Annals of the Famine in Ireland

Each story keeps the passage it was read from. Open one to read the passage as the book has it, and, where the companion has written its own telling, that too.

1. Mass Famine Burials in Cork Workhouse Pits

   Cork · townland · Cork · 1847–1848

   During the famine, hundreds of victims from the Cork workhouse were carried out on 'sliding coffins' and buried in mass pits at Theobald Mathew's cemetery. Ten thousand bodies were reportedly interred there, layered with lime, with rain later exposing parts of corpses.

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   upon " sliding cofGna," and buried in pita. Let the cemetery of Theobald Mathew show its ten thoussnd, which he buried there in huge graves, opening a yawning gulf, and throwing in lime, then adding coffinless bodies daily, till the pit was filled ; then opening another, till ten thousand were numbered ! The rain had washed the loose dirt away in some spots, and parts of the bodies were exposed in a. few places. A painful sight !

   The Cork Committee acted most efficiently, and the name of Abraham Beale has left there a sweet and tasting remembrance. Beside the city of Cork, the rural districts were in the greatest distress, and this benevolent, indefatigable laborer turned his energies unceasingly to those districts, faithfully discharging his duty, till his health failed ; and his biographer states, that " His last act of pubhe duty was the attendance of the Relief Committee, in which he had bo assiduously labored." Typhus fever took him in a few days to the " mansion" which, doubtless, was prepared for him ; for though he said, " I have been but an unprofitable servant," yet the living testify that his profiting appeared unto all. He died in August, 1847, while the scourge was still raging ; and in 1848 his name was fresh on the lips of many in that city, who, with bis two bereaved sisters, say, they have lost in him a friend and a father. " The memory of the just is truly blessed."

   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 18

   As the companion tells it

   Close to Cork, somewhere around here, lie the mass famine burial pits of Theobald Mathew's cemetery. During 1847 and 1848, hundreds of victims from the Cork workhouse were carried out on what the source calls "sliding coffins" and buried in huge open graves. Lime was thrown in, then coffinless bodies added daily until each pit was filled, and then another was opened. Ten thousand bodies were reportedly interred there. The rain later washed the loose dirt away in some spots, and parts of the bodies were exposed. The Cork Committee acted efficiently, and the name of Abraham Beale left what the book calls a sweet remembrance. He turned his energies to the rural districts around Cork, where distress was greatest, labouring faithfully until his health failed. His last public act was attending the Relief Committee. Typhus fever took him in a few days. He died in August 1847 while the scourge still raged, and in 1848 his name was still fresh on the lips of many in the city. His two bereaved sisters said they had lost in him a friend and a father.

2. Starving Old Man Turned Away From Relief Twice

   Ireland · townland · 1847–1848

   An old man walked seven miles carrying a starving, bleeding child seeking relief meal on a bleak coastal road, but was twice turned away by the relief officer for arriving on the wrong day. He revealed his wife had already starved to death and he feared returning to find his other children dead on the hearth.

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   tremulously, " I must go home and die on the hairth with the hungry ones." The mother had starved to death. He was given money to purchase seven pounda of meal ; he clasped his old emaciated hands, first fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven and thanked the good God, then me, when the boy was so struck with Ids glaring eyes, and painful looks, that he turned aside and said, " let us get away." The old man kept on liis knees, walking on them, pausing and looking up to heaven; and thinking myself that seven pounds would not keep four scarcely in existence till Tuesday, Ave stopped till he came upon his knees to the car ; he was given money enough to purchase as much more ; when, for a few moments, I feared that he would die on the path. His age, exhaustion by hunger, and the feelings of a father, together. with the sudden change, from despair to hope, all were so powerful, that with his hands clasped, chnching the pennies, and standing upon liis knees, he fell upon his face, and for some time remained there ; he was finally restored to his knees, and tlie last glimpse we had of this picture of living death, he was behind us on the path, descending a hill upon his knees. What his destiny was, I never knew ; but the relieving-officer expressed no feelings of compunction when told of it some time after, nor did he know whether he had applied again. If he died, what then? was the answer. This solitary case is only a specimen of, to say the least, hundreds, who might have l)cen saved, had these stewards applied the funds where most needed. Those who were obliged to walk miles,

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   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 26

3. The Famine Burying-Ground of Arranmore

   near Aran Island · townland · Donegal

   The author was taken to the burying-ground of Arranmore, a cliffside site where the dead were buried without coffins, piled so thickly that bodies could be seen through the thin covering of loose stones, easily disturbed by dogs. The pilot described carrying the corpse of a boy from his father's back and burying him himself, remarking there had been so many burials he could not cover the grave well.

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   A famine burying-ground on the sea-coast has some peculiarities belonging to itself. First, it often lies on the borders of the sea, without any wall, and the dead are put into the earth without a coffin, so many piles on piles that the top one often can be seen through the thin covering; loose stones are placed over, but the dogs can easily put these aside, and tear away the loose dirt. This burial-place was on a cliff, whose sides were covered with rough stones, and the ascent in some parts very difficult. We ascended, sometimes keeping erect, and sometimes being obliged to stoop and use our hands. When we reached the top, the painful novelty repaid all

   5*

   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 5

4. Tipperary Peasants Choose Death by Bullet Over Starvation

   Tipperary · townland · Tipperary · 1848

   Congregated on a hill in Tipperary during the famine, a group of peasants told the priest urging them to disperse that they would rather be shot by soldiers than endure the slow death of hunger and the seizure of their cattle for taxes.

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   of the famine will be on us, and we shall die with hunger ; the blackguard taxes will take all the cattle, and we took 'em here, plaise your riverence, to ate, and let the soldiers shoot us, and that will be the quick death for us ; better than the long hunger, your riverence — better than the hunger.'' Now> that was certainly, for " barbarians," quite a civilized, if not philosophical answer, and quite in keeping with Irish coolness in difficulty and danger. It was something like a company from a district in the south of Ireland, in the time of the first winter of the famine. They had given up all hope of life, and consulted to go in company to the poorhouse, and die there, that they might be buried in coffins. Such a haggard axray of misery had never been seen before in one body, and the soldiers were ordered to be on the spot at the workhouse to keep all in safety. These despairing creatures paused before the red coats and guns, and implored them to shoot them down, and end their long misery at once. This was no false bravado. They were sincere, and not one among them, it is believed, would have shrunk in the face of that death.

   This rebellion, it should be told, was not that ungrateful affair as has been represented. It was not agitated, or scarcely known, among the thousands who had been charitably fed in the famine. It originated among the higher classes of well-fed politicians, who were too enlightened not to know the causes of their country's sufferings, and too humane to look on with indifference. They were seconded by a lower class of

   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 13

5. Young girl's shallow grave with hair exposed

   Erris · townland · Mayo

   In a parish burying-ground, the author saw the brown silken hair of a young girl waving through a cleft of stones, as there had not been room to bury her properly beneath the surface, so grass and stones were laid over her instead.

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   When I stood in the burying-ground in that parish, I saw the brown silken hair of a young girl, waving gently through a little cleft of stones, that lay loosely upon her young breast. They had not room to put her beneath the surface, but slightly, and a little green grass was pulled and spread over, and then covered with stones. I never shall forget it.

   " The blast of the desert comes, Her loose hair flew on the wind."

   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 8

6. Ass-carried corpses to the grave amid famine

   Erris · townland · Mayo · 1847

   In this desolate parish near Erris, corpses of family members were carried to burial slung across the back of a donkey wrapped only in old blanket remnants, or, for children, balanced in baskets on either side of the animal, with no mourners following but the one guiding the beast.

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   put a board on 'em." We have often seen an ass passing our window carrying a corpse, wound about with some old remnant of a blanket or sheet ; and thus, flung across its back, a father or mother, wife or husband, was carried to the grave. Sometimes, when the corpse was a little child, or it might be more than one, they were put into a couple of baskets, and thus balanced upon the sides of the ass, this melancholy hearse proceeded on without a friend to follow it, but the one who was guiding the beast. These burials tell more of the paralysing effects of famine than anything else can do ; for the Irish in all ages, have been celebrated for their attention to the interment of their dead, sparing no expense.

   When I stood in the burying-ground in that parish, I saw the brown silken hair of a young girl, waving gently through a little cleft of stones, that lay loosely upon her young breast. They had not room to put her beneath the surface, but slightly, and a little green grass was pulled and spread over, and then covered with stones. I never shall forget it.

   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 8

7. Famine Horror on Arranmore Island

   near Aran Island · townland · Donegal · 1847–1849

   The author visited Arranmore island during the famine, finding death-like stillness, starving people crawling on all fours, and dogs unnaturally fat and shining amid the starvation. Five hundred people died of famine on the island, and the population had eaten their livestock before crossing to the mainland for relief.

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   fort had ever reigned. The peasantry here were about 1500 in number, occupying a green spot three miles in length, and had always maintained a good character for morality and industry. They kept cows, which supplied them with milk, sheep with wool, geese with beds, fowls with eggs ; and grew oats, potatoes, and barley ; they wore shoes and stockings, which none of the female peasantry can do in the country places ; they likewise spun and made their own wearing apparel, and as the difficulty of crossing the channel of the sea, which was three miles, was considerable, they seldom visited the main land. When they saw the potatoe was gone, they ate their fowls, sheep, and cows, and then began to cross the sea to Templecrone for relief. What could they find there 7 One man could do but little to stay the desolation. Hundreds had died before this, and though I knew that painful scenes were in waiting, yet, if possible, the half was not told me. Six men, beside Mr. Griffith, crossed with me in an open boat, and we landed, not buoyantly, upon the once pretty island. The first that called my attention was the death-like stillness — ^nothing of life was seen or heard, excepting occasionally a dog. These looked so unlike all others I had seen among the poor I unwittingly said — " How can the dogs look so fat and shining here, where there is no food for the people V " Shall I tell her V said the pilot to Mr. Griffith, not supposing that I heard him.

   This was enough : if anything were wanting to make the horrors of a famine complete, this supplied the

   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 5

8. The Orphan Girl Devoured by Dogs

   Achill Sound · townland · Mayo

   Near the same bog where Sara died, a little orphan girl crept into a hole in the bank and died alone one night with no one to prepare her body or close her eyes. Her corpse was left unheeded until dogs lacerated the body, gnawed the bones, and scattered them about the bog.

   Read the passage

   close her eyes, or wash and fit her for the grave. She died unheeded, the dogs lacerated the body, gnawed the bones, and strewed them about the bog.

   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 6

   As the companion tells it

   Somewhere near Achill Sound, a little orphan girl crept into a hole in the bank and died alone one night. No one was there to close her eyes or wash and fit her for the grave. She died unheeded. The dogs lacerated the body, gnawed the bones, and strewed them about the bog.

9. Coffins Replaced by Straw-Bound Boards in the Famine's Mountain Regions

   Ireland · townland · 1847

   As the famine worsened, coffins became scarce across Ireland, and in mountainous regions and islands the dead were wrapped in the rags they died in, placed between two rough boards, and bound with a straw rope as the only burial provided.

