The Ashford demesne affords walks or drives for miles. Everything that
woods and waters, nature and art can do to make Ashford delightful has
been done. I got a companion, a pretty girl, a permit from some official
who lived in a cottage at Cong, and set out by way of the Pigeon Hole to
see at least part of the place.
I may as well mention here how surprised we were to hear the Antrim
tongue from the recesses of the cave, and to find a group of strangers
exploring on their own account. They were working men who had come from
Belfast to work for Lord Ardilaun, and were making the most of a holiday
before they began. I was very much surprised to see men from Antrim,
where the wages are much higher than here, come down to work in the west
where labor is so cheap, and want of work the complaint.
To show how cheaply men work here, I may mention that being at a village
which lies outside of Lord Ardilaun's demesne, but on his estate, I was
standing on the road and a clergyman was talking in Irish to a man who
was employed at mason work in repairing the wall, a small quiet looking
man who did not stop work as he talked. Of course I could not understand
more than the scope of their discourse, but I understood distinctly one
question asked; "How much do you get for a day's work?" "One shilling
and two pence a day." "Without food of course?" "Of course." I had
heard in the North that casual laborers get two shillings a day there,
but they do not get two shillings when employed constantly. The laborers
on one well-managed estate which I have been over in Antrim are paid ten
shillings a week, and pay one shilling a week out of that for their
cottages, which are kept in good repair at the expense of their
employer. Of course these men must have been workmen skilled in some
particular work, or they would not have come from the wages of the North
to the West to work at the common rate of wage going here, which I am
told is at the highest seven shillings a week and rent to pay out of
that. Of course, when masons are paid one and twopence, laborers will be
paid much less.
The avenue along which we travelled was a causeway made at great expense
along the brow of a steep hill or rather ridge, one side being supported
by a stone wall. This work, undertaken for the benefit of travellers to
Ashford, must have afforded constant employment for a good many men for
a long time. Arriving at a modern archway in the ancient style protected
by an iron gate, we sought admittance, showing our permit from the
office. The keeper's wife examined it and passed it over to the keeper,
who examined it also, asked some prudent, cautious questions, and we
were admitted to a part of the grounds.
This gate keeper, a remarkably gentlemanly old man, in his respectable
blue broadcloth, his comely sagacious, weather-beaten face, his guarded
manner of speaking, and his name, Grant, made me quite sure that he was
a Highlandman, which he was not, but a Western Irishman. He informed us
as we went along that only part of the grounds could be seen on account
of the troubled state of the country. Whether there was any part of the
demesne that an elderly woman and a pretty girl were likely to run away
with became a subject of thought to me. Conscientiously this delightful
old man kept us off tabooed walks and shunted us into permissible
places. Where all was beautiful and new, and time having a limit, we
were quite willing when brought to order, to follow on the allowed path.
I was admiring a tree of the regally magnificent kind, leaf-draped
branches like green robes sweeping down to the emerald sward, that
always remind me of the glorious trees which sunlight loves to gild in
the grounds at Castle Coole; I remarked on its exceeding beauty to our
guide, who said it would bear a nearer view, and we followed him on a
path through the grass till we stood beside it. Parting the foliage we
found ourselves at a natural grotto of light-colored stone, where a
stream of "the purest of crystal" came from under the rock at one end,
and glancing in the stray beams of sunlight that found their way in
through the arch of leaves, flashed down a tiny cascade in a shower of
diamonds, and with a little gurgling laugh hid under the rock again,
racing on to join the subterranean waters that laugh together over the
failure of the great canal.
The new tower is built after the fashion of the ancient towers with the
spiral staircase, that was common to all castles and abbeys of the west.
The mason work was much coarser and more roughly done, but the imitation
of the ancient tower was very good other ways. I do not believe that
modern masons could produce so perfect a specimen of workmanship as the
tower of Moyne Abbey, with its spiral staircase of black marble. The
view from the top of the tower at Ashford repaid well the expenditure of
breath to climb up to it.
The house is a castle and made after the pattern of ancient castles; it
is large and must contain any amount of lofty and spacious rooms, which
it is to be supposed are furnished as luxuriously and magnificently as
possible. It is certainly a very fine building, and looks as nice and
new as stone and mortar can make it, but the ivy green will soon cover
it all up with its green mantle. We were not able to walk over even the
allowed portion of the grounds, as they extended for miles. We parted
from our gentlemanly conductor at a certain gate. He was so nice that we
felt almost ashamed to offer the expected gratuity which was, however,
thankfully received.
