Commission. Messrs. Healy and Co. will have the appointment of the
Land Commissioners, whose function will be to fix rent. Wouldn't you
like to be a landlord under such conditions? Don't you think that the
rents will be reduced until the landlords are used up? Remember that
the total extinction of the landlords and their expulsion from the
country have been over and over again promised by the very men in
whose hands you, or rather Mr. Gladstone will place them. No; I
exculpate the English people from returning him to power, I know that
the brains of England as well as those of Ireland are against him. But
the English people stand by and see the thing pressed forward, hoping
for the best. They rely on their immense wealth and energy to get them
out of any hole they may get into. I am reminded of Captain Webb, who
said, 'I am bound to have a go at the Niagara rapids. I know it's
infernal risky and therefore infernally foolish, but I must have cash,
and I expect I shall pull through somehow.' And I once met a sailor
who said that his skipper had not his equal for getting the ship out
of a scrape, nor yet his equal for getting into one. Same with
England. Webb did not come up again. Might be the same with Bull.
England is risking all for peace, just as Webb risked all for money.
"The Irish Parliament may, after three years, break every contract
having regard to land, no matter when or how made. Think of the
ferment during that three years of waiting. Think of the situation of
farmers as well as that of landowners. Who will work the land and do
the best for the country without security? Then the College Green
folks will have power to establish an armed and disciplined force. The
Irish Army of Independence is already recruiting all over the country.
For what? Is it to assist England? Is it friendly to England? Why, the
very foundation of its sentiment is undying animosity to England. And
your English Home Rulers say, 'Quite right, too, the Irish have good
reason for their hatred!' Gladstonians come over here, mingle with
haters of their native land, and earn a little cheap popularity by
slanging John Bull. They get excellent receptions when they speak in
that vein, especially if they have any money to spend. But what do the
Irish think of them? The poor fools make me sick, splashing their cash
about and vilifying England for the cheers of Fenians and the
patronage of Maynooth priests. A lady from Wolverhampton, a good, kind
lady, was woefully imposed upon somewhere in Connemara. A priest told
me; a priest you have met." Here the name was given. "He laughed at
the simplicity of this well-meaning benefactor, who was shown nineteen
processes for rent, and who shelled out very liberally at the sight."
"Seventeen of them were old ones! The rent had already been paid. But
whenever an English _gobemouche_ called around out came the old writs
until they were clean worn out. They were a splendid source of income
while they lasted."
This reminded me of a Bodyker, who said:--"A man named Lancashire came
here from Manchester or Birmingham--I think it was Birmingham--and
said he was going into the next Parliament, and that he was a great
friend of Mr. Gladstone. He was very kind, and seemed made of money,
and said he'd make England ring with our wrongs. My son had his name
on a card, but a lawyer in Limerick said the name hadn't got in. I
forget it now. D'ye know anybody, Sorr, of the name of Lancashire
that's a great friend o' Misther Gladstone, an' that lives in
Birmingham, an' that didn't get in?"
These Irish peasants ask more questions than anybody can answer. They
have a keen scent for cash, especially when the coin is in the keeping
of English Gladstonians. They believe with the Claimant that "Sum
folks has branes, and sum folks has money, and them what has money is
made for them what has branes." The Bodyke farmers and the peasantry
of Connemara believe that English Home Rulers have money. Impossible
to escape the natural inference.
Barna (Co. Galway), May 30th.
No. 29.--WHAT RACK-RENT MEANS.
I am disposed to call this quiet inland place a fishing village. The
people not only sell fish and eat fish, but they talk fish, read fish,
think fish, dream fish. The fishing industry keeps the place going.
Anglers swarm hither from every part of the three kingdoms. Last year
there were five fishing Colonels at the Greville Arms all at once.
