Realities of Irish Life ... With illustrations by ... J. T. Trench

Front matter

IRISH LIFE LONDON : PRINTED BY STOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET The crisis ..„.-..,. I Inn ii.,.. ,i /„.....< ,,,,,,* n , i i.u i silence, 1 iitood naked and ban headed iifon ilit'in ,i /(Vn, ,, hi slum and the) at,mi llin hesUcuttU REALITIES OF IRISH LIFE. BY W. STEUART TRENCH, LAND AGENT IN IRELAND TO MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE, MARQUIS OF BATH, AND LORD DIGBY. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HIS SON J. TOWNSEND TRENCH. LONDON : LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 1868.

Preface

. Cardtown, Mountrath, Ireland: August, 1868. Dear Lord Dunraven, The following sketches of the ' Realities of Irish Life ' have been penned by me from time to time within the last few years. The idea of placing them on record was first suggested by your Lordship and your accomplished cousin Miss Gallwey. During the many pleasant hours we have passed together in boating and other excursions on the beautiful bay, and amongst the mountains and valleys of Kenmare, Ireland in her various phases was often discussed between us. Those incidents which have occurred to me during a somewhat eventful experience amongst her people on their native soil were not unfrequently the subject of conversation ; and your Lordship and your cousin often urged me to commit them to paper. I have done so in the VI

PREFACE.

. following pages, and I now venture to lay them before the public. My reasons for publishing them are mainly three fold :— First. My tales are of real life. Many of the incidents described therein have been told in various forms, often very incorrectly, in the newspapers and journals of the day. My desire has been to o-ive a clear and truthful account of occurrences which virulent party spirit or local prejudices have placed before the public, distorted through a false medium. I have endeavoured calmly and dispas sionately to relate the facts as I believe them to have occurred, and in most cases as I know them to have happened to myself in person. From this latter cause has arisen a more frequent use of the first person singular than I should otherwise have desired ; but under the circumstances, this could not be avoided.

My second reason for publishing these tales is to give the English public some idea of the difficulties which occasionally beset the path of an Irish land-

PREFACE.

. VII lord or agent who is desirous to improve the district in which he is interested. If he be willing to adopt the ' Laissez aller ' system, and let everything take its own course, he may have an easy life of it in Ire land ; but if he ventures to interfere with old habits, old prejudices, or old ways — however loud may be the call for improvement — he must be prepared to contend with difficulties which none but those who have experienced them could have imagined. Thirdly, I would wish to add my testimony to the fact that Ireland — notwithstanding the many difficulties which may beset the path of those who earnestly desire to improve her condition — is never theless not altogether unmanageable. They will doubtless meet with many disappointments, many acts of apparent, and some of real ingratitude ; but justice fully and firmly administered is always appreciated in the end.

I admit it will require much firmness and discretion to carry justice to its legitimate conclusions, torn as Ireland is by con tending parties ; but if this be truly done, I have never yet known it fail.* * I grant there may be, and are, individual exceptions to this rule, but they are very rare. — W. S. T.

PREFACE.

. I have purposely abstained from offering any opinion of my own on the various political and social grievances of which Ireland complains — real or imaginary. It is not that these questions have not attracted my earnest attention, and perhaps they may hereafter form the subject of another volume. But Englishmen frequently complain that they cannot obtain facts concerning Ireland. I have here endeavoured to supply some which have come under my own observation. Whether they are worthy of being recorded or not, the public must decide. It may perhaps be objected that some of my tales are abrupt, and have no obvious or necessary con nection ; and also that they are descriptive of varied scenes of a class and nature totally different from each other. I fear I must to some extent plead guilty to the charge.

Were I to supply the missing links, I should simply give a history of my life, and this could scarcely prove generally interesting. From youth to manhood, and from manhood to the verge of age, it has been my lot to live sur rounded by a kind of poetic turbulence and almost

PREFACE.