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   unpaid. The landlord growls, but growls in vain : the " lazy dogs/' who are not in the poor-house, drawing enormous rates from his extensive farms, are at his doors, begging bread, or lying dead under his windows, waiting for " the board to be put on 'em," as they called a coffin. Coffins were now becoming scarce, and in the mountainous regions and islands, two rough boards, with the corpse, in the rags which were about it when the breath departed, placed between these, and a straw rope wound about, was the coveted boon which clung to them to the last.

   The winter passed, but the spring brought no fresh hopes ; onward was the fearful march — ^many faces that were ruddy, and limbs that were robust, and hearts that had scarcely had a fear that the wolf would enter their dwelling, now began to fade, stumble, and finally sink under the pursuer. My purse was low, my meal gone, when a letter, the choicest and best, arrived, written by a teacher of a pauper school in New York, and signed by the Corresponding Committee there of the Dublin Friends' Society, transmitting me a few barrels of meal, from the children of that pauper school. This was an offering richer than- all, it was the interest of the widow's mite, coming through the channel of the orphans, whose willing hearts and ready hands had gathered from their scanty comforts a few pounds without solicitation, and begged the privilege to send it to me. It came: I had previously been informed that a school in the poorest convent in Dublin was in a state of the greatest sufiFering. These schools

   Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 4

10. The Death of Sara in the Bog

    Achill Sound · townland · Mayo · 1847

    An elderly starving woman named Sara, nearly a hundred years old, came to the parish near Achill Sound seeking relief and died in a makeshift shelter her husband Abraham built for her in the bog by the strand, wrapped only in heath and turf. Abraham tended her devotedly until her death, then mourned alone through the night beside her coffin.

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    laoAf iriudi Bin. S. proruled for Ua belorcd Sara. He siiid he '* had made her ae comfortable as his owld hands could, but the breath would soon be oowld in her, for she could scarcely lift the hand to raise the broth to the lip." This bed waa made in the bog, within a few yarda of the sea, but sheltered from its spray by a bank, under which a narrow place had been dug by Abraham, which partly covered Sara. Heath was put down for her bed, and pieces of tnrf for her pillow ; a wall of turf a few inches high extended round, making the shape of a bed, against the side of which was a fire of turf, made to warm the broth ; and this was Abraham and Sarahs ho^se. Abraham's part was wholly unsheltered. For days she was nursed in the most careful manner ; her cloak was wrapped snugly about her ; the heath under her was smoothed, and her broth carried by Abraham ; and he even washed her garments in the sea, " for Sara," he said, " loves to be clean." In spite of all his care the life of Sara was fast ebbing ; and Mary A., who had seen before the bed where she lay, called one evening and found her much altered. She raised her up, gave her a little milk, which she could sparcely swallow. " I am departing," she whispered, " and will ye ^ve my blessin' to the mistreaat" She had come into the parish, she said, to die, because " she knew the mistress would put a cofBn on her owld body." While Mary was here, Abraham hastened to Mrs. S. to procure some necessaries for the night ; then return-

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    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 6

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Achill Sound, in the famine year of 1847, an old woman named Sara came into the parish to die. She was nearly a hundred years old and starving. Her husband Abraham built her a shelter in the bog, within a few yards of the sea, dug into a bank that kept off the spray. He laid heath for her bed and turf for her pillow, with a low wall of turf around it and a small turf fire beside it to warm her broth. Abraham's own part was wholly unsheltered. For days he nursed her with great care, smoothing the heath beneath her, carrying her broth, even washing her garments in the sea, because, he said, Sara loves to be clean. Despite all his care her life was fast ebbing. A woman called Mary called one evening and found her much altered, raised her up and gave her a little milk she could scarcely swallow. I am departing, Sara whispered, and will ye give my blessing to the mistress. She had come to this parish, she said, to die, because she knew the mistress would put a coffin on her old body.

11. Mother and infant corpse left beneath ministers' window

    Ireland · townland · 1847

    During a dinner where ministers drank wine and brandy while famine raged, a sixteen-year-old girl placed the bodies of her dead mother and infant beneath the very window where the ministers dined, hoping to shame them into providing a coffin. The ministers sent a few sixpences but otherwise ignored the lesson.

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    npcm die pftnment nod saw a ofopae with « 1 spread over it, lying upon the walk beneath the window. It was a mother and infant, dead, and a daughter of sixteen had broaght and laid her there, hoping to induce the people to put her in a cofGn ; and as if she had been listening to tbe conversation at the dinner (^ the want of coffins, she had placed her mother under the very window and eye, where these wine-bibbing ministers might apply the lesson. All was hushed, the blinds were immediately down, and a few sixpences were quite unostentatiously sent out to the poor girl, as a b^iuning, to procure a coffin. Tbe lesson ended here.

    And I would conclude this episode by saying, that at tbe door of professed Christians of the intelligent class, lies tbo sin of intemperance in that suffering country, and though some of them have preached and labored bard in those dark days, yet they have not done what they could, and in this they should not be commended ; but rebuked most faithfully.

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12. The Widow, the Pot, and the Dog

    Kingstown · townland · Dublin · 1846

    A widow whose husband died of hunger was caught by a magistrate gleaning potatoes in her landlord's field; when he demanded to see what was in her pot, he found she had killed and cooked her dog along with the few potatoes to feed her starving children. A compassionate judge, moved by her plight, gave her three pounds from his own purse.

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    A man had died from hunger, and his widow had gone into the plowed field of her landlord to try to pick a few potatoes in the ridges which might be remaining since the harvest ; she found a few — the landlord saw her — sent a magistrate to the cabin, who found three children in a state of starvation, and nothing in the cabin but the pot, which was over the fire. He demanded of her to show him the potatoes — ^she hesitated ; he inquired what she had in the pot — she was. silent ; he looked in, and saw a dog, with the handful of potatoes she had gathered from the field. The sight of the wretched cabin, and still more, the despairing looks of the poor silent mother and the famished children, crouched in fear in a dark comer, so touched the heart of the magistrate, that he took the pot from the fire, bade the woman to follow him, and they went to the court-room together. He presented the pot, containing the dog and the handful of potatoes, to the astonished judge. He called the woman — interrogated her kindly. She told him they sat in their desolate cabin two entire days, without eating, before she killed the half -famished dog; that she did not think she was stealing, to glean after the harvest was gathered. The judge gave her three pounds from his own purse ; told her when she had used that to come again to him.

    This was a compassionate judge, — and would to God Ireland could boast of many such.

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13. The Woman Who Waited to Die in Dublin

    Cook Street · townland · Dublin · 1847

    A respectably clean woman in Dublin exhausted her last farthing for food and sought help from a Relief Officer, who promised to call but never came. She waited patiently through days without food, resigned to death rather than seek help elsewhere.

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    should go out he would call, and then she should lose her oppprtunity ; that night she went to her bed without the least relief; the next day she did the same ; the third morning I found her in that state of patient suffering, with her mind fully made up to die, without making any further effort.

    These facts are recorded to show the incomprehensible features of that famine; and to inquire of the Christian, the philosopher, and the physiologist, what is the nature of that kind of suffering, which could bring the mind into such a cool passive frame, especially to operate so upon a nation naturally impetuous in their passions, and keenly alive to the tenderest sensibilities of the heart. Was it their hereditary suffering that had become a second nature — ^was it the peculiarity belonging to hunger alone — or was it their religion, that had produced that submissiveness which overcame the natural propensities, and brought them into passive obedience, when the hand of affliction pressed them sore?

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 4

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Cook Street, in 1847, a respectably clean woman in Dublin had spent her last farthing on food. She went to a Relief Officer, who promised he would call on her, but he never came. She went to bed that night without relief, and the next day did the same. On the third morning she was found in a state of patient suffering, her mind fully made up to die, without making any further effort. The annals that record this ask what kind of suffering could bring a people naturally impetuous into such cool, passive obedience, whether it was hereditary affliction, the peculiar power of hunger, or their religion that produced this submissiveness when the hand of affliction pressed them sore.

14. Unroofed cabins and buried famine victims at Cross

    Cross (Boyd) · townland · Mayo

    Walking along the sea-coast called Cross in Erris, the author found unroofed cabins whose inmates had died or been evicted, with many buried under the ruins of their own homes, having been found starved in a putrid state and covered only with tumbled stones for lack of coffins.

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    Nature here seemed to have put on lier wildest dress, for in the whole barony of Erris there is but one tree, and that a stinted one ; and this barony extends thirtyfive miles. But here our walk seemed to be through something unlike all I had seen. In some plac69 nature appeared like a maniac, who, in her ravings, had disheveled her locks and tattered her garments. In others, she put on a desponding look, as if almost despairing, yet not not unwilling to be restored, if there were any to comfort her ; in others, the bold cliflfe dashed by the maddening waves, seemed like a lion rising from his lair, and going forth in fury for his prey. Three miles presented us with grand, beautiful, and painful scenes ; the air was salubrious — the sun was bright ; the unroofed cabins silent and dreary, told us that the ejected inmates were wandering shelterless or dead, many of whom were buried under the ruins, who were found starved in a putrid state ; and having no coflSns, the stones of the cabins were tumbled upon them. Mrs. D. was one of those sensitive beings who are capable of enjoying the beauties of nature, and capable too of suffering most keenly. She had tasted deeply of sorrow — was a new-made widow — her mother had died but a few months previous — an adopted child, a lovely niece of ten years old, had died a few weeks before. As we neared the burying-ground she pointed to the spot, saying, " There I put her, my fair blossom ; and there, by her side, I put her uncle,'^ (meaning her husband,) "five weeks after; but you must excuse me from taking you there, for I could not ven-

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15. Five Hundred Dead on Arranmore

    near Aran Island · townland · Donegal · 1847–1849

    During the Great Famine, five hundred people died on the small island of Arranmore, once known for its peace and comfort, before conditions slowly improved the following year when the potato crop was not blasted.

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    former standing, that relief was immediately sent from England, and they had saved as much for seed as they could, and not starve. Five hundred died from famine on that island. The potatoe was not blasted the following year, and they again looked up with tolerable comfort. The island has since been sold, and cultivation will be carried on upon a more extensive and profitable scale. Could a new race of landlords settle upon that coast, and drain and plow the now useless soil, the tenants that are drooping and discouraged, would lift up their heads with joy and hope. The air blows as pure as ever breezes did ; and were industry encouraged, and food abundant, the inhabitants would cause the grave-digger to have the same source of complaint that once was made in the South, when a poor woman exclaimed, " The times are dreadful, ma'am, Patrick has not put a spade to the ground this six weeks, not a word of lyin."

    The comfort and hospitality at Roshine Lodge must be left, and with the kind Mrs. F. and her friend I turned away sadly from the scenes of desolation there witnessed, and again went to Gweedore, to meet Mrs. Hewitson, who was to accompany me to Belfast, and we prepared for the journey. She had distributed her grants, and her unceasing labors, often for twenty hours in twenty-four, called for relaxation. We left the pretty spot in sadness, for the starving were crowding about and pressing her for food, following the carriage — begging and thanking — blessing and weeping. We were obliged to shake them off, and hurried in agony

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 5

16. The Family Found Dead in a Sealed Cabin

    Newport · townland · Mayo

    Near Newport, a man discovered a closed cabin containing a father, mother, and two children who had died together in a dark corner. The father's body was considerably decomposed, and it appeared the mother, dying last, had fastened the door to die unseen.

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    said so much for the mockery of death, with all its trappings and ceremonies — the mockery of pompous funerals, and their black retinue. This poor boy unheeded had staid in the dark cabin with those dead brothers, not even getting admittance into the gate, till some respectable one should want a burial ; then he might follow this procession at a suitable distance, with two dead brothers upon his back, and put them in with his own hands, with none to compassionate him ! A cabin was seen closed one day a little out of the town, when a man had the curiosity to open it, and in a dark corner he found a family of the father, mother, and two children, lying in close compact. The father was considerably decomposed ; the mother, it appeared, had died last, and probably fastened the door, which was always the custom when all hope was extinguished, to get into the darkest corner and die, where passersby could not see them. Such family scenes were quite common, and the cabin was generally pulled down upon them for a grave. The man called, begging me to look in. I did not, and could not endure, as the famine progressed, such sights, as well as at the first, they were too real, and these realities became a dread. In all my former walks over the island, by day or night, no shrinking or fear of danger ever retarded in the least my progress's but now, the horror of meeting living walking ghosts, or stumbling upon the dead in my path at night, inclined me to keep within when necessity did not call. The entire face of the country was changed, for though poverty always was brooding her dismal

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    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 13

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Newport, a cabin was seen closed one day, a little out of the town. A man had the curiosity to open it, and in a dark corner he found a family, the father, mother, and two children, lying in close compact. The father was considerably decomposed. The mother, it appeared, had died last, and probably fastened the door, which was always the custom when all hope was extinguished, to get into the darkest corner and die, where passers by could not see them. Such family scenes were quite common, and the cabin was generally pulled down upon them for a grave. The man called, begging the narrator to look in. The narrator did not, and could not endure, as the famine progressed, such sights as well as at the first. They were too real, and these realities became a dread. In all former walks over the island, by day or night, no shrinking or fear of danger ever retarded progress. But now the horror of meeting living walking ghosts, or stumbling upon the dead in a path at night, inclined the narrator to keep within when necessity did not call. The entire face of the country was changed, for though poverty always was brooding her dismal.

17. Father and Daughter Die Forgotten in Dublin

    Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1847

    A starving man, briefly aided by a curate who then forgot him, was found weeks later with his two-year-old daughter dying beside him on a litter of straw. Both died within two days, his wife having already been sent to hospital.

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    been saved. A curate called and found him recruiting from the last stage of starvation in which I first found him, and kindly gave him a little money and food, promising that he would provide for him in future, and relieve me, as so many were on my hands. The curate forgot him. Three weeks after I called to see him ; — a girl of two years was dying on a litter of straw in the corner, nestled by the emaciated father, who was too weak to know the suffering of his child ; and in two days they were both dead. He had been " forgotten by his neighbors,'' his wife was in the hospital ; he sat waiting, as was common, in patient hope, till death relieved him.

    Cases of death were not so common in Dublin as in many cities ; the Society of Friends did much to stay the plague, and their work was carried on by different means ; their laborers, in most cases, were volunteers, who asked no reward but that of doing good. How many of the poor bless the name of William Forster, and Joseph Crosfield, from England, for their labors of love ; who, on the 28th of December, 1846, reached Dublin, made their object known to that Committee, whose views and operations harmonized, and thence they proceeded on their mission of love and mercy. Their graphic report is before the world, as well as others of that denomination of Christians, James Luke, Marcus Goodbody, William Dillwyn Sims, and William Todhunter. These men, moved by high and lofty feelings, spent no time in idle commenting on the Protestant or Papist faith — the Radical, Whig, or Tory

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 4

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Dublin, in 1847, a starving man was found sitting with his two-year-old daughter on a litter of straw. A curate had visited weeks before, given him a little money and food, and promised to provide for him. The curate forgot. When the narrator returned three weeks later, the child was dying in the corner, nestled against her emaciated father, who was too weak even to know her suffering. He had been, as the source says, "forgotten by his neighbors." His wife was already in the hospital. Within two days, father and daughter were both dead. He had sat waiting, as was common then, in patient hope, till death relieved him. Deaths were not as common in Dublin as in many cities. The Society of Friends did much to stay the plague, their labourers in most cases volunteers who asked no reward but doing good. William Forster and Joseph Crosfield came from England and reached Dublin on the 28th of December, 1846, made their mission known to a committee there, and then proceeded on their work of mercy. Others of that denomination joined them, including James Luke, Marcus Goodbody, William Dillwyn Sims, and William Todhunter. These men spent no time commenting on Protestant or Catholic faith, or on politics. They simply worked.

18. Westport Workhouse Turned Charnel House

    Westport · townland · Mayo · 1847–1849

    Westport Union workhouse, once well-kept, became overcrowded and neglectful as famine funds ran low. Inmates were left starving, unwashed, and living in horrific conditions, with 'yellow Indian' meal causing illness among the poor.

    Read the passage

    These splendid monumenta of Ireland's poverty number no less than one hundred and thirty, and some contain a thousand, and some two thousand, and in cases of emergency they can heap a few hundreds more. Before the famine they were many of them quite interesting objects for a stranger to visit, generally kept clean, not crowded, and the food sufficient. But when famine advanced, when funds decreased, when the doors were besieged by imploring applicants, who wanted a place to die, that they might be buried in a coflSn, they were little else than chamel houses, while the living, shivering skeletons that squatted upon the floors, or stood with arms folded against the wall, half-clad, with hair uncombed, hands and face xmwashed, added a horror if not terror to the sight. Westport Union had long been celebrated for its management, its want of comfort, in fire, food, lodging, and room ; but stay and die, or go out and die, was the choice. Making suitable allowances for a rainy day — the house undergoing some changes when I visited it — there then

    THE FAMINE IN IRELAND. 167

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 10

    As the companion tells it

    Close to Westport, there was a workhouse that tells you what the famine did to these places. Ireland had 130 of them, some holding a thousand people, some two thousand, and in emergencies a few hundred more could be heaped in. Before the famine, many were worth a stranger's visit. They were clean, not crowded, and the food was sufficient. But when the famine advanced and funds decreased, the doors were besieged by people begging for a place to die, so they might be buried in a coffin. The workhouses became little else than charnel houses. The living, shivering skeletons squatted on the floors or stood with arms folded against the wall, half-clad, hair uncombed, hands and face unwashed, adding horror if not terror to the sight. Westport Union had long been celebrated for its management, and for its want of comfort in fire, food, lodging, and room. The choice was stay and die, or go out and die. When the author visited, the house was undergoing some changes.

19. A rector turns away a starving Catholic man

    Ireland · townland · 1847–1849

    A poor Catholic man with a large family applied to a rector of the Established Church for famine relief donations meant for the parish, but was turned away and told to seek bread from his priest instead, despite having a legitimate claim. The sexton gloated that 'this will learn 'em' where they stood religiously.

    Read the passage

    " I am a Catholic," the man answered. " Ah, yesj give your soul to the priest, and come here for me to feed your body ; go back, and get your bread where you get your teaching." " This will learn 'em," said the exulting sexton of the church, who related the incident, " this will learn 'em where they are." The poor man went away without relief, though he belonged to the parish, and had a claim. Turning them over to the priests was the worst part of the spirit ; for the priests, in the first place, were not a government-paid people, and in the next, they had at that time no donations intrusted to them ; and to tantalize a hungry man with that retort, was like hanging him in gibbets, and then telling him to eat bread.

    Such treatment was calculated not only to drive the poor to all sorts of intrigue, but to make them hate still more a religion that they always supposed to be false. The question which the Quaker put to the rector could well apply here, when he remarked that no good would be done to the Papists in Ireland while they rejected the Bible — " What good, friend, has thy Bible done thee ?" Ah, true ; what good does it do any who practice not its spirit 7 It is not intended to imply, by these statements, that the clergy of the Established Church in Ireland, during the famine, were all bigots, or all hardhearted, and without any true Christianity ; but it is intended to say, that the spirit of bigotry and partiality was there, and wherever manifested, whether by that religious party or any other, had a most unfavorable effect both on the bodies and minds of the suffering.

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 24

20. Orphan Children Turned Away from Castlebar Workhouse

    Castlebar · townland · Mayo

    A seven-year-old boy and his five-year-old sister, the last of their family, walked ten miles through mud and rain to the Castlebar workhouse seeking admission. The girl was accepted but the boy was turned away for lack of room, forcing him to survive on the streets and by begging food from Mrs. Arthur.

    Read the passage

    They were told they must make application to the poorhouse, at Castlebar, which was ten Irish miles away. One cold rainy day in November, this boy took his little sister by the hand, and faint with hunger, set off for Castlebar. And now, reader, if you will, follow these little hare-footed., hare-headed Connaught orphans through a muddy road of ten miles, in a rainy day, without food, and see them at the workhouse, late at night. The doors are closed — at last, they succeed in being heard. The girl is received, the boy sent away — no room for him — ^he made his way back to Newport the next morning, and had lived by crawling into any place he could at night, and once a day called at the door of my friend who fed him-

    He soon came a fine-looking boy, with unusually matured judgment. The servant was paid for taking him into an outhouse and scrubbing him thoroughly, &c. A nice black suit of clothes was found in the American box, with a cap suited to his head ; and when he was suitably prepared by the servant, the clothes were put on. He had not, probably, been washed for six months, and his clothes were indescribable ; his skin, which had been kept from wind and sun, by the coat which had so long been gathering, was white, and so changed was he wholly and entirely, that I paused to look at him ; and tied about his neck a pretty silk handkerchief, to finish the whole. " What do you say now, my boy ; I shall burn your old clothes, and you never shall see them again V^ A moment's hesitation — he looked up, I supposed to thank me, when to my surprise, he burst into

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 5

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, close to Castlebar, there was a workhouse where two orphan children arrived one November night in the famine years. They had been told they must make application to the poorhouse at Castlebar, which was ten Irish miles from where they lived. One cold rainy day, a boy took his little sister by the hand, faint with hunger, and set off. The narrator asks you to follow these little hare-footed, hare-headed Connaught orphans through a muddy road of ten miles on a rainy day without food, and see them at the workhouse late at night. The doors were closed. At last they succeeded in being heard. The girl was received. The boy was sent away. There was no room for him. He made his way back to Newport the next morning, and lived by crawling into any place he could at night, and once a day called at the door of the narrator's friend, who fed him. He soon came to be a fine-looking boy with unusually matured judgment. A servant was paid for taking him into an outhouse and scrubbing him thoroughly. A black suit of clothes was found in the American box, with a cap suited to his head. He had not probably been washed for six months, and his clothes were indescribable. His skin, kept from wind and sun by the coat that had so long been gathering on him, was white. So changed was he wholly and entirely that the narrator paused to look at him. A silk handkerchief was tied about his neck to finish it all. The narrator said to him, "What do you say now, my boy; I shall burn your old clothes, and you never shall see them again." A moment's hesitation. He looked up, as if to give thanks, and then burst into tears.

