Joyce. “Conroy, -Fahey, Broderick, and Saunders shall pay! They shall pay, and after them -the others must inevitably follow suit.” - -This was very sound reasoning. But Joyce calculated without the League -and its agent, Father Egan. The four chosen victims did not pay. With a -resolution that must really seem heroic to whoever knows the workings -of a peasant’s soul, Conroy, Fahey, Broderick, and Saunders unanimously -declared that the agent might expel them by force—_if he could_—but yield -they would not. - -Ah! there was a fearful struggle. It was not without the most terrible -inner combat that they kept their word. At home they had the money ready; -nothing could be simpler than to go and pay it. Now and then temptation -waxed almost too strong. James Broderick is an old man of seventy years. -One day, called to Loughrea by the tempter, he went, in company with his -friend Fahey. - -“Now, look here, Mr. Broderick,” Joyce said to him, “it goes to my heart -to evict a good man like you from such a pretty house.... You have lived -in it for these thirty years—it is the pearl of Woodford.... Let us make -an arrangement about all this: you pay me down your rent with for costs, -and I give you any length of time for the rest.... His lordship will -even give you back the tenant-right for the price he paid himself,—fifty -shillings.... Now what do you say?”... - -Old Broderick wavered; he was on the point of yielding. - -“Indeed, Mr. Joyce, you cannot do more than that,” ... he uttered in a -trembling voice, involuntarily feeling for his pocket-book. - -But Fahey was there. He took the old man’s arm and drew him aside. - -“It is not _time_ that we want!” he said to him. “_What we want is to -uphold the principle!_” - -Truly a great word. As fine as any recorded on History’s page, for those -who know how to understand it rightly. If the peasants can remember a -principle when their property is in question, verily one may say that the -times are near being fulfilled! - -All conciliatory means were now exhausted. It only remained to have -recourse to force. Joyce knew better than anyone what resistance he was -going to encounter. Personally he thought he was going to meet death. He -went resolutely nevertheless, but not without surrounding himself with a -regular army. - -The bailiffs of the place refusing to act, some had to be sent for from -Dublin. Those bailiffs, escorted by about a hundred emergency men, were -supported besides by five hundred constables armed with rifles and -revolvers. Woodford lies at a distance of about twenty miles from the -nearest railway. The traps and horses necessary to carry all these people -had to be sent down from Dublin, nobody consenting to give any manner of -help. The same thing occurred for provisions and for the implements of -the siege, pickaxes, levers, iron crowbars, which were indispensable to -the assailants, and which were brought down with the army to Portumna. -These preparations lasted three weeks. The mobilisation, decreed by Joyce -at the end of July, could only be completed by the 17th of August. - -On the next day, the 18th, this army moved forward and left Portumna in a -column, marching on Woodford. - -But on their side the Leaguers had not remained inactive. - -All the night long squads of voluntary workmen had been hard at work. -When the police caravan arrived in sight of the village, they found the -road barred by trees and heaps of stones placed across the way. They were -obliged to dismount and go round by the fields. - -In the meantime, from the top of the neighbouring heights horns were -signalling the appearance of the enemy; the chapel bells began to toll -an alarm peal. From all the points of the compass an immense multitude -of people hastened to come and take up their position on the hills of -Woodford. - -When the bailiffs made their appearance, headed by Joyce, armed to the -teeth, by the under-sheriff whom the duty of his charge obliged to -preside at the execution, and leading on five hundred policemen, an -indescribable, formidable howl rose up to heaven; the Irish _wail_ which -partakes of the lion’s roar and of the human sob, of the yell of the -expiring beast and of the rushing sound of waters. - -That lugubrious hooting was to last during two entire days, with -full-stops, _da capo_, _decrescendo_ and _rinforzando_ of great effect. - - * * * * * - -The first house attacked by the assailants was that of Conroy. It is a -solid, comfortable-looking dwelling, built on the bank of Lough Derg. -To the under-sheriff’s summons, the inhabitants, posted on the roof, -answered only by derisive laughter. The door, which was of solid oak, was -closed and barred inside. The order was given to break it open. A few -minutes’ work sufficed to do it. - -When it fell crashing under the axes, it was perceived that a wall had -been built behind it.... A triumphant shout rose from the crowd. - -“A breach must be made!” thundered Joyce. The stone wall was attacked. -Immediately, from the roof, from the windows, poured a deluge of scalding -hot lime-water, which fell on the assailants, blinded them, burnt them, -and sent them back howling and dancing with pain. Again the crowd -applauded, saluting with screams of laughter every ladleful of hot water -that took effect. The custom of Galway authorizes, it appears, that -singular way of defending one’s house. _It is no breach of the peace._ -One can scald the bailiffs without any qualms of conscience or fear of -consequences. - -Nothing loth, the Conroy family freely used the permission. The miracle -was that they did not use more murderous weapons. But the League’s -agents were there holding back, according to their custom, the too fiery -spirits, and keeping them within the bounds of legal hostilities. At -their head the priest Egan was conspicuous, loudly advising the besieged, -pointing out to them the uncovered assailants, telling them on what -point to direct the effort of resistance. As for the police, mute and -motionless, they beheld the drama without taking part in it. Four hours’ -work were needed to make the breach. At last the bailiffs were able to -enter the house, expel the inhabitants, and take possession of it. They -were obliged literally to carry away the youngest Miss Conroy, who -desperately clung to the walls and furniture, and refused to come out of -her own will. - - * * * * * - -Night came, and the bailiffs have no right to carry on their proceedings -after sunset. They were therefore obliged to postpone their operations -till the next day. What made matters worse was, that they must -necessarily go back to Portumna, for they need expect to find no lodgings -in Woodford. It is easy to foretell the complication of events that now -followed. - -The whole of next day was employed in the eviction of Fahey. That of -Broderick lasted another day, and caused the arrest of twenty-seven -persons, for in spite of the League’s efforts heads were waxing hotter -and hotter, and the combatants began to be rather too excited on both -sides. - -But where resistance took a truly epic character was in the house of -Thomas Saunders. With twenty-three comrades he held in check all assaults -_during four entire days_. Not content with scalding the bailiffs by -means of pumps and cauldrons installed on purpose, he had, by a stroke of -genius, the idea of throwing on them hives of bees, that came out enraged -from their cells and cruelly stung everything before them. Who knows -that there may not be in this a precious indication for future warfare! -European strategists may before long add “the chaste dew-drinkers,” -as Victor Hugo called them, to the pigeons and the war-dogs. However -that may be, Joyce’s mercenaries, burnt, stung, and crest-fallen, were -compelled, for three nights running, to retreat on Portumna. - -The green flag meanwhile was proudly waving its folds on the summit of -Saunders’ house, which enraptured Ireland, intoxicated with joy at the -news of this unprecedented siege, immediately baptized _Fort Saunders_. -Agitation was fast spreading over the whole country. The military -authorities judged it indispensable to send down 200 mounted men, and to -have the place patrolled at night. In Portumna councils of war were held, -and serious thoughts were entertained of having recourse to the antique -battering-ram and “tortoise” in order to approach the place and succeed -in taking it. Three days passed in new preparations and supplementary -armaments. - -At last, on the 27th of August, a new assault was attempted. It failed -like all the others, but the law must, it was felt, at all costs, be -enforced; the police interfered about some technical point, took the -house at the bayonet’s point and made all its inmates prisoners. - -Thus ended, without effusion of blood, this memorable campaign; three -weeks’ preparation, eight days’ fighting, a thousand men on foot, -enormous expense had been required in order to succeed in evicting four -tenants of the Marquis of Clanricarde, out of a number of 316, and that -in the midst of scandalous scenes which gave the noisiest publicity to -the agrarian cause. Everybody was of opinion that enough had been done, -and evictions were stopped. - -The affair at Woodford marks a date in the annals of the Irish -revolution. One has seen in it peasants living in relatively good -circumstances fight for principles and go to the furthest ends of -legality,—without overstepping them. Moreover, these events have taken -place in a county famed for its violence and represented in Parliament -by Mr. Matthew Harris, which is saying enough; (his motto was, till -lately, “When you see a landlord, shoot him down like a partridge”). -Three or four years sooner such events could not have taken place without -involving fifteen or twenty deaths of persons. Here not a single one -occurred. One could not but acknowledge that the honour of this was due -to the League, to its moderating and constitutional influence. In vain -it protested that it had nothing to do with those conflicts; its agents -and its general instructions played the first part in it. Therefore it -reaped all the fruits of this, came out of the ordeal greater, surrounded -with a poetical halo, sovereign. History often has such ironies. At the -price of their domestic happiness, four obscure heroes had just won in -face of public opinion the cause of the serfs of the glebe against the -lords. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. - - - SLIGO. - -In all the cabins I enter, the first object that meets my eyes on the -wall, besides a portrait of Parnell or Gladstone, is, enshrined between -the bit of sacred palm and the photograph of the emigrant son, a sheet of -printed paper, sometimes put under a glass, and headed by these words, -“The Plan of Campaign.” This is a summary of the instructions given by -the League to its followers in November, 1886, and of the various means -by which the position may be made untenable by the landlords. - -That order of the day of the agrarian army was, however, absent from the -house furniture of one of my friends, Mat Cloney; he was a fisherman on -the Garvogue, near Lough Gill, and close to the ruins of the Abbey of -Sligo; an old man of hale and pleasing countenance, whose weather-beaten -face was shaded by a plenteous crop of gray hair, and lighted up by two -wonderfully bright blue eyes: a true Celt in manner and appearance. When -I entered his cabin for the first time he was engaged in preparing his -dinner; this consisted of a dried herring and a cold potato; but tearing -down from a hook near the fire-place a small piece of bacon, the old man -hastily rubbed it over a frying-pan, which he set on the dying embers; in -it he placed the herring. A great noise and spluttering followed, then -Mat, mindful of future feasts, thriftily hung his piece of bacon back on -its hook, and the herring being done, sat down to his meagre repast. - -“You see, sir,” he said contentedly, “it gives it a relish.” - -I must not omit to say that poor as his fare was, he nevertheless offered -me a share of it. I explained I had already lunched, and while he was -discussing his meal, we entered into conversation. - -“You must be pretty well advanced in years,” I said, “though one would -not think it to see how you manage your boat.” - -“_Shure_, sir, I was _borren_ in the _Ribillion_!” - -Let me here observe that this is the common answer given by many Irish -peasants as to their age. The “Ribillion” seems to have made an epoch in -their history, and they consider that any person over middle age must -have been born during that momentous period. The date appears to matter -little to them. So, though I entertained private doubts of Cloney’s being -89 years old, I let that pass, and we went on talking. - -“Have you any children?” - -“_Shire_ I have!... Me sons they are fishermen, and me daughters are all -marr’d, near here....” - -“And you live alone?” - -“Yes, sir, that I do.” - -“It must be a lonely life for you. Were you never tempted to marry again -after your wife’s death? A fine man like you would have had no difficulty -in finding a wife.” - -“Och, sir, after me ould woman died ... (with a burst of emotion) I -always remained a _dacent widowman_ ... that I did!...” - -While we were talking I had been looking at the walls of the cabin, and I -was surprised at finding none of the usual League’s documents upon them. -I turned to Mat and expressed my surprise. Instantly Mat let fall the -knife with which he was conveying a piece of herring to his mouth, and -burst into loud execrations. - -“Och! the b⸺ villains!” he exclaimed; “the dirty never-do-well wh⸺! the -de’il take them for his own! ... the whole lot is not worth a pennyworth -o’ salt; ... etc., etc.” - -I confess I rather wondered at this violence. But as everyone has a -perfect right to his own opinion, I did not press the point. - -“And you, sir, you be not English, are ye?” said Mat after a moment. He -had suddenly grown calm again. - -“No, I am French.” - -“Och! _Shure_ the French are foine fellows. I had an uncle that fought -the French for three days at Badajos, and he always said they were b⸺y -devils, ... begging your pardon, sir, foine fellows they were.... Me -uncle always said so, ... under _Bonney_ the French fought, ... b⸺d ... -foine fellows, to be sure.... Me uncle also said they had no landlords -down there. Now, is that true, sir?” added Mat Cloney, looking at me with -a queer expression of countenance. - -No landlords? could that be true? He seemed to consider such a state of -things suited to fairy-land. - -I explained that this was pure truth. In few words I told him how, -shortly before the _Ribillion_ dear to his heart, the French peasants had -risen as one man to get rid of their own landlords; how those landlords -had for the most part emigrated and taken up arms against their country, -which had caused the confiscation and sale of their lands. I added that -those lands were now the property of the French labourers, who highly -appreciate this state of affairs. - -Mat Cloney listened to me, his eyes glistening with interest. Therefore, -I was rather surprised when I stopped, and he abruptly asked me, as a -conclusion: - -“Do you know any of those Sligo gentlemen who come fishing about here, -sir?” - -“Indeed, I do not. I am a total stranger in these parts. It was the -manager at my hotel who sent me to you.” - -“That’s roight!” he exclaimed, as if relieved from some anxiety. “In that -case, sir, I am going to show you something!...” - -He went to a corner of the cabin, and after some rummaging in an old -sailor’s box, he produced from it a neatly