Читать книгу The Highland Lady In Ireland - Elizabeth Grant - Страница 4

The Highland lady, Elizabeth Grant, was born in Edinburgh on 7 May 1797 in her father’s newly-built town mansion at 5 Charlotte Square. She was the eldest of the five children of the 7th Laird of Rothiemurchus, later Sir John Peter Grant, a landed lawyer and Whig Member of Parliament whose political ambitions and financial chicanery were to bring his family close to ruin. The offer of a judgeship in India in 1829 provided a chance to recover his fortunes however, and once his more pressing creditors had been evaded, the family set out for Bombay.

This is the story that was so engagingly told in Memoirs of a Highland Lady, the classic which earned Elizabeth Grant the title by which she is so well-known as one of the most fascinating and important Scottish nineteenth-century diarists. She wrote of her childhood in Rothiemurchus with spells in Oxford and London, and of Edinburgh when its reputation was at its height as a city of the Enlightenment. Her early womanhood coincided with the decline in the Grant family situation, so a comfortable existence in the capital had to be exchanged for a penurious life back at the Doune, the family house in the north near Aviemore. Here it was that three talented sisters, Elizabeth, Jane and Mary Grant, wrote the stories and articles that provided their principal source of income until they were rescued by their father’s prospects in India. The Memoirs ended with Elizabeth’s two years in India and her marriage to Colonel Henry Smith of Baltiboys, an Officer in the 5th Bombay Cavalry.

Ten days before the wedding in June 1829, news arrived that Henry’s elder brother John, a spendthrift bachelor formerly an officer in the 4th Dragoon Guards, had died in Paris, as a result of which Henry inherited the 1,200 acre estate of Baltiboys some twenty miles south of Dublin in Co. Wicklow, Ill-health (Colonel Smith suffered from frequent bouts of asthma), demanded an early retirement, and so with Janey, their first-born, the Smiths arrived in Ireland in the summer of 1830 for a new chapter in the life of the Highland lady.

The Memoirs were specifically written for Elizabeth’s children (Annie was born in 1832 and Jack in 1838) over an eight year period, 1846 to 1854. But Mrs Smith had begun a Journal much earlier, on New Year’s Day 1840, and with various gaps in later years she kept it going until 1885, the year she died. Her entries to this Journal are particularly complete and informative during the 1840s and these are the years that have been edited to produce the present volume.

It is not the first time a selection has been published. The distinguished writer David Thomson co-operated with the Highland lady’s great-grand-daughter Moyra McGusty to produce The Irish Journals of Elizabeth Smith, 1840–1850 (O.U.P., 1980), but although her true voice emerged from the dramatic later years of the decade, there was a certain misbalance in the book because only thirty per cent of the text had been taken from the first six years. There seemed, therefore, to be a place for a more representative selection from the Irish Journals to set alongside the Canongate Classics edition of the Highland lady’s Memoirs. The present edition deliberately omits a two year period from 1843 to 1845 when the whole family moved to France, first to Pau and then to Avranches: this seemed to be a self-contained period that might well stand on its own as a separate publication rather than confusing the essential two parts of the Journals – one of which portrays the family’s life on a fast-improving estate in a well-described neighbourhood, while the other shows their response to the terrible challenges of the Famine years.

These are, however, only two of many themes that emerge from this fascinating kaleidoscope of a diary. The Highland lady gave several reasons why she kept it so assiduously: it was ‘a safety valve … for my own great griefs’, a ‘chronicle of my times’ and ‘it educated myself in the way of my duties’. But above all (as she wrote on 25 February 1845) this ‘indulgence’ had the didactic purpose of ‘recalling the memory of their mother to my dear children when they will be old enough to understand the moral of my comments upon life.’ Later (in July 1856) she did allow herself the observation that

well weeded, corrected and names with-held, it might bring [Jack] a good penny should the present love of family disclosures remain with the idle publick.

She was nothing if not a practical woman.