I pondered a little way over the man's remarks who had been our guide
through the demesne. He always kept repeating that we might have been
shown the gardens and the house, but for the disturbance in the country.
I wondered to hear hints of trouble on this estate, for no man, woman or
child, with whom I conversed, but spoke highly of the generosity,
magnanimity and kindliness of Lord Ardilaun, and his father before him.
I have seen in his lordship's own writing and over his signature the
statement that, during prosperous years, even, the rent has not been
raised, that he had for years spent on his property more than double the
rental in improvements and for labor. When I read this I thought of the
causeway raised along the brow of a hill over which I walked in the
demesne, I thought at the time what an amount of labor was expended to
place it there. There has also been made an addition to the castle,
which must have given a great deal of employment. Some, or rather a
great deal of the property was bought from the late Earl of Leitrim, who
had raised the rents, it is asserted, to the "highest top sparkle"
before selling, to enhance the value.
I do not know anything of the value of land here; it is very stony land.
I was pointed out a field which was not very stony, comparatively
speaking, but still had more stones, or stony crust rather, than a good
farmer would desire. I was told it paid L2 per acre. I wonder how it is
possible to raise rent and taxes off these fields, never to mention
support for the farmers. The land requires very stimulating manure to
produce a crop. When bad years come, and render the tenant farmers
unable to purchase guano, the crops are worthless almost. The necessity
of buying artificial manure is a terrible necessity that American
farmers know nothing of.
I dare say the tenants expect too much in many instances, for they are
accustomed to be treated as children in leading strings. The amount of
dependence on this one and that one in superior stations is very
wonderful, but their utter helplessness to take the first step toward
better times is also wonderful. I have heard of men, by the last bad
seasons unable to buy guano, having to strip the roofs off their houses
that the rain may wash off the soot into the land to fructify it. On
account of shelter for game, it is not permissible to cut heather for
bedding, for stock, or covering for houses. Breaking this prohibition
even on land for which they pay rent and taxes is, they complain,
punished with fines of from two and sixpence to seven and sixpence for
as much as could be carried on the back.
For a farmer to get on here he must be able to buy manure. The crop on a
farm has to pay rent, which is high, and taxes, which are heavy, even if
no guard for somebody has to be paid for, or no malicious outrage is
levied for on the county in compensation, and manure, which, if got
before paying, is charged, I am told, twenty-five percent additional for
waiting; all this must be met before the support of the family can be
thought of beyond merely existing. The more one looks at the want of the
people, the more one becomes bewildered with the perplexities of the
situation, and the more hopeless about the setting of things right by
the Land Bill or anything else.
It is pleasant to hear on all sides praises of Lord Ardilaun as a high-
spirited, generous man. The slight difference of opinion between him and
his people is blamed on the fact of his not being able to understand how
poor the tenants are, or how what is little in his eyes may be life or
death to them. There was some trouble, I believe, about the building of
a causeway across to some sacred island, which was built by the people
without leave asked, or in spite of prohibition given; but in the main I
think that Lord Ardilaun is very much loved.
How it does rain in this green land. I think it rained every day of the
days I remained at Cong except the blink of sunshine that shone on the
castle and grounds the day that I went over part of the Ashford
_demesne_.
At Cong, for the first time in my life, I heard the Irish lament or
caoine for the dead. Some one was brought in from the country to be
buried in the Abbey of Cong. It was a simple country funeral. The dead
was borne on one of the carts of the country, followed by the neighbors,
and accompanied by the parish priest of Cong. The day was very wet even
for Ireland. After the burial service was over the women, kneeling by
the new made grave, among the rank wet grass, and the dripping ivy,
raised the caoine. It was a most unearthly sound, sweet like singing,
sad like crying, rising up among the ruined towers, and clinging ivy and
floating up heavenwards. I believe the stories of banshees must have
arisen from the sound of the caoine. These mourning women were very
skilful, I was told, and were relations of the dead whom they mourned,
and whose good qualities mingled with their love and grief rose in
wailing cry and floated weirdly over the ruins and up to the clouds.
