An Gorta Mor IX Part IV

Emigration and Coffin Ships

Coffin ship 2The fact that the horrors of the ‘Coffin Ships’ were virtually restricted to vessels making for Quebec during 1847-48 provided little solace to the tens of thousands who perished after buying bargain tickets for as little as £2. Other than these vessels there were few ships wrecked, and shipboard mortality seldom exceeded one in fifty persons. The same statistic applied to the even more hazardous and expensive voyage to Australia, which typically took three or four months. But, because most Australian emigrants received state subsidies, the shipboard conditions were far more closely supervised by government inspectors and surgeons-superintendent. Due to the introduction of passenger legislation at this time overcrowding and cross-infection were eventually curtailed on the shorter American routes. It appears, from the mortality figures among the many passengers that sailed from Ireland, the passage to Australia and North America while scarcely a pleasure cruise, was not a death sentence.

 In Ireland the transition from panic-driven expulsion from the land to a calculated pursuit of economic betterment was already underway. As the Famine continued unabated, more and more emigrants sent reports home about their success in finding employment and marriage partners, which convinced others that emigration was a choice rather than a sufferance. Admittedly, emigrants faced formidable obstacles in securing a satisfactory livelihood in those new lands. The serious lack of capital, education and skills restricted many of the Irish settlers in Britain and America to undertaking poorly paid menial employment and living in insanitary housing.

 The number of emigrants from Ireland continued to increase and some ships’ officers described the appalling conditions these poor people had to endure – “… friendless emigrants stowed away like bales of cotton, and packed like slaves in a slave ship; confined in a place that, during storm time, must be closed against both light and air, who can do no cooking, nor warm so much as a cup of water … Passengers are cut off from the most indispensable conveniences of a civilised dwelling … We had not been at sea one week, when to hold your head down the fore-hatchway was like holding it down a suddenly opened cess pool.”

Despite all the reasons to cause them to fear undertaking such a journey into the unknown, there was nothing that could stop desperate people who were determined to go. They would have to face seasickness, insanitary accommodation, violent fellow passengers and often the hostility of the crew. There would be rotten food and foul water, and they would have to fight off the crooks and touts who tried to rob and cheat them both before and after the journey. Meanwhile, thousands of emigrants had arrived already in the New World, where their numbers and their poverty had caused problems. In response various Passenger Acts were drawn up and passed, which forbid any emigrant without sufficient funds or subsistence to land. But, along with all the difficulties that emigration brought to North America, no one expected the ‘ship fever’ of 1847. This is now what they called the typhus fever, which had now crossed the Atlantic as well.

Coffin ship 1In May 1847, the ice on the St. Lawrence river had melted and the first emigrant ship arrived at Grosse Ile, the quarantine station. All passengers on board the ship had come from Ireland, via Britain, and there were 84 cases of fever among them, nine of whom had died. The quarantine hospital ship at Gross Ile could only accommodate 200 people, but eight more ships arrived carrying 430 fever cases and, three days later, seventeen more ships landed. By 26th May there were thirty vessels waiting at Grosse Ile to be cleared, with approximately 10,000 emigrants on board. By 31st May this had risen to a fleet of forty ships, which stretched two miles down the river. Conditions on board these ships quickly became intolerable. In an effort to ease the problems tents were hastily erected ashore but patients were often left for days on the ships without any treatment. Most of the ships had not one healthy person on board, and those few who had managed to escape the fever were severely weakened by starvation. There were processions of boats that carried the sick and dead from the ships, abandoning them upon the beach to crawl to the hospital if they could. By the middle of the summer it was impossible to quarantine people in a proper manner. The sick passengers were left to stay on the ships for fifteen days or more, instead of spending ten days in the hospital. This meant that the sick and healthy were still cooped up together, allowing the fever to spread as before. By the end of July all quarantine efforts had been abandoned and the hordes of emigrants, sick and healthy, were just sent on inland. The result of this foolishness was that Quebec and Montreal later suffered widespread fever epidemics.

 The St. Lawrence River was the main artery through which the Irish emigrants flowed into the towns of Quebec, Montreal, Kingston, Toronto, the Ottawa Valley, and the rest of Canada. Others would use Canada only as a stop-over and would subsequently make their way into the United States. Grosse Ile is a small island on the St. Lawrence and was the place where the unhealthy emigrants were landed. It had already gained a horrific reputation even before the events of ‘Black ‘47.’ In 1832, for example, Coffin Ships that had been designed not as passenger vessels but as ships to carry timber from North America were filled with Irish people as fare paying ballast for the return journey. It was these ships that were instrumental in bringing cholera to Canada from Ireland and the flophouses of Liverpool. The fever victims that arrived in 1847 may have already been dead, or they may have been near death, but they were always able to spread the fever either through the conditions existing aboard the ‘coffin ships’, or on the overpacked island itself.  

The authorities in both Canada and America condemned the conditions in which the emigrants were sent across the Atlantic. They knew about the Famine in Ireland, and the land clearances by the landlords, whom they held in contempt. Lord Palmerston’s expressed views on emigration caused more widespread shuddering at the Cabinet table than did his contribution on land clearances, and he became the subject of every public international controversy. Adam Ferrie, a member of Canada’s Legislative Council wrote a strongly worded letter to the British Colonial Secretary, Earl Grey. In it he condemned the dumping on Canadian soil of half-naked paupers, the aged, the infirm, beggars, and vagrants “without regard to humanity or even common decency.” Ferrie also itemised the crimes that had been committed against the emigrants, among which were the promise of clothes, food, and money. They would, however, only receive these when they arrived in Quebec. But, the £5 that was promised was never paid to the emigrant, nor did they receive the clothes or food. They were simply put on a ship that was carrying twice the number of passengers for which it had been built, and in conditions that were described to be, “as bad as the Slave Trade.”

As explained, none of the promised food or clothing was forthcoming. Palmerston’s tenants had formed part of a sizeable flotilla of nine ships, which picked up these paupers in Sligo and Liverpool. Some of these ships carried only the aged, the decrepit, and the widows with young children. No one on board had the necessary skills that would be required to survive in a fledgling colony. On one ship, carrying 477 passengers, the overcrowding on board made the passage a hellish experience for them all. But, in addition to the overcrowding, fever had broken out and 107 passengers had to be buried at sea. On arrival at their destination almost half the survivors were described as virtually naked, and eighty-seven of them had to be clothed before they could be allowed ashore. Even the crew had fallen into such a bad condition that the ship had to be sailed from the mouth of the St. Lawrence by five of the passengers.

It wasn’t long before the American press in New York began to take notice and began to comment on the condition of the Irish emigrants landing on their shores – “It is lamentable to see the vast number of unfortunate creatures that are almost daily cast on our shores, penniless and without physical energy to earn a day’s living. Yesterday, groups of these hapless beings were to be seen congregated about the (City Hall) Park and in Broadway, looking the very picture of despair, misery, disease and want. On enquiry, we ascertained that they had arrived here by the ship ‘Robert Peel’, and that they had been, for the most part, tenants of the Marquis of Lansdowne, on his County Kerry estate – ejected without mercy by him, and “shipped” for America in this wholesale way. Among them were grey haired and aged men and women, who had spent the heyday of their life as tillers of their native soil and are now sent to this country to find a grave. This is too bad – it is inhuman; and yet it is an act of indiscriminate and wholesale expatriation committed by the “liberal” President.”

 Did no one in high places disagreed with him or pointed out that there were humane ways of dealing with the Irish land problem. Did no one in the government say that it was cruel and inhumane to subject old women and children, with no adult to support them, to the rigours of an Atlantic crossing in a Coffin Ship, followed by disembarkation in the snows of Canada, the stews of New York, or possibly worst of all, the sums of Liverpool? Did no one say that many of these people would die aboard ship and be buried at sea? Or that when they landed in a filthy, emaciated state, unskilled in anything but the lowest labouring work, for which disease had in any case unfitted most of them, they would be received in their new situations with fear and execration? The answer to this question is – of course there were voices continually protesting government policy, but to no avail. From the point of view of the landlords the emigration scheme was an unqualified economic success, and they held sway in Westminster.

New York was the main entry port for emigrants into America, and it did not welcome them warmly. In fact, the first reaction of the American Congress toward emigrants fleeing from the Famine in Ireland was to try to keep them out. Far from validating a subsequent inscription on the Statue of Liberty, which welcomed the poor and huddled masses of the world, Congress passed Navigation Acts that tightened up embarkation laws in a variety of ways. Captains either had to enter a bond that no passenger would become a burden on the city or pay a ‘commutation fee’, as it was known, of $10 per passenger. The port of Boston went further and placed a levy of $1,200 on aged or infirm persons. Ships with fever aboard were refused landing rights. This rejection meant that passengers who had already suffered the horrors of the Atlantic voyage were driven away from the American ports and sent to British ports, such as those in British Canada.

But the determination of the emigrants was such that, having landed in Canada, they proceeded to pour back across the American border by any means they could. This caused further antagonisms and tensions among the Americans that were directed against the Irish. Moreover, their own failure to prosper triggered a rather unpleasant trait among the emigrant population, which was deeply held anti-black feelings on their part. As the Irish strived to find their feet in their new home, they began to rail at the fact that black labour was undercutting their wages, and anti-black riots became part of the Irish-American experience. Meanwhile, the WASPs (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants) who controlled America, and nativist groups such as the ‘Know Nothings’ were also antagonistic to the hordes of ragged, starving Irish Catholics that were arriving daily. New York in those days was wild and unruly sort of city. Not only were the Irish accused of living like pigs they kept them, much as they had done in Ireland. The ‘New York Sun’ newspaper estimated in August 1847 that there were upward of ten thousand pigs roaming the streets of the city and causing a great threat to the health and welfare of its citizens. But, when public outcry led to a police crackdown on the keeping of pigs, the Irish put up such a stern resistance to police efforts to commandeer their animals that eventually they were left to continue with their piggeries. These only added to the miseries of the slum accommodation they had to endure. This was created principally in two ways, firstly was the old ‘Knickerbocker Houses’ (Apartment buildings) once owned by the wealthy who got out as soon as the emigrants started to come in. The second type of slum accommodation, however, was deliberately constructed by and for them. These flimsy, jerry-built ‘barracks’, as they were known, were rented out to emigrants by the room and very soon became overcrowded. All of these habitations in the slum areas had one thing in common, and that was dirt and lack of sanitation.

 The ‘Barracks’ were generally built behind existing buildings and therefore had to be reached through narrow, noxious alleys in which dirt of all sorts quickly accumulated.  Rubbish collection and disposal was rarely heard of, pigsties abounded, and there were piles of what was described as ‘decaying matter’ giving off awful smells. The buildings were surrounded by moats of sewerage that were just ‘pools of standing water’. Given their poverty and numbers, it was inevitable in the early decades of Irish mass emigration to North America that the words ‘slum’ and ‘Irish’ became synonymous. Being essentially a communal people, the Irish emigrants tended to congregate in ‘Irish Quarters’, and they stayed in the cities – only about ten per cent moved on to rural areas. The city dwelling Irish were fodder for the political bosses who ruled the various precincts and wards. They also became notorious for their drunken rows, street brawls, and violent crime. So low was the reputation of the Irish, in fact, that it took many years for the Famine emigrants to overcome their disadvantages, and to begin to make a positive contribution to the countries they had reached.

In Boston they congregated in what became known as the ‘Eighth Ward’ of the city, which is an area known today as the affluent ‘Back Bay District’. From there some of the more successful occasionally spread out, as in New York with the Knickerbocker houses, to the homes of wealthy Boston citizens in the North End. These old houses had large gardens that rapidly became covered in cabins reminiscent of those the emigrants had left behind in Ireland. Even the alleyways were built over, while the spaces between the houses and sometimes the houses themselves “had within them stores, shops and places where fruit, vegetables and refreshments (grog) were sold.” In 1849 the Board of Aldermen reported – “The Back Bay at this hour is nothing less than a great cesspool, into which is daily deposited all the filth of a large and constantly increasing population … A greenish scum, many yards wide stretches along the shore and the basin, while the surface of the water beyond is seen bubbling like a cauldron with the noxious gases that are escaping from the corrupting mass below.” Houses in the area were often reported to be “flooded with every tide” and yet the Irish packed themselves into the cellars of such houses. These cellars had low ceilings and, in one recorded case, a ceiling only five feet high, the same as the width of the cellar, which still held eighteen people. Poverty, disease and crime flourished in these conditions, which inevitably had the greatest effect upon the children, whose major outdoor activity was not playing football or childish games but begging. The Mortality Rate among Irish Catholics was estimated between 1841 and 1845 as having decimated the children, with 61.5 per cent dying before they reached the age of five years.

