It is easy to stand afar off and say, be
economical, be industrious, and you will prosper. In the meantime pay up
the back rent or get out of this and give place to better men. They tell
me that Mr. LaTouche charges the poor creatures interest on all the back
rent. Some who have paid their rent here did not - could not - raise it on
their farms, but got it from friends in America.
Mr. Corscadden asked me in the course of our conversation what I would
consider a fair rent. I said I would consider the rent fair that was
raised on the land for which rent was paid, leaving behind enough to
live on, and something to spare, so that one bad season or two would not
reduce the tenant to beggary.
The fact of the matter is, and I would be false to my own conscience if
I hesitated to say it, these people have been kept drained bare; the
hard years reduced them to helpless poverty, and now the only remedy is
to get rid of them altogether. The price of these military and police,
the price of these special services rendered to unpopular landlords to
aid them in grinding down these wretched people, spent to help them
would go far to make prosperity possible to them once more. If they had
a rent they could pay and live, the millstone of arrears taken from
about their necks, I believe they would become both loyal and contented.
Empty stomachs, bare clothing, lying hard and cold at night through
poverty is trying to loyalty.
The turbary nuisance is the great oppression of all. Want of food is
bad, but want of fuel added to it! Forty years ago renting land meant
getting a bit of bog in with the land. When there is a special charge
for the privilege of cutting turf and the times so hard there is much
additional suffering.
In the famine time people getting relief had to travel for the ticket,
travel to get the meal, and then go to gather whins or heather on the
hills to cook it, and the hungry children waiting all the time. A
respectable person said to me the famine was worst on respectable
people, for looking for the red ticket and carrying it to get meal by it
was like the pains of death.
Wherever I went through Leitrim I saw people, scattered here and there,
gathering twigs for fuel or coming toward home with their burden of
twigs on their backs. I declare I thought often of the Israelites
scattered through the fields of Egypt gathering stubble instead of
straw. A tenant who objects to anything, who is not properly obedient
and respectful, can have the screw turned upon him about the turf as
well as about the rent.
XXVIII.
THE MANOR HAMILTON WORKHOUSE - TO THE SOUTH AND WESTWARD - A CHANGE OF
SCENERY - LORD PALMERSTON.
Before leaving Manor Hamilton, I determined to see the poor-house, the
last shelter for the evicted people. I was informed that it was
conducted in a very economical manner. It is on the outskirts of the
town. On my way there I went up a little hill to look at a picturesque
Episcopalian church perched up there amid the trees, surrounded by a
pretty, well-kept burying-ground. The church walls were ornamented with
memorial slabs set in the wall commemorating people whose remains were
not buried there. A pretty cottage stood by the gate, at the door of
which a decent-looking woman sat sewing. I addressed a few questions to
her as to the name of the pastor, the size of his flock, &c. Her answers
were guarded - very.
I made my way down the hill, and over to the workhouse. The grounds
before the entrance were not laid out with the taste observable at
Enniskillen. Perhaps they had not a professional gardener among their
inmates. At the entrance a person was leaning against the door in an
easy attitude. I enquired if I might be allowed to see through the
workhouse. He answered by asking what my business was. I informed him
that I was correspondent for a Canadian newspaper. He then enquired if
the paper I wrote for was a Conservative paper. I replied that I would
not describe it as a Conservative paper, but as a religious paper. He
then said the matron was not at home, and I prepared to leave. I
enquired first if he was the master. He replied in the affirmative, and
then said he would get the porter to show me round. "You will show her
through," he said, to a stout, heavy person sitting in the entry.
This gentleman, who brought to my mind the estimable Jeremiah
Flintwinch, accordingly showed me through the building. We passed the
closed doors of the casual ward, where intending inmates were examined
for admittance, and casuals were lodged for the night. Every door was
unlocked to admit us and carefully locked behind us, conveying an idea
of very prison-like administration. The able-bodied were at work, I
suppose, for few were visible except women who were nursing children.
There was a large number of patients in the infirmary wards. One man
whose bed was on the floor was evidently very near the gate we all must
enter. He never opened his eyes or seemed conscious of the presence of a
stranger. I noticed a little boy lift the poor head to place it easier.
I saw no one whom I could imagine was a nurse.
