The Irish peasant; a sociological study

Front matter

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OPINIONS OP THE PRESS

OX THE

Preface

IN the following pages are to be found the personal experiences of one who led the life herein described. There are few persons in whom th£ spirit of inquiry is so strong as to suffer much hardship in order to get to the bottom of a commonplace subject. This, it may be truthfully stated, has been done. Perhaps it may furthermore be found that the subject is not so commonplace as it seems at first sight. Much that is unknown, or little known by the world at large, is to be found in these pages, so that in one sense, at least, they will not be commonplace. And in another sense they will be found somewhat uncommon, in that they contain the results of the observations of a man of unbiased views, He was a real person, anxious only to x PREFACE.

discover the truth as to a matter in which he felt a deep interest. Indeed, its truthfulness and freedom from prejudice must form the editor's best excuse for the publication of this autobiography.

The book also contains some useful information about matters of present public interest. For such there is a great need just now; party spirit runs high, and few writers or speakers can be looked on as being unprejudiced. Whatever the shortcomings of this part of the book may be, it is at least written in an impartial spirit. It may be added that the facts and figures are from the best sources, and are capable of

proof.

THE EDITOR.

Contents

CHAP. KAGE

I. INTRODUCTORY - ... !

II. RACES WHICH HAVE SETTLED IN IRELAND - - 2O

Chapter I. Introductory

I WAS born in London, where my father had a house in an old-fashioned and highly respectable square. In due course, I was sent to that ancient university which has turned out so many great divines, statesmen, and men of thought. At the university, I took part in most movements of the day, particularly in those of a philosophical nature, and, having taken a respectable degree, returned to my home. I was not long there until my father died. This was a heavy blow. My mother had long gone before, and I had neither brother nor sister. I was quite alone in the world, and free to do as I liked. My father had been a man of considerable property, all of which had been left to me ; part of it was in Ireland, a country in which my mother had been born. I felt puzzled to know where to turn. I could not live on in the gloomy, old house alone. But whither should I go ? Suddenly the thought struck me, " Why not go to

THE IRISH PEASANT.

Ireland ? " it is a beautiful country, now much talked of, and a great field for the friend of progress. I soon acted on my idea, let my house for a term of years, and sailed for Ireland.

After a voyage of several hours in a steamer, I landed at a little seaport on the shores of an Irish loch. Black, savage-looking mountains rose straight from the sea on either hand ; their lower slopes were cut up into small patches of tillage, and trees seemed to be unknown. Altogether, the scene was gloomy and depressing. In order to see the shores of the loch, I took a passage in a small steamer which went from the port at which I had landed to a larger town at the head of the bay or loch. I had a full view of either side as we steamed slowly along ; one place in particular seemed strange to me who had never before seen such things. This was a mountain-side covered from top to bottom with small houses or huts, dotted over it like a flock of seagulls. The hillside was cut up into small patches of cultivation which ran nearly to the summit. I asked the steamboat skipper how these people lived : he told me that they were nearly all hawkers, pedlars, and fish-men or fish-women. Some had a donkey and cart, and vended herrings and cockles far and near. Others, who had no donkey, carried baskets and sold, some lemons, some apples, some fish, just as these things were in season. Children began their lessons in hawking by " taking out a few lemons in a net." For the hut and "bit of ground " a trifling rent was paid, and it was useful as a home to return to, or as a shelter in old age. How the land in such bleak, cold regions could be

INTRODUCTORY.

worth working, or be made grow anything, puzzled me.

I was landed at a little village, whence I hired a jaunting car, on which I drove to the small watering-place at which my father used to stay when he visited Ireland. It was a little town or village on the other side of the mountain range I had crossed, and on the open coast. The town was commonplace, being made up of whitewashed houses and cottages, plain and ugly, but slated and neat. Everything was modern. It seemed that at one time there had been nothing but thatched hovels, and a few of these yet stood at one end of the village. I stayed the night at a little inn, having ordered a car to be ready in the morning for a long drive. I intended the first tiling to call on a Mr. M'Whirter, whom I had heard my father speak of as a man of great sense and shrewdness. I wanted to advise with him both as to finding a residence, there not being one on my estate, and as to some improvements I intended to make.

