We drove past the residence where Captain Boycott lived, a fine spacious
house finished in plaster to imitate stone. The grounds near the house
were nicely laid out, but that is the universal rule in Ireland. Drove
through a gateway into the yard. In a stable loft in the yard some
policemen were lodged. The driver hallooed at them, and one came down
the stone steps to see what protective duty was asked of him. I asked
him to show me the ruins, and he complied in the kindest manner. Across
the barnyard and through a shed we made our way into the castle ruins.
There are many nooks and crannies, as is the case in these ancient ruins
generally, but the main body of the castle was divided into two large
apartments, with the roof on the floor of course. I noticed the track of
recent fire along the old walls. He said it was made by the officers who
were down there on protective service for Capt. Boycott. They had one
apartment and cooked there, and the police the other. These quarters
open to the sky, and having stones on the floor, did not look
comfortable.
We went up the circular stairs to the ramparts at the top. There is a
walk round the top behind the battlements. Looking down at the remains
of a fireplace in what was a lofty second story, my guide told me there
was a name and a date there. The name Fitzgerald, I forget the date; so
this must have been one of the Geraldine castles.
There is a fine view from the battlements. Lough Mask, which is very
shallow here, a little water and a great many stones overtopping it in
profusion, lies before us, and an extensive country, partly fertile, in
round hills and green valleys, partly crusted over with stones.
A policeman, not my guide on this occasion, told me, illustrative of the
disposition of Captain Boycott, that the hut in which the police were
sheltered was very damp - water, in fact, was running on the floor under
their bed. They had a small coal stove, and on the coal becoming
exhausted before they got a further supply, one of the men being down
sick, they ventured to ask Captain Boycott for the loan of a lump or two
of coal to keep their stove going till their supplies were received, and
he refused them. They were obliged to protect his ass and water cart
down into the lake to draw water from out beyond the edge where the
water was deep, and, therefore, could be dipped up clean. He would not
allow them to get any of the water for their own use after it was drawn,
or lend them the ass to draw for themselves. They had either to wade out
in the lake or dip up as they could at the edge. I made a slight mistake
in saying that the castle was entirely roofless; there was part of an
arched roof where the fire had been. I asked the policeman if they had
any night patrol duty now. Oh, yes, he said, we patrol every night,
although we never see anything worse than ourselves.
Left Lough Mask, its castled ruins and modern mansion behind us, and
drove through the gates again. I felt convinced that the people were not
filled with an unreasoning hate against Captain Boycott. They thought
they had reason, deep reason, and they scrupulously excepted Mrs.
Boycott from any censure bestowed on him.
Along the road we drove, until from an eminence we could see Lough Mask
in its beauty, with its bays and islands spread out beneath us. This
view gave us a part of the Lough where the water covers the stones. This
particular evening the water was as calm as a mirror and as blue as the
sky above it, and the trees on the hills and bays around it in their
greenness and leafiness, round-headed and massive, were all bathed in
sunlight. We came to fields a little more barren-looking, where bare
stone fences took the place of the rich hedgerows, turned up a road that
lay between these stony ramparts, and drove along for a little time.
I was wondering in my own mind about Captain Boycott. Did he, in his own
consciousness, think he was doing right in his system of fines? He knew
how small and miserable the wages were: he knew of the poor, comfortless
homes and the "smidrie o' wee duddy weans" that depended on the poor
pennies the father brought home; he knew that he came out well fed and
leisurely to find fault with a peasant who was working with a sense of
goneness about the stomach. Did he think that increasing the hunger pain
would make him more thoughtful, more orderly? Would he have done better
if he had been suddenly brought to change places with his serf? If he
could not help fining the people until he fined off the most of their
wages, were they to blame for refusing to work for him? Was the
Government right in taking his part when it had neither eye nor ear for
his people's complaint? I was questioning with myself in this helpless
fashion, when I heard my driver inquire in Irish of a bare-footed
country girl if we were near the spot where Lord Mountmorris was
murdered.
This question, and the surprise with which I became aware that I
understood it, made me forget Captain Boycott for the time being and
wake up to the present time. We had stopped our car and were waiting on
the girl's answer, which she seemed in no hurry to give. At length
lifting a small stone she threw it on the road a car's length behind us,
answering in Irish that there was the spot where he was found.