21. Starving Laborer Found on the Highway at Kingstown

    Dunleary · townland · Dublin · 1846–1847

    A servant alerted the author to a man in a state of actual starvation, attempting to work on the Queen's highway near Kingstown for fifteen-pence a day to support his seven dependents. He was emaciated to the last degree, having sold his family's clothes, and was fed daily until he recovered strength.

    Read the passage

    heeds you not, neither does he beg. The first stage is somewhat clamorous — ^will not easily be put off; the next is patient, passive stupidity; and the last is idiocy. In the second stage they will stand at a window for hours, without asking charity, giving a vacant stare, and not until peremptorily driven away will they move. In the last state, the head bends forward, and they walk with long strides, and pass you unheedingly. The man before mentioned was emaciated to the last degree ; he was tall, his eyes prominent, his skin shriveled, his manner cringing and childlike ; and the impression then and there made never has nor never can be effaced ; it was the first^ and the beginning of these dreadful days yet in reserve. He had a breakfast, and was told to come in at four and get his dinner. The family ^ere from home ; the servant had an Irish heart, consequently my endeavors were all seconded. Often has she taken the loaf allowed for her board-wages, (that is, so much allowed weekly for food,) and sliced nearly the whole away — denying herself for the suffering around her. It must be mentioned that laborers for the public, on roads, seldom or never ate more than twice a day, at ten and four ; their food was the potato and oatmeal stirabout, and buttermilk, the luxury which was seldom enjoyed. This man was fed on Indian meal, gruel, buttermilk or new milk and bread in the morning ; stirabout, buttermilk and bread at four. Workmen are not paid at night on the public works, they must wait a week ; and if they commence labor in a state of hunger, they often die before the

    FAMINE IN IBELAND. 39

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog

22. The Capture and Execution of the Robber Mitchell

    near Joyce Country · townland · Galway

    In the Joyce country, a notorious robber named Mitchell was betrayed by a landlord who had sheltered him and even promised him his daughter. While Mitchell slept, the landlord wetted his pistol pans and brought in magistrates; Mitchell was seized, bound, and finally executed.

    Read the passage

    This parish borders on the famous Joyce country, and is replete with interest, where in days of yore robbers and murderers sported at will. A noted robber, by the name of Mitchell, was taken in a house pointed out, now in a crumbling state, but then occupied by a landlord who entertained the mountain robber, and had even bargained away his daughter to this desperado. A handsome reward was offered to secure this fearful prowler, and the landlord, in spite of family relation or treaty, determined to make sure the prize. One night, when Mitchell, overcome with a mountain excursion of plunder, had gone to sleep with his pistols near him, the landlord wetted the pans, went out and took in the magistrates to Mitchell's bed, who was still asleep, but soon awaked — seized his pistols — they refused to act. He was secured, bound, and finally executed.

    On the route this day, among all the rarities, was the christening of an infant in a miserable dark cabin by this priest, which he- assured me was the only birth he had known for months. May I never see the like again ! The dark mud cabin — the straw on which the mother lay — the haggard countenances of the starving group — the wooden bowl of " holy water" — the plate of salt — the mummery of the priest, while he was putting the salt of grace to its lips, the blowing with his breath to infuse the regenerating spirit into the soul, were such a trifling, fearful combination of

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 16

23. Starving Families Demolished in the Barony of Erris

    Erris · townland · Mayo · 1847–1849

    The author described the desolate hamlets of Erris belonging to J. Walshe, where demolished cabins left families either dead or reduced to sheltering in sandbanks by the sea, lingering toward death with no food.

    Read the passage

    When I went over desolate Erris, and saw the demolished cabins belonging to J. Walshe, I begged to know if all had died from that hamlet — " Worse than died," was the answer*; for if they are alive, they are in sandbanks on the bleak sea-shore, or crowded into some miserable cabin for a night or two, waiting for death ; they are lingering out the last hours of suffering. Oh ! ye poor, ye miserable oppressors ! what will ye do, when the day of God's wrath shall come? Have ye ever thought what " rock and mountain " ye can call upon to screen your naked heads, who would not here give the poor and hungry a shelter 1 When " the elements shall melt with fervent heat ;" then shall the blaze of these ruins scorch and scathe you ; yea, burn you up, if you do not now make haste to repent. Ye lords, when the Lord of lords, and God of gods, shall gird on his sword ; then shall these poor be a swift witness against you. The widow and the fatherless ye have delighted to oppress, because they could not resist you, and yet you dare to call yourselves by

    182 ANNALS OF THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 13

24. The Widow and Mary in a Dublin Alley

    Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1846–1847

    In a dark, filthy alley in Dublin, the author found a lame widow and her friend Mary living on damp straw with no fire, food, or proper clothing, having pawned everything to pay rent. The widow calmly calculated they had only fourteen days left to live before starving, but the author's daily care nursed them both back to health.

    Read the passage

    pawned her last to pay her rent ; her husband likewise had pawned his coat for the same purpose. He was lying upon the straw, with a fragment of a cotton shawl about him, for he had no shirt. They were all silent, and for a while I was mute. The woman first mentioned broke the pause, by saying, " This, I believe, is the kind lady I met last night : you have found the way to our dark place, and I am sorry we cannot ask you to sit down.'' There was not even a stool in the room. The young woman had been sick for weeks, and was now only able to sit up a little; but having neither food, fuel, or covering, nothing but death stared them in the face ; and the most affecting part of the whole to me was the simple statement of the widow, who said, in the most resigned manner, " We have been talking, Mary and I, this morning, and counting off our days ; we could not expect any relief, for I could not go out again, and she could not, and the farthest that the good Grod will give us on earth cannot be more than fourteen days. The children, may be," she added, " God would let her take with her, for they must soon starve if left." This had been a cool calculation made from the appearance of the present condition, and without the least murmuring they were bringing their minds to their circumstances. " You are willing to live longer," I said. " If the good Grod wills it," was the answer ; " but we cannot see how." They did live. Daily did I go and cook their food, or see it cooked, and daily did they improve ; and in a few weeks many an apronful of shavings and blocks were brought to me from the coffin-

    48 ANNALS OF THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Dublin, in 1846 or 1847, the author of the Annals of the Famine in Ireland walked into a dark alley and found two women on damp straw. There was no fire, no food, no proper clothing. One was a lame widow who had pawned her last possessions to pay her rent. Her husband had pawned his coat for the same purpose, and was lying on the straw with a fragment of a cotton shawl about him, for he had no shirt. The room had not even a stool. The widow broke the silence. She said, "This, I believe, is the kind lady I met last night: you have found the way to our dark place, and I am sorry we cannot ask you to sit down." The young woman, Mary, had been sick for weeks and could only sit up a little. With no food, fuel, or covering, nothing but death stared them in the face. The widow said, in the most resigned manner, "We have been talking, Mary and I, this morning, and counting off our days; we could not expect any relief, for I could not go out again, and she could not, and the farthest that the good God will give us on earth cannot be more than fourteen days." She added that perhaps God would let Mary take the children with her, for they must soon starve if left. It was a cool calculation, made without the least murmuring, as they brought their minds to their circumstances. The author said, "You are willing to live longer." The widow answered, "If the good God wills it, but we cannot see how." They did live. The author went daily to cook their food, or see it cooked, and daily they improved. In a few weeks they were bringing apronfuls of shavings and blocks from the coffin shop.

25. Battle at Castlemartyr Castle after the Boyne

    Castlemartyr · townland · Cork · 1690

    Castlemartyr Castle was long famous for battles and plunder. After the Battle of the Boyne, King William's forces charged three hundred Irish troops who had fled to the castle, driving them out and taking the fortress with the loss of sixty men and sixteen prisoners taken.

    Read the passage

    The feelings of the people are so sensitive, that they are not willing to speak of the subject when the fields begin to droop, and when mention is made of the appearance of a new failure, everything favorable is brought to bear on the subject ; and often one member of a family has been known to keep all knowledge from the others, th«"t might have reached him. Castlemartyr was once a parliamentary borough ; the castle has long been famous for battles and plunders, and King William's forces, after the Battle of the Boyne, charged a body of three hundred Irish, who fled to the castle, were driven out, the fortress surrendered, with the loss of sixty men, and sixteen prisoners taken. The Irish, in 1671, got possession of the town, but were driven out, and the castle since has laid in ivy-covered ruins, being used as a wine-cellar by Lord Shannon. It is surrounded with the loftiest trees, and a lawn of emerald green runs down to a lake upon one side of it. A thousand acres of the most richly cultivated land belong to this domain ; a canal, three lakes, an extensive deer park, walks and rides, a flower garden of rare beauty, and kitchen garden of great size. Near the castle stands his lordship's house, containing a center and two wings.

    The apparatus for hunting is a great curiosity.

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 19

26. Bleaching Bones at Murrisk Abbey

    near Murrisk · townland · Mayo

    At Murrisk Abbey near Croagh Patrick, a place is reserved for the burial of priests, with piles of their leg and arm bones left in a window to make room for fresh remains. The author laments that the Irish seem to leave bones to bleach in the sun and skulls to be kicked about as footballs.

    Read the passage

    A branch of the Garvey family lives near Murrisk Abbey, situated on Clew Bay, at the foot of the Croagh Patrick. The house stands near the sea, embosomed in wood, a garden of three acres, with useful horticultural productions, at the back of it, and the abbey at a little distance. The walls of the abbey are of smooth stone in small blocks ; the building contains numerous apartments. A place is reserved for the burying of priests, and a pile of their leg and arm-bones are now in a window to leave room for fresh inmates.

    The Irish appear to have no regard for their dead when the flesh is consumed, but leave the bones to bleach in the sun, and the skulls to be kicked about as foot-balls in any place. A return through Westport to Castlebar gave a sight of suffering and degradation which could not be heightened. A coach is d-

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 16

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, near Murrisk, stands the old abbey at the foot of Croagh Patrick. It has smooth stone walls in small blocks and numerous rooms inside. A place was reserved there for the burial of priests, and a pile of their leg and arm bones was left in a window to make room for fresh remains. The author who passed through wrote that the Irish appear to have no regard for their dead when the flesh is consumed, but leave the bones to bleach in the sun and the skulls to be kicked about as footballs. A branch of the Garvey family lived nearby, their house by the sea, sheltered in trees, with a three-acre garden behind it.

27. Coffin Street: Winter of Death and Misery in Dublin

    Cook Street · townland · Dublin · 1846–1847

    The author devoted her winter's charitable labor to Cook Street, known by the grim nickname 'Coffin Street' because it was devoted almost entirely to making coffins, chosen for being 'the seat of misery refined' amid Dublin's extreme poverty. She distributed bread and cooked food for starving families there through the famine winter.