Brown-faced people who live in the open air, and who are deeply versed
in the mysteries of tackle, cunning in the ways of trout, pike, perch,
and salmon, walk the streets clad in tweed suits, with strong shoes
and knickerbockers. The Mullingar folks despise the dictum of the
American economist who said that every town without a river should buy
one, as they are handy things to have. They boast of three magnificent
lakes, and they look down on the Athlone people, thirty miles away,
with their trumpery Shannon, of which they are so proud, but which the
Mullingar folks will tell you is not worth the paper it is written
on. Lough Owel, five miles long by two or three wide; Lough
Derravarra, six miles by three or four; and Lough Belvidere, eight
miles by three, all of which are in the immediate vicinity, may be
considered a tolerable allowance of fishing water for one country
town. Lough Belvidere, formerly called Lough Ennell, with its
thousands of acres of water, would perhaps meet with the approval of
the Yankee who called the Mediterranean "a nice pond," not for its
size, but for its exceeding beauty. And the most remarkable feature
about the fisher-enthusiasts of Mullingar, is the fact, the undoubted,
well-attested fact, that they actually catch fish. English anglers,
who in response to the inquiries of new arrivals at any Anglican
fishing resort state that they have caught nothing yet, having only
been fishing for a fortnight, will hardly believe that at Mullingar
their countrymen catch fish every day, and big fish too. The lake
trout vary from five to twenty pounds in weight, but the latter are
not often seen. Nine-pounders are reckoned fairly good, but this
weight excites no remark. How big the pike may be I know not, but Mr.
Herring, of London, on Monday last, fishing in Lough Derravarra,
hauled out a specimen which looked more like a shark than a pike. He
weighed over thirty-six pounds, and measured four feet three inches
over all. _Hoc egomet oculis meis vidi._ Birmingham anglers who win
prizes with takes of four-and-a-half ounces would have recoiled in
affright from the monster, even as he lay dead in the entrance hall of
the Greville Arms. Old women stand at the street corners with silver
eels like boa-constrictors, for which they wish to smite the Saxon to
the tune of sixpence each. I vouch for the pike and eels, but confess
to some dubiety _re_ the story of a fat old English gentleman, who
said, "I don't care for fishing for the sake of catching fish. I go
out in a boat, hook a big pike, lash the line to the bow, and let the
beggar tow me about all day. Boating is my delight. Towards evening I
cut my charger loose, and we part with mutual regret. Inexpensive
amusement; more humane than ordinary fishing."
Mullingar is a thriving town situate in a fertile district. The land
is very rich, and the rents are reasonable. The farmers are well off,
and admit the soft impeachment. They are Home Rulers to a man, and
they boldly give their reasons. "Did ye ever know a man who was
contint wid a good bargain when he has a prospect of a better bargain
still?" said a prosperous agriculturist residing a mile outside the
town. The country around has a decidedly English appearance. Fat land,
good roads, high hedges, daisied meadows, and decent houses
everywhere. The main street is long, wide, clean, well-paved,
well-built. The shopkeepers who live in the surrounding district make
money, and when they "go before," cut up for surprising sums. Said Mr.
Gordon, "Everybody here has money. The people are downright well off.
Living in constant communication with Dublin, fifty miles away on the
main line of the Midland and Western Railway, they have adopted the
prevailing politics of the metropolis. They do not understand what
Home Rule means, and they blindly believe that they will do better
still under a Dublin Parliament. I am quite certain of the contrary.
Suppose we want L500 for some improvement, who will lend us the money?
I am satisfied that the prosperity of the place would immediately
decline. The priests influence the people to an extent Englishmen can
never understand. The Protestant clergy do not intervene in mundane
matters, but the Catholic clergy consider it their duty to guide the
people in politics as well as in religion. Given Home Rule,
Protestantism and Protestants would be nowhere. There is no doubt in
my mind on this point."
Mr. Mason said:--"The whole agitation would be knocked on the head by
the introduction of a severe land measure, which would have the effect
of further reducing the rents. No doubt all previous land legislation
has been very severe, and I do not say that a further measure would be
just and equitable. I merely say that the people do not want Home
Rule, but they want the advantages which they are told will accrue
from Home Rule. If the measure is not to benefit them in a pecuniary
sense, then they do not care two straws about it. Do the English
people grasp the present position of landowner and tenant
respectively? Let me state it in a very few words.--
"Formerly the landowner was regarded as the owner of the land. At the
present moment, and without a line of further legislation, the tenant
is the real owner, and not the nominal landlord at all. For owing to
reduction of rent, fixity of tenure, free sale, and the tenant-right,
the tenant is actually more than two-thirds owner. This is a matter of
cash and not of theory, for the tenants' rights are at this moment
worth more than double the fee-simple of the land itself. What will
the Gladstonian party who prate about Rack-rents say to this?"
This seems a suitable opportunity for calling attention to the term
Rack-rents, which in England is almost universally misunderstood.