On a fine morning in early summer, I started for Mr. M'Whirter's house, which was some twenty-five miles off. At first I drove through a flat country, bare and ugly, ragged, furze fences divided the fields from one another, and long, low, thatched houses were dotted here and there over the country. These houses seemed to be comfortable, and the land looked fertile, and bore good crops of flax, oats, potatoes, and wheat. Having driven for a few miles through this flat district, the country began to rise, and instead of furze ditches were dry stone walls, and the houses were better, many of them being slated, Again the scene

THE IRISH PEASANT.

changed and I came out on a dismal-looking, upland tract. Here, black-looking hovels stood forth against the sky in hideous nakedness. Drains and pools filled with black and slimy water lay along the road, which was carried at some height above the surrounding country. Road and country had once been on a level, but the peat had all been cut away, save the narrow strip along which the road was carried. Such places as these are very common ; no effort seems to be made to improve them ; wretched beings squat there and try to make a living by selling the few remaining peats they can cut, and trying to grow a few potatoes in the " spent moss," or cut-away bog. All this dreary tract, together with miles of craggy hills, covered with poor tenants, belonged to the Earl of Blunderbore, a great absentee landlord. His land was said not to be dear, but between its sterility and the way in which it was subdivided, it seemed to be impossible to make a living on it at any terms. After driving for many miles through this miserable district, we at length came into a fertile-looking country, where there were some large farms and good houses. The driver, pointing to the best of these, said that it was Mr. M'Whirter's, who, it seemed, was farmer, miller, and cattle-dealer, all in one.

Accordingly, we drove up a little avenue to the door of Mr. M'Whirter's house. It was a stylish, villa-like abode, well plastered and finished. I pulled a bell handle several times, but no one came to the door. At last, after about half-an-hour, the door, creaking on its rusty hinges, was pushed open about a foot or so, and the frowzy, yellowjhead of a servant wench was thrust forth. She crossly asked what I wanted. I replied that I wanted to see the master; she then asked me why I could not go to the back door like " any other body." I suppose that I must have looked astonished, for she burst out laughing, so did the car-driver. I then found out that gentlemen like M'Whirter built their houses for show, and not for use. A good house was merely an index or proof that its owner had risen in the world. The old dwelling was left standing joined to the new one at the rear, and in it the master dwelt. The new house was only used on rare, state occasions, when some display was thought to be needful. The front door having been opened with some difficulty, I was shown into a damp room, gaudily furnished. In a few minutes, Mr. M'Whirter came into the room. He was a powerfully built man, with a large, coarse mouth, and small, cunning eyes. His manner was friendly, but not over-polite ; he seemed in some way to look down on me. I explained to him my reasons for coming to Ireland, said that I wanted a residence, and wished to carry out improvements and benefit the people. He listened with a pitying smile, and asked me if I wanted his opinion. I replied that I should be glad to have it. " Well, then," said he, " my dacent man, I'll tell you what it is ; if you'll be guided by me, ye'Jl just take yourself off by the next boat that sails, and never show your nose here again. And I'll give you some more advice, too, but first we must have something to drink." Having ordered in a decanter of whisky, a jug of water, and some glasses, he poured me out about half a tumbler of whisky, and pressed

THE IRISH PEASANT.

me to drink. Now, I should not have objected to something to eat, but to drink spirits in the daytime, without eating, was contrary to my habits. However, I just raised the glass to my lips and set it down again ; this inability to drink spirits seemed to sink me yet lower in M'Whirter' s esteem. " Now," said M'Whirter, "I must be quick, I have to be in the mill and have no time to lose. As I was saying, either go back to where you came from, or else, if you do want to live over here, rent a farm on the Blunderbore estate. What would you be doing with a gentleman's residence ? Drive your trap, and drink your glass, take off your hat to the agent, and let all your schemes alone."

" But," said I, " I have always been treated as a gentleman, and besides, why should a man with four or five square miles of property settle down as a tenant farmer, and doff his hat to a land agent ? Should I not have some standing and influence ? "

"Is it you," said M'Whirter, with huge scorn, " you're not the style of man for that sort of thing. Now, there's Captain O'Shun-the-Battle, the Blunderbore's agent, there's a man to carry weight any where.1 A lofty, high-minded, military, or, at least, militiaman, wears no end of jewellery, drinks champagne and whisky every day, and the roar of his voice would make you shake in your shoes. What are you with your plain dress and quiet voice beside a man like that ? Just nowhere ! WThy, none of the quality here would have anything to do with you. Or there's M'Swagger, the spinning-mill manager, a yet greater 1 All real characters, and literally true.

