Paddy at Home ("Chez Paddy")

by baron de E. Mandat-Grancey

CHAPTER II.

THE LAND LEAGUE—AN IRISH CONFESSOR—CAPTAIN BOYCOTT—A CONSPIRATOR’S CAVE—MR. HARRINGTON—MR. BIGGAR—THE OBSTRUCTION CAMPAIGN—MR. SULLIVAN, LORD MAYOR, POET, PATRIOT, STATESMAN, AND DIVER—A ROUGH ELECTION MEETING—MR. SHACKLETON—A CANDIDATE’S PROFESSION OF FAITH—PEMBROKE HOUSE.

We will first describe the origin of the Land League. To fully understand the subject, we must first trace back Irish history to the year 1847. At that time the population, which in 1845 numbered 8,175,124, had certainly attained, if not exceeded 9,000,000. Then as now, we may say that no manufactures existed in the country. The population lived on the direct produce of the land. The repeal of protection on corn had caused the almost entire disappearance of cereals, for which the soil, and above all the climate, were always unfavourable, and consequently, only two possible industries were left—stock raising (and this was chiefly pig raising), and the cultivation of potatoes. The sale of pigs sufficed to pay the taxes, the landlord, and the few necessaries bought by the people. The potatoes were reserved for food.

Suddenly the potato disease broke out. In a few days, of a harvest which promised abundance, absolutely nothing was left, and by one blow nine millions of people were left without anything to eat. This is the simple history of the famine in 1847. And this history must inevitably be repeated in every country that transforms its agriculture into raising stock, and which yet aspires to support the same number of inhabitants; for it is quite evident that a stock-raising country cannot feed as many people as an agricultural one.

This phenomenon had already happened in Scotland at the end of the last century. The difficulty was solved by the emigration of large numbers of the Highlanders from several counties. The same thing is now visible in France; and if we have not yet encountered the same consequences, it is because our peasants are living, and for some time can still live, on their capital. In Ireland the people had no reserve fund. The misery was therefore awful. One can hardly believe that such things can happen in our century; but it is undeniable that thousands of miserable people died of starvation in the midst of their fields, just as they might have done on a wreck in the middle of the ocean. The official statistics registered 6,058 deaths simply caused by hunger! And the famine preceded, and was followed by an epidemic of typhus, which killed thirty or forty thousand persons.

It has been widely stated that the landowners behaved badly under the circumstances; they are particularly reproached for having claimed their rents in spite of their tenants’ terrible misery. But these accusations have never been proved. The rents had been collected before the famine began and at a time when no one could have anticipated its occurrence. But here I will quote Mr. Sullivan, one of the most advanced members of the Nationalist party, who says in reference to this subject:—

“The majority of resident landlords really did all in their power. When the famine appeared many landowners found themselves on the verge of ruin. They had inherited property that was already heavily mortgaged. The money paid for rent did not remain in their hands but went to pay their creditors. The loss of a year’s rent brought them fatally near seizure and bankruptcy. They knew this and yet it must be acknowledged that a great many of them who might have escaped disaster by harshness towards their tenants, preferred their own ruin.”

The Government on its side was far from inactive. Works were opened in all directions for the construction of roads, with the idea of providing employment for the population, and so many were made that they cannot be maintained, and yet at the present time I doubt whether another country exists where roads are more numerous than in Ireland.

I believe, therefore, it would be just to own that under the sad circumstances, every one loyally tried to do his duty. It may be said that the measures taken were insufficient or not cleverly managed, but it must be remembered that the difficulties were immense, and there is no proof that any other Government would have been more successful.

However, the memory of this terrible episode has left ineffaceable hatred in many minds. Still it did not explode at the time. From 1852 to 1876, we may affirm that there was a very perceptible and continued increase in the national prosperity of the country. One point should be carefully noted, viz., that this increased prosperity coincided with an enormous diminution of the population. We have seen that in 1845 it numbered 8,175,124; it is estimated that in 1848 it would have reached nine millions; in 1851 it was only 6,552,385; and in 1881, 5,173,836; it should now be under five millions. In thirty years, emigration has reduced the number from nine millions to five, that is by four millions in round figures. This prosperity was rudely interrupted in 1877, and once more the misfortune was due to a bad potato harvest.

If Ireland had still contained nine millions of inhabitants, we should certainly have seen a renewal of the scenes of 1847; but since she had only five millions there was no famine, in the real sense of the word, although the misery was very great; the farmers lost eight hundred thousand pounds, and those who paid their rent could only do so by borrowing the money.

The harvest in 1878 was nearly as bad as the preceding one. The deficit amounted to five hundred thousand pounds; the situation became more strained. All the tenants were in debt, for in the preceding years a number of banks had been established and had given them enormous credit, and now this credit became more restricted. Many found themselves on the verge of succumbing, and each one felt that if the next harvest were not exceptionally good no one could escape ruin. Anxiety was therefore at its height. And at this critical moment, in April, 1879, the farmers in county Mayo were summoned to attend a meeting that ought to have been held in Irishtown. The order of the day only disclosed that its object was to study the situation. The notices were signed by Mr. Michael Davitt.

Mr. Michael Davitt was not quite unknown in the country: his father had been a farmer there. Being unsuccessful in business, he was forced to abandon his farm, and to go and live in England, where he only vegetated. At eleven years old his son was already working in a cotton factory; there one of his arms was cut off by some of the machinery. At seventeen he had joined the Fenian conspiracy. In 1870 he was arrested. The Fenians had blown up a prison wall to enable some of their number to escape. Young Davitt, implicated in this affair through receiving explosives, was sentenced to fifteen years’ penal servitude.

However, he only remained in prison for seven years. In 1878 he received what the English call a ticket-of-leave. The individual who receives this ticket is set at liberty, but conditionally; he is still under police supervision, and the Government has the right to imprison him again without further trial until the end of his sentence. Mr. Davitt’s case had been widely known. On the day that he returned to Dublin with one of his fellow prisoners, liberated with him, 300,000 persons waited for them at the station, and the impression produced was rendered deeper and more lasting by this man falling dead through the rupture of an aneurism as he entered the hotel where Mr. Parnell was waiting for them.

At this meeting at Irishtown the theory of the Land League was first explained. Curiously enough, Mr. Davitt first thought of the idea, but he did not make the first speech—he had missed the train, so others opened the subject instead of him. In such a centre it could not fail to receive an enthusiastic welcome. Thanks to an active method of propaganda, it spread through the country so rapidly and so successfully that a few months later Mr. Parnell summoned in Dublin a meeting of delegates from all parts of Ireland, who were charged with drawing up the statutes of the Association, which, under the name of the Irish National Land League, was established on the 21st October, 1879.

The general principles which were to guide the Association, are stated in the following declaration:—The objects of the League are—

I. To obtain a reduction of rack-rents.

II. To facilitate the acquisition of the land by those who cultivate it.

III. To attain these ends the League will undertake—

1st. To create an organisation which will bind all the tenants together.

2nd. To defend all those who may be threatened by the landlords with eviction from their farms, through refusing to pay rack-rents.

3rd.

4th. Lastly, to neglect no opportunities of forcing Government to pass laws allowing the tenant to become the owner of the soil he cultivates, by means of the payment of an annuity, and under the most favourable conditions possible.

1st. To create an organisation which will bind all the tenants together.

2nd. To defend all those who may be threatened by the landlords with eviction from their farms, through refusing to pay rack-rents.

3rd.

4th. Lastly, to neglect no opportunities of forcing Government to pass laws allowing the tenant to become the owner of the soil he cultivates, by means of the payment of an annuity, and under the most favourable conditions possible.

The document was signed by Parnell, President; Patrick Egan, Treasurer; Michael Davitt and Thomas Brennan, Secretaries.

