Chapter V (2)

He commenced his duties about a year ago, and for some time everything went well. The taxes were admirably paid in, considering the hardness of times, and every one agreed that in him the barony had found a model official. The surprise was therefore great when it was discovered some days ago that he had disappeared, as all cashiers do disappear, _i.e._ with their cash boxes. By a singular coincidence his securities, two tradesmen in the place, had suspended their payments at a few days’ interval. For a short time after this event, public opinion hesitated. Some were delighted and praised the patriot, who, sooner than pay into the oppressor’s Government the funds that would be used to pay its hired assassins, had simply appropriated them for his own necessities; but the more politic shook their heads and pointed out that if part of the funds were destined for the Government, the rest was intended for local expenses, whilst they asked themselves how all the wheels of the barony could work during the coming year.

_Helas!_ The patriotic misgivings of these sages were only too well founded. Mr. Trench has consulted a lawyer. The answer arrived this morning. It is terrible. The collector is an official of the barony, but the barony undertakes to collect the Government taxes through him, at the same time as its own. Thus, on the one hand, since the money had not been paid into the Government, the barony was still responsible; and, on the other, a number of necessary expenses had been incurred and they must meet their engagements. Now the 2,000_l._ received, only representing the exact amount of these two deficits, it became necessary to raise another two sums of 1,000_l._ each, _i.e._ the taxes must be paid again. The argument is as clear as water from the rock, but it is not pleasant.

Now the grand jury are to meet to-morrow at Tralee, and this is why it was resolved to convene an indignation meeting in order that Mr. Trench, when discharging his duties on the grand jury, might convey to his colleagues the expression of the but too well justified complaints of the unfortunate inhabitants of Kenmare.

Mr. C---- and I started a few minutes after breakfast for the Town Hall, where the meeting was to take place. The hall, which is generally used for musical evenings and charitable associations, is of good size. However, when we arrived it was already crowded, but when we were recognised, those present made room for us so pleasantly that we ended by reaching the platform, where Mr. Trench and Father O’S---- were conversing with great animation. The types present offered a most interesting study. The peasants and farmers were crowded together at the back of the hall: the benches nearest the platform being filled by the inhabitants of Kenmare, small merchants and workmen. I noticed one man near to me, already aged, thin, very brown skin, white, closely cropped hair, an eager, very expressive face, the head of a Spanish priest. Mr. C---- told me that he was a poor workman, who had been some years ago one of the most active and energetic Fenian agents in the country. He has only lately left prison. Opposite to me a small crowd is pressed round a short man leaning against the wall. He has a collar of thick white beard, which frames a pale face, ornamented with a red nose, to which he applies snuff in a dignified way in those rare moments when he is not speaking. Under his frock-coat he wears a long brown waistcoat, and he keeps his left hand in one of its pockets whilst he gesticulates with the right, talking all the time in a loud voice. He is a tailor. He speaks at every meeting, is one of the most active members of the Land League, and enjoys great influence. In the first ranks of his audience are a dozen worthy citizens with fat, sheepish faces, who appear to drink in his words, and who undertake to repeat them, with their own comments, to the crowd that presses behind them endeavouring to catch his words. As I looked at first one and then the other, the liberated Fenian and the little tailor, I could not help thinking of the fable of “Bertrand et Raton.” I fancied that the little tailor would never go to prison, though he would probably be the means of others going there; sure to eat the chestnuts if others could find the means of taking them from the fire.

But the compressibility of the body has a limit. It soon became evident that the hall would not hold another person. Mr. Trench began to speak.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “before opening the proceedings, I think it would be advisable to elect a president.”

A great silence followed.

The little tailor longed to speak, for he rubbed his beard in a feverish way; but suddenly a voice was heard in the crowd--

“Suppose we nominate the French gentleman over there as president.”

Naturally, I made a forcible gesture of dissent. The hall echoed with a peal of laughter. The nervous tension relaxed a little. Mr. Trench seized upon the opportunity.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “it appears to me that we could not do better than invite the Venerable Archdeacon Father O’S---- to be kind enough to preside over us.”

Applause broke out from all sides. The arrangement had been so well provided for, that the Archdeacon was already seated near the presidential chair. He thanked the assembly in two words, seated himself comfortably, and leant back folding his two hands in the air, and resting his elbows on the arms of the chair.