folded paper which he placed -into my hands. I opened it with some curiosity. - -It was a supplementary sheet of the _United Ireland_, of Dublin, where -stood _in extenso_ the League’s Plan of Campaign. - -I looked at Mat Cloney. He was laughing silently. I at last understood -the riddle. The sly fox was at heart with the League (he dubbed it _the -Leg_; by the way, like many other Irishmen); but he judged it prudent in -any case to dissemble such subversive feelings, when he had to do with an -unknown person from the town; and being a peasant he rather overdid it. - -The ice was broken now. He let me study thoroughly the document he had -lent me, and even enriched it with luminous commentaries, in the course -of a pleasant day’s fishing. - - * * * * * - -The “Plan of Campaign” seems to have had for its father Mr. John Dillon, -one of the most universally, and the most deservedly, popular of the -Irish members; at all events, it was introduced to the public by that -gentleman in October, 1886, at an autumn meeting. Those mass meetings, -held every year after the harvest, have now become an institution, a -kind of _Witena-gemot_ of the Irish nation. People come to them from -the farthest ends of the island, by rail, in jaunting-cars, on foot, -on horseback, as the case may be; in such numbers that there is no -room or shanty large enough in the country to lodge the assemblage. So -they are open-air meetings. The particular one alluded to was convened -at Woodford, which has become, since the memorable battle on the -Clanricarde estate, a kind of Holy Place and agrarian Kaaba. Soon after -the autumn meeting, the scheme was approved by the authorities, at the -head-quarters of the League (although they prudently refrained from -committing themselves officially to it), and expounded in the special -supplement to the _United Ireland_, of which I hold a copy. It was to the -following effect:— - - Present rents, speaking roundly, are impossible. That the - landlords will press for them is certain. A fight for the - coming winter is therefore inevitable, and it behoves the - Irish tenantry to fight with a skill begotten by experience. - The first question they have to consider is how to meet the - November demand. Should combinations be formed on the lines of - branches of the National League, or merely by estates? We say - _by estates_ decidedly. Let branches of the National League, - if they will, take the initiative in getting the tenantry on - each estate to meet one another. But it should be distinctly - understood that the action or resolution of one estate was not - to bind any other, and the tenantry on every estate should be - free to decide upon their own course. - - When they are assembled together, let them appoint an - intelligent and sturdy member of their body as chairman, - and, after consulting, decide by resolution on the amount of - abatement they will demand. A committee consisting, say, of - six and the chairman, should then be elected, to be called a - Managing Committee, and to take charge of the half-year’s rent - of the tenant, should the landlord refuse it. - - Everyone should pledge himself (1) to abide by the decision of - the majority; (2) to hold no communication with the landlord - or any of his agents, except in presence of the body of the - tenantry; (3) to accept no settlement for himself which is not - given to every tenant on the estate. - - On the rent-day, the tenantry should proceed to the rent-office - in a body. If the agent refuses to see them in a body, they - should on no account confer with him individually, but depute - the chairman to act as their spokesman and acquaint them of - the reduction which they require. No offer to accept the rent - “on account” should be agreed to. Should the agent refuse, - then EVERY TENANT MUST HAND TO THE MANAGING COMMITTEE THE - HALF-YEAR’S RENT WHICH HE TENDERED TO THE AGENT. - - To prevent any attempt at a garnishee, this money should be - deposited by the Managing Committee with some one reliable - person, _whose name would not be known to any but the members - of the committee_. - - This may be called the estate fund, and it should be absolutely - at the disposal of the Managing Committee for the purposes - of the fight. Broken tenants who are unable to contribute - the reduced half-year’s rent should at least contribute the - percentage demanded from the landlord, that is the difference - between the rent demanded and that which the tenantry offer - to pay. A broken tenant is not likely to be among the first - proceeded against, and no risk is incurred by the general body - in taking him on these terms. - - Thus, practically a half-year’s rent of the estate is put - together to fight the landlord with. This is a fund which, - if properly utilised, will reduce to reason any landlord in - Ireland. - - How should the fund be employed? The answer to this question - must to some extent depend upon the course the landlord will - pursue; but in general we should say it must be devoted to the - support of the tenants who are dispossessed either by sale or - ejectment. - - It should be distributed by the committee to each evicted - tenant in the proportion of his contribution to the fund. A - half-year’s rent is supposed to maintain a tenant for a half - year, and based upon this calculation, a tenant who funded say - £50 would be entitled when evicted to receive £2 per week. - - _But not one penny should go in law costs._ This should be made - an absolute rule. For to pay law costs, such as attorney’s - letters, writs and judgments incurred by the landlord, is to - arm your enemy for the quarrel and furnish him with provisions - to boot. In a determined fight there are no “law costs” on - the side of the tenantry, and they should remain out for ever - rather than pay those which the landlord incurs in fleecing - them. - - Ejectment is the most common of the landlord’s remedies. Every - legal and constitutional obstacle which could oppose or delay - eviction should be had recourse to, for every hour by which the - sheriff is delayed in one eviction gives another brother tenant - so much more grace. There are only 310 days in the sheriff’s - year, and he must do all the evictions in a whole county within - the time. - - If, after eviction, a tenant is re-admitted as caretaker he - should go in, but _never_ upon the understanding that he would - care any other farm but his own. Should the tenant not be - re-admitted, shelter must be procured for him immediately by - the Managing Committee, and then, if necessary, a day appointed - when all would assemble to build him a hut on some spot - convenient to the farm where the landlord could not disturb - him. Wooden huts, such as those supplied by the League, waste - too much of the funds and become valueless when the tenant is - re-admitted. - - Sale is the resort of the landlord when he proceeds by writ - or process as an ordinary creditor. From eight to twelve days - are allowed after service of the writ before judgment can be - marked. The sheriff may seize cattle if he finds them on the - farm, or he may seize and sell the tenant’s interest in the - farm. A tenant who has his mind made up for the fight will - have his cattle turned into money before the judgment comes - on. Every tenant who neglects to dispose of them is preparing - himself to accept the landlord’s terms, for he will not wish - to see the emergency men profit by taking his cattle at some - nominal price, and if he buys he is in reality handing the - landlord the amount of his demand. Sale of a farm is not of so - much consequence. Every farm sold in this manner during the - agitation either has come or is bound to come back to its owner - even on better terms than he first held it. But if a man has - a very valuable interest in his farm, he can place it beyond - the sheriff’s power by mortgaging it to some one to whom he - owes money. Mortgage effected thus for a _bonâ fide_ debt or - consideration bars the sheriff’s power of conveyance at a sale. - If the landlord or emergency men be represented, the cattle - should not be allowed to go at a nominal sum. They should be - run up to their price, and, if possible, left in the hands of - emergency men at full price. It should be borne in mind that if - the full price be not realised the sheriff could seize again - for the balance. - - In bidding for a farm it should also be run to amount of debt, - but by a man of straw, or some one who, if it were knocked - down, would ask the sheriff for time to pay. By making the - landlord’s bidder run it up to the amount of debt and costs, - and leaving it on his hands, the sheriff cannot follow the - tenant further. No auction fees should be allowed. A farm held - on a lease for a life or lives, any one of which is extant, - cannot be sold by the sheriff. After sale a tenant is still - in possession of holding until a fresh writ is served and a - judgment for title marked against him. All this involves the - landlord in fresh costs. The eviction may then follow, and the - observations above recorded in case of ejectment or eviction - apply here. - - Distress, another of the landlord’s remedies, cannot be - resorted to for more than one year’s rent. Few landlords can - have recourse to this without exposing themselves to actions. - The chief points to attend to are:—That distress must be made - by landlord or known agent, or bailiff authorized by warrant - signed by the landlord or known agent; that particulars of - distress be served; seizure on Sunday is unlawful; seizure - before sunrise or after sunset is unlawful; or for any rent - due more than one year. Distress is illegal if growing crops - be seized, or the implements of a man’s trade; and if other - property be on farm to ensure landlord’s demand, it is - illegal to seize beasts of the plough, sheep, or implements - of husbandry necessary for the cultivation of the land. These - points should be carefully watched when landlord has recourse - to distress. - - Bankruptcy proceedings are too costly a machinery for general - use, and no landlord is likely to have recourse to them. - - It is unnecessary to add that landlords, and their partisans on - the magisterial bench and among the Crown officials, will do - all in their power to twist the operation of the law so as to - harass the tenants. - - A tenant taking possession of his house to shelter his family - from the severity of the winter is not likely to escape. A - summons for trespass must be preceded by a warning to the - tenant if he be found in possession. We have known a case where - the father complied with this warning, and on the bailiff’s - next visit the mother only was found, and she complied. Next - time the eldest daughter only was in possession, and so on - through the length of a long family, such as an evicted tenant - nearly always has. A goodly time had been saved before the - father’s turn came again. He was fined and went to gaol. The - prison then lost its terror for him. When he came out he stuck - boldly to his home, and he soon won the victory which rewards - determination. - - * * * * * - - The fullest publicity should be given to evictions, and every - effort made to enlist public sympathy. That the farms thus - unjustly evicted will be left severally alone, and everyone - who aids the eviction shunned, is scarcely necessary to say. - But the man who tries boycotting for a personal purpose is a - worse enemy than the evicting landlord, and should be expelled - from any branch of the League or combination of tenants. No - landlord should get one penny rent on any part of his estates, - wherever situated, so long as he has one tenant unjustly - evicted. This policy strikes not only at the landlord but the - whole ungodly crew of agents, attorneys, and bum-bailiffs. - Tenants should be the first to show their sympathy with - one another, and prompt publicity should be given to every - eviction, that the tenants of the evictor wherever he holds - property may show their sympathy. - - Such a policy indicates a fight which has no half-heartedness - about it, and it is the only fight which will win. - -Well may the author of the “Plan of Campaign” wind up his catechism by -the appropriate remark that “such a policy indicates a fight which has no -half-heartedness about it.” Never before was such a tremendous weapon of -social war put in motion. Never before, in the whole course of history, -was such a forcible ultimatum drafted for the consideration of the -adverse party. - -Leaving details aside, and the minute instructions on the true mode of -skirmishing with the myrmidons of the law, the idea of using the very -rent claimed by the landlord as a provision for feeding the struggle -against him is in itself perfection—a real masterpiece of strategy. An -artist can only feel the warmest admiration for such a combination of -everything that is most pleasant to the heart of the agrarian warrior -and most deadly to the landlord’s cause. As an orator of the League (Mr. -W. O’Brien) has put it: “We have discovered a weapon against landlordism, -the mere threat and terror of which have already brought down -rack-renters to their knees. We have discovered a weapon which feudal -landlordism can no more resist than a suit of armour of the middle ages -can resist modern artillery.” And the country where such an admirable -paper has been penned by its political leaders is supposed by its foes to -be unable to rule its own affairs! This is unfairness with a vengeance. -Let those meet its provisions, since they are so very clever. - -The wonder, however, is not that such a policy should have been dreamed -of. Similar plans of warfare have more than once been drawn out in the -council chamber of parties. The wonder is that this one should have been -deemed practicable by the farmers of Ireland; that it should have been -unanimously accepted by them; and, what is more, put at once into effect. -Another wonder is that it should have been found _lawful_, on the best -legal authority, and that it should have remained unopposed by the “Four -Courts” and “the Castle.” The greatest wonder of all is that it should -have enlisted the warm and public support not only of the lower ranks of -the clergy all over the island, but of the Episcopate itself; not only -of the Episcopate but of the Pope, since neither his special envoy in -Ireland nor his Holiness personally in any encyclical letter, have spoken -one word in condemnation of the “Plan of Campaign.” - -It has been in operation now for over one year; it has spread as far -as the leaders of the League have deemed it expedient, for thus far -they seem to have used it only moderately. “We did not desire,” they -say, “and we do not desire now that the ‘Plan of Campaign’ should be -adopted anywhere, except where the tenants have a just and moderate and -unimpeachable case.” But, none the less, it hangs as a formidable threat -over the heads of the doomed landlords. At a moment’s notice it may be -extended to the whole island, as it has been already to some hundred -estates in twenty-two counties. - -An idea of the state of affairs may be gathered from the account given by -the _Freeman’s Journal_ (December 3, 1886) of the scene witnessed on Lord -de Freyne’s property in county Sligo. His tenants asked for an abatement -of 20 per cent., and, being refused, they decided to adopt the “Plan of -Campaign.” - - There is nothing in the nature of a town or even a village - at Kilfree Junction, there being only two or three one-story - thatched cottages within sight of it. In one of these, the - nearest to the station, the rents were received