with Coshleen and Champolard, with Derryinver, Cleggan, and Omey
Island while others give abundant evidence of improvement and
enlightened management. On the north side of Dingle Bay lies the
estate of Lord Ventry, a popular landlord I am told, for the reason
that he has not "harassed his tenants" with improvements, nor sought
to wipe out the effect of the old middleman style of mismanagement by
reducing their number and forcing them to live in habitations better
perhaps than they care for. The crowding of people into a few
villages, brought about partly by the desire of middlemen to make a
profit, partly by electioneering schemes, and partly by the natural
gregariousness of the peasants, has been already too fully dwelt upon
to need repetition. What was done by landlords and middlemen in many
places has been emulated by squatters wherever they have succeeded in
occupying free land like the Commons of Ardfert, the condition whereof
rivals that of Lurgankeale, in Louth, and of the historic townland of
Tibarney, in common, a map of which hung, if I mistake not, for some
time in the Library of the House of Commons. This last-named spot
consisted of 164 statute acres, divided into 222 lots among eleven
tenants, who cultivated alternate ridges and patches in the same
field. Whether held by small tenants or landlords or of middlemen or
by small proprietors, the land was always in the same state of
confusion.
On portions of the Blennerhasset estate previously spoken of, and on
the Commons of Ardfert, the effect may be studied of influences
against which the modern Kerry landlord has been in many cases
striving for the whole of his lifetime. Half a century ago the advice
to "neither a borrower nor a lender be," was systematically ignored.
It is curious to hear that two eminent patriots of the period, Daniel
O'Connell and the Knight of Kerry, were both middlemen, and in the
case of Cahirciveen had one of the Blennerhassets as a co-middleman
under Trinity College, and that the compact was only finally annulled
by the resolution of the latter to have no more to do with it. The
great "Liberator" considered as a middleman appears in an odd light,
but he was a liberal specimen of the genus, and with his partners
supplied Cahirciveen with previously unheard-of drainage and pavement.
At the same time the ends of the Island of Valentia were leased by
Maurice Fitzgerald, Knight of Kerry, the friend of Castlereagh and
Wellington, to other middlemen, and it seemed that the work of
confusion could go no further.
The Island of Valentia was, I was informed, a favourable spot on which
to study the operation of paternal government. Sir Peter Fitzgerald,
the late Knight of Kerry, had enjoyed unbounded popularity, and had
employed his personal influence to raise the population under his care
in the social scale. When he had retaken the lands leased to Sir James
O'Connell or his ancestor, he found certain lowlands, notably that of
Bally Hearny, among a number of small holders; but the patches held by
each tenant were oddly distributed. Three men held farms of thirty
acres each, made up of detached lots completely separate one from the
other, and scattered broadcast over the area of the townlands; while
another man's farm of the same area extended from the sea at one end
to the top of the mountain at the other, measuring one mile and
fourteen perches in length, with an average width of twenty perches.
After some difficulties had been surmounted the fields were "squared,"
the odds and ends of lands consolidated, and the partnership in
fields, with its absurd practice of cultivating alternate ridges,
abolished.
In a speech addressed by the Knight of Kerry to his tenants, he
distinctly put his foot down on the system of subdivision, to which
the peasantry of Ireland are almost insanely attached. He determined
to permit nothing of the kind in the future. To those who had already
subdivided he offered new mountain farms, leaving the sub-dividers to
decide who should remain and who should remove. To those removed for
sub-dividing their small holdings, and to those whose still smaller
patches made their removal imperative, reclaimed and reclaimable lands
at Corobeg and Bray Head were offered, with brand new houses; and
after much discussion and final casting of lots the extruded ones
resigned themselves to the fearful doom of removal from the spots to
which they had long clung like limpets.
