I Pondered A Little Way Over The Man's Remarks Who Had Been Our Guide
Through The Demesne.
He always kept repeating that we might have been
shown the gardens and the house, but for the disturbance
In the country.
I wondered to hear hints of trouble on this estate, for no man, woman or
child, with whom I conversed, but spoke highly of the generosity,
magnanimity and kindliness of Lord Ardilaun, and his father before him.
I have seen in his lordship's own writing and over his signature the
statement that, during prosperous years, even, the rent has not been
raised, that he had for years spent on his property more than double the
rental in improvements and for labor. When I read this I thought of the
causeway raised along the brow of a hill over which I walked in the
demesne, I thought at the time what an amount of labor was expended to
place it there. There has also been made an addition to the castle,
which must have given a great deal of employment. Some, or rather a
great deal of the property was bought from the late Earl of Leitrim, who
had raised the rents, it is asserted, to the "highest top sparkle"
before selling, to enhance the value.
I do not know anything of the value of land here; it is very stony land.
I was pointed out a field which was not very stony, comparatively
speaking, but still had more stones, or stony crust rather, than a good
farmer would desire. I was told it paid L2 per acre. I wonder how it is
possible to raise rent and taxes off these fields, never to mention
support for the farmers. The land requires very stimulating manure to
produce a crop. When bad years come, and render the tenant farmers
unable to purchase guano, the crops are worthless almost. The necessity
of buying artificial manure is a terrible necessity that American
farmers know nothing of.
I dare say the tenants expect too much in many instances, for they are
accustomed to be treated as children in leading strings. The amount of
dependence on this one and that one in superior stations is very
wonderful, but their utter helplessness to take the first step toward
better times is also wonderful. I have heard of men, by the last bad
seasons unable to buy guano, having to strip the roofs off their houses
that the rain may wash off the soot into the land to fructify it. On
account of shelter for game, it is not permissible to cut heather for
bedding, for stock, or covering for houses. Breaking this prohibition
even on land for which they pay rent and taxes is, they complain,
punished with fines of from two and sixpence to seven and sixpence for
as much as could be carried on the back.
For a farmer to get on here he must be able to buy manure. The crop on a
farm has to pay rent, which is high, and taxes, which are heavy, even if
no guard for somebody has to be paid for, or no malicious outrage is
levied for on the county in compensation, and manure, which, if got
before paying, is charged, I am told, twenty-five percent additional for
waiting; all this must be met before the support of the family can be
thought of beyond merely existing. The more one looks at the want of the
people, the more one becomes bewildered with the perplexities of the
situation, and the more hopeless about the setting of things right by
the Land Bill or anything else.
It is pleasant to hear on all sides praises of Lord Ardilaun as a high-
spirited, generous man. The slight difference of opinion between him and
his people is blamed on the fact of his not being able to understand how
poor the tenants are, or how what is little in his eyes may be life or
death to them. There was some trouble, I believe, about the building of
a causeway across to some sacred island, which was built by the people
without leave asked, or in spite of prohibition given; but in the main I
think that Lord Ardilaun is very much loved.
How it does rain in this green land. I think it rained every day of the
days I remained at Cong except the blink of sunshine that shone on the
castle and grounds the day that I went over part of the Ashford
_demesne_.
At Cong, for the first time in my life, I heard the Irish lament or
caoine for the dead. Some one was brought in from the country to be
buried in the Abbey of Cong. It was a simple country funeral. The dead
was borne on one of the carts of the country, followed by the neighbors,
and accompanied by the parish priest of Cong. The day was very wet even
for Ireland. After the burial service was over the women, kneeling by
the new made grave, among the rank wet grass, and the dripping ivy,
raised the caoine. It was a most unearthly sound, sweet like singing,
sad like crying, rising up among the ruined towers, and clinging ivy and
floating up heavenwards. I believe the stories of banshees must have
arisen from the sound of the caoine. These mourning women were very
skilful, I was told, and were relations of the dead whom they mourned,
and whose good qualities mingled with their love and grief rose in
wailing cry and floated weirdly over the ruins and up to the clouds.
I had at this time an invitation from Mr. Sydney Bellingham to come over
to Castle Bellingham to see life from another standpoint. I was standing
at the window debating with myself. I did not like to leave the West
before seeing a little more of it, and I do want, in the interests of
truth, to look at things from every available standpoint.
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