Scarcely launched, it required very little to make the League collapse. Numerous meetings were assembled in all parts of Ireland for recruiting adherents. Several orators, who were heard there, expressed such advanced Socialistic opinions, that the clergy, who until then had watched the proceedings without interfering on either side, now took fright and protested loudly; one might have thought at one time that war would break out. If the clergy had persevered in that attitude, the League would probably have foundered; they would have conquered, but the people’s minds were already so excited by the struggle that the clergy must have compromised the preponderating influence that they always possessed. Besides, the heads of the League hastened to disown the imprudent words their representatives had uttered. But at last the name of the Bishop of Cashel appeared one day in the list of subscribers. All the prelates followed his example, and from that time the success of the League was insured.

The clergy have been much criticised for the position they then accepted. I believe that on the whole it was politic, and has been productive of good results. It may be considered extraordinary that the clerical influence should be employed in the service of an association which furthers its designs by the use of such violent measures; but we must add, that the League would probably have been a thousand times more violent had not the influence of the clergy been exercised over it.

But we must not think that the Irish clergy were constrained and forced by passing events to enter the Land League. Many of its members had little difficulty in bringing themselves to join it. Amongst us the clergy are chiefly recruited from the masses; but whilst on one hand the Government pays their stipends, on the other they derive their chief support from the upper classes. Being obliged to conciliate so many interests or frequently opposing sentiments, they are quite inclined to be extremely moderate. But in Ireland the position is very different. The clergy are also nearly entirely recruited from amongst the peasants and small farmers; but, since the upper classes are Protestant there is no connection between them; nor even between the priests and the Government, for the latter can do little either for or against them. The priests have, therefore, all the instincts of the people from whom they spring, and with whose destiny they feel their own fate closely bound up. In the conditions of existence under which they live no preponderating element can exist. Under the French system there is a very moderate, but at the same time admirably disciplined, clergy, because everything comes from those above them. But these advantages are often gained at the expense of their influence over the people, from whom they are too much separated. Under the Irish system the clergy have, on the contrary, enormous influence, and by which their incomes are affected, and they quickly realise whether there is any danger of this influence being compromised. Only it frequently happens, when the passions are greatly excited, that instead of teaching the people the priests are obliged to follow them, and discipline not having the material authority that it has with us, these eager temperaments are only restrained by the hands of canonical obedience, though at the same time these are usually sufficiently powerful.

We must not, then, be surprised if the parochial clergy, living in the midst of a population that was unquestionably suffering great hardships, and having no connection with the classes whom they consider responsible for these sufferings, have thrown themselves into the struggle with frequently exaggerated ardour, or what at all events seems so to the French, who are accustomed to much more reserved manners in our priests. Some of them allow their enthusiasm to attain extraordinary dimensions. I was dining, quite recently, with one of my relations; eight or ten persons were present, and one of them, an Irish parish priest, was telling us something about the present state of his country. Very intelligent and full of racy humour, he related a number of anecdotes illustrative of the prevalent state of feeling, each droller than the last, and above all full of local colour. He particularly impressed upon us the sympathy of the clergy for the Land League.

“The other day,” said he, “one of my colleagues was playing billiards with his vicar, when a message was brought to him that a man wanted to confess to him in the vestry. He immediately went, took his place in the confessional, and the man commenced the enumeration of his sins.

“‘My father,’ said he, ‘I confess that three months ago I shot a man and killed him.’

“‘Oh, oh!’ thought the priest, ‘this is a serious matter.’

“He still held the billiard chalk in his hand, and with it made a mark on his left sleeve.

“‘Go on, my son,’ he said aloud.

“‘That is not all,’ stammered the man. ‘Two days later I shot Paddy Ryan.... But I only wounded him.’

“The priest made a second mark on his sleeve, and repeated with a sigh:

“‘Go on, my son.’

“‘Since that I have shot at Corney O’Sullivan, and then at Tim O’Flaherty, and then again at Timothy O’Hagan.’

“The priest sprung up in his arm-chair.

“‘Good heavens, my son! but what had all these men done to you that you wished to hurry them into eternity? Who were they?’

“‘Oh, my father! they were all bailiffs or tax-collectors.’

“‘Idiot!’ growled the priest, furiously rubbing his sleeve. ‘Why didn’t you say so before, instead of letting me spoil my best cassock?’”

This story was much relished by the lay guests at dinner. It was less appreciated by the ecclesiastics present. It is, however, unnecessary to add that it was related as a good joke; but at the same time, we quite understood that the joke was intended to give the key to the present state of feeling amongst many of the Irish priests, and the narrator added that he was himself the President of the League in his district.

When the League was once founded, it was forced to assert its power. It was rendered particularly popular amongst the tenants, because it had promised them, if not the abolition, at least the reduction of a great portion of their rents. Now, the surest method of attaining this result would be the suppression of competition, so that the landowners, once convinced that if they withdrew the farms from their present tenants they would have them left on their hands, should be forced to accept all the terms their tenants liked to impose upon them. In a speech spoken at Ennis on the 19th September, 1880, Mr. Parnell undertook to point out by what means these results could be obtained. Here are his words, which have since been frequently quoted by those who wish to make him responsible for the storm they let loose.

“Now, you will ask me, what must be done to a tenant who takes a farm from which another man has been sent away?”

Several voices in the crowd—“Shoot Him.”

Mr. Parnell—“I think that some of you answer, ‘Shoot him!’ Now, I will point out to you another method, which is much more certain, and which has the advantage of being more Christian and more charitable, for it gives the sinner time to repent. When a man has taken a farm from which another has been unjustly driven out, you must, by your conduct, wherever you meet him, by the isolation in which you will force him to live, by treating him as formerly lepers were treated—you must, I repeat, by all these measures, show him the hatred and contempt you feel for his crime.”

Historians relate that one day Harlequin gave his three sons two drums, one large and one small one, and a pair of cymbals, telling them to amuse themselves with their new playthings, but to be careful not to make a noise. They add that, in spite of his instructions, his quiet was rather disturbed.

Mr. Parnell has unfortunately seen his counsel produce the same result as those given by Harlequin. He exhorted the crowd by advising them not to employ any but moral, charitable, and Christian measures. The crowd obeyed his words, but his instructions were soon left far behind. At that time, an ex-officer, Captain Boycott, after leaving the service had settled in Ireland, near Lough Mask. He made agriculture his business, and also managed estates. He had some difficulty with a tenant, who would not pay his rent, and he wished to evict him. The local committee of the Land League in his village, intimated to him that if he did, it was at his own risk and peril. Naturally he ignored this hint, and war was declared.

The whole of Ireland watched this affair, with the greatest attention, for they felt that the future of the Land League depended upon the way in which it was settled. But every precaution was carefully taken, every one of Captain Boycott’s servants left him the same day; he went to the tradesmen in the small neighbouring town who usually supplied the house, they all refused to serve him. He could not buy either bread or meat at any price, and for some days he lived on potatoes that he dug himself, whilst Mrs. Boycott milked the cows.

The Land League had won the first battle. Public excitement was intense. Threats having been uttered the Government sent a garrison to the Captain, and he no longer ventured out without the protection of four men armed to the teeth. Reporters from every Irish and English newspaper followed him perpetually. Every morning the public learnt that on the preceding evening the Captain, guarded by six constables and accompanied by twelve reporters, had dug two dozen potatoes for his breakfast. Then they were much interested in a field of beetroot which ought to be taken up. In Ulster an association was formed, which sent twenty-five Protestant labourers to his aid; the Government sent a company of infantry to guard them, not only during their sojourn on the estate, but also on their journey there and back.

The beetroots were taken in, but the situation became more strained every day. One fine morning it was found that all the cows’ tails had been cut off during the night. The following week two or three bullets whistled round the ears of the Captain and his escort Then, when they wished to sell the famous tailless cows, no butcher in the country would buy them. It was resolved to send them to the English market. But the railway and steamboat companies were informed that they too would be laid under an interdict, if they carried them, so they refused to take them. However, the cows went, but a special boat, chartered by the Belfast Association, was sent to fetch them. But it is really neither pleasant nor lucrative to cultivate a farm under these circumstances. The struggle assumed Homeric proportions. It had lasted for a month or two when the landlords committed a great error. If they had combined and subscribed eight or ten thousand pounds to enable the Captain to carry on the war, they might have gained the upper hand, and the League would never have recovered from the check; but they did not do it. The Captain, who had shown marvellous courage, and who only wished to continue his resistance, was abandoned to his own resources and was forced to yield. At the same stroke the Land League triumphed, and the English language was enriched by a new word. The verb ‘to boycott,’ which expressed the action of interdicting any one, as Captain Boycott had been interdicted, is now quite admissible. It is commonly used, not only in conversation but also in judicial and parliamentary language. For the Land League it was a party triumph. Questionable before this event, it had now asserted its power so effectually that friends and enemies were both forced to bend before it. From that day it is incontestable that the Land League has been the de facto government in Ireland; at any rate it is the only one whose orders have never been disputed.