To reach Valentia Island it is necessary to leave the railway track
from Mallow to Tralee, and at Killarney commence what in London
parlance might be called a cruise in a "growler;" for an unmistakable
"growler," well built and comfortably lined, was the vehicle supplied
to me as a "carriage," with a pair of excellent horses, by Spillane,
the sometime guide and present postingmaster of Killarney. The
postchaise assumes many forms in Ireland, but only once have I met the
original _coupé_ holding only two persons. It is a long drive to the
ferry at the extremity of the peninsula between the bays of Kenmare
and Dingle. Beyond, the Island of Valentia lies like a breakwater
against the Atlantic, and the scene at nightfall is strange enough,
with flashing lanterns, shouting ferrymen, and plashing oars. The
ferryman is far from considering Valentia Harbour as a drawback to the
island, and, like a fine old discontented retainer as he is, complains
bitterly of the attempt made years ago by the late Knight of Kerry to
establish a steam ferry. But ferrymen are always stern sticklers for
vested rights. Doubtless Charon claimed heavy compensation when the
Styx Ferry was disestablished. Apart from the ferryman, however, the
Valentians are by no means enamoured of their insular position. "That
ould blackgyard of a ferry" is, in fact, just now a serious item of
discontent.
It is urged by the islanders, nearly three thousand in number,
including the villagers, the quarrymen, and the staff of
telegraphists, presided over by the skilful and courteous Mr. Graves,
that the ferry is the cause of half their troubles. The peasants, who
sell their stock at the thirteen fairs held yearly at Cahirciveen,
declare that the cost of the ferry-boat for themselves and their
beasts is a substantial reason for the reduction of the rent, inasmuch
as they are put at a disadvantage with the people on the mainland.
This is not the only grievance of that section transplanted to the
hill side by Bray Head. They complain that they are afar off--a droll
objection on an island six miles long--and have given their settlement
the nickname of "Paris," in allusion to its remoteness from
Knightstown and the ferry which leads to the grogshops and Fenian
centres of Cahirciveen. I am told that the duty on the spirits sold in
that cheerful townlet exceeds the whole annual value of the barony of
Iveragh, and can bear witness to the convergence of the surrounding
population on market day.
Beside the grievances already enumerated, and only felt in their full
poignancy since the establishment of a branch of the Land League at
Cahirciveen, the Valentians now complain that their land is "set" too
high.
Amid the mass of conflicting evidence and the diverse methods of
calculation, it is very difficult to arrive at any conclusion on this
point. That the land is let above Griffith's valuation is certain, but
so is much more of the cheapest land in the west and south. Moreover,
the improvements made by the late Sir Peter Fitzgerald were not only
considerable in the way of draining and fencing, but are visible to
the naked eye in the shape of some fifty new houses, well and solidly
built of stone with slate roofs, sleeping rooms up stairs, properly
separated after the most approved fashion, a cowhouse, and other
offices required by the Board of Works. These houses, which contrast
remarkably with the old structures not yet improved off the face of
the island, accommodate half of Sir Maurice Fitzgerald's agricultural
tenants, of whom there are about 100 on his part of the island, as
well as eighty-eight cottier or labourer tenants, who work for the
farmers or at the slate quarry, and have little patches of ground
attached to their cabins. Each new house built out-and-out has cost
80l., and those put on existing foundations about 60l. It seems to me
wonderful that anybody should dream of building anything on the site
of an Irish peasant's hut, but perhaps I am fastidious. So far as I
make it out, about 6 per cent. has been charged for building and other
improvements to the tenant, whose rent has thus in one case been
raised by 2s. 6d., and in others by as much as 3s. 3d. per acre. As
the entire rent in one case reaches 8s., and in the other 10s. 9d. per
acre, it does not seem enormous; but it is no business of mine to
decide on value. I only state facts as distinctly as I can, and
whether the rent be light or heavy there is no doubt that the tenants
have paid it with some approach to regularity even up to date, and
that the local agitation is deprived of much of its effervescence
owing to this fact. Against this fair side of the picture is the
awkward truth that during the bad times of last winter the Valentians,
including the tenants of the Knight of Kerry and those of Trinity
College, received about 1,200l. worth of relief among a couple of
thousand souls.
It is equally worthy of remark that those tenants for whom new houses
have been built are by no means enthusiastic about them, and
apparently would rather save the rent of them and live in a rough
stone cabin as of old. I am aware that in making this statement I am
liable to a charge of prejudice against the ignorant people, of whom I
can only speak with pity not unmixed with kindness. I may be told that
pigs were thought to be dirty until people took to keeping them clean,
and that the animals are known to prefer their last state to their
first. I may also be told that filth is the outcome of poverty, and
that the Irish peasantry are filthy in their habits because they are
poor. Now, to speak out plainly, this is not true; for I have seen
people with a round sum on deposit at the bank, and in one case paying
as much as 250l. rent for their farms, living amid almost
indescribable filth. The dislike of soap and water, except for the
visible parts of the human body on high days and holidays, appears to
be part of the general indifference to beauty remarkable in the Irish
peasant. His cottage is never adorned with flowers. Neither rose,
honeysuckle, nor jasmine clings around his door. In a climate which
allows fuchsia hedges to grow and bloom luxuriantly none appear round
the peasant's garden. Myrtles, laurel, and bay there are in plenty at
Valentia, but they are grouped near the gigantic fuchsia bush at
Glanleam, or nestle among the houses of the telegraphic company. It is
the same in other places. All is unloveliness and squalor, even when
potatoes are plentiful and butter fetches a high price at Cork.
These thoughts were borne strongly in upon me during a visit to
"Paris." A drifting rain obscured the Skelligs, and drove me to take
shelter in a "Parisian" household. The house stood sound and square to
the wind with its slated roof and thick stone whitewashed walls,
whitewash being ordained by a Board of Works wildly striving for
cleanliness and health. The exterior of the house itself was well
enough, but alack for the approaches and the interior! Plunging
through mud I reached the door, and, glancing through the window,
descried the inevitable pig inside the kitchen. The people--to be just
to them--seemed a little fluttered, if not ashamed, of the plight in
which I found them. It was quite evident that since the new 80l. house
was built not a drop of water had been expended on its interior. The
wooden staircase leading to the bedrooms aloft was in such condition
that I shuddered to touch its sticky surface, the floor so filthy that
I instinctively gathered up the skirts of my overcoat, the bedsteads
filled up with blankets and odds and ends of unimaginable shades of
dirt colour.
Yet this apparently poverty-stricken home was already subdivided in
defiance of the conditions of tenancy. The eldest daughter had been
married some little time without the landlord or bailiff finding it
out, and there was the bridegroom established in half of the house and
endowed with half of the farm. He was at home too; a huge black-browed
fellow, doing nothing at all, after the manner of his kind. And this
was the outcome of an attempt to distribute the Valentians in holdings
of respectable size and to make them live in houses instead of hovels.
Two families were already established in the place of one, and the
house was already like unto a stye. The inhabitants, however, were
mighty civil when they recovered from their surprise, and spoke well
of their landlord and of everybody connected with him, especially of
the ladies of his family, who had done much to find paying employment
for the girls by getting them a market for knitted and other
needlework.
Pursuing my cruise in a Growler round the coast I came past some
magnificent scenery by Waterville, at the head of Ballinskelligs Bay
to Derrynane, once the abode of the "Liberator," and now occupied by
Mr. Daniel O'Connell, his grandson, who gave me a curious instance of
the profit to be realised on a dairy and grazing farm. He has leased
the island of Scariff from Lord Dunraven for 60l. per annum, has put a
dairyman upon it, and sells off of it yearly produce, butter, cattle,
sheep, wool, and pigs, to the value of 230l., the valuation of the
island, according to Griffith, being, including the dairyman's house
27l. 5s. Mr. O'Connell also gave me an odd proof of the retribution
which appears likely to fall upon the landowners of the barony of
Iveragh.
When the Government valuation was first made public it was protested
against by Sir James O'Connell, who succeeded in getting it reduced by
30 per cent., an unfortunate circumstance for the present proprietors
if the Land League continue to have it all their own way. The League,
however, has not yet troubled Derrynane; the tenants, who since 1841
have been greatly reduced in number by emigration and the
consolidation of holdings, have paid their rent fairly up to this,
that is to say fairly according to the usage of that remote part of
Kerry. They average "the grass of six cows," with the run of the
mountain, "for rather more" collops or young cows, not yet in milk.