I had at this time an invitation from Mr. Sydney Bellingham to come over
to Castle Bellingham to see life from another standpoint. I was standing
at the window debating with myself. I did not like to leave the West
before seeing a little more of it, and I do want, in the interests of
truth, to look at things from every available standpoint. If I go to
Castle Bellingham I must go now, I reasoned, for after this they go to
England. As I stood there thinking, a handsome car dashed past with a
gentleman and lady on it, followed by another with a guard of policemen.
I enquired who this guarded gentleman was, and was told it was that Mr.
Bourke who went into the Catholic church armed to the teeth.
I have been nearly five months in Ireland, travelling about almost
constantly, and as yet have only seen three persons who were protected
by police, two men and one woman. I decided to leave Cong, and after
studying on the map the nearest way to Castle Bellingham, determined to
take that way.
Left Cong in the early morning to sail down Lough Corrib to Galway. For
some reason the landing place has been altered, and is now some distance
from Cong, at which it used to be. This change is a drawback to Cong.
There are mills at Cong that used to grind indian corn, but they are not
used now for some reason or other, and are falling into ruin. The
shifting of the landing place was done by Lord Ardilaun, the stoppage of
the mills by him also. The landing place where the little steamer waited
for freight and passengers had a little crowd, who seemed to have more
to do than just to look on, and there was a little hum of traffic that
sounded cheerful.
It was a very windy day; Lough Corrib's waves had white caps on. The sun
came out fitfully, and the clouds swept great shadows over the mountain
sides. There were patches of green oats bathed in sunshine, and
plantations of larch and fir standing close and locked in shadow. The
wind was so strong that the little steamer seemed to plough her way with
a bobbing motion like the coots on Lough Gill. We had a fine view from
the lake of Ashford _demesne_, and the castle looking still grander
and newer in the distance, all its towers and pinnacles bathed in the
cold sunshine.
There are many islands in Lough Corrib besides the islands that the
priest and people of Clonbur built the causeway to. It is strange that
two lords take their titles from islands in this lake, Lord Inchiquin
and Lord Ardilaun. Some of the peasantry felt hurt because Lord Ardilaun
took his title from an island instead of from some part of the mainland.
I was pointed out in the distance from the lake, Moytura house, the home
of Sir William Wilde; it stands where was fought the battle of Moytura
in ancient times.
From the steamer we saw the ruined fortress, Annabreen Castle, said to
be six hundred years old. The masonry is very curious, being all done
within and without, quoins, doorways, window frames, of undressed stone,
and yet most admirably done.
I stood on the deck of the little steamer while the wind blew in the
teeth of the little boat and made her shiver and rock, and I endured
sharp neuralgiac pain, and lost my veil, which was blown off and went
sailing off into the lake because I would not miss seeing all Lough
Corrib had to show. I saw the ivy plaided walls of Caislean na
Cailliach, and on a little island the remains of an old uncemented stone
fort, so old that antiquity has forgotten it. The scenery was very
grand, the islands grassy and round, or waving with trees, the lake
covered with white horses riding with tossing manes to the shore; the
little boat with its broad breast holding its own against the swells,
the shores with green mountains checked off into fields, with higher
mountains blue in the distance rising behind them. All under
"The skies of dear Erin, our mother
Where sunshine and shadow are chasing each other."
The little steamer steamed up to the wharf and backed and stopped, in
most American fashion, at a lonely backwoods-looking wharf, but the
pillars for the snubbing rope were pillars of stone, and near were the
ruins of a tall square castle in good preservation. There are also the
walls of the bishop's residence here, with the bells of St. Brendan;
they told me this was the saint who discovered the happy land flowing
with milk and honey, the key to which lies hidden in Cuneen Miaul's tomb
and the ruins of an extensive abbey, a monastery and a nunnery and other
buildings.
Truly the banks and islands of Lough Corrib are made classic by ruins.
They say the carved mouldings and stone work on these ruins are
considered the most beautiful and most perfect in Ireland. We passed,
farther on, the ruins of Armaghdown, the castle fort of the bog. After
this the land got low and flat, and we saw Menlough Castle, where a
baronet of the name of Blake resides, when he's at home. It is counted
the most beautiful of all the ancient castles which are still inhabited.
All I can say is, it looked well from the lake. Lough Corrib is
calculated to cover 44,000 acres, and is well supplied with fish.