. IX romantic violence, which I believe could scarcely belong to real life in any other country in the world. I could describe numerous other scenes in which from time to time I have been an actor or spectator, more interesting perhaps to some than those I have selected in this volume ; but they would not be so essentially characteristic of Ireland, or of the life which they who attempt to grapple with Irish difficulties are sometimes compelled to lead. I need hardly say that the several noble pro prietors whom I now serve, have kindly given me leave to publish those portions of my sketches which refer to their several estates. Believe me sincerely yours, W. STEUART TRENCH. The Earl of Dunraven. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. SCHOOL ...... I II. THE BARRING OUT . . . . -19 III. EARLY LIFE . . . . . -37 IV.

THE RIBBON CODE . . . . -47 V. FARNEY. 1843 . . . . -63 VI. BATTLE OF MAGHERACLOON . . . -79 VII. THE POTATO-ROT . . . • . -97 VIII. THE EXODUS. KENMARE . . . .Ill IX. MARY SHEA . . ' . . . 135 X. THE SEAL HUNT . . . . . 1 53 XI. JOE MCKEY . . . . . -171 XII. THE CONSPIRACY . . . . .185 XIII. THE MURDER ..... 201 XIV. ALICE McMAHON . . . . • 217 XV. THE ARREST . . . . .231 CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XVI. THE CONFESSION . . . • • 25I XVII. THE PRISONER ..... 267 XVIII. THE EXECUTION . . • ■ 277 XIX. PATSY McDERMOT ..... 29I XX. GEASHILL MANOR . . • • • 311 XXI. THE REVIVAL ..... 333 XXII. FARNEY. 1 865 — 1 868 .... 347 CONCLUSION ...... 361

Appendix

. ' THE SHAN VAN VOCHT ' . . . . . 363 VISIT OF THE MARQUIS OF BATH TO HIS FARNEY ESTATE, IRELAND ...... 364 LETTERS CONCERNING THE FAMINE IN SCHULL BY REV. F. F. TRENCH ...... LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PLATE IX. THE CRISIS ..... frontispiece i. bagging an usher . . to face page 17 II. SHOOTING NED GRIMES . . . ,,27 III. THE RIBBON SCARF . . „ 47 IV. THE TENANT . . . „ 57 V. THE INFORMER . . . . ,, 60 VI. THE YOUNG MURDERER . . . „ 6l VII. THE MESSAGE . . . • ,, 72 VIII. THE CAPTURE . . . • ,, 73 X. THE SPEECH . . . ,, 77 XI. THE BATTLE . . . . „ 87 XII. TRIAL BY BLOOD . . . „ 89 \ XIII. THE SPANISH BEAUTY . . . „ 137 XIV. DERRYNANE CAVE . . . . „ 161 XV. THE GUIDE . . . . ,,162 XVI. THE OLD CAPTAIN . . . .,,163 XVII. THE SWIMMERS . . . .,,164 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PLATE PAGE XVIII. THE ATTACK . . . iO face l68 XIX.

THE CORMORANT . . . .,,165 XX. THE COTTAGE . . . „ T74 XXI. THE KITCHEN . . . .,,177 XXII. THE DEFIANCE . . . . „ 1 80 XXIII. THE SURRENDER . . . .. „ l8l XXIV. THE PLEDGE . . . .,,182 XXV. THE BROKEN HEART . . ,, 183 XXVI. THE TRIAL BY JURY . . . „ I90 XXVII. CARRICKMACROSS, 1851 . . „ 213 XXVIII. THE ESCAPE . . . ,, 21 5 XXIX. THE SECRET . . . „ 238 XXX. THE ROCKY PASS . . . „ 245 , s To be placed, neatly folded, im- XXXI. THE MAP OF. IRELAND < r ' J J ' L mediately before the Appendix. REALITIES OF IRISH LIFE