There is one problem, however, about treating the Memoirs and the Journal as a continuous series of autobiographical writings. Elizabeth Smith was well aware that one ended in 1830 and the other started in 1840. This gap is covered in a long and interesting letter to Annie in 1878, helped by a travelling diary kept by her sister Jane Pennington in 1831.

In the first place Baltiboys House, which had been badly damaged in the 1798 rebellion, had to be rebuilt. Jane’s diary calls it

A mere ruin now … in a very curious state of abandonment. The house, I believe, was dismantled for the sake of selling the materials when the old proprietor determined to live abroad; but a great proportion of the walls are left standing and cover a very considerable area; and with offices and all, there are more than twice the quantity of stones that it would take to build a convenient mansion.

It was not until 1837 that the family could move into this mansion and when the Journal opens work is still being done. Another great-grand-daughter, who was born at Baltiboys, Ninette de Valois, described it in her autobiography* as ‘a long two-storied building with a spacious net-work of basement rooms. It was a typically Irish country house of about 1820–30, late Georgian in part, consisting of one main wing and two smaller ones.’ Today, carefully restored, it impresses as an elegant Regency house, tastefully situated by the Blessington Lake created by the confluence of the Liffey and King’s rivers.

Annie’s 1878 letter described how her mother’s sister and brother-in-law, Colonel Pennington, came on their travels to see ‘what kind of a place Baltiboys, this neglected property, was like; understandably, it did not make any kind of a favourable impression …’

how could it – ruins – nettles – broken gate – road overgrown with weeds. And when I first saw it, there stood to welcome me a crowd of, as I thought beggars – dirty queer-looking men doffing their remnants of hats with much civility. ‘Thim’s the tenants’ said the only man amongst them with a whole coat. See them now – see the place now – see the farms now! It has taken near fifty years to effect the transformation – fifty years of untiring energy and patience under many disappointments – but the reform is accomplished and is worth all it cost.

The Highland lady saw the 1830s as laying the foundations of all that was to be achieved in the years ahead, as she and the Colonel, with the help of the Agent John Robinson and the Steward Tom Darker, moved towards a more efficient system of managing the estate, based on consolidating farms and direct letting to tenants who lived and worked on their holdings.

Your father’s work and mine lay at home. We had work enough. We determined to get rid of all the little tenants and to encrease the larger farms – and we did it – but not at once – just watched for opportunities and managed this delicate business without annoying any one – or even causing a murmur. The departing were always furnished with the means of setting up in suitable employments, and were fully paid for any value left. We first repaired the thatch of all cabins – then put in windows – then built chimney stacks – not all at once either – little by little as people deserved help. Then your father built his house. The employment thus given completely set his tenants up – the pride they took in the place they had helped to make inspired them with a desire to improve their own dwellings, which was gratified by degrees as we could afford it. A better system of fanning followed. The first field of turnips ever sown in these parts was what is now our front lawn. Then came the draining. The schools were set agoing. I remember that there was a great deal of trouble in the setting up the School – a sign of progress much wanted – none of the men and few of the women could read – none of the women could sew – method equally unknown in the home. Poor creatures they had been neglected for more than a generation.

And all these themes are regularly commented upon in the Journals, as Baltiboys played its part in the steady improvement of the neighbourhood around the market town of Blessington in those pre-Famine years.

This is a neighbourhood, moreover, that comes alive through Elizabeth Smith’s descriptions of all classes of society. We meet the stately Marquis of Downshire, one of the greatest landowners in Ireland, whose well-run estates contrast so much with the feckless mismanagement of that broken-down gambler, the Earl of Milltown; the gossiping Dr George Robinson, brother to the Agent, whose life is inter-twined with that of the Smith family right down to Annie’s marriage in 1850 with which this volume concludes. (He took her marriage rather badly.) At a humbler level, each and every person living and working at Baltiboys, (whose situation and prospects were analysed in the Catalogue Raisonée the indefatiguable landlord’s wife produced at the beginning of that terrible year 1847), can be followed through these pages. There is a wealth of characters to illuminate the detailed recreation of family and estate life at Baltiboys, the range of agricultural change and improvement, and the life led by all groups of society around them. And as David Thomson wrote in his Introduction, all this is achieved by the direct and forceful writing of a character with powerful opinions and an intelligent mind.

