Pleasant to the eye.
Along one side is a hedge eight feet high of fuschia growing thus in the
open air, proving that it is possible to turn sheltered spots of barren
Achill into nooks suggestive of Eden.
The little church to which this romantic path brought us was such a
church as one might snuggle down in to learn the way to Zion, and enjoy
the comfort of the old, old story. This mission was begun by the Rev.
Edward Naugh, I believe, in the famine time. It invaded the island with
bread and the Bible. I hear that it has done much good, chiefly, I
believe, in educating and emigrating the people.
The village of the mission opposite the rectory has two schools, an inn
or hotel, a co-operative store, a post-office, some dwellings of
coastguard's men and other official and semi-official people, the agent
over the mission property for one. A little further away on the sea
sands is a miserable collection of cabins inhabited by the people. There
were some poor-looking farmhouses dotting the mountain side.
As far as I could learn there was no industry on Achill Island but
tilling their miserable crofts. The fishing was monopolized by one man,
a Mr. Hector, a Scotchman. The people as far as I could learn had no
boats fitted for deep sea fishing and the coast fishing was monopolized.
They are said to be lazy, unthrifty, unenergetic. I enquired a little
about this and it seemed to me as if there was a door locked and barred
between them and any field for the display of energy with hope - without
an atmosphere of hope, energy is a plant that will not thrive. It is
hope, and nothing but hope, that nerves the backwoods settler of Canada
to do battle with summer heat and winter snow, with the inexorable logic
of circumstances, and he conquers because he has hope. Over every
peasant holding in Ireland of the western part there is written, "Here
is no hope." The superior mind looks upon the peasantry as minors who
are not able to judge for themselves, who need to be tied down with
office rules, and held in by proprietory bit and bridle. They admit,
that they do well in the free air of Canada, but they contend that
thrift, forethought, frugality is produced in them by desperation. I see
desperation all round here producing a recklessness and despair. I know
that hope is the star that shines for the backwoods Canadian to light
him to competence.
I did not see any of the mission tenants in Achill. I saw nothing but
what lay on the surface. I have no doubt that the mission has done good
in many ways, great good. I am sorry, however, that they lost the
opportunity of testing the capabilities of the islanders to flourish as
peasant proprietors; it is not always well for the church to have
vineyards and oliveyards, manservants and maidservants. It is well
sometimes for the church to come down like her Master and to be
alongside of the discouraged mortal who has toiled through a lifetime
and caught nothing but hunger and rags, to share with them the toil and
want.
XL.
REMEMBRANCES OF THE GREAT FAMINE - THE "PLANTED" SCOTCH FARMERS - A
BEAUTIFUL EDIFICE.
On my return from Achill Island I decided that I would not take another
post car drive to Ballycroy, and returned to Mulraney again along the
same road in the shadow of the mountains. On to Newport we drove, back
over the road winding along the side of Clew Bay, and across the head of
the bay through the lonely country leading back to Westport.
The driver, a weather-beaten man in a weather-worn drab coat,
entertained me with tales of the clearances made in the famine time that
left the country side so empty. It is hard to believe that ever human
beings were so cruel to other human beings in this Christian land, and
that it passed unknown, or comparatively unknown, to the rest of the
world.
This man told, with a certain grim satisfaction, of what he called God's
judgments which had fallen on "exterminators." The common people of the
West have a firm belief that God is on their side, no matter what
trouble he allows to come over them. "Sure I do feel my heart afire,
when gintlemen sit on my car driving through this loneliness an' talk of
over-population. Over-population! and the country empty!" I wish I could
remember all this old man said, but I can only recall snatches here and
there.
It is most amazing to think that, when the world at large was sending
help to save the Irish people alive in the awful visitation, so many
were throwing their tenants out on the road to die. And these people had
by hard toil won a living here and paid rent. Every rood of this land,
every cabin had helped to swell princely revenues, until the finger of
God came down in famine, and then, when the revenue stopped, there was
no pity, and it seemed to these poor people that there was no one that
regarded them. I do not wish to ever come to that time of life when I
can hear of the scenes that wasted this country without feeling a
passion of sorrow and regret.
I spoke of these things to a worthy gentleman resident in another part
of the country and he brushed it aside as if it were a fly, saying, "Oh,
that is long past, thirty years and more." Memory is very strong among
people who seem to have little to look forward to - the past seems the
principal outlook.