Separatist speakers invariably use the term as denoting an excessive
rent, an impossible rent--a rent, which is, as it were, extorted by
means of the Rack. The term is purely legal, and denotes a rent paid
by ALL yearly tenants, whether their rent, as a whole, be high or low.
The lowest-rented yearly tenant in the country is paying Rack-rent.
The whole case for the farmers has been obscured and a false issue
raised by the constant use of this term, to which a new meaning has
been given. Another common term is found in the word Head-rent, of
which Gladstonians know no more than of Rack-rent. When Head-rent
comes to be discussed in England we shall have Home Rulers explaining
that the term refers to decapitation of tenants for non-payment of
Rack-rent. This explanation will not present any appreciable departure
from their usual vein. An English Home Ruler who supports Mr.
Gladstone "because his father did," and who first landed in Ireland
yesterday, said, "I do not approve of ascendency. Hang the rights of
property! Give me the rights of intellect. Let us have equality.
Treat the Irish fairly, even generously. They should have equal rights
with Englishmen. Why keep them down by force of bayonets? Live and let
live, that's what I say. Equal laws and equal rights for all."
That is the usual patter of the self-satisfied Separatist, who, having
delivered himself, looks around him with an air which seems to
say--"What a fine fellow I am, how generous, fair, disinterested. Have
I not a noble soul? Did you ever see such magnanimity? Can anybody say
anything against such sentiments? Thank heaven that I am not as other
men, nor even as this Unionist." He is plausible, but no more. The mob
which applauds the hero and hisses the villain of a melodrama pats him
on the back, while he looks upward with his hand on his heart and a
heaven-is-my-home expression in his eye. Put him under the
microscope--he needs it, and you will see him as he is. The platitudes
in which he lives, and moves, and has his being have no foundation in
fact. His talk is grand, but it lacks substance. It is magnificent,
but it is not sense. Listen to what a statesman has said:--
"I have looked in vain for the setting forth of any practical scheme
of policy which the Imperial Parliament is not equal to deal with, and
which it refuses to deal with, and which is to be brought about by
Home Rule."
"There is nothing Ireland has asked, and which this country and this
Parliament has refused. This Parliament has done for Ireland what it
would have scrupled to do for England or Scotland."
"What are the inequalities of England and Ireland? I declare that I
know none, except that there are certain taxes still remaining, which
are levied over Englishmen and Scotchmen, and which are not levied
over Irishmen; and, likewise, that there are certain purposes for
which public money is freely and largely given in Ireland, and for
which it is not given in England and Scotland."
I read this deliverance to my Gladstonian friend, who was staggered to
learn upon incontrovertible evidence, to wit, the printed report of
his speech, that these were the publicly expressed opinions of the
Grand Old Man, whose pandering to Irish opinion as expressed by
outrage dates from the time of the Clerkenwell explosion. That his
conversion to Home Rule is entirely attributable to the endless
murders and atrocities of the Land League, the Invincibles, and other
Fenian organisations, is universally admitted in Ireland by Unionists
and Nationalists alike. And once an Irish Parliament is granted, how
will he resist the demand for Irish independence, for the Irish
Republic affiliated with America? Query--if a given number of murders
were required to bring about Home Rule, how many murders will be
required to effect complete separation? A mere question in arithmetic.
Concurrently with the compulsory withdrawal of the Union Jack
displayed by my friend Mrs. Gibson, of Northern Hotel, Londonderry,
another occurrence, this time in the South, will serve to attest the
progress made by the inventor and patentee of the Union of Hearts.
During the progress of a cricket match on the Killarney Athletic
Grounds, between the clubs of Limerick and Kerry, on Whit-Monday, a
Union Jack was hoisted, not as a political banner, but as an ornament,
and the only banner available for the purpose. It was left flying when
the cricketers went home, but in the morning it lay prone and
dishonoured. The forty-foot spar had been sawn through, and in falling
had smashed the palings. Let a chorus of musical Gladstonians march
through Ireland bearing the Union Jack and singing "God save the
Queen," let them do it, with or without police protection, and I will
gladly watch their progress, record their prowess, and will have great
pleasure in writing their obituary notice. The people, as a whole, are
enemies to England. They are filled with a blind, unreasoning,
implacable resentment for injuries they have never received, their
dislike engendered and sustained by lying priests and selfish
agitators, who are hastening to achieve their ends, alarmed at the
prospect of popular enlightenment, which would for ever hurl them from
power. The opinions of Cardinal Logue have been quoted by Lord
Randolph Churchill. The _Freeman's Journal_ is still more absolute.
