Imagine your life in a luscious, green world
full of ancient stories, magic, and mystery. You have a unique language only to
your people, a diverse religion, and a divine unity with your neighbors. Then
you realize the wonderful sphere around you is torn asunder. Soon Penal Laws
prevent you from practicing your religion, speaking your language, and owning
your own land.
In the early 1800s (before the Great
Famine in the 1840s), Ireland was a place full of opportunity for only a
privileged few, and a large holder of oppression. English rulers dictated their
countrymen to move onto greener pastures, and gave them wide expanses of Irish
land to do with what they will. This was called land tenure. Land was a source
of income, a source of political power, and a great source of food, fuel,
space, and sport. These landowners, or land agents, took over their designated
properties, forcing the Irish people from their homes, sometimes paying them to
emigrate. Those who had nowhere to go were carted to workhouses or worked in
the quarries. Workhouses or they were called ‘Houses of Industry’ before 1838,
were disease-infested, prison-like places of work where people without means to
provide for themselves lived. Here, men broke stones and women knitted for low
wages. It was definitely not a great way spend a life.
Those who managed to keep their land
were subject to very high taxes (and rents) based solely on their holdings. The
amount of that tax, or ‘tithe’, funded the Church of Ireland, the county
government, workhouses, dispensaries (medical facilities), Trinity College, and
endowed schools. Many threats of eviction were held over the people’s heads and
livestock were seized if rents were unpaid. Rents were usually collected twice
a year, generally in hotels. Anyone who became evicted and indebted to their
land agents was publicly humiliated. This is a reason why so many Irish chose
to become clergymen because they were excluded from this taxing.
Others who escaped workhouses became farmers.
Tenant farmers, paid taxes and lived on the land. They were sometimes referred
to as ‘managers’. Farm laborers were paid no more than eight pence a day and given
small plots of land with which to feed their families.
Family farms were the most popular
type, and they were twenty-five acres or more. Most Irish farms grew potatoes,
but cabbage, onions, wheat, barley, oats, and flax were also commonly grown as
well as raising livestock. A half-acre could feed a whole family for a year.
All other produce and livestock would be sold at market places in large cities
or shipped to the Americas and the British Isles.
Life on a farm is hard work done every
day. Learn more about farming equipment and techniques in my book To Love An Irishman.
ABOUT THE BOOK:
She is left with an
offer she cannot refuse...
Upon his death in 1823, English nobleman, Lord
Peyton leaves his daughter Lady Aveline with two choices—stay single and
inherit only a small farm in Ireland, where she might just be able to eke out a
living, or get married and live in luxury, inheriting all his wealth and property.
Fiercely independent, Aveline heads for Ireland only to run afoul of her
father’s farm manager, the devastatingly handsome Ciaran O’'Devlin. Alone in a
strange country, Aveline yearns for love and friendship, but Ciaran offers only
criticism and disdain. Confused and angered by strange visions and her growing
attraction to Ciaran, Aveline is determined to make the farm prosper—despite the
insufferable Irishman.
He has a secret he cannot
reveal...
Ciaran mistrusts Aveline’s intentions and
refuses to admit that a willful, English
woman now owns the farm that should have been his. Although he insists Aveline
should go back to England, he cannot deny their budding passion. Yet, he knows—even
if she doesn’t—that nothing will come of it. Not only can’t a poor Irishman
marry an English noblewoman, but when Aveline learns of his past, she’ll want
nothing more to do with him. Ciaran has always known that each decision carries
a consequence, but it’s only when he stands to lose Aveline that he realizes
what a heavy price his past decisions may have.
Aveline couldn’t tear her
eyes away. The man was gorgeous—and most unfriendly...
One of the men stood out from the
others. His clothing was obviously expensive, despite its poor condition.
Aveline stood quietly and observed him through the crack of the door, wondering
who he was.
He discarded his brown swallowtail coat
and threw it over the stall wall, leaving only a green cotton waistcoat and a
worn, white linen shirt covering his upper torso. The shirt hung open, exposing
the man’s broad chest, dusted with dark hair. The waistcoat, also unbuttoned,
trailed down toward brown corduroy trousers that fit snugly around his muscled
thighs. His clothes were unmarked by patches, though stains from dirt surrounded
both knees. He wore brown stockings with black leather brogues.
She wanted to stand in the doorway and
watch him sing for the rest of the day. His voice was wonderful and its warm
tone washed through her. But she knew the longer she remained the more likely
it was she’d be seen. As an eavesdropper, she had seen and learned more
information than her father would ever have allowed. That is why she loved
doing it.
The time grew late and she decided to
leave. She’d introduce herself when she wouldn’t be an interruption. Her
success on the farm revolved around their good opinion of her. Easing away, she
stumbled and grabbed a hold of the door, causing it to creak. Suddenly, the
Irishman looked directly at her. The grin she’d seen on his face just moments
before turned to a scowl.
She did not stick around to see what he
did next, but ran in the direction of the farmhouse. He caught her arm in three
quick strides, grabbed her wrist, and spoke to her in Gaelic as she turned
around, gasping for breath. His language was beautiful. She just wished she
understood what he was trying to say.
Excerpt from To Love An Irishman written by Diva Jefferson. Please feel free to
contact the author on her website: www.divajefferson.com.
4 comments:
Hi Diva
Great insight into the Irish history. It's amazing how much beauty has come forward. They rose above their oppression instead of letting it define them. Half an acre to feed a family?? I need to check into that, bet I could get a lot out of a small patch if I planned it out.
THANKS
Mona, you are so right. They are definitely a wonderful culture. And yes, half an acre. Of course, back then families were much bigger. So I'm sure you could make a fine go of it. Good luck!
Take care,
Diva J.
Very interesting history indeed. It's really sad the sins that were perpetuated against people in the past. And I love the excerpt. There's something about someone speaking another language that just gets to me :-). Congrats on your release and happy sales
I would love to know where you found references to knitting in the workhouse?
Your book looks like a great read!
Thanks :)
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