Chapter I. School

I think it was about the year 1821, that I was sent — then a very little boy — along with my elder brother, to the College, as it was called, of Armagh. It was then in high repute as a leading Irish school. The master was a most learned Doctor of Divinity. He had been a Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, was admitted by all to be a first-class scholar, and was a most amiable and estimable gentleman. His wife was worthy of her husband — kind, affectionate, and sensible ; and they had a large and clever family of sons and daughters. The college itself was a cold and dreary-looking place enough — bare stone walls being almost the only object which met the view within its precincts. It is still standing. It is one of the endowed schools of Ireland, to enquire into the condition of which an important commission, with the Marquis of Kildare at its head, was issued a few years ago.

An able report, and several large blue books of evidence, appear B as yet to have been the only result which has come before the public. It is not many years since I visited this scene of my early youth ; and it then appeared to be in almost exactly the same condition as it was when I first saw it, some forty-five years ago. The College of Armagh in the year 1821, and during the whole six years of my residence therein, was one of those old-fashioned Irish schools into which reform had never penetrated. The former master had been an excel lent one ; he was a good scholar himself, and knew how to teach others — the latter qualification being quite distinct from the former. He was also a man of considerable ad ministrative ability. He understood the management of men (and boys are little men), and, partly by his scholar ship, partly by his powers of administration, he had raised the character of the school to a position of some celebrity. ' The Doctor,' as the new master was called, had been appointed on the death of his predecessor; and he succeeded to a thriving school with about one hundred boarders, and a considerable number of day-boys.

The old master had died, and the new master had begun to reign in his stead, before I first entered the school. All the old fashions had been retained ; and no alterations in the customs — or what the boys called ' the rights of the school ' — had been introduced. ' Fagging ' in its most extensive application was in full force ; and as I was a little boy, and put down into the lowest class, I was seized on as a fag by one of the boys in the head form. I was somewhat rudely treated at first ; and I commenced my studies at the college by learning how to clean my master's shoes — an art in which, I must admit, I had not been previously instructed. There were no railways in those days ; and it took twelve hours to travel by the stage coach from Dublin to IS2I.] SCHOOL. 3 Armagh, a distance now traversed in less than one third of the time. ' The Armagh Lark ' — such, I think, was the name of the coach — (and if early rising could give any title to the appellation it certainly deserved the name) started from Dublin every morning at six o'clock.

It was the middle of the month of January, but we were up very early on the morning of our departure; and re solving not to be outdone by ' The Lark,' we had secured seats on the outside of the coach by half-past five a.m. We started what the guard called ' a full coach ; ' and with the usual blowing of his horn — a dreary attempt at hilarity it seemed to me of a cold winter's morning — and a flourish and cracking of whips by the coachman, we cleared safely out of the streets of Dublin. 'The coach' breakfasted at Ashbourne. The road was bleak and treeless, and even at present it does not abound in shade ; but the novelty of sitting behind four fast-trotting horses kept my spirits up, and what with the fresh air and the exhilarating influence of galloping at full pace for the last mile before reaching Ashbourne — as if we were in a most tremendous hurry for breakfast, in which even the horses seemed to participate, — I got down in good heart from my perch behind the coachman, and rej'oiced to see a roaring fire and a smoking breakfast already laid out most invitingly before us.

I hesitated for a moment to sit down to anything so delightful ; but I was cheered and encou raged by a kind-hearted gentleman near me. He sweet ened my tea with plenty of sugar, poured half the contents of the cream-jug into my cup, and heaped my plate with an abundant helping of a hot beef-steak. I soon succeeded in eating such a breakfast as I doubt if I have ever eaten since. In twenty minutes we were all astir again. The guard blew his bugle loud and cheerily, and somehow it seemed B to me that he sounded it much better than he had done in the morning when leaving Dublin. No doubt he did, for he also had had his breakfast of a good beef-steak, with plenty of bread and butter ; and even the weather-seasoned guard himself was not insensible to these cheering in fluences.

