Paddy at Home ("Chez Paddy")

by baron de E. Mandat-Grancey

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.