“Well, Mr. Trench,” said he, “we are listening to you!”

How well Mr. Trench knew with whom he had to deal! With the first words he managed to win the sympathy of his audience.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “you know that the grand jury is a body selected, not elected.”

“Hear, hear!” cried the little tailor, gesticulating like a devil in holy water. “It is not elected; it is another of those tyrannical institutions which crush poor Ireland.” (Prolonged murmurs.)

“I agree with you, that it is a great misfortune. I believe that it would be better, in every respect, if the representative of the barony could be chosen by you. But since that is impossible, I cannot do better than come and consult you, in order to learn your opinion of the serious business that now preoccupies us all, whilst promising to act according to your instructions.”

He then rehearsed the situation; but when he explained to them that in all probability the taxpayers would have to replace the 2,000_l._ carried off by the collector, the tumult became so formidable that the Archdeacon rose and began to speak.

This was, perhaps, scarcely correct for the president, but no one appeared to mind it. But then no one here seems to trouble himself particularly about the formalities that are so cherished at Bridoison. Father O’S---- stood upright, his two hands plunged into the pockets of his cassock, his hat still upon his head. Our unfortunate French priests are so accustomed to see their most elementary rights of citizenship contested, that, once outside their church, they always look embarrassed and awkward. They never speak without a thousand hesitations, carefully weighing every word. They conceal their thoughts as much as possible; insinuations are the utmost they ever venture upon. What a contrast from the attitude of this priest; what authority he evidently derives from the conviction that he speaks in the name of the whole people. He does not spare his words.

“Mr. Trench,” said he, “every one present renders justice to the feeling which prompted the step that you have just taken. We all thank you for it. You have described the situation very well. We are ruled by an assembly, the members of which are chosen by those who are masters of Ireland, but who are not elected by us. This assembly settles our taxes as it likes; appoints the agents charged with the collection of these taxes, and because the agent that it sent to us without consulting us on the subject, but armed with all its authority, is a thief, we are now told that our receipts are of no value; that the unfortunate inhabitants of this poverty-stricken barony will be forced to pay a second time. It is a disgraceful thing! We Irish are accustomed to submit to many shameful things, but I declare I never heard anything quoted that is more shameful than this!”

But here he was forced to pause. Whilst he was speaking one could hear the exclamations of the audience gradually increasing. At his last words the noise suddenly became indescribable. The Fenian near me could not control himself. He roared.

The little tailor was so excited that he gesticulated like a madman. At the back of the hall the farmers tapped with their shillalahs on the floor, from which issued clouds of dust.

The priest had only to raise his hand in the air; all stopped as by enchantment. He resumed, with the same calm manner:--

“Well, Mr. Trench, to-morrow the grand jury, of which you are a member, is to assemble. You propose to act as our interpreter to your colleagues. For the second time we thank you for this proposition, and we know that you will carry out your promise to us. Tell the grand jury----”

“Wait!” said Mr. Trench. “I will write down your resolutions.”

“Certainly! Tell the grand jury that the inhabitants of this barony protest with all their power against the odious injustice, which they think of imposing upon us, and which, by every legal means----”

“Not at all! I protest! I object to the word legal being used! I demand that we should put, by every means!”----

It was the little tailor shouting at the top of his voice. And then as every one looked at him, he proudly drew himself up and majestically applied a great pinch of snuff to his nose.

His interruption made a great sensation. The shillalahs recommenced to move at the back of the hall. The Fenian at my side uttered from the depths of his chest, a hurrah, which made me jump into the air; his eyes started from his head. Evidently, at this moment, he would give his chance of Paradise to be able to shoot an English policeman; the citizens who surrounded the tailor seemed slightly embarrassed; they evidently considered that things were going too far. Only the Archdeacon retained his imperturbable air.

“Let us see, Mr. X----, you apparently advise us to take guns and blunderbusses and to attack the police?” said he.

The little tailor only answered by a gesture of the arms and head, which said clearly: “If everybody were like me, things would not end like that,” but which at the same time, had the great advantage of giving no handle for pursuit, if things turned out badly. But Father O’S---- soon re-established quiet; the resolution that he proposed was applauded and the meeting soon broke up without further incident.

I have, perhaps, dwelt too long upon the details of this meeting; but they appear to me very curious in many respects. In thinking over what I have seen and heard, I find food for much reflection.