by Mr. William - Redmond, M.P.; the Rev. Canon O’Donoghue, D.D.; Rev. Father - Henry, C.C.; and the Rev. Father Filan, C.C. The operations of - receiving the rents, entering amounts, and giving receipts to - the tenants occupied the greater part of the day, commencing - in early morning and continuing far in the afternoon. Although - the situation was rather a depressing one for the poor people - exposed to all the severity of the elements, they seemed - to be one and all animated by the greatest enthusiasm. The - interior of the cottage in which the rents were being collected - presented a spectacle really unique in its way. The first room, - a sort of combination of kitchen, sitting-room, and shop, was - crowded almost to suffocation by men and a few women, who were - sheltering from the snow which fell in great white flakes - without. There was no grate, but a few turf sods burned on - the hearth, while above them hung a kettle, suspended from an - iron hook fixed from the quaint old chimney. In the centre of - the bedroom leading off the apartment was a small table, at - which Mr. Redmond, M.P., the clergymen whose names are given - above, and one of the leading members of the local branch of - the National League were seated receiving the tenants’ rents. - The room was densely crowded, but the utmost order and decorum - prevailed, and the whole proceedings were conducted in the most - punctilious and business-like manner. - - The tenant handed the money to one of the gentlemen at the - table, his name was duly entered with the amount paid by him - into a book, and he was handed back a printed receipt for the - amount which he had lodged. - - As the day wore on, the pile of bank notes upon the table - mounted higher and higher, and the rows of glistening - sovereigns grew longer and longer, until they stretched across - the table like streams of yellow ore. It was difficult to - realise how those bleak western plains had ever produced so - much money, and the conviction seemed to force itself upon the - mind that a considerable part of it had either been earned by - work across the Channel, or in remittances from friends and - relations on the other side of the broad Atlantic. - - “Father,” exclaimed one of the younger men, pushing excitedly - his aged parent into the room where the rents were being paid - over, “come along; you have lived to strike a blow for freedom - and Ireland.” The words were uttered with earnestness and - enthusiasm. There are upwards of 300 tenants upon this estate - alone who have adopted the “Plan,” and a further sitting will - be necessary in order to receive the remaining lodgments. - - A couple of policemen, who looked chilled and spiritless, - walked about the platform, but made no attempt to interfere - with the proceedings. - -It would be useless to add the least comment to such a picture. When -similar scenes are witnessed everywhere over a country, and accepted by -every one as the natural consummation of events, and the law is impotent -to prevent them, the Revolution is not impending—it is practically -accomplished in the mind of all classes. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -SCOTTISH IRELAND. - - - ENNISKILLEN. - -If you did not know beforehand that you are entering a new Ireland -through Enniskillen, an Ireland, Scotch, Protestant, manufacturing, a -glance through the carriage-window would suffice to reveal the fact. -Over the hill, on the right, a fine country-house waves to the wind, as -a defiance to the League, his orange-coloured flag, the colours of the -“_Unionists_.” The landlords of Leinster, Munster, and Connaught, who are -Orangemen, as well as others, dare not proclaim their opinions so boldly, -hoist them at the top of the main mast, so to say; for it might simply -cost them their lives. You must come to “loyal Ulster” to see such acts -of daring, for the simple reason that they are without danger here. - -Another symptom, more eloquent still than the colour of the flag, is -the aspect of the landscape; no more uncultivated fields, no more -endless bogs and fens. Instead of those long, red, or black streaks -of peat, alternating with consumptive oat and potato-fields, green, -fat meadows, mown by steam, studded with cows, in the most prosperous -condition, spread themselves before your eyes. Some trees are to be seen -now. The hedges are in good repair, the horses well harnessed to solid -carts; the hay-stacks have a symmetrical outline, and vast fields of -flax nod under the breeze; the farm-houses are well built, flanked by -neat kitchen-gardens; in short, all gives the general impression of a -properly cultivated land. Nothing like the agricultural opulence of Kent -or Warwickshire though, but the normal state of a tolerably good land, -where human industry is not fighting against an accumulation of almost -insuperable obstacles. - -Is it that the law is different in Ulster? Not so, but the custom is. -From immemorial times the tenant-right has been admitted here; and in -consequence the farmer has never hesitated to introduce the necessary -improvements, and to invest his hoard in the land, sure as he is to -profit by it. - -That tenant is three times out of five of Scotch origin; three times out -of five he belongs to the Protestant persuasion (Episcopal, Presbyterian, -Methodist); there is not between him and his landlord the antagonism of -race and worship which is to be found in other provinces. The landlord -himself fulfils his duty better, and does not affect to spend abroad -the money he draws from his estate; often that landlord is some guild -or municipal corporation of London or elsewhere, which perhaps does not -make the best use possible of its income, but is nevertheless obliged -to justify more or less its privilege by some philanthropic foundation, -trials of culture on the large scale, innovation, and examples. - - * * * * * - -Lastly, Ulster is a neighbour to Scotland, and belongs to the same -geological, ethnological, commercial, and religious system. Capital is -less timorous here. It ventures to come, to stay, to circulate. By the -side of agriculture there are important factories, which help to sustain -and feed it. Instead of keeping invariably to oats, turnips, and the -time-honoured potato, the farmers grow flax on a large scale for the -400,000 spindles which are spinning at Belfast, Dundalk, and Drogheda. - -A certain tendency to aggregate small holdings, and to constitute in -that way great and middling farms, has been developing lately in Ulster. -The peasants are better lodged and fed than elsewhere in Ireland. They -find day-work more easily because agriculture is conducted there on more -scientific principles, and they are not condemned to remain idle four -days out of seven. In short, the economic condition of Scotch Ireland, -without being such as to be offered as a pattern to the civilised world, -is about as good as possible under the feudal _régime_ and landlordism. - - * * * * * - - LONDONDERRY. - -The signs of that relative prosperity are obvious. Thus in the -neighbourhood of Derry (we say Londonderry, but the natives all say -Derry), you observe with pleasure a line of tramcars moved by steam -machinery, which puts remote places in communication with the railway. -The carriages are of superior make, divided into three classes, towed -by an engine heated with petroleum. Coming, as you do, out of Mayo and -Galway, that steam tramway puffs in your face a breath of civilisation. -You seem to enter a different world. - -Derry, with its active traffic, its elegant iron bridge over the -Foyle, the fine, new buildings which attest its wealth, justifies that -impression. It is the capital of the famous “Ulster plantation” of James -I., entrusted by him to the “Honourable Irish Company,” which included -twelve guilds of the city of London. For a century or two those grants of -land did not answer as had been expected. But they have ended, in the -course of time, by being prosperous. The municipal estates of Coleraine -and Derry are accounted now the most flourishing in the island. - -Yet it does not follow that the tenant’s situation is very brilliant, -even in Ulster. One of the counties of the province, Donegal, is the -poorest in all Ireland, and two or three others are not much better. Even -in the richest parts the tenant bears chafingly the yoke of landlordism. -The Antrim Tenant Association went so far this year as to ask for a 50 -per cent. reduction on rent, owing to the low price of produce and the -sheer impossibility of going on paying at the previous rate. It must be -noted that tenant-right being rigorously observed in Ulster, the farmer -always pays when he is able; for any remissness in paying would diminish -by as much the value of his share in the proprietorship, which is -estimated on an average at 8 or 10 times the annual farm rent. - -The newspapers of the county, even when unfavourable to agrarian -revendications, unanimously acknowledge that by reason of the constant -going down of prices, resulting from American competition, the present -condition of the agriculturist is about as bad as it was in the worst -famine times. All the farmers without exception, be they of Scotch or -Irish race, aver that they actually pay from their own pockets every -penny they give the landlords; that is to say, they borrow it in the -shape of a loan on the value of their tenant-right. - -Such a state of things cannot continue. It explains how it is that -Presbyterian peasants, the most ardent enemies of Papistry—in theory—none -the less give the majority, even in Ulster itself, to the representatives -of Home Rule and the liquidation of landed property. - - * * * * * - - PORTRUSH AND THE GIANT’S CAUSEWAY. - -Portrush is a delicious sea-side place, at the mouth of Lough Foyle, -on the most wonderful coast in Europe; it is seated on the edge of the -Antrim table-land, which is of volcanic origin: probably a dependency -of Scotland geologically, rather than belonging properly to Ireland, to -which it came and welded itself, at some unknown epoch. The traveller -has there the agreeable surprise of a delightful hotel—one should say a -perfect one—a regular miracle of comfort; and the still greater surprise -of seeing there the only electric railway actually working on this -planet. That bijou-line is used to take the visitors to the wonder of -Ireland, the Giant’s Causeway. It ascends on the sea-side an acclivity -of about three to four hundred yards, and runs over a length of five -miles up to Bushmills, where the generators of electricity are set to -work by hydraulic power. Nothing is so fresh or unexpected as that -drive in open carriages. The train ascends lustily along the electric -guiding-rail in the midst of a well-nourished fire of sparkles called -to life by its iron hoofs. As it rises higher the prospect gets wider -and wider, and you get a view of the Scotch mountains only fifteen miles -distant, while the most extraordinary basaltic formations are following -one another under your eye along the coast. - - * * * * * - -The Antrim table-land, so geologists tell us, was formed by a layer of -lava three or four hundred yards high, spread over the chalky bottom of -the sea. Of the volcanoes which vomited that lava no vestige is to be -seen to-day. The glaciers, tumbling down from the neighbouring heights, -have cleared them away. In times remote, that table-land extended across -to Scotland, to which it united Ireland as by a sort of prodigious bridge -of lava. But the unremitting, incessant, work of the waters has eaten -away by degrees the cretaceous masses which supported it. The arches -of the bridge were then dislocated and precipitated into the ocean. -Only some traces of it on both sides are left standing now: the Giant’s -Causeway in Ireland, the point of Cantire in Scotland, and between the -two, the little Island of Rathlin. - -Along the coast of Antrim the waves continuing their destructive work, go -on gnawing the foundations of the cliffs, which they dig and carve like -lacework. Numberless grottoes, rocky needles shaped into the likeness of -steeples, deep chasms at the bottom of which the foaming waters are for -ever contending, are the result of that perennial work. - -Occasionally, as at Dunluce, to the fantastic work of nature, some ruin -that was once an illustrious stronghold, whose walls, literally hanging -over the abyss, seem to be attached to the firm ground only by a curved -arch of half-a-yard’s breadth, adds an element of tragic poetry. Under -the rock which bear those dilapidated walls, the sea has dug for itself -caves which are resounding night and day with the deafening noise of the -beating waves. It is grand and terrible in summer; one can imagine what -it must be when the tempest of a winter night unloosens its fury within -those caverns. - -Naturally they are, more than any other place in the world, rich in -legendary lore. The M’Quillans, to whom belonged Dunluce Castle, boast -an antiquity which outshines greatly that of the descendants of the -Crusaders. These are not people to be content, like Montesquieu, with two -or three hundred years of acknowledged nobility. They came from Babylon, -it appears, at an epoch exceptionally prehistoric, and can trace their -origin back to 4,000 years ago. The only branch in existence now dwells -in Scotland, and bear the title of lords of Antrim and Dunluce. - - * * * * * - -At Bushmills the electric train stops. There you alight and take your -seat in the car which brings you to the Causeway Hotel. Here, as the -air is decidedly bracing, and the majority of the tourists English, -luncheon is ready, as you may imagine. The classic salmon despatched in -company with a glass of ale or porter, the only thing to do is to look to -business and visit the marvels of the place. A wall, which the provident -administration of the hotel have raised for purposes of safety, hides -them as yet from your sight. When you have passed that obstacle you find -yourself within a sort of circus, delineated by the cliffs, and at the -extremity of which descends a path that looks anything but safe. Total -absence of causeway. Where must we look for it? This a swarm of guides, -cicerones, boatmen, beggars of all descriptions, offer to show you. They -all speak at the same time, fight, wrangle, make you deaf with their -jabbering. Wise is he who sends them to the devil, and follows peacefully -the pathway which goes to the extremity of the circuit, turns alone round -the foot of the cliff on the right, and penetrates, unaccompanied, into -the neighbouring bay. He will have the joy of a powerful, wholly personal -sensation, unalloyed by any impure element. But alas! how is one to guess -that? You think you are doing the right thing in giving the lead to a -professional guide. You choose among the howling crew the less ruffianly -face, and you deliver yourself into the hands of a cicerone. Fatal error! -Henceforward you cease to belong to yourself. You are no longer a being -endowed with reason and volition, with the free exercise of your rights; -you are an article of luggage in the hands of a porter, a disarmed -traveller in the power of a Calabrian desperado. - -Instead of taking you to the bay on the right, the arbiter of your -destiny begins by laying down as a dogma that the only means of seeing -the causeway properly is to approach it by sea. On the same occasion you -shall visit the marine caves. Allured by that programme, you follow the -man, and you embark with him in a boat rowed by two oarsmen, who greet -your advent rapturously. - - * * * * * - -Five minutes later you find