Riotous Assemblies

by William Sheehan

  The presence of women in the riot of 1840 left an impression on many local figures of authority, particularly John Prendergast Vereker, a member of the corporation. At a public meeting after the riot he suggested that the disturbance had little to do with men and that the blame rested almost entirely on women. He saw little that could remedy the demands of ‘10,000 women and children’ who obviously could not all be employed. Though he was shouted down, he was accurate in identifying the role of ‘disorderly women’ in food riots, reflecting Bohstedt’s contention that the pace of industrialisation had left women with a pre-industrial mindset, at odds with that of their male counterparts, leaving them unable to comprehend or cope with the fluctuations of the market – a prime example of how the ‘moral economy was qualitatively as well as quantitatively at odds with the market economy’.23 Whether such a theory can be applied in Limerick is unclear: there is scant evidence there of the male workforce engaging in new work practices and industrialisation; in fact, the only workers in 1840s Limerick who were accustomed to a factory environment were female lace-factory workers who, numbering over 1,000, constituted a very large proportion of the female workforce and quite a large part of the city’s entire workforce.24 Many of the female rioters in 1859 were described as young, and one witness described them as being ‘mainly factory girls’.25

  Following the 1859 election, members of the parliamentary inquiry sought to learn what proportion of the riotous crowd was made up of women, a line of questioning they used with everyone who had directly witnessed the riots. The questioning was partly inspired by the desire to portray the crowd as being composed of non-combatants or, at least, composed of combatants who were not much of a threat – an idea that one constable quickly countered by replying that women could be just as capable of inflicting damage. The questioning also seems to have been inspired by a Victorian fascination with the idea of the Amazonian rioter. The local media in Limerick certainly seemed to share this fascination and reported in detail – with plenty of stock references to Semiramis and Boudica – how one pre-election mob, 300 strong, was led by a woman in 1858. The woman in question, named Clancy, seems to have been active in 1859 as well, and was offering her services as a combatant to the agent of Spaight (the Conservative candidate) in return for financial remuneration. Indeed, one of Spaight’s agents actually hired a bodyguard of a dozen or so women during the 1858 election.26

  Many riots, on the other hand, seem to have had no female participants – for instance, the 1820 United Trades attacks and the 1869 and 1876 advanced nationalist attacks on local constitutionalists. Perhaps not coincidentally, these riots exhibited the highest degree of premeditation and involved combatants drawn from outside the regional/parochial communities. In these cases, solidarity was based on occupational and political allegiance, respectively, two communities of interest that appear, in these specific cases, to have been male only in composition.

  The appearance of figures of authority could often crucially affect a riot, serving to either catalyse or soothe the rioters, depending on circumstance. In the 1840 food riot, where rioters exhibited a belief that they were acting rightfully (a belief common to many food rioters), the appearance of city councillors and bank officials temporarily placated the stressed crowd. On the other hand, the constabulary and military often inflamed the crowd and many accounts of riots stress that the stone-throwing increased dramatically when the constabulary appeared. The military were used sparingly, such was their ability to inflame the situation; during periods of prolonged disturbance, such as the Parnellite riots, they were confined to barracks.27 Situations usually worsened if the constabulary took an offensive rather than defensive approach; eyewitnesses of the 1859 riot described how the violence escalated dramatically when the police arrested a young rioter, after which the police were subjected to such an intense barrage of missiles that they resorted to firing into the crowd.28

  Open, public and, at times, ostentatious loyalty to the Catholic church and clergy was extremely evident in Limerick throughout this period, giving the impression that the clergy had complete control of the populace. Riots, a crucial means of gauging this assertion, show clearly the extent to which the clergy were able to control the working classes when tensions ran high. The riots engaged in by the United Trades perhaps showed the most blatant disregard for clerical authority and disdain for authority at all levels.29 Workmen combinations were the closest urban equivalent of the agrarian secret societies and were accorded pariah status by the press, the clergy and the authorities in general, but even round denunciations by the Catholic bishop of the day did not stop the disturbances.30

  In later riots, disregard for clerical authority was even clearer. John Daly, instigator of two large riots in 1869 and 1876, was predictably condemned by the clergy throughout his Fenian career, and in later years he identified himself as an ‘Irish Catholic’ rather than ‘Roman Catholic’.31 Tension remained between him and the clergy even after his entry into constitutional politics, marked by his election to the office of mayor.32 Although a number of factors influenced these two riots and though it is true that not all the Catholic clergy condemned the Fenians explicitly, it is difficult to imagine that the fifty or sixty rioters who attacked the Home Rulers were not completely aware that they were acting contrary to the wishes of the clergy.33 This is not to suggest that they were all consciously breaking with the church; they were most likely making ‘a mental distinction between the Church and the Clergy’.34

  By the time of the Parnellite riots, many more were making qualified judgements on the role of the clergy in political matters and the maxim ‘Religion from Rome and Politics from Home’ now adorned banners in public demonstrations.35 Many of the incidents surrounding the Parnellite riots suggest a deeper schism between sections of local population and the local clergy, accompanied by declining respect for priests and church ceremonies. Redemptorist priests were particularly prone to popular criticism in this period and one, Fr Bannon, was even pejoratively labelled an ‘Englishman’ for his criticism of Parnellites. Bannon described how the boys’ brigade of the Holy Family confraternity, composed of groups from a number of parishes, was constantly disrupted by violent internal disturbances between youths from different parochial units; in one particularly bad riot in 1895, combatants followed an opponent into church to assault him, before a curate intervened.36 During riots in 1892, the St John’s Temperance Rooms were damaged by the overwhelmingly Parnellite parishioners of St John’s.37 Though the Parnellites were keen to portray the anti-Parnellite voters as clerically dominated and ignorant, and there were loud chants of ‘clerical dictation’ during the 1892 municipal election for Abbey Ward (won by an anti-Parnellite), there is little sign of real clerical political authority.38 In the anti-Parnellite community of St Mary’s parish there is no indication that their political allegiance resulted from clerical pressure; in contrast to 1858–9, there were no city priests involved in election nominations in 1892 or 1895. The only reports of clerical activity were of priests seeking to quell riots.

  Many riots, rather than demonstrating adherence to the Catholic clergy generally, instead demonstrate loyalty to individual, charismatic priests. In the 1848 and 1858 riots, mobs exhibited loyalty to some priests and contempt for others, further complicating the issue. Fr John Kenyon, much abused in his lifetime before being eulogised retrospectively by nationalists and republicans, was an extremely divisive figure in Limerick politics. Born in Limerick, he kept in touch with his native city throughout his career and was not afraid of taking part in local politics. He earned the scorn of many in the city when he nominated the Irish Confederation candidate Richard O’Gorman in the election of 1847, when the two O’Connellite candidates were set to be returned unopposed. The fact that the election took place shortly after the death of O’Connell, with his son John O’Connell the main candidate, elicited further contempt.39 He nevertheless faced down the election mob, won the praise and admiration of many and remained the patron pr
iest of the local Sarsfield Confederation branch. He was opposed by a number of the city clergy, however, particularly Fr Richard Baptist O’Brien who rallied those opposed to the Young Irelanders and was, perhaps unwittingly, instrumental in causing the riot in 1848.40 The district where he received the most devotion and loyalty was notable for its poverty in the 1830s and its people were exceptionally reliant on charitable donations which were, in the most part, distributed by the Catholic clergy.41

  Individual Limerick clergy were politically active throughout the 1850s and during the three elections of 1858–9 they escorted voters to the polls, publicly harangued those who differed politically and tended to inflame the passions of the public, which added to the risk of riot.42 One priest in particular, Fr Moloney, was accused by the Conservative candidate, Spaight, of actively encouraging riot, even of leading a mob and later smiling gleefully when the mob was at its most disorderly.43 However, in the majority of the riots the role played by the clergy was mainly conciliatory, particularly in the 1877 and 1881 anti-military riots. In the 1877 riot two Jesuit priests played an important role in placating a section of the riotous mob and were instrumental in saving the lives of a small group of soldiers.44 In 1881 several priests sought to calm the crowds, though with limited success.

  Along with the existence of recreational violence, the phenomenon of drink-fuelled violence clouds any satisfactory analysis of the motivation of rioters. In general, alcohol seems to have acted as a catalyst and never appears to have been the principal factor initiating riots. In the case of the 1828–31 riots it certainly seems to have been a major factor, with the riots stemming from a disagreement in a public house. In 1877 a number of small incidents preceding the main riot occurred in and around pubs, and during the main riot the soldiers were reported as being somewhat intoxicated.45 In the 1848 riot, which was principally political, drink played a major part.

  Sectarian tensions also fuelled rioting in Limerick city. A religious riot, as defined by Natalie Zemon Davis, consists of ‘any violent action, with words or weapons, undertaken against religious targets by people who were not acting officially and formally as agents of political and ecclesiastical authority’.46 Limerick’s religious demography differed from that of Dublin and, even more so, the urban centres of Ulster, in that it lacked a sizeable Protestant working-class element. There were some non-Catholics among Limerick artisans at this time, but generally they are visible only sporadically as individuals.47 The one exception to this was a small group of anti-repeal, allegedly Protestant, cordwainers who staged a small demonstration in 1830.48 Given this religious demographic, we can largely disregard sectarianism as a motivation in rioting, though it must not be ruled out completely. Certainly one riot in particular, the 1877 military versus civilian riot, had a strong sectarian component, given that it was sparked by anti-Catholic comments passed by the off-duty members of the 90th regiment stationed in the Castle barracks. Comparisons can be made with the situation in Ulster where pejorative remarks about religious belief could spark intensely violent riots. The fact that the military continued to make anti-Catholic remarks during the fighting magnifies the sectarian element to this riot. However, there were other and more pertinent factors, namely distrust of the outsider, submerged dislike of the military in general and perhaps a nascent sense of nationalism typically manifesting itself through violence against the army.

  The 1858–9 election riots also displayed a sectarian undercurrent. During the second 1858 election the majority of the local Catholic clergy supported the Protestant Conservative James Spaight, though the bishop tentatively supported the Catholic Liberal, John Ball. The Catholic press did not hide its concern over the support for Spaight, commenting that ‘Protestant constituents do not accept Catholic candidates’ and, while acknowledging the patriotism of individual Protestants like Tom Steele, declaring that the electors of Limerick were entitled to one or two representatives of their own faith.49 The sectarian dimension of the election is clear in the pattern of attacks on polling booths. According to James McMahon, a solicitor, there were several polling booths, but the courthouse booth, set aside for freemen voters (many, though not all, of whom were Protestant and/or Conservative), seems to have been the only one attacked. McMahon himself, who voted and campaigned for Spaight, was subject to sectarian abuse, being called a souper and a blue-gut – terms reserved for converts from Catholicism to Protestantism – while one voter called him ‘a black orange Protestant’ and threatened that ‘all his kind would be run into the Shannon’.50

  Some rioting was linked to occupational identity. As in other Irish towns and cities the Limerick trades had, since the early eighteenth century, been organised in guilds that, despite mutual rivalries, saw themselves as parts of one skilled artisan community.51 In Limerick the greatest examples of rioting inspired by occupational allegiance were the 1820 United Trades riots, which differed significantly from all other riots in two ways: an apparent absence of alcohol and the violence being limited to specific targets, with little wanton destruction or recreational violence. The trade riots shared many similarities with the agrarian Rockite insurrection rocking the county at the time; indeed, early trade combinations have often been compared to agrarian agitators, because they both temporarily united rival groups in a common resistance to unwelcome economic change.52 Like many agrarian agitators, the United Trades sought to make their law the law of the land, seeking to control the local labour market and eradicate unaffiliated workers (referred to in this period as ‘colts’). Like the agrarian groups the United Trades present clear evidence that a section of the populace could and did organise themselves while excluding the ‘political’ class, clergy and other figures of authority, and could mobilise in crowds that numbered in the hundreds. In the case of the United Trades of the early 1820s there is evidence of a central governing structure, unlike the agrarian groups, who were often like a many-headed hydra with countless Captain Rocks and Captain Fear-noughts existing simultaneously. Both the agrarian groups, particularly those pre-1790, and the United Trades were largely retrogressive rather than radical, aiming to recreate some half-imagined utopia of yesterday that had been eradicated by new economic practices. Thus the Limerick United Trades specifically aimed to re-establish aspects of the guilds that had fallen into disuse, and in this way they saw themselves as upholders rather than breakers of the law. Their riotous activities, therefore, as well as attacking unaffiliated workers and their employers, also targeted anyone who did not financially contribute to the organisation and certain individuals who dealt in goods that were deemed foreign (in many cases goods manufactured in Bandon were deemed foreign).53

  Territorialism was also a factor in fomenting riot. In Limerick most of those involved in rioting came from working-class communities in certain parts of the city, particularly enclaves where rural immigrants clustered in the parishes of St Mary, St John and St Munchin, Boherbouy and Carey’s Road. These areas were populated by rural immigrants arriving from the 1770s onwards and it is certainly possible that their community identity sprang from families sharing a similar place of origin in the rural hinterland. My great-great-grandfather came to Limerick City as an infant from the Cappamore area of County Limerick in 1847 with his two aunts and settled in what was, according to oral testimony, a sort of shanty town in the Blackboy Turnpike area, where the road from Cappamore entered the city.54 There the family most likely lived with other immigrants from the same region as themselves, thus helping to mould the bonds of this new urban community. In a similar way the Boherbouy–Carey’s Road area may have originally been defined by people from rural west Limerick, while St Munchin’s and St Mary’s were receiving areas for those from Clare.55

  Physical barriers, in particular the Abbey and Shannon rivers, also helped to define communities, notably in the case of St Mary’s parish, on an island formed by the Shannon and Abbey rivers, where a strong sense of community identity existed well into the twentieth century. St John’s and St Mary’s,
broadly synonymous with Englishtown and Irishtown, were collectively known as the Oldtown by the mid-nineteenth century. They had become almost exclusively working-class communities by the 1820s as the wealthier inhabitants were siphoned off to the prosperous Newtown, which acted as a barrier of sorts between the Oldtown and the working-class community that grew up around the Boