They are more loyal than the Corkers. Why is this? The more Catholic,
the more disloyal, is the general experience. Nobody whose opinion is
worth anything will deny this, and however much you may wish to
dissociate religion from politics, you cannot blink this fact. In
dealing with important matters, it is useless to march a
hair's-breadth beside the truth. Better go for it baldheaded, calling
things by their right names, taking your gruel, and standing by to
receive the lash. You are bound to win in the long run. I say the
Catholic priests are disloyal to the Queen. Men of the old school, the
few who remain, are loyal, ardently loyal. The old-timers were
gentlemen. They were sent to Douai or some other Continental
theological school, where they rubbed against gentlemen of broad
culture, of extensive view, of perfect civilisation. They returned to
Ireland with a personal weight, a cultivation, a refinement, which
made them the salt of Irish earth. These men are still loyal. The
Maynooth men, sons of small farmers, back-street shopkeepers,
pawnbrokers, and gombeen men, aided by British gold, these half-bred,
half-educated absorbers of eleemosynary ecclesiasticism, are deadly
enemies to the Empire. This is Mr. Bull's guerdon for the Maynooth
grant. My authority is undeniable. The statement is made on the
assurance of eminent Catholics. Two Catholic J.P.'s yesterday
concurred in this, and no intelligent Irish Catholic will think
otherwise. Surely this consideration should be a factor in arguments
against Home Rule.
Then why are the Limerick Catholics loyal? Because the Limerick Bishop
is loyal. Bishop O'Dwyer is opposed to Home Rule. Said Mr. James
Frost, J.P., of George's Street: "When the Bishop first came here he
invited some four hundred Catholics to a banquet at the palace. After
dinner he proposed the health of the Queen, and all the company save
two or three rose and received the toast with enthusiasm, waving their
handkerchiefs and showing an amount of warmth that was most gratifying
to me. I need not tell you that an average Home Rule audience would
not have accepted the toast at all. This shows you the feeling of the
most intelligent Catholics. The people of education and property are
loyal. It shows also that they are opposed to Home Rule."
"But if the best Catholics are opposed to Home Rule, why don't they
say so publicly?"
"A fair question, which shall have a precise answer. But first, we
must go back to Mr. Balfour's great Land Act, and the lowering of the
franchise, and observe the effect of these two enactments.
"The people were at one time terribly ill-used. That is all over now,
but the memory still rankles. The Irish are great people for
tradition. The landlords have for ages been the traditional embodiment
of tyranny and religious ascendency. The Irish people have long
memories, very long memories. Englishmen would say: 'No matter what
happened to my great-grandfather; I am treated well, and that is
enough for me.' Irishmen still go harping on the landlord, although he
no longer has any power. The terrible history of the former
relationship between landlord and tenant is still kept up and
remembered, and will be remembered for ages, if not for ever.
Presently you will see the bearing of all this on your question--Why
do not the best Catholics come forward and speak against Home Rule?
"When the franchise was lowered the rebound from repression was
tremendous, like a powerful spring that has been held down, or like an
explosive which is the more destructive in proportion as it is more
confined. People newly made free go to the opposite extreme.
Emancipate a serf and he becomes insolent, he does not know how to use
his freedom, and becomes violent. The great majority of the people are
smarting from the old land laws, which have left a bitter animosity
against English rule, which is popularly denounced as being
responsible for them.
"To speak against Home Rule is to associate yourself with the worst
aspects of the land question. The bulk of the people are incapable of
making a distinction. And while they entertain some respect for a
Protestant opponent, they are irreconcilable with Unionist Catholics,
just as the English Gladstonians have a far more virulent dislike for
the Liberal Unionists than for the rankest Tories. They say to the
Protestants, 'We know why you uphold Unionism'--that is, as they
believe, landlordism--'for the landlords are English and Protestant;
your position is understandable.' But to the Catholic they say, 'You
are not only an enemy, but a renegade, a traitor, and a deserter.' And
whatever that man's position may be, the people can make things
uncomfortable for him."