We all scrambled up again to our seats ; con versation became general amongst the passengers, all of whom seemed wonderfully thawed by the breakfast ; the coachman began to crack his jokes as well as his whip ; and, the morning being fine, though cold and crisp, we were all merry enough as we trotted on towards Drog heda. ' Where are you going to-day, my little fellow ? ' said the kind-hearted gentleman who had put the sugar in my tea at breakfast, and who I now saw was seated next me on the outside of the coach. ' I am going to school at the College of Armagh, Sir,' replied I, laying stress on the word ' college,' as I was rather proud of the name. ' Have you ever been at school before, my little man ? ' ' Oh yes, Sir,' replied I ; ' I was at a preparatory school, where there were only little boys ; but now I am going to the College of Armagh, where there are a great many big boys.' ' Have you any sisters at home ? ' enquired my com panion. ' Yes, Sir — five.' 'Well, take my advice, my little man, and don't tell their names to the boys when you go to this same College of Armagh,' replied my companion. ' If you do, I think you will be sorry for it afterwards.' ' Thank you, Sir,' said I ; ' I am much obliged.

I'll try not. But then, if the boys ask me, I don't see how I can I82I.] SCHOOL. 5 help it ; besides, I don't think my sisters' names are at all bad ones.' ' Never you mind that,' returned the kind gentleman ; ' you will find, as soon as you arrive, some one or other of the boys will ask you to tell him your sisters' names, quite in a confidential manner, as if he knew them before and felt a deep interest in their welfare. But don't you tell him one of them. Say, " you know a trick worth two of that ; " put your fingers to your nose this way ' (spreading out his fingers longitudinally from his nose), 'or anything else you like, to put him off; but mind you don't tell him your sisters' names, or you will be sorry for it many a day after.' ' Thank you, Sir, I'll try not,' I replied. I was sorely puzzled, however, to know why I was not to tell my sisters' names, but I resolved nevertheless to act on the kind gentle man's advice.

He got down at Dundalk, and I never to my knowledge saw him afterwards ; but the strange nature of the only piece of advice he gave me, as I was just about to enter on my career in the far-famed College of Armagh, has remained strongly impressed on my mind ever since. We changed horses at Drogheda, in the narrow streets of which we very nearly ran over a little boy, and upon our arrival at Castle Bellingham, some bread and cheese appeared upon the table in the little inn, accompanied by a long glass of foaming ale from the renowned brewery of the town. I did not feel hungry at the time, and the glass of ale looked far too good for a little boy like me ; so I was about to decline taking it, when the coachman, who I suspect had been privately ' tipped ' to look after me, kindly insisted on my eating a morsel of bread and cheese, and swallowing off the whole glass of ale.

I must confess it was sound advice, and I felt much the better when I had done so. [CHAP. I. REALITIES OF IRISH LIFE. From Castle Bellingham we trotted on to Dundalk, after leaving which the evening began to close in, and the air grew cold and frosty ; and by the time Newtown Ha milton was reached — a dreary and desolate town, situated among the Fews mountains — I was cold, tired, and ex hausted. We had changed our coachman at Dundalk, and the new driver knew not the poor little Joseph who sat behind him. And as we passed on stage after stage, the horses tired, the coachman cross and weary with flogging them up the steep hills by which the Fews mountains were then traversed, I have seldom felt more utterly desolate and down-hearted. But the longest day must have an end ; and at length we arrived at Armagh.

I was stiff, hungry, cold, and tired ; and, though I was an active little boy enough, I was wholly unable to get down off the coach by myself. The guard kindly lifted me down, and handed us over to the porter, who had come to meet us from the college. Ned Grimes was the college porter. I remember him well to this day. He was a short, thick-set, strong little fellow, as hard as a nail, strong as an ox, and untiring as a steam engine. He was up to any amount of work which could be put upon him. He could clean sixty or seventy pairs of shoes of a night with as much ease as I could clean my master's boots, though he did not produce the same polish upon their surface ; and he would have all ready for the little boys — who had no fag but him — on a Sunday or holiday morning. It would be hard to recapitulate the multifarious duties of Ned Grimes, but he performed them all cheerfully and well ; and when struck by the boys, as he often was in somewhat rude fun, he would return blow for blow with a good-humoured severity that made his tor mentors think twice before commencing an attack upon him again. .821.]

