Читать книгу Bricks and Flowers - Katherine Everett - Страница 5

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Two brothers, members of the Pembroke family, whose ancestors had been involved in the Wars of the Roses, fighting on the Yorkist side, came to Ireland in 1656 and were given land around and far beyond the shores of the Lakes of Killarney. These brothers were our ancestors, one Herbert having the great estate of Muckross, and the other the smaller property of Curren and Cahirnane, the latter being my home. Our own rent-roll was not large, and from the time of my birth in 1872 was declining, but my father, like most Irish landlords, was determined to maintain appearances, and to do so we kept carriages and horses, boats and boatmen, gardeners, gamekeepers, farm labourers and a great many servants. No money was spent on amusements: books were not bought, holidays were not taken, and our clothes were made at home of harsh Kerry frieze, woven of the wool shorn off our own sheep into a material which we hated, for it tickled, and looked like dirty porridge.

We thought our family important, and this idea was based partly on what we had to write out and learn of the section in “Landed Gentry” devoted to our family, which began, “The name of Herbert (her Bert, illustrious Lord) stands so prominent in the records of British history and has been ennobled at various times”. We thought that our name, meaning illustrious Lord, was a wonderful idea, and this was justified by the many stories we were told of the grandeur of Muckross in the day of our great-uncle, Henry Arthur Herbert, who had married a Miss Balfour and had also imported from Scotland as well as his bride all the heads of departments of his household and estate. He built a large house in the Scottish baronial style and a church in the village; was Member of Parliament and Lord Lieutenant for County Kerry and Chief Secretary for Ireland in 1857.

In 1861 Queen Victoria stayed at Muckross House, and I have a long letter written by Henry Arthur’s daughter Ella to her aunt, Jane Bantry, her father’s sister, describing the visit and saying what a wonderful success it all was. She gives an hour-to-hour account of their doings, and describes a drive, the royal family being in a carriage with four horses and outriders and a mounted bodyguard, other carriages following and, last of all, a rabble, some on side-cars, some on foot, but all shrieking and cheering. On another day they went on the lake, and Ella notes how splendid the barge looked when the eight rowers held their oars straight up in the air as the Queen stepped in, adding that they were the finest men in the countryside and wore white duck trousers and dark blue jerseys, while the wivern—the family crest—flashed in gold on their oars and looked so well embroidered in scarlet on their sleeves. The barge went off first, and was followed by a number of fine boats, but Ella regrets that a lot of rough people came too, in anything that could float, and made a great noise.

The event—a water hunt—planned for that day was a failure. All the previous night men, boys, and dogs had been on the Eagle’s Nest mountain watching a magnificent stag which, when the barge was sighted, they were to drive to the shore of the lake and force to take to the water. The boats were to follow to whichever island he landed on, and there the poor creature would be killed and the horns presented to the Queen. The stag, however, did not play his intended part, for he dashed past his guards and streaked off to the Macgillicuddy Reeks, a wild range of mountains some fifteen miles away, and was not seen again.

“We waited for such a long time,” Ella writes, “and were so disappointed, but the Queen admired the view.”

Not a word is said about the personality of any of the guests, nor is any hint given of their reaction to the Irish welcome they had received: that the Queen admired the view is stated over and over again, but no other remark is quoted.

Reading about this visit while suffering from present-day difficulties, it seems to have been a remarkable effort for a private family to have made, for in those days the help of a catering firm was probably not called in. For the royal parents and their four children the billiard-room was made into a dining-room, so that they could have their meals alone at their pleasure; and there was a Lady Churchill, a Miss Wortley, and a General Grey in attendance, who, together with a governess and a tutor, were served in another room, while the housekeeper gave up her domain to an unspecified number of maids and valets. Ella adds, “Of course the Guard of Honour were given refreshments every day downstairs”. She had previously noted that this Guard consisted of about a hundred splendidly mounted men, but nothing is said of their own staff who coped with it all. She ends her letter by saying how delighted she is with the Queen’s parting gift to her, which she describes as “a very large round gold brooch with a branch of holly on it, the berries being made of coral and the leaves of a bright green enamel”.

Some twenty years later Muckross House was closed and trustees were appointed to take charge of the estate and to attempt to pay off the debts, but their efforts failed. All sorts of theories were held to explain such a complete financial collapse from real wealth in so short a time, some people saying it was all owing to borrowing money from money-lenders, and others that there had always been too much reckless spending; a kinder view was that it was due to the great reduction in rents. My father believed that the crowning disaster was the last owner’s idea that he could make money and thus save the place, his first scheme being to turn the many birch-trees that grew on his mountains into cotton reels, with which the world could be supplied. He was advised to start in a small way, but he would have nothing to do with what he called a “hole-and-corner business”, and meant to do it in a big way. He went to America, where he bought materials for a private railway, a steamer, and also a good deal of machinery, borrowing money to pay for it all; but everything went wrong: the mountain was too steep for the railway, the lake too deep and the river too shallow for the transport he had planned. No reels were made, and his gear was taken by creditors and sold for scrap.

Unfortunately, he still thought in millions, and decided that there was copper on his property, which he would start mining. A great deal of money was borrowed for this venture, but nothing came of it except a sheet of blue-green water where the limestone rock had been cut away, and which became known as “the Copper Folly”.

My father kept Cahirnane going for many years after Muckross had foundered, but of the thousands of acres once owned by the Herberts in County Kerry, not a single one is held in their name to-day.