Another Catholic living near, said: "'How would Home Rule work?' you
ask. Most destructively, most ruinously. Under the most favourable
circumstances, whether Home Rule passes or not, the country will not
recover the shock of the present agitation for many a year; not, I
think, in my lifetime. I was over in the North of England last year,
and I found that the people there knew nothing of the question,
literally nothing. Clever men, intelligent men, men who had the ear of
the people, displayed a profundity of ignorance on Irish questions,
conjoined with a confidence in discussing them, surpassing belief.
They changed their minds on hearing my statements, and on obtaining
exact information. I must give them credit for that. I believe the
English Gladstonians are only suffering from ignorance. Their leader
is certainly not less ignorant than the bleating flock at his heels.
They smugly argue from the known to the unknown on entirely false
premises. They know that when Englishmen act in this or that way, such
and such things will happen. They know what they themselves would do
in certain conjunctures, and when they are told by Irishmen that
Irishmen under similar conditions would act quite differently, they
snort and say 'nonsense.' They are too dense to appreciate the radical
difference between the two races. The breeds don't mix and don't
understand each other. It was miserable to hear these men--I am sure
they were good men--prattling like bib-and-tucker babies about Irish
affairs, and speaking of Gladstone as possessing a quality which we
Catholics only ascribe to the Pope. Ha! ha! They think that vain old
cataract of verbiage to be infallible. He knows nothing of the matter,
does not understand the tools he is working with, any one of whom
could buy and sell him and simple, clever Morley twenty times over.
Both Gladstone and Morley _are_ clever in books, in words, in
theories, adepts in debating, smart and adroit in talk. But they know
no more of Paddy than the babe unborn. I say nothing of Harcourt and
the other understrappers. They'll say anything that suits, whatever it
may be. We reckoned them up long since. Cannot the English people see
through these nimble twisters and time-servers, this crowd of lay
Vicars of Bray?"
Catholic Home Ruler Number Three said, "I agree with all who say that
the priests would do their best to secure a dominating influence in
political affairs. And although I think we ought to have an Irish
Legislature, although I believe it would be good for us, yet if the
priestly influence were to become supreme for one moment of time--if
you tell me that the Catholic Church is to hold the reins for one
second, then I say, away with Home Rule, away with it for ever! Better
stay as we are."
This gentleman seems to have about as much logical foresight as some
of those he criticises. He dreads priestly domination above
everything, and yet would approve of giving the priests a chance of
being masters. He continued:--
"The present Irish leaders are the curse of the movement, which,
should it succeed, would in their hands bring untold sorrows on the
country. As a Catholic Home Ruler, I put up my hands in supplication,
and I beg, I implore of the English people to withhold their assent.
For God's sake don't give it us at present. We must have it sooner or
later, but wait till we have leaders we can trust. Have you met a
decent Home Ruler who trusts the present men? No. I knew you would say
so. Such a man cannot be found in Ireland. Then why send them to
Parliament, say you? That is just what you Englishmen do not
understand. That is one of the points old Gladstone is wrecking the
country on. You think it unanswerable. Listen to me.
"When the franchise was lowered, then the mistake was made. You let in
an immense electorate utterly incapable of discussing any question of
State; and, rushing from the extreme of abject servility to a sort of
tyrannical mastery, they elected as their representatives, not the
most able men, not the most orderly men, not the men of some training
and education, not the men who had some stake in the country, but the
most violent men, the glibbest men, the most factious, the most
contumacious, the most pragmatical men were the men they elected. Look
at the Poor-Law Boards. See the set sent there. Those are the men who
will be sent to the Dublin Parliament. Are they men to be trusted with
the affairs of State? Look up your Burke, and observe the
qualifications he thinks necessary to a statesman. Then look at the
blacksmith who represents the county Tipperary, the mason who
represents Meath, the drapers' assistants and bacon factors' clerks
who represent other places. You don't quite see this in England. These
men perhaps tell you that they are kings in their own country.
Ireland is a long way off, and far-away hills are green.
"Reverse the situation. Let Dublin be the seat of Empire and London
wanting Home Rule. You really want it, and think it would be best for
both--a convenience for yourself and a saving of time for all. Would
you not draw back at the last moment if under the circumstances I have
named, your country was to be handed over to fellows whose sole income
was derived from their political work, artisans, clerks, and
shopkeepers' assistants? What would these men do with their power?
Make haste to be rich--nothing more. Patriots are they? Rubbish; they
are mere mercenaries. Parnell knew that. He said to me:--
"'Under the circumstances I must use these men, whom I would not
otherwise touch with a forty-foot pole. Adversity makes us acquainted
with strange bedfellows. Any port is good in a storm. These men will
fight well--for their pay, and will work the thing up. But when we get
the bill, when we come into power, their work is done. They will be
dropped at once, or furnished with places where they may get an honest
living.'"
Catholic Home Ruler Number Four said: "The Meath election shows the
feeling of the priests, and what they would do if they could. They
loathed Parnell, but he was too strong for them. And weren't they glad
to give him the slip on the ground of morality. Home Rule was
comparatively a safe thing while Parnell lived. Now I would not advise
it for some years. We must have better men to the fore. We in Limerick
are loyal, although Catholics and Home Rulers. Don't laugh at that. It
is a fact, though I admit it is hard to believe. Put it down, if you
like, to the influence of the Bishop. The young priests I say nothing
about. Their loyalty is a negligeable quantity. They do not object to
Protestants _qua_ Protestants, but they object to them as
representatives of English rule."
This reminded me of Dr. Kane, of Belfast, who said to me, "They hate
us, not because we are Protestants, not because we are Orangemen, not
because we are strangers in the land, but because we are the hated
English garrison."
Here I am bound to interpolate a word of qualification. The Mardyke
promenade of Cork, a mile-long avenue of elms, has many comfortable
seats, whereon perpetually do sit the "millingtary" of the
sacrilegious Saxon, holding sweet converse with the Milesian
counterparts of the Saxon Sarah Ann. The road is full of them, Tommy's
yellow-striped legs marching with the neat kirtle of Nora, Sheela, or
Maureen. As it was in the Isle of Saints, so it was in Ulster, is now
in Limerick, and shall be in Hibernia _in saecula saeculorum_. A
Limerick constable said, "A regiment will come into the city at four
o'clock, and at eight they'll every man walk out a girl. The
infatuation of the servant-girl class for the military is surprisin'.
Only let them walk out with a soldier, and they 'chuck' everything,
even Home Rule." The hated garrison are not among the people who
never will be missed. Wherever Tommy goes he seems to be able to
sample the female population. The soldiers always have a rare good
time.
A carman who drove me to Castleconnel proved the most interesting
politician since Dennis Mulcahy, of Carrignaheela. He knew all about
the average English voter, and resented his superior influence in
Irish affairs. "Shure, we're all undher the thumb o' a set o' black
men that lives undher the bowils o' the airth. Yer honner must know
all about thim miners in the Black Counthry, an' in Wales, an' the
Narth o' England? Ye didn't? Ah, now, ye're jokin' me, ye take me for
an omadhaun all out. Ye know all about it; ye know that these poor men
goes down, an' down, an' down, till ye'd think they'd niver shtop, an'
that they stay there a whole week afore they come up agin. An' then
they shtand in tubs while their wives an' sweethearts washes an'
scrubs thim, an' makes white men out o' the black men that comes up,
an' thin walks thim off home. Now, shtandin' in a tub at the mouth o'
the pit to be washed by yer wimmenfolks is what we wouldn't do in this
counthry--'tisn't black naygurs we are--an' these men that lives in
the dark and have no time to think, an' nothin' to think wid, these
are the men ye put to rule this counthry, men that they print sich
rubbish as _Tit-Bits_ for, because they couldn't understand sinse. An'
the man that first found out that they couldn't understand sinse, an'
gave thim somethin' that wanted no brains, they say has made a
fortune. Is that thrue, now?
"As for owld Gladstone, I wouldn't trust him out o' me sight. We'll
get no Home Rule, the owld thrickster doesn't mane it. 'Tis like a man
I knew that was axed to lind a friend L100. He didn't like to lind,
an' he was afeared to say No, an' he was in a quondairy intirely. So,
says he 'I'll lind ye the money,' says he, 'if ye'll bring the
securities down to the bank,' says he, 'an' get the cash off me
banker.' Thin he went saycretly to the banker, an' says he, 'This
thievin' blayguard,' says he, 'wants the money, and he'll never repay
me; I wouldn't thrust him,' says he. 'Now, will ye help me, for I
couldn't say No, by raison he's a relative, an' an owld acquaintance,'
says he.