SCHOOL. 7 ' Welcome to the college, young masters,' said Ned, addressing myself and brother in a loud cheery voice. But we were too cold and too tired to answer him in the same strain. And when he took our trunks upon his brawny shoulders, and trudged off lustily towards the college — talking all the way in a familiar manner peculiar to himself, but by no means offensive, of the jolly life we were now about to enter on — I could hold out no longer, and burst out crying. ' Ah, my poor little fellow,' said Ned kindly, ' I fear you are not hardened to these things yet ; and maybe you have left a kind mother behind you, and are fretting after her ; my own little chaps would do the same. But these wild lads at the college would only laugh at you if they saw you crying. So come along, and I'll bring you into the Doctor's own room, where all the kind ladies are, and to-morrow you may join the school.' He led me accordingly into a warm and well-lighted room, where a large family, consisting chiefly of ladies, were collected round the tea-table ; and having respectfully stated that the new young gentleman was too tired and cold to go to the schoolroom that night, he left me to the care of the kind family of the Doctor.

I was given a cup of warm tea, and plenty of bread and butter ; and immediately after, I became so sleepy from my long journey and exposure to the open air, that I could hold up my head no longer ; so I was placed in bed — I knew not where or how — and slept, and dreamed of home. I breakfasted w*ith the Doctor and his family next morning ; and after breakfast, I was taken by my kind-hearted master into the schoolroom. He examined me in several books — not one of which I had ever seen or heard of — and, finding that I knew nothing about them, he placed me in the lowest form, to begin at the beginning of the school. My brother was placed in the fifth form, which in school life separated us necessarily a good deal from each other. No sooner was my first lesson over, and the usual half hour's play in the middle of the day commenced, than a boy, considerably bigger and older than myself, came up to me and civilly asked my name.

I told him at once. He then asked me to join him in the playground, to which of course I assented ; and we walked out together in a most confidential manner. ' Is it long since you left home ? ' enquired my new com panion : — home was rather a sore subject with me just then, and I felt my eyes fill with tears. He perceived this, and said in a consolatory voice, ' Don't cry, don't cry, you will be very happy here ; we are all so fond of new boys, and do all we can to please them.' ' Thank you,' returned I, ' but when one thinks of home, and all the kind people there, one can't help crying a little.' ' Of course, of course,' replied he, ' quite right and natural ; all the boys do the same on first coming to school. And so you left a great many people behind that you were fond of? — you have some brothers I suppose ?' ' O yes,' said I, ' I have three brothers; but it was not of them I was thinking.' ' Perhaps it was of your mother, or your sisters you were thinking ?' ' Indeed it was,' replied I, and my tears flowed afresh. 'And how many sisters have you ?' asked my kind and sympathizing friend. ' I have five,' I answered, ' and I love them very much.' ' Of course you do,' replied he ; ' and tell me now, are they handsome girls ?

But first tell me what are their names ? The name of the eldest is ?' 1821.] SCHOOL. 9 Just at this moment I recollected the advice of the gentleman who had put the sugar in my tea at the breakfast at Ashbourne. So, affecting a very knowing smile, and putting my spread-out fingers to my nose in the well-known form which implies a superiority of wit and knowledge in him who does it over all his fellow-creatures, I answered with a wink, ' I think I know a trick worth two of that ! ' The words were scarcely out of my mouth, or my hands down from my nose, when I received a tremendous kick behind, and a cuff on the side of the head which sent me spinning into the grass beside the walk. ' You infernal young scoundrel,' cried he in the utmost indignation, ' is it humbugging me you have been all this time?

