At the next level, we find serious but more short-term riots in the South Dublin,28 Cork, Waterford and Clonmel unions in the early 1860s.29 The date of the riots is interesting. Again, it is the period of the agricultural depression, but – and this is particularly relevant with the young women in the South Dublin Union – it also corresponds with the coming-of-age of children who had been admitted to the workhouses during the Great Famine, when they may have lost one or both parents. It is also worth noting that these four unions were among the nine largest unions in Ireland; it appears likely that the size of the workhouse and the difficulty in managing large groups of paupers was a contributing factor to workhouse riots.
Thirdly, we have one-off cases of resistance to specific actions, such as that in Balrothery in 1873.30 This was a spontaneous response by mothers to a decision by the workhouse officials to take their children away from them, and occurred in a workhouse where contention was otherwise largely absent. This particular example was located purely by chance while going through the minute books of the Balrothery workhouse for a different purpose and it seems likely that many more such occurrences are hidden away in union minute books and local newspaper reports. A dispute in the Belfast workhouse in late 1869 may also be put in this category. Six Catholic men refused to break stones as part of their workhouse duties on the basis that the day in question was a Roman Catholic church holiday. They were charged with insubordinate conduct and sentenced to fourteen days in gaol. Finally, we have a number of one-off incidents such as cases of fire and theft. The specific reasons for these actions are often unclear from the reports and it is not evident whether they are related to broader grievances.
The South Dublin Union case is clearly unique. However, the case of the Waterford Union is perhaps more typical of what may have occurred in a number of unions, only coming to outside attention because a long-term pattern of ‘dogged resistance’ ultimately crossed the line into violence. The Waterford board in the early 1860s was, to say the least, a fractious one and this may have contributed to trouble in the workhouse. The appointment of a new master, Mr Ryan, in June 1861 appears to have led to an attempt to impose stricter discipline on the inmates. Ryan reported that he had found that about fifteen to twenty able-bodied men and thirty to forty able-bodied women were taking part in ‘dogged resistance to those in authority’.31 This involved shouting at meals, insolent dancing and singing in wards at night, and a disorderly manner in coming into the dining-hall. The involvement of some of the inmates in producing muslin work also appears to have been an issue.32
In August 1861, a fight broke out between the assistant master Mr Clery and a number of inmates, and Clery was subsequently convicted of assaulting one of them, Mary Crowley. The Poor Law commission ordered an investigation by the local Poor Law inspector, whose report concluded that Clery had injured the woman when he himself had been attacked, but regretted the use of violence against a female inmate. In September 1861, a discussion at the board of guardians suggested that the workhouse was being ‘kept in hot water’ by about eight to ten women and four or five men, leading to repeated rows. The chairman directed the master to bring the names of refractory paupers before the board. The following week four ‘incorrigible’ boys, who were in the habit of going in and out of the workhouse at their pleasure, were brought before the board. They were expelled.
At the end of December 1861, the master was attacked at mass by three young male inmates. Their leader – a John Sullivan – was subsequently charged before the quarter sessions with assault occasioning actual bodily harm. As the reporter of the Waterford Mail commented, ‘the very spirit of evil seemed to lurk in his half-defiant gaze’.33 It appears there was a charge against Sullivan – whom several witnesses referred to as a boy – at the time for insubordinate conduct in the workhouse. Sullivan, whose only evidence was to the effect that he wished he had taken the master’s life, was sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude, afterwards mitigated to three years. He had been convicted already five times for similar offences.
In contrast to the larger-scale actions, the workhouse riots tended to be much more reactive and, with certain exceptions like Balrothery, not to have clearly defined goals. Again in contrast to the larger protests outside the workhouse, the response to small-scale internal riots was almost entirely confined to repression. Almost by definition – because these were much more likely to be reported in the newspapers or commented on – the small-scale riots that are recorded tended to involve violence, including attacks on workhouse officials as in South Dublin, Cork and Waterford. In these cases, the assailants tended to receive significant prison terms. Another response was to move troublemakers to a separate refractory ward, as with the young women in the South Dublin Union. Generally speaking, there is little indication that the workhouse protests led to improvements in the conditions although, as with so many aspects of workhouse life, it is difficult or impossible to know precisely what went on day by day.
From what we do know, the people involved in workhouse riots appear to have been young and able-bodied. Women were very strongly represented in protests, though men were likelier to be involved in violence against the person. One strand of the South Dublin Union resistance appears to have been exclusively female. Reports indicate that women were also involved in the South Dublin riots in 1862, though not in the more serious violence.34 Similarly, in Cork, even though those ultimately convicted of riot were men, the protests seem to have begun in the female ward where the inmates objected to being given stale Indian meal for breakfast.35 A number of women were committed to the workhouse cells for offences, and the immediate cause of the riot was an attempt by the male inmates to free these women. In age, the women in the South Dublin riots were in their teens and early twenties; Sullivan, who attacked the master of the Waterford workhouse, was referred to by several witnesses at his trial as a boy; those charged with riotous conduct at Cork workhouse in March 1863 were aged sixteen to twenty-two.36
The cases examined here were all found in relevant files in the chief secretary’s office, in the archives of key officials at this period (in particular Thomas Larcom, under-secretary 1853–68), in the reports of the Poor Law commission and other relevant parliamentary papers, or in a sampling of local newspapers. A comprehensive study of collective action over the Poor Law would need to examine the minute books of all Irish unions (most of which do have surviving minute books) and all local newspapers (many of which reported meetings of boards of guardians in considerable detail – often in more detail than that contained in the minutes). Such a study might, at a conservative estimate, take twenty years.