Does this sound like the Union of Hearts? Does this give earnest of
final settlement, of unbroken peace and contentment, of eternal
fraternity and friendship? The _Freeman_ says, "We contend that the
good government of Ireland by England is _impossible_, not so much by
reason of natural obstacles, but because of the radical, essential
difference in the public order of the two countries. This, considered
in the abstract, makes a gulf profound, impassible--_an obstacle no
human ingenuity can remove or overcome_."
This promises well for the success of the Home Rule Bill; but why is
the thing "impossible"? Why is the gulf not only profound but also
"impassible"? Why is the good government of Ireland by England
prevented by an obstacle beyond human ability to remove, and which, as
Mr. Gladstone would say, "passes the wit of man." The _Freeman_ has no
objection to tell us. The writer assumes a high moral standpoint,
addressing the eminently respectable and religious Mr. Bull more in
sorrow than in anger, but notwithstanding this, in a style to which
that highly moral and Twenty-shillings-in-the-pound-paying person is
not at all accustomed. The _Freeman_ goes on--
"We find ourselves bound by reason and logic to deny to English
civilisation the glorious title of Christian."
This is distinctly surprising. John always believed himself a
Christian. The natural pain he may be expected to undergo after this
disagreeable discovery is luckily to some extent mitigated by the
information that although England is not Christian, Ireland is
extremely so. The one people (the Irish) "has not only accepted but
retained with inviolable constancy the Christian civilisation;" the
other (the English) "has not only rejected it, but has been for three
centuries the leader of the great apostacy, and is at this day _the
principal obstacle to the conversion of the world_."
Do the English Separatists see daylight now? Will they any longer deny
what all intelligent Irishmen of whatever creed readily admit, namely,
that religion is at the bottom of the Home Rule question? And is not
Mr. Bull surprised to find that after all his missionary collections,
he is without the right balm of Gilead, that his civilisation is not
Christian, and that he is the principal obstacle to the salvation of
the world? Is he not surprised to find that Ireland, with its thousand
and ten thousand tales of horror, its brutal outrages on helpless
women, its chronic incendiarism, its myriads of indecent anonymous
letters addressed to young girls, such as I have seen filed by the
ream in Irish police-stations--Ireland with its moonlighting
atrocities, its barbarous boycotting of helpless children, its
poisoning of wells and water supply, its mutilation of cattle, its
unnumbered foul and cowardly murders, its habitual sheltering and
protection of unspeakable felons--Ireland, one of the few remaining
strongholds of the Catholic faith, has the true Christianity? Ireland
would convert the world, but England stops her. The No-rent manifesto,
the Plan of Campaign, and the Land League were sample productions of
the genuine faith, to say nothing of Horsewhipped Healy, Breeches
O'Brien, and T.D. Sullivan, who composed a eulogy on the murderers of
Police-sergeant Brett, of Manchester (Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien),
High upon the gallows tree
Swung the noble-hearted three.
That is all I can remember, but it may serve to show that Irish
Christianity is the real stingo, and no mistake.
A Mullingaringian who wishes to be nameless desires to know
particulars of the gorging capacity of the average Gladstonian
elector. The particular item that excites his wonder is the letter of
Mr. J.W. Logan, M.P., on Irish rents. Briefly stated, Mr. Logan's
point is this: That notwithstanding the complaints of Irish landlords
they are getting more rent than ever! And he proceeds to adduce
testimony thus: Income-tax valuation in Ireland, on land, in three
years selected by himself stands as follows:--
1861 L8,990,830
1877 L9,937,681
1891 L9,941,368
Then, after showing the amount of increase, he says:--"Rents continue
to rise in Ireland as far as is indicated by the income-tax."
My friend says:--"Mr. Logan is both culpably ignorant and flagrantly
dishonest. He seems incapable of understanding the difference between
an assessment, a mere valuation, and the actual payment of income-tax.
