IRISH HUSBANDRY--A DESCRIPTION OF LORD LEITRIM--ABOVE AND BELOW THE
SALT--LANDLORD AND TENANT
The valley through which the railway passes from Derry to Omagh is one
long stretch of beauty, fertility and careful tillage. Every field,
whatever its shape, is cultivated up to the fence and into the corners
with a mathematical nicety. The regular fields, the green separating
ditches with their grassy covering, the hills cultivated to the very
tops, and the trees growing here and there all over made a landscape
that should delight the heart of a farmer. Whenever I come to careless
husbandry, I will be sure to record it. I have seen nothing of the kind
yet on mountain side or valley. I do not wish to fling a rose-colored
veil over everything because it is Irish.
The country is simply beautiful--no works can do justice to it. Still
there are some things one could find fault with freely. Between Omagh
and Strabane I took a third-class car. It was dirty, of course, horribly
dirty, but, as Mrs. McClarty said, "the dirt was well dried on," and it
was almost empty, so I entered. At a way station a great crowd, great
compared to the size of the compartment, came surging in. Every man had
a clay pipe, every man had a supply of the most villanous tobacco. I do
not wonder the Government taxes such tobacco, that it has to be sold by
license--some would not grieve if the duty were prohibitory.
Soon matches were struck, a tiny flash and a fusilade of reports like
toy pistols--all matches here go off like that. Every man began to smoke
for dear life, and smoked furiously with great smacks and puffs. And the
floor! when the mud of many days that had hardened and dried there was
moistened again by tobacco juice! Soon the compartment was filled with
smoke, there was literally nothing else to breathe. The car began to
heave about like a ship at sea. Fortunately we stopped at a station and
some on board got out, so that there was an opportunity of getting close
to the door and letting down the glass and a faint was prevented.
It was not pleasant to sit there craning one's neck round to breathe at
the window, for the seats ran lengthways of the carriage, and keeping
all crushed up to keep out of the way of a cross fire of tobacco juice
from the opposite benches. Made a vow there and then against third-class
carriages.
When the train stopped at Strabane was quite dizzy and sick and took
refuge in the first 'bus, which 'bus belonged to that superfine
establishment, the "Abercorn Arms." Was informed that the late Lord
Leitrim had stopped there a day or two before his death on his way to
Manorvaughan. "Stopped in this very room," said my informant. "He left
here on the Sabbath day in his own carriage for Manorvaughan; he had not
much reverence for the day. He was a very old man, walked lame with one
leg, had a fiery face and very white hair. I did think they might have
respected his gray hair. He had not long to live anyway, they might have
spared him." He rested one day at Manorvaughan, the next day he set out
for Milford and was killed.
"Why did they murder him?"
"They said he was a cruel landlord. Yes, a very bad landlord they said
he was. He was very impatient to get away from here that morning. He
little thought he was hurrying to his death."
From Strabane took the Finn Valley Railway, and went off on a voyage of
discovery to Rusky.
From Killiegordon took a first class ticket, as the distance was short,
to see what first-class passengers enjoyed. There is a great difference
indeed between first and third. Third-class is a penny a mile, first is
two pence half-penny; third is simply horrible with filth, first is as
luxurious as carpets, curtains, cushions, spring seats and easy chairs
can make it. There is not nearly so much difference in price, as
difference in style. As a first-class passenger I was assisted in and
out, and the door held open for me; as third or second-class one can get
in or out as they please for all the officials care. There is a very
wide difference in every respect between those above and those below the
line which separates "gentry from commonality." Of course I am using
local words. Gentry are expected to have a well-filled and an open hand.
If they have not both, what business have they to set up for gentry?
Popular opinion thinks of them as Carleton's hedge scholar expressed
himself, "You a gentleman? No, nor one of your breed, seed or generation
ever was, you proctoring thafe you!"
Now the line of demarcation between the people trained by ages to stand
with open hand expecting a gift, and those to whom a gift is an insult
is hard to find sometimes. A young lad, a sharp boy, had been my guide
to two or three places and carried my bag for me. I offered him pay, for
pay had been expected from me by every one with whom I came in contact
from the moment I landed. Tears came into the poor lad's eyes with
mortified anger. One feels bad to hurt anyone's feelings, and between
those who have a desire for a gift and are hurt if they do not get one,
and those to whom offering a gift is the worst form of insult, one is
sometimes puzzled to know what to do.
I find a very strong feeling in some places where I have been in
connection with the contempt which some owners of the soil feel for the
cultivators of it. A landlord--lately an attorney in a country town--
who has succeeded, most unexpectedly, to a great estate, takes no pains
to conceal the contempt in which he holds his tenants. He sauntered into
a shop, also the post-office of the town, and in the course of
conversation informed them that his tenantry were a lazy lot of
blackguards. Two of his tenants were present standing in the shop. He
did not know them, but they knew him. To the eyes of an outsider like
myself the tenants seemed the more gentlemanly of the two parties. This
gentleman, it was explained to me by his tenants, was not a specimen of
the usual landlord, who, whatever the fault of the land law might be
which they believed in and ruled their conduct by, they were gentlemen
who would not degrade themselves by such an utterance.
The idea is brought forward to me again and again that the best landlord
clings to the power to oppress, absolute unquestioned power to do as he
likes with his tenantry though he might never exercise it. The
Protestants of Derry, Donegal, Tyrone, farmers with whom I have had the
opportunity to converse, all refer to this fact. The good landlord
considers it an infringement of his rights as a landlord, to take away a
power he is too kind to use, although he will admit that some have used
it unmercifully.
A recent speech of Lord Lifford's complains that things are now claimed
as a right that used to be regarded as a favor on the part of the
landlords. There is a strong, deep feeling among the best of the tenants
against such utterances as these and the spirit behind them.