I'll teach you to humbug your betters!' And thereupon he gave me a most tremendous thrashing, voci ferating all the time that ' he would teach me to humbug my betters.' I need hardly say that I was as devoid of any intention to humbug him as the child unborn ; and I fancied I was doing quite the right thing in carrying out the advice of my breakfast friend. It certainly cost me a severe beating ; but it was some comfort that my sisters' names remained unknown all the time I was at school, though to this day I could never understand the importance which was laid upon this secret in almost every school in Ireland — and, for aught I know, in England too, at that date. This rough treatment, so early commenced, soon initiated me into all the mysteries and ' rights ' of the College of Armagh. The strictness with which these ' rights ' were maintained and adhered to, by all parties, was one of the most remarkable features of the school.

It was true they consisted of an ancient and unwritten code ; but they were wonderfully well understood. Certain big boys in the school were considered as the expounders of these rights ; and when once a formal decision was given — after due reference to these parties — there was usually no appeal from their verdict. But the strange part of it was, that the masters and teachers were considered quite as much bound by the code of rights as we were ourselves ; and the Doctor submitted to these rights and acknowledged them with a willingness which even at that time surprised me. It was, no doubt, a rude, rough school, but it had stringent and wild codes of honour of its own. There was a constant affectation of manhood amongst the boys — -carrying them so far that upon one occasion, the elder boys agreed to settle some quarrel which had arisen between them with the pistol, rather than the ordinary course of fighting it out with their fists.

I well remember the mysterious purchase of the pistols, the buying at different shops of the powder and ball, and the whispering and grave deliberations of the seconds on this momentous occasion. The intended duel was talked of and discussed amongst all the elder boys for at least a fortnight before it took place. Of course, it was kept a dead secret from the Doctor, and I doubt if he ever knew of it even to his dying day ; as one of the main points in our code of honour — and one rigidly adhered to — was, never, under any circumstances, to inform upon a schoolfellow, no matter what his crime might be. The duel at length came off with all the gravity of ex perienced performers. The spot chosen for the combat was an out-of-the-way corner of the playground, near some steps to a former landing, which bore the suggestive title of ' the marrow-bone door.' The principals were duly placed, the seconds retired the proper distance aside, and dropped a handkerchief as the signal for both parties to fire.

The combatants fired precisely together, and then the two boys — who had really no enmity between themselves, but fought 1821.] SCHOOL. 11 out of vanity to ape this supposed manly pastime of the day — stared in real terror at each other, lest either should have hurt his adversary. Fortunately, however, neither party fell, or showed any symptom of being wounded. So they each declared themselves ' perfectly satisfied,' and a cordial recon ciliation took place. It was considerably enhanced by one of the seconds finding a flattened bullet immediately behind the boy who had been placed against the marrow-bone steps ! It is remarkable how the introduction of one vicious boy into a school — conducted as this was upon somewhat repub lican principles — can change the whole current and tone of thought of boys not originally ill-disposed.

We were a wild lot, it is true ; but though we adhered rigidly to our rights, our code of honour was also strictly enforced. I had risen in a few years, by regular gradations, from the first to the fourth form, when, unfortunately, a new boy came to the school, who, had he been a Fenian or a Ribbonman, would have set the whole side of a country in a flame. He was an idle, bad, good-for-nothing boy ; and, having been severely flogged more than once for his lessons (flogging was the order of the day if a boy failed in his task at the College of Armagh), he conceived a real hatred for the Doctor, whom he looked upon, and endeavoured to set forth amongst us, as a tyrant and a persecutor, whose aim and object was to injure and ill-treat the boys. He so far succeeded in es tablishing these sentiments against the really kind-hearted Doctor, that a series of annoyances of the most vexatious and perplexing character was planned, and set on foot to annoy him.