The Landlord - 1847

 

The Landlord

Unfortunately, the newly revolutionised Edward Griffin had to face an uncomfortable fact – he quite liked his landlord. Not that the two men had anything in common. Edward Rae was a member of one of the most famous families in all of Ireland – the Langford Raes – and Edward would always doff his cap if he saw him pass. The Langford Raes owned Keel House, next to the old Kilgarrylander parish church, and occasionally Edward could hear from a distance the sound of merry goings on as Edward (or Giles Rae before him) lavished hospitality on his guests. Once there were so many that locals were scrubbed up to work as servants. Edward saw for once how the other half lived.

Keel House 1998

“Did ye see that, Catherine? Did ye see what they had? First we served out fish, beef steaks, soup, rabbits and onions, and fillet veal. And that was just the first course! Then they had turkey pot-salmon  grilde, pickled salmon, and cheese cakes. Then for dessert they had raspberries and cream, sweetmeats and jelly, strawberries and cream, almond cream, currants and gooseberries, and orange butter. I tell ye Catherine, one day we will live like that.”

Catherine had a wise head on very young shoulders and knew that was very unlikely. “Yes, my love,” she sighed. In her heart all she wanted was a place where their children – if that happy day should ever come – could grow up in safety, without hunger. She was beginning to realise that that was unlikely to be in Ireland.

One morning Edward Rae appeared at their house. He had a tall grey-haired gentleman with him.

“Tomorrow at 10 am there is a special meeting at Keel House, and you must be there, Edward.”

“Yes, Sir, if ye say so, Mr Rae,” Edward replied. He wanted to ask what the meeting was about but didn’t feel it was his place to ask. The two men disappeared as quickly as they had come.

The following morning as he approached Keel House down the muddy lane he could see he would not be alone. It looked like all the cottiers from the surrounding townlands had assembled.

A line formed.

“What’s up?” Edward inquired of Tommy O’Sullivan, standing ahead of him.

“Not sure, but I’m thinkin’ it’s the government wantin’ to know ya business,” Tommy whispered back as they shuffled forward.

Sitting at the desk up front was the grey-haired gentleman who accompanied Mr Rae the day before. He seemed very military and businesslike in his manner, like someone who didn’t have a lot of time. A clerk by his side jotted down information as it came in.

Richard Griffith - www.researchgate.net

“Name?”

“Edward Griffin, Sir”.

“Townland?”

“Corkaboy, Sir”.

“Residence?”

“A house, Sir.”

“Other residents?”

“Just my wife, Sir – Catherine.” Edward still felt a little proud when he referred to Catherine as his wife.

“Thank you. Next.”

Edward shuffled to the side and joined the others who had gathered outside to discuss what this was all about.

“It’s the bloody Government. Sure as eggs rent will go up,” Micky Molloy volunteered.

“No, it’s that Griffith boyo, him that’s measurin’ an’ countin’ everything in Ireland. What a job! He was in Killarney last week – now it’s our turn.”

“What in God’s name for?” Brian Slattery  was peeved. “We’ve got better things to do than stand around here all day. I’m off.”

 Two weeks later, Edward was tending his potato patch near the Dingle Road when Edward Rae appeared again, walking alone towards Castledrum.

“Morning, Edward.” He appeared in a cheerful and chatty mood. “How’s the crop comin’ on? They look good.”

Edward didn’t have time to reply before the landlord continued.

“Do you know how much land my family owns, Edward? More than 5000 acres, right here in Kerry. We Raes have been landholders in Kerry for hundreds of years – see Keel House over there, that’s been there since 1680.”

Edward dutifully looked over at the whitewashed three window residence through the trees. “That’s right, Sir,” he replied.

“And do you know what makes it work, Edward? It’s people like you, and Catherine – good-hearted folk who are reliable and trustworthy.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Edward doffed his cap again, although he wasn’t sure why.

“So, if you have any problems, be sure to let me know, Edward.”

“I will, Sir.”

Mr Rae continued his brisk, jaunty walk along the road and was soon lost behind the tall grasses which grew along the roadside.

Edward felt important. Mr Rae had stopped to talk to him – to him! Of course, Edward also knew Mr Rae would do nothing to help him improve his roof or build a proper fence to keep out the dogs, or a hundred other things, because that would mean rent would increase. But for a time he conversed with the hoi polloi.

Later, in another time and place, on the other side of the world, he had time to think about this contradiction in the Irish temperament – how despite being at the arse-end of society, dirt poor and with famine stalking, still the Irish poor were so docile towards the bloody English! Murderous towards each other – secret societies and all – but doff-your-cap subservient towards those who could actually DO something to change it all.  Fat chance of revolution ever happening here, Edward concluded.