Generally, the emigrants who came to Canada fared better than many of those who had landed in Liverpool, which was the principal port of entry for Irish emigrants to England. Because England was closer to Ireland than North America it was the cheapest and shortest journey for the fleeing paupers, and they filled the large numbers of ferries and packet-boats that served Liverpool. Besides being a major port, Liverpool in the 1840s was a huge bustling city. Its vast wealth had been derived from the trade of empire, including slavery. These riches had created both mansion and slum, with the latter probably being among the very worst in Europe. It was an unfortunate feature of the city was the number of poor people who lived in cellars or in “courts”, which were streets of houses built facing each other that were often separated by roadways only nine feet wide. The filth and stench of these areas were almost indescribable, with sewage and surface water being carried off through open, and often clogged, drains. In 1841 the population of Liverpool numbered approximately 250,000, according to the census returns. Between December 1846 and the following June, the population of the city had increased to 300,00 by poverty-stricken and starving Irish.

The large numbers of emigrants and their terrible condition on arrival presented a threat to the city as well as to themselves. But, the only official relief provided by the authorities was a distribution of tents and the provision of two floating hulks on the river Mersey, which were used as hospital ships for fever victims. Dislocation, anxiety, hunger, and want created such mental stress among the Irish emigrants that many became mentally ill, patient levels in all Lancashire asylums reached incredibly high levels. Traditionally, the Irish who were forced by conditions to emigrate, considered themselves to be exiles rather than willing travellers. They, as a rural people, had no history of travel from their native place, no folk memory of it, and no idea of the society they were travelling to. They were buried in the mud they died in, and their dreadful working lives contributed to a pattern that would continue for decades, generating much hostility toward the Irish emigrants. They worked for lower wages than anyone else and in more dangerous conditions. In Louisiana, for example, the slave owners for example, would not allow their slaves to work on the New Orleans Canal, because they possessed a commercial value that the Irish did not. Such things were easily understood when you realise the frenzy and despair that forced the Irish out of Ireland during the years of Famine. It was a time when able-bodied, and law-abiding men actively sought transportation to Van Dieman’s Land and elsewhere, just to get out of Ireland. At home, death lay all around them and touched every the lives of every individual and every family.

Sex and the Famine

Recently, I was reading through several books on the ‘Great Famine in Ireland’, or ‘Genocide for those who prefer to think of it that way.  I read about Mayo, Sligo, Galway and West Cork where the men women and children died in their thousands during the ‘Great Famine’ in towns like Skibbereen and Ballinrobe. But, among this list should be numbered a coastal town in County Clare that is located in the south-west of the county, near the mouth of the River Shannon. This is Kilrush and there were few places, except for those named above, that suffered more severely from a combination of eviction and famine in the middle of the nineteenth century.

Reading an article by Paul Gray and Liam Kennedy, both lecturers in history at Queen’s University, Belfast, which was published in a recent edition of “History Ireland”, heightened my interest in all areas of life affected by the Famine. They pointed out that Kilrush was renowned for something that I had never thought of before.  The area became noteworthy for the apparent surge in illegitimate births that occurred over the twenty years after the ‘Great Famine’. According to reports, by 1864 these illegitimate births accounted for at least ten per cent of all births that were recorded in the baptism register for the Catholic parish of Kilrush.  Both Gray and Kennedy point out that this was a remarkably high proportion for mid-Victorian Ireland, especially when one considers that prior to the ‘Famine’ the ratio was barely one percent in most years. Their conclusion was that the spectacular and sustained rise in recorded illegitimate births might suggest that there was a radical change in sexual mores in this County Clare town and its surrounding area. The surprise in these statistics lies in the fact that this occurred in the west of Ireland, which is generally considered to be the one region of Ireland were morals were high and, therefore, there were very few illegitimate births.

The article’s authors questioned the possibility that the ‘Famine’ and the associated evictions were likely causes for the surprising rise in illegitimate births. They suggested that it was possible, that in all the tragedy and suffering experienced by the people of Kilrush and its environs during those years of ‘Famine’, that sexual morals may have been forced to disappear by circumstances. With starvation rampant, surely it is not too far-fetched to imagine that some women felt it necessary to barter their bodies for food, a roof over their head, or money to help their suffering.  It is an unfortunate fact of life that food shortages in a male dominated society can also open numerable opportunities for the sexual exploitation of women by unscrupulous men. In many cases there were many who became pregnant and were comfortable to declare that their husbands had abandoned them to sail for America, or other destinations. In more normal times, the alleged father would have most certainly been dragged to the altar and obliged to honour his responsibilities. These days, however, were far from being normal times. The collapse of the Irish peasantry’s potato-led economy, the decimation of family, the breakdown of communal support, and the beginnings of mass emigration made abandonment of responsibilities a strategic alternative for the restless and rash-minded males. For these women, in such desperate times, the ability to bring social pressures to bear on such men was not easily accomplished. The vulnerable and too trusting women, especially if the family and community support network had been lost because of death or emigration, were left to bring up the child alone in conditions that were not good for continued survival.

From the records it appears that illegitimacy in Kilrush rose considerably during the ‘Famine’, as well as during its immediate aftermath. The effects of the ‘Famine’, however, were only short-term rather than long-term in nature, which suggests other possible causes for the rise in illegitimate births in this area. One possible answer could be the fact that Kilrush is a port town, which are often associated with prostitution and illegitimacy. Furthermore, with the rise of coastal holidays during the Victorian era, the town became the gateway to the growing holiday resorts of west Clare, such as Kilkee on the Atlantic coastline. The authors of the article, Gray and Kennedy, quote a visitor to Kilkee complaining that the resort was “infested by a number of unfortunate women, who disturb the inhabitants and visitors at night”. This must have been a most enjoyable attraction to some of the visitors to the town because, despite a public condemnation from the pulpit of the Catholic Church, the infestation continued unabated. It is reported that two of these unfortunate ladies from Kilrush, were assaulted by the local priest as they plied their trade. The priest, however, was arrested and was subsequently fined one shilling and costs for his pains. There are also suggestions that the sex trade in this area was being supplemented seasonally, to coincide with the tourist trade, by prostitutes from Limerick city.

The increase in the incidence of illegitimacy suggests that this can only be a small part of the story as to why it occurred. There is, of course, the speculation that Kilrush, and the area surrounding the town, had within it a “bastardy-prone sub-society”. Research suggests, however, that of the 211 mothers recorded as giving birth to children outside wedlock in the quarter-century after the ‘Famine’, only eighteen per cent were bearers of more than one illegitimate child. The article gave the example of a woman called, Mary Giffin, had illegitimate children baptised in August 1858, August 1861, September 1863 and September 1868. A certain Margaret Byrnes is also mentioned, whose illegitimate children were baptised in June 1859, March 1861, August 1863 and May 1865. These examples, however, were more the exception than the rule and most single mothers did not repeat the experience of bearing a child out of wedlock.

The explanation put forward by Mr Gray and Mr Kennedy is much simpler than any of the preceding suggestions. Taking a more detailed examination of the Catholic baptismal register for Kilrush parish revealed that approximately sixty per cent of births for the period 1850–75 were to women from the workhouse. But, the Kilrush workhouse served the entire union and not just the parish of Kilrush. When these workhouse births were excluded from the statistics, then the numbers that could be attributable to Kilrush were reduced to the more normal levels expected in a town situated in the west of Ireland. From these results, then, the inflated levels of illicit sexuality in Kilrush after the ‘Famine’ appear to be due to a quirk of registration rather than from any radical shift in the sexual behaviour of Clare men and Clare women. But, the result raises wider questions about the validity of parish register information on illegitimacy.  This is true, not just for Ireland but for all those societies where the institutionalised provision of welfare might affect the recording of illegitimate births.

What kind of life did these unmarried mothers, who increasingly used the workhouse, live? The answer is not clear to us since the indoor relief registers for Kilrush, which would give some detail of the individual lives of unmarried mothers, have not survived. The indoor relief registers for the Rathdrum and Shillelagh Poor Law unions have somehow survived, and they provide a touching image of unmarried mothers and their children. While some of these women appear to have merited only a few lines, there were others who were more regular visitors. Mary Donnelly, was a 22-year-old servant from Arklow, who was admitted to Rathdrum workhouse on 16 August 1850. She was heavily pregnant when admitted and she gave birth to Thomas on 6 September, leaving the institution with the child ten days later and does not appear to have returned to the workhouse.  A certain Ellen Power entered Rathdrum workhouse on 18 February 1851, as a homeless 24-year-old charwoman. Her daughter was born on 27 March 1851 and taken from the workhouse without her mother on 8 August 1851.  Ellen subsequently left the workhouse on the 14th of that month. Another young woman called Eliza Ashton, a 22-year-old servant, arrived in Rathdrum workhouse on 17 September 1850, and left again a week later. Then, on 6 October, Eliza was admitted into the workhouse as a patient and less than a week later Thomas was born. Both mother and child left on 26 October, Eliza does not appear to have returned to the workhouse again.

While some unmarried mothers left little trace in the workhouse record, there were others who made many appearances in those records. A woman called Eliza Geoghan, a 25-year-old garden worker, used the Rathdrum workhouse 23 times between 27 August 1850 and 2 June 1862. During that time her son John was born on 21 December 1850, with mother and child subsequently leaving the institution on 24 February 1851. Both entered the workhouse again, however, with John being removed on 24 June, a month before his mother left. While nothing more of John is recorded, Eliza returned to the workhouse, pregnant again, on 19 February 1854, and Dennis was born just over a week later. Both mother and child left the workhouse on 23 June 1854, but they were to enter the institution three more times between June 1854 and April 1856. Unfortunately, during their last visit, beginning on 23 September 1855, Dennis was to die on 9 April the following year. Eliza appears to have left only 9 days later, on 18 April 1856 but returned many times, spending the winters of 1856 and 1857 there, though she gave birth to no more children in the workhouse. It appears that most of the time she lived within the electoral division of Dunganstown East, only changing her residence to another townland twice. On her last two visits to the workhouse, however, she was most probably homeless and suffering increased destitution. She was mostly described as a ‘servant’, but also a ‘garden worker’ and, on what was her penultimate visit, she was said to be ‘infirm’ and apparently unemployed.

Yet another example of the multiple user was that of Jane Allen, who was to use Rathdrum workhouse on 34 occasions between 17 September 1850 and 13 March 1863. She was a twenty-six years old servant, who first arrived in Rathdrum workhouse on 17 September 1850 and gave birth to her son, John, on 19 October. John was subsequently taken away on 6 June 1851 and Jane left four days later. While nothing more is known about John, we do know Jane was to have three more children: Eliza (30 July 1852), born in the workhouse, Ellen (1856), born outside the workhouse, and James (8 September 1861), born in the house. During these years Jane is known to have stayed in Dunganstown South or Dunganstown West electoral divisions, though she did occasionally change townlands. It is also known that sometimes she and her children would stay for several months. On other occasions they would  stay only a matter of days. Although during her earlier stays in the workhouse Jane was referred to as a servant, for most of the times that stayed in the workhouse she was described as a ‘charwoman’. More interestingly, it seems that her marital status changed during the period, for example she was registered as being single for the period up to February 1861, then she is described as ‘married’ during her stay in February/March 1861, but on her next admittance, in August 1861, she is described as ‘single’ once again. Her children were admitted as ‘deserted’ in March 1861, leaving in June 1861, but the family was reunited in August 1861. They were to enter the workhouse five more times after this and, on each occasion, Jane is described as married. Her marital status can be said to be confusing during these years and one must wonder if she was not in fact a deserted wife, or perhaps intermittently so.

Stories such as these help to give us a much clearer picture of the perilous existence that faced an unmarried mother at this time. To some the workhouse was viewed as a resource in the constant battle against poverty, especially among the peasantry, including unmarried or abandoned mothers. We can, therefore, say that to some extent the unmarried mother did have some support, but in mid- and late Victorian Ireland this support system was of an extremely restricted kind. Throughout rural Ireland the life that faced unmarried mothers was one of desperation.  They faced religious, family and community hostility, as well as an unsympathetic and sometimes punitive system of welfare provision. Those who were known as ‘bastard-bearers’ were generally ground down between the actions of society and the state although, to some extent, their Unfortunatelysituation may have varied within the urban and industrialised Province of Ulster

Little is known of the fate of the illegitimate children born during this period. But, Gray and Kennedy give us the case of Eliza Pearson, who was aged four-years when she was discovered at the door of ‘Shillelagh’ workhouse and was deserted by her mother, Anne.  Eliza was taken into the workhouse on 19 June 1850 and left on 10 April 1856. Another child, Thomas Dwier, who was aged five and described as a ‘bastard’, was admitted on 29 February 1852. His mother had been transported and had left him ‘destitute without food’ and, in fact, is one of the very few instances where a male illegitimate child is mentioned in the records available. There is, however, no record of his departure from the workhouse. Finally, Bridget Nugent was nine when she was deserted by her father and as a deserted bastard, she had no friends or home. She was, therefore, admitted on 10 January 1851 and did not leave the workhouse until the 28 July 1855.  

