THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN.
SLIGO.
In all the cabins I enter, the first object that meets my eyes on the
wall, besides a portrait of Parnell or Gladstone, is, enshrined between
the bit of sacred palm and the photograph of the emigrant son, a sheet of
printed paper, sometimes put under a glass, and headed by these words,
“The Plan of Campaign.” This is a summary of the instructions given by
the League to its followers in November, 1886, and of the various means
by which the position may be made untenable by the landlords.
That order of the day of the agrarian army was, however, absent from the
house furniture of one of my friends, Mat Cloney; he was a fisherman on
the Garvogue, near Lough Gill, and close to the ruins of the Abbey of
Sligo; an old man of hale and pleasing countenance, whose weather-beaten
face was shaded by a plenteous crop of gray hair, and lighted up by two
wonderfully bright blue eyes: a true Celt in manner and appearance. When
I entered his cabin for the first time he was engaged in preparing his
dinner; this consisted of a dried herring and a cold potato; but tearing
down from a hook near the fire-place a small piece of bacon, the old man
hastily rubbed it over a frying-pan, which he set on the dying embers; in
it he placed the herring. A great noise and spluttering followed, then
Mat, mindful of future feasts, thriftily hung his piece of bacon back on
its hook, and the herring being done, sat down to his meagre repast.
“You see, sir,” he said contentedly, “it gives it a relish.”
I must not omit to say that poor as his fare was, he nevertheless offered
me a share of it. I explained I had already lunched, and while he was
discussing his meal, we entered into conversation.
“You must be pretty well advanced in years,” I said, “though one would
not think it to see how you manage your boat.”
“_Shure_, sir, I was _borren_ in the _Ribillion_!”
Let me here observe that this is the common answer given by many Irish
peasants as to their age. The “Ribillion” seems to have made an epoch in
their history, and they consider that any person over middle age must
have been born during that momentous period. The date appears to matter
little to them. So, though I entertained private doubts of Cloney’s being
89 years old, I let that pass, and we went on talking.
“Have you any children?”
“_Shire_ I have!... Me sons they are fishermen, and me daughters are all
marr’d, near here....”
“And you live alone?”
“Yes, sir, that I do.”
“It must be a lonely life for you. Were you never tempted to marry again
after your wife’s death? A fine man like you would have had no difficulty
in finding a wife.”
“Och, sir, after me ould woman died ... (with a burst of emotion) I
always remained a _dacent widowman_ ... that I did!...”
While we were talking I had been looking at the walls of the cabin, and I
was surprised at finding none of the usual League’s documents upon them.
I turned to Mat and expressed my surprise. Instantly Mat let fall the
knife with which he was conveying a piece of herring to his mouth, and
burst into loud execrations.
“Och! the b⸺ villains!” he exclaimed; “the dirty never-do-well wh⸺! the
de’il take them for his own! ... the whole lot is not worth a pennyworth
o’ salt; ... etc., etc.”
I confess I rather wondered at this violence. But as everyone has a
perfect right to his own opinion, I did not press the point.
“And you, sir, you be not English, are ye?” said Mat after a moment. He
had suddenly grown calm again.
“No, I am French.”
“Och! _Shure_ the French are foine fellows. I had an uncle that fought
the French for three days at Badajos, and he always said they were b⸺y
devils, ... begging your pardon, sir, foine fellows they were.... Me
uncle always said so, ... under _Bonney_ the French fought, ... b⸺d ...
foine fellows, to be sure.... Me uncle also said they had no landlords
down there. Now, is that true, sir?” added Mat Cloney, looking at me with
a queer expression of countenance.
No landlords? could that be true? He seemed to consider such a state of
things suited to fairy-land.
I explained that this was pure truth. In few words I told him how,
shortly before the _Ribillion_ dear to his heart, the French peasants had
risen as one man to get rid of their own landlords; how those landlords
had for the most part emigrated and taken up arms against their country,
which had caused the confiscation and sale of their lands. I added that
those lands were now the property of the French labourers, who highly
appreciate this state of affairs.
