Rackrenters on the Stump
A Remarkable Demonstration
The first public meeting held under the auspices of the newly-formed Irish landlord organisation was held on Thursday last, in a field close by the charming residence of W. L. Cromwellian Freebooter, Esq., J.P., and is considered by all who took part in it to have been a great success. The Government gave the heartiest co-operation to the project; they undertook to supply the audience; they sent an engineer from the Royal Barracks, Dublin, to select a strategic site for the meeting, and to superintend the erection of the platform; and they offered any amount of artillery that might be considered requisite to give an imposing appearance to the assembly, and to inspire a feeling of confidence in the breasts of those who were to take part in it. All the police stations within a radius of thirty miles were ordered to send in contingents to form the body of the meeting, and a number of military pensioners were also directed to proceed to the spot and exert themselves in cheering the speakers. When the meeting was fully constituted it was calculated that there could hardly have been less than two hundred and fifty persons on the grounds.
At about one o’clock P.M. the carriages containing the noble lords and gentlemen who were to occupy the platform began to arrive at Freebooter Hall, where they set down the ladies of the party, who were to figure in the grand ball which was to be held there that evening. At 1.30 the noblemen and gentlemen proceeded to the scene of the meeting, and took their places on the platform, amidst the plaudits of the constabulary, which were again renewed in obedience to signals given by the sub-inspectors. The view from the platform, which was situated on a rising ground, was particularly fine. Some years ago a number of peasant homes and three considerable villages existed on the property; but Mr. Freebooter, being of opinion that they spoiled the prospect and tended to favour overpopulation in the country, had the people all evicted and their houses levelled to the ground. The wisdom and the good taste he had shown in this matter were highly praised by their lordships as they made their way up the carpeted steps leading to the platform, and took their seats on the chairs and sofas which had been placed there for their accommodation. The meeting having presented arms, it was moved by the Hon. Frederick Augustus Mightyswell, and seconded by George Famous Grabber, Esq., that the most noble the Marquis of Squanderall do take the chair.
The noble marquis said—My lords and gentlemen, I may say I thank you for having called me—that is, for the honour you have done me in having called me to have the honour of presiding over this, I may say, important meeting. (Cheers.) I have come over from London—I may say across the Channel—to have the honour of attending this meeting, because we all know these tenant fellows have been allowed to have this sort of thing too long to themselves. (Hear, hear, and cheers.) There have been, I may say, hundreds of these meetings, at which the fellows say they want to get their rents reduced, that their crops were short, that they must keep their families from starving, and all that sort of rot. How can we help it if their crops were short? (Hear, hear.) How can we help it if they have families to support? (Cheers.) The idiots talk about our rents being three or four times more than Griffith’s valuation; if that be so, I may say, more shame for the fellow Griffith, whoever he was. (Groans for Griffith.) Are we to be robbed because Griffith was an ass? (Cheers.) My lords and gentlemen, I shall not detain you longer—(cries of “Go on” from several sub-inspectors)—but will call upon, I may say, my eloquent friend, Lord Deliverus, who will propose the first resolution. (Loud and long-continued cheering from the constabulary.)
Lord Deliverus—My dear Squanderall, my good friends, and other persons, you know I am not accustomed to this sort of thing, but I have been asked to propose the following resolution:—
“That we regret to notice that the unbounded prosperity which is being enjoyed by the small farmers and the labouring classes of Ireland is having a very bad effect on them, leading them into all sorts of extravagance, and producing among them an insolent and rebellious spirit, and that in the interest of morality and public safety we consider it absolutely necessary that the rents of the country shall be increased by about 100 per cent.”