It has surely not gone unnoticed that unmarried and pregnant women suffered stigmatisation and degradation under both the workhouse system and in the larger society, men appear to have largely escaped notice or sanction. The Thurles union replied to a circular from the ‘Poor Law Commissioners’, concerning moral classification, by condemning the unfairness in gender terms of a system that singled out female morality in the workhouse. At the same time the Thurles Union pointed out that no classification in this respect has been made at the male side. It is a fact that there are few clues as to the unmarried mothers in Kilrush, whose names are contained in the parish records. It must be said that even less is known about those shadowy but potent figures of males who had set women on a downward course to vilification, destitution and disgrace.

It is an irony of the history of the Irish workhouses that they could have become places for ‘immoral behaviour’, despite the rules and regimentation that governed these grim institutions. In the minutes of the Kilrush union for 1853 it is revealed that the master and the matron of the workhouse had been accused of immorality. The accused persons were, however, later acquitted. According to the rules and regulations of the Poor Law system, women and men were to be strictly segregated within the penal institution of the workhouse. But in 1853 the master reported, no doubt with some concern – ‘I beg to report to the board that Mr Nolan the resident apothecary informed me on Sunday last that a pauper woman named Kate Quinn who has been in this house for a long time was pregnant. On enquiry it would appear that a pauper man named John Griffin who is also in the house for a long period is the father. Kate Quinn left the workhouse on the 15th inst. Griffin also took his discharge on the 17th inst.’

As expected ‘The Poor Law’ guardians were not amused – ‘It is much to be regretted that such an evil should have occurred, and the guardians conceive that there must be much neglect on the part of the officers in charge’.

The workhouse system itself was the subject of much criticism, and it certainly bore down heavily on its inmates, both in terms of physical hardship and stigmatisation. But, we must also recognise that it also furnished a safety net for the single mother in her battle for survival in an increasingly hostile moral climate of later Victorian Ireland. There appears to be a tradition within Ireland of labour exploitation and repression, and sometimes outright cruelty, in various societies like the workhouses and the later Magdalene asylums, that were run by Irish Catholic nuns. In pre-independence, or post-independence, Ireland it is evident that society would ensure that there was no easy way out of the trap of unmarried motherhood.

N.B. If you should wish to read more of the work of P. Gray and L. Kennedy the following books are available –

‘Famine, illegitimacy and the workhouse in Western Ireland’, in A. Levene and P. Nutt (eds), Illegitimacy in Britain (London, 2005).

Also L. Kennedy’s study,

‘Bastardy and the Great Famine: Ireland, 1845–1850’, Continuity and Change 14 (3) (1999).

An Gorta Mor IX Part 1

1848

Famine, Eviction and Emigration

 As we have seen, the potato crop of 1847 was not affected by the accursed blight, because the weather conditions had been too dry for the blight to spread. But the crop itself, though free from rot, was much too small to make any major difference to the on-going tragedy that was still affecting Ireland. In response, therefore, the farmers made great efforts to increase the yield from their 1848 crop. Everyone worked at maximum speed and with all their energies they began to plant as many potatoes as possible in the land.

The measure of their success was that the total acreage of potatoes planted in 1848 was three times more than that planted in the previous year. But, this success was marred by an extremely wet summer, which helped the blight to rage once again, causing the crop to be lost. The authorities immediately turned to the Quakers once again and asked them if they would re-establish the soup kitchens, but they refused. They gave the reason for their refusal to be that their workers were physically exhausted by their previous efforts and that their resources were almost completely at an end. Furthermore, the Quakers confident that by giving free relief to the victims was damaging to their self-respect in the long run. However, they were equally strong in their belief that reform of the land system was an essential step forward. The decision by the efficient and humanitarian Quaker organisation that they would pull out of Ireland in the face of a terrible famine, although given to the authorities in a polite letter to Prime Minister Russell.

It quickly became clear that the policy of ‘doing nothing’ previously employed by the government would, once again, become the rule in Ireland. There were to be a number of circumstances and incidents that gave the Liberal government, in London, a satisfactory excuse for their non-efforts. It is ironic when you consider that, one of the most important circumstances was the effect of the Famine itself on the population, which gave rise to widespread lawlessness and the shooting of landlords.

On 1st October 1847, a new ‘Poor Law’ was brought into being, which was to be planned and controlled from Dublin, rather than London, by the ‘Irish Poor Law Board’. The new ‘Law’, however, impressed none of those whose task it was to enforce it. Commissioner Twistleton, for example, could not visualise just how the new law could possibly work in practice. He simply chose to avoid any opportunity to be blamed for its failure by completely neglecting to produce a plan.

Charles Trevelyan, however, had no hesitation in filling the void that was left, and he began to draw up a plan to enforce the new Poor Law in Ireland. In this plan, Trevelyan looked to expel the infirm, the widows and the orphans from the workhouses, and to give these people outside relief, but only in the form of cooked food. Henceforth, he decided, only the able-bodied were to be given relief inside the workhouse. At the same time, in order to ensure that the new scheme was not inundated by able-bodied men, Trevelyan’s plans carried the old and familiar stipulation that obtaining a place in the workhouse was to be made as difficult, and as unattractive, as possible.An Gorta Mor

In the latter half of 1847 England was hit hard by a major economic crisis, much of which had been caused by very injudicious speculation in the global wheat trade. The Prime Minister, Lord John Russell, at this time, wrote to the Irish Viceroy, Lord Clarendon to inform him about the unfortunate implications that this economic crisis would have for Ireland – “I fear you have a most troublesome winter ahead of you … Here we have no money”. Clarendon complained about Trevelyan’s plans and openly declared that Trevelyan’s solution to the entire calamity was simply – “that people who were deprived of food or shelter and exposed to disease and starvation would naturally die off.” He, Trevelyan, had already told the poor law commissioner, Edward Twistleton, “The principle of the Poor Law as you very well know is that rate after rate should be levied for the purpose of preserving life, until the Landlord and farmer either enable the people to support themselves by honest industry, or dispose of their estates to those who can perform this indispensable duty.” It was clear that the Irish landlords were to pay for the Famine relief or be forced to sell their lands to others.

As the 1847 grain harvest ripened, many landlords immediately began to seize their tenants’ corn in lieu of rent that was owing. Then, when the rate collectors arrived in distressed areas like Connemara, there were no crops left for them to seize and, instead, they took any article considered to be of value that they came upon, including many items of clothing. Understanding the terrible conditions that the peasantry now found themselves in, Viceroy Clarendon asked the Prime Minister what practical steps could be taken in those areas of the country where there was no-one to levy rates upon.

Clarendon, above all people, should have known that there was, absolutely, no chance of receiving a humane response from the English cabinet. They were concerned with the finances of fighting famine in Ireland and to operate the new poor law effectively would require them to have collected £14 million in rates. Even as the bill made its way through the House of Lords, it was pointed out by several members that the Irish landlords were all in great debt. The amount of money that they owed was such that the total repayments on their combined borrowings came to approximately £10.5 million per annum while it was estimated, their actual combined annual income would only have amounted to a figure of some £3.5 million a year. But, the government chose to ignore what they saw as an inconvenient truth. In Ireland, Commissioner Twistleton gritted his teeth and did what he could for approximately a year and a half, to make Trevelyan’s allegedly realistic plan work. Eventually, Twistleton resigned from his post with anger and disgust during March 1849.

The government had decided that they would follow Trevelyan’s advice on this occasion, with regard to famine relief, which was simply ‘to do nothing’. The rules built into the new Poor Law were being strictly applied in this new famine period. Among the rules was one, The Labour Test, which required able-bodied men to complete eight hours’ work each day to maintain his place in the workhouse. In these places, the estimated cost of keeping each person alive for thirty-four weeks was £1, and each person was to receive one pound of meal a day to sustain them.

As this renewed famine began to bite hard into an already severely weakened population The Poor Law Unions in Ireland had a combined debt to the government of approximately £260,000. Meanwhile, the British Association, which had been paying out £13,000 per week in aid, finally ran out of funds on 1st July 1848. As money ran out and resources could not be renewed, the whole weight of assistance fell on the Unions, and the relief system gradually wound down. At the first opportunity the British administrators, such as Routh, decided they would now return to their homes. In the meantime, The Society of Friends continued to give what help they could to the victims of the famine, but they also realised that they were fighting a losing battle. The situation was soon made clear to all when, in September, Trevelyan told the troubled Unions that Treasury grants to them would be coming to an end, and there would, henceforth, be no more issues of free clothing.

Almost six months earlier, Lord John Russell had recognised that something had to be done to help the innocent. In a radical promise, he declared that the 200,000 children who had hitherto been fed by the ‘British Relief Association’, whose funds were already nearing exhaustion, should be sustained from the public purse. But, just as the November chills gripped Ireland in their icy hands, Trevelyan interfered once again. Without even the slightest protest from the Prime Minister, he put in writing that the feeding of the children was to stop at the same time that the tiny Treasury grants, which had been given to the more distressed unions, came to an end.

The year 1848 then, was to be a year when hatred competed with optimism in the hearts of Irelands starving people. The hatred of the people was principally directed toward the heartless landlords and, to a lesser degree, at the British government. There had been continued optimism at the prospects of a hugely improved harvest of potatoes, which lasted almost to the end of July. Everyone had been encouraged by the results obtained from the small percentage of seed potatoes that had been sown in 1847. An already impoverished people were compelled to pawn or sell everything they still possessed – clothes, bedding, furniture – in order to plant potatoes in every conceivable scrap of land they possessed.  The peasantry’s reliance on the potato was as great, if not greater than ever it had been. One can only imagine the despair and great distress that was caused by the unexpected reappearance of the blight. It meant the return of fever and famine, as well as a critical rise in rent arrears, which in turn meant a rise in evictions from the land

Infamously, Charles Trevelyan showed his thoughts on the continuation of the famine in Ireland when, in January, he published what later became his shockingly gloating book ‘The Irish Crisis’ in the pages of the ‘Edinburgh Review’. In its most crude form his ideology morally declines into the sectarian view that, through the Famine, God himself was punishing the Catholic Irish for their stubborn attachment to all the superstitions of ‘popery’. It was evidence of the policies that were going to be employed by the government in the months ahead.

With the horrors experienced in 1847 still so clear in their minds, we can only imagine the shock and terror that began to spread over Ireland as fearful reports of potato failure once more came in from various parts of the country. To the minds of poorly educated Irish peasants, the blight had returned to the land as if by the wave of a demon’s wand. The potatoes that had apparently been healthy were now bad as if they had been poisonously sprinkled by someone full of hate and anger against the poor and hungry. Amid all this despair, in July 1848, Trevelyan wrote in his normal, uncaring manner, “The matter is awfully serious, but we are in the hands of Providence with no possibility of averting the catastrophe, if it is to happen we can only await the result.”

An Gorta Mor VIII Part III

Souperism and Skibbereen

Although the idea of soup kitchens was a good one, its success depended on good quality food and made from decent raw materials. However, many of the relief committees went for quantity instead of quality, and they provided soup with very little food value in it. In some places the soup was far too liquid, leading to diarrhoea and an outbreak of scurvy caused by a lack of vitamins. In fact, filling famine-bloated bodies with watery soup did more harm than good.

There was, however, one basic flaw in the Soup Kitchen Act, which also proved to be a problem in the later Outdoor Relief System. The flaw lay in the fact that the money to cover both these projects was supposed to come from local ratepayers and not from the government. But, by this stage of the famine, it was almost impossible to collect rates anywhere in Ireland, and the local committees and Poor Law Unions began running up huge debts. It was recognised by all that the rates needed to fund this new system would have to have been at least ten times larger than anything collected before. Unfortunately, however, soldiers and police had already been used to collect the Poor Rate in parts of Galway and Mayo. Nevertheless, it was estimated that each shilling of rates gathered had cost one pound to collect it.

It was a deplorable fact that the Poor Rates fell most heavily on those areas where distress was most severe. Furthermore, since 1843, the landlords had been liable for paying all rates on property valued at under £4, the tenant being exempt. But, in these dark times, legislation provided an incentive to evict a tenant and pull down his cabin as a means of reducing the burden of Poor Rates upon him. Even under such circumstances, however, the local unions were still expected to collect rates to the utmost of their ability. To assist them in this effort, the rate collectors had been provided by the Government with considerable powers. They could seize the property and goods of a landlord to obtain payment for the rate money they had neglected to pay. Meanwhile, to ensure that the local effort was not undermined, the Treasury deliberately kept its financial contribution to a minimum and refused to release funds until they were convinced that starvation was the alternative left. Consequently, the finances of the poorest unions remained precarious and the relief provided was both piece-meal and sparse.

starvingThe small farmers were mostly destitute, and rent arrears grew higher and higher. In many cases the burden of rates encouraged farmers to leave their land and emigrate to pastures new in other lands. Even some of the great landlords could not pay what they owed in rates and, consequently, many Unions became bankrupt. The provision of ‘Outdoor Relief’ was more expensive than keeping people in the workhouse, so there were constant efforts to keep the lists seeking such relief small. In many cases this simply meant names being crossed off the list for the thinnest of reasons. In an article written in ‘THE NATION’ newspaper it was reported – “Here as elsewhere, the people are exported in numbers. The eflux is ceaseless. The consolidation of farms is rapidly going on, and the aristocratic wish fulfilled to the letter.

But where a family sell a small farm, two or three helpless members remain behind. Some are too old to tempt fate, and the waters, and the wilderness – some wish to lay their bones in their native earth – some are sick-stricken – some timid, some pious, some utterly unable – but in every case two or three remain behind.”

It was all very well for Lord John Russell to rise in the House and say that the landlords must be compelled to pay, but what if there were no landlords available to pay? There were, by now, large, impoverished districts all over Ireland with no landed proprietor. One Irish nationalist newspaper stated quite clearly within its pages, “The Government cannot this time save them. But, if they cannot secure profit to the merchant, they have by anticipation excluded the Irish pauper from the advantage of foreign care as far as it has affected the market. To him the change has brought no alteration but for the worse. It is as if the light and life of spring burst around him and his heart, by some relentless fate was kept locked in gloom and ice.

Heretofore, as I showed, each person had one and one-third pound of Indian meal per day; or rather, by an almost utter denial to himself of most other necessaries, he could secure this quantity, with the means of cooking it.

Now he is allowed by the relief committee, under the recent act, one pound. He has no means whatever to purchase fuel, none to light him, none to clothe; one pound of raw meal, be it dear or cheap, cost it threepence or a farthing, is his fated allowance. Then to conceive the struggle, there is to obtain it, the label of beggary, the hazard of a short supply, the weakness of the applicant to jostle his way in such a jarring medley, and the certain end of failure, with no earthly alternative left – this is a thing of which I can give no idea – a complication of wretchedness, confusion, and degradation, before which the mind sinks in dumb and helpless sorrow.”

Perhaps the most controversial section of the ‘Extension Act’ was the ‘Quarter Acre’ or “The Gregory Clause”, which stipulated that a person who occupied more than a quarter of an acre of land could not receive relief either inside or outside the workhouse. ‘The Quarter Acre Clause’, however, was only one factor in a package of fiscal measures which accompanied the transfer to Poor Law Relief, which were punitive both to indebted landlords and small-holders alike. There is little doubt that the substantial rise in evictions after 1847 can be largely attributed to its introduction. There were reports, however, that said some destitute small holders had chosen to starve themselves and their families to death, rather than give up their land. Nevertheless, the increase in evictions was welcomed by several members of the government who had become convinced that a draconian adherence to the provisions of the Poor Act was necessary if Ireland was to emerge from the Famine socially and economically stronger.

The numbers in receipt of Poor Law relief, meanwhile, rose steadily after autumn 1847.  This increase was helped by an expansion in temporary workhouse accommodation and the decision to increase the number of unions from 130 to 163. Although the treasury had hoped that all external financial assistance to the unions would end after the autumn of 1847, this was to prove impossible.  The Outdoor Relief System now began to operate, as the soup kitchens closed, one after another. It was laid down, in the new Poor Law Act, that non-able-bodied poor could be given relief either in the workhouse or outside it, namely in their homes. It was left to ‘The Boards of Guardians’ to decide who would qualify. The able-bodied poor, meaning those who were still able to work, could also be relieved if they were unemployed and destitute, but only inside the workhouse. Only if the workhouse was full, or was infected with fever, could the able-bodied poor be granted relief outside, although only for two months, if they agreed to hard labour. This usually involved them breaking stones for ten hours per day before they would receive their portion. This was later lowered to eight hours, but it made little difference because stone-breaking was the work most hated by the poor and many kept away to avoid it.

Yet another way of restricting the numbers seeking Outdoor Relief was to insist on the paupers attending the workhouse every single day, to collect the cooked food offered. But, the Boards of Guardians often delegated the food distribution to meal contractors or shopkeepers, and this meant that there were far fewer points for distribution than there had been in the days of the soup kitchens. People had to walk several miles to the nearest point, and sometimes the food would have spoiled by the time they got home to their families. Eventually the fact was faced that cooked food caused more problems than it solved, and the authorities began to distribute uncooked food again, although the poor had neither the knowledge or the fuel to cook it properly. This and a combination of poor health and bad weather, helped to keep down the numbers who claimed their food.

Without doubt, the relief authorities made various improvement to the workhouse system, such as building separate hospitals, expanding the space for accommodation, and freely giving Outdoor Relief even to the able-bodied poor.  The local Boards of Guardians tried to restrict relief as much as possible, as they knew there would not be enough money to cover all the demands. The poor, however, hated the workhouse system, and feared the fevers that were now spreading fast, so as many as possible applied for Outdoor Relief.

Then, as the grip of the famine intensified, more and more ratepayers defaulted and, as a result, many unions became bankrupt. Cheques were dishonoured, and contractors refused to supply food, causing diets to deteriorate still further. Quite quickly the effects of severely curtailed rations soon became evident in the physical appearance of the paupers and by the end of 1847 chaos reigned in many workhouses. The Ballinrobe workhouse became the subject of much correspondence among commissioners. There were reports that there was no food in its kitchen and no meals were eaten in the dining hall. Instead, paupers got their food rations raw in the morning and cooked them in numerous locations throughout the building. For some the diets in the workhouse had become so bad that inmates committed crimes to get transferred to the relatively better conditions of the gaols. Reporting on the Cork workhouse, Dr. Stephens, said that he had found 150 boys in one ward, sharing 24 beds. The week before his visit, 60 children aged under thirteen had died in this workhouse. In his opinion even if the workhouse had been good enough, most of the children arriving were already so weak and ill that hardly anything could be done for them. Meanwhile, in Limerick, a visitor wrote, “I never saw one solitary instance of any one attempt to cheer these little ones, in any one of the very many ways in which we know children, sick and dying, can be cheered.”  He said that he was appalled by their lack of movement, “in the very act of death still not a tear nor a cry. I have scarcely ever seen one try to change his or her position … Two, three or four in a bed, there they lie and die, if suffering ever silent, unmoved.”

Many of these deaths were due to fevers rather than starvation. In fact, fever was endemic in pre-Famine Ireland and flared up periodically into nationwide epidemics. There was widespread awareness of the contagiousness of the disease and its ability to leap class and social barriers. Characteristically the fever began among the poor and spread to their social superiors, among whom it proved to be much more lethal. The disease impinged on rural and urban dwellers, and affected cities, towns and villages as well as the isolated cabins of the cottiers and agricultural labourers. Fever had a devastating impact on the already precarious existence of the poor. Each attack, with the weakness it left behind, lasted about six weeks and, with successive family members being struck down, fever might persist in a poor man’s cabin for months on end and, thus, it had a major pauperising influence, often reducing the poor to absolute penury.

Earlier, in March 1847, a ship carrying fever-ridden emigrants was forced by bad weather to put into Belfast, and typhus fever swept through the city.  Hordes of famine victims were already pouring into Belfast, seeking relief, and the epidemic reached its peak in July. Meanwhile, in Dublin, the fever epidemic reached its worst in June, and the victim count did not begin to decline until February 1848. The prevalence and perniciousness of fever in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the threat it posed to rich and poor alike provoked considerable debate on its causation and diffusion. While doctors differed over causation, there were some aspects of fever which were largely beyond dispute, such as the contagiousness of the disease, its tendency to appear at times of social upheaval or economic crisis, and its consequences. The humane and hospitable dispositions of the people of Ireland mainly contributed to introduce contagion into their dwellings.

Skibbereen 1The doctors blamed the outbreak of fever on hunger and its social consequences, on the almost tangible misery, distress and despondency which appeared to be everywhere. There was a complete disintegration of the social norms, the only reality being the desperate search for sustenance. Hygiene was neglected, clothing and bedding were pawned or left unchanged for months on end, and displaced families, who had abandoned their holdings, or been evicted, congregated together in vacant cabins throughout the country. The sick and dying clamoured for admission to the workhouses, while the jails and bridewells were filled to overflowing. Dirt, neglect and gross overcrowding generated fever, which was diffused in a variety of ways, by vagrancy, by the intermingling of the infected, the convalescent and the healthy at soup shops, food depots and public works. Even those who were barely able to crawl out of their makeshift beds were compelled by the direst necessity to report for work on the roads, where, according to one County Kilkenny doctor, they occupied themselves “in industrious idleness” and in infecting their susceptible work-mates. Wakes, funerals, weddings and patterns were condemned for the role they played in spreading fever. Soup kitchens attracted considerable ensure also. The promise of a free meal drew large numbers of the destitute and the hungry, many of them fever stricken, into cities and towns, and thus facilitated the transference of infected lice to new victims. Some medical practitioners believed that food depots, by relieving hunger, were instrumental in suppressing fever, others that they contributed to its dissemination by assembling large crowds of paupers. There was no such ambiguity regarding wakes. During the traditional mourning period, friends, namesakes and relatives assembled to pay homage to the memory of the deceased and to indulge in copious supplies of whisky, snuff and tobacco that were generally available on these occasions. It was part of the Irish tradition that even the lowliest in life should be so honoured in death. The survivors would have considered themselves eternally disgraced if the customary homage had not been paid to the memory of the deceased.

The frequent concurrence during famine of two distinct infections, typhus fever and relapsing fever. The epidemiology of the two disease is very similar. Typhus and relapsing fever propagate most actively in conditions which favour lice infestation, notably in the squalid and overcrowded residences of the poor. It was social dislocation and the disruption of normal living patterns caused by famine which transformed the nations endemic fever into destructive, terrorising epidemics. Epidemic fever in Ireland was usually preceded, accompanied or followed by certain other diseases, notably bacillary dysentery and smallpox. It is fact that relatively few died from actual starvation, the majority succumbing to diseases which were collectively described by one medical observer as “a sort of famine poison.” The great despoiling infections were typhus, typhoid and relapsing fever, dysentery and diarrhoea, severe measles, and smallpox of a ‘peculiarly malignant character, which according to the Board of Health, prevailed very extensively in 1849. Cholera, which affected Ireland pandemically in 1848-49, was not one of the fevers of the Great Famine. Its appearance was a coincidence, but it contributed to the overall distress and mortality. Among the poor, especially, dysentery and diarrhoea were the most frequent and most fatal complications of famine fever. According to Doctor Daniel Donovan of Skibbereen, County Cork, chronic dysentery, or ‘starvation dysentery’ as it was sometimes called, was almost universal among the destitute. He categorised this affliction as the most complicated and loathsome of diseases and one which was infinitely more lethal than cholera. Typhus Fever affected those in authority very badly, the middle-aged middle-classes. Because of the strain it put on the heart, older people were very vulnerable to it. Where forms of fever had always been endemic, many of the poor had formed an immunity to it during their youth, but doctors and medical officers, priests and clergymen, relieving officers and workhouse officials all took the fever, and many died. Seven doctors died in County Cavan in 1847, and forty-eight in the province of Munster. Of 473 medical officers appointed by the Board of Health, one out of every 13 died.

The term ‘Dysentery’ was formerly applied to any condition in which inflammation of the colon was associated with frequent passage of blood stools. Hence, its earlier designation, ‘The Bloody Flux’. The term is now restricted to amoebic dysentery, which is almost entirely confined to tropical and sub-tropical countries, and to Bacillary Dysentery, and infectious disease which may occur sporadically or in epidemics. The disease is caused by the dysentery bacillus and the infection is spread by flies, by direct contact, or by pollution of the water by faeces infected with the bacillus. Dysentery is rendered more virulent by famine and by the concurrence of other exhausting diseases, being strongly conditioned by nutritional status. At one time, mortality rates were as high as 50% during epidemics, with Ordinary Dysentery killing the children rather than the adults. This deadly infection was, at one time, attributed to the potato substitutes which the starving were compelled to eat, and to the pickings of the field, hedgerow, shoreline, and especially to the immoderate consumption of raw or partially cooked Indian meal by those individuals who had neither the knowledge, fuel or patience to prepare it properly.

