“Very true; it is a flat, monotonous-looking country, and poor besides; but nothing like what I remember it as a boy.”
“You surely do not mean that the people were ever worse off than they seem now to be?”
“Ay, a hundred times worse off. They may be rack-rented and over-taxed in some instances now,—not as many as you would suppose, after all,—but then, they were held in actual slavery, nearly famished, and all but naked; no roads, no markets; subject to the caprice of the landowners on every occasion in life, and the faction fights—those barbarous vestiges of a rude time—kept up and encouraged by those who should have set the better example of mutual charity and good feeling. These unhappy practices have not disappeared, but they are far less frequent than formerly; and however the confession may seem to you a sad one, to me there is a pride in saying, Ireland is improving.”
“It is hard to conceive a people more miserably off than these,” said Forester, with a sigh.
“So they seem to your eyes; but let me remark that there is a transition state between rude barbarism and civilization which always appears more miserable than either; habits of life which suggest wants that can rarely, if ever, be supplied. The struggle between poverty and the desire for better, is a bitter conflict, and such is the actual condition of this people. You are young enough to witness the fruits of the reformation; I am too old ever to hope to see them, but I feel assured that the day is coming.”
“I like your theory well; it has Hope for its ally,” said Forester, as he gazed on the benevolent features of the old squire.
“It has even better, sir, it has truth; and hence it is that the peasantry, as they approach nearer to the capital,—the seat of civilization,—have fewest of those traits that please or attract strangers; they are in the transition state I speak of; while down in my wild country, you can see them in their native freshness, reckless and improvident, but light-hearted and happy.”
“Where may the country be you speak of, sir?” said Forester.
“The Far West, beside the Atlantic. You have heard of Mayo?”
“Oh, that is my destination at this moment; I am going beyond Westport, to visit one of the chieftains there. I have not the honor to know him, but I conclude that his style of living and habits will not be a bad specimen of the gentry customs generally.”