Now, my friends, this is a resolution which must waken a sympathetic echo in the bosom of every rightly-constituted gentleman of property. Do we not all know, have we not all seen, the lamentable changes that have taken place in this country? Twenty years ago not half the population indulged in the luxury of shoes and stockings, and the labouring classes never thought of wearing waistcoats; now, most of them take care to provide themselves with these things. Where do they get the money to buy them but out of our rents? (True, true.) Twenty years ago they were satisfied if they could get a few potatoes to live upon each day, and a very good, wholesome, simple food they were for such people. (Hear, hear.) But latterly some bad instructors have got amongst them, and now the blackguards will not be contented unless they have rashers two or three times a week. (Oh, oh.) Where do they get the money for these rashers? (Voices—“Out of our rents.”) Yes, my friends, out of our rents. They rob us to supply themselves with delicacies of this kind. Eight or ten years ago we could bring up the fellows to vote for us; now they do as they like. (Groans.) And now the fellows say we must give them a reduction of their rents! (A voice—“Give them an ounce of lead.”) The rascals say they won’t starve. (Oh, oh, and groans.) They say they will feed themselves first, and then consider if they have anything to spare for us. (Shrieks and groans on the platform—Colonel Hardup faints.) They say the life of any one among them is just as precious as the life of any one of us. (Expressions of horror on all sides—Lord Tomnoddy looks unutterably disgusted, changes colour, puts his hand on his stomach, and retires hastily to the back of the platform.) My friends, I need not tell you that the Government is bound to put them down at any cost. (Tremendous cheering.) Just think what would result from any considerable reduction of our incomes; why, most of us might have to remain in this wretched country, for we would be ashamed to return in reduced circumstances to London and Paris; we should have fewer horses, fewer yachts, fewer servants, less champagne, less Italian opera, no rouge et noir—think, my friends, of the number of charming establishments from London to Vienna that would feel the shock. (Sobs and moans on the platform.) Would life be worth living under such circumstances? (No, no.) No, my lords and gentlemen, it would not; and therefore we are entitled to call upon the Government to interfere promptly and with a strong hand to stop the spread of those subversive theories that are now being taught to the lower classes in this country. (Great applause.)
A. D. Shoneen, Esq., J.P., came forward to second the resolution. He said—My lords and gentlemen, I feel that I need not add a word, even if I were able to do so, to the beautiful, the eloquent, the argumentative, the thrilling oration you have just heard from the estimable Lord Deliverus. I will not attempt to describe that magnificent performance in the language it deserves, for the task would far transcend my humble capacity. But I do think that this country should feel grateful—every country should feel grateful—the human race should feel grateful—to his lordship for the invaluable contribution he has made to the sum of our political philosophy in that address. I own I am moved almost to tears when I consider that the people whose conduct has excited such righteous indignation in the breast of his lordship, and so affected the epigastric region of that most amiable young nobleman, Viscount Tomnoddy—are my countrymen. I blush to make the confession, I am so overcome by my feelings that I am unable to do more than briefly second the resolution, which has been proposed to you in words that deserve to live for ever, and that mankind will not willingly let die. (The resolution was passed unanimously.)
Major Bearhead came forward to propose the next resolution, which was in the following terms:—“That, from the unlawful, rebellious, and revolutionary spirit which is now abroad, we deem it essential that a suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act shall at once be effected, that martial law shall be proclaimed in all disturbed districts, that all land agitators shall be at once arrested, and all tenant-right books, pamphlets, and newspapers shall be confiscated and suppressed.”
The gallant Major said—My lords and gentlemen, ahem! you may talk of resolutions, but this is the resolution that is wanted. Ahem! by the soul of Julius Cæsar, it is only such spirited measures that will ever settle this confounded Irish trouble. Ahem! the fellows want reductions—by the boots of the immortal Wellington, I would reduce them with grape and canister; that’s the reduction I would give them! Thunder and lightning—ahem! thunder and lightning! to think that these agitating fellows have been going about the country these twelve months, and not one of them shot, sabred, or hanged yet! Two or three fellows were put under a sort of sham arrest, and I am told they are to be tried; trial be damned, I say. Ahem! a drum-head court-martial is the sort of trial for them. No fear they would ever trouble the country afterwards. Let the Horse-Guards only send me word, “Bearhead, you settle with these people,” and see how soon I’d do it. (Cheers.) By all the bombshells in Britain, I’d have the country as quiet as a churchyard in two months. That is enough for me to say—ahem! (Great cheering.)