yourself in total darkness under the oozing -vault of a cavern, where the fluctuations of the mountainous waves now -let the boat sink suddenly five or six yards down, now heave it up -against the roof, and threaten to shiver your skull to pieces. In the -midst of that frantic jogging and tossing the guide lights up a Bengal -flame, in order to display to better advantage the variegated tints of -the damp walls, or, it may be, to create the said tints, if they do not -exist. Then he lets off a pistol in your ear to awake the echoes of the -cavern, which answer to the call with deafening unanimity. - -This is the “psychological moment.” The rowers, laying down their oars, -take off their caps and hold them to you, explaining at the same time -that gunpowder is expensive. You hasten to accede to the request, and -soon after you find yourself, not without pleasure, in the daylight again. - -Not for long, however; for you are expected to do another cavern. You -submit meekly to the programme. Again that homicidal tossing; another -Bengal flame; a second pistol shot. This time the boatmen offer you a box -of geological specimens. As it is, you happen to abhor geology; but how -is one to resist people who have him in their power in a marine cave? - -Liberation comes in time. You breathe again. The miscreants have the face -to mention a third cavern! But this time you rebel. “No more caverns! The -causeway instantly!” - -You double a little promontory, and after two or three oar-strokes you -land on what seems to you at first a quay with a pavement made with -hexagon slabs. - -“Here you are, sir! This is the Giant’s Causeway.” Let us confess it -candidly: the first impression is disappointment. Is it then that -famous Causeway, that unrivalled wonder? You are ready to believe in -a mystification. But this is only a passing impression for which the -guides, not the Causeway, are responsible. - -The truth is, you must not approach it by sea if you wish to see it well. -It is by land only that it can be understood, like a symphony which -would lose half its charm if executed in the open air. The treason of -the guides is so cruel that it really cries for vengeance and must be -denounced. - -At last you have managed to get rid of them, and leaving the Causeway, -you have climbed up the steep neighbouring cliffs. And now looking round, -you are struck with stupefaction and rapture at the spectacle which -offers itself to your eyes. That sort of quay or footpath you deemed at -first mean or insignificant is in reality, when viewed properly, the most -stupendous whim of nature. Imagine a formidable array of forty thousand -columns of prismatic shape (some one gifted with patience has numbered -them), rising tall and majestic, and pressed against each other so as -to form a continuous, almost level pavement, which emerges from the sea -like a quay of marble. The symmetry of that pavement is so remarkable, -all those shafts of columns are so well clamped together, that it seems -almost impossible to admit that this is not human work. You fancy you are -walking on the hexagonal slabs of some Babylonian palace, whose walls the -storm has destroyed. These paving-stones are neat and even, about one -foot wide, and perfectly regular. Towards the middle of the quay they -rise in a sort of swelling, which permits one to study their anatomy and -to perceive that they are really formed by the section of as many upright -parallel prismatic columns. - -There are three Causeways,—the Great, the Little, and the Middle -Causeway. They occupy the centre of a semi-circular bay, formed by lofty -cliffs, which let you see under a thin covering of clay and grass other -rows of basaltic columns that show their profile, and have been called -“the Organ.” On the right the bay is limited by a jutting rock, above -which tower two or three needles—“the Chimneypots.” A local tradition -relates that the Invincible Armada, driven against the cliffs by a strong -gale, mistook the needles for the towers of Dunluce, and stormed them -uselessly a whole day long. - -Beyond those basaltic piers a spring of sweet water forms the “Giant’s -Well;” further on a rock, roughly shaped as a church desk, is called -“the Pulpit.” All those sports of nature compose a whole truly unique -and wonderful. Neither the Alps, nor the chain of the Andes, nor Mount -Vesuvius, nor Etna, can give you such an impression of grandeur—are able -to that degree to put you as it were into communion with the mysteries of -labouring Nature. - -What strikes you further about those basaltic formations is that they -are both colossal, like all works directly resulting from the great -cosmic forces, and at the same time almost Greek by the quality and -symmetry of their arrangements. For once the volcanos seem to have had -the whim to work according to the canons of art. It is both human and -super-human—verily a Giant’s Causeway! - -The Giant Fin M’Coul, so the legend says, was the guardian genius of -Ireland. He had for a rival a certain Scotch Giant of mighty conceit and -insolence, whose boast it was that none could beat him. The sea alone, -if that Scotch braggart was to be believed, prevented his coming to let -M’Coul feel the might of his arm, as he was afraid of getting a cold if -he attempted to swim across the Straits. So he remained at home. M’Coul -was riled at last by that swaggering. “Since thou art afraid to get -wet,” he cried to his rival, “I am going to throw a causeway between -Scotland and Ireland, and we shall see then whether thou darest use it!” -The building of the bridge took only a few thousand years, and then the -Scot, having no pretence left, accepted the challenge, was beaten flat, -and obliged to eat humble pie. After which, with true Irish generosity, -the good-natured giant gave him his daughter in marriage, and allowed him -to come and settle near him, which the Scot accepted, nothing loth, Erin -being an infinitely sweeter and generally superior country to his own. -But perhaps, after all, M’Coul found no cause to rejoice over the match -he had arranged for his daughter, as he subsequently allowed the sea to -destroy his work so as to prevent any more Scots from settling in his -dominions. Only some of its piles remain standing, one of which is the -Isle of Rathlin, half-way across the Straits. - -The legend, as you see, is not so foolish. It answers at all points -to geological data, and even to historic truth, viz., the invasion of -Ulster by the Scots. But, let its origin be what it may, the fact remains -that the Giant’s Causeway, with its neighbour, Portnoffen Bay, the most -perfect amphitheatre in the world, with the marvellous colonnade of -the Pleaskin, Dunluce Castle, Dunseverick, and the bridge of rope of -Carrick-a-Rede, thrown over a chasm that measures a hundred feet above -the waters,—constitute one of the grandest, most moving spectacles -that the traveller may see. You can go round the world without having -such extraordinary sights. Add to it that few of the gems of nature -are of so easy an access. From Paris you can be on the coast of Antrim -in twenty hours, by London, Liverpool, and Belfast. Portrush, with its -admirable sea-shore, its electric railway, and stupendous cliffs, is -the ideal frame for a honeymoon excursion. I had resolved to recommend -it to tourists, and to point out the guides of the Causeway to public -execration. Now I have done my duty. - - * * * * * - - BELFAST. - -The capital of Ulster is naturally the most flourishing town of Ireland. -Whereas the others decrease in population and wealth, Belfast is rapidly -thriving. From 20,000 inhabitants, which it numbered at the beginning -of the century, it has risen in eighty years to 210,000. Another ten -years and it will outdo Dublin itself. It is a manufacturing city as -well as a big trading port. By an exception, unique in the island, it -occupies a great number of workers, male and female—60,000, at the -lowest computation—for the most part, in the weaving trade and naval -construction. A single linen factory, that of Messrs. Mulholland, gives -work to 29,000 pairs of hands. It is those weaving looms which utilize -the product of the 110,000 acres of flax fields in Ulster. Out of -nineteen ships of over 300 tons annually built in the docks of the island -eighteen come out of the Belfast wharves. It is, in short, the maritime -gate of Irish import and export—the insular suburb of Liverpool and -Glasgow. - -As a consequence, signs of prosperity are showing themselves everywhere. -The public walks are vast and carefully kept, the houses well built, the -shops substantial and elegant, the educational establishments important -and richly endowed. The town has a thoroughly Anglo-Saxon aspect. London -fashions are scrupulously followed there. If you enter the Botanical -Garden, maintained by voluntary contributions, you find there the -lawn-tennis, the dresses, the ways of the metropolis. If you follow the -road up to Cave Hill, one of the heights on the western side of Belfast, -you embrace a vast landscape, where the flying steamers on the Lagan, the -smoking factory-chimneys, the innumerable and opulent villas round its -shores, all speak of wealth and prosperity. - - * * * * * - -The population is about equally divided between Protestants and -Catholics. The consequence is that party hatred and the struggle for -local influence are far more ardent and long-lived here than in places -where one of the two elements has an overwhelming majority. Electoral -scuffles easily turn to bloody battles; political anniversaries—that of -the Battle of the Boyne, above all—are a pretext for manifestations which -often degenerate into regular battles. - -Belfast is the bulwark of Orangeism; and Orangeism may be described as -Protestant and loyalist fanaticism, as opposed to Catholic and national -fanaticism. Shankhill Road, which is frequently used as a battle-field by -the antagonistic parties, is a long suburb which divides as a frontier -line the Orangeist from the Irish quarters. - -Hardly one pay-day passes without the public-houses of that suburb being -the theatre of some pugilistic feat accomplished by some voluntary -representatives of the opposite camps. If the police happen to rush into -the fray, reinforcements are called from either side; stones, cudgels, -revolvers come to the rescue, and, on the morrow, the jails are filled -with prisoners, and the hospitals with the dead and the wounded. - -Sad to relate, it is the clergy on both sides who incite them to those -fratricidal struggles. There are certain Protestant preachers who are -in no way behindhand in bitterness and virulent abuse with the most -fanatic priest of Roscommon or Mayo. I have heard personally in Falls -Road a Methodist preaching in the open air incite his audience to the -extermination of Papists in strains which the creatures of Cromwell would -not have disowned. - -In order that nothing should be missing to the parallel, Ulster has its -Orangeist League, not unlike the National League of Ireland (save for -the respect of legality and the general moderation of proceedings). -That League is formed into battalions and companies which are privately -drilled, they say, and lose no occasion to make a pageant in the streets -with accompaniment of trumpets and drums, and whose ways remind one of -the Salvation Army. - - * * * * * - -On the whole, Ulster is the only province of Ireland where the Unionist -forces are about equally matched with the party of Home Rule; that is -to say, the former command a majority in Antrim, part of Down, part -of Armagh, part of Derry and Donegal, whilst the Home Rulers have the -stronger array of voters in the remaining parts of the province. Except -in the above-delineated band of north-eastern territory, the result of -the elections is always taken for granted beforehand all over the island, -and is for—Home Rule. But this is not saying that the contest is at all -passionate even in Belfast. I happened to be there on the occasion of the -General Election of 1886, and was most struck by the comparative calm of -the population pending the momentous ballot. I could not help expressing -my surprise, over the mahogany, to my host, a wealthy mill-owner, a -zealous Presbyterian, and an active Orangeist into the bargain, to whom -an English friend had given me a letter of introduction. - -“You wonder at our calm?” he said. “The explanation is very simple. In -Ireland the respective position of parties can hardly be much altered by -the incidents of the struggle. Whether the Home Rulers take one seat from -us or we gain one on them, we shall neither of us be much benefited by -it. It is in Great Britain that the true battle is taking place. Let us -suppose that Mr. Gladstone, instead of finding himself in a minority in -the next Parliament, returns to the House with a majority. This majority -can in no case be very strong, and we may still doubt that it will -consent to follow him to the end in the path he has chosen. But let us go -farther, and suppose Home Rule to have been voted by this majority,—let -us suppose it to have been voted by the Upper House,—a still more -unlikely contingency. Well, our decision is taken irrevocably. We are -perfectly resolved not to bow to such a vote, and not to submit to Home -Rule.” - -“What! shall you rebel against the constitution?” - -“Against the constitution, no. But if needs must be against Mr. Gladstone -and his party. We shall appeal from the ignorant electors to the better -informed ones. We shall protest against a decision that would in a way -deprive us of our rights as British subjects. And in the meanwhile we -shall refuse to acknowledge a Dublin Parliament. We shall refuse to pay -the taxes that it may fix upon, or to obey the laws it may vote. We shall -repeat loudly that we are Englishmen, and will not be anything else; that -we depend on the British Parliament and recognize no other authority; and -we shall see then if our appeal raise no echo in the United Kingdom!” - -“But still, the right of making laws generally entails the power of -enforcing them. What shall you do on the day when the Dublin Parliament, -having voted the taxes for you as for the rest of Ireland, shall send -tax-gatherers to collect them?” - -“_We shall receive them with rifle-shots._” - -“What! are you going to tell me that you, sir, ‘worth’ half a -million sterling, if the public voice speaks the truth, that this -fat gentleman there, the father of those two pretty daughters, that -this respectable doctor in gold spectacles, and all your other guests -to-night, all peace-loving, middle-aged gentlemen, comfortable and -with good rent-rolls, seriously entertain the idea of buckling on your -shooting-gaiters and going to battle in the street?” - -“We shall go, if we are obliged, rather than submit to the Dublin -people!... After all, have we not a right to remain English, if it suits -us?... The very principle of Home Rule, if it is adopted, implies that we -shall govern ourselves as it seems good to us. Well, here in Ulster, we -are nearly two million loyalist Protestants, who cherish the pretension -of not being given over to the three million Papists entrusted with the -making of the Dublin Parliament,—who shall dare to deny this right to us?” - -“Mr. Parnell and his friends will certainly deny it as soon as their -programme is embodied into law. They will say to you, ‘Henceforth Ireland -shall govern herself. Let those who do not like it go away.’” - -“But it is precisely what we shall never do!... Our title to the Irish -soil is as good as the Parnellites’.... Let them try to dislodge us, and -they shall