What might such a study find? My best guess is that, though similar large protests may well have taken place in other areas, even a comprehensive study would probably not dramatically increase the number of examples. In the case of small-scale protests, the long-standing dispute in the South Dublin Union is exceptional and there is no indication that any similar protest existed elsewhere in this period. As for the smaller-scale riots in Cork and Waterford, it is possible that such riots occurred in other unions or other periods.37 It is very likely that the sort of ‘dogged resistance to authority’ reported at Waterford occurred in many other workhouses. Such relatively minor protests would not be likely to feature in any of the sources examined here – even the minute books – until there was an outbreak of violence.38 Likewise, one-off events like the protests in Balrothery and Belfast probably occurred in many other places.
In the period from the Famine to the Land War, it is clear that there was a high degree of collective activity, including riots of various kinds. In addition to collective action related to the Fenian movement, there were three main kinds of crowd activity:
religious marches and riots, including sectarian riots in Belfast39 and the Gavazzi riots;40
electoral activity and riots related to parliamentary elections;41
political protests and riots.
There were other significant
riots that may or may not have had a political motivation. For example, shortly after the Cork workhouse riot, a much more extensive riot took place in Cork city after the celebrations of the Prince of Wales’ wedding.42 At times, there was also some collective activity by labourers in relation to conditions of employment, though this appears to have been limited in extent.43 Even if the events identified in this chapter understate the numbers that probably occurred, it appears that large-scale collective activity in relation to the Poor Law made up only a very small proportion of total collective activity in Ireland at the time. Unfortunately, though there are isolated references to riots in prisons and other institutions, it is impossible to compare the extent of such riots with those in workhouses.
It is difficult to make any comparison with the earlier period. In the years from 1838 to 1846, the main collective activity in relation to the Poor Law, albeit not by the poor, appears to have been resistance to paying rates.44 Collective activity by the poor was common during the Great Famine, but circumstances then were so exceptional that it cannot reasonably be compared to the post-Famine period in any meaningful way. In the Land War period, there was a dramatic increase in collective activity, particularly in relation to land agitation.45 In the decade from 1879 on, as Feingold has shown, the Irish tenantry engaged in a struggle to take control of the Poor Law boards of guardians from the landlords, and they succeeded to a significant extent in doing so.46 However, my researches do not indicate that the Land War and subsequent period saw any significant increase in collective activity by the poor themselves. Of course the tenantry fighting for control of the Poor Law institutions were less well-off than the landlords, but they were not generally poor. My researches have located a number of demonstrations and marches similar to the large-scale protests described here.47 In addition, there appear to have been extensive labour disputes about wages and conditions of employment on public relief works in the west of Ireland in 1891. Finally I have found instances of labourers’ protests against a board of guardians’ activities (or inactivity) in the building of labourers’ cottages under the Labourers (Ireland) Act 1883.48
Clark, in his study of the Land War, identified four main types of activity engaged in by what he calls the challenging collectivity.49 These were open-air meetings or public demonstrations, the boycott, assistance to tenants and violence. As we have seen, large-scale protests against the Poor Law in the period from the Famine to the Land War were all of the first type. The boycott had not yet generally developed as a method of collective activity; by definition the poor did not have the financial resources to assist particular families; and violence was rarely used in collective activity concerning the Poor Law (other than in limited cases in workhouse riots). However, the public demonstrations that Clark describes as a key type of activity during the Land War were very similar to the forms of activity described earlier.50 Indeed to a large extent they represented the poor person’s equivalent of the relief meetings that the bourgeoisie frequently held in disadvantaged areas to raise relief or launch public works. Clark considers it likely that more public meetings were held during the Land War than in any previous political movement in Ireland: from October 1879 until the end of 1880 the constabulary reported an average of forty-six land meetings a month – a striking contrast with the small number of protests identified here.
The protests by workhouse inmates were much more reactive and without clear motives. They were, in general, a reaction to the deliberately restrictive way in which workhouses were run. In contrast to the flexible response to protest without, the response to protest within was almost always repressive, including workhouse punishments, special probationary wards, expulsion and/or refusal of re-admittance, and criminal prosecution and gaol. Overall, it is clear that collective activity by the poor in relation to the Poor Law made up a relatively small proportion of all collective activity in this period.
APPENDIX 1: SHORT DESCRIPTION OF LARGE-SCALE OUTDOOR PROTESTS
In Belfast in April 1858, a ‘body of men’ approached the Daily Mercury newspaper office complaining of ‘utter destitution’ and claiming that various relief funds had been exhausted or had ceased. A few days later a meeting of the working classes with a ‘very large attendance’ took place in the Corn Exchange. It was chaired by one Thomas Lloyd, described as a ‘tradesman’ or ‘working man’, and addressed by a number of men described as labourers.