The Hon. Charles Edward Algernon Featherhead, in seconding the resolution, said—My lords, ladies, and gentlemen—oh, I really forgot that the ladies are not present, which I take to be a dooced pity, for, as the poet says, “Their smiles would make a summer”—oh, yes, I have it—“where darkness else would be.” (Applause.) I can’t say I know much about these blooming agricultural matters, for on my word of honour I always looked on them as a low, vulgar sort of thing, and all my set of fellows do just the same; but my old governor wished me to come here and take part in the proceedings, and I have a little reason for wishing to humour him just now. But, as I was saying, I don’t see how any sort of fun can go on if we are not to get money from these farming fellows. It may be very true that oats were not worth digging this season, and that potatoes were very short in the straw and very light in the ear; but then, on the other hand, was there not a plentiful supply of cucumbers? (Cheers.) We hear a great deal about American importations, but it seems to me that’s the jolliest part of the whole thing, because surely the farming fellows can’t want to eat the American food and the Irish food both together. Let them eat the Yankee stuff, and then sell the Irish and give us the money, and there’s the whole thing settled handsomely. It’s their confounded stupidity that prevents them seeing this plain and simple way of satisfying themselves and us. For, as the poet says, “Is there a heart that never loved?”—no, that’s not it—“When the wine-cup is circling before us”—no, I forget what the poet said, but no matter: I beg to say that I highly approve of the toast which has just been proposed. (The resolution was carried unanimously.)
Sir Nathaniel H. Castlehack wished to offer a few remarks before the close of the meeting. It appeared to him that the tone of some of the speakers had not shown quite as much confidence in the Government as in his opinion they deserved. I do not think (said the speaker) that the arrests which have been referred to were at all intended to be a flash in the pan, for I have reason to know that at this moment the jury panels are being carefully looked after by the authorities—(good, good)—and I think I may say to the gallant major who has just preceded me, and whose zeal for the public cause we all must recognise and admire, that if he will only exercise to some extent the virtue of patience, and allow things to take their regular course, he will probably ere long have the opportunity which he desires for again distinguishing himself and rendering the State some service.... Don’t be afraid, my friends; rely with confidence on the Government; they will give to this unreasonable and turbulent people everything but what they want.
A scene of immense enthusiasm followed these remarks. The gentlemen on the platform embraced each other; the band of the 33rd Dragoons struck up “God save the Queen,” and the constabulary fired a feu de joie. The meeting was then put through some evolutions, which they performed in brilliant style, after which they broke into sections and marched off to their different stations. Their lordships and the gentry then proceeded to their carriages, and drove off to Freebooter Hall. They expressed themselves highly pleased with the results of the demonstration, and stated that similar meetings would soon be held in various parts of the country.
T. D. Sullivan (1827).
LANIGAN’S BALL.
In the town of Athy one Jeremy Lanigan
Battered away till he hadn’t a pound,
His father he died and made him a man again,
Left him a house and ten acres of ground!
He gave a grand party to friends and relations
Who wouldn’t forget him if he went to the wall;
And if you’ll just listen, I’ll make your eyes glisten
With the rows and the ructions of Lanigan’s ball.
Myself, to be sure, got free invitations
For all the nice boys and girls I’d ask,
And in less than a minute the friends and relations
Were dancing as merry as bees round a cask.
Miss Kitty O’Hara, the nice little milliner,
Tipped me the wink for to give her a call,
And soon I arrived with Timothy Glenniher
Just in time for Lanigan’s ball.
There was lashins of punch and wine for the ladies,
Potatoes and cakes and bacon and tay,
The Nolans, the Dolans, and all the O’Gradys
Were courting the girls and dancing away.