Mat Cloney listened to me, his eyes glistening with interest. Therefore,
I was rather surprised when I stopped, and he abruptly asked me, as a
conclusion:
“Do you know any of those Sligo gentlemen who come fishing about here,
sir?”
“Indeed, I do not. I am a total stranger in these parts. It was the
manager at my hotel who sent me to you.”
“That’s roight!” he exclaimed, as if relieved from some anxiety. “In that
case, sir, I am going to show you something!...”
He went to a corner of the cabin, and after some rummaging in an old
sailor’s box, he produced from it a neatly folded paper which he placed
into my hands. I opened it with some curiosity.
It was a supplementary sheet of the _United Ireland_, of Dublin, where
stood _in extenso_ the League’s Plan of Campaign.
I looked at Mat Cloney. He was laughing silently. I at last understood
the riddle. The sly fox was at heart with the League (he dubbed it _the
Leg_; by the way, like many other Irishmen); but he judged it prudent in
any case to dissemble such subversive feelings, when he had to do with an
unknown person from the town; and being a peasant he rather overdid it.
The ice was broken now. He let me study thoroughly the document he had
lent me, and even enriched it with luminous commentaries, in the course
of a pleasant day’s fishing.
* * * * *
The “Plan of Campaign” seems to have had for its father Mr. John Dillon,
one of the most universally, and the most deservedly, popular of the
Irish members; at all events, it was introduced to the public by that
gentleman in October, 1886, at an autumn meeting. Those mass meetings,
held every year after the harvest, have now become an institution, a
kind of _Witena-gemot_ of the Irish nation. People come to them from
the farthest ends of the island, by rail, in jaunting-cars, on foot,
on horseback, as the case may be; in such numbers that there is no
room or shanty large enough in the country to lodge the assemblage. So
they are open-air meetings. The particular one alluded to was convened
at Woodford, which has become, since the memorable battle on the
Clanricarde estate, a kind of Holy Place and agrarian Kaaba. Soon after
the autumn meeting, the scheme was approved by the authorities, at the
head-quarters of the League (although they prudently refrained from
committing themselves officially to it), and expounded in the special
supplement to the _United Ireland_, of which I hold a copy. It was to the
following effect:—
Present rents, speaking roundly, are impossible. That the
landlords will press for them is certain. A fight for the
coming winter is therefore inevitable, and it behoves the
Irish tenantry to fight with a skill begotten by experience.
The first question they have to consider is how to meet the
November demand. Should combinations be formed on the lines of
branches of the National League, or merely by estates? We say
_by estates_ decidedly. Let branches of the National League,
if they will, take the initiative in getting the tenantry on
each estate to meet one another. But it should be distinctly
understood that the action or resolution of one estate was not
to bind any other, and the tenantry on every estate should be
free to decide upon their own course.
When they are assembled together, let them appoint an
intelligent and sturdy member of their body as chairman,
and, after consulting, decide by resolution on the amount of
abatement they will demand. A committee consisting, say, of
six and the chairman, should then be elected, to be called a
Managing Committee, and to take charge of the half-year’s rent
of the tenant, should the landlord refuse it.
Everyone should pledge himself (1) to abide by the decision of
the majority; (2) to hold no communication with the landlord
or any of his agents, except in presence of the body of the
tenantry; (3) to accept no settlement for himself which is not
given to every tenant on the estate.
On the rent-day, the tenantry should proceed to the rent-office
in a body. If the agent refuses to see them in a body, they
should on no account confer with him individually, but depute
the chairman to act as their spokesman and acquaint them of
the reduction which they require. No offer to accept the rent
“on account” should be agreed to. Should the agent refuse,
then EVERY TENANT MUST HAND TO THE MANAGING COMMITTEE THE
HALF-YEAR’S RENT WHICH HE TENDERED TO THE AGENT.
To prevent any attempt at a garnishee, this money should be
deposited by the Managing Committee with some one reliable
person, _whose name would not be known to any but the members
of the committee_.