"'An' how'll I do that?' says the banker.
"'Ye can tur-rn up yer nose at the securities.'
"'Ha, Ha,' says the banker, 'is it there ye are? Ye're a deep one;
begorra ye are. Nabocklish,' says he, 'I'll do it for ye,' says he.
"So whin the borrower wint for the money, the banker sent out word
that the securities wor not good enough, an' that he wouldn't advance
a farden.
"Then the borrower goes to his frind an' complains, an' thin the frind
acts all out the way Gladstone'll act when the bill's refused at the
Lords, or may be at the Commons. 'Hell to him,' he roars, 'the
blayguard thief iv a thievin' banker. I'll tache him to refuse a
frind, says he. 'Sarve him right,' says he, 'av I bate his head into
a turnip-mash an' poolverise him into Lundy Foot snuff. May be I
won't, whin I meet him, thrash him till the blood pours down his
heels,' says he. That'll be the way iv it. That's what Gladstone will
say whin the bill's lost, which he manes it to be, the conthrivin'
owld son o' a schamer.
"A gintleman axed me which o' them I like best o' the two Home Rule
Bills, an' I towld him that whin I lived at Ennis, an' drove a car at
the station there, the visithors, Americans an' English, would be
axin' me whin they lepped on the car which was the best hotel in
Ennis. Now, whiniver I gave them my advice they would be cur-rsin' an'
sinkin' at me whin they met me aftherwards in the sthreet, be raison
that there was only two hotels in the place, an' nayther o' thim was
at all aiqual to what they wor used to in their own counthries. So I
got to know this, an' iver afther, whin they would be sayin' to me,
"'Which is the best hotel in Ennis?' says they, an' I would answer,
"'Faix, there's only two o' thim, an' to whichiver one ye go ye will
be sorrowin' that ye didn't go to the other,' says I.
"An' that's my reply as to which of the two Home Rule Bills I like
best."
In the city of Limerick itself all is quiet and orderly. Outside,
things are different. Disturbed parts of the County Clare are
dangerous to strangers, and, what is more to the point, somewhat
difficult of access. The country is not criss-crossed with railways as
in England, and vehicles for long journeys are rather hard to get.
However, I have chartered a car for a three-day trip into what may be
called the interior, have fired several hundred cartridges from a
Winchester repeating rifle, and written letters to my dearest friends.
I start to-morrow, and if I do not succeed in bottoming the recent
outrages--which are hushed up as much as possible, and of which the
local newspaper-men, both Nationalist and Conservative, together with
Head-Constable MacBrinn, declare they cannot get at the precise
particulars--if I cannot get to the root of the matter, I shall in my
next letter have the honour of stating the reason why.
Limerick, April 22nd.
No. 13.--THE CURSE OF COUNTY CLARE.
Once again the difference between Ireland and England is forcibly
exemplified. It was certain that several moonlighting expeditions had
recently been perpetrated in the neighbourhood of Limerick, which is
only divided by the Shannon from the County Clare. You walk over a
bridge in the centre of the city and you change your county, but
nobody in Limerick seems to know anything about the matter. The local
papers hush up the outrages when they hear of them, which is seldom or
never. The people who know anything will not, dare not tell, and even
the police have the utmost difficulty in establishing the bare facts
of any given case. English publicity is entirely unknown. Local
correspondents do not always exist in country towns, and the distances
are so great, in comparison with the facilities for travel, that
newspaper-men seldom or never visit the scene of the occurrence. And
besides the awkward and remote position of the country hamlets and
mountain farms, there are other excellent reasons for journalistic
reticence. The people do not wish to read such news, the editors do
not wish to print these discreditable records, and the police,
although eminently and invariably civil and obliging, are debarred by
their official position from disclosing what they know. The very
victims themselves are often silent, refusing to give details, and
almost always declining to give evidence. That the sufferers usually
know and could easily identify the cowardly ruffians who so cruelly
maltreat them is a well-ascertained fact. That they usually declare
they have no clue to the offenders is equally well known. The
difficulty of arresting suspected men is enhanced by the fact that the
moonlighters have a complete system of scouts who in this bare and
thinly populated district, descry the police when miles away, giving
timely warning to the marauders; these, besides, are readily concealed
by their neighbours and friends, who in this display an ingenuity and
enthusiasm worthy a better cause. Suppose the villains are caught