INTRODUCTORY.

man than O'Shun-the-Battle. That's what you may call a real gentleman, and a high Conservative as well. He's bought a place here that belonged to the Fitzmaurices, a wheen of auld, Popish rats, dating from the times of Strongbow. He's levelled the old castle, built a big new house, well plastered, and with plate-glass windows from top to bottom, where the castle stood, and cleared away every scrap of old work about the place. Broke 'em up, indeed, and bottomed the new avenue with them, the right way to serve them."

" Surely," said I, "you don't call a man like that a Conservative ? "

" Don't I, indeed," said M'Whirter. " Why, do you know what he did last election ? He drove five electors up to the poll in a four-horse brake, wi' an orange flag flyin', and a horn blowin', and every one of these men was so drunk when he came back that he had to be lifted out of the brake. Ah," said my friend, with an air of relish, " that's a real gentleman, and is out and out the finest man in the county."

It was quite plain that M'Whirter's views and mine disagreed on everything. It seemed useless to stop longer, so I took my leave, mounted my car, and slowly and sadly drove back to my inn, which I did not reach till late at night.1

Next day, I made every possible inquiry about

renting a house, but could hear of nothing. I then

drove to my estate, which I had not as yet seen. It

was in a rough, unimproved part of the country, but

1 See appendix A.

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the farms were of a good siz3 and the houses slated mostly. My father had been careful to check subdivision, and to have houses well roofed. My first visit was at the house of an old man, who after eyeing me curiously, said, " You've fine times of it, landlord, drivin' about." This remark struck me as something new. The people seemed to grudge that anyone should be better off than themselves. I afterwards found that this feeling was quite common. All my tenants seemed to look on me with suspicion and dislike, and I was about as popular a person as a tax-collector. They had nothing to complain of, but a person who wanted rent or money in any form from them could not be otherwise than odious. The steward or bailiff, who was the most civil person I had met with, told me of a man who wished to sell his interest in a cottage, which had been built on the site of an old residence on the property. It then occurred to me that as I could get nothing better, perhaps my best way would be to buy this man's interest and settle down on my own property. I might as well do that as take M'Whirter's advice and be a tenant under the Blunderbore agent, and besides, I might win the confidence of my tenants by living like one of themselves. Having made up my mind to take this course, I went at once to look at the cottage, which I found to be stone-built and slated, having two rooms and a kitchen. We soon struck a bargain with the tenant who had been abroad and wanted to so back. He

O

agreed to clear out at once, and I agreed to take over aU furniture and fixtures. These consisted of a table and a few chairs made of beech wood, a bedstead, and

INTRODUCTORY.

bedding, and a few cooking utensils. The owner of these was a bachelor, who bad roughed it in back settlements abroad, and bis habits were simple. As the few unmarried peasants had old women to keep house for them, I hired a clean, decent-looking old peasant woman, who could bake oatcake and cook a bit of bacon. This was the staple diet of the people, varied by a few potatoes, and on state occasions white bread and tea. Few lived on better fare, almost nobody on worse. I made up my mind to live as the average peasant did, also to walk instead of riding or driving. I could not then be sneered at as being "better than other folks." There were thirty or forty acres of land attached to the house; this I determined to keep in my own hands and manage myself.

In a few days I moved into the cottage. At first I found my life a hard one, and wearied of the coarse diet. But it was that of nearly everyone about. In the course of a few days I had been in every farmhouse and cottage on my estate, and had found the fare to be nearly alike in all.

Seeing the great need of fences, I hired a country mason to build up the worst places, particularly those by the roadside. This was interesting kind of work. The walls were built of dry stones, and a little mortar was used in coping them. I took daily lessons in this work, to the scorn of all passers-by, who sometimes stood and spoke half-pity ingly, half-scoffingty. These walls were well spoken of by the tenantry, as they kept cattle from straying, and saved the cost of " herding " them. At first the mason did not like my helping him ; I was finding out too much ; but as I saved him the cost of a man to attend him and gave him his own price for his work, he bore with me. I found the out-door life agree with me: I grew healthier and had a better appetite for my coarse fare ; I slept soundly and felt better in every way than I had done since my boyhood.