Derrynane rejoices in many memorials of the Liberator, but the relic
of "Ould Dan" that all visitors, and especially Irishmen, are most
anxious to see, is in the oblong mahogany box lying on the tall desk
at which he was wont to stand and write. It is that article of
furniture without which no Irish gentleman's equipment was more
complete than his house without an avenue. "My pistols which I shot
Captain Marker," as poor Rawdon Crawley put it. There reposes
peacefully enough now by the side of its companion, the weapon with
which the "Liberator" shot Mr. D'Esterre. It is a flint lock pistol of
very large bore, and with stock reaching to the muzzle. One
peculiarity about this pistol is worthy of note. Beneath the trigger
guard a piece of steel extends curving downwards and outwards towards
the muzzle, a convenient device, as I find, for steadying the weapon
by aid of the second finger. On the stock is cut rudely a capital D.,
for D'Esterre. There are no other marks, although the pistols have a
pedigree and a story attached to them.
One day an English officer stationed in Ireland found himself in the
painful position of waiting for remittances. Knowing nobody likely to
be useful to him he appealed to the most noteworthy Irishman of his
day, and stating his pressing need, asked him to lend him 50l. until
his funds came to hand. Daniel O'Connell, who was a keen judge of
character, lent him the money without hesitation, and was shortly
repaid, with many expressions of gratitude. About a year afterwards
the Englishman was ordered on a foreign station, and, unwilling to
leave Ireland without giving some tangible expression of his
thankfulness to O'Connell, called upon him and presented him with the
duelling pistols in question, which were accepted as heartily as the
money was lent. On taking his leave the Englishman said, "If you
should ever have occasion to use these pistols you will find them very
good ones; they have already killed ten men." The first and only time
"Ould Dan" used them he killed Mr. D'Esterre, to whose family, it must
be added, he afterwards did all he could to atone for that injury.
Mr. O'Connell also showed me a brass blunderbuss once the property of
Robert Emmet. It has a revolving chamber, which, instead of turning
automatically, must be adjusted by hand after every shot, a curious
forerunner of Colt's invention, adaptation, or revival. Derrynane is
delightfully situated at a spot called appropriately "White Strand,"
from the silvery sand washed by the Atlantic waves. Above it stands
the celebrated circular fort of Staigue, built of dry stone, and with
an inclined plane inside like those at West Cove and Ballycarbery.
Opposite is the magnificent rocky peninsula of Lamb Head, the road
across which much resembles parts of St. Gothard, plus the magnificent
sea shining in the sun.
The crag of Lamb Head, broken into a thousand jagged slopes, is here
and there overgrown with short sweet herbage. Wherever grass grows
there will a Kerry calf or "collop" be found. How the pretty little
black cattle cling like flies to those dizzy windy heights is
marvellous; but there they are, night and day, for months at a
stretch, giving no trouble to anybody, growing into condition ready
for "finishing" on richer pasture, and giving life and beauty to a
scene which would, without them, be but grandly desolate. The little
Kerries are greatly prized as "milkers," and they yield good beef, but
very little of it--not more than four hundredweight per beast. By the
side of the superb shorthorns of the Ardfert herd they look like
goats; but such cattle as Mr. Crosbie's cream-coloured bull are only
suited to richer pasture than the rocks of Lamb Head. It may also be
added that for the purpose of dairy-farms the best commercial cows are
all bred between the rough native cattle and shorthorns, or between
Devon and Ayrshire, the latter cross being specially liked by Mr.
Hegarty, of Mill Street, county Cork, referred to in a previous
letter, and by many other good judges. This fact, however, by no means
detracts from the value of such a magnificent herd as that of Mr.
Crosbie. On the contrary it is held by many experts that first-class
shorthorn bulls are a necessity for preventing the cross-bred animals
from reverting to the original local type.
The improvement in cattle in Kerry, owing to the importation of
shorthorns by Mr. Crosbie, and in a smaller degree by other
proprietors, is very marked; but despite this the thoroughbred Kerry
still remains and is likely to remain lord of the mountain until
mayhap he be displaced by the smaller Scotch cattle, as he has already
been in some localities by the black-faced sheep, who leads an equally
hardy and independent life until wanted for "finishing."