    Read the passage

    My task was a different one — operating individually. I took my own time and way — as woman is wont to do when at her own option ; and before the supplies, which afterward came through the letters mentioned, I marked out a path which was pursued during that winter, until July, when I left for the North. A basket of good dimensions was provided, suflScient to contain three loaves of the largest made bread ; this was cut in slices, and at eight o'clock I set off. The poor had watched the " American lady," and were always on the spot, ready for an attack, when I went out ; and the most efficient' method of stopping their importunities was bread. No sooner well upon the street, than the army commenced rallying ; and no one, perhaps, that winter, was so regularly guarded as was this basket and its owner. A slice was given to each, till it was all exhausted ; while in desperation, at times, lest I might be overpowered — not by violence, but by number — I hurried on, sometimes actually running to my place of destination, the hungry ones, men, women, and children, who had not received the slice, in pursuit — till I rushed into some shop-door or house, for protection, till the troop should retire ; sometimes the stay would be long and tedious, and ofttimes they must be driven back by force. Cook street, a place devoted almost entirely to making coflSns,

    FAMINE IN IRELAND. 45

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here is Cook Street, which people called Coffin Street, because it was devoted almost entirely to making coffins. In the winter of 1846, as famine deepened, one woman chose this street for her charitable work. She called it the seat of misery refined, the worst of Dublin's poverty. She worked alone. Each morning at eight o'clock she set out carrying a basket large enough to hold three loaves of the biggest bread, cut into slices. She also distributed cooked food. The poor had been watching for her. They called her the American lady, and they were always waiting when she came out. No sooner was she well upon the street than the army commenced rallying, as she put it. Nobody that winter was so regularly guarded as that basket and its owner. She gave a slice to each person until the bread was all gone. Sometimes, in desperation, fearing she might be overpowered not by violence but by sheer number, she hurried on, sometimes actually running to her destination. The hungry ones, men, women, and children who had not received a slice, ran after her. She would rush into some shop door or house for protection until the troop should retire. Sometimes the stay was long and tedious. Often they had to be driven back by force. She kept this up through that winter until July, when she left for the North.

28. Overcrowded Graves and Exposed Bodies at Old Head

    Old Head · townland · Cork

    At Old Head, the narrator witnessed a burial where the grave, dug only a few inches deep, struck the coffin of another body already buried there. Graveyards were so overfilled that dogs could access corpses and parts of bodies were often exposed.

    Read the passage

    was taken, is near this place. In years gone by this well was a frequented spot, where invalids went to be healed. It is now surrounded by stone, covered with earth, and a path about gives the trodden impress of many a knee, where the postulant goes round seven times, repeating a " Paternoster " at every revolution, and drops a stone, which tells that the duty is performed. A hole is shown in a stone, where the holy St. Patrick knelt till he wore the stone away. A poor peasant girl, in the simplicity of her heart, explained all the ceremonies of the devotees and virtues of the well, regretting that the priests had forbidden the practice now. A company soon entered the church-yard and set down a white coflin, waiting till the widow of the deceased should bring a spade to open the grave ; and while the dirt was being taken away she sat down, leaning upon the coffin, setting up the Irish wail in the most pathetic manner ; she, by snatches, rehearsed his good qualities, then burst into a gush of tears, then commenced in Irish, as the meager English has no words to express the height of grief, madness, or joy. The ground was opened but a few inches when the coffin of another was touched. The grave-yards are everywhere filled so near the surface that dogs have access, and some parts of the body are often exposed.

    A debate was now in progress respecting good works and the importance of being baptized into the true church. Mrs. G., who professed to be a papist, disputed the ground with them, till the contest became so sharp that I retired, for their darkness was painful ; it

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 16

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, close to Old Head, a company entered a churchyard and set down a white coffin. They waited for the widow of the deceased to bring a spade to open the grave. While the dirt was being taken away, she sat down, leaning upon the coffin, setting up the Irish wail in the most pathetic manner. She rehearsed his good qualities by snatches. Then she burst into a gush of tears. Then she commenced again in Irish, because, as she said, meager English has no words to express the height of grief, madness, or joy. The ground was opened but a few inches when the coffin of another was touched. The graveyards are everywhere filled so near the surface that dogs have access, and some parts of the body are often exposed. A holy well near this place once drew the sick. Invalids went there to be healed. It is now surrounded with stone and covered with earth. A path shows the trodden impress of many a knee. Devotees went round seven times, repeating a Paternoster at every revolution, and dropped a stone to show the duty was performed. A hole in a stone was shown where St. Patrick knelt till he wore the stone away. A poor peasant girl, in the simplicity of her heart, explained all the ceremonies and virtues of the well, regretting that the priests had forbidden the practice. A debate was now in progress about good works and the importance of being baptized into the true church. Mrs. G., who professed to be a papist, disputed the ground with them until the contest became so sharp that the narrator retired, for their darkness was painful.

29. Soldiers Called Out to Protect Converts at Dingle Mission

    Dingle · townland · Kerry · 1840–1848

    A coast-guard officer recounted how soldiers were marched under arms in Dingle to protect a small group of Catholics converting to the Protestant mission church, fearing persecution from local peasantry. The officer noted the display was mocked by locals who threw turf and shouted 'turncoat' or 'souper.'

    Read the passage

    The soldiery stationed in Ireland are a living proof of this principle, and especially so, as this army is required to show its warlike power in defense of the missionaries stationed there, being called out to display their banners when any new converts are to be added to the Protestant ranks from the Romish church. An instance of this was related by a coast-guard officer, stationed in the town of Dingle. Some five or six years ago, a half-dozen or more of the Romans had concluded to unite with thp Protestant mission establishment there, and the Sabbath that the union was to take place in the church, the soldiery were called out to march under arms, to protect this little band from the fearful persecutions that awaited them on their way thither. The coast-guard officer was summoned to be in readiness cap a pie for battle, if battle should be neces'sary ; he remonstrated — ^he ^as a Methodist by profession, and though his occupation was something warlike, yet he did not see any need of carnal weapons in building up a spiritual church ; but he was under government pay, and must do government work. He accordingly obeyed, and, to use his own words substantially, " We marched in battle array, with gun and bayonet, over a handful of peasantry — a spectacle to

    304 ANNALS OP THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 25

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, soldiers were once marched under arms to protect a small group of Catholics joining the Protestant mission church in Dingle. A coast-guard officer stationed in the town told the story. Some five or six years before the account was written, a half-dozen or more people from the Catholic church had decided to unite with the Protestant mission establishment there. On the Sabbath when the union was to take place, the soldiery were called out to march under arms, to protect this little band from the persecutions that awaited them on their way to the church. The coast-guard officer was summoned to be in readiness, fully armed for battle if battle should be necessary. He remonstrated. He was a Methodist by profession, and though his occupation was something warlike, he did not see any need of carnal weapons in building up a spiritual church. But he was under government pay, and must do government work. He obeyed, and in his own words, they marched in battle array, with gun and bayonet, over a handful of peasantry. The local people mocked the display, throwing turf and shouting turncoat and souper at the converts.

30. The Boy Who Feared New Clothes at Newport

    Newport · townland · Mayo

    At Newport, Mrs. Arthur had fed a seven-year-old orphan boy whose family had died, and whose sister had been admitted to the Castlebar workhouse while he was turned away. When given clean clothes by the author, he wept in terror, fearing that looking well-dressed would make people believe he had a mother caring for him and thus deny him charity.

    Read the passage

    an agony of loud weeping. " What can be the matter V^ He answered, " Now I shall sure die with the hunger ; if they see me with nice clothes on, they will say I tell lies, that I have a mother that minds me ; and lady, you won't burn them old clothes,'' (turning about to gather them up) ; and if I had not sternly commanded him to drop them, he would have cla&ped them close, as his best and dearest friends. In truth, this was a new development of mind I had never seen before, clinging with a firm grasp to a bundle of filthy, forbidding garments, as the only craft by which to save his life ; choosing uncleanliness to decency, at an age too when all the young emotions of pride generally spring up in fondness for new and pretty garments. The silk handkerchief seemed almost to frighten him. Was it the principle of association, which older people experience when they cling to objects which have been their companions in trial, or those places where they have seen their dearest comforts depart ? He would not have consented to have left those old clothes behind, but by a promise which he could hardly believe ; that he should be fed every day through the winter. He was taken immediately to a school, where the children were fed once a day, and instructed for a penny a week ; this penny, the teacher said, should not be exacted, as he had been clothed by me. I saw the boy through the winter, three months after his clothes were tidy and had not been torn, and he was improving.

    His fears respecting the " hungry " were not ground-

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 5

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Newport, a seven-year-old orphan boy was given clean clothes, and he broke into loud weeping. His family had died. His sister had been taken into the Castlebar workhouse, but he had been turned away. Mrs. Arthur had been feeding him. When the author brought him new clothes, the boy cried out that now he would surely die of hunger. If people saw him dressed well, they would say he was telling lies, that he had a mother who minded him, and they would give him nothing. He turned to gather up his old clothes, and would have clutched them to himself, the author said, as his best and dearest friends, if she had not sternly commanded him to drop them. He clung to that bundle of filthy garments as the only way to save his life. Even a silk handkerchief seemed to frighten him. He would not leave the old clothes behind until the author promised he would be fed every day through the winter. She took him to a school where children were fed once a day and taught for a penny a week. The teacher said the penny would not be exacted, since the boy had been clothed by her. Three months later his clothes were still tidy and untorn, and he was improving. His fears about the hungry, the author wrote, were not groundless.

31. Starvation Crowds at Achill Sound

    Achill Sound · townland · Mayo

    At Achill Sound, hundreds of starving people, none with shoes or head coverings, gathered daily around Mr. Savage's relief house with ghastly, ghost-like faces of hunger and despair. The scene was described as unforgettable amid the desperate winter of the famine.

    Read the passage

    From Newport I went to Achill Sound. Here was enough to excite the pity and energy of all such as possessed them. This wild dreary sea-coast at any time presents little except its salubrity of air, and grandeur of storms and tempests, tempered with the beauty of its varied clouds, when lighted by the sun, to make it the most inviting spot. But now the work of death was going on ; and, notwithstanding the exertions of Mr. Savage, with the aid of the Central Committee in Dublin, and government relief beside, at times it seemed to mock all effort. Mr. Savage seemed to be in the position of the " ass colt '' in scripture, " tied where two ways meet." He had the island of Achill on one side across the Sound, and a vast bog and mountainous waste on the other, with scarcely an inhabitant for many a mile, (but the colony of Mr. Nangle,) which could subsist only but by charity. The groups which surrounded the house, from the dawn of day till dark, called forth the incessant labors of many hands, both male and female, to appease the pitiful requests multiplying around them. Oh ! the scenes of that dreadful winter ! Who shall depict them, and who that saw them can ever forget ? I have looked out at the door of that house, and seen from three to five, six, and seven hundred hovering about the windows and in the corners, not one woman or child having a shoe upon their feet, or a covering tf^on the head, with ghastly, yes, ghostly countenances of hunger and despair, that

    124 ANNALS OF THE

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    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, at Achill Sound in Mayo, the writer of the Annals of the Famine in Ireland came upon a scene that would not leave them. They had travelled from Newport, and found a wild, dreary sea-coast that at any time offered little but salubrious air and the grandeur of storms. But now, they said, the work of death was going on. Mr. Savage was doing all he could, with help from the Central Committee in Dublin and government relief beside, and yet at times it seemed to mock all effort. Mr. Savage was in the position of the ass colt in scripture, tied where two ways meet. He had the island of Achill on one side across the Sound, and a vast bog and mountainous waste on the other, with scarcely an inhabitant for many a mile but the colony of Mr. Nangle, which could subsist only by charity. From dawn till dark, groups surrounded the relief house, and the incessant labors of many hands, male and female, could barely keep up with the pitiful requests multiplying around them. The writer looked out the door of that house and saw from three to five, six, and seven hundred people hovering about the windows and in the corners. Not one woman or child had a shoe upon their feet or a covering on the head. They had ghastly, ghostly countenances of hunger and despair. The writer asked who shall depict the scenes of that dreadful winter, and who that saw them can ever forget.