Songs they sung as plenty as water,
From “The Harp that once through Tara’s ould Hall,”
To “Sweet Nelly Gray” and “The Ratcatcher’s Daughter,”
All singing together at Lanigan’s ball.
They were starting all sorts of nonsensical dances,
Turning around in a nate whirligig;
But Julia and I soon scatthered their fancies,
And tipped them the twist of a rale Irish jig.
Och mavrone! ’twas then she got glad o’ me:
We danced till we thought the old ceilin’ would fall,
(For I spent a whole fortnight in Doolan’s Academy
Learning a step for Lanigan’s ball).
The boys were all merry, the girls were all hearty,
Dancin’ around in couples and groups,
When an accident happened—young Terence McCarthy
He dhruv his right foot through Miss Halloran’s hoops.
The creature she fainted, and cried “Millia murther!”
She called for her friends and gathered them all;
Ned Carmody swore he’d not stir a step further,
But have satisfaction at Lanigan’s ball.
In the midst of the row Miss Kerrigan fainted—
Her cheeks all the while were as red as the rose—
And some of the ladies declared she was painted,
She took a small drop too much, I suppose.
Her lover, Ned Morgan, so pow’rful and able,
When he saw his dear colleen stretched out by the wall,
He tore the left leg from under the table,
And smashed all the china at Lanigan’s ball.
Oh, boys, but then was the ructions—
Myself got a lick from big Phelim McHugh,
But I soon replied to his kind introductions,
And kicked up a terrible hullabaloo.
Old Casey the piper was near being strangled,
They squeezed up his pipes, his bellows, and all;
The girls in their ribbons they all got entangled,
And that put an end to Lanigan’s ball.
Anonymous.
THE WIDOW’S LAMENT.
Ochone, acushla mavourneen! ah, why thus did ye die?
(I won’t keep ye waitin’ a minit: just wait till I wipe my eye);
And is it gone ye are, darlint,—the kindest, the fondest, the best?
(Don’t forget the half-crown for the clerk—ye’ll find it below in the chest).
And to leave me alone in the world—O whirra, ochone, ochone!
(Is that Misther Moore in the car?—I thought I was goin’ alone);
Why am I alive this minit? why don’t I die on the floore?
(I’ll take your hand up the step, an’ thank ye, Misther Moore!)
An’ are ye gone at last from your weepin’, desolate wife?
(Not a dhrop, Misther Moore, I thank ye—well, the laste little dhrop in life!)
’Twas ye had the generous heart, an’ ’twas ye had the noble mind,
(Good mornin’, Mrs. O’Flanagan! Is Tim in the car behind?)
Oh, that I lived till this minit, such bitther sorrow to taste,
(I’m not goin’ to fall, Misther Moore! take your arm from around my waist).
’Twas the like of you there wasn’t in Ballaghaslatthery town,
(There’s Mary Mullaly, the hussy, an’ she wearin’ her laylock gown!)
I’ll throw meself into the river; I’ll never come back no more;
(’Twon’t be takin’ ye out of the way to lave me at home, Misther Moore?)
It’s me should have gone that could bear it, now that I’m young and sthrong,
(He was sixty-nine come Christmas: I wondhered he lasted so long!)
Oh, what’s the world at all when him that I love isn’t in it?
(If ’twas any one else but yourself, I’d lave the car this minit!)
There’s nothin’ but sorrow foreninst me, wheresoever I roam,
(Musha, why d’ye talk like that—can’t ye wait till we’re goin’ home?)
Anonymous.
WHISKY AND WATHER.
It’s all mighty fine what Taytotallers say,
“That ye’re not to go dhrinking of sperits,
But to keep to pump wather, and gruel, and tay”—
Faith, ye’d soon have a face like a ferret’s.
I don’t care one sthraw what such swaddlers may think,
(Ye’ll find them in every quarther),
The wholesomest liquor in life you can dhrink,
I’ll be bail, now, is Whisky and Wather.
