Paddy at Home ("Chez Paddy")

by baron de E. Mandat-Grancey

A great many resisted, the Colonel amongst them. He declared that, under the circumstances, he preferred taking back his land and cultivating it himself, but by thus acting he infringed the fundamental rule of the League. Here I cannot resist inserting a parenthesis.

The idea that ownership of the soil is a property like any other is certainly a modern idea. The old notion of land tenure, the outcome of feudal laws, considerably limited the landlord’s rights, by creating, amongst other things, between him and the tenant reciprocal obligations, such as personal or military service; these are no longer compatible with modern ideas, but we still find persistent traces of them in every country in Europe, and particularly in France. Thus many of the lands of Sauterre, for instance, are or have till quite recently been subject to a law which provided that a landlord could not send away a tenant without replacing him by one of his relations, or by cultivating the farm himself. Of course this law has not been inscribed in any code for a very long time. It is asserted that it dates back to the Crusades; but it is so deeply ingrafted into the national customs that here the land subject to it is always let more cheaply than any other, because the owners well know that if they have reason to complain of a tenant, and that no one of his family is disposed to take the farm, this generally happens—they will not find any one to replace him. The owners of land subject to these laws are therefore in a great measure at the mercy of their tenants. Attempts have frequently been made to evade it, but they have always been followed by repentance, for they have invariably been punished, either by arson, or by mutilations of cattle. But this is all avoided if the proprietor cultivates the land himself. This is the sole proceeding that, according to custom, will enable him to act against the tenant.

These facts are well known. I recall them because they throw a new light upon the events now passing in Ireland. The Land League by refusing to allow the landlord the right of dismissing his tenant, endeavours, perhaps a little unconscionably, to revive in force old customs that are evidently of feudal origin, and which, if resuscitated, would completely subvert all modern notions of property, whilst it is very curious that the League is encouraged in these attempts by the revolutionists of the whole world. But at least the old law acknowledged the proprietor’s right to cultivate the land himself, and this the Land League refuses to do.

The Colonel’s decision was scarcely announced when all corners of the estate were placarded with notices warning the public that the fields were boycotted. A butcher from Limerick rented a meadow, he had reason to regret it; during the night the tails of all his oxen were cut off. Then things became worse; the Colonel had left the service in order to manage the property himself. Soon after he first returned, he wished to make an example, and sent away two tenants who were pointed out to him as ringleaders in mischief. He immediately received several letters signed Captain Moonlight, couched in the most polite terms, but in which he was advised to have the measure for his coffin taken as soon as possible. A few days later he had dined with a neighbour and was on his way home towards eleven o’clock at night. It was fairly light; on leaving the park the road led up a rather steep incline, to the right there was a field of oats separated from the road by a low wall.

As they drove through the gate the coachman, who probably had partaken too freely of the hospitality of the servants’ hall, suddenly whipped up his horse. The Colonel, who was sitting on the second seat of the jaunting-car, turned round to tell him to drive more slowly; at the same time he heard the report of a gun; his hat was pierced, and by the light of the shot he distinctly saw the man who had fired from the other side of the hedge. He seized the gun that was always in the carriage, and jumped down; unfortunately the horse was still going so fast that he rolled into the ditch. When he got up again the man was already some distance away, running across the oats. He fired twice but could not reach him. A few weeks later in his turn he had some friends to dinner. The dessert had been served, and, according to the English custom, the ladies had risen to return to the drawing-room; the Colonel drew back against the wall to allow his neighbour to pass when a shot was fired outside through the dining-room window; this time the bullet passed through his coat.

Two years later an Irish priest, settled in America, wrote to him saying that the author of the two attempts had just died in hospital, and that before receiving absolution he had asked his confessor to write to the Colonel to implore his pardon and to tell him all the details of the crime. He had received 100 guineas for the attempts, the result of a donation from all the tenants on the estate.

This is the position of affairs in the country, and the situation is rendered particularly serious by the offenders being very rarely arrested; their secret is too well kept. Besides, when they are arrested, it is not of much use; the juries know what to expect if they give an adverse verdict, and therefore the few culprits brought before them are nearly always acquitted. The other day there was a very amusing case of this kind.

One of the Colonel’s neighbours, also an ex-officer, Major F——, had some difficulties with a drover who occupied a very small farm. He gave him notice to quit. The man complained to the Land League, and the president wrote to the Major telling him that he had received a complaint against him and requesting him to give some explanation about the motives that had led him to act so harshly. The Major considering this summons a simple piece of impertinence naturally took no notice of it. But he suffered for his neglect. A few days’ later as he finished breakfast, he noticed five or six cows feeding in a field of clover in front of his windows. He went out, for he could not understand how they had entered. When he reached the field he found they had passed through a gap in the wall that had evidently been made on purpose.

He drove them before him, intending to make them go out by the same gap, when he suddenly perceived, not ten paces from him, a man on the other side of the wall deliberately aiming at him with a long holster pistol. He instantly recognised his drover. The shot followed; he realised that he was not hit, but he turned on his heels and ran back into the house to find a weapon. When, ten minutes later, he returned to the fields, he made a curious discovery—the pistol had burst; this accident had saved his life. The fragments of the weapon were on the ground. The drover had disappeared, but he had been severely wounded; his right hand thumb had been blown off, and was found in a pool of blood.

Five or six days later the assassin was arrested in a hospital where he had gone to have his wounds attended to. He was sent to the assizes; but on the eve of the trial each juryman received a letter signed “Captain Moonlight,” informing him that the man had only obeyed orders, and that if he were condemned, others would be found ready to avenge him and to make them suffer the same fate from which the Major had so narrowly escaped.