It is the fashion in France to complain bitterly of centralisation, and of the great administration which results from it. M. de Tocqueville, in particular, expatiates everywhere on the beauties of the English system, which completely differs from our own. Amongst us, the Government appoints the officials charged with the collection of the taxes, and lends them to the Communes, or the Department, for the collection of the local rates. Here, on the contrary, the collectors are the agents of the local authorities and are lent to the Government by them. I acknowledge that this system has the advantage of leaving to the local power the greater part of the authority, which they have taken from the state; but this satisfaction appears to me a little platonic. Under the French system if my collector absconds with the cash box, admitting even, though this is almost impossible, that his security were insufficient to meet the deficit, this deficit being divided between thirty-eight millions of taxpayers, I should suffer in an infinitesimal proportion from this theft; whilst, under the same circumstances, the poor people of Kenmare are forced to pay twice over, and they must pay, because in consequence of the decentralisation, they cannot employ a state official amongst them, and, therefore, as their agent is completely independent of the collective populace, there is no reason why the neighbours should suffer through his theft.

There is a school of men that is always lost in admiration of all foreign institutions, and that has the greatest contempt for all that passes at home. Is this a right sentiment? We know our own institutions through experience, but others only in theory. It therefore happens that, whilst we see quite easily the defective side of our own, we are I believe much too inclined to exaggerate the merits of neighbours. The English inhabit an old house. The arrangements, which were excellent in former times, are now frequently found very inconvenient. They make a few reforms, but those are done with the utmost prudence, because when workmen are placed in an old building there is always danger of the walls giving way. They know that if they decide to pull down the old house and build a new one they must spend a good deal, and also sleep outside for some time. In order to avoid this inconvenience, they prefer remaining where they are, as long as it will hold together. I think their argument is just, but they are not as well lodged as they might be.

We are not in the same position; our old house has fallen, we have had all the annoyance and expense of a removal: we had to sleep outside for a long time. Now, the great work of the new one is finished, the roof is in its place; the ensign is still missing and also many small interior fittings, but still, such as it is, we can certainly say, that the service is better done there than in most other establishments.

But to continue the comparison, it is but too evident that great reforms are needed in this country. For instance, this institution of a grand jury, almost omnipotent and absolutely irresponsible, is made to exasperate the people. It is not even a feudal institution, for the feudal law provided that “none could be judged save by his peers.” It is the application, pure and simple, of the rights of conquest. If the Land Leaguers confined themselves to demanding the abolition of such abuses, they would be so manifestly right that every reasonable man would sympathise with them, and the English would be forced to yield at once. Instead of doing this, they claim a number of things that cannot possibly be granted, which would manifestly be either useless or injurious to them if they obtained them, and no one really can tell whether they would reform existing abuses or whether they would not rather content themselves with using them against their political adversaries. Thus the other day the Lord Mayor of Dublin told me that Ireland suffered from too much centralisation. If such cases as that which formed the subject of the meeting at which I was present are of frequent occurrence, it seems to me that it is rather an excess of decentralisation from which she is suffering.

And besides, was it necessary to complicate by a political crisis, the agricultural and economic crisis, which is already so hard to bear in this country? And this political crisis, a little goodwill on all sides would suffice to check, at least in a great measure. I only require the facts that I see here as a proof of what I say. In every country in the world, where such an accident happened, the population would be much excited by it. Every one would feel it. Such an incident is a God-send for an opposition politician. It would not require many like the little tailor, or the old Fenian, to put a light to the powder. Luckily, the two conflicting parties are each headed by thoroughly honest men, benevolent and moderate. Mr. Trench came and said: “I agree with you, the grand jury is not what it ought to be; it is true that you are not represented in it. I cannot change the existing laws, but since I form part of the grand jury, allow me to act as though I were really your representative.” Father O’S---- took him at his word, and that sufficed to make the meeting pass off quietly. I therefore cannot help thinking that if really willing men were more common, peace would be less disturbed, and this is why I believe that the clergy have rendered a great service to Ireland by placing themselves at the head of the Land League. A few of its members are certainly hot-headed men, who do not use their influence in the right way; but a great many others act like Father O’S----; and, whilst tolerating what they cannot help, they act as mediators, and very efficacious mediators, in a movement which, if they were not there, would in each village be led by men like the little tailor.