red-handed; even then the difficulties are by no means over. In
Ireland a felon once in the hands of the police, by that one
circumstance at once and for ever becomes a hero, a martyr, a man to
be excused, to be prayed for, to be worshipped. No matter how black
his offence, the touch of the constabulary washes him whiter than
snow, purifies him from every earthly taint, surrounds him with a halo
of sanctity. Those whom he has injured will not bear witness against
him, because their temerity might cost them their lives, the loss of
their property, the esteem of their fellow-men. What this means we
shall shortly see. The cases I have examined will speak for
themselves. And let it be remembered that close proximity to the
scenes described produces an incomparably stronger effect than any
description, however minute, however painstaking. The utter
lawlessness of the districts I have visited since penning Monday's
letter has produced a profound, an indelible impression. I pass over
the means employed to get over the ground, merely stating that
horseflesh has borne the brunt of the business. That and pedestrianism
are the only means available, with untold patience and perseverance to
worm out the true story. People will not show the way, or will direct
you wrongly. Their ignorance, that is, their assumed ignorance, is
wonderful, incredible. They are all sthrangers in those parts. They
never knew a family of that name, never heard of any moonlighting,
swear that the amusement is unknown thereabouts, assert that the
whole thing is a fabrication of the police. All the people round are
decent, honest, hard-working folks, without a fault; pious, virtuous,
immaculate. You push on, and your friend runs after you. Stay a
moment, something has struck him. Just at the last distressing hour,
his brain displayed amazing power. Now he comes to think of it,
something was said to have happened over there, at Ballygammon, ten
miles in the opposite direction. A stack was fired, and they said it
was the Boys. It was the police who burnt the hay, but they deny it
"av coorse." He is suspiciously anxious to afford all the information
he can. Ballygammon is the spot, and Tim Mugphiller your man. Mention
Mike Delany and you will get every information, and--have ye a screw
of tobacky these hard times. You pursue your way certain that at last
you are on the right track, and Mike's jaw drops to his knees. Too
late he sees that his only chance of altering your course was to point
out the right one.
Dropping for once scenery and surroundings, let us at once plunge, as
Horace advises, _in medias res_. The district in Mr. Balfour's time
was pleasant and peaceable. Curiously enough its troubles commenced
with the change of Government. From March 18 to April 18 the police of
Newcastlewest received tidings of fifteen outrages. How many have been
perpetrated no man living can tell, for people often think it wisest
to hold their peace. Ireland is often said to be almost free from
crime, except of the agrarian kind, and moonlighting is partly
condoned by reason of its alleged cause. How must we class the
following case?
On February 19, 1893, four armed men with blackened faces and dressed
as women, attacked the dwelling of T. Donoghue, of Boola, not far from
Newcastle. They burst open the door and entered, not to revenge any
real or fancied wrong, but purely and simply to obtain possession of a
sum of L150, which Donoghue's daughter had brought from America. They
believed they would have an easy prey, but they were mistaken; there
were two or three men in the house, and the heroes decamped instanter,
followed, unknown to themselves, by one of Donoghue's family. Having
duly run them to earth, he informed the police, who caught them neatly
enough, their shoes covered with fresh mud, and with every
circumstance of guilt. The Donoghue folks identified them. The case
was perfectly clear--that is the expressed opinion of everybody I have
met, official and otherwise. It was tried at the Limerick Spring
Assizes, and the jury returned a verdict of "Not guilty!" These
patriotic jurors had doubtless much respect for their oaths, more for
the interests of justice, more still for their own skins. This case is
public property, and is only cited to prove that when the difficulty
of arrest and the greater difficulty of obtaining evidence are with
infinite pains overcome, the jury will not convict, no matter what the
crime. Before he commences his career of crime, the moonlight marauder
knows the chances of being caught are immensely in his favour, that
should luck in this matter be against him, his very victim will
decline to identify him, nay, will affirm that he is not the man, and
that when the worst comes to the worst, no jury in the counties of
Kerry, Clare, or Limerick will convict.
Here are some results of my researches. The particulars of these cases
now first appear in print.