This may be called the estate fund, and it should be absolutely
at the disposal of the Managing Committee for the purposes
of the fight. Broken tenants who are unable to contribute
the reduced half-year’s rent should at least contribute the
percentage demanded from the landlord, that is the difference
between the rent demanded and that which the tenantry offer
to pay. A broken tenant is not likely to be among the first
proceeded against, and no risk is incurred by the general body
in taking him on these terms.
Thus, practically a half-year’s rent of the estate is put
together to fight the landlord with. This is a fund which,
if properly utilised, will reduce to reason any landlord in
Ireland.
How should the fund be employed? The answer to this question
must to some extent depend upon the course the landlord will
pursue; but in general we should say it must be devoted to the
support of the tenants who are dispossessed either by sale or
ejectment.
It should be distributed by the committee to each evicted
tenant in the proportion of his contribution to the fund. A
half-year’s rent is supposed to maintain a tenant for a half
year, and based upon this calculation, a tenant who funded say
£50 would be entitled when evicted to receive £2 per week.
_But not one penny should go in law costs._ This should be made
an absolute rule. For to pay law costs, such as attorney’s
letters, writs and judgments incurred by the landlord, is to
arm your enemy for the quarrel and furnish him with provisions
to boot. In a determined fight there are no “law costs” on
the side of the tenantry, and they should remain out for ever
rather than pay those which the landlord incurs in fleecing
them.
Ejectment is the most common of the landlord’s remedies. Every
legal and constitutional obstacle which could oppose or delay
eviction should be had recourse to, for every hour by which the
sheriff is delayed in one eviction gives another brother tenant
so much more grace. There are only 310 days in the sheriff’s
year, and he must do all the evictions in a whole county within
the time.
If, after eviction, a tenant is re-admitted as caretaker he
should go in, but _never_ upon the understanding that he would
care any other farm but his own. Should the tenant not be
re-admitted, shelter must be procured for him immediately by
the Managing Committee, and then, if necessary, a day appointed
when all would assemble to build him a hut on some spot
convenient to the farm where the landlord could not disturb
him. Wooden huts, such as those supplied by the League, waste
too much of the funds and become valueless when the tenant is
re-admitted.
Sale is the resort of the landlord when he proceeds by writ
or process as an ordinary creditor. From eight to twelve days
are allowed after service of the writ before judgment can be
marked. The sheriff may seize cattle if he finds them on the
farm, or he may seize and sell the tenant’s interest in the
farm. A tenant who has his mind made up for the fight will
have his cattle turned into money before the judgment comes
on. Every tenant who neglects to dispose of them is preparing
himself to accept the landlord’s terms, for he will not wish
to see the emergency men profit by taking his cattle at some
nominal price, and if he buys he is in reality handing the
landlord the amount of his demand. Sale of a farm is not of so
much consequence. Every farm sold in this manner during the
agitation either has come or is bound to come back to its owner
even on better terms than he first held it. But if a man has
a very valuable interest in his farm, he can place it beyond
the sheriff’s power by mortgaging it to some one to whom he
owes money. Mortgage effected thus for a _bonâ fide_ debt or
consideration bars the sheriff’s power of conveyance at a sale.
If the landlord or emergency men be represented, the cattle
should not be allowed to go at a nominal sum. They should be
run up to their price, and, if possible, left in the hands of
emergency men at full price. It should be borne in mind that if
the full price be not realised the sheriff could seize again
for the balance.
In bidding for a farm it should also be run to amount of debt,
but by a man of straw, or some one who, if it were knocked
down, would ask the sheriff for time to pay. By making the
landlord’s bidder run it up to the amount of debt and costs,
and leaving it on his hands, the sheriff cannot follow the
tenant further. No auction fees should be allowed. A farm held
on a lease for a life or lives, any one of which is extant,
cannot be sold by the sheriff. After sale a tenant is still
in possession of holding until a fresh writ is served and a
judgment for title marked against him. All this involves the
landlord in fresh costs. The eviction may then follow, and the
observations above recorded in case of ejectment or eviction
apply here.