This evening, Mr. Trench invited me to dine with the inspector of police for the district of Kilgawan. This young man, who discharges all the duties of a lieutenant of _gendarmerie_ amongst us, has about thirty constables (Irish constabulary force) under his orders. This corps seems copied from the French _gendarmerie_. They are superb men, admirably disciplined, who render the greatest services. They are, however, abominated by the populace, although they are all Irish officers and men. But, at the same time, this does not prevent there being ten candidates for one vacancy. One of the reasons for this is that the pay is exceedingly high. This young man, who is dining with us, gets about 240_l._ per annum; more than a major receives in France. He is twenty-six years old. A simple constable has from 80_l._ to 100_l._; there are 12,000 of them; 7,000 Catholics, and 5,000 Protestants. The maintenance of this corps is a heavy item in Irish finance.

A Government should always give its servants a rate of pay which is in accordance with the scale of salaries in the country. If it fixes too low a sum, it can only obtain very inferior men; if it pays them too much, there are ten candidates for one vacancy, and, since it can only give one appointment, it creates nine irreconcilable enemies in the persons of those it was forced to disappoint. The English Government, however, like every other, is influenced by this principle; only its pay is regulated by the scale of English salaries, and these salaries are very high. It can scarcely have a special scale for Ireland. An English constable who gains four or five shillings a day is not too well paid, because his brother or his father, who are workmen, earn about the same amount. But because an English constable receives five shillings, it is necessary to give five shillings to an Irish constable, although he is living in a country where the workmen never earn more than one shilling per day. Now, since it is precisely upon these Irish workpeople, who earn so little, that the taxes producing the soldiers’ high pay weigh so heavily, they feel exasperated. The same events take place under all administrations. This is another of the Land League grievances, and one of its best arguments in favour of Home Rule, for they point out that if Ireland were completely separated from England, the pay could be reduced in proportion to the general distress, and this can never be done whilst the union lasts.

The inspector of police spoke to me about the state of the country, with which he is naturally better acquainted than any one else. The neighbourhood of Kenmare is relatively quiet. However, he knows that the tribunal of the Land League works regularly, and meets every Sunday: everybody obeys its decisions.

To-day, a constable seized eight or ten summonses issued in the name of this tribunal. This is an exact reproduction of one of them:--

“KILGAWAN BRANCH, I. N. LEAGUE.

_June 24, 1886._

MR. THOMAS MURRAY, BALLINACARRIGA.

DEAR SIR,

Your presence is requested in the league 2 p.m. On the 27th inst.
On behalf of the committee,

JOHN GODFREY, _Sec._”

He believes that he shall be forced to give James O’Leary two men as a protection, who will not leave him day or night. There are already several persons in the county in the same position. And it is only because the expense is so very heavy, nearly 200_l._ a year, that there are not more. However, the Government defrays this expense by levying a special tax from all the inhabitants of the district.

But, I repeat that the situation of this part of the county is exceptionally good. There is another barony in the neighbourhood where the situation is far worse. This property belongs to the Honourable Roland Wynne. Already two of his agents have been killed, and he is now vainly endeavouring to find a third. The last tax-collector having had a ball pass through his leg whilst discharging his duty, hastened to send in his resignation, and it is impossible to replace him.

This estate has not paid one penny either to the landlord or to the state for the last three years. In fact, then, the farmers have become the owners.[2] In all that concerns them, the programme of the Land League has been fully carried out, and it has been realised in the most economical fashion, since, to obtain this result, the people have only had to spend the sum necessary for the acquisition of a gun and three charges of powder. I may add that the inhabitants of this lucky barony can only lose by a change of government, since, however economical the new one may be, it will always be necessary to pay some taxes, whilst now they do not pay anything to anybody. It is therefore a golden age which reigns for the time in this corner of Ireland. I ask whether the fate of this population seems capable of amelioration?

I am answered that, the land being very bad, the distress is terrible; the people are literally dying of hunger, and that emigration is the sole resource of the population! But then, in that case, the crisis has not arisen from the land laws, and they cannot cure it by making the peasants landowners. I had always doubted it, but I am well pleased to have my opinion so convincingly proved.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Mr. Toler was at the time (as well as my memory serves me) Solicitor-General, but sitting as Judge of Assize.

[2] Since my visit to Ireland, this estate has been seized by creditors, who have driven out all the farmers. The most lamentable scenes took place, and have been much discussed in the newspapers.