have a warm welcome, I promise you.” - -In the course of conversation my worthy interlocutor had let the number -of 100,000 Orangemen, armed to the teeth and ready to defend Ulster -against the Home Rulers, escape him. I took advantage of this to ask -him for a few details on this organization. I learnt this: that the -Orangeist army is by no means a fallacy, as one might imagine, and that -it forms a sort of latent militia, with its active forces, and its -reserve. At first, established as a kind of freemasonry, and formed in -“circles” or “lodges,” it comprises actually four divisions, subdivided -into twenty-two brigades: each of these brigades consists of two or -three regiments, infantry, cavalry, and artillery; in each regiment are -sections and companies, each composed of affiliates belonging to the same -district. Three divisions are recruited in Ulster proper; the fourth in -Dublin and Cork, in Wicklow and in King’s County. All those affiliates -take the engagement to observe passive obedience and to render personal -service on the first requisition of their supreme council; they furnish -their own arms and recognise the authority of a commander-in-chief. - -Does all this have any substantial existence besides what it has on -paper? Do the Orangemen secretly drill, as it is averred, both for the -infantry and the cavalry manœuvres? Is it true that most of the volunteer -companies in Ulster are exclusively Orange companies? Lastly, are those -volunteers really ready in case of an open rupture with Dublin, to -take up their arms and fight for their cause?... Many people think it -doubtful. The Home Rulers especially think it pure moonshine and humbug. -I remember one of their papers publishing the following advertisement -last year to show in what esteem they held the Ulster army: - - ROTTEN EGGS! ROTTEN EGGS! ROTTEN EGGS! - - _Wanted: 100,000 rotten eggs, to be delivered in Tipperary, - worthily to welcome 20,000 Orangemen, armed with rifles and - guns, under command of the illustrious Johnson. Offers to be - addressed to the printing office of this paper._ - -This certainly does not indicate a very exalted idea of the valour of the -Orangeist forces on the part of the southern populations. But that does -not mean that no other sugar plums shall be exchanged. In all civil wars -such pleasantries take place, yet they do not prevent rivers of blood -being shed. One fact alone is beyond doubt, that the Orange organization -has immense ramifications among the regular troops, and is openly -favoured by General Wolseley; that a large number of retired officers -have entered it; that one would perhaps find it difficult to find one -among the Queen’s regiments ready to fire on the loyalists, and that -the most ardent partisans of Home Rule hesitate to grant to the Irish -Parliament the faculty of raising an armed force. - -In conclusion, the last word in Ulster may very well be said by the -Orangemen. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -LEX LICINIA. - - -It would have been pleasant to conclude these pages without recording -too harsh a judgment against England, one of the two or three nations -for ever dear to the thinker; one of those who possess a brain of her -own, not merely a chain of nervous nodosities presiding over the organic -functions; one of those who lead the Human Race along the hard road -where it toilingly drags its miseries and delusions. It would have been -pleasant at least to find some kind of extenuating circumstances for -the attitude she maintains doggedly towards Ireland. But this is sheer -impossibility. - -All that can be pleaded on behalf of England is that she is truly -unconscious of the wrong she has been doing for centuries, and that -she firmly believes herself to have acted within her rights. Nations, -still more than individuals, are the slaves of their temperament, of -their faults and their qualities. Shall we call the tiger a murderer, -or reproach vultures because they feed on human flesh? They obey their -instincts, and merely follow the dictates of nature. So it is with -nations. Considered no longer in the individuals that compose it, or in -the intellectual _élite_ that speaks in its name, but in the fifteen or -twenty generations that have woven the woof of its annals, a people is an -irresponsible and blind organism, fatefully obeying its impulses, be they -noble or base. - -Try to talk with a Protestant landlord about the wrongs and grievances of -Ireland. He will tell you in all good faith that the Irish alone are to -blame. Ignorant, slothful, given to drink, sly and cunning, a nation of -liars,—weak, in a word, and vanquished beforehand,—this is the verdict he -pronounces on them from the height of his respectable rent-roll. If they -have failed in the struggle for life, it is because they came into it -badly armed and unprepared. So much the worse for them,—let them make way -for the stronger ones! Such is the theory. - -There can be no doubt that it is put forward in all sincerity by a -majority of Englishmen. But this does not prove that it rests on any -sound foundation. It only proves once more that they are incapable of -understanding anything about the Irish temperament.[4] This reasoning -is merely the classic sophistry. They mistake the effect for the cause, -and are blind to the fact that those vices they so bitterly reproach -the Irish with, are the inevitable result of three centuries of bad -administration and England’s own work. Wherever it has been liberated -from the English yoke, has not, on the contrary, the Irish race displayed -abundant energy, activity, genius? Do not the Irish hold the first rank -in the United States, in Canada, in Southern America, in Australia, -wherever emigration has carried them. In England even are they not at -the head of all liberal professions, letters, the daily press, the bar, -science? Those who have seen and closely studied that nation, crushed -under its secular burden, ground under the heel of the conqueror, cannot -but feel surprised at the bare fact that it survives; and this fact -alone presupposes the most admirable gifts. One could even question -whether, deprived of the Irish Celt element, for leaven, for chiefs, for -counsellors, in letters, and in assemblies, the heavy Anglo-Saxon race -could ever have founded its flourishing colonies. These prosper, one may -say, in direct proportion to the number of Irish that come to them, even -as the mother island slowly decays in direct proportion to the number of -her children that are driven from her shores. - -Why should such slanderous explanations be sought for a fact sufficiently -explained by history? The great misfortune of Ireland is not to be a -nation less richly gifted than its conqueror, but only to be too small a -nation, established in an open island. The Irish have been neither more -vicious, nor more fanatical, nor more slothful than the English; they -have been less numerous, less well armed; and John Bull, according to his -deplorable custom, has taken advantage of their weakness for bullying -them, for levying heavy toll on them, for bleeding them to death without -mercy. He has taken their land, their freedom, their industry, and still -wrests from them the product of their labour. And, to crown all, he dares -to call them to account for their misery as for a crime—this misery, -which is his own work, with all its wretched following of vices and -degradation. - -Before such a sight as this involuntary indignation must be felt. One -wishes to say to the English— - -“You pirates, begin first by giving back to Ireland all you have taken -from her, and you shall see then if she be guilty of this poverty you -consider as a crime! Let us reckon. Give her back her land, which -your nobles occupy. Give her back the bravest of her sons, that you -have driven to emigration. Give her back the habit of work which you -have destroyed in her. Give her back the wealth which you prevented -her accumulating, by forbidding her commerce and industry. Give her -back the millions which you still exact every year upon the produce of -her agricultural energy. Give her back the experience of freedom that -you have so long crushed in her. Give her back the faculty of coolly -reasoning about her beliefs, which persecution took from her. Give her -back the right of self-government according to her genius, her manners, -her will, that right which you declare sacred and imprescriptible for -every nation, that you grant to your most insignificant colonies, to the -meanest island of your Empire, and which you refuse to her, the biggest -of all. Give her back all this, and let us see then if Ireland be all you -say.” - -“Alas! from that national inheritance of which you robbed her one can -only find now, recognise and therefore give back, the land and the money. -The land stands always there; and money is not wanting in your coffers. -A good impulse, then! All has to be paid for in this world—defeat and -failure like anything else. If one lose a game, one must know how to -pay for it gallantly. If one has, personally, or in the person of one’s -father, committed an unjust act, one must know how to atone for it. -Your railway companies give indemnities to the families of those they -have crushed to death. Yourselves, as a nation, have paid in the Alabama -affair, once convinced of being in the wrong. Here also, in Ireland, -the hour of Justice has come. Evidence is over. Your work rises in your -throat and sickens you. You cannot any longer doubt, and your writers -daily repeat it, that the cause of all Ireland’s sufferings is in your -spoliation, complicated by your administration. Well, the remedy is -clear. Ireland herself points it out to you, and your conscience whispers -it: you must give back her inheritance to Ireland, with the right of -administering it according to her own lights.” - - * * * * * - -England is fond of comparing herself to Rome, though it is Carthage -rather that she resembles. She can find in Roman history a precedent for -the solution that is obviously suited to Ireland. The _Lex Licinia_, -promulgated in the year 376 before the Christian era, limited to 500 -arpents, that is to say, almost exactly 500 acres, the extent of land -that the patricians were entitled to possess in a conquered country. -This was the law that the Gracchi wanted to bring to life again, and for -which they paid the penalty of death. It has long been believed, and -Mably repeated it with Montesquieu, that the question was the dividing -of private property between all the citizens. Niebuhr and Savigny have -re-established historical truth, and shown that the question at issue -was merely the limitation of, or atonement for, usurpations that ruined -the State by ruining the rural populations. It is a Licinian Law that is -wanted in Ireland, and it is to be hoped that England will give it to her -before long. - -The disease of Ireland may be defined: the feudal system or landlordism, -complicated by absenteeism and usury, having for its consequences extreme -penury of capital, rural pauperism, and the incapacity for struggling -against American competition. - -The case of Ireland, more acute by reason of its special sphere, is only -a striking instance of a fact that the legislators of the old world must -necessarily take into account henceforth, the fact that the immense area -of land newly cleared in the two Americas, in Australia, and India, -are, four-fifths of them at least, the property of those that cultivate -them personally. They have no other burden to bear than taxes, and are -therefore in a condition of crushing superiority in the struggle with the -countries in which dual ownership obtains. With an equal fruitfulness -(and that of virgin soil is almost always greater), it is clear that -the soil which supports only those that cultivate it, instead of two or -three superposed classes of participants in its products, must always be -able to give those products at a lesser cost price, and therefore will -be able to throw them on the market at a lower rate. It is not merely -common sense, it is the immutable course of human progress that condemns -landlordism to disappear ere long from the face of the globe. - - * * * * * - -Reduced to its elementary terms, the Irish question stands thus: 12,000 -landowners, of foreign origin, possessing almost the whole of the -island; 1940 of these proprietors detaining two-thirds of this soil; 744 -holding the half of it. All these lands parcelled out into insufficient -holdings, and cultivated by 720,000 native farmers, for the most part -entirely devoid of capital. The agricultural product of the island, -divided between two schedules on the official rolls of the income tax: -the first one of £2,691,788 only, representing the income of the -720,000 Irish farmers and their families; the second, of £13,192,758, -representing the income of the 12,000 English landlords. The half at -least of this sum leaving the island every year, and being spent outside -it by the _absentee_ landlords. Not one farthing of this lordly income -coming back to the soil, either directly or indirectly, in the shape of -manure, buildings, or agricultural improvements; nor to industry, which -is nil. General pauperism, resulting from the feudal organization that -stops development of wealth in its germ, and more and more unfits the -country for a struggle with the more normally organized nations. Unpaid -rents, landlords and tenants eaten up by usurers, a permanent conflict of -interests shown at each term by three or four thousand evictions, without -mentioning the still more numerous cases in which eviction is not carried -out because it would prove useless. A universal bankruptcy; a chronic -state of social war; a growing contempt of the law; agrarian violence; -the suspension of public liberties; a gradual return of the soil and -its inhabitants to the savage condition; a constant augmentation in the -area of uncultivated land; a regular emigration of the adult and able -population; a quarter of the remaining inhabitants living at the expense -of the ratepayers, either on outdoor relief or in the workhouses; -financial grievances, added to historical and political grievances; -hunger sharpening the rancour of the vanquished race; its hatred of the -conqueror shown periodically by the return to the House of Commons of -85 members whose only mandate is to obstruct the regular working of the -British machinery. Such is the epitome of the results obtained in Ireland -by the English after an occupation of seven centuries. Never did history -register such a scandalous failure. - -Vainly do Oxford and Cambridge, in order to explain or palliate it, -resort to all their scholastic sophistry. Vainly it is endeavoured -to discover its cause in some inherent vice of the Irish race, in -their ignorance, their religion, their laziness, and even a sort of -“melancholy” imparted to them, it is alleged, by the neighbourhood of the -ocean (_sic_). - -Ireland is not the only country edged by the Atlantic: neither is it -the saddest. Her children are not in any marked degree more illiterate -now-a-days than those of England, and if they were so for a long -time—when they had to slip off to unlawful and clandestine “hedge -schools” if they wanted to learn their alphabet—we know too well who was -responsible for such an outrage on civilization. The Celts of Erin are -Roman Catholics, it is true, but after all there are on our planet a -certain number of nations who have not died yet of this religion. As for -their political capacity, they vindicate it every day by the wisdom and -firmness they display in sustaining the struggle against the oppressor. - -One must bow to evidence and do justice to Ireland. And for this there -are not two formulas. There is only one, in two articles: - -1.