Don’t go dhrinking of Brandy, or Hollands, or Shrub,
Or Gin—thim’s all docthored, dipind an it—
Or ye’ll soon have a nose that ye niver can rub,
For the blossoms ye’ll grow at the ind iv it;
But the “raal potheen” it’s a babby may take
Before its long clothes are cut shorther;
In as much as would swim ye there’s divil an ache,
Av it’s not mixed with too much could wather.
Do ye like thim small dhrinks? Dhrink away by all manes—
I wonst thried Ginger Beer to my sorrow—
Ye’ll be tuck jist as I was, wid all sorts of pains,
And ye’ll see what ye’re like on the morrow.
Ye’ll find ye can’t ate—no, nor walk—for the wind;
Ye’ll have cheeks jist the colour of morthar;
Av ye call in the docthor he’ll jist recommind
A hot tumbler of Whisky and Wather.
Av the colic you get, or the cramp in your legs,
Don’t go scalding yerself wid hot bottles:
(Tho’ thim’s betther, they tell me, than hot flannel bags),
And take no docthor’s stuff down your throttles;
But just tell the misthress to hate the tin pot—
(Maybe one for tay ye’ll have bought her)—
And keep dosing yerself off and an, hot and hot,
Till ye’re aisy—wid Whisky and Wather.
Av ye go to a fair, as it maybe ye might,
And ye meet with some thrilling disasther,
Such as having the head iv ye broken outright,
Av coorse ye’ll be wanting a plasther.
Don’t sind for a surgeon, thim’s niver no use—
Sure their thrade is to cut and to quarther—
They’d be dealing wid you, as you’d dale wid a goose:
Thry a poultice iv Whisky and Wather.
Av ye can’t sleep at night, an ye rowl in yer bed
(And that’s mighty disthressin’—no doubt iv it),
Till ye don’t know the front from the back iv yer head,
The best thing ye can do is—rowl out iv it.
Av ye’ve let out the fire, and can’t get a light,
Feel yer way to the crock, till ye’ve caught her
(In the dark it’s ye are, so remimber, hould tight),
Take a pull—an’ thin dhrink some could wather.
Av ye meet wid misfortune, beyant your controwl,
Av disease gets a hould iv the praties,
Or the slip iv a pig gets the masles, poor sowl;
No matther how sarious yer case is—
Don’t go walking about wid yer hands crossed behind,
And a face like a cow’s—only shorther,—
Sure the best way to keep up yer sperits, ye’ll find
Is to keep to hot Whisky and Wather.
It’s in more ways than thim ye’ll find whisky yer frind,
Sure it’s not only jist while ye dhrink it—
It has vartues on which ye can always depind—
And perhaps, too, when laste ye would think it.
One fine summer’s day, it was coorting I wint,
To make love to Dame Flanagan’s daughter—
And I won her—and got the old woman’s consint:
Sure I did it wid Whisky and Wather.
In the Liffey I tumbled, one could winther’s day,
And, bedad, it was coulder than plisint,
Out they fished me, and stretched me full length on the quay,
But the divil a docthor was prisint,
When a blessed ould woman of eighty came by
(There’s no doubt expariance had taught her),
And—in jist a pig’s whisper—I tell ye no lie—
Fetched me to, wid hot Whisky and Wather.
It’s the loveliest liquor ye iver can take,
And no matther how often ye take it;
The great thing is never to mix it too wake:
And see now—it’s this way ye make it:
Take three lumps of sugar—it’s jist how ye feel—
About whisky, not less than one quarther;
No limon—the laste taste in life of the peel,
And be sure you put screeching hot wather.
It’ll make ye, all over, as warm as a toast,
And yer heart jist as light as a feather;
Sure it’s mate, dhrink, and washing, and lodging almost,
And the great-coat itself, in could weather.
Oh! long life to the man that invinted potheen—
Sure the Pope ought to make him a marthyr—
If myself was this moment Victoria, our queen,
I’d dhrink nothing but Whisky and Wather!
Anonymous.