32. Starving Crowds Besiege the Hewitson Cottage at Rossgarrow

    Rossgarrow · townland · Donegal · 1847

    At Rossgarrow in Donegal, the author witnessed daily crowds of starving people gathering outside the Hewitson family's cottage for food, pressing against windows until the frames broke. The household distributed meal donations from the Society of Friends amid overwhelming famine distress.

    Read the passage

    This industrious woman, like Solomon's prudent wife, had not only risen " while it was yet dark," to prepare meat for her household, but she had been in her meal-room at four in the morning, weighing out meal for the poor, the Society of Friends in Dublin having furnished her with grants. This I found was her daily practice, while the poor through the day made the habitation a nucleus not of the most pleasant kind. The lower window-frame in the kitchen was of board instead of glass, this all having been broken by the pressure of faces continually there.

    Who could eat, who could work, who could read, or who could play in such circumstances as these ? Certainly it sometimes seemed that the sunshine was changed, that the rain gave a stranger pattering, and truly, that the wind did moan most dolefully. The dogs ceased their barking, there were scarcely any cocks to be heard crowing in the morning, and the gladsome mirth of children everywhere ceased. ! ye, whose nerves are disturbed at the glee of the loudlaughing boy, come to this land of darkness and death, and for leagues you may travel, and in house or cabin, by the wayside, on the hill-top, or upon the meadow, you shall not see a smile, you shall not see the sprightly foot running in ecstacy after the rolling hoop, leaping the ditch or tossing the ball. The young laughing full

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 4

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Rossgarrow in Donegal, in 1847, a woman of the Hewitson household rose while it was yet dark each morning. By four she was in her meal-room, weighing out meal for the poor. The Society of Friends in Dublin had furnished her with grants, and this distribution had become her daily practice. Through the day the starving gathered around the cottage until it became what the author called a nucleus not of the most pleasant kind. The lower window-frame in the kitchen was of board instead of glass, all the glass having been broken by the pressure of faces continually pressed there. The author asked who could eat, who could work, who could read, who could play in such circumstances. The sunshine seemed changed, the rain gave a stranger pattering, the wind moan dolefully. The dogs ceased their barking, scarcely a cock was heard crowing in the morning, and the gladsome mirth of children everywhere ceased. For leagues you might travel, the author wrote, and in house or cabin, by the wayside, on the hill-top, or upon the meadow, you should not see a smile, not see the sprightly foot running after the rolling hoop, leaping the ditch or tossing the ball.

33. Widow begs for a coffin for her starved husband

    Erris · townland · Mayo

    During a violent storm that suspended church services, a barefoot widow came asking for money to buy a coffin for her husband who had died of starvation the day before, his body grotesquely swollen, having gathered only fivepence-halfpenny herself.

    Read the passage

    One Sabbatii, irfien I tras in Enia, the dfty ms so stormy that the church eervioe vas saspended. A barefooted woman, who one year before had called to sell milk and kept a fine dairy, came into the house where I was, and calling me by name, said : " Will ye ^TC me something to hu.j a coffin to put on mj husband ; he died yesterday on me, and it would be a pity to pnt him in the ground vithont a board, and he is bo swelled, ma'am, not a ha'porth of his legs or belly bat ia ready to burst, and bat a fivcpence'halfpenny conld I gather, and the little boys are ashamed to go out and ask the charity for him."

    This is an illustration not only of the state into which famine has thrown the country, but the apathy of feeling which the most tender-hearted people on the globe manifested. A woman compelled to go out in a most perilous storm, upon a wild sea-coast, unprotected by clothes, and without a morsel of food for twenty-four hours, to procure a coffin for her husband, who had died by starvation !

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 8

34. Men dashed from cliffs searching for gulls' eggs

    Erris · townland · Mayo

    Two men searching perilous cliffs for sea-gull eggs to stave off starvation were dashed from a great height and mangled; one died instantly and the other lingered in pain for weeks before dying.

    Read the passage

    their hunger, ventured to stop till the tide washed in and swept them away. Two men were dashed from a fearful height and dreadfully mangled ; — one was killed instantly — the other lingered a few weeks and died. They were both in search of eggs to appease hunger. They seemed to face danger in a most deliberate manner, and go where none but the goat or eagle would venture. In this parish I found a specimen of that foolish pride and inability of a class of genteel Irish women, to do anything when difficulties present themselves. It was a young lady who lived back two miles upon the mountain, who belonged to one of the faded Irish " respectables ;'' she was educated in the popular genteel superficial style, and the family had some of them died, and all broken down : she, with her brotherin-law, from Dublin, was staying in a thatched cottage, which had yet the remains of taste and struggling gentility. Two of the peasant women had seen Mr. Bourne and me going that way, and by a shorter path had hastened and given the Miss notice, so that when we entered, the cottage was in trim, and she in due order to receive us. But that pitiful effort was to me painful to witness, having been told "that she suffered hunger, and knew no possible way of escape, yet she assumed a magnanimity of spirit and complained not, only expressed much pity for the poor tenants on the land about her, and begged us if possible that we would send some relief. Her table was spread with the fashionable ornaments which adorn the drawing-rooms

    of the rich ; and she, with a light scarf hung carelessly

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 9

35. The Rector's Widow Jailed in Newport

    Newport · townland · Mayo · 1847–1848

    In Newport, the widow of a former rector named Wilson, who died in 1847, was gradually stripped of all her possessions for unpaid taxes and rent. Eventually she was thrown into jail while her children were left to struggle for survival.

    Read the passage

    Newport and its vicinity presented a variety of exciting scenes : here in this pretty town, families of tolerable comfort declined step by step, till many who would have outlived th^ common changes of life could not maintain their standing in this hour of trial. A former rector, by the name of Wilson, died in the summer of 1847, leaving a widow and four children on a pretty spot, where they had resided for years, and gathered the comforts of life about them. Here I was invited to spend a few weeks, and would with gratitude record the many favors shown me there; and with deep sorrow would add, that I saw step by step all taken for taxes and rent ; everything that hajd life out of doors that could be sold at auction, was sold ; then everything of furniture, till beds and tables left the little cottage, and the mother was put in jail, and is now looking through its grates, while her children are struggling for bread. Sir Richard O'Donnell is the landlord in possession of most of the land there, and his " driver," like others akin to him, does strange

    180 ANNALS OF THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 13

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here in Newport, families who had lived in tolerable comfort were brought down step by step, till many who might have outlived the common changes of life could not hold their standing in that hour of trial. A former rector by the name of Wilson died in the summer of 1847, leaving a widow and four children on a pretty spot where they had lived for years and gathered the comforts of life about them. The writer of this account was invited to spend a few weeks there, and would record with gratitude the many favors shown, and with deep sorrow add that she saw step by step all taken for taxes and rent. Everything that had life out of doors that could be sold at auction was sold. Then everything of furniture, till beds and tables left the little cottage. The mother was put in jail, and was looking through its grates, while her children were struggling for bread. Sir Richard O'Donnell was the landlord in possession of most of the land here, and his driver, like others akin to him, did strange things.

36. Death of Abraham and burial by his daughter

    Ireland · townland · 1847

    Abraham, an old man reduced by famine to destitution, broke his arm after falling on his boggy path home and died in pain days later. His daughter carried his corpse for an Irish mile to bury him, and two men who met her assisted in burying him without coffin or ceremony.

    Read the passage

    Abraham knew and felt the change in himself, and seeking an opportunity, asked for a piece of soap, touching his collar, which Sara had always kept clean, saying, " I do not like the feel of it." Food and a little money were given him : he went away, and on his boggy path to his humble home he fell down and broke his arm ; he lingered on a few days in destitution and pain, and the next that we heard of him, two men who were walking toward sunset on Sabbath day, met his daughter who had a shelter in the mountain, where she had kept her father, with Abraham upon her back, with his arms about her neck, a loathsome corpse, which she had kept in her cabin for days, and was going alone with a spade in her hand the distance of an Irish mile, to bury him. They took the corpse and accompanied her, and put him into the ground as he was, neither with

    Thm died San aai Abr&hun, and tibns the; irere tmried, and let their epitaph be — " Lovely and pleasant in their lives, thongh in death they vere divided."

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 7

37. Joseph Bewley's Soup Shop in Dublin

    Dublin · townland · Dublin · 1846–1847

    A Quaker named Joseph Bewley operated a soup shop in Dublin that fed many hundreds of starving people twice daily with rich, nourishing soup. When funds ran low he insisted the quality not be reduced, even offering to pay from his own pocket, while comely-attired Quaker women served the ragged, emaciated poor.

    Read the passage

    When the rumor of a famine had become authenticated in Dublin, Joseph Bewley, a Friend, possessing both a warm heart and full purse, (which do not always go together,) put in operation a soup shop, which fed many hundreds twice a day. This soup was of the best quality, the best meat, peas, oatmeal, &c. ; and when applications became so numerous that a greater supply was requisite and funds failing, mention was made to this benevolent man that the quantity of meat must be reduced, his answer was, that not one iota should be taken ofF, but more added, if even it must be done entirely at his own expense. It shall, he added, be made rich and nourishing, as well as palatable. The poor who could, were required to pay half-price for a ticket ; and benevolent people purchased tickets by the quantity, and gave to the poor. The regulation of this soup establishment was a pattern worthy of imitation. The neatness and order of the shop ; the comely attired Quaker matrons and their daughters, with their white sleeves drawn over their tidy-clad arms — their white aprons and caps, all moving in that quiet harmony so peculiar to that people ; and there, too, at seven in the morning, and again at midday. All this beauty and finish, contrasted with the woe-begone, emaciated, filthy, ragged beings that stood in their turn before them, was a sight at which angels, if they could weep, might weep, and might rejoice too. Often have I stood, in painful

    44 ANNALS OF THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here in Dublin, a Quaker named Joseph Bewley ran a soup shop during the famine years of 1846 and 1847. He was a man with a warm heart and a full purse, which the source notes do not always go together, and he fed many hundreds of starving people twice a day, at seven in the morning and again at midday. The soup was made from the best meat, peas and oatmeal. When the numbers grew so large that funds began to fail, someone suggested the quantity of meat must be reduced. Bewley's answer was that not one iota should be taken off, but more added, even if it must be done entirely at his own expense. It shall, he said, be made rich and nourishing, as well as palatable. The poor who could manage it paid half-price for a ticket, and benevolent people bought tickets in quantity to give away. Quaker women served in white sleeves and aprons and caps, moving in the quiet harmony peculiar to that people. The contrast between those comely women and the woe-begone, emaciated, filthy, ragged beings who stood in turn before them was, in the words of the source, a sight at which angels, if they could weep, might weep, and might rejoice too.

