Paddy at Home ("Chez Paddy")

by baron de E. Mandat-Grancey

However, he found a little consolation in the fact that, questionable though his own triumph might be, the partisans of the Land League were greatly troubled by it. In place of material results, he had secured a moral victory. He saw the proof of this result in the great number of meetings that immediately took place in the neighbourhood, meetings attended by two or three thousand people. The parish priest of Shaunganeen who was president of the local Land League, made a speech, and expressed himself with the greatest violence. He declared in allusion to Mr. Thompson that his name “smelt of blood,” and he made his auditors pass the most energetic resolutions. But here I must make a few observations; boycotting has become so common in Ireland, that gradually a kind of jurisprudence has been introduced into its application. Thus, there is a first degree of boycotting, which is not applied directly to persons. A refractory landlord finds his produce or his property interdicted. He can neither let the one nor sell the other. Usually, he hastens to yield, apologises, pays a fine, and things remain as they were. But if he still resists, the measures taken against him begin to assume a more personal character. He can no longer buy anything that he may require, for whoever sells anything to him, or renders him any service, is at once excommunicated. Until then the League takes the whole responsibility of its actions. Its sentences are often placarded. In every case they are announced in the party newspapers. It is not until the series of mutilations of cattle, arson, and attempts at murder, which form the third degree of boycotting, commences, that it always disclaims all responsibility. Now, until the memorable day on which Mr. Thompson gathered in his hay, thanks to the skilful manœuvres of a little “army corps,” only the first degree of boycotting had been applied to him, and the situation might have been indefinitely prolonged without any perceptible aggravation. But all was spoilt, because on the one hand, the League would not submit to a defeat, and above all, Mr. Thompson was not content to triumph quietly. He at once wrote a letter, which was published in all the newspapers, in which, after thanking the Union, he related the events that had taken place, announced the success of his proceeding, and urged all those who were in the same position to have recourse to the same means. He did not know the wasps’ nest he was throwing himself into, but he soon learnt. The letter appeared on a Saturday. The following day about two o’clock, he saw a well-meaning friend arrive. He had walked the three miles that separated the house from the town, in order to warn him that the League were holding a meeting, and he had great reason to believe that he was the subject of it. Mr. Thompson, still elated by his success, would not believe it. But the same evening at seven o’clock, the constabulary sergeant sent a man to him, warning him to take precautions, and particularly to be careful to remain indoors, for serious things might happen during the night. Mr. Thompson, who is unmarried, lived at that time with one of his sisters, a young girl of fifteen; two servants, who had been in his service for a long time and upon whom he thought he could rely, slept in the house. They had an abundance of arms, and, what was more important, the doors and window shutters had been lined with sheet iron during the Fenian insurrection. They hastened to barricade the house, and every one prepared to go to bed, when towards nine o’clock knocking was heard at the kitchen door. Armed to the teeth, Mr. Thompson went to it at once.

“Who is there?” said he.

“Open, open quickly, for the love of God, your honour,” replied a stifled voice.

“Who are you? I warn you that I shall fire.”

“I am the butcher’s servant, your honour. They came and told Mr. McCarthy that from to-day he is forbidden to supply your honour with anything at all. Mr. McCarthy wished that your honour should at least have time to get straight. He therefore sends two legs of mutton, which I have brought, but I was much afraid I should never reach the house! Two men are already standing as sentinels at the gate. I saw them arrive, and I crept through a gap in the hedge. But for the love of God, your honour, take your mutton quickly and let me go. I shall go back by the river, walking in the water, and I hope they won’t see me leave the park. But then, if they should see me, I can say that I left the master’s house before he received the order from the League.”

Mr. Thompson took the mutton and shut the door, feeling very uneasy at the turn affairs were taking. However, the night passed quietly. The following morning, well armed, he went out to reconnoitre; on the side of the road, in front of his gate, he saw two peasants standing, leaning against a tree; whilst he looked at them he saw two others arrive from the town. They exchanged a few words with the first two and then took their places. They were day sentinels who relieved those who had watched through the night.

He went towards the outhouses. The yard men had already left some time before, but the household had up till then continued in his service. Every one had disappeared during the night. The two old servants who had slept in the house were the only ones left, and they were quite drunk already, but swore that they were ready to die for their good master, who found himself obliged to feed his horses, for they were not in a state to do it.

“That is how my boycotting began,” said Mr. Thompson as he ended his recital; “and now it has lasted six years!” he added philosophically. “But here we are!”

The train had just stopped before a small isolated station in the middle of some fields, for the town is between two and three miles from the station. Shaunganeen, like Castle Connell, has had its days of splendour. It is, however, one of the few localities in this country which has not been the capital of a kingdom, but a saint with a very complicated name settled here towards the seventh century, and attracted, says history, by the fertility of the soil and the favourable dispositions of the inhabitants, he founded an abbey which soon became celebrated. Only a few rather fine ruins remain of the monastery, and the city, which, until 1787 was represented in Parliament by two members, is now only a large and rather miserable town. The station yard presented an interesting spectacle. In the centre an old coachman was standing holding with one hand a very handsome cob harnessed to a dog-cart, and with the other a grey donkey harnessed to a small cart. The first of these vehicles was intended for us, the second for our luggage. Half a dozen urchins in wonderful rags were standing round contemplating the group, with their hands in their pockets; and there, calm and serious, a gigantic constable stood on the quay, a switch in one hand, benevolently standing to be admired by the population.

The old servant greeted us with such a lugubrious gesture of the head, and his whole appearance denoted such extreme dejection, that I saw Mr. Thompson turn visibly paler.