—Expropriation of the landlords with a fair indemnity, to the profit of -the Irish tenantry. - -2.—The extension to Ireland of Home Rule, which is the invariable rule -of all British possessions, near or far, guaranteed of course by all the -precautions judged necessary for the security and unity of the United -Kingdom. - - * * * * * - -It is the glory of Mr. Gladstone to have understood and to have had the -moral courage to declare that there is no other solution. And as we -think of this, is it not a strong argument in favour of the superior -justice of agrarian revendications in Ireland, that it should have -imposed itself to the reason of that illustrious politician, the most -English assuredly of all the statesmen that have succeeded each other -in office since the time of William Pitt? Those common reasoners who -rebel against a necessary restitution, should think of this. Here is an -old man seventy-eight years of age, who, ever since he left Eton, had no -other care, no other occupation than the affairs of his country; the most -energetic, the most active and brilliant of leaders, the most experienced -in finance; of all the orators in the British Parliament the most lucid -and pungent; a refined scholar, an accomplished Hellenist, the possessor -of an hereditary fortune that frees him from domestic cares, the son -of a British merchant-prince, and the father of an Anglican clergyman, -himself Protestant to the core, and fond of officiating in the place of -his son in the church of Hawarden; a man whose predominant quality is -his earnestness, and whose supreme rule of conduct is a well-regulated -love of his country. This statesman, who has been ten times in office -since the year, already so far from us, when he entered it under the -leadership of Robert Peel, and who knows everything about the affairs -of his country at home and abroad, has made his life-study of the Irish -question. Twenty times in forty years has he attempted to grapple with -it, to unravel it, to solve it. All the remedial measures that have -been applied to the wounds of Ireland since 1860 had him for their -initiator. He was the first to realize the odious wrong of an established -Anglican Church in that Catholic country. To him is due the political -and intellectual enfranchisement of the Irish; it was he who gave them -national schools and who put them (by dint of what Titanic struggles!) -on the same electoral footing as the other British subjects. It was he -who promoted, defended, and succeeded in passing all the Land Bills meant -to soften the wretched fate of the Irish serf. Lastly, one must not -forget it, he never hesitated, when he thought it necessary, to claim -laws of repression against agrarian violence. Mr. Gladstone is assuredly -no anarchist. He is neither a madman nor is he in his dotage. Never was -his genius clearer, his word more eloquent. Add to this that this man, -enamoured of power like all those who have passed their life in it, knew -that he was courting a certain fall when he proposed his solution of the -Irish question, and could entertain no doubt of the schism that would -take place in his party on the subject.... - -And yet his conscience could oppose no resistance to the blinding light -of facts. He clearly saw that palliatives were insufficient, and that -there was an urgent need to take the evil at its root. As a conclusion to -half a century spent in studying the case, and to twenty local attempts -at healing it, after two or three thousand nights spent in the House -of Commons in discussing the question under all its aspects, he comes -forward to say: “_Justice to Ireland!_ we must give back to her what was -taken from her—her inheritance and her freedom!” - -Can one suppose for a moment that Mr. Gladstone came to such a conclusion -without the most decisive and powerful motives? Can anyone feel himself -strong enough to hold opinions better founded than his on this matter? We -must congratulate his adversaries on their happy self-confidence; but we -cannot do so on their moral sense or on their modesty. - - -I.—MR. GLADSTONE’S SCHEME. - -Mr. Gladstone’s scheme was framed in two organic Bills. By the first the -British Government undertook to expropriate the landlords, and to redeem -the Irish lands on a basis of twenty times the actual rent, to be paid -in English Consols, at par. These lands would then be sold to the Irish -tenants at a discount of 20 per cent., payable in forty-nine years by -instalments equal to about half the former rent. The second Bill provided -for the local government of Ireland, while it reserved for Great Britain -the general control of the revenue and the right of keeping military -forces in the island. Thanks to a coalition of a fraction of the Liberal -party with the Tories, this programme fell to the ground at the General -Election of 1886, and was set aside by Parliament. - -It may be that the loss is not much to be regretted. Very likely Mr. -Gladstone’s scheme was, in his own thoughts, only meant as a trial, what -we call a _ballon d’essai_. Excellent in its twofold principle, his -solution had the very serious drawback of substituting, in the place -of the 12,000 present landlords of Ireland—a single one, the State. -It looked as if it solved all difficulties, and perhaps it would have -caused fresh complications. In fact, it amounted to requiring that the -unavoidable liquidation should be paid—by which people? By those who -could least afford it—the Irish tenants. Whence might the poor devils -have taken the money for their annuities? And even admitting that they -could have found it, can one refuse to see that their culture, so -wretched already, would have become still poorer? Has ever man chosen, to -buy an estate, the moment when he is a confirmed bankrupt? - -But it would have been to them a nett gain of one-half on their actual -rent, it will be objected. - -A nett gain of one-half _on nothing_, then, as they cannot afford to pay -any rent just now, unless they deduct it from their capital (supposing -that they have any), and there is no reason to suppose that things will -be better for the next fifty years. - -Besides, if you admit that by paying for forty-nine years half the actual -rent as judicially fixed, the Irish tenants ought to have the ownership -of the land, why, in the name of all that is fair, refuse to see that -they have paid it more than ten times already, in the shape of excessive -rent? - -“They were free not to pay it and go out, with their goods and chattels,” -says my old friend, the Economist. I answer: No. They were not, for a -thousand reasons, and had to obey the will of the vampires, as long as it -was strictly possible. - -Either the tenants, having become proprietors in name but not in reality -(or, as it were, proprietors of a shadow of land mortgaged for half a -century), would have paid their annuity,—and in that case they were as -poor as before; or they would not have paid it, and then the Liberal -party would have heard a fine din! - -In fact the Gladstone plan rested on an entirely chimerical hope: that of -settling the Irish question without its costing a penny to the British -Exchequer. To entertain such a hope is clearly to prove that one sees -indeed the evil, but without descrying its deeper cause. - -This cause lies in the IMPOSSIBILITY to the modern tenants, in the face -of the competition of better organized countries, and generally under the -present conditions of the world’s agriculture, TO PAY ANY RENT WHATEVER. - -The Irish tenant is a bankrupt, because he has paid, for too long a time -already, the rent that he could not afford. The land is impoverished for -the very same reason. Now, to sell it to a penniless buyer is absurd -enough; but to pretend to believe that the penniless buyer shall render -it prosperous and make it yield riches, is perhaps more absurd still. - -Such illusions ought to be discarded. If England really wants to settle -the Irish question, as her honour and her true interest both command her -to do, she must manfully accept the idea of a pecuniary sacrifice and a -real restitution. It would be useless to cheat herself into acceptance of -half-measures. She had much better weigh the real cost of an imperious -duty, pay it, and square matters once for all. - -Not only must she give, _gratuitously give away_ as a present, the land -to the Irish tenant, but she must provide him, at the lowest rate of -interest, with the capital necessary for putting that land in working -order. - -This consummation might perhaps be attained at a lesser cost than would -at first sight appear possible,—let us name a figure,—at a cost of one -milliard francs, or £40,000,000. But this milliard should be forthcoming -in cash, presented by the British nation to the sister isle as a free -gift, a premium paid for peace, or rather a lump sum of conscience-money, -such as we see sometimes advertised in the columns of the _Times_. - - -II.—AN OUTSIDER’S SUGGESTION. - -The ideal solution for the innumerable difficulties of the Irish question -would evidently be the _tabula rasa_,—the hypothesis that would transform -Ireland into a newly-discovered island of virgin soil, barren and -uninhabited, where England had just planted her flag, and out of which -she wished to get the fullest value in the shortest possible time. - -What would her policy be in such a case? She would begin by surveying -the whole extent of her new acquisition, by parcelling it out in lots -carefully, then by calling in colonists and capital. - -To the immigrants that came without any other wealth than their stalwart -arms, she would make gratuitous concessions of small lots of land, -accompanied by seeds, agricultural implements, and an exemption from -taxes during a limited period of time. To those who came with capital, -she would give more important plots of ground, either demanding a premium -of occupation more or less high, shortening the period of exemption for -taxes, or again elevating the rate of those taxes. Most likely, too, -she would favour the establishment of an Agricultural Bank that would -advance to the new colonists such moneys as they desired, according to -their wants, their chances of success, and the individual securities they -presented. - -In reality it cannot be supposed that in Ireland the past, the vested -interests and the settled habits of centuries, can be erased. But at -least one can try to come near to this ideal; and besides, this island -presents, over the barren and uncultivated one, the advantage of having -a ready-made population; the country, its climate, its soil, are known; -there is a large proportion of able workmen, valuable house property, -no inconsiderable provision in agricultural implements, not to mention -several thousand head of horse, oxen, sheep, and pigs ready imported. - -The advantages of this over a virgin island are, therefore, very clear; -they are visibly stronger than the drawbacks, and success is certain if -measures of the kind we allude to are vigorously carried out. - -England, then, must begin by buying out, not only the properties of the -landlords, but also, and this is only justice, the interest that a large -number of farmers possess in those lands under the name of tenant-right. -The area of cultivated land in Ireland (exclusive of towns) is, in round -numbers, fifteen million acres. Before all, the basis of indemnity -granted to the landlords must be fixed. - -Mr. Gladstone proposed the basis of twenty times the actual rent, as -judicially fixed. This seems an exorbitant price, for various reasons. -The first reason is that no leased land under the sun normally yields -to its owner, at present, anything like the interest supposed by such a -valuation. The second reason is that the landlords’ property in Ireland -has actually no real value whatever; it could not find a purchaser, -probably, at the price of three times the nominal rent, were it put up -for sale (let anyone who commands capital, and who looks for a secure -investment, consider whether he would ever dream of buying Irish land, -just now, at any price). The third reason is that the true responsibility -of the Irish disease rests with those very landlords who never did -their duty by the country. Granted that their faults (one would rather -say crimes) ought to be covered by the benefit of prescription, and -that a fair indemnity ought to be given them or their creditors if -they are dispossessed by measures of public sanitation, it would look -ridiculous,—indecent to go to the length of rewarding them for their -moral and economical failure by a disproportionate indemnity taken out of -the pocket of the British taxpayer. - -When one hears, therefore, Mr. Gladstone speak of giving the landlords -twenty times the nominal rent of their land, one is reduced to admit -that his idea was to bribe them into acquiescence to his scheme by an -exorbitant premium. The Irish landlords did not understand their true -interest; they did not see that they should have thrown into the scale -the weight of their votes. Very likely they were wrong. They may say -good-bye to the Gladstone indemnity; they will never see it again. For -the longer they wait to settle this question, the more must farm-rent -dwindle away and indemnity shrink to nothingness. - -It seems that, at present, in fixing it on the basis of twelve times the -judicial rent, the British nation would show great liberality. It would -be equivalent to saying that Irish land, as an investment, is worth -one-third the capital in English Consols that bears the same interest, -which is certainly paying it an unexpected compliment. - -As for the tenant-right of the farmer, which it is equally indispensable -to redeem if all is to be cleared and there are to be no more conflicts -of interests, let us admit that it is worth, on the whole, three or -four times the judicial rent. Very likely again this is excessive. But -this matters little practically, as will be shown further on. We find -thus, for the aggregate interest vested in the Irish soil and subject to -indemnity, a common rate of sixteen times the judicial rent. - -The average of this judicial rent is ten shillings per acre. For fifteen -millions of cultivated acres to be redeemed, this would therefore give a -total sum of 120 millions sterling to be paid. Thanks to this indemnity -of expropriation, the English nation would become absolutely free to -dispose of these lands as she pleased. - -But where are those 120 million pounds to be found? and they must be -found over and above the capital necessary for the working of these -lands, since we admitted in principle that it would be necessary to find -it in most cases. This is the way: - -As a first outlay, we have admitted that the British Exchequer would put -down £40,000,000 sterling in the shape of Consols at par. That capital -represents an interest of about one million sterling and a quarter, or -an annual tax of about ninepence per head. This certainly would not be -a high price to pay for such a precious advantage as the suppression of -the Irish plague. There is no decade in which a great nation does not pay -more for some unlucky and useless venture—the Afghanistan campaign, as a -case in point. - -To these 40 millions sterling, sacrificed by the wealthiest of European -nations to its internal peace, shall be added the resources proper to -Ireland. These are no despicable ones. Ireland, taxed much lower