Like all truly great things, it has a very simple organisation. Every parish has a committee elected by the unanimous suffrage of all its adherents; that is to say, of everybody in it, for, in nine-tenths of Ireland, there is not one man, above all in the country districts, who dares to refuse joining the Land League, or who neglects to pay his subscription regularly, although this is never less than one shilling per month. The parochial committee elects a president, who is often the parish priest, or even one of the vicars, if the priest is considered too lukewarm. A county committee is in constant communication, on one side with the presidents of the parish, and on the other with the central committee, which meets twice a week at the central office of the League at Dublin. No one exactly knows how much money is at the disposal of this committee; but it must amount to a considerable sum. On one hand the subscriptions are paid very regularly; on the other, there is not an American city that has not its Irish committee or who does not send subsidies. I do not know how much the subscriptions amount to, but some one, whose information is thoroughly reliable, told me that they had never received less than 4,000 dollars per week.

But all these funds are used. The League is generous, and it pays well for the services it receives. One day, three years ago, the Bishop of Cashel proposed to offer a substantial testimonial to Mr. Parnell as a token of their public appreciation of his work. A special subscription was opened, which in a few days brought in 40,000l.

The League first pays a number of agents, who constantly scour the country to keep up the agitation; it subsidises a mass of newspapers, and distributes a quantity of pamphlets. In the country, it has recourse, above all, as a means of propaganda, to allegorical coloured pictures. The United Ireland has just published one which is already seen everywhere, and which depicts Mr. Gladstone armed with an enormous sabre, on which “Home Rule” is engraved, with which he is evidently about to reduce to mincemeat a three-headed hydra, of which each head has a strong likeness to either Mr. Chamberlain, Lord Randolph Churchill, or Lord Salisbury.

We must, however, mention that these funds are never used for election expenses. The latter are covered by the production of a special subscription. The Parliamentary Fund, which has already been able, in the last few days, to send 1,000 dollars (200l.) to every candidate who includes Home Rule in his programme. I now approach a burning question. For more than six years the League has governed Ireland. Since Captain Boycott, many others have been boycotted, and these interdictions, decreed by the Land League, have led to innumerable agrarian crimes—that is to say, that a considerable number of men and women have been assassinated for having infringed the orders of the League. Sometimes it has been proved that between the murderer and his victim some private hatred existed; but more often the assassin did not even know him; the victim was pointed out, and he was paid to commit the crime. Where did the money come from, and what part has the Land League played in these sad cases?

To answer these questions, we must first observe that agrarian crimes have always been common in Ireland. It is a tradition amongst the peasants that when tenants have to complain of the landlord, or of one of his agents, they should subscribe a sum to offer to one of their number, who undertakes to deal the blow, and is sure of his escape to America. These peasant customs were honoured for a long time before the Land League existed. It would therefore be unjust to say that it created them.

It is, however, very difficult not to accuse it of a large share of responsibility for many of the crimes committed. Mr. Parnell, its President, first invented and recommended boycotting. Now, boycotting cannot exist unless it is effective, and it cannot be effective unless all those who are charged with carrying it out are placed under strict discipline. A rich man who is boycotted would evidently try to induce the butcher or the baker to furnish him with provisions. He would, if possible, offer them large sums to tempt them to yield. In order that this butcher or baker should resist their offers, they must know that their disobedience will expose them to serious danger.

Boycotting, therefore, entails absolute discipline, and since there can be no discipline without authority, it ends in intimidation. Now, from intimidation to murder there is only one step. The facts prove it. Mr. Parnell often repeats that the only day that he despaired of the future, and was on the point of renouncing the struggle, was when he received the news of the murders at Phœnix Park. This is very possible; but still, Mr. Parnell cannot deny that his system could not work two days if murders had not been committed. He blames the assassins, but profits by their deeds.

We must, however, acknowledge that the question can be looked at from another side. It is certain that the Irish people are in a state of war or of rebellion, whichever you like, against England. This is incontestable. The war is carried on by extraordinary means, but still it is war. Mr. Parnell is therefore the chief of a belligerent army. He has regular troops: namely, the official agents of the Land League; and then he has irregular troops, composed of men who all aim at the same thing, but who will not submit to any discipline, and who advance towards their end by whichever road they fancy will lead them the most directly. In Italy, the Turcos committed some atrocities; they willingly collected the ears of the Croates left dead or merely wounded on the field of battle. These atrocities served to found the legend which rendered them so formidable, and this legend in some degree assisted to win the battle of Magenta. Marshal MacMahon was absolutely incapable of cutting off an enemy’s ears whether he were dead or wounded. He never gave any Turco the order to commit these abominations; he would certainly have punished any man who did it in his presence; but who can tell the influence these ears had upon the battle of Magenta where the general found a field-marshal’s baton and a coronet?

But it is certain that side by side with the Land League there are several secret societies existing, which have usually their head-quarters in America. They are or were under the direction of the notorious O’Donovan Rossa, and it is almost proved that these societies instigate many of the crimes which are committed. But, even whilst admitting, what I believe to be true, that the Land League never directly recommends attempts at manslaughter or attacks on the person, it can be reproached because it has hitherto expressed so very little censure of such crimes after they have occurred. With the enormous and varied resources at its disposal, it would be very easy for the League to bring the guilty to justice, and by so doing it would completely silence its accusers; but this it has never yet attempted.

The office of the Land League is at 43, Upper O’Connell Street. Here I must again make an observation: this street, one of the most important in Dublin, is in reality Sackville Street. One day, on its self-created authority, I do not know for what reason, unless it was simply to assert its omnipotence, the League decided that it should bear the name of the great Irish agitator. Since that event there is not a car driver who does not pretend that he does not understand where you mean when you ask for Sackville Street. I have been told this quite seriously, but I have not been able to verify it as a fact; so that I only mention it as a statement made to me. When I enter the office I seem to be in a ministerial department. I was shown into a room where five or six people were writing; one of them took my card, and asking me to wait for his return, carried it to Mr. Harrington, the general secretary. Busy men passed to and fro, with papers they had brought for signature; an elderly white-haired man danced attendance with me. We began to talk. He was an Australian doctor, who had brought funds from a committee at Melbourne; I was at once filled with respect for an establishment, where they even kept a man waiting who brought them money.

At last I was informed that Mr. Harrington could see me. I found him in a large lofty hall ornamented with allegorical pictures; three or four secretaries were seated round a table covered with a green cloth, opening letters and coming forward every moment to ask for instructions or to bring piles of telegrams, which arrive from all quarters. I own that all this made me feel thunderstruck. Here is an Association that openly conspires against the established Government, and that everywhere declaims against its odious tyranny. And yet the offices occupy a whole house within two steps of the Viceroy’s palace; it has a badge over the door so that no one could mistake it, and a policeman walks up and down the pavement to keep the carriages in their ranks. What a difference between this imposing establishment and the dark cave where all classical conspiracies are formed! And yet some people deny that we are progressing! Unfortunately it appears to me that this fact alone suffices for the undeniable condemnation of the English Government. It asserts that these people are rebels and assassins. How then can it allow itself to be defied by them in this way? The first duty of every government is to carry out the law and to protect peaceful citizens. When it does neither of these things it must be nearly at its end, and it is even right to wish that its end may come as soon as possible, in order to make room for another administration which will better realise its duties.