Distress, another of the landlord’s remedies, cannot be
resorted to for more than one year’s rent. Few landlords can
have recourse to this without exposing themselves to actions.
The chief points to attend to are:—That distress must be made
by landlord or known agent, or bailiff authorized by warrant
signed by the landlord or known agent; that particulars of
distress be served; seizure on Sunday is unlawful; seizure
before sunrise or after sunset is unlawful; or for any rent
due more than one year. Distress is illegal if growing crops
be seized, or the implements of a man’s trade; and if other
property be on farm to ensure landlord’s demand, it is
illegal to seize beasts of the plough, sheep, or implements
of husbandry necessary for the cultivation of the land. These
points should be carefully watched when landlord has recourse
to distress.
Bankruptcy proceedings are too costly a machinery for general
use, and no landlord is likely to have recourse to them.
It is unnecessary to add that landlords, and their partisans on
the magisterial bench and among the Crown officials, will do
all in their power to twist the operation of the law so as to
harass the tenants.
A tenant taking possession of his house to shelter his family
from the severity of the winter is not likely to escape. A
summons for trespass must be preceded by a warning to the
tenant if he be found in possession. We have known a case where
the father complied with this warning, and on the bailiff’s
next visit the mother only was found, and she complied. Next
time the eldest daughter only was in possession, and so on
through the length of a long family, such as an evicted tenant
nearly always has. A goodly time had been saved before the
father’s turn came again. He was fined and went to gaol. The
prison then lost its terror for him. When he came out he stuck
boldly to his home, and he soon won the victory which rewards
determination.
* * * * *
The fullest publicity should be given to evictions, and every
effort made to enlist public sympathy. That the farms thus
unjustly evicted will be left severally alone, and everyone
who aids the eviction shunned, is scarcely necessary to say.
But the man who tries boycotting for a personal purpose is a
worse enemy than the evicting landlord, and should be expelled
from any branch of the League or combination of tenants. No
landlord should get one penny rent on any part of his estates,
wherever situated, so long as he has one tenant unjustly
evicted. This policy strikes not only at the landlord but the
whole ungodly crew of agents, attorneys, and bum-bailiffs.
Tenants should be the first to show their sympathy with
one another, and prompt publicity should be given to every
eviction, that the tenants of the evictor wherever he holds
property may show their sympathy.
Such a policy indicates a fight which has no half-heartedness
about it, and it is the only fight which will win.
Well may the author of the “Plan of Campaign” wind up his catechism by
the appropriate remark that “such a policy indicates a fight which has no
half-heartedness about it.” Never before was such a tremendous weapon of
social war put in motion. Never before, in the whole course of history,
was such a forcible ultimatum drafted for the consideration of the
adverse party.
Leaving details aside, and the minute instructions on the true mode of
skirmishing with the myrmidons of the law, the idea of using the very
rent claimed by the landlord as a provision for feeding the struggle
against him is in itself perfection—a real masterpiece of strategy. An
artist can only feel the warmest admiration for such a combination of
everything that is most pleasant to the heart of the agrarian warrior
and most deadly to the landlord’s cause. As an orator of the League (Mr.
W. O’Brien) has put it: “We have discovered a weapon against landlordism,
the mere threat and terror of which have already brought down
rack-renters to their knees. We have discovered a weapon which feudal
landlordism can no more resist than a suit of armour of the middle ages
can resist modern artillery.” And the country where such an admirable
paper has been penned by its political leaders is supposed by its foes to
be unable to rule its own affairs! This is unfairness with a vengeance.
Let those meet its provisions, since they are so very clever.
The wonder, however, is not that such a policy should have been dreamed
of. Similar plans of warfare have more than once been drawn out in the
council chamber of parties. The wonder is that this one should have been
deemed practicable by the farmers of Ireland; that it should have been
unanimously accepted by them; and, what is more, put at once into effect.