than -Great Britain, nevertheless contributes no less than eight millions -sterling, in round numbers, to the general revenue of the United Kingdom. - -Of these £8,000,000 about £4,286,519 go to the keeping of the army -of occupation and the administration of finances; in other words, to -the services meant to remain “imperial” in the hypothesis of Home -Rule. About £3,744,462 are paid for the services that would, in this -hypothesis, come into the province of the Irish Parliament, viz., public -works, law courts, tax-gathering, local administration, registrations, -land-surveying, lunatic asylums, schools, prisons, and the like. It seems -that a new and poor country, as we suppose Ireland to turn out, ought -not to pay for such services as liberally as does wealthy England, and -that a reduction of a third on these heads, or £1,250,000, is perfectly -feasible. That is about the income for £40,000,000 in English Consols. -Here, then, we have sufficient provision for a second milliard in the -shape of _interest_. - -The interest for the third milliard would easily be raised in the shape -of additional taxes, if Irish agriculture were freed from any other -charges. That would only increase the annual taxation by about a sixth -part, and would not even then put it on a level with the incidence -of English taxation. Ireland, on her side, might well do this slight -sacrifice to the cause of social and political peace. - -There, then, we have the £120,000,000 wanted (in the shape of a special -loan, emitted and guaranteed by England), which are found—a third by each -of the high contracting parties; a third by a reduction of 33 per cent. -on all services that would have become purely Irish. - -How ought this magnificent lump of money to be used to make it bear -all it can? By lodging the whole in the coffers of a special _Bank of -Liquidation_, that would be entrusted with all the operation. This bank, -strong in her guaranteed capital of £120,000,000, invested, if necessary, -with the power of emitting special paper-money, begins by paying all the -lands on the basis fixed upon by law. This implies only, at the most, an -outlay of £90,000,000. These lands the bank divides into three classes. - -_Class A._—The fee simple of the first class, composed of the holdings -under £10 a year, is simply transferred to their actual holders (as would -be done in an infant colony in order to attract inhabitants), subject to -the single proviso that these lands shall be cultivated after a given -system, and according to certain rules, and taken back by the public -domain, if this condition be not observed. - -Let us remark, in passing, that this free gift will, in the majority of -cases, be only the legalization of a _de facto_ gratuitous occupation, -most of these small tenants having, for the last three or four years, -stopped paying any rent to the landlords. - -Where, in that case, will be their advantage? it might be asked. They -will be no richer for having become landowners in point of law, as they -are now in fact. - -This is a material error, as shown by the example of our peasant -proprietors in France. One of the chief reasons that prevent the small -Irish tenant endeavouring to get all he can out of his land is precisely -the rooted wish in his mind not to work for the benefit of the landlord. -From the day that he shall be certain of keeping the entire fruit of -his labour to himself, he will emulate the French Celt; he will submit -himself to the hardest privations and the most unremitting toil; he will -abundantly manure his land, ceaselessly tend it, turn it again and again; -he will make it yield all it can. Anyhow, if he does not, he will have -only himself to blame for it. - -_Class B._—The second class of land, composed of holdings from 15 to 20 -acres and over, is sold to its actual holders for the price of their -tenant right, if they be willing to accept this privilege. In the -contrary case, the tenant right is paid down to them at the rate fixed -upon by experts, and the fee simple is put up for sale by auction. The -ultimate proprietors of these domains of average extent receive, by the -hands of the local agents for the _Bank of Liquidation_, every facility -to form themselves into unions for the collective culture of their land. -They remain, however, free to cultivate it themselves and in their own -fashion. - -_Class C._—The third portion of the soil, formed by the choicest land, -shall be put aside in each district to form a great domain where -experiments shall be tried and examples given in agriculture—a domain -managed by official agronomists, and cultivated by associations of -agricultural labourers, salaried partly in kind on the product of the -land, partly by participation in the nett profits. Not only shall there -be introduced on those great domains, together with the finest breeds of -cattle, the most perfect and scientific modes of culture, but, besides, -public demonstrations and lectures shall be made, agricultural pupils -shall be formed, and seeds of first quality shall be given at cost -price. These model-farms alone remain the property of the State, and are -inalienable. - -Thus would be constituted at once, together with a class of peasant -proprietors, the middle and great cultures which are equally wanting in -Ireland. - -Special laws abolish entail in the island, submit to expropriation (for -25 years at least) any owner non-resident on his property, and forbid, -under pain of heavy fines, to hold or give on lease any parcel of land -under 12 acres. - -Other laws, imitated from the _Homestead Exemption_ of the United States, -protect the peasant against debt. The _Liquidation Bank_, after having -set the new system in motion, secures its working by advancing at the -lowest rate of interest the capital wanted by the small and middling -landowners, which must before long kill usury and drive it from the -country. This bank is, in every sense, the organ and focus of a fiduciary -circulation that is amply sufficient, on this broad basis, for all the -financial wants of agricultural industry. - -Thus, the whole revenue of the land remaining in the country, circulating -freely, and incessantly undergoing its normal transformations, health -returns by degrees to the social body. There is no longer any question -of “unemployed” labourers; on the contrary, it is rather hands that are -wanted on all those flourishing estates which have day-work to offer, not -only to the owners of small holdings, but even to the unemployed of Great -Britain. - -And so England begins rapidly, though indirectly, to recover her advance, -owing to the quick increase in the returns of the Income Tax; in perhaps -four or five years, that increase covers the interest of her £40,000,000. -It comes to say that her real outlay turns out to be only a tenth or -a twelfth part of that advance. Emigration suddenly receives a check. -Nay, a new, liberated, prosperous Ireland sees her children flock back -to her shores from abroad, enriched and reconciled, bringing home their -capital with their experience. For the Irishman ever keeps in his heart -unimpaired the love of his mother country, and will return to her as soon -as he can. - -Let us carry our hypothesis further. - -At the same time when she gave up the responsibilities of the -local government of Ireland, England has transmitted them to the -representatives of the Irish nation. - -Are those representatives to form immediately a single Parliament sitting -at Dublin, or are they for the present to be divided into four provincial -assemblies for Leinster, Munster, Connaught, and Ulster? This question -is of small importance, at least at the beginning. Let the first step -be taken; an united Ireland will only be a matter of time. The best -way in such cases is to follow the expressed wish of the populations; -and supposing that Ulster, or at least a part of Ulster, vote for the -continuation of the present _régime_, why should not those territories be -excepted from the new arrangements, and either be left _in statu quo_ or -joined politically to Scotland, of which they are a geological as well -as an ethnical dependency? But I cannot help thinking that if the above -system was submitted to the Antrim tenants themselves, they would not be -backward to see its advantages. - -On the whole question the last word should remain to the voter. If a -majority of the electors of Scottish Ireland spoke in favour of Home -Rule, what could be objected to them? That they will eventually be -oppressed by the Catholics? No great fear of that, I should think; and -besides, efficient measures could be taken, guarantees found against -that danger; but no such caution will be really wanted. The influence of -the Catholic clergy in Ireland has for its principal basis the political -state of the country. The day when difficulties are cleared up, national -education will soon have put an end to the reign of clericalism in -Ireland as elsewhere. - -One cannot help feeling firmly convinced that Mr. Gladstone’s formula, -“Home Rule and Abolition of Landlordism,” taken in its most general -meaning, and applied with a spirit both prudent and liberal, will suffice -to heal in a few years the disease of Ireland. Public wealth will rise by -degrees, feelings of hatred will die away, the rapidity of the cure will -take the world by surprise. Has not already the adoption of the Irish -programme by a large number of Englishmen belonging to the Liberal party -been sufficient to bring about a partial reconciliation between the two -countries? We have seen Irish orators come and preach the Liberal gospel -in England, and reciprocally, English orators go and bring the word -of peace to Ireland. That alone is an augury of success, a symptom of -healing and pacification. - - * * * * * - -Will it be objected that this is a Utopian picture, an unpractical -scheme, or simply one of difficult execution? As for me, the more I look -into the matter, the more settled grows my belief that three things only -are requisite for substituting so much good for so much evil, viz., -money, steadiness of purpose and conscience. Nobody will say that the -English have ever shown a lack of steadiness in the pursuit of success; -money they have in abundance; will they be wanting in conscience? This is -scarcely to be feared. Conscientiousness of a more or less enlightened -kind is a characteristic of the Englishman, and it is his highest praise. -Men are constantly to be met in England who rule their conduct on the -principles of an inward law. It is true that, by a natural consequence, -many are good only in name, and their display of conscience is only a -sham; but as our great moralist has said, “Hypocrisy is a homage which -vice renders to virtue,” and wherever vice is obliged to wear a mask, -virtue is bound to conquer. - -A great transformation, the instruments of which are the press, the -steam-engine, and the telegraph, has been slowly developing throughout -the world during the last few years: a new and powerful influence has -been born that might be named “obligatory justice through publicity.” -Tennyson has spoken of “the fierce light that beats upon a throne;” -thrones now-a-days scarcely exist except in name; the will of the people -has taken their place. But let Governments call themselves republics or -monarchies, they are equally submitted to that pitiless ray of light -which is the ever-wakeful eye of the press, the uncompromising publicity -which ignores either rank or station. How many examples of it have we -not seen at home! To quote a recent one, take that wretched Schnæbelé -affair. Only fifteen years ago there would have been found in it reasons -ten times sufficient to bring about a war for those who wanted it. Not -so in our days. In less than twenty-four hours the press had brought to -light the most minute details of the affair, exposed the naked truth to -the eyes of the world, photographed the place where the incident had -occurred, submitted, in short, to the great public judge all the evidence -of the case. One had to tender apologies under pain of being called the -aggressor, and the whole affair evaporated into smoke. - -Such results are perhaps the clearest gain that modern progress has given -us. If our age has a superiority over the preceding ages, it is assuredly -to have succeeded in making injustice more difficult to practise. More -and more henceforward will great national crimes become impossible. Mr. -Gladstone’s chief merit will be to have understood it before anybody -in England, and to have been emphatically the man of his time. In spite -of friends and adversaries he has dared to utter the truth, and say: -“We must give back to Ireland what we have taken from her. The good of -England imperiously demands that sacrifice, for we are entering an age -when the honour of a great nation should not even be suspected.” - -He is actually the only statesman in Europe who follows a policy of -principle; the only one seeking the triumph of his opinions by the -sole help of reason. All the others, from the most famous to the most -obscure or passing politician, are only jobbers. Disraeli had too much -of the mountebank about him to have been able to secure the respect -of posterity. Gortschakoff was only a courtier of the old school; -Cavour a clever lawyer; Thiers a dwarf, in a moral and political, as -in a physical, sense. Bismarck profits by a state of affairs which -he did little or nothing to create, and at the most is the belated -representative in our times of fossil feudalism. Gladstone alone is a -truly modern statesman, and therefore is destined to be set by history -above all his contemporaries, if only he succeeds in carrying out -his great enterprise; for the more we go the more nations shall be -restricted to politics of principle, both because all other systems are -exploded, and because the diffusion of learning will be for the future an -almost insuperable obstacle to petty or brutal diplomatic conspiracies. - -Great Britain, it is earnestly to be hoped, will consent to follow -her great leader in the way he has shown to her. She is offered the -most splendid opportunity of doing what no nation has achieved as -yet,—atoning, of her own free will, for centuries of injustice, and -trying one of the noblest social experiments that can ever be attempted. -It would be the beginning of a new era in the history of human societies, -and pure glory for those who initiated it. Not only could such results -be attained at little cost, but the most obvious, the most pressing -interest of England invites her to the enterprise. Let her make haste. -After having affirmed for half a century the sovereignty of peoples, and -their right to govern themselves according to their will, she cannot give -herself the lie at home. After having protested against Bomba and the -Bulgarian atrocities, she cannot in her own dominions remain beneath “the -unspeakable Turk.” After having assumed before the world the attitude of -a systematic foe to slave-trade and all kinds of oppression or cruelty, -after having carried it even to maudlin sensitiveness, as in the case -of pigeon-shooting, “birds’ corpses on women’s hats,” and the like, she -cannot decently carry on the slow destruction of a sister race through -starvation. She cannot and she will not do it, for it would be branding -herself for ever as Queen of Humbug, Empress of Sham. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] Absenteeism, in its present form, seems to date only from Grattan’s -Parliament, but in some shape or another it may be said to date from the -British invasion of Ireland, and to result from the very nature of an -insular kingdom transferred wholesale to the nobility of a neighbouring -state. - -[2] A later instance. On August 30th, 1887, two men armed with guns and -wearing masks entered the house of Mr. R. Blennerhasset, at Kells, near -Cahirciveen; they went upstairs to Mrs. Blennerhasset’s room and demanded -money, which they got to the amount of about £2. - -[3] My guide was quite right. In a statistical table of trials between -July, 1885, and July, 1886, for the County Kerry, I find the following -items: _maiming cattle_, 9; _injury to person_, 7; _murders_, 3; _firing -at persons_, 8; _firing into houses_, 15; _threatening letters_, 125; -_intimidation_, 36; _malicious injury_, 22; _arson_, 19; _assaults_, 22. -The above figures, it should be observed, only relate to outrages brought -home to their authors; there can be no doubt that a much larger number of -agrarian outrages remain unpunished. - -[4] See Appendix, p. 331. - - - - -APPENDIX. - -_EXTRACTS FROM SOME LETTERS ADDRESSED WITHIN THE LAST TWO YEARS TO AN -IRISH LANDLORD BY HIS TENANTS._ - - -The _Times_ has published, on October 10, 1887, an exceedingly -interesting batch of letters selected from some three hundred addressed -within the last two years to an Irish landowner by his tenants. As the -editor of those letters wrote most appropriately, there is perhaps no -means whereby truer insight can be obtained into the ways and habits of -the Irish peasantry than by studying the letters written by the people -themselves. Typically enough, however, the same editor only saw in those -letters how “unbusiness-like and illogical is the Irish tenant,” and -“the various reasons that an Irishman gives for not paying his rent. One -is unable to pay because his uncle is confined to bed, and his daughter -suffering from a sore eye; another because a relative has died; a third -because his brother-in-law has brought an action against him for money -lent, and he has had to pay; one because his family is small, and another -because it is large; another—and this is the most common excuse—because -he has been unable to sell his stock; another because his wife has a sore -hand; another because of the death of a cow; another because the weather -is severe and there is a sheriff’s bailiff obstructing him from making up -the rent; another because it was God’s will to take all the means he had; -another because of the agitation.” - -Reasons which, it may be seen, appear to the English eye entirely -ridiculous and unbusiness-like. - -What strikes a Frenchman most, on the other hand, in the letters, is -their touching simplicity, the appalling instability of a budget that -the least domestic mishap is enough to upset, and the fruitless attempt -of the poor man to penetrate into the real cause of the burden under -which he is panting; in the comments, the utter incapacity of the -British landlord to understand his Irish tenantry even when he is a good -landlord, which is obviously (perhaps too obviously) the case here. - -The letters are thus characteristic in more than one sense. Whatever the -angle under which they are read, they undoubtedly remain first-class -documentary evidence. - - _8th Jany., 1887._ - - To * * * *, Esq. - - SIR,—I received a letter yesterday from Mr. G⸺ who demanded the - payment of £31 0_s._ 6_d._, rent due up to 29 Sept. 1886. I was - in with Mr. G⸺ this day & he told me that he had no further - instructions than what was contained in his note. Now my Uncle - has been confined through illness to his bed since last June, - & my daughter has been under medical treatment since last - September for a sore eye which proceeded from a bad tooth, & I - even had to pay the Dentist ten shillings for extracting it, as - the Doctor could not do so. I trust you will kindly take into - consideration my position and stay proceedings, & I will send - you £18 next Saturday & the remainder about the 13th February, - the day after fair of K⸺. - - Your obedt. Servant - - * * * * - - * * * * * - -The following is also from the same man:— - - SIR,—I would have sent you the remainder of the rent on the day - mentioned but the old man died & I had extra expenses but if - you would kindly wait until about the 25th of March I will be - able to let you have it. - - Your obedient servant - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _9th March, 1887._ - - SIR,—I have yours of the 4th inst. & am very sorry to say - I have met a reverse & cant pay up to my word. I took a - Brother-in-law to live with me—he was a tenant of your - property who lost the power of his limbs & obliged to get into - Hospital, his daughter my niece who I reared went to America - she died there after saving a good deal of money her father - after much trouble got £200 of it & after being 17 years in the - Hospital he had to leave it having means to live & he requested - to come to live with me which I allowed, & being maintained as - one of my family for 12 months up to Wedy. last he now sued me - for £50 which he lent me while here. He is at other lodgings - & subject to evil advice but he fell out with me while here & - since has been most ungrateful. I done my best to get this law - put back but failed & had to pay the money I had made to pay - my rent. I am much grieved being obliged to ask to the middle - of next month to pay it. I wont have any fairs sooner to sell - my stores but I will surly have it about the 20th April if not - sooner. You may be sure only what happened me I would have paid - up to my promise. - - Your obt servt - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _10th March._ - - MR. ⸺. After all I built & what I ow in shops & from the loss - of sheep I am not abell to pay but if you forgive me this half - year’s rent you will save me from destruction, and if so I - will keep it a profound sacred. I promis I will never again - ask anything of you & will be punctual in future, my family - is small & my health not good to go travell. I brought a dale - of money in to this farm 5 years ago and it is all gon now. I - apeal to your kind genariss hart to do this for me & may the - almitey god give your self & your children the Kingdom of hevan. - - I remain most respectfully - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _January 9th._ - - DEAR SIR,—In reply to youre noat I am verrey sorrey that I can - do nothing at the presant it is out of my power I have nothing - to sell unlss I sell what I have to ate my self and seven - littel children. I had but one calf to sell to pay you and it - was the will of provedence to take him, he died. I have but one - cow & I had hur in the fair of N⸺ and all I could get for her - was four pounds, so if you presede with the law as yore lawyer - sayes he will I must sell hur to pay you - - Your humbel tennant - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _August 31._ - - SIR, — I promised the rent after the fair of K⸺ in June. I had - three calves in it & covld not sell. I took three months grass - for them to see could I do better. I intend to have them in D⸺ - on the 12th & if I sell them I will send the rent after that. I - would have wrote only expecting to have the rent before this. - My wife took a sore hand & is in hospital this two months & is - in it still so its poor times with me. - - Your tennant - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _11th March._ - - SIR,—In reply to your letter dated 5th inst. I beg to ask your - honour the favour of a few days grace. I hope to be able to - meet your demands by the time you call to collect your rents in - April. In the meantime I might have an opportunity of setting - the fields in Con acre. - - Being a lone widow with two helpless children one of them of - weak intellect I hope your honour will kindly consider my case. - - I am Sir your Honour’s most obedient & humble servant - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _January 19._ - - SIR,—I received your letter, it is not in my power to make - money for you now as I had to borrow some of your last rent - which is not all paid yeat on account of the death of my fine - cow that died. I will use my best endavours against May. - - Your ob. servt - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _September 26._ - - DEAR SIR,—I make apail to you at the present time that I am - endeavring at this time to make up the rent. Now I would have - it sooner but the weather for the harvest was savere, sore I - could not help it Der Sir, there is a man who is a Sheirf’s - baliff is going to injure me & to obstruct me in making up - the rent for you which I would hope soon to have value for. - Dear Sir I apail to you that you will not allow but Dis allow - injuring a poor tenant who is endeavring to make up the rent. - I would say one thing that I believe he is at least without - maners. I apail to you that you will not allow to obstruct - making out rent as quck as posible. one thing I wonder much - that you would permit him or such as him any place. I will - refrain on that presnt. I will ask this request off Mr. ⸺ as - soon as I can get the rent will he be kind enough to take it - from me. I will ask the favour of you to give return as it may - plaise you. Excuse my hand riting. - - Yours truly - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _August 2nd._ - - MR. ⸺. I received Mr. G⸺’s letter on the 31st of July. I am - sorry I am not able to pay at preasant. I am willing to pay my - rent but it was God’s will to take all the mains I had intended - to meet you. I hope you will be so kind to give time untell - October, as it is so hard to make money - - Your obt. servent - - PAT. F⸺. - - * * * * * - - _Wensdy 19th._ - - * * * * Esq. SIR,—I received your letter & will send you the - rent as soon as I can. There was no price for cattle in the - fairs that is past, in fact the could not be sold atol. I - expect to make the rent in the fair of K⸺. I could always pay - my rent but this cursed agetation has destroyed our country but - I hope the worst of it is over - - I remain Your Obedient Servant - - * * * * - - * * * * * - -The following letters also relate to the payment of rent:— - - _October 10._ - - SIR,—I did not receive your letter ontill this Day. It has - given me a great surprise I hope your Honour will not put me to - cost I have a little best to sell, and after the fair in C⸺, a - thursday I will send it to yo and I hop yo will not put me to - cost. I hop your honour will feel for me - - truly - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - _October 4th._ - - MR. ⸺. SIR,—I was again disappointed in the fair at N⸺ in - selling my cattle and I must ask time of you till I get sale - for if possible I will sell them in the fair of C⸺ do not once - imagine that I am not enclined to pay but I never was offered - a price for my cattle. I was speaking to some of the tenants - and the would wish to see you in N⸺ the rent day as the want to - know what you want for your land - - Yours respectfully, - - * * * * - - * * * * * - - SIR,—I was very sory to see your hon goeing back without the - rient. - - I was willing to pay that day but I could not. I send you my - half-year’s rent £13 10, so I hope your hon will luck after - turf for me there is no ous in asking it of Mr. F⸺ There is to - banks idle on the tients part on F⸺ and Mrs. N⸺ has 30 banks - set this year so I count it very unfare if we doent get one The - old men was geoing to kill us when we did not pay your hon the - day you ware in N⸺ We ware all sory we did not settle that day - - I remane your obdient servant - - * * * * - - rember the tturf. - -The following is in the same handwriting as the last, but signed by -another tenant:— - - DEAR SIR,—You spoke of referring to Mr. F⸺ for turf, we did not - like to intrupeed (query, interrupt) yur hon at that time. Well - sir there is too banks of your own on the tients part an Mrs. - N⸺ is giveing turf to men on the five different estates Every - one that wonted turf got it but two tients no one els wonts it - besids, so I hope your hon will luck to us. I am willing to pay - my way if I get a chance. N⸺ D⸺ has turf this 40 years No one - wants it but P⸺ F⸺ & M⸺ T⸺. We would pay your hon ondly for the - rest - - Believe me Your obedient servent - - M⸺ T⸺. - - do what your hon can about the turf - - * * * * * - - _November 23rd 86._ - - HONOURED SIR,—I got both your letters & replidd to the first - & directed it to D⸺ in which I asked for a little time to pay - the rent I had some young cattle in the fair of K⸺ and did not - sell them. It will greatly oblige me if your Honour will give - me time untill the Christmas fair of F⸺ as I have some pigs to - sell that will meet this rent & that would leave me the cattle - to meet the May rent as the young cattle I have is not fit to - sell at preasant. - - I feel sorry to have to trespass on your Honour, but the times - are bad and it is hard to make money, but I hope we will soon - have better times under the present Government, and that all - those mob laws will soon be at an end. - - I remain your humble servant, - - * * * * - - * * * * * - -It shows a curious state of things when a would-be tenant thinks it -necessary to assure the landlord that he knows the farm belongs to him:— - - _April 12, 1887._ - - To Mr. * * * * - - SIR,—Just a few lines to let your honour know that my father - is very delicate for the past tow months and not expected to - recover. I would like to let your honour know that it was mee - that minded your Property for the last ten years. I know that - this place always belongs to you and that the emprovements cost - no one But your self a shilling. I would like to know how mutch - my father is in your dept. - - I remain your honors faiteful servant, - - JAMES T⸺. - - * * * * * - -The following contain offers of cattle in lieu of rent, a form of payment -which Irish tenants are always anxious to adopt if they can, for though -they declare there will be no difference about the price, they always -expect the landlord to give them considerably more than the market value:— - - _January 18._ - - DEAR SIR,—I am not able to answer you with money at present. I - have the heifer that I told you of and if you wish I will send - her to T⸺ for you, and I expect your honor and I wont differ. - - Your obedient servent, - - PATRICK F⸺Y. - - * * * * * - - _Jany 5th._ - - SIR,—I have 5 nice bullocks to sell if you would buy them. I - have no other way of paying the rent. - - F⸺ D⸺. - - * * * * * - - _October 14th._ - - DEAR SIR and pleas your honour,—I hope in you that you wont - buy all the cattle you want in S⸺ town. Patrick D⸺ has a lot - greasing with the father-in-law at C⸺; he intends to meet your - honour with them. Pleas, Sir, leave room for three Bullocks, I - have them greasing with you above the road all the summer. - - Your faithful servant, - - MICHL. T⸺. - - I am setten some of my children and it has left me bare in - monney. - - * * * * * - - _Novr 12th._ - - DEAR SIR,—I will give three two-year-old Bullicks good owns for - next May rent. I will leave the vallue to your honour when you - come down before Christamas. I was offered £15 pounds for the - three last June; £5 each from Mr. ⸺ the Miller of C⸺. I never - took them out since. I have no father for them. Your honour has - plenty of straw to give them, the will make good Bullocks on - it. Your honour must get them les than vallue - - Your truly faithfull servent, - - * * * * - - -THE END. - -BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IRELAND'S DISEASE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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