Mr. Harrington was born at Bantry, in the south of Ireland; four years ago he superintended a local publication named the Kerry Sentinel, and which naturally waged perpetual war against the English Government. From time to time the Administration has spasms of severity which are disastrous, because just as this severity is likely to become efficacious it is abandoned for a return to gentler measures.

One day it thought it desirable to prosecute Mr. Harrington, who had not said one word more nor less than two or three thousand others had said. He was sentenced to two months imprisonment and confined in Mullingar gaol. Whilst working out his punishment he had an altercation with the governor and was condemned to six days in the cells. This caused some excitement. At the same time the member for Mullingar was obliged to resign his seat, though I do not know for what reason, and Mr. Harrington was thereupon elected in his place.

I have had something to do with French conspirators, though as little as possible, but still I have had some intercourse with them. They are nearly all, physically as well as morally, rough and unwashed, clinging to their principles as though they were stilts; in fact, insufferable. There are a few amiable sceptics who shave and wash themselves sometimes, but they do it with such visible affectation, that after all when one meets them one begins to regret they are not like the others.

The conspirators in this country appear to me a hundred degrees above ours. They never shave, but that I believe is a professional necessity. I have read in many classic works that the conspirators of former ages had the habit of forging swords out of their chains. Since in the present century chains are no longer used, they apparently forge them out of the steel of their razors. You therefore never see a stage conspirator without a formidable beard. All the Land Leaguers that I have yet seen wear them; but their beards are well kept, and their owners are as amiable and gracious as possible.

Mr. Harrington is far from being an exception to this rule. When I told him that I expected to visit first the south of Ireland, his own county, he hastened in the kindest way to place himself at my service, and offered to give me all the letters of introduction that I could possibly require; he particularly promised me one for the local president of the Land League, at Castle-Connell, a letter, which could, if necessary, be used as an introduction to all the others. He at once dictated what was requisite to one of the secretaries, who a few minutes later brought the letter for his signature. It was written on magnificent crested paper with quite an official appearance. At our Admiralty, the chief of the staff always conducted his business in a similar style. I certainly am in a minister’s office.

From time to time some political notoriety came in to inquire what was going on, and I was fortunate enough to be introduced to two of them—men of whom I had often heard.

The first was a small deformed man with sparkling eyes. This was Mr. Biggar, formerly a bacon factor in Belfast, who, having launched into politics, has become the fidus Achates of Mr. Parnell and his friends, and one of the creators of the well-known “sore” (I cannot find any more suitable expression) that is usually called the Obstruction campaign.

In 1881, the Government, seized with one of those paroxysms of firmness to which I have already referred, and wishing to re-establish a little order in Ireland, demanded from Parliament, not the proclamation of a state of siege, but simply powers which would enable them to act rather more rapidly than the ordinary form of procedure would allow of. This is what is meant by the Coercion Bill. Mr. Parnell and his friends, whom it was really intended to affect, were naturally anxious that this bill should not pass; but, being only a very small minority, they had no regular means of checking or preventing its progress. They therefore had recourse to tactics, which they had already used on different occasions, but in a less complete way. In the absence of any written rules, the English Parliament only obeys traditional customs. One of these customs is, that when a member is speaking he can continue as long as he likes, and an adjournment cannot be moved before all the members have spoken who have in writing given notices of their intention to move amendments.

At this time there were eighteen Nationalist members in the House. It was arranged that each of them should propose an amendment on every clause, and that each of them should not only support his own amendment, but also the motions of the other seventeen, each member speaking as long as his strength would allow. They had already tried this little game in 1877, and they had succeeded in making one sitting last twenty-four hours consecutively.

But they were determined to do better next time, and they kept their word. They commenced by protesting against the mere idea, that the state of Ireland justified the adoption of special measures; they asserted that far from getting worse, the situation was visibly improving; every one must know that in December, 1880, there were 867 agrarian crimes; but in January, 1881, there were not more than 448. And what crimes! In the first fortnight of the year, there was not a single murder. It was true that four houses had been attacked; two men had been shot at, but they were not hurt; only one person had been rather seriously beaten, but it was not even suggested that his life was in danger! It must be remembered that all this was said quite seriously. I have copied these details from a book that Mr. Gray recommended to me for its veracity, and which was written by Mr. O’Connor, one of his parliamentary colleagues, the title of the book is The Parnell Movement. The discussion thus commenced was continued in the same tone; an Irish member rose and proposed an amendment, no matter what it was, then he commenced to speak on no matter what subject. One of them recited some verses, another commenced to read an old collection of laws. In England Parliament sits in the evening; a sitting commenced on Monday evening was prolonged through the whole of Tuesday and far into Wednesday night. The two parties had organised relays; on each side of the House only twelve members were left lying on the benches, and the sole interruptions they offered to the orator, was the sounds of their snoring; one old member being rather delicate, brought a blanket for the second night.

Irish eloquence still flowed on. At a quarter to five on Wednesday morning, Mr. Sexton began to speak, and continued his speech until twenty minutes to eight o’clock. Mr. Leamy replaced Mr. Sexton; then followed Mr. Biggar, who had been home to bed and had just come back. He commenced his speech by saying, with a pleasant smile: “Perhaps I’m trespassing on the patience of the House.”

Some one, who had just awakened, replied as he stretched himself:

“No, no!”

And, encouraged by these friendly words, Mr. Biggar continued.

But at nine o’clock A.M. the Speaker entered. During the night a meeting of principal members of the Tory Opposition had been convened by the Government. They all agreed that it was high time to end the scandal, and having arranged the course to be pursued, the members were hastily summoned by the Whips, and re-entered in crowds.

Mr. Biggar still went on; but the Speaker, without apparently noticing that he was speaking, suggested that the House should adjourn.

Mr. Biggar uttered cries of “Shame,” “Order,” &c., but the Nationalists were not then present in force. Mr. Parnell himself was absent. The adjournment was moved amidst the hurrahs of the whole House, and Mr. Biggar was forced to content himself with calling upon the people to witness the abominable tyranny of which he was the victim.

The eighteen endeavoured to re-commence that evening; but at the first words pronounced by one of them, the House rose in a body and voted for their expulsion.

All this is certainly very droll; but what can be gained by these childish tricks? The Irish demand the establishment of a National Parliament at Dublin. What will they do if the Protestant members from Ulster use towards the majority the same tactics they—the minority—have so constantly employed in London? Many of them dream of the establishment of a Republic. They need only cross over to France to see how Republican assemblies treat the representatives of a minority. Under the first Republic they guillotined them purely and simply. In our days, they have invented special bye-laws for their benefit. Perhaps in a few months Mr. Biggar will preside over an Irish House of Commons. It will be curious to see how he will deal with obstructionists.

The other politician to whom I had the honour of being introduced during a visit to the offices of the Land League is Mr. Sullivan, the Lord Mayor of Dublin. Mr. Sullivan, a tall, thin, elderly man, with a proud intelligent face, is an author. It is said that he has published a volume of poetry, which was a great success. Unfortunately, I have not read it.

How different public customs are in this country from our own! A morning paper related that yesterday the Lord Mayor, accompanied by the Town Clerk and a deputation of eight members of the Corporation, went to open some public baths that the Town Council have just built in Tara Street. The inauguration was thus completed:—His Lordship having considered it was part of his duty, took a header into the bath; Mr. Beveridge, the Town Clerk, did the same; then these two gentlemen challenged each other, and the enthusiastic crowd watched a most interesting swimming race. Was the Town Clerk only a base flatterer? I cannot say. But, at all events, the Lord Mayor won by a length. The Freeman’s, which complacently reported this exploit, has unfortunately omitted some of the details we should like to have known. Did the Lord Mayor take off his curled wig? Did he wear drawers of the national colour? And was there a white harp to relieve the green foundation? Why did not the mace-bearers follow their chiefs? This would all be interesting information, which he should have given; yet the writer of the article has neglected to mention these details.