Wall-building was work for summer. At other seasons of the year, I spent my time either tending a little flock of sheep which I kept on my farm, or in rambling about my property and the surrounding country. I was bent on mastering the Irish problem, and determined to discover all that could be seen or known in every direction. In the course of two or three years, I had gained a fair knowledge of the rural economy of my own neighbourhood and of some thirty miles round about. Coarse attire, rough working-man's hands, and the best attempt I could make at speaking the dialect of the country, all these helped me greatly in my investigations.

Having quite exhausted my own part of the world, I thought of travelling farther afield, in fact of walking across Ireland from its eastern to its Atlantic coast. I had now mastered to some extent the difficulty of Irish dialects, having had good opportunities of learning them. The country round was mixed as to its population, and dialects varied from broad Scotch to the usual Irish sort of talk spoken with a slight northern accent.

One morning about the end of spring or beginning of summer, I set out on my travels, in the character of a mason. I was clad in a coarse suit of countrymade tweed, on my feet were hobnailed brogues, and

INTROD UCTOR K 1 1

my luggage was contained in a coloured handkerchief slung at the end of a stout walking-stick. My first night was passed in a travellers' lodging in a village some twenty-five miles from home. " Lodgings for Travellers " in Ireland are in a cottage or cabin in a village street. Outside is posted up a notice, " lodgings and entertainment." " Entertainment " means board. Sometimes the notice runs good " dry " lodgings — " dry," here means without board. The accommodation at such places is usually very poor. The beds are generally of straw stuffed into sacks or mattresses, the bedding coarse and dirty, and the food bad. Of course prices are low, the class of persons who travel on foot in Ireland being very poor. They are for the most part beggars, tinkers, navvies, tradesmen out of work, and tramps of different sorts. The aristocracy of these classes who can afford to pay for bed and board stay at lodgings, those who can't afford this luxury put up at the casual ward of the workhouse.

I started from my lodgings very early, and walked all that day. As I got towards the central parts of Ireland, the appearance of the country began to alter. Neat farmhouses and good cultivation became fewer arid less. Bogs1 and cabins became more and more plentiful. From the bogs rose low hills, covered with bright green grass, on which large cattle lazily fed. By the roadsides were grimy looking cabins, the thatch green with slime and moss, the walls black from age and smoke. A The climate had become much damper, and the atmosphere reeked with moisture 1 See appendix B.

and peat smoke. Towards nightfall, I stopped at a cabin to ask my way to the nearest village. The woman of the house asked me to come in, and set a chair for me before the fire, beside which the owner of the house was already seated, smoking a short black pipe. There was no lack of fuel, and the fire was heaped with peats — here called sods of turf — and over the fire a big pot of potatoes hung from an iron hook. The master of the house and I soon became friends ; my horny hands and coarse dress showed that I was "one of the people," and there was no reserve or suspicion on my host's part. He showed me two cows, which were tied up in one end of the cabin, separated from the apartment in which we were seated by a mud partition. I now had learnt enough about cattle to know that they were good, useful animals, in by no means bad order. During the daytime they grazed along the roadsides or on patches of herbage among the marshes, at night they got a little coarse hay.

I was now about to leave the cabin and walk on to the next village, but such a thing was not to be heard of — I must stay the night. To this I at once agreed, being curious to know more of the way of living of these people. After a few minutes the pot which hung over the fire was unhooked, the water poured off, and a heap of dry floury potatoes turned out on the table. Each person being supplied with a tin porringer of milk, we began our supper. The meal over, we drew our rush-bottomed chairs to the fire, and smoked and talked. My host smoked the traditional Irish pipe. This is now greatly out of date, so

INTRODL'CTOR\. 13 that an account of it may be of interest. This pipe is about two inches in length, and of a dark brown or black hue from age and use. The proper method of filling it is to pack and well press down the tobacco. This is cut from a stick or twist, which has been well soaked with oil to make it heavy and sell well— so at least the country folk say. There are various ways of lighting the pipe. The old-fashioned way was by a flint and steel, the down of a thistle being sometimes used as tinder. The most common way, perhaps, is by holding a lighted sod of turf to the bowl of the pipe. But of late years luciter matches have come greatly into fashion. Lighting the pipe is by no means easy, but, once " started," it does not easily go out. When the pipe is going, the smoker sends forth a puff every one or two minutes, and talks in the intervals between each whiff. The pipe is looked on as a great means of quickening conversation and strengthening friendship.