38. Convict Boy-Thief and Starvation Crimes on Spike Island

    Spike Island · townland · Cork · 1848

    On Spike Island prison, convicts were held for petty crimes committed out of extreme hunger during the famine, such as stealing a turnip or a sheep. A teacher noted that most of the three hundred pupils were driven to crime purely by starvation, not criminal intent.

    Read the passage

    Strangers were not permitted, in the year 1848, to visit the convicts on Spike Island, but fortunately being a few days in the family of Doctor Maurice Power, M.P., he was, in consequence of his standing, allowed a peep among them, and had the privilege of taking all who belonged to his family ; — his wife, daughter, and myself were his company. This island is rough in its appearance, containing some one hundred and eighty acres, and has been a fortified island from about 1791-2. Here we found convicts from every part of Ireland, who were deemed worthy of an exile from home for the space of seven years. The number of these victims was about eight hundred and forty ; some employed in digging out rocks and leveling rough places, some in making mats of cocoa-nut bark, some knitting, and some marching round a circle made up on the pavement, for exercise and punishment. A school is kept where for two hours in rotation all who are of suitable age, and cannot read and write, are taught these branches. The teacher remarked, when pointing to three hundred pupils, " these persons are docile, and I believe honest ; their only crime being taking food when starving." Some of these young men and boys had thrown a stone into a bread shop, some had stolen a turnip, and some a sheep ; but every one was induced by extreme hunger to do the deed. But we are gravely

    11*

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 20

39. Shipwrecked Greenock sailors buried on the shore

    Erris · townland · Mayo · 1847

    A vessel from Greenock, Scotland was wrecked on the desolate coast of Erris in spring 1847 and every soul aboard was lost; five or six of the sailors' bodies washed ashore and were buried in a pit dug by a local man, their faces covered with an overcoat skirt.

    Read the passage

    elevated or cemented. We waited a few moments till the sister, who sat down upon the grave of the little one, had indulged her grief for the two departed, and I only heard her say, " Ah ! and you will not speak to me." An ancient abbey was near, said to be a thousand years old ; and so closely had the Catholics buried their dead there that it appeared at a little distance, like one vast pile of stones tumbled together. The Protestants and Romanists do not choose to place their dead in contact ; and these two were distinct ; but they, also, had their " respectable monuments," for we saw, on a nearer approach, that this grave-yard had elevated cemented tombstones; the ground was high, and no walls, but the roaring old sea upon one side — which sometimes boldly reaches out and snatches a sleeper from his bed. The scattered bones that lay about, told that it must long have been the " place of skulls." The last year had made great accessions to the pile, which could easily be known by their freshness, and ropes of straw and 'undried grass brought here by relatives, to put over the uncofl^ed bodies of their friends. Here were deposited five or six sailors, belonging to a vessel from Greenock, which was wrecked on this coast the preceding spring. The bodies washed ashore, and a brother of the lady with me dug a pit and put them in, spreading over their faces the skirt of one of their overcoats, " to screen," as he said, " the cruel clay from their eyes." These poor sailors, unknown and unwept, were buried by the hand of a stranger, on a foreign shore ; but somewhere

    FAMINE IN IRELAND. 139

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 8

40. The Hanging Trees of Castlebar

    Castlebar · townland · Mayo

    In the old assize town of Castlebar, many trees once bore the bodies of executed criminals hanging from their limbs. The author notes that now more genteel methods accomplish the same grim purpose in different ways.

    Read the passage

    Many trees have borne on their limbs the bodies of miserable culprits ; and now the more genteel drop effects the same work in a different way.

    March 14th. — Criminal cases were going forward now in court, and the attorneys, Dublin-like, had come prepared with wigs and gowns, for the first time, a practice heretofore not in vogu« in Connaught. The ladies in Castlebar were curious to behold this novel sight, but custom had prohibited them hitherto from appearing in these places. Two prisoners were to be tried for murder ; and wishing to know how Ireland, which has been somewhat celebrated for trials of this kind, managed such cases, in company with a young lady of the family, I went ; we found a favorable position in the gallery, where we could see the court and prisoners. The case was this : — A publican had become offended with a neighbor, and determined to be revenged, by giving him a good beating. Not wishing to do it himself, he called in two men, gave them an abundance of whisky, and for a few shillings they agreed to do it well. The man was waylaid at nightfall, and the beating went on ; many joined in the affray, some to rescue, and some to assist. The man was killed. The evidence went to prove that one of the two gave a heavier blow, and he must have finished the Avork, consequently he was guilty. The attorney, Bourke, made a most able defence, and though a Roman Catholic, lie dwelt most solemnly on the last grand Assize, when that court, as well as the prisoners at the bar, must be judged by an impartial Judge, and con-

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 16

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Castlebar, many trees once bore the bodies of miserable culprits hanging from their limbs. The author of this passage notes that in her time, what she calls the more genteel drop was doing the same work in a different way. Castlebar was an assize town, and on March 14th the criminal cases were going forward in court. The attorneys had come from Dublin prepared with wigs and gowns for the first time, a practice heretofore not in use in Connaught. The ladies of Castlebar were curious to behold this novel sight, but custom had prohibited them from appearing in these places. Two prisoners were being tried for murder. The case was this. A publican had become offended with a neighbor and determined to be revenged by giving him a good beating. Not wishing to do it himself, he called in two men, gave them an abundance of whisky, and for a few shillings they agreed to do it well. The man was waylaid at nightfall and the beating went on. Many joined in the affray, some to rescue and some to assist. The man was killed. The evidence went to prove that one of the two gave a heavier blow, and he must have finished the work. An attorney named Bourke made a most able defence, and though a Roman Catholic, he dwelt most solemnly on the last grand Assize, when that court as well as the prisoners at the bar must be judged by an impartial Judge.

41. The Blighted Field of Mathew's Brother

    Cork · townland · Cork · 1848

    A brother of Theobald Mathew planted twenty-seven acres of potatoes that flourished for weeks, and poor neighbors blessed God at the sight, removing their hats in reverence. In a single night the blight struck, leaving the crop worthless within days.

    Read the passage

    A brother of Theobald Mathew had planted a field of twenty-seven acres, in almost certain faith that they would not be blasted ; for weeks they flourished, and promised to yield an abundant crop. The poor people in the neighborhood were blessing the good God for the beautiful patch of the " kind gintleman," and seemed as happy as though they were ripening for their own use. They have been known to go and look into the field, and take off their hats, and in humble adoration bless the name of God, for his great mercy in sending them the potato again. This was their usual practice when they saw a field looking vigorous. But in one night the spoiler came — this beautiful field in the morning had, in isolated spots, the withering touch of the fatal disease. In a few days the rich extensive crop would not pay the laborer for his toil in gathering it. All was over, and in silent despondency each one submitted to the stroke. The " still small voice " seemed to say, " Be still, and know that I am God." It was something for which man could not reprove his brother ; and he dared not reproach his God. " And

    FAMINE IN IRELAND. 269

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 23

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere close to Cork, in 1848, a brother of Theobald Mathew planted twenty-seven acres of potatoes in almost certain faith they would not be blasted. For weeks the crop flourished and promised an abundant yield. Poor people in the neighborhood blessed God for the beautiful patch of the kind gentleman. They would go and look into the field, take off their hats, and in humble adoration bless the name of God for his great mercy in sending them the potato again. But in one night the spoiler came. In the morning the field showed the withering touch of the fatal disease in isolated spots. In a few days the rich crop would not pay the laborer for his toil in gathering it. All was over, and in silent despondency each one submitted to the stroke. It was something for which man could not reprove his brother, and he dared not reproach his God.

42. Bones of Kings and Beggars in Cong Abbey

    Cong · townland · Mayo

    The great abbey at Cong, with its exquisite carvings and arches, has niches entirely filled with human bones. Here the famous Roderic O'Connor is interred among neglected rubbish, priests and peasants mingling their dust together in one confused mass.

    Read the passage

    From Balinrobe, the famous Cong was visited, known as containing so many natural curiosities and ancient historical events. The abbey here is one of great interest, large, and designed with e:Jquisite carvings, and beautiful arches of doors and windows. The niches are entirely filled with bones. Here is interred the famous Roderic O'Connor, among the neglected rubbish ; and priests and people in one confused mass,

    214 ANNALS OF THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 16

43. Death of Abraham Beale from Typhus Fever

    Cork · townland · Cork · 1847

    Abraham Beale, a devoted Cork Relief Committee worker, contracted typhus fever after tireless famine relief work and died within days in August 1847. He was remembered as a friend and father figure by the community he served.

    Read the passage

    The Cork Committee acted most efficiently, and the name of Abraham Beale has left there a sweet and tasting remembrance. Beside the city of Cork, the rural districts were in the greatest distress, and this benevolent, indefatigable laborer turned his energies unceasingly to those districts, faithfully discharging his duty, till his health failed ; and his biographer states, that " His last act of pubhe duty was the attendance of the Relief Committee, in which he had bo assiduously labored." Typhus fever took him in a few days to the " mansion" which, doubtless, was prepared for him ; for though he said, " I have been but an unprofitable servant," yet the living testify that his profiting appeared unto all. He died in August, 1847, while the scourge was still raging ; and in 1848 his name was fresh on the lips of many in that city, who, with bis two bereaved sisters, say, they have lost in him a friend and a father. " The memory of the just is truly blessed."

    244 ANNALS OF THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 18

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, Abraham Beale gave everything he had to the relief of famine victims. He worked with the Cork Relief Committee, turning his energies to the rural districts around the city where distress was greatest, until his health failed. Typhus fever took him in a few days, and he died in August 1847, while the scourge was still raging. His biographer records that his last act of public duty was attending the Relief Committee where he had so assiduously laboured. He said of himself, 'I have been but an unprofitable servant,' yet the living testified that his profiting appeared unto all. The year after his death, his name was still fresh on the lips of many in this city, who, with his two bereaved sisters, said they had lost in him a friend and a father.

44. Lord George Hill's Reforms at Gweedore

    near Gweedore · townland · Donegal · 1838–1850

    Lord George Hill purchased over 23,000 acres in Gweedore in 1838 and transformed the estate through building a corn store, establishing a market, and reforming the rundale land system among the tenantry. His efforts were credited with preventing deaths from famine in the area, though the elderly and infants still died prematurely from scant food.