I had a long conversation with one of these diving magistrates. Unluckily I could not congratulate him upon his aquatic success, for I did not hear of it until after our interview. From him, too, I asked for an explanation about the real grievances of Ireland against the present government by England; I say present, because I quite admit the validity of old complaints. I am absolutely convinced that in the last and even in the commencement of this century, England treated Ireland abominably. The stories of confiscation do not touch me at all; they happened from four to eight hundred years ago. If it is still maintained that a title of four hundred years is not sufficient to constitute a right of ownership, it would become necessary to search for the titles of the people who were then dispossessed, and this might take us some time. Had I lived in the time of the French Republic, or even of the Empire, it would have been my pleasure and my duty to send a bullet through the head of the man who had bought my family property from the nation; but I can now look at their descendants without any rancour, because everything ends in this world.

But to return to Ireland. I ask every one what are the actual grievances, and in what way can Home Rule ameliorate the situation? Here are the exact words in which the Lord Mayor answered this question:

“For a long time Mr. Gladstone, the grand old man, has felt what we needed in Ireland. And this is why the Tories (who hate us) are so indignant with him, that if to-morrow a tiger were to escape from a menagerie and to devour him; there is not one Tory who would not exclaim ‘Thank God!’

“At last he has found courage to say aloud that which he has always really thought—we require Home Rule; and now, thank God, we shall get it!

“You say: But why should it be to England’s interest to see Ireland unprosperous? That is true. But would you like to be governed by Prussians? God never intended that one nation should submit to another! This is so true that a conquering nation, merely from the fact that it has conquered, is powerless to do good!

“But we certainly do not anticipate that Ireland will attain prosperity in one day, solely because it is governed by Irishmen. England has killed all our industries; we require time before they can be revived. We may perhaps make some mistakes. But whilst waiting for prosperity we shall bear our sufferings and our poverty more cheerfully, knowing that the amelioration of our fate only depends upon our own exertions.

“And besides this, the mere fact of the proclamation of Home Rule would have considerable influence over our material prosperity. You Frenchmen have no idea of the cavilling fiscal spirit which animates the English administration. All our towns are in a state of tutelage; our smallest expenses must be authorised; a special law is required before a loan can be raised, and the charges for the formalities that must be gone through before these laws can be obtained, are so high, that the cost is at once augmented to a disastrous extent.

“I can quote a recent instance of this. A short time ago we wished to lay water on to the town. The estimate was for 21,000l. Before we could obtain the necessary Act we had to spend 9,000l. in London.

“Even whilst admitting that quite as much might have had to be paid in any other country, at least the money would have remained in the country, whilst now, this 9,000l. only enriched the London barristers and lawyers, and was quite lost to Ireland.”

I trust that Mr. Sullivan will forgive me for saying that his first sentences reminded me of Victor Hugo’s style. The others contain an objection that may be well grounded up to a certain point.

Yet I am struck with two things. In the first place, I never heard the English administration blamed for excessive centralisation before to-day. I always thought that, on the contrary, its chief failures were due to excessive decentralisation. But in return I quite believe it to be, if not venal, at all events very expensive. In England everything is made an excuse for a fee, a word which means emolument, but which also slightly conveys the sense of “tip.” Amongst us, officials are absolutely prohibited from accepting anything whatever from the public. In England it is quite understood that, besides their salaries—which are very handsome—it is even legal that officials should claim remuneration for services, which, according to our notions, should be quite gratuitous.

This remark even applies to officers! Some years ago I saw the captain of an English merchant vessel come on board a French man-of-war, and ask permission to compare their chronometers with ours. The officer in charge of the watch hastened to render him this small service, and was quite astonished when, after the examination was over, the Englishman gravely handed him a sovereign, whilst the Englishman appeared still more surprised when the Frenchman refused the money rather hastily. It seems that English officers consider gratuities are perfectly legitimate.

Another instance happened at Shanghai. The Taïping army menaced the city. The bankers fearing a night attack asked the French and English captains to take charge of their cash on board in order that it might be safe; a favour that was at once granted. Only, when after some days all danger was past and the bankers sent for their money, those who had confided it to the English men-of-war were quite surprised to receive with it a rather heavy bill.

There is neither robbery nor even indelicacy in all this, for it is quite openly done. Still a French officer who acted in this way would be boycotted by his comrades and brought before a court-martial by his minister. I only quote these incidents to show how much the English views upon many points differ from our own, and to explain how with such a well-established system of fees the smallest step may become onerous.

However, to return to the Lord Mayor’s business; it seems to me preposterous that 9,000l. should have to be expended before permission to spend another 21,000l. can be obtained. With us, this permission would be only too easily granted gratuitously, particularly if it referred to the formation of an Academic group. It is certain, that if the Irish must give 9,000l. to barristers, it would be better, for the welfare of their country, that this substantial windfall should fill Irish pockets instead of benefiting English counsel as it now does; and the Irish expect to attain this result by having a Parliament of their own at Dublin. But why should it be necessary to spend 9,000l.? It seems to me, that by changing the method of procedure, by making it resemble ours, for instance, economy could be easily secured. The Lord Mayor’s argument proves that there are reforms to be made, and this no one denies; but they do not prove that in order to make these reforms it is indispensable to go as far as separation.

“Ce n’était pas la peine,

Non, pas la peine assurément,

De changer de gouvernement,”

says worthy Madame Angot, who was certainly no fool.

Whilst making these reflections in petto, I took leave of his lordship, who is more perfect than good King Henry himself, for, according to the old song, he had only three accomplishments, whilst the Freeman’s Journal unhesitatingly attributes four to Mr. Sullivan, since in the article I alluded to just now his position as a “diver” is established, and he is also called the “poet,” “patriot,” and “statesman” several times. He looks a thoroughly honest man, and yet the information that he gave has not explained Home Rule to me.

The remainder of my day was spent in several other calls, which I will mention in their proper place. They gave me an opportunity of exploring the city, which seems immense. In reality it has 249,000 inhabitants. The streets are superb and relatively clean; there are several fine monuments, and one or two charming parks; but the city is spoilt by the miserable expression worn by every one I meet. When I ended my conversations with the chiefs of the Land League, I felt almost converted to English doctrines; but the sight of these miserable faces drew me back to the Land League. It is really impossible to leave things as they are. When, during the day, I saw people who had evidently neither breakfasted that morning nor dined the day before, and who had absolutely no reason for supposing that they would be more fortunate to-morrow, it seemed incredible, and I could not help remembering the contemptuous air which Englishmen assume when they allude to what passes in view on the Continent.

Mr. Gladstone’s first political action was a letter in which he denounced King Ferdinand of Naples to all Europe. This document said that he deserved to lose his crown because he did not know how to govern his people. I do not see that Mr. Gladstone has succeeded much better. It is not enough to blame others; one must do better oneself. I have seen all the worst parts of Naples; I have seen the ghetto at Rome; both are, or rather were, charming localities if we compare them to a part of Dublin that I passed through to-day, called the “Liberties.” The only liberty that seems left to the inhabitants is the liberty of remaining unwashed and of dying by starvation. This district was peopled by a colony of French Huguenots, who introduced the poplin industry, which has now almost disappeared, but which at one time employed four thousand workmen. If these unfortunate people whom I saw this morning are really the descendants of our fellow-countrymen, I can only advise them to try a second emigration. I quite understand that the results of the first may not encourage them to attempt a second, but they have nothing to lose by a change now.

Here we see the great misfortune of this country. No industry that has been established here has been able to last: there is neither coal nor iron. How can they compete with England under these circumstances?

When I say that all industries have collapsed I am mistaken. One of them is a great success. It belongs to Mr. Guinness, a brewer, whose establishment now occupies nearly one district in the west of the city, on the banks of the river, with which it communicates by means of a tunnel made under the quay, which serves for the delivery of the barrels of beer on to the barges anchored in the muddy bed of the Liffey.

What an illusion the Liffey is! From the treacherous words of the Irish poets I had expected to find a superb river. I only saw a filthy ditch.