My host's discourse was practical; he cared little for theorising, and still less for sentiment. He complained of good land being all let to big graziers, and of " poor men " getting nothing but the bad bits that the others did not want, and " of prosecutions for grazing on the roadside." This was something new to me. I had always heard of English lanes being let for the summer grazing by the local authority. But it seemed that in Ireland people could not graze stock by the roadside on any terms, though they were quite willing to pay for the privilege. Cow, donkey, or goat are forbidden to graze by the roadside, and must "move on," smart policemen having usually a string of such prosecutions at petty sessions.

The sharp little Irish boy or girl who mind the animals keep a good look-out for the " peeler," and when he is sighted in the distance, the animals are driven along the road. Sometimes the policeman suddenly appears from round a corner, and then the offenders are caught. This law seemed to bear very hardly on poor folk in Ireland, when it is taken into account that there is much more traffic on English lanes and roads than on those in Ireland. In most parts of Ireland there is almost no traffic on the country roads, and the danger arising thereto from animals grazing on the roadside must be very small. These were my host's chief grievances, and he seemed to have good grounds for his discontent. He cared little for politics. A law that would give him a bit of good ground cheap was all he wanted.

Having passed the night on some dried rushes covered with a spare blanket, and breakfasted on the same fare as that on which I had supped, I rose to depart. I wanted to pay something, but the man refused with a look of hurt dignity. He, however, accepted a little tobacco as an offering of friendship. Like many Irish peasants, he was hard and matter-offact, yet polite and hospitable. I have described this household because it was a fair type of many others in this part of Ireland. For some days I travelled through a country that seemed to consist of bogs, grazing tracts without habitations, save occasional mud cabins, and poor gravelly ridges of hills, swarming with small peasant holdings. I rambled for some

1NTK OD UC TOR Y 1 5 distance to the southward, and then turned north-west. Having travelled in this direction for a few days, I came into a mountainous region. There were nothing but black, boggy-looking mountains, with poor valleys lying between. Having followed the course of a river, I at last reached the head of a bay or loch. Here was a little town whose main street was filled with emigrants, who had come in from .the country, and were going on to a seaport, whence they were to embark for " foreign parts." These people were nearly all young men and women, with a sprinkling of married women and children, who were going to husbands and fathers abroad. Their miserable attire seemed ill-suited for a sea voyage. But with most of the peasantry shoddy and cheap finery had supplanted the warm frieze and woollens formerly worn. English people are apt to think that the Irish are always in rags. I cannot say that I have seen many rags in Ireland. But English-made clothes of the vilest shoddy are far too common. These are sold in Irish fairs by dealers in such things. They look cheap for the price asked, and so tempt ignorant young men and lads. Female attire of an equally flimsy and worthless character is sold by the village shopkeepers. I have often thought that many English manufacturers of so-called cheap stuffs must profit well from the folly of young Irish men and women. In out-of-the-way places frieze and coarse cloth of home manufacture are yet worn by the men, and blue cloth cloaks by the older women, and of late years efforts have been made to extend the manufacture of Irish woollens. But they are unable to keep pace with cheap English shoddies, and many people in Ireland think that protective duties ought to be levied on such fabrics.1

I stayed the night at this town and in the morning took a road that led along the shores of the loch. Great dark mountains rose on the opposite coast sheer from the water's edge. Everything was on a large scale, unless the huts of the people, here of the smallest size I had yet seen. They were built of large stones and thatched with heather, tied down by straw ropes, crossed and re-crossed. All day I walked by these gloomy shores, and towards nightfall came to a house to which I. had been directed in the town I had left. It was a small, slated farmhouse, where lodgings were let to country-folk, who came to the " water," as the seaside is called in Ireland. Here I made an arrangement with the owner to work at drystone walls at such times that the weather allowed, or as suited my convenience, the work done to count for so much in my bill for board and lodging. I arranged to stay during the summer, and bargained that on those fine days on which I wished to make expeditions I should not be required to work. I thought it better to keep up the character of workingman, in order that I might be the better able to get to the bottom of things.

Accordingly, next morning I set out for a walk to the mouth of the loch. The little farmhouse was a few miles from this opening, and the road to the open coast wound up a steep mountain-side. When I got to the top of this mountain, the other side descended as 1 See appendix C.