Another wonder is that it should have been found _lawful_, on the best
legal authority, and that it should have remained unopposed by the “Four
Courts” and “the Castle.” The greatest wonder of all is that it should
have enlisted the warm and public support not only of the lower ranks of
the clergy all over the island, but of the Episcopate itself; not only
of the Episcopate but of the Pope, since neither his special envoy in
Ireland nor his Holiness personally in any encyclical letter, have spoken
one word in condemnation of the “Plan of Campaign.”
It has been in operation now for over one year; it has spread as far
as the leaders of the League have deemed it expedient, for thus far
they seem to have used it only moderately. “We did not desire,” they
say, “and we do not desire now that the ‘Plan of Campaign’ should be
adopted anywhere, except where the tenants have a just and moderate and
unimpeachable case.” But, none the less, it hangs as a formidable threat
over the heads of the doomed landlords. At a moment’s notice it may be
extended to the whole island, as it has been already to some hundred
estates in twenty-two counties.
An idea of the state of affairs may be gathered from the account given by
the _Freeman’s Journal_ (December 3, 1886) of the scene witnessed on Lord
de Freyne’s property in county Sligo. His tenants asked for an abatement
of 20 per cent., and, being refused, they decided to adopt the “Plan of
Campaign.”
There is nothing in the nature of a town or even a village
at Kilfree Junction, there being only two or three one-story
thatched cottages within sight of it. In one of these, the
nearest to the station, the rents were received by Mr. William
Redmond, M.P.; the Rev. Canon O’Donoghue, D.D.; Rev. Father
Henry, C.C.; and the Rev. Father Filan, C.C. The operations of
receiving the rents, entering amounts, and giving receipts to
the tenants occupied the greater part of the day, commencing
in early morning and continuing far in the afternoon. Although
the situation was rather a depressing one for the poor people
exposed to all the severity of the elements, they seemed
to be one and all animated by the greatest enthusiasm. The
interior of the cottage in which the rents were being collected
presented a spectacle really unique in its way. The first room,
a sort of combination of kitchen, sitting-room, and shop, was
crowded almost to suffocation by men and a few women, who were
sheltering from the snow which fell in great white flakes
without. There was no grate, but a few turf sods burned on
the hearth, while above them hung a kettle, suspended from an
iron hook fixed from the quaint old chimney. In the centre of
the bedroom leading off the apartment was a small table, at
which Mr. Redmond, M.P., the clergymen whose names are given
above, and one of the leading members of the local branch of
the National League were seated receiving the tenants’ rents.
The room was densely crowded, but the utmost order and decorum
prevailed, and the whole proceedings were conducted in the most
punctilious and business-like manner.
The tenant handed the money to one of the gentlemen at the
table, his name was duly entered with the amount paid by him
into a book, and he was handed back a printed receipt for the
amount which he had lodged.
As the day wore on, the pile of bank notes upon the table
mounted higher and higher, and the rows of glistening
sovereigns grew longer and longer, until they stretched across
the table like streams of yellow ore. It was difficult to
realise how those bleak western plains had ever produced so
much money, and the conviction seemed to force itself upon the
mind that a considerable part of it had either been earned by
work across the Channel, or in remittances from friends and
relations on the other side of the broad Atlantic.
“Father,” exclaimed one of the younger men, pushing excitedly
his aged parent into the room where the rents were being paid
over, “come along; you have lived to strike a blow for freedom
and Ireland.” The words were uttered with earnestness and
enthusiasm. There are upwards of 300 tenants upon this estate
alone who have adopted the “Plan,” and a further sitting will
be necessary in order to receive the remaining lodgments.
A couple of policemen, who looked chilled and spiritless,
walked about the platform, but made no attempt to interfere
with the proceedings.
It would be useless to add the least comment to such a picture. When
similar scenes are witnessed everywhere over a country, and accepted by
every one as the natural consummation of events, and the law is impotent
to prevent them, the Revolution is not impending—it is practically
accomplished in the mind of all classes.