Mr. Guinness’s industry only prospers because everything that these unfortunate people earn is spent in drink. The Catholic priests, in spite of all their influence, cannot eradicate the vice of drunkenness, which is so deeply rooted in all northern populations. To-day, whilst passing through a fairly important street, I noticed a house with Temperance Hall painted in large letters above the door. In the window were hanging publications and pictures antagonistic to insobriety. But on the steps lay an old woman who had fallen there quite tipsy. Her grey hair fell over her stupefied face. One could see her skeleton legs through the holes in her dress. A younger woman, probably her daughter, a little more sober, but still scarcely able to stand, tried to persuade her to continue on her way. The old woman would not listen, but rolled helplessly on the pavement. At last the woman staggered off. What an eloquent commentary upon the sermons placed in the shop-window!

Two election meetings are announced for to-day. Mr. Gray is to speak at the first, which will be held in the city: but as I had told him that I should be delighted to see an election where a little noise was made, he advised me not to attend his, but to go instead to the one that would be held in the Town Hall at Rathmines, a large borough in the outskirts of Dublin, where they expect rather a tumult. Yesterday there was a very stormy meeting at the University, which returns two members. The Nationalist candidate, who, it is admitted, has not the shadow of a chance, was very badly treated by the students. They threw at him a dead cat, seventeen rotten eggs, one of which broke in the face of a courageous lady who had accompanied him on to the platform, and such a number of cabbage stalks that the most conscientious reporters were forced to give up the attempt to count them. At last he was forced to beat a retreat.

Now, it appears that the students, proud of their success yesterday, intend trying to disperse the meeting at Rathmines, or, at least, to make a disturbance there. Everything, therefore, points to an evening full of incident. It will be rendered doubly interesting because it is organised by the “Protestant Home Rule Association,” that is to say, by the few Protestants in the country who have joined Mr. Parnell—by the way, he is a Protestant himself—and who have now entered on the campaign in favour of Home Rule. They declare that, far from being alarmed, as the English often assert that they are, at the idea of being abandoned to the Catholics without some protection, some of the Irish Protestants are so convinced of the sentiments of justice and benevolence, or at least of tolerance, which animate the majority of their fellow countrymen, that they are among the most eager to demand separation.

A jaunting-car conveyed me in less than half an hour to the door of a very simple building, which is the Town Hall of Rathmines. If England’s tutelage, complained of by the Lord Mayor, has only the effect of recalling to the minds of the municipal architects the simplicity of style they so frequently lose sight of at home, this tutelage can scarcely be considered absolutely injurious. The street is already blocked by the crowd. Apparently the police are under the impression that there will be some work for them, for a hundred policemen are grouped in one corner, ready to interfere when necessary, but content to look on for the present. Some strong young men wearing a green badge, act as stewards and guard the doors. Every one desiring to enter must show a personal invitation. These cards have been sent out during the day. I have only an envelope signed by Mr. Gray. At first, therefore, I encountered some difficulties, because the signature was almost illegible; but as soon as it was recognised, one of the stewards gave me a formidable slap on the shoulder, exclaiming: “Bedad, sorr, with that name there isn’t any door in Ireland that wouldn’t be open to you!”

I explained to him that for the moment my sole ambition was to find a place where I could see well, and above all hear well. My friend at once told me to follow him; pushing through the crowd like a boar, hustling every one that stood in his way, and in five minutes I find myself on the platform, two steps from the president, and quite close to a window; a very advantageous position, because, first of all, I could get a little air, and secondly, if the tumult became too serious, a small jump of seven or eight feet would enable me to gain a small side lane; and this I determined to do, if necessary, without the least hesitation, for it would be too stupid to allow myself to be knocked down by a Nationalist, wounded by a student, or simply led off to the station by a policeman, all for the honour of “Ould Ireland,” although my martyrdom could not help her in any way.

When I had once formed my plan of campaign, I began to look about me. There was evidently electricity in the air. The hall could hold about three or four hundred people; a hundred-and-fifty or two hundred were crowded in a small gallery above the door, yet formidable pressure still took place from time to time, and on each occasion a fresh stream of people penetrated into the hall, and the new arrivals pushed forward against those who had entered before them. It was intensely hot, and already a good many present had taken off their coats. In order to pass the time they yelled out a patriotic song, commencing with God Save Ireland, which was accompanied from the street by an orchestra composed of five or six fifes and as many drums.

A few minutes later, a grey-haired gentleman rose quite near to me and advanced to the front of the platform, where he was joined by a short, deformed man with long hair. I don’t know where he came from. Instantly there was a great silence, and the former bowed to the assembly.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “seconded by my friend, Mr. Shackleton,”—Mr. Shackleton—that was the little hunchback—bowed, in his turn, so low that his hump appeared higher than his head. The applause was enthusiastic. Evidently this is an important personage. He is the second hunchback I have seen in the Land League. Mr. Biggar, like Æsop, had only one hump; this man has two, like Punch. The tall speaker is called Mr. Alfred Webb. He continued:

“Seconded by my friend Abraham Shackleton, and in the name of the Protestant Home Rule Association I wish to ask your support for our candidate, Sir Thomas Esmonde, Baronet, who already represents the electoral division of South Dublin.”

This declaration was received with a tremendous noise. Every one stood up, hats flew into the air, or were waved at the end of enormous blackthorn sticks that are here called shillalahs, mouths opened like ovens, and gave vent to hurrahs that made the hall shake. The voters in the gallery thumped with all their force on the wooden balustrade, making it resound like a drum. My eyes were fixed on a short man, standing in front of me; he shouted and gesticulated so violently that I expected he would be seized with an epileptic fit. After a moment he evidently broke something in his throat, for with a despairing gesture he indicated that his voice would not come again, and, red as a tomato, he sank upon a bench to recover his strength.

The same accident probably happened to several others, for comparative silence ensued. Unfortunately, some one took advantage of it to cry: “Boys! Three cheers for the Grand Old Man!”

The “Grand Old Man” is Mr. Gladstone. Some years ago they called him “the old scoundrel.” Now he is called the “Grand Old Man” but the usual pronunciation is not sufficiently emphatic. It must be pronounced very slowly: g-r-r-r-r-and, with four or five r’s, ôld with three circumflex accents on the ô, and two on mân. Any other pronunciation lacks respect.

The quite novel idea of cheering “the Grand Old Man” made every one recover his strength. One gentleman in the gallery gave the signal by attempting to demolish the balustrade with his shillalah and the nine hurrahs broke out like a peal of thunder. Their enthusiasm was so great that when it ended one voice cried, “Once more,” and they recommenced.

But human strength has its limits, and I saw with pleasure that they were nearly exhausted. The second volley of hurrahs is not so hearty as the first. At last their throats could only utter inarticulate sounds; in spite of the efforts betrayed by their distorted features aphony was rapidly approaching.

The orators grouped near to me on the platform evidently awaited this result. One of them rose and began to speak. He first alluded to the meddling of the Court with the elections. He had scarcely launched into his subject before a young man suddenly rose at the back of the hall. “Long live the Queen! Down with the rebels!” he cried in a clear voice. Two or three other voices responded. It was the students who had just entered, but their arrangements were badly planned. Their adversaries had taken every precaution, and very few students had succeeded in slipping into the room.

The tempest was unchained, a forest of cudgels waved overhead. The students made an heroic defence, but in less than a minute they were overpowered, picked up and thrust out amidst growls resembling those of wild beasts.

However, the affair was not yet over. In the streets their friends attempted a diversion. The music which had recommenced ended in a despairing scream. A heavy blow had broken one musician’s instrument in his face and the others took to flight. Some curious fights took place under my window; the combatants, so far as I could judge, seemed to display very serious and profound knowledge of the principles of the noble art of boxing, for in the twinkling of an eye I saw two or three noses broken. “A very illigant foight! Is it not, sorr?” said one of my neighbours, addressing me; he evidently considered it would be a personal favour if I declared myself anti-nationalist so that he might have the opportunity of commencing an equally “illigant foight” with me. I took care not to give him this satisfaction; on the contrary, I declared that I thought the fight most “illigant.” I begin to understand Irish very well, and even to speak it a little; it suffices to change most of the e’s into i’s and all the i’s into oi’s—for instance one must never say Ireland but “Oirrlande.” With these precautions progress is very rapid.