Scurvy, causing teeth to drop out and joints to swell, had been almost unknown in pre-Famine Ireland, because is caused by lack of vitamin C, which is plentiful in potatoes. Now it affected thousands of people, often causing fatal haemorrhaging. The eye infection, Ophthalmia, also spread rapidly in the overcrowded workhouse conditions, and hundreds of children lost their sight, partially or totally.

‘Relapsing Fever’ was the prevalent disease among the poor and destitute, while the higher social classes tended to contract the deadly typhus fever.  This was particularly true for those who were more exposed to infection, notably clergymen, doctors, members of relief committees and those with the administration of the Poor Law. A distinctive feature of famine feature fever, one on which several doctors commented was the peculiar smell which clung to the clothes and bodies of the poor. A County Clare physician observed that the ‘sooty and peat-smoke odour of former times’ had given way to a more offensive, sickening and readily recognisable one. This emanation was described by a doctor in West Cork as “a cadaverous suffocating odour”, a ‘peculiar mousy smell’, which was ‘always the forerunner of death.’ He stated, “As I entered the house the stench that proceeded from it was dreadful and noisome; but oh! What scenes presented themselves to my view as I proceeded through the wards and passages: patients lying on straw, naked and in their excrements, alight covering over them – in two beds living beings beside the dead, in the same bed with them and dead since the night before. There was no medicine – no drink – no fire.”

Meanwhile, Smallpox, the third of the epidemic triumvirate, which had ravaged Ireland for generations, was so virulent that it spreads independently of nutrition, As with fever, it was the social consequences of famine, especially the increase in vagrancy, which provided the ideal conditions for the propagation and diffusion of this highly infectious disease, one which killed, disfigured, blinded and terrorised countless thousands in Ireland and elsewhere in pre-modern and modern times.

In 1846, very soon after Famine had been declared, a Central Board of Health had been set up, to run hospitals and dispensaries. But it was soon closed, because there was very little sickness or fever to treat at that time, only starvation. As a result, when typhus began to spread, there were only 28 hospitals in Ireland, and none in the more remote areas of the country. At the same time, there were about 500 out-patient dispensaries, but again these were few and far between. Even so, more money had been spent on hospitals in Ireland than in Britain, and every county had an infirmary. Medical care, in the mid-nineteenth century, was mainly preventive with infected clothes being baked to kill the fever, and infected areas fumigated with sulphuric acid. Widespread reports of fever began to come in to the Relief Commissioners in early 1847.  These told of people dying quickly, in frightful numbers, and typhus was spreading like wildfire. The Central Board was rapidly reappointed to deal with this new emergency, and quickly discovered that the Workhouse Hospitals were far too small to deal with the numbers pouring in. Almost every inmate was now suffering with some form of illness, but there was not enough space to keep the sick away from those who were well. Temporary wooden fever wards, called ‘Fever Sheds’, were erected in some places, but many of the workhouses did not have the money to take such measures. Finally, the Government had to accept the fact that there was an epidemic, and rapidly brought in the ‘Irish Fever Act’ of April 1847. This Act now placed the responsibility for providing health care on the relief committees, instead of on the overburdened and debt-ridden Boards of Guardians. The Relief Committees could overrule the Guardians and do whatever was necessary for fever patients, without having to obey the Poor Law rules. The costs, they were assured, would be met by the government.

Very quickly the people began to learn about infection and how it could be controlled.  Almost overnight the age-old hospitality for which the Irish were renowned disappeared. Strangers were avoided, and if even one member of a family became infected, the whole family was left alone by neighbours and friends. Fever, it was discovered, was often caught through contact with the dead because, after death, the lice would leave the cooling body and transfer themselves to anyone who was nearby. The people now became afraid to bury the dead, and instead the cabins were often pulled down and burned over the corpses inside. It also became almost impossible to increase the size of burial- grounds available, because, the living feared having those who died of fever buried near them. Workhouse yards now became burial grounds and bodies of the dead were buried in huge pits, in batches.

At this stage we should, perhaps, look at events in Skibbereen during this period. The rapid spread of the strange potato disease in the summer and autumn of 1845 caused great concern in west Cork, and Skibbereen had always been a great potato-growing district in that area. In fact, it was said of Skibbereen, that the ground was so fertile there was always a superabundance of potatoes grown. But, it also meant that when the potato crop failed the labourers went hungry and, when this disease struck the potato crop again 1846 it was no surprise that the labourers found themselves starving. By 1847 the labourers’ main hope, like those of others throughout Ireland, became employment on the roads being created by the Board of Works, while the chief refuge for the destitute became the workhouse.

The condition of the people around Skibbereen became so bad that the Chief of the Relief Commission in Dublin, Randolf Routh, sent Commissary Inglis from Limerick to help organise the relief programme, and as a result two more soup-kitchens were set up.

The New Year of 1847, in all of County Cork, its title as the “Black ’47”.  In the meantime, ‘The Skibbereen Board of Guardians’ had announced that it had decided close the workhouse. Deaths from 10th November to the 7th January numbered 266, while for some period previously they had only been 10. The workhouse itself was filled to breaking-point.  Originally the house had been built to accommodate 800 inmates, but now there were 1169, 332 of whom were in fever. There were 121 patients in forty beds, and ‘The Union’ was deeply in debt.  The rates could not be collected as the land was deserted and the tenants destitute or dead or in the workhouse itself.

By early February the Skibbereen Soup Committee was bitterly complaining that the local relief committees could not obtain sufficient provisions from Col. Hughes’ stores in Skibbereen. The committee applied for ten tons of Indian meal, but they could only obtain only two tons. The price had increased from £18 to £19, but official records, however, revealed that there were 2,385 tons of meal still in the store. This was evidence of a policy of hoarding and it was Trevelyan’s stated policy that the ‘resources’ of the country should be ‘drawn out.’ As the famine grew worse in February, Trevelyan continued to say that ‘food could not be found.’ But, there were reports from several people that they had between 100 to 200 tons of meal, which he had difficulty in disposing of. The difficulty was said to be caused by the Skibbereen Relief Committee, which was selling meal indiscriminately for as little as two shilling and two pence a stone. The people with the meal believed that if the government bought it, they would save ‘the freight for shipping it to another market.’ Nevertheless, it is a prime example of how the British Government’s laissez-faire approach actually worked out in severe famine conditions. The provisions that were available were not adequate and were at inflated famine prices, especially when a road worker was only capable of earning eight pence a day. Moreover, whatever provisions were available were not all actually distributed. The records of the time show clearly that at the end of February 230 tons Indian meal had been issued, but that 410 tons were still in storage.

It was at this time that the newly appointed Chairman of the Relief Commission in Dublin, John Burgoyne, requested some extra aid for Schull. Trevelyan agreed that relief could be carried out, but only to a limited extent. Subsequently he reluctantly told Burgoyne, “Let us save as many as we can.” To further show the Government’s attitude at this time, a Treasury minute that was dated 23rd February 1847 recognised ‘the dreadful state of destitution in the parishes of Schull and Caheragh’ and merely recommended that the local relief committees should do more for that district. The entire Skibbereen district was now fast becoming a byword for famine and, during the week ending 27th March, there were 106 deaths among the 1,170 inmates in the workhouse. The mortality rate in the Skibbereen house was clearly the highest in the country with 106 deaths in a week when there had been only two the previous year. The conditions existing in the poorhouse only reflected the state of the Union in general, and ‘The Skibbereen Soup Committee’ admitted that the farmers, ‘fearful for the condition of their own families were in no position to minister to the wants of others. As spring moved on and the weather grew warmer, fever spread more rapidly and caused fever hospitals or sheds to be set up. Meanwhile, the Soup-Kitchen Act was sufficiently introduced by an inspector named Marshall in May, and the road works were gradually closed. By June, however, the famine and fever were at last under control and, by September, famine mortality in the area was greatly reduced, and the Soup-Kitchen Act phased out. Nevertheless, in Skibbereen workhouse there were 2,981 inmates from a population of the town amounting to only 3,834.

In the Autumn of 1847 the people of Ballydehob feared that the coming winter would be like the previous winter, and they appealed to Lord John Russell for aid. He told them bluntly that, “The owners of property in Ireland should feel the obligations of supporting the poor … It is not just to expect the working classes of Great Britain should permanently support the burden of Irish pauperism.” From such statements it was clear that the government would not give very much more aid, which meant that the rates on Irish property would have to increase. By December 1847 those rates had risen to three shillings for each division and since the landlord had to pay the rates on holdings under £4 it would be in his interest to evict their occupiers if they would not pay the rent. In response a ‘Tenant Protective Society’ was formed in Skibbereen at the end of 1847, and quite quickly remarks were heard about cattle being driven to the pound and their owners to the poor-house. Such poverty being expressed by landowners inevitably put pressure on property, some of it being already heavily encumbered.

An Gorta Mor VIII – Part II

Black ’47 Continues

The Board of Works had started to run out of money, and it was also running out of work that was able to be done by weakened, starving men or women. Despite what Ministers and journalist in England declared, the problem with the relief works was not that people were idle, they were simply incapable of carrying out. The men who organised the work were, in fact, torn between feeling ashamed of the small jobs they were asking people to do, and equally ashamed that they were expecting any work at all from skeletal-framed human beings who hardly had the strength to stand upright. Elsewhere, however, an official had informed Trevelyan that as relief works were no longer of any practical use, it would make more sense, and be cheaper in the long run, to distribute the food freely instead of making people earn money to buy it with. Little or no work was being done anyway, and the average wage of about one shilling per day went nowhere, because the most basic subsistence for a family now cost more than two or three shillings per day. This estimated cost was only for food, and not for clothing or housing. Trevelyan, casting about for ways to avert the looming calamity, began to consider the example that had been given in the west of Ireland by the Quakers and their soup kitchens.

Through all the Famine time, there is nothing more remarkable than the manner in which the expounders of the views of Government, as well as many others, managed, when it suited them, to confound two things which should have been kept most jealously distinct — (1.) What was best for the Famine crisis itself; (2.) What was best for the permanent improvement of the country. The confounding of these two questions led to conclusions of the most unwarrantable and deceptive kind. Some agreed that similar ideas to that of the Government’s had been tried in England, before the Poor-laws were revised, with negative effects. Employers, instead of choosing their own workmen, had them sent to them by the parish authorities, which produced two bad results: (1.) The men did not give a good day’s work (2.) In practice it was found most demoralising to the labourers themselves, destroying their independence, and paralyzing individual enterprise. Lord John agreed but, stated that when applying it to the existing state of Ireland, that such results would only occur if such a system were permanent. He insisted that the demoralisation of labour would not, in this case, be greater than that already in existence on the Public Works. He added that it wouldn’t be even near so great as what expected from his proposal that the people should be fed without any labour, or labour test whatever.

That the Poor Law was becoming an administration in crisis was indicated by the rise in excess mortality within the workhouses that had been erected under that law. Unfortunately, the workhouses by their very nature became inextricably involved in the Famine crisis that spread like wildfire across the country. Workhouses all over Ireland were overflowing and the death rate among the inmates rose drastically. Standards of care, which were already at a very low level, now began to collapse completely. The food being provided was often foul and rotten, but the slightest hope of food of any kind was enough to bring crowds to the gates of each workhouse, begging admission. As famine conditions intensified one board of Guardians after another had reluctantly ceased to use potatoes, replacing them with cereal foods, and many workhouses served Indian meal mixed with oatmeal and water to make into stir-about. Worse still, by this stage, fewer than 115,000 inmates could be accommodated in the workhouses, and the sick and the healthy were being thrown together in overcrowded conditions. It was no surprise that the poor despised the workhouse system and many of them waited until they were near death before they went to the workhouse. Entering only in the hope of receiving a proper burial.

On past evidence, nothing done to counteract the Famine was to be regarded as a permanent arrangement that would fulfil the needs and ordinary wants of the country. On the contrary, the extraordinary means adopted to meet an extraordinary crisis would normally, from the nature of things, pass away with when the crisis was over. It was expected that when the Famine was finally over in Ireland, the labour force would soon return to their ordinary tasks. But, prospects for a good harvest that might end the famine was not being reported by local sources. A newspaper correspondent, Michael Doheny, reported –  “I have, during the last few weeks, been through several districts of the country, chiefly in the counties of Tyrone, Longford, Kildare, Carlow, and Wicklow, and I am happy in being able to inform you of the cheering fact, that the cultivation and cropping of the land have not been so much neglected as was at one period apprehended. In some counties I am satisfied that at least double, perhaps treble, the usual quantity of oats has been sown, and the land has been in excellent order for the reception of the seed. The weather has also been most propitious for spring operations. The young wheats, generally speaking, appear healthy and vigorous.

“It is gratifying that a very large breadth of land, especially in the midland counties, is in course of preparation for turnips; and in all parts of the country this and other green crops are now, happily, becoming more generally esteemed and more extensively cultivated than they have hitherto been.

“Parsnips and Swedish turnips are also this year sown in parts of the western counties where they would probably remain unknown for years hence had the potato not failed. But a much greater extent of land is being with that now uncertain crop than could have been expected, considering the awful and general distress which has arisen in the country. In consequence of the mass of the people depending almost exclusively on it as an article of food. It really is astonishing what quantities of sound potatoes have recently been exposed for sale in most of our markets. Their reappearance at present in such large quantity is by no means creditable to our farmers, who, of course, held them over for real famine prices; and they are now obliged to dispose of them for much less than they might have obtained some time ago.”

In February 1847 the ‘Temporary Relief Act’ was rushed through parliament, providing for the establishment of soup kitchens throughout the country to replace the public works. Neither money nor wages were demanded in return for the food, making the relief provided under this act the most liberal available at any period during the Famine. This was immediately reflected in the take-up of relief. In fact, at its maximum, over three million people were receiving rations from the soup kitchens established throughout the country. Importantly, the three categories who were eligible for free relief were, destitute helpless persons, destitute able-bodied persons not holding land, and destitute able-bodied persons holding small portions of land. Wage earners could also purchase the soup rations but, not at less than cost price.

There were, however, two features of this Act that were particularly significant. Firstly, the Act was established as an interim measure until permanent changes could be made to the Poor Law; Secondly, although the money allocated for the soup kitchens appeared to be very liberal, it was written into the Act that approximately half of the amount expended would have had to be repaid out of the local Poor Rates.

Once the Act had passed through Parliament, no time was wasted in setting up a new Relief Commission in Dublin, which would administer the proposed soup kitchen system that had been planned. At the same time, a small finance committee was established in each of the 130 Poor Law Union districts spread throughout Ireland. There were also district relief committees, whose areas of responsibility covered the electoral divisions of the Poor Law administration. The locality chosen for the setting up the soup kitchens/shops was entirely dependent on local effort and initiative, with some remote areas never being reached at all. As a result, it took quite a long time to get this new system up and running and, all the while, the public relief works began closing. In some areas, however, the relief committees, while taking their time establishing the new system of food distribution, kept the relief works going for as long as possible. They also felt that the soup kitchens would be considered degrading by many of the poor, because they would have to queue in public to be fed and would be made to feel that they were receiving ‘Charity’.

The new commissioners insisted that from 20th March 1847 the numbers on the relief works were to be cut by 20%, with a further 10% in April. By the last week of June, all but 4% of the relief workers had been let go. In effect, this meant that 209,000 labourers now had no work, and no income, but the free food distribution was still not in place everywhere and almost 15% of those who were let go from the road works were still not being reached by the soup kitchens.

Not everyone was enamoured about the establishment and workings of the new Relief Committee. One journalist commented in ‘The Nation’ Newspaper: “… It must be admitted that the twenty per cent, were dismissed before the committee had any preparations made, or were in fact appointed. The old committee had emphatically protested against the dismissal, and published a resolution condemnatory of it, as an inexcusable and cruel enormity. The Government inspector demanded that they should hand over the funds at their disposal to their successors, to be applied by them in aid of the rates. This was refused, on the grounds that these funds were subscribed for a different purpose, which, as already explained, was attended with the most beneficial results, and an altercation ensued, with the details of which it would be preposterous to burthen the pages of THE NATION.

“I shall have to return to the operations of the new committee. Here it is more important to remark that although twenty per cent of the labouring population were turned adrift to starve, not one supernumeray was dissemployed. No pay-clerk lost his salary, though his labour was diminished by one-fourth; no check clerk was dismissed, though there were far fewer to check; no steward, or under-steward, or favourite, was displaced.

“… Not alone have all the old appointees been continued while the people are discharged, but new ones have been added. There is an inspector of pay-clerks, at a large salary, and he has a clerk, who may be styled the inspector’s inspector.

“There is, again, the relief district inspector, of whom I have already spoken, and his inspector; and there is the secretary of the famine committee, and the secretary of the new relief committee, with two assistant-secretaries.”

As the intensity of the famine increased various philanthropic groups set up soup kitchens in various places. These were usually open six days a week and provided two distributions of soup daily. The Government took notice of the obvious success of the ‘Society of Friends’ (Quakers) soup kitchens, which eventually caused the government to reluctantly change its policy.

As we have seen, the public work schemes had failed, and the workhouses became grossly over-crowded. It was vital, therefore, that another temporary operation was set up to supply food directly to the starving without cost or the imposition of a ‘work test’. The main aim of the ‘Act for the Temporary Relief of Destitute Persons in Ireland’ was simply to establish temporary feeding facilities instead of relief works. Reluctantly the government now recognised that a network of soup kitchens would feed the starving more cheaply than public works projects. But, it was only to be a temporary measure, lasting until September, when it was hoped the new harvest would relieve the situation a bit. At that time the second part of the act would then come into force, which was the beginning of the Outdoor Relief System.

This Outdoor Relief System in simple terms meant, making help available to people through the ‘Poor Law’ system, but without making them enter the despised workhouse. To many this was an obvious step for the government to take, as it became obvious that there was just no room left in the workhouses, and, indeed, by now large numbers of people were too weak to travel towards them. Under the terms of the Act the destitute poor could now stay in their own homes and collect food. But, establishing a soup kitchen, staffing it and supervising the cooking of the soup entailed more effort than some unions were prepared to take and many places were left without this life-saving option.

The soup kitchen system, when it finally got under way, worked reasonably well, although there were several abuses. At the local level, the soup kitchens were under the control of the Poor Law Unions, and a District Relief Committee was responsible at the smaller unit of the electoral division. But, in some areas of need, far more people were listed as being in need of food than had actually ever lived there and, as a result, those areas got a disproportionate amount of food. Another abuse of the system involved some of the food being given to working farm labourers, because their employers pretended to dismiss them so they could claim it, while they continued privately employ them.

Under the terms of the Act the food aid, was of course, strictly supposed to go only to the infirm, the destitute unemployed, and destitute landholders. To ensure this there was a long list of rules and regulations drawn up. In the first instance, those applying for relief were classed into four categories – (i) the destitute, helpless and impotent; (ii) destitute, able-bodied though not holding land; (iii) destitute, able-bodied and holders of small tracts of land; (iv) earners of a very small wage. Finally, with only the destitute to be fed free, those earning wages which were insufficient to purchase food at market prices could receive relief at low cost. Children aged nine years and under, meanwhile, were given half rations.

Some officials would feel free to break the rules for good reasons. They realised that no matter how poor and desperate a person was, they would prefer to avoid claiming food aid because of the shame they felt having to stand in line. Another of the rules said that all able-bodied members of a family had to come to the soup kitchen before any of them could be fed, but in practice the local committees were often satisfied if just one member of each family came and collected the food for all.

The regulations that specified the permitted food rations varied from place to place, while what actually constituted soup also became a matter for debate. But, in a majority of places, the soup that was given out was called ‘Stirabout’, which was a mixture of two-thirds Indian meal and one-third rice or oatmeal, cooked with water. It was also about this time when one of the most well-established legends of the Great Famine began to spread. “Souperism”, was allegedly a tactic that ensured people were only given the soup if they gave up their Catholic faith and became Protestant. This practice, however, was not widespread and only appears to have applied to privately-run soup kitchens that had been established by over-enthusiastic Protestants. The number of incidents were very few, and there were very few of these soup kitchens, the majority being found mainly in Connemara and West Kerry. It was alleged that these Protestant zealots would serve meat soup on Fridays (when Catholics were forbidden to eat meat) or would refuse to give out soup unless people came to a Protestant church or bible class. Starvation, of course, persuaded some of the people to pretend that they would give up their long-held Catholic faith, but such ‘conversions’ did not last very long.

Meanwhile, Trevelyan was becoming increasingly hopeful that the British Government could now begin to move away from having to provide famine relief in Ireland. If the new system worked, it could be run entirely by Ireland, from Irish resources. But, it was obvious that he did not seem to have any idea of how poor Irish resources were, or how difficult it was to collect any money, or how great was the load of debt that each Poor Law Union was already carrying.

In fact, the main problem with the Poor Rate was that it was very localised. Each locality zealously dealt only with the problems of its own area, and for those poorer areas of the country it was almost impossible to produce any meaningful amounts of money at all. Those areas, which were considered wealthier and would still have had some money available, were strongly against using ‘their’ money to help the less fortunate Unions that found themselves in difficulties.

The relief committees worked miracles day after day under the circumstances that prevailed. They had to cope with scenes of intense distress and misery as they were met every morning by crowds of thousands of people, who were just those that had strength to walk. Men and women dropped dead where they stood, and they fought and shrieked to get near the head of the line, where the stronger would snatch the food from the weaker. Even the Quakers, who were among the most hard-working of the soup kitchen organisers, were now beginning to feel overwhelmed by events. It appeared to all that no matter how much anyone did, they were only scratching the surface of the need which existed.

Something else was required and, after much discussion, it was decided that some changes in the Poor Law Act were required. Whatever changes the Government needed would have to be major changes, since it was obvious that simple tinkering with the existing system was going to be of no use. The fact was that there were not enough financial resources in Ireland, by itself, to deal with the unimaginable scale of misery and distress which had now been reached. The new Poor Act, or Extension Act, would introduce the name of Mr. William Henry Gregory, who was a member of Parliament for the City of Dublin, and afterwards for the County of Galway. He would remain forever associated with this measure, because of two clauses which he had succeeded in having incorporated within it.

The first of these clauses was that any tenant, rated at a net value not exceeding £5, and who would give up to his landlord, the possession of his land, should be assisted to emigrate by the Guardians of his Union. At the same time, the landlord was to forego any claim for rent, and to provide two-thirds of such a fair and reasonable sum as might be necessary for the emigration of the tenant and his family. The Guardians were empowered to pay to the emigrating family, any sum that did not exceed half the amount that the landlord should give, with the same to be levied off the rates. This clause was proposed and carried in the interest of the landlord clearing system, yet it was agreed to without what could be called even a show of opposition.

The second clause, known as ‘the quarter-acre clause’, was to bring Mr. Gregory enduring fame, as an Irish legislator. It stated: “And be it further enacted, that no person who shall be in the occupation, whether under lease or agreement, or as tenant at will, or from year to year, or in any other manner whatever, of any land of greater extent than the quarter of a statute acre, shall be deemed and taken to be a destitute poor person under the provisions of this Act, or of any former Act of Parliament. Nor shall it be lawful for any Board of Guardians to grant any relief whatever, in or out of the Workhouse, to any such occupier, his wife or children. And if any person, having been such occupier as aforesaid, shall apply to any Board of Guardians for relief as a destitute poor person, it shall not be lawful for such Guardians to grant such relief, until they shall be satisfied that such person has, bona fide, and without collusion, absolutely parted with and surrendered any right or title which he may have had to the occupation of any land over and above such extent as aforesaid, of one quarter of a statute acre.”

Through this carefully prepared clause, the head of a family who happened to hold a single foot of ground measuring over one rood, was put outside the relief guidelines, along with his whole family. It was the perfect means for the slaughter and expatriation of an entire people. The previous clause offered facilities for emigrating to those who would give up their land, while ‘the quarter acre clause’ compelled them to give it up or die of hunger. Mr. Gregory had, he told the House, originally intended to insert “half an acre” in the clause, but he was over-ruled. He had, he said, recently been in Ireland, and people there who had more knowledge of the subject than he, told him that half an acre was too extensive and so he made it a quarter of an acre. The clause was singularly designed to help the landlords to clear the paupers off their estates for good. There is no doubt, therefore, that it was the landlords who insisted on this clause being included, because the government had not looked for it.

In summer of 1847, whilst soup kitchen relief was at its peak, the government was steering through parliament major changes to the Poor Law. The ensuing debate in parliament had dominated British political life during the early part of 1847, moving the Irish Famine to the centre stage of parliamentary issues. The great determination shown by the Whig Party to end Irish dependence on British resources was undoubtedly influenced by the approach of a general election in that summer of 1847. But, the Government’s decision to make the Poor Law responsible for the provision of all relief after August 1847, and the corresponding transfer of the fiscal burden from central to local resources was viewed with alarm by many Irish landlords. The Poor Law, with its dependence on local taxation, was seen as an effective means of penalising landlords who were absentee or had allowed their estates to become sub-divided.

At the same time, to facilitate the extended role of the Poor Law, outdoor relief was permitted. It was, however, subject to various controls and could only be provided with the prior consent of the Poor Law Commissioners. All of this meant that entitlement to relief was to be more restricted than it had been in the previous two years. But, of equal importance, this new legislation also extended the powers of the central commissioners, and provided them with the authority to dismiss recalcitrant boards of guardians.

