Disturbed Ireland | Page 7

question as to
the whereabouts of a public meeting to be held yesterday morning, with
the patriotic object of striking terror into the hearts of landlords and
agents. It was delivered without appearance of excitement or emotion
of any kind, the demeanour of the speaker being quite as simple as that
of Wessex Hodge when he recommends one to go straight on past the
Craven Arms, and then bear round by the Dog and Duck till the great
house comes in sight. Tiernaur, I gathered, was about fifteen miles to
the north-west along Clew Bay towards Ballycroy. It is called Newfield
Chapel on the Ordnance map, but is always spoken of here by its native
name. It is invested with more than the mere transient interest attaching
to the place of an open-air meeting, for it is the centre of a district
subject to chronic disturbance, and is just now the scene of serious
trouble, or what would appear serious trouble in any less turbulent part
of the country. It is necessary to be exact in describing what occurs

here, as a phrase may easily be construed to imply much more than is
intended. When it is said that the country between Westport and
Ballycroy is disturbed, and that law and order are set at defiance, it
must not be imagined that the roads are unsafe for travellers, or that any
ordinary person is liable to be shot at, beaten, robbed, or insulted. I
have no hesitation in stating that a stranger may go anywhere in the
county, at any hour of the day or night, alone and unarmed, and that
even in country inns he need take no precautions against robbery. Mayo
people do not steal, and if they shot a stranger, it would only be by
mistake for a Scotch farmer or an English agent. And I am sure that the
accident would be sincerely deplored by the warm-hearted natives. I
have thought it well to master all the details of the Tiernaur difficulty,
because it is a perfect type of the agrarian troubles which agitate the
West. In the first place the reader will clearly understand that English
and Scotch landlords, agents, and farmers, are as a rule abhorred by the
Irish population. It is perhaps hardly my province to decide who is to
blame. Difference of manner may go for a great deal, but beyond and
below the resentment caused by a prompt, decisive, and perhaps
imperious tone, lies a deeply-rooted sense of wrong--logically or
illogically arrived at. The evictions of the last third of a century and the
depopulation of large tracts of country have filled the hearts of the
people with revenge, and, rightly or wrongly, they not only blame the
landlord but the occupier of the land. If, they argue, there had been no
Englishmen and Scotchmen to take large farms, the small holders
would not have been swept away, and "driven like a wild goose on the
mountain" to make room for them. Without for the present discussing
the reasonableness of this plea, I merely record the simple fact that an
English or Scotch farmer is unpopular from the beginning. Here and
there such a one as Mr. Simpson may manage to live the prejudice
down; but that he will have to encounter it on his arrival is absolutely
certain.
This being the case, it is not to be wondered at that when the late Mr.
Hunter, a Scotchman, took a large grazing farm at Tiernaur, his arrival
was at once regarded in a hostile spirit. The land he occupied was let to
him by two adjoining proprietors, Mr. Gibbings, of Trinity College,
Dublin, and Mr. Stoney, of Rossturk Castle, near at hand. There was a

convenient dwelling-house on the part of the farm looking over Clew
Bay towards Clare Island, and all was apparently smooth and pleasant.
No sooner, however, was Mr. Hunter established there than a difficulty
arose. The inhabitants of the surrounding country had been in the habit
of cutting turf and pulling sedge on parts of the mountain and bog
included within the limits of Mr. Hunter's farm. It is only fair to the
memory of the deceased gentleman to state that such rights are
frequently paid for, and that he had not taken the farm subject to any
"turbary" rights or local customs. Accordingly he demanded payment
from the people, who objected that they had always cut turf and pulled
sedge on the mountain; that they could not live without turf for fuel and
sedge to serve first as winter bedding for their cattle and afterwards as
manure; that except on Mr. Hunter's mountain neither turf nor sedge
could be got within any reasonable distance; and, finally, that they had
always enjoyed such right. And so forth. As this