From Derrynane the road passes along the coast, and through Sneem to
Derryquin, the estate of that typical landlord, Mr. F.C. Bland, beyond
whose lands lie those of Mr. Mahony, of Dromore, the apostle of
concrete and author of a pamphlet which has made a great noise in
Ireland, and is accepted by "improving" landlords as stating their
case perfectly. Mr. Bland, whose domain lies on the north side of the
embouchure of the Kenmare River, owns about thirty-eight square miles
of territory, and is one of the most popular men in Kerry.
Extraordinary stories are told of him. "Know 'um, begorra," answered a
native to my query, "Don't I know 'um; and it is he that's the good
man, your honour, and every man and baste will do anything for 'um,
and he has got tame lobsthers that sit up to be fed, and a tame salmon
that follows 'um about like a dog."
This, to say the least, appeared an ample statement; but I confess the
temptation to see the man who owned contented tenants and tame fish
was too strong to be overcome, and I therefore procured an
introduction to Mr. Bland, who with great modesty promised to show me
his improvements on condition that I would also look over those of
that arch improver his neighbour, Mr. Mahony. To appraise the real
value of the work done by these two gentlemen at Derryquin and
Dromore--a region of some eighty-five square miles altogether--it must
be understood that forty years ago this part of Kerry was, with the
exception of the main track to Cork, absolutely without roads, an
almost impassable tract of wild mountain and morass cut up by streams,
which when swollen stopped all communication even for foot passengers.
Yet it was inhabited by a considerable population paying rent,
sometimes, for the mountain farms, to which they carried their store
of meal on their backs.
It is said that the father of Mr. Bland went to his first school in a
pannier, a stone being put in the opposite one to steady the load on
the ass's back. This was the "good old-time," when few of the people
could speak English, none could read or write, all spun their wool and
made their bread at home, and none dreamed of opposing "the master's
will." Fortunately they were in good hands, for Mr. Bland went to
work, at first gently and afterwards more swiftly, at the task of
making land and people more civilised than had been thought possible
up to his time. During thirty years he has laid out 7,000l. of his own
and 10,000l. of Government money in bringing his estate and people
somewhat into consonance with modern ideas. He has made twenty-three
miles of road, built thirty stone houses with slated or tiled roofs,
and three schools. When the estate came into his hands there was not a
cart upon it except at Derryquin itself. Now two-thirds of the tenants
have carts and horses. Forty years ago the entire export and import
trade was done by a carrier who came from Cork once a month and was
looked for as anxiously as the periodical steamer at a station on the
West Coast of Africa. Now there are carriers weekly in all directions,
and steamboats calling regularly in Kenmare Bay. All this work has
been compassed by the landlord, with the partial assistance of the
Government, with the exception of one solitary house, which was built
by the tenant.
The story of Mr. Bland's tame fish, which "sat up, and followed him
about like a dog," turns out to have had some foundation in fact.
There is a fine pool of salt water at Derryquin (Ang. "Oakslope")
Castle, which stands on the edge of Kenmare Bay; and this pool not
long since held a number of tame fish, which came to be fed when
anybody approached, just as carp do in many well-known places.
Unluckily, however, a neighbouring otter found this out, and carried
away the unfortunate fish at the rate of two every night till not a
single fish is left. I hear that both salmon and pollock became
equally tame, but that the former, although eating everything offered
them, became miserably poor in a comparatively short time. The only
denizen of the pool that I actually saw was a lobster, who came out
from under a stone as I approached, in the hope, I was told, that I
was going to give him a mussel.
Mr. Bland, however, if he has not proved so redoubtable a fishtamer as
my original informant opined, has proved very successful in oyster
culture. Having a little salt-water inlet, with a river running into
it, he conceived the idea of breeding and raising oysters, but found
the climate bad for "spatting," and now buys his tiny young oysters by
the ten thousand at the Isle of Rhé, and puts them down in long
perforated boxes on his oyster beds. When they are between three and
four years old he consigns them to a correspondent at Ballyvaughan,
who puts them in, I believe, deep-sea oyster beds for a while and
converts them into the famous Burren oysters, which, like the Marenne
oysters, are generally preferred by Englishmen to "Natives," while the
"spat" of the latter is eagerly sought by the French for development
into Huitres d'Ostende.