Sources: Daily Mercury, Belfast Newsletter, April 1858.
In Limerick in January 1861, a crowd estimated at up to 800 or 900 assembled and marched through the city. One of the leaders of the march was described as a shoemaker. The cause of the march was attributed to a lack of employment and food, and the crowd demanded work. The march was, in the main, peaceful, though there was one minor outbreak of violence when a baker’s window was broken and some loaves of bread stolen. Those responsible were immediately arrested by the Royal Irish Constabulary. The response to the march was a combination of sixty police reinforcements, prison sentences (of between seven and fourteen days) for those involved in the theft and the establishment of a relief fund and public works.
Sources: Limerick Reporter, February 1861; NLI Larcom MS 7783.
In Westport in June 1863, a local Roman Catholic curate led a group of between 200 and 400 ‘hungry paupers’ on a march to the workhouse to seek outdoor relief. The cause of the march was lack of food. Outdoor relief was refused, though relief in the house was offered (but taken up by eighty-five persons only). A relief fund and public works were established.
Sources: Mayo Constitution and the Connacht Patriot and General Advertiser, June/July 1863.
In Galway in January 1865 an estimated 200 men and boys held a meeting and march around Galway city, including a march to the workhouse. The leaders of the march were described as ‘local petty agitators amongst the mechanics’ and the cause attributed was lack of employment. The crowd sought work and outdoor relief (which was refused, though relief in the house was offered). In addition to the offer of relief in the house, which was not widely taken up, 400 military were drafted in and a relief fund and public works were established.
Sources: NLI Larcom MS 7609; NAI CSORP/1865/1141; Galway County Archives, Galway union minute book, January 1865.
APPENDIX 2: SHORT DESCRIPTION OF INTERNAL PROTESTS
A. Long-term resistance
The case of the young women in South Dublin workhouse would appear to be in a class of its own; it has been discussed in more detail by Burke and Clark.51 It lasted from about 1857 to about 1862 and, in total, involved over fifty young women in their late teens or early twenties. The resistance involved fires, riots, destructions of workhouse property and assaults; those participating were sent to gaol on several occasions. The precise causes and the subsequent histories of the women deserve more detailed study.
B. Major riots
I identified a number of serious workhouse riots, including riots in the South Dublin Union in November 1862, in Cork workhouse in March 1863 and in Waterford workhouse in 1862, with low-level resistance eventually leading to assaults.
C. Resistance to specific events
Examples include resistance by women to an attempt to take their children away from them and place them in a separate ward, in the Balrothery Union in March 1873, leading to minor assaults on the officials involved; and resistance by six Roman Catholic men in Belfast workhouse to being required to work on a Catholic holy day, for which they were sent to gaol for fourteen days.
There can be no doubt that these incidents are indicative of a much wider occurrence of similar events (at least at the lower end of the scale of seriousness). Robins, for example, in his book on pauper children cites a number of incidents of children assaulting a schoolmistress or attempting to set fire to the workhouse.52 The focus has been on collective actions and so no account has been taken of one-off or individual assaults and other actions.
7
RECOVERING THE CARGO OF THE JULIA
Salv
age, law and the killing of ‘wreckers’ in
Conamara in 18731
JOHN CUNNINGHAM
In the early months of 1873, George Bond spent several periods on Lettermullen, an island in the Ceantar na nOileán district of Conamara, in the west of Ireland. A commissioned boatman in the coastguard, he was there to assist a salvage operation. On 11 April 1873, he later deposed, the discovery of a large balk of oak that had been concealed sparked a violent confrontation between local people and the outsiders:
We proceeded to dig up the timber and erected a shears to get the timber out. It was in a field and oats were sown over the timber. We discovered it by means of tuck sticks and a large crowd was present whose behaviour was very violent. They pulled down the shears, threw stones at us and one man drew out his knife and tried to stab F. Garnier ... In spite of all this we took the balk, the crowd saying that if we went into other gardens they would take our lives. The crowd was armed with spades, pitchforks, stones, etc.2
This was by no means the most violent of a series of clashes that took place over a three-month period. In describing these encounters, Bond – and others of the outsiders concerned – represented the Lettermullen islanders as ferocious, volatile and antagonistic to strangers, as ‘natives’ or ‘savages’ who could not be reasoned with and were not amenable to ordinary legal process.3 This was at odds with the impressions formed by other late nineteenth-century visitors to the place. Although the Ceantar na nOileán people were ‘probably the poorest and most primitive in Ireland’, according to the ethnologist Charles Browne who lived among them in 1897, they displayed kindness, patience and honesty. Moreover, he found them to be welcoming to strangers, even if a language barrier and strong personal and community pride made them seem shy and taciturn at first.4 That curious and considerate visitors would get a different reception from that accorded to armed enforcers of the law was to be expected, but was serious conflict inevitable from the moment the Julia and her unaccompanied cargo of timber was washed up on the island?
Riotous Assemblies Page 11