Elsewhere, controversy surrounded whether the soup kitchens should supply cooked or uncooked food for several reasons. Firstly, the opportunities for fraud were great. Secondly, recipients all too often sold their uncooked rations to purchase tea, tobacco or alcohol. Thirdly, the Central Board of Health provided practical grounds for issuing cooked food. It pointed out that, through ignorance or lack of fuel, paupers tried to eat raw Indian meal and then suffered intestinal disorders. Fourthly, experience had shown that only the destitute applied for cooked food rations, and so cooking was an effective way of keeping costs down. Moreover, if the soup kitchens gave out cooked food only, it could not be hoarded or sold on, and so this now became the rule. At first people were very reluctant to take cooked food, no matter how hungry they were. It was seen by some as being shameful to have to stand in line, carrying a pot or a bowl, to wait for your number to be called. In a very short time the only food aid available to the hungry people was in cooked form. Despite this fact, the widespread sense of humiliation felt by the majority of the destitute meant that fewer people claimed the aid available to them. These people were willing to starve to death rather than sacrifice their pride. All these things meant that more savings were made with the new relief system.

Close your eyes now and try to imagine crowds of literally thousands of men and women who, with increasingly fewer children and old people, thronged around the workhouse gates and the soup kitchens. Many of these poor people were so weak from hunger that they fainted when they got some food in their stomachs. Others, however, failed to reach any place where they could be helped. Numerous dead bodies were found on the roads, in the ditches, and under the trees. Their friends had no strength to bury them, and, in all honesty, no longer cared to do so. They were more concerned for their own survival.

The Famine Potato

Almost every article and book about the Great Irish Famine reminds us how poor the Irish peasantry was in mid-nineteenth century Ireland, and yet they were fit and well enough to undertake the most arduous of labouring tasks. Historians have suggested that it was the reliance of the Irish peasantry on the potato that was the main reason behind their sturdy health, because the potato was filled with both calories Potato Feedand proteins. Under modern nutritional analysis the potato has maintained its place as a health supporting vegetable, although they are usually eaten with other foods and vegetables. Some accounts of famine times suggest that the potato was the sole item that the Peasantry ate. Other accounts suggest that the potato was occasionally accompanied by a bit of fish or mixed with milk. Whatever was the case, the potato was the only cheap food that was capable of sustaining life when it was the only item on the diet. Therefore, if we wish to assess the calorie intake of the average Irish peasant prior to the Famine, we must first know the acreage planted with potatoes and the average yield per acre. But, to complete the calculation we must know the quality of the variety planted.

These days there are so many more varieties of potato in existence than was the case in pre-famine Ireland. During the first decade of the nineteenth century there are accounts recorded that state Irish potatoes – “are pleasant, mealy, and nourishing when compared to the ‘watery and ill-flavoured’ varieties that were prevalent in England. Potato quality declined in Ireland thereafter, however, and on the eve of the Famine the very poor were often forced to rely almost exclusively on inferior varieties, notably the ‘Lumper’.

Blight 2The ‘Irish Lumper’ is a varietal white potato, which has been identified by historians as the variety of potato whose widespread cultivation throughout Ireland, prior to the 1840s, is most closely linked to ‘An Gorta Mor’. It has earned its poor reputation from the Great Irish Famine in which an estimated 1 million died of starvation and disease. This reputation was due to the lack of ability to withstand blight and tells us nothing about the quality of the variety, which was unknown until revived in recent years.

The ‘Irish Lumper’ was well known for its ability to flourish on raised beds in the garden that are poor in nutrients, wet underfoot, or both. By 1832 the ‘Lumper’ had flourished to become the prevalent variety of potato grown in Ireland, causing an anti-tithes campaigner to complain bitterly – “our only food being lumpers and what the ministers would not eat’. A little later another commentator reported, from a visit to Waterford, that – ‘when men or women are employed, at six-pence a day and their board, to dig Minions or Apple-potatoes, they are not suffered to taste them, but are sent to another field to dig Lumpers to eat’. Although recognised by agricultural experts as a very old variety potato, some had no hesitation in recommending it as stock feed because of its enormous yield per acre. Landlords, because the ‘Lumper’ was recommended for feeding their animals thought it was suitable as food for the poverty-stricken peasants on their lands. It was this in mind that the potato variety was grown to adapt to the climactic conditions of Ireland, particularly the western region.

The ‘Irish Lumper’ was described as being – “wet, nasty, knobbly old potato.” Its texture upon boiling was said to be more “waxy” than “floury”, which indicates that they possess a starch content that is lower than that typical for white potatoes. The starch content in any crop of potatoes is quite variable and climate, pests, soil and agricultural practices all play a role. The impoverished peasantry would have much preferred to eat the more premium varieties of potatoes, but their lack of money to purchase those varieties ensured that they would have to depend on the tasteless, watery and ungainly ‘Lumper’.

The ‘Irish Lumper’ was hailed by many for its nutritional value when it was first introduced into Ireland in the early 19th century. As a result, it quickly became popular among impoverished tenants in Munster and Connacht because of the ease with which it flourished in the poorest of soil. However, we should know how the ‘Lumper’ compared with the premium varieties of the time, and even how it would compare to the modern varieties. When compared with contemporary varieties, the ‘Lumper’s’ weight-loss from cooking was reported, in 1840, to be two ounces in every sixteen, which was much greater. From this we can estimate a labourer’s daily intake of potatoes before the Famine, said to be between 10 and 14 lbs, was reduced by the time it was eaten. In tests held by ‘The Royal Dublin Society’ in the 1830s the actual weight, or specific gravity, of the prevalent potato varieties found that the ‘Lumper’ was the lowest at 1.084. It is accepted that the higher the specific gravity the ‘better’ the potato, since potatoes with a specific gravity of one would float in water. A standard conversion produces dry matter estimates of 28 and 24 per cent for the premium variety of potatoes, and only 21 per cent for the ‘Lumper’. On average, starch content makes up about 80 per cent of the dry matter content, and from these statistics the ‘Lumper’s’ lowly status is evident.

Blight 4It appears that the ‘Lumper’ was first introduced into Ireland from Scotland in the end of the eighteenth century. Before that time there were dozens of potato varieties cultivated, so many in fact that it was claimed that each county had its own favourite variety. But, because of its higher yields, the ‘Lumper’ spread rapidly. Its adaptability to poor soils, and its reliability were the main attractions to growers. By the 1840s, the variety had made big inroads in the country and the common belief that the Irish peasantry relied almost exclusively on potatoes at this time suggests the ‘Lumper’ was the variety involved.    

Witness records of this time mention potatoes as the main item in the diet, and quite a few witnesses were more specific about the poor quality of potato that was consumed in their particular area. There is at least one reference to ‘that most unhealthy of vegetables, the lumper potato’, while others include in their statements ‘a bad description of potato called lumper’. Such remarks were often regionally concentrated and, moreover, references to ‘some potatoes of the worst description called Connaught lumpers’. This all seems to point to a sharp east-west distribution of the Lumper.

In an exercise conducted by the ‘Irish Folklore Commission’ in 1945-46, there is mention of several varieties of potato in common use before the Famine. Moreover, we must keep in mind that some potato varieties may well have been known by different names in the different counties. Among the many names given are Green Tops, White Rocks, and American Sailors (Kerry), White Tops (Carlow), Skerry Blues, Red Scotch Downs or Peelers, and White Scotch Downs (Westmeath), Thistlewhippers and Pink Eyes (Cavan), Prodestans (Mayo), Weavers (Down), Leathers and Mingens (i.e. Minions) (Kerry), Cups, Buns, Millers’ Thumbs, and Derry Bucks (Donegal), and Coipíní (Connemara). The Lumper was also mentioned in this exercise, but not often. This evidence would suggest, therefore, that there was a much greater variety than allowed for by the historians.

Although it was claimed that ‘Lumpers suffered more than any other variety (from blight)’ (Anon., 1845), in truth, most pre-Famine potato varieties were blight susceptible, and varieties such as Cups, which were grown by more affluent farmers, never recovered their position post-1847. Meanwhile, the ‘Lumper’ has become doubly notorious in our history as a poor food item in the decades leading up to the Great Famine, and for offering such poor resistance to phytophthora infestans (the blight). And yet, although the ‘Lumper’ was definitely dull fare, it did provide sufficient calories to sustain the peasantry before 1845. The ‘Lumper’ will always be linked to the Great Hunger because of the dominance it had gained in Ireland by the 1840s. But, we should also remember that all the other varieties that were commonly sown at the time also succumbed to the blight. Despite what many think, ‘Phytophthora infestans’ did not disappear after the Irish potato famine in 1840s. It continues to devastate potatoes and tomatoes throughout our world, causing billions of pounds annually in losses and control costs. The ‘Lumper’, meanwhile, has not been commercially cultivated for a long time, although it was still grown in some districts in the 1920s. For the curious there are specimens that survive in a few ‘museum’ collections in Ireland and Scotland. The Scottish Agriculture and Fishery Department’s scientific services in Edinburgh has a rich collection of such varieties.

Around the year 2008 a Northern Ireland potato grower and packer, Michael McKillop, became interested in cultivating the ‘Lumper’ once more. He managed to get some heirloom seeds and set about his task, growing the new ‘Lumpers’ smaller than those of the 1800s. The new ‘Lumpers’ that I have sampled did not taste too bad at all, better in fact than what I had expected. They had a decent flavour to them and a texture that felt a little waxy. With both elements again in play will we have a repeat of the Famine – “And as the report got abroad that the blight had struck again, so did the stench confirming the report. It was a sulphurous, sewer-like smell carried by the wind from the rotting plants in the first-struck places. Farmers who had gone to bed imbued with the image of their lush potato gardens were awakened by this awful smell and by dogs howling their disapproval of it.” (‘Paddy’s Lament, Ireland 1846-1847, prelude to hatred by Thomas Gallagher, 1988, Poolbeg Press Ltd., Ireland.)

Blight  

Charles Trevelyan – Sinner or Saint?

When trying to unravel the role that Charles Trevelyan played in the ‘Great Famine’ you are entering something of a minefield. Any person who has attempted to learn about ‘The Famine in Ireland’ quickly realised that the research that has been carried out is filled with invective supporting opposing views on its cause, effects and results. The student soon discovers that Irish history-writing is more subjective than objective and requires reading ‘between the lines’ to get to the truth. We read opinions such as that spoken openly by the Nationalist politician, John Mitchel, when he stated his verdict that, “God sent the blight but the British Government sent the Famine.” Against such opinions we have the more recent ‘revisionist’ opinions that attempt to sanitise the ‘Great Hunger’ by arguing that, given the scale of the disaster, the British Government had done everything it could to prevent further death and suffering among the poverty stricken Irish peasantry.

Charles_Edward_TrevelyanThere exists an increasing number of modern ‘historians’ who wish to ‘revise’ the long-accepted view of Sir Charles Trevelyan, who was the permanent head of the Treasury during the Famine. The ‘revisionists’ suggest that what has been written about this man is simply the result of the ‘half-truth, innuendo and careless repetition’ by pro-Nationalist commentators that has found its way into the records of this terrible period in Irish history.  These modern revisionists seek to undermine the prevalent view that Trevelyan was a dictatorial civil servant, who held undue influence over government policy in handling the Famine. From his own words and deeds we can see that he is a devout disciple to those doctrines of classical political economy, especially ‘leaving well alone’ or ‘laissez-faire’. He was filled with a staunch racial prejudice against the Irish, and a providential view of the Famine being an ‘act of God’ against Irish Roman Catholicism. Trevelyan was convinced that the way that these things came together prevented him from doing anything that would stop the Famine from ‘running its course’. But, the revisionists insist that there is no defensible reason to condemn this man for the inadequate, criminal government response to the humanitarian crisis that was unfolding in Ireland.

There is little argument that Trevelyan was an important government figure during the Famine. The arguments arise when there is discussion concerning Trevelyan’s importance when compared to that other major protagonists that were involved in Famine relief. The revisionist historians will generally admit that Charles Trevelyan was an influential adviser for his government department, but not the key influence on the British Government’s overall Famine relief policy. They put forward the premise that Trevelyan, although an influential adviser, was simply carrying out the wishes of his departmental chiefs during the Famine, who received instructions from the cabinet. In other words, Trevelyan was simply a centrally placed civil servant who was unfortunate to become a ‘scapegoat’ for the manoeuvrings and machinations of the British Government and those who were governing Ireland from Dublin Castle. It is further claimed that Trevelyan’s bad reputation was a result of criticisms that were aimed at his political superiors, rather than him. The revisionist historians assert that these criticisms, therefore, have been taken out of context and are not reflective of Trevelyan’s character in any way. Against such a viewpoint we have the following description of the man by the well-respected historian of the Famine, Cecil Woodham-Smith – “his mind was powerful, his character admirably scrupulous and upright, his devotion to duty praiseworthy, but he had a remarkable insensitiveness. Since he took action only after conscientiously satisfying himself what he proposed to do was ethical and justified he went forward impervious to other considerations, sustained but also blinded by his conviction of doing right.” The question remains that did he believe he was doing right when, during the height of the famine, Trevelyan deliberately dragged his feet in disbursing direct government food and monetary aid to the Irish because of the strength of his belief in ‘laissez-faire’ economics and the free hand of the market. In a letter to an Irish Peer, Lord Monteagle, a former Chancellor of the Exchequer, Trevelyan described the Famine as being an “effective mechanism for reducing surplus population.” He determined that it was “the judgement of God,” and wrote that “The real evil with which we have to contend is not the physical evil of the Famine, but the moral evil of the selfish, perverse and turbulent character of the people”. From his own words, he condemns himself.