He is dishonest, because he deliberately suppresses the explanation of
the difference between the first and second row of figures. When I saw
the curiously-selected years, I said, why 1861, 1877, and 1891? I knew
there was some thimble-rigging. I looked at the twenty-eighth annual
report of her Majesty's Commissioners, that for 1885, the latest I
have, and behold, the year 1877 had an asterisk! It was the only
starred number on the page. It referred to a foot-note, and that
foot-note read as follows:--
"'_The large difference as compared with prior years is due to the
value of farmhouses having been previously included under the head of
messuages._'
"The land up to '77 was called land, and the farm buildings were
called messuages. But in '77 they began to reckon the buildings as
land, shifting an amount from one column of figures to another. A mere
matter of book-keeping. Mr. Logan writes to the papers for an
explanation which is given in a footnote. He carries his point, for
hundreds of people will follow his figures. Give a lie twenty-four
hours' start and you can never overtake it. Thrice is he armed who
hath his quarrel just, But four times he who gets his blow in fust. I
suppose the Gladstonians claim that the Land Commission reduced rents
by 25 to 30 per cent. But here Mr. Logan is proving that the landlords
are drawing more money than ever! They wish they could believe it.
Valuation is a queer thing. It fluctuates in the most unaccountable
way. What an increase shows is the prosperity of the tenant who is
putting up buildings and making other improvements. Mr. Logan's third
figures show a further increase. Look at the figures in the authorised
Report, not for '77 and '91, but between the two. What do you see
there?"
I looked, and this is what I saw:--
1880 L9,980,543
1881 L9,980,650
1882 L9,980,215
1883 L9,981,156
1884 L9,982,072
1885 L9,982,031
1886 L9,954,535
So that Mr. Logan might have shown from these figures that during the
No-Rent Campaign the landlords were enjoying an untold period of
prosperity, for his chosen year, 1891, shows a _decrease_ as compared
with any one of the seven years above-mentioned. The truth is that the
figures prove nothing in support of Mr. Logan's case, which is based
on fallacy and suppression of material facts. His comparison of 1861
with 1877, without reference to the explanatory footnote, is of itself
sufficient to shoulder him out of court, and stamps him as little more
scrupulous than Father Humphreys, of venerated memory. Mr. Logan's
belief that assessment and tax-paying are one and the same thing is
here regarded as ridiculous, and my friend thinks that if Mr.
Gladstone should impose a tax on Brains, the Grand Old Man's followers
will escape with an easy assessment.
Mullingar (Co. Westmeath), June 1st.
No. 30.--THE "UNION OF HEARTS."
It was strange to hear the tune of "Rule Britannia" in the streets of
Mullingar. The Irish madden at "God Save the Queen," and would make
short work of the performer. It was market day, and the singer was
selling printed sheets of poesy. The old tune was fairly correct, but
the words were strange and sad. "When Britain first at Hell's command
Prepared to cross the Irish main, Thus spake a prophet in our land,
'Mid traitors' scoff and fools' disdain, 'If Britannia cross the
waves, Irish ever shall be slaves.' In vain the warning patriot spoke,
In treach'rous guise Britannia came--Divided, bent us to her yoke,
Till Ireland rose, in Freedom's name, and Britannia boldly braves!
Irish are no longer slaves." The people were too busily engaged in
selling pigs to pay much attention to the minstrel who, however, was
plainly depending on disloyalty for custom. Westmeath was once the
home of Whiteboyism, Ribbonism, Fenianism, and all the other isms
which have successively ruined the country by banishing security; and
a spice of the old leaven still flavours the popular sentiment. "They
may swear as they often did our wretchedness to cure, But we'll never
trust John Bull again nor let his lies allure. No we won't Bull, we
won't Bull, for now nor ever more; For we've hopes on the ocean, we've
trust on the shore. Oh! remember the days when their reign we did
disturb, At Limerick and Thurles, Blackwater and Benburb. And ask this
proud Saxon if our blows he did enjoy When we met him on the
battlefield of France, at Fontenoy. Then we'll up for the green, boys,
and up for the green! Oh! 'tis still in the dust and a shame to be
seen! But we've hearts and we've hands, boys, full strong enough, I
ween, To rescue and to raise again our own unsullied green." A group
of farmers standing hard by paid some attention to this chant, and one
of them, in answer to my inquiry as to how the Union of Hearts was
getting on, chuckled vociferously and said, "Aye, aye, Union iv
Hearts, how are ye? How are ye, Union iv Hearts?" The group joined in
the laugh, and I saw that the joke was an old one.