My delight is in the vigour of her mind; her wit, the immediacy of her narrative and descriptive style which forwards her life and times to us in a mixture of asperity and warmth of heart, her ventures into practical experiment in education and farming methods.

But, in addition to adding to the Highland lady’s reputation as an extremely distinguished diarist, these writings from the 1840s have an importance over and above the literary. They are a significant addition to a revised picture of some parts of Irish landlordism, which shows how some landed proprietors, while undoubtedly conscious of their rights, still tried conscientiously to carry out their duties. This contrasts with the report of the Devon Commission, for example, which was established in 1843 to inquire into Irish land tenure, which stressed that the evils of the system were wellnigh universal.*

It was three months after the Smiths returned from their retrenching exercise in France that the ravages of phytophthora infestans, the potato blight, appeared in the Baltiboys area. The Journals provide a day-to-day account of how this well-endowed and comparatively prosperous eastern part of Ireland coped with the challenges of the disaster, and how it reacted to the despairing and sometimes belated efforts of the governments of Sir Robert Peel and Lord John Russell to introduce measures that would relieve the tragic consequences of failure in the potato crops.

This edition of the Irish diaries kept by the Highland lady during the 1840s is a little more than 200,000 words long, perhaps a quarter of all she wrote. Customary editorial practices, and hopefully common sense, were adhered to so that Elizabeth Smith’s individual voice emerges here as clearly and as forcefully as Elizabeth Grant’s does from the Memoirs. Sometimes the same story is told in both (after all, for example, she read Lockhart’s biography of his father-in-law, Sir Walter Scott, in 1840 and commented upon it in her Journal long before she mentioned it again in the Memoirs). But the best observations are always good enough to bear a second reading. She wrote in one continuous flow, so modern notions of paragraphing have been introduced, but her spelling has been retained (‘philippick’, ‘atchieved’, ‘burthen’, ‘plaister’, ‘steeple chacing’) except in the case of some placenames (‘Drumewachta’ has a certain charm but it may not be recognised as Drumochter). She consistently wrote ‘Blesington’ and the ‘Milltowns’.

Elizabeth Grant arrived as Elizabeth Smith to her new responsibilities at Baltiboys with a wealth of Scottish experience behind her, and the two extended spells she spent in Scotland in the summers of 1842 (when she wrote her eyewitness account of Queen Victoria’s visit) and 1846 (when she returned to her beloved Rothiemurchus) show how she treasured her roots. But she also became fiercely attached to her new loyalties and it is interesting that her sister’s 1831 diary should contain this perceptive comment:

I don’t know how it is, but whenever I have been parted from Eliza for more than a month, she has, at our first meeting again, appeared more altered than most people do in the course of years. I believe it is from her extraordinary propensity for falling into the ways, the habits, customs, manners and opinions even, of those she lives with; a faculty of extreme value to the possessor, as it is sure to endear her to everybody by whom she is surrounded, and fits her for every possible change of place or condition.

A little later she makes a final remark: ‘They have made an Irishwoman of you now, and may they know the value of the daughter they adopted into their Country’ – a fitting summation of the Highland lady and the fascination of her Irish Journals.

Finally, should something of the charm, irritation, intelligence and importance of this marvellous writer have succeeded in being conveyed to her readers, much of the credit must go to my co-editor Patricia Pelly, one of the Highland lady’s great-great-grand-daughters, whose family knowledge and committed interest have played an enormous part in preparing this version of her distinguished ancestor’s diaries for publication.

Andrew Tod

* Edited by her niece, Lady Strachey, they were first published in 1898 and a further revised version was produced by Angus Davidson. The complete text appeared for the first time in 1988, edited by Andrew Tod for the Canongate Classics.

* Ninette de Valois Come Dance With Me (London, 1957).

*For more on the historical background see the magisterial New History of Ireland, Volume V, Ireland under the Union I, 1801–1870, hereafter NH of I edited by W. E. Vaughan (O.U.P., 1989).