The students are decidedly not in force. In less than five minutes the incident is over, every one returns to his place, and the orators peacefully continue their speeches.

Most of them say very little; they are only the supernumeraries, the important topics are reserved for a little later on. The appearance of the hall is the interesting and instructive spectacle. The meeting is evidently composed of men belonging to the lower middle class; they are shopkeepers or clerks. There are a few torn jackets, but very few; in such an assembly one ought to find comparative moderation, but on the contrary, all these men seem really and unquestionably exasperated. When, just now, the students shouted “Long live the Queen,” and when since that an orator has pronounced her name, hisses and groans were heard on all sides. I consider this is one of the most serious aspects of the situation. Mr. Gladstone, once a constitutional minister, has assumed a revolutionary attitude; he has stripped the throne of its “divinity,” the name of the Queen is now treated with more contempt than the names of her ministers. The speakers, to do them justice, make no effort to excite this feeling; they constantly refer to Home Rule, but when they allude to the idea of absolute separation, or to a republic, they do so in terms which indicate that they will not even honour the question by discussing it. Do orders, resulting from political calculation, produce this state of things, or does it proceed from real conviction? I cannot tell, I can only state the fact; but I must also own that their contemptuous words were not echoed by the crowd. At last the candidate rose. Sir Thomas Esmonde is quite a young man, it appears that he is twenty-three, but he does not look more than eighteen or twenty. It is said that his fortune is very much reduced, and his family, which is far from adopting the same political views, and which now refuses to meet him, explains that it is with the hope of recovering his position that he has thrown himself into the arms of the League with so much enthusiasm.

This is another sign of the times. Formerly in England political opinions had no influence over social relations. It is said that a few years ago when Mr. Labouchere, widely known as the editor of Truth, was presented to the Prince of Wales, he, with an amiable smile said, “No doubt your Royal Highness is aware that I am a red republican.” This is quite possible in a country where the theories of social distinction not only have never been practised, but even seem never to have any chance of being applied. In an English drawing-room one may come into pleasant intercourse with a gentleman who explains that the landowners should be deprived of their property and that their throats should be cut on the altar of the country; because in England this has never happened, and until lately no one saw that there was any possibility of it happening. In France for a long time these encounters have been most disagreeable, and in Ireland I am led to believe that the people begin to avoid them. I am told that Sir Thomas Esmonde is “cut” by the society that he frequented before he entered political life.

However, they have not yet reached the odious personalities which too often dishonour our election struggles; and, I notice with pleasure, that the candidate’s first phrases are devoted to saying in a few words that he considers his opponent, Mr. Todhunter Pym, a perfectly honest man, and that he delights in recalling the services rendered by his father. I always acted in this way in our election meetings, and I can recollect the stupefied expressions of our adversaries’ partisans and the alarmed faces of our own when they heard me break through old traditions in such a fashion.

Otherwise I am bound to say that the shadow of the illustrious Grattan does not seem to inspire his descendant. If the truth must be owned, the honourable candidate stutters a little and consults some papers, which contain his improvisation, a little unreasonably. This is perhaps excusable because his speech bristles with figures. Beyond this it contained nothing very new.

Ireland has always been oppressed. All its industries have been successively sacrificed to the Machiavellian calculations of the English; first the silk manufactures, then the cotton have disappeared. Only agriculture remains. Now agriculture itself is threatened; it is dying of anæmia. Every year it pays nearly seventeen million pounds in rent, of which six millions are spent abroad by landowners who never visit Ireland. The country is therefore impoverished every year to the extent of six million pounds. How can it resist such a drainage!

“It is said that emigration is the only cure for the misfortunes of Ireland. On the contrary, emigration is killing her. In the first place, it is not true that she is too populated. Italy has 239 inhabitants per square mile”—(Oh! Sir Thomas! how wrong it is to juggle with figures in that fashion! You are quoting the statistics of Milan and Lombardy. If you took those of the Pontine Marshes or of Calabria, I think your argument would fall to pieces)—“Germany has 201; Holland, 181; France, 180; and Ireland only 169. And yet Ireland is much more fertile than England, or than most other countries.” (Oh, Sir Thomas!)

And then he added, “We suffer from a want of capital. Now at least four million Irishmen have emigrated in the last thirty years. Each man has spent at least 6l. on his voyage, this therefore amounts to twenty-four million pounds sterling, which Ireland has lost through emigration.” (Really, Sir Thomas, you are making fun of your audience! For one Irishman who has gone straight to America, ten have gone to England first, in search of fortune. Now whilst admitting that the emigrants to America have each spent 6l. on their journey, and this is far from true, for the ship companies take a whole family for 6l., a great many of them have simply spent four or five shillings in reaching the English coast. I think that if you reduced your numbers by seven-eighths you would perhaps be a little nearer the truth.) “Now if Ireland had retained this twenty-four millions, her agriculture would be flourishing and prosperous.”

The last few sentences particularly called forth immense enthusiasm.

“Gentlemen,” said he, “it is a solemn hour. This is the last time that I shall solicit your votes to send me to London. In a few months you will be called upon to vote again, and this time to return me as your representative to our national Parliament in Dublin. My election is not doubtful; but it is important that the large majority you gave me last time should be increased now, to prove to England that there is but an infinite minority of Irishmen who are not determined to acquire Home Rule!”

Sir Thomas Esmonde was followed by a ferocious looking doctor, who handled the English in general, but Lord Randolph Churchill in particular, very roughly; he appeared to cherish a special animosity against the latter. What had he done to him? I do not know. But if I were Lord Randolph I would avoid that doctor if I were ill.

I hoped for some compensation when Mr. Abraham Shackleton began to speak. I had heard that he was a Quaker. The only thing that I ever understood about the religion of that sect was that its members never wore buttons to their coats, always kept on their hats, and thee’d and thou’d everybody. Now his waistcoat was buttoned, his head was only covered with badly-combed hair, and I heard him say to the Lord Mayor, who came in; “How do you do?” This immediately put me on my guard, for I have a horror of renegades. I therefore only waited to hear him declare that he would rather be oppressed by a Catholic like his friend the Lord Mayor than protected by a Protestant like Mr. Chamberlain; then I slipped out, only too happy to breathe the fresh air once more.

Mr. Gray had invited me to smoke a cigar with him at Pembroke House after the meeting. It was already nearly eleven; however, I took advantage of his kind invitation. I was conducted to a magnificent library by a neat little maid who did not appear to have suffered much from Ireland’s misfortunes, nor particularly from famine, for she is quite plump. The master of the house had returned already; he was relating to Mrs. Gray all the incidents of his meeting, which had been very successful. From time to time a small bell recalled him to a telephone placed in the middle of the table. The special wire for the newspaper began to transmit the results of the English elections and the news was immediately forwarded to him. They were not brilliant for the Liberals. From all sides came tidings of the Conservative successes. Mr. Gray’s features expressed great annoyance.

“Bah!” said he at last, “we are beaten! Well, the English will have it hot! There must be new elections before six months are over!”

Apparently this means that there are a few good nights of obstruction reserved for the members of the House of Commons. How strange Mr. Gray’s position is! For in fact, however they may try to dissimulate it, the Irish claims if they do not yet amount to communism as their avowed object—and they may still retain a few illusions upon that point—still it is quite certain that the methods employed by the Land League would not be disowned by the most advanced Communists. No one can proclaim the principle of permanent State intervention in a bargain regulating the value of the land without being a Communist.

Now amongst us there is no lack of rich Communists; but they are only men who are outcasts from their own class, and who have thrown themselves into the party through hatred of the society which they feel is closed against them; for they all lead irregular lives, or else have a blot on their past. Mr. Gray’s case is quite different. He belongs to an excellent family, his perfect respectability has never been questioned, even by his worst enemies. He leads the most regular life; has a large fortune, and yet places all these advantages, and his undoubted abilities, at the service of Communism. Either he shows admirable disinterestedness, or else the race of people, who, mounted on a tree, cut on the side nearest the trunk the branch that supports them, is not yet extinct.

