The Letters of "Norah" on Her Tour Through Ireland

by Norah

The new tower is built after the fashion of the ancient towers with the spiral staircase, that was common to all castles and abbeys of the west. The mason work was much coarser and more roughly done, but the imitation of the ancient tower was very good other ways. I do not believe that modern masons could produce so perfect a specimen of workmanship as the tower of Moyne Abbey, with its spiral staircase of black marble. The view from the top of the tower at Ashford repaid well the expenditure of breath to climb up to it.

The house is a castle and made after the pattern of ancient castles; it is large and must contain any amount of lofty and spacious rooms, which it is to be supposed are furnished as luxuriously and magnificently as possible. It is certainly a very fine building, and looks as nice and new as stone and mortar can make it, but the ivy green will soon cover it all up with its green mantle. We were not able to walk over even the allowed portion of the grounds, as they extended for miles. We parted from our gentlemanly conductor at a certain gate. He was so nice that we felt almost ashamed to offer the expected gratuity which was, however, thankfully received.

I pondered a little way over the man's remarks who had been our guide through the demesne. He always kept repeating that we might have been shown the gardens and the house, but for the disturbance in the country. I wondered to hear hints of trouble on this estate, for no man, woman or child, with whom I conversed, but spoke highly of the generosity, magnanimity and kindliness of Lord Ardilaun, and his father before him. I have seen in his lordship's own writing and over his signature the statement that, during prosperous years, even, the rent has not been raised, that he had for years spent on his property more than double the rental in improvements and for labor. When I read this I thought of the causeway raised along the brow of a hill over which I walked in the demesne, I thought at the time what an amount of labor was expended to place it there. There has also been made an addition to the castle, which must have given a great deal of employment. Some, or rather a great deal of the property was bought from the late Earl of Leitrim, who had raised the rents, it is asserted, to the "highest top sparkle" before selling, to enhance the value.

I do not know anything of the value of land here; it is very stony land. I was pointed out a field which was not very stony, comparatively speaking, but still had more stones, or stony crust rather, than a good farmer would desire. I was told it paid L2 per acre. I wonder how it is possible to raise rent and taxes off these fields, never to mention support for the farmers. The land requires very stimulating manure to produce a crop. When bad years come, and render the tenant farmers unable to purchase guano, the crops are worthless almost. The necessity of buying artificial manure is a terrible necessity that American farmers know nothing of.

I dare say the tenants expect too much in many instances, for they are accustomed to be treated as children in leading strings. The amount of dependence on this one and that one in superior stations is very wonderful, but their utter helplessness to take the first step toward better times is also wonderful. I have heard of men, by the last bad seasons unable to buy guano, having to strip the roofs off their houses that the rain may wash off the soot into the land to fructify it. On account of shelter for game, it is not permissible to cut heather for bedding, for stock, or covering for houses. Breaking this prohibition even on land for which they pay rent and taxes is, they complain, punished with fines of from two and sixpence to seven and sixpence for as much as could be carried on the back.

For a farmer to get on here he must be able to buy manure. The crop on a farm has to pay rent, which is high, and taxes, which are heavy, even if no guard for somebody has to be paid for, or no malicious outrage is levied for on the county in compensation, and manure, which, if got before paying, is charged, I am told, twenty-five percent additional for waiting; all this must be met before the support of the family can be thought of beyond merely existing. The more one looks at the want of the people, the more one becomes bewildered with the perplexities of the situation, and the more hopeless about the setting of things right by the Land Bill or anything else.

It is pleasant to hear on all sides praises of Lord Ardilaun as a high- spirited, generous man. The slight difference of opinion between him and his people is blamed on the fact of his not being able to understand how poor the tenants are, or how what is little in his eyes may be life or death to them. There was some trouble, I believe, about the building of a causeway across to some sacred island, which was built by the people without leave asked, or in spite of prohibition given; but in the main I think that Lord Ardilaun is very much loved.

How it does rain in this green land. I think it rained every day of the days I remained at Cong except the blink of sunshine that shone on the castle and grounds the day that I went over part of the Ashford demesne.

At Cong, for the first time in my life, I heard the Irish lament or caoine for the dead. Some one was brought in from the country to be buried in the Abbey of Cong. It was a simple country funeral. The dead was borne on one of the carts of the country, followed by the neighbors, and accompanied by the parish priest of Cong. The day was very wet even for Ireland. After the burial service was over the women, kneeling by the new made grave, among the rank wet grass, and the dripping ivy, raised the caoine. It was a most unearthly sound, sweet like singing, sad like crying, rising up among the ruined towers, and clinging ivy and floating up heavenwards. I believe the stories of banshees must have arisen from the sound of the caoine. These mourning women were very skilful, I was told, and were relations of the dead whom they mourned, and whose good qualities mingled with their love and grief rose in wailing cry and floated weirdly over the ruins and up to the clouds.

I had at this time an invitation from Mr. Sydney Bellingham to come over to Castle Bellingham to see life from another standpoint. I was standing at the window debating with myself. I did not like to leave the West before seeing a little more of it, and I do want, in the interests of truth, to look at things from every available standpoint. If I go to Castle Bellingham I must go now, I reasoned, for after this they go to England. As I stood there thinking, a handsome car dashed past with a gentleman and lady on it, followed by another with a guard of policemen. I enquired who this guarded gentleman was, and was told it was that Mr. Bourke who went into the Catholic church armed to the teeth.