This is a part of her first letter. To those unversed in Ireland and her ways, the latter may appear incredible, “nay, sometimes even terrible,” as Ruskin says of the pine-trees; but as I think that enlightenment is good for the soul, I shall continue to give the history of the renewal of Ross, as set forth in Martin’s letters, and these may present to the English reader (to whom I would specially commend the incident of the children’s tea-party, in all its bearings) a new and not uninteresting facet in the social life of the most paradoxical country in the world.
V. F. M. to E. Œ. S. (July ’88. Ross.)
“I had not heard of F.’s death. It was a shock. He seemed a thoroughly alive and practical person. I don’t know why it should be touching that he should rave of his hounds to the end, but it is. I suppose any shred of the ordinary interests is precious in a strange unnatural thing, like dying. I think often of a thing that a countrywoman here said to me the other day, apropos of her sons going away from her to America.
“‘But what use is it to cry, even if ye dhragged the hair out o’ yer head! Ye might as well be singin’ an’ dancin’.’
“She was crying when she said it, and was a wild-looking creature whom you would like to paint, and the thing altogether stays in my mind. (And now abides in the mouth of Norry the Boat, in “The Real Charlotte.”)
“Your letter spent 2 hours after its arrival in Nurse Barrett’s pocket, while I entertained some thirty of the children about here. Tea, and bread and jam, and barm bracks”—(a sort of sweet loaf, made with barm, and “brack” i.e. “spotted,” with currants)—“in the lawn, and races afterwards. I had a very wearying day. Cutting up food in the morning, and then at luncheon I received a great shock. I had asked a girl who teaches a National School to bring 12 of her best scholars, and besides these, we had only invited about half a dozen. At luncheon in comes the teacher’s sister to say that the teacher had gone to Galway ‘on business,’ and that no children were coming. Boycotted, I thought at once. However I thought I would make an effort, even though I was told that the priest must have vetoed the whole thing, and I sent a whip round to the near villages, which are loyal, and away I went myself to two more. I never had such a facer as thinking the children were to be kept away, and with that I nearly cried while I was pelting over the fields. I could only find six children, of whom three were too young to come, and one was a Land Leaguer’s. However two were to be had, and I pelted home again, very anxious. There I found the half dozen I knew would come, and divil another. I waited, and after I had begun to feel very low, I saw a little throng on the back avenue, poor little things, with their best frocks, such as they were. I could have kissed them, but gave them tea instead, and before it was over another bunch of children, including babies in arms, arrived, and there was great hilarity. I never shall understand what was the matter about the teacher. She is a nice girl, but they are all cowards, and she may have thought she was running a risk. She was here to-day, with a present of eggs and white cabbage, which was a peace offering, of course.”
In those bad times this form of stabbing friendship in the back was very popular. I remember how, a few years earlier, a Christmas feast to over a hundred National School children was effectively boycotted, the sole reason being a resolve on the part of the ruling powers to discourage anything so unseasonable as Peace on Earth and good will towards ladies. These dark ages are now, for the most part, past. Possibly, some day, a people naturally friendly and kind-hearted will be permitted to realise that patriotism means loving their country, instead of hating their neighbours.
At Ross, happily, the hostile influence had but small strength for evil. Had it been even stronger, I think it would not long have withstood the appeal that was made to the chivalry of the people by the gallant fight to restore the old ways, the old friendship.
Martin’s letter continues:
“The presents are very touching, but rather embarrassing, and last week there was a great flow of them; they included butter, eggs, a chicken, and a bottle of port; all from different tenants, some very poor. An experience of last week was going to see a party of sisters who are tenants, and work their farm themselves. In the twinkling of an eye I was sitting ‘back in the room,’ with the sisterhood exhausting themselves in praise of my unparalleled beauty, and with a large glass of potheen before me, which I knew had got to be taken somehow. It was much better than I expected, and I got through a respectable amount of it before handing it on with a flourish to one of my hostesses, which was looked on as the height of politeness. I wish I could remember some of the criticisms that went on all the time.