    Read the passage

    Now, in 1850, he writes, " Say that no person died of famine at Gweedore, though many of the aged and infants, from being scantily fed, died earlier than otherwise they would, as well as from change of diet ; also that the people are reviving in a great degree, from the potatoe having held out this year."

    Lord Greorge Hill is an Irishman of the Hillsborough family, in the county Down, brother to the late and uncle to the present Marquis of Downshire, a true Irishman^ who lives and acts for his country.

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 5

    As the companion tells it

    Close to Gweedore, Lord George Hill bought over 23,000 acres in 1838 and reformed the rundale system, built a corn store, and established a market. By 1850 he wrote that no person died of famine, though the aged and infants died earlier than they would have from scant food and change of diet. Hill was of the Hillsborough family in County Down, brother to the late and uncle to the present Marquis of Downshire, called "a true Irishman who lives and acts for his country."

45. Burial of Miss Wilson among shipwrecked sailors

    Erris · townland · Mayo

    Miss Wilson, an accomplished woman who had survived shipwreck and traveled widely, found where seventeen shipwrecked sailors had been buried on the Erris coast and asked to be buried near them; she died a few months later and was interred beside the sailors as she wished.

    Read the passage

    her manuscripts in hands who were not to publish them till after her death. On that bleak coast she had found where a company of seventeen shipwrecked sailors had been buried, in a mound, and she had requested to lie near their resting-place. She took me to walk, and showed me the forbidding-looking spot. I could scarcely think her sincere, but she assured me that it was a lovely spot to her. She was then perhaps not yet fifty, and why she should think of soon dying and lying there I could not tell; but the intelligent and accomplished Miss Wilson died in a few months after, in the full hope of a happy immortality, and was buried with the shipwrecked sailors on that rocky coast.

    " She sleeps in imenvied repose, and I would not wake her."

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 9

46. Church Collectors Seize Quaker's Chairs in Cork

    Cork · townland · Cork · 1848

    In the summer of 1848 in Cork, a member of the Society of Friends had a set of chairs seized by church tithe collectors, who had reportedly taken his chairs in successive years before.

    Read the passage

    felt as severely, and by many traced as clearly, as 'Nvlien the hand was more tangible. In the summer of 1848, in the city of Cork, one man belonging to the Society of Friends had a good set of chairs takep, which the owner affinned was but a repetition of the Stame proceeding?, the Church coUeqtors having a peculiar fancy for his chairs ; they had taken many sets in yearly succession. Now while all this is in progress in that country, talk not so loudly of popish heresy being the root of all the evil there. First, make the gospel tree, which was planted eighteen hundred years ago, on the Mount of Olives, bear a little fruit, pluck a few fresh boughs from its neglected branches, and -kindly present them to these popish seared consciences, and see and mark well the result. If the book called the

    m

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 25

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, in the summer of 1848, a man belonging to the Society of Friends had a good set of chairs seized by Church collectors. The owner said it was nothing new. They had taken many sets from him in yearly succession before. The collectors, it seems, had what the source calls a peculiar fancy for his chairs. The writer of the passage uses this story to push back against those who blamed Catholic faith for Ireland's troubles, arguing that the real test was whether those who claimed the gospel could themselves bear its fruit.

47. The Solitary Grave of Charles Wolfe at Cove

    Cobh · townland · Cork · 1823

    Charles Wolfe, author of the famous poem on the burial of Sir John Moore, was buried in a humble, detached grave built into the wall of a roofless, crumbling church at Cove, accessible only by climbing a ladder over the wall. Weeds and fallen stones from the ruin had nearly concealed his epitaph.

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    Wolfe was not among them, his was a bed detached, and confined within the wall of one comer of the church, with a humble flat stone over his breast. The roof of

    THE FAMINE IN IRELAND. 265

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 23

48. The Undying Fish of the Pigeon Hole

    Cong · townland · Mayo

    At the Pigeon Hole cave in Cong, a legend was told that the fish inhabiting the underground pool had lived there since its discovery without multiplying or decreasing. One fish was said to have once been caught and put on a gridiron to broil, but escaped back into the water, forever bearing the marks on its ribs.

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    These caused great excitement among the troop that had followed us, a legend being told, that the fish in this pool had lived there ever since its discovery, without multiplying or decreasing ; these patriarchs consequently are of very ancient date ; and a young lad told us that one of these fathers had been caught, and put upon a gridiron to broil, but made his escape into the water, and has now the marks upon his ribs, so that from age to age he has been traced ; but he can never be caught, nor can any of his comrades be induced to nibble a bait. The fish had not been seen for a long time, and the company and curate were highly rejoiced that these black gentlemen should come out to salute us. The river after passing this eddy flows rapidly through a fearful cavern, arched over with black stones, many of which seem ta have tumbled down, and lay piled along through the dark chamber ; an old woman, for many a year, had been the keeper of this cavern, and with a bundle of dried rushes lighted, she led the visitors on, showing a lofty ceiling of stone, cut in the most fantastical shapes. The fearful slippery passage, over slimy and uneven rocks tumbled and piled together, the music of the water hastening away to hide itself under the earth again, the grand dome of black stone, and the graceful curtains of the ivy hanging and swinging at ease, all lighted up by the glaring torch, made an underground picture sublime, terrific, and beautiful in the extreme. This profitable estate is now in possession of the granddaughter of the lately deceased inheritor ; and the elasticity of the young

    216 ANNALS OF THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 16

49. The Accidental Explosion of Doona Castle

    Doona · townland · Mayo

    At Doona Castle, a christening celebration was underway nearby when a waiting-boy sent for turf dropped his torch among a dry heap piled in the castle, setting fire to casks of contraband spirits stored within. The resulting explosion terrified the revelers, who fled in terror, leaving the castle in ruins ever since.

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    Not a century ago, the christening of a farmer's child was in progress one night in a house near by — the waiting-boy was sent to get a fresh supply of turf — ^he dropped his torch of bogwood among the dry heap, which was piled in the castle, which so heated the walls that they crackled and tumbled, and in their fall

    196 ANNALS OF THE

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog

50. The Stone of John the Priest-Killer

    near Partry · townland · Mayo

    Near Partra, on solitary ground once celebrated for its history, stands a stone raised in memory of the death of a man known as John the 'priest killer.' The author passed this monument during an excursion through the Joyce country borderlands.

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    Skibbereen. Eleven miles from Castlebar opened a bright spot of taste — a glebe-house and tidy new chapel, which this indefatigable curate had built, in spite of all poverty. In the chapel were a few half-dead children huddled upon the floor, some around the altar, with their writing-books upon the steps for desks, without table or benches. These the curate had gathered among the starving, for the sake of the black bread, which kept them barely alive. The neighborhood abounds in novelties, strange and romantic, but most of them must be passed over, to leave room for details of the people. This indefatigable man had caused a fever shed to be erected, on a bog bordering upon the Lake of Musk, where pure air is circulating, and a snug cottage stands near, in which the matron who keeps the hospital resides. Thirty invalids were here, mostly sick from the effects of hunger, with swollen legs, many of them past all hope. Far away from any inhabitant, this hospital, cottage, and their mmates stood, struggling to keep up the dying flame of life, only to suffer fresh and hopeless troubles. Solitary as this region everywhere is, it was once celebrated ground. That day's excursion to me was full of strange scenes and strange anecdotes. Here stood the stone raised in memory of the death of John, the " priest killer ;" here is the site of an ancient abbey, but twelve feet wide ; here, on the borders of the lake, is an anvil belonging to a forgo, which is of such weight that it has never been raised from the bed into which it has sunk, and wlicre it is supposed to have lain for centuries.

    FAMINE IN IRELAND. 209

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 16

51. A Quaker Funeral and Burial Ground in Cork

    Cork · townland · Cork

    The narrator witnessed a plain, dignified Quaker funeral procession through Cork, ending at a quiet burial ground of grassy hillocks without headstones. The coffin of an aged woman was lowered in solemn silence after readings and prayer.

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    Not stopping to inquire the name or age of the deceased, or who would accompany me, I crossed the street and joined the procession. Like the burial in the city of Nain eighteen hundred years ago, *' much people of the city" were there. A mile or more through the town, gave time for that reflection so suitable and profitable when the soul is necessarily summoned to the face of that " King of Terrors," and there interrogated as to its present state and future destiny. Slowly and silently the entrance to that inclosure, where the dead were congregated, was opened and passed ; and as with the pen of a diamond was that panorama impressed on my eye and heart* It was a square of smooth green, with the exception of the unpretending hillocks, which without a stone told that the dead lay there. The whole inclosure was surrounded by trees of rich summer foliage ; these, as they waved gracefully over the wall, shed a trembling shadow upon the emerald covering of the beds of the sleeping, and the still house of death was quietly approached, and every member of that Society sat down together to this mourning feast, and there in solenm sweet silence waited to hear what God would say. The narrow bed was open before them — the plain coffin that

    FAMINE IN IRELAND. 279

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 24

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here is a Quaker burial ground, a quiet square of smooth green surrounded by trees. A narrator during the famine crossed the street and joined a funeral procession, not knowing the name or age of the deceased, an aged woman. Much people of the city walked with her, a mile or more through Cork, in slow silence. The burial ground had no headstones, only unpretending grassy hillocks that told where the dead lay. Trees waved over the wall, shedding trembling shadow on the green. The members of the Society sat down together and waited in solemn sweet silence to hear what God would say. The narrow bed was open before them, and the plain coffin was lowered.

52. Death of an English Gentleman near Gweedore

    near Gweedore · townland · Donegal

    An English gentleman had settled near Gweedore for its scenery and peaceful retirement, beloved by the local peasantry. He died a few weeks after meeting the author in Derry, leaving a sad void among those who knew him.

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    Two miles from Gweedore an English gentleman had fixed a residence on the woody side of a hill, with a fine lake at a little distance, who was attracted there by the beauty 'of the scenery, and a desire to enjoy the evening of his days in a romantic peaceful retirement among a peasantry which pleased him ; and his wife and daughters were quite an acquisition to the scattered intelligent class, which dotted the wild scenery there. His family were then in England, and when I met him a few weeks after in Derry, he said, " I waited all day to see you, but when you come again we shall not be disappointed." He died a few weeks after, and left a sad breach in the hearts of many.

    This little incident is named to show how much the English, who go to Ireland because they admire the country, and justly appreciate the people, are beloved. They are always mentioned with the greatest admira-

    Project Gutenberg #annalsfamineini00nichgoog, Chapter 5

    As the companion tells it

    Somewhere around here, an English gentleman had built himself a home on the woody side of a hill, with a fine lake not far off. He came for the beauty of the scenery and to enjoy the evening of his days in romantic peaceful retirement among a peasantry that pleased him. His wife and daughters were quite an acquisition to the scattered intelligent people who dotted the wild landscape. When the author met him a few weeks later in Derry, he said, 'I waited all day to see you, but when you come again we shall not be disappointed.' He died a few weeks after that, leaving a sad breach in the hearts of many. The author names this little incident to show how much the English who go to Ireland because they admire the country and appreciate the people are beloved, and always mentioned with the greatest admiration.