An Gorta Mor 2In 1840 Trevelyan was appointed as assistant secretary to the Treasury, and served in this capacity until 1859, which covered both the Irish Potato Famine and the Highland Potato Famine in Scotland of 1846–1857. In Ireland, he administered famine relief while, in Scotland, Trevelyan was closely associated with the work of the ‘Central Board for Highland Relief.’ There is little doubt concerning Trevelyan’s devotion to his job, or the difficulty his position placed him in. He acted as liaison between Westminster and Dublin Castle, which proved not to be among the happiest of relationships. Trevelyan was also assigned to arbitrate disputes within the Irish executive, and the various committees, boards and commissions which were established in response to the outbreak of the Famine. However, his lack of action and his personal negative attitude towards the Irish people are widely believed to have been responsible for slow introduction of relief efforts during the Famine. When local committees wanted to open the food stores to the people, for example, Trevelyan decided against such a measure, writing, “Our measures must proceed with as little disturbance as possible of the ordinary course of private trade, which must ever be the chief resource for the subsistence of the people, but, at any cost, the people must not, under any circumstances, be allowed to starve.” Meanwhile, the starving Irish watched with growing resentment as boatloads of homegrown grains and cereals left regularly from Irish ports to England. Anger led to food riots erupting in many ports as the hungry tried unsuccessfully to confiscate the food that was being removed. During one incident in Dungarvan, a small port in County Waterford, armed British troops were pelted with stones and they shot into the crowd in retaliation. This resulted in at least two people being killed and several others being wounded.

In answer to those who wonder why Trevelyan was considered for such an important post. But, he had already enjoyed a distinguished career in India before the Famine, having been involved in schemes aimed at gaining economic improvement. At the same time, he had expounded very forthright views on educating the native Indian population along English lines. Because of his work in India, Trevelyan was convinced that he was qualified to handle any problems that related to land tenure and the consolidation of smallholdings in Ireland. He seems to have failed to recognise that in India he had presided over an area where smallholdings had been peacefully well established for many decades, which was not the case in Ireland. Furthermore, Trevelyan ignored the fact that India in the mid-nineteenth century was much different from Ireland in the same period, particularly when it came to the problems of widespread poverty and famine. Poverty and famine-stricken Ireland was a country that was supposed to be an integral part of the United Kingdom and expected to be treated as such. At the same time, Ireland resembled India only in its resistance to having English standards of improvement and development being imposed on them.

Irish Famine 2It was undoubtedly the ideological forces that Trevelyan gave voice to that constrained the British government’s intervention in the Irish economy during the crisis. There was the influence of classical political economy, the prejudiced views of the Irish people, and the influence of evangelical Providential beliefs that influenced the government’s policy toward Famine relief. That policy included limited state intervention in Ireland and favouring the alternative and less effective demand of ‘local responsibility’ for the relief schemes introduced. It was this policy that brought about a government amendment to the ‘Irish Poor Law’ in late 1847, which shifted the burden of relief from the central government to the local ratepayers in Ireland. It was Trevelyan’s firmly held belief that Ireland needed to heal itself from within, without any substantial aid from the British Government. Using his position within the government and his influence with the English ruling aristocracy it was quite easy for Trevelyan to persuade the Irish landowners to believe that “the government establishments are strained to the utmost to alleviate this great calamity and avert this danger.” He praised the government efforts and denounced the Irish gentry, blaming them for the famine. Trevelyan explained his belief that it was not the government’s responsibility to provide supplies of food or increase land productivity, but the responsibility of the landlords’. The influential English press agreed with his views and blamed the Irish gentry for not demanding that their tenants improve their land and plant crops other than the potato. Trevelyan identified the Irish gentry as being the “defective part of the national character” and he chastised them for expecting the government to fix everything, “as if they have themselves no part to perform in this great crisis.” He knew exactly how the Irish gentry was viewed by their own people, as well as the English, and by placing the blame for the famine upon them, Trevelyan justified the ineptness of the British Government’s response.

Trevelyan was simply a man driven by ideas, which influenced him in formulating policy. These same strongly held ideas caused him to justify those policies even when the terrible scale of the suffering became clear. Even if we accept the revisionist theory that Trevelyan was not as influential as we believe, they must admit that neither he nor the cabinet ministers under whom he served were immune to the influence of ideas. But, one characteristic of the man, which revisionists cannot deny, is that he was an arch-racist and although his racial venom was directed chiefly against the Irish landholders, he did not ignore the Irish Catholic tenants and smallholders. Trevelyan voiced his opinions that the Irish were a lazy, dirty and unimaginative race, which reflected the general belief of Victorian society about the Irish people

Whereas Trevelyan’s role may have been exaggerated, and that he was much more at the command of his political superiors, it cannot be denied that he prided himself on being a ‘moralist’. He was an enthusiastic reformer whose ideas and convictions allowed him to justify the government’s Famine policy as a God-given opportunity for the British government to regenerate Irish economic and social life to the benefit of England.

Irish Famine

An Gorta Mor  Part II

The Irish Spud

The introduction of the potato into Ireland has been rumoured to have begun in 1586, with Sir Walter Raleigh. However,the crop does not seem to have been in anything like widespread cultivation one hundred and forty years later. In fact, less than a century before the onset of the ‘Great Famine’, the potato was introduced into this island by the landed gentry. Although there was only one variety of potato, namely the ‘Irish Lumper’, it soon became the staple food of the poor, particularly in the cold months of winter.

In a pamphlet printed in 1723 it states, We have always either a glut or a dearth; very often there are not ten days distance between the extremity of the one and the other; such a want of policy is there (in Dublin especially) on the most important affair of bread, without plenty of which the poor must starve.” This is almost one hundred and forty years after the introduction of the potato and, if potatoes were at this time considered an important food crop, the author would not have omitted this fact, especially when speaking of the food that the poor ate.

Later, in the same pamphlet, the author exposes and denounces the corruptions of landowners and the arrangements under which their tenant farmers occupied farmland. When commenting on landowners who farmed tithes, the author states, Therefore an Act of Parliament to ascertain the tithe of hops, now in the infancy of their great growing improvement, flax, hemp, turnip-fields, grass-seeds, and dyeing roots or herbs, of all mines, coals, minerals, commons to be taken in, etc., seems necessary towards the encouragement of them.” Again there is no mention of the potato.

But, the next year, 1724, the author of the pamphlet was confronted by an anonymous Member of Parliament, who mentions potatoes twice in his response. He says, “Formerly (even since Popery) it was thought no ill policy to be well with the parson, but now the case is quite altered, for if he gives him [sic] the least provocation, I’ll immediately stock one part of my land with bullocks and the other with potatoes … so farewell tithes.”

Irish Famine 3It appears that the fact of potatoes not being titheable at this time, encouraged their widespread cultivation in the land. In the next passage of his response the M.P. goes on to show that the potato was quickly becoming the food of those who could afford no better, the poor. Tackling the problem of high rents, and what he calls “canting of land” (leasing to the highest bidder) by landlords, he says: “Again, I saw the same farm, at the expiration of the lease, canted over the improving tenant’s head, and set to another at a rack-rent, who, though coming in to the fine improvements of his predecessor, (and himself no bad improver,) yet can scarce afford his family butter to their potatoes, and is daily sinking into arrears besides.”

It is evident from his tone this particular writer seems to regard the potato as being food that was to be used only by the very poorest people. He points out clearly the condition to which ‘rack-renting’ can bring even an industrious tenant farmer, for although the Irish could rent farms they became “tenants at will”, they had no security of tenure. They could be (and often were) evicted as soon as their rents fell into arrears, and on many occasions even when there were no arrears owing. The property, including any improvements made by the tenant, would be sold on for a higher rent with the former tenant gaining no compensation for any improvements that were made. After 1780 the policy of rackrenting became very common because of population growth and tenants would sub-let to many others. Such Estates were often poorly managed, with much sub-letting of land and the lack of incentive for tenants to make improvements.

During this time there was a great demand for land, as more and more landowners began to consider reverting from tillage to grazing. There were other causes of the growing oppression against the Irish population. King William III, at the request of Parliament in England, virtually annihilated the once flourishing woollen manufacture of Ireland. The island’s trade with the colonies was almost brought to ruin by the navigation laws that had been recently enacted. Among other things, no colonial produce could come direct to Ireland until it first entered an English port, and had been landed there. While great areas of land in Ireland had been put out of cultivation, and the country was compelled to buy food from abroad, the unjust and selfish destruction of Ireland’s trade and commerce by England left her without the money to do so.

There were suggestions that a local tax on certain ‘luxury’ items might provide enough money to purchase enough foodstuffs for the population to buy. But conditions in Ireland at this time were such that not enough taxes could be raised, especially when the nation was already paying more in taxes than England ever had. Some wondered when such foodstuffs, like corn, did arrive then who could afford to purchase it, certainly not the poor that made up the majority of the population. Thus, the growing of potatoes became a widespread activity among the peasantry.

Potato cultivation was clearly on the increase, but the corn crop was still considered to be the food of the nation. In Ireland, however, the growing of potatoes was on the increase, and this appears to be due in great part to the very real necessity for such a crop. There was not enough land under tillage to give food to the people, because the landowners had it laid down for grazing. Mountains, poor lands, and bogs were unsuitable to graziers, nor would they allow wheat, or oats, or any white crop to grow. The potato, however, was found to succeed very well in such places, and to give a larger quantity of sustenance than such land would otherwise yield. The cultivation of such land was therefore spreading, but this seemed to be chiefly among the poor Celtic Irish peasantry, who were obliged to settle in those wastelands and barren mountains. In the rich lowlands, and therefore amongst the English landowners the potato was still a despised article of food. Any proposal to sustain the Irish peasantry on potatoes and buttermilk until the new corn would come in, was quite ironic. The fact that one was made demonstrates the degradation to which grazing had brought the country. Seventy or eighty years later the irony became a sad and terrible reality.

In the meantime, increased attention was given to the improvement of agricultural methods, which arose because of the widespread panic which the passion for grazing had caused. The more patriotic and socially concerned observers saw that the passion for grazing would have only one result, a dangerous and unwise depopulation of the country. There were many calls made for remedies against just such a terrible calamity to be found. They were worried that the peasantry might just follow their leaders, and seek their futures abroad. It was suggested that where the plough has no work, one family can do the business of fifty, and you may send away the other forty-nine. It was from such worries as this that an anxious desire grew among certain groups to show that agriculture was more profitable than grazing, while others began to lay down better rules for the rotation of crops. Although potatoes must have been extensively grown at this time they get are given no place in any of the rotations. The growth of Turnips and Hops gets special attention in these plans, but the potato is never mentioned. The reason behind this neglect seems to be that their cultivation was chiefly confined to the poor Celtic-Irish Population in the mountainous and neglected areas, which to some were known as “the Popish parts of the kingdom.”

Those who wrote pamphlets in favour of tillage instead of grazing, set great importance on the increase of population, and complained that emigration was the effect of bad harvests and the need for tillage. Of course, one should remember that all such observations made during this period must be taken as referring to the English, or Protestant population of Ireland, exclusively. Indeed, there was no desire to keep the Catholics from emigrating. Quite the contrary, in fact. Such things became more apparents when some religious zealot called for a more strict enforcement of the laws “to prevent the growth of Popery.” There were claims that said an increase in tillage should be encouraged for the benefit of the Protestant population. The Protestant Primate, Boulter, condemned the emigration which resulted from the famine of 1728, which he says was “the result of three bad harvests together.” He added, “the worst is that it affects only the Protestants, and reigns chiefly in the North.” But, the broad rich acres of the lowlands were in the hands of the Protestant landowners and, being specially suited to grazing, were accordingly sowed with grass. Meanwhile, the Catholic Celtic-Irish planted the potato in the despised half-barren wilds, and were increasing in number far more rapidly than those who owned the choicest lands.