I must now sum up the conversations I have had with these gentlemen during the day. First, I must affirm, that they all declare in the most positive way, that in asking for Home Rule they have no after-thoughts; they do not dream of complete separation. They wish to have autonomy, and power to regulate their own affairs, but they are all ready to contribute to the common expenses. They do not think of independence, still less of a republic. They are quite decided on this point. Besides they also explain, very clearly, that the separation, which would be a wound and a menace for England, would be death for their country. Irish productions are exclusively agricultural, and England is the only market that geography allows them. England can buy whatever cattle or pigs she requires from other places; Ireland can only sell hers in England. Suppose that a lucky rebellion drove every Englishman out of the island; to bring Ireland to her feet, England need not blockade the Irish ports, she has only to close her own against Irish productions. Under these circumstances separation would evidently be suicide.

This once understood, they willingly say when they are asked about the agrarian laws, that they quite acknowledge how much danger State intervention in the relations between the farmers and the landlords involves, and how much the principle of that intervention is opposed to the most elementary laws of economy. “But,” they add, “necessity has no law. With us emigration is a last resource that every man endeavours to avoid.” (This quite upset all my theories; I fancied that Irishmen were much inclined to emigrate.)

“An Irishman never emigrates except through compulsion or force. A ruined man will take a farm at any price, knowing perfectly well that it will be impossible for him to pay for it, but also knowing that the landlord will give him credit for the first year or two’s rent, and that he will thus postpone the day when he must seek work in England or America as long as possible.

“Under these circumstances the law of supply and demand is evidently vitiated, and it is by looking at the question from this point, that we can maintain that the work of the Land League has done good. Without our intervention the landlords would have depopulated one-half of Ireland, for agriculture is in such a distressed state that it is naturally impossible for farmers to pay their rent in the present state of the division of land; the only remedy for this situation is the formation of small holdings, which have so much enriched France.”

Here I stopped them. “But,” said I, “the agricultural crisis is not confined to your country. It exists all over Europe. We, Frenchmen, are suffering so much from it that in my department of the Aisne, one of the richest in France, one-tenth of the land is abandoned, because it is found that at present prices the sale of produce does not cover the expenses of cultivation. The peasant proprietors of whom you speak are absolutely ruined now, because their land has lost all its value. Now, allow me to say, without offending you, that our land and our climate are far better than yours.

“This state of things, which prevails all over Europe and which is the result of facility of transport, can only have two solutions: emigration or protection. Up till now you have had recourse to emigration, and you have managed comparatively well since the failure in the potato harvest, which led to the famine in 1847, when you had nine million inhabitants. In 1877 it only caused less misery because there were four or five million less mouths. It appears that now you do not wish for any further emigration, unluckily, protection is almost impossible. We can apply it at home. We have already done so, and shall do it again. It is possible because we are a very homogeneous people, where all industries work side by side. When we ask the blacksmith to pay a little more for his bread in order that his neighbour, the farmer, may live, he easily understands that if the farmer is ruined he will no longer have horses to be shod. Besides, the farmer is his neighbour, perhaps his relation. With you everything is different. You only produce meat and butter, and only English workmen can possibly buy them. You require their custom, they do not need yours, and, more than this, you loudly proclaim that you do not belong to the same race, that between you and them there is war to the knife, that you wish to be as completely separated as possible, compatible with your own interests without paying the least attention to theirs. How can you hope to succeed when you act in this way?”

In my opinion these gentlemen have not answered my objections in a satisfactory manner. They do not appear to know that the agricultural crisis exists anywhere but here. In principle they would be partisans of the protective system, but they recognise that they cannot hope to obtain it from England, at least for a long time.

What form of government do they intend giving to autonomic Ireland? As a rule these men evade giving any decided information on the subject, and this is very natural. Give us the principle, they say, the first Irish Parliament will regulate all matters of detail. However, before giving the principle, it is natural enough that England should wish to know what the consequences will be. An article in the Nineteenth Century, from the pen of Mr. Barry O’Brien, has recently dealt with this question.

According to him, there are five men who, in public opinion, so completely personify the cause of Ireland that their ideas would prevail whenever it became a question of giving definite form to the Nationalist aspirations. These five men are Messrs. Parnell, Davitt, Healy, Archbishop Croke, and Archbishop Walsh. Now, according to what we know of their opinions, we may form an exact idea of the combination they would uphold. It would consist in:

The creation of an Irish Parliament, sitting at Dublin, and invested with the most extended legislative powers on all local subjects; it would consequently make all the laws relating to questions of property, justice, police, and commerce. But the Imperial Government will preserve an absolute authority upon all the following questions:—Foreign relations—especially the right of declaring war—the army, navy, coinage, posts, and customs. All the Imperial expenses would be covered by means of a tax, collected before any other levy, from the Irish revenue, and the payment of this tax would be received by crown officials.

Would the Irish Parliament admit of an Upper House? Yes; in all probability. Mr. Dwyer Gray is a great partisan of this idea. Only he states, with deep regret, that all the Irish peers, having up to the present time shown themselves absolutely hostile to any project of Home Rule, and besides having lost any kind of political influence, it would probably be difficult to have recourse to them to form the Upper House. But he does not say who would replace them.

A second question arises: Would Ireland return members to the Imperial Parliament as Mr. Gladstone proposes? This idea alone exasperates the English considerably, for they say that if separation is forced upon them, they will at least be spared the insult of seeing the Irish continue to take part in the elaboration of laws, to which they will themselves be subject no longer. Many Irishmen renounce this privilege. It is, however, known that the Archbishops greatly desire it, because they consider that in the regulation of religious questions, the influence of Irish Catholics might often be useful to the interests of their English co-religionists. Mr. Parnell also shares their views.

Such in its main lines is the programme desired by the Land League. It includes very onerous and very dangerous sacrifices for England. And then as Mr. R—— said, we may ask, whether when once these sacrifices are made, the Irish encouraged by their success, will not take them as a starting-point for new claims. Unfortunately the history of popular revolutions shows, that once entered on the pathway of concessions, it is very difficult for a government to stop.

However, it appears to me that in this respect the Irish revolution will offer some guarantees, of which the others were quite destitute. In this country there exist very powerful elements of social preservation. In the first place, religion has an enormous influence, that later events have only augmented. Then the war of classes is certainly not carried to its highest point, nor has it at all the same character as with us. The peasant’s hatred is not roused against the landlord because he is noble and rich, but because he is Protestant, and represents in his eyes the invader. The Irish who return from America bring with them ultra democratic ideas, which are, perhaps, propagated; but up to now, the bulk of the nation does not hold them. With us, in the eyes of all good democrats, it is an irremediable blot to belong nearly or distantly to the nobility. The Marquis de Songeon could not obtain a nomination to the Municipal Council of Paris, although he was atheist and radical to the last degree, unless he called himself M. Songeon. Here, in every case, where a man can attach himself to a noble family, he never fails to do it, and as soon as a political man begins to attain notoriety, every newspaper belonging to his party asserts that he is a direct descendant from the Irish kings. Verily there must have been a great many of them!

In London, in Mr. R——’s drawing-room, I heard the Land League and Home Rule discussed from the English point of view; Messrs. Harrington, Gray, Biggar, and O’Sullivan have spoken to me about it from the Irish side. I am therefore well acquainted with the theoretical view of the question. Now I wish to see the Land League at work. In this respect, Ireland is divided into two very distinct parts, which are very unequal in size. In the first, which includes Ulster, and is much the smaller, the population is nearly equally divided between the two religions. In this province the Land League has been unable to establish its authority in an absolute way; it is always in the militant stage. In the south, on the contrary, the Protestant element, we may say, is non-existent, or at least is only represented by a few landowners. The Land League was able to establish itself there without any struggle. Its authority is unquestioned. Consequently everything that happens there is the application of its doctrines. I must therefore study them in the south. With this object I leave to-morrow for Limerick, where Colonel M—— has kindly invited me to stay with him. From there I shall branch off into Kerry and Clare, and I fancy that it is in that direction that I shall have the best opportunity of examining the work of this formidable machine which, for the last four years, has held all the powers of the English Government in check.

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