Patricians and Plebians. Irish poets. Misdirection of travellers.

Chapter XII

Patricians and Plebians

The three classes of gentlemen in Ireland described - Irish poets - Mr. Thomas Punter and D. Henesey - The bard - Peculiarities of the peasants - Their ludicrous misinformation as to distances accounted for - Civility of a waiter - Their equivocation and misdirection of travellers to different places.

I will now proceed to lay before the reader a brief but more general sketch of the state of Irish society at the period of my youth, reminding him of the princip1e which I have before assumed - namely, that of considering anecdotes, bon-mots, and such like, valuable only as they tend to exemplify interesting facts, relative to history or manners: many such I have inserted in these fragments; and as I have been careful throughout to avoid mere inventions, my reader need not by any means reserve their perusal for the study of his travelling carriage.

Miss Edgeworth, in her admirable sketch of *Castle Rackrent; *gives a faithful picture of the Irish character under the circumstances which she has selected; and the account that I am about to give may serve as a kind of supplement to that little work, as well as an elucidation of the habits and manners of Irish country society about the period Miss Edgeworth alludes to, and somewhat later.

In those days, then, the common people ideally separated the gentry of the country into three classes, and treated each class according to the relative degree of respect to which they considered it was entitled.

They generally divided them thus:-

1. *Half-mounted *gentlemen.

2. Gentlemen every *inch of them.

*3. Gentlemen to the backbone.

The first-named class formed the only species of independent yeomanry then existing in Ireland. They were the descendants of the small grantees of Queen Elizabeth Cromwell, and King William; possessed about 200** acres of land each, in fee farm, from the Crown; and were occasionally admitted into the society of gentlemen, particularly hunters, living at other times amongst each other with an intermixture of their own servants, with whom they were always on terms of intimacy. They generally had good clever horses, which could leap over anything, but had never felt the trimming-scissors or currycomb. The riders commonly wore buckskin breeches, and boots well greased - blacking was never used in the country - and carried large thong whips heavily loaded with lead at the butt-end, so that they were always prepared either to horsewhip a man or knock his brains out, as circumstances might dictate. These half-mounted gentlemen exercised the hereditary authority of keeping the ground clear at horse-races, hurlings, and all public meetings, as the soldiers keep the lines at a review. Their business was to ride round **the inside of the ground, which they generally did with becoming spirit, trampling over some, knocking down others, and slashing everybody who encroached on the proper limits. Bones being but very *seldom broken, and skulls still seldomer fractured, everybody approved of their exertions, because all the bystanders gained therefrom a full view of the sport which was going forward. A shout of merriment was *always set up when a half-mounted gentleman knocked down an interloper; and some of the *poets *present, if they had an opportunity, roared out their verses by way of a song to encourage the gentlemen.

[I recollect an example of those good-humoured madrigals. A poet, called Daniel Bran, sang it aloud as he himself lay sprawling on the grass, after having been knocked down and ridden over by old Squire Flood, who shewed no mercy in the “execution of his duty.”

“There was Despard so brave, That son of the wave,

And Tom Conway, the pride of the bower;

But noble Squire Flood

Swore, G-d d-n his blood!

But he’d drown them all m the Delower.”]

The second class, or gentlemen every *inch of them, *were of excellent old families, whose finances were not in so good order as they might have been, but who were popular amongst all ranks. They were far above the first degree, somewhat inferior to the third, but had great influence, were much beloved, and carried more sway at popular elections and general county meetings than the other two classes put together.

The third class, or gentlemen to the *backbone, *were of the oldest families and settlers, universally respected, and idolised by the peasantry, although they also were generally a little out at elbows. Their word was law, their nod would have immediately collected an army of cottagers, or colliers, or whatever the population was composed off. Men, women, and children, were always ready and willing to execute anything “the squire” required, without the slightest consideration as to either its danger or propriety.

A curious circumstance, perhaps, rendered my family peculiarly popular. The common people had conceived the notion that the lord of Cullenaghmore had a right to save a man’s life every summer assizes at Maryborough; and it did frequently so happen, within my recollection, that my father’s* *intercession in favour of some poor deluded creatures (when the White Boy system was in activity), was kindly attended to by the Government; and certainly, besides this number, many others of his tenants owed their lives to similar interference.

But it was wise in the Government to accede to such representations, since their concession never failed to create such an influence in my father’s person over the tenantry, that he was enabled to preserve them in perfect tranquillity, whilst those surrounding were in a constant state of insubordination to all law whatever.

I recollect a Mr. Tom Flinter, of Timahoe, one of the first-class gentlemen, who had speculated in cows and sheep, and everything he could buy up, till his establishment was reduced to one blunt faithful fellow, Dick Henesey, who stuck to him throughout all his vicissitudes. Flinter had once on a time got a trifle of money, which was burning in his greasy pocket, and he wanted to expend it at a neighbouring fair! where his whole history, as well as the history of every man of his half-mounted contemporaries, was told in a few verses, by a fellow called Ned the dog-stealer, but who was also a *great poet; *and resided in the neighbourhood.

[They were considered as a standing joke for many years in that part of the country, and ran as follows

Dialogue between Tom Flinter and his Man. *

Tom Flinter*. Dick! said he.

Dick Henesy. What? said he.

Tom Flinter. Fetch me my hat, says he;

For I will go, says he;

To Timahoe, says he;

To buy the fair, says he;

And all that’s there, says he.

*Dick Henesy. *Arrah! *pay what you owe! *said he;

And *then *you may go, says he;

To Tinahoe, says he;

To buy the fair, says he;

And all that’S there, says he.

*Tom Flinter. *Well! by this and by that, said he;

Dick! hang up my hat! says he.]

In travelling through Ireland a stranger is very frequently puzzled by the singular ways, and especially by the idiomatic equivocation characteristic of every Irish peasant. Some years back, more particularly, these men were certainly originals - quite unlike any other people whatever. Many an hour of curious entertainment has been afforded me by their eccentricities; yet though always fond of prying into the remote sources of these national peculiarities, I must frankly confess that, with all my pains, I never was able to develop half of them, except by one sweeping observation - namely, that the brains and tongues of the Irish are somehow differently formed or furnished from those of other people.

One general hint which I beg to impress upon all travellers in Hibernia, is the following: that if they shew a disposition towards kindness, together with a moderate familiarity, and *affect *to be *inquisitive, *whether so or not, the Irish peasant will outdo them tenfold in every one of these dispositions. But if a man is haughty and overbearing, he had better take care of himself.

I have often heard it remarked and complained of by travellers and strangers, that they never could get a true answer from any Irish peasant as to *distances *when on a journey. For many years I myself thought it most unaccountable. If you meet a peasant on your journey and ask him how far, for instance, to Ballinrobe? he will probably say it is *“three short *miles.” You travel on, and are informed by the next peasant you meet, that it is *“ftve long *miles.” On you go, and the next will tell “your honour” it is *“four miles, *or about that same.” The fourth will swear “if your honour stops at *three *miles you ‘ll never get there!” But on pointing to a town just before you, and inquiring what place that is, he replies,

“Oh! plaze your honour, that’s Ballinrobe, sure enough!’

“Why, you said it was more than three miles off!”

“Oh yes! to be sure and sartain, that’s from my *own cabin, *plaze your honour. We’re no scholards in this country. Arrah! how can we tell any distance, plaze your honour, but from our own *little cabins? *Nobody but the schoolmaster knows that, plaze your honour.”

Thus is the mystery unravelled. When you ask any peasant the distance of the place you require, he never computes it from where you *then are, *but from his *own cabin; *so that if you asked 20, in all probability you would. have as many different answers, and not one of them correct. But it is to be observed, that frequently you can get no reply at all, unless you understand Irish.

In parts of Kerry and Mayo, however, I have met with peasants who speak Latin not badly. On the election of Sir John Brown for the County of Mayo, Counsellor Thomas Moore and I went down as his counsel. The weather was desperately severe. At a solitary inn, where we were obliged to stop for horses, we requested dinner, upon which the waiter laid a cloth that certainly exhibited every species of dirt ever invented. We called, and remonstrating with him, ordered a clean cloth. He was a low, fat fellow, with a countenance perfectly immovable, and seeming to have scarcely a single muscle in it. He nodded, and on our return to the room, which we had quitted during the interval, we found, instead of a clean cloth, that he had only folded up the filthy one into the thickness of a cushion. We now scolded away in good earnest. He looked at us with the greatest *sangfroid; *and said sententiously, “Nemo me impune lacessit.”

He kept his word; when we had proceeded about four miles in deep snow, and through a desperate night, on a bleak road, one of the wheels came off the carriage and down we went! We were at least two miles from *any *house. The driver cursed in Irish Michael the waiter, who, he said, had put a *new *wheel upon the carriage, which had turned out to be an *old *one, and had broken to pieces.

We had to march through the snow to a wretched cottage, and sit up all night to get a genuine *new wheel *ready for the morning.

The Irish peasant also never answers any question directly: in some districts, if you ask him where such a gentleman’s house is, he will point and reply, ” Does your honour see that large house there all amongst the trees, with a green field before it?” You answer, ” Yes.” ” Well,” says he, “plaze your honour that’s not it.* ***But do you see the big brick house with the cowhouses by the side of that same, and a pond of water?” “Yes.”

“Well, plaze your honour, *that’s *not it. But, if you plaze, look quite to the right of that same house, and you’ll see the top of a castle amongst the trees there, with a road going down to it betune the bushes.”

Yes.”

“Well, plaze your honour, *that’s not it *neither; but if your honour will come down this bit of a road a couple of miles I’ll shew it you *sure enough *- and if your honour’s in a hurry I can run on hot foot;~ and tell the squire your honour’s *galloping after *me. Ah! who shall I tell the squire, plaze your honour, is coming to see him? he ‘5 my own landlord, God save his honour day and night I

[Hot foot: A figurative expression for “with all possible speed” - used *by *the Irish peasants: by taking short cuts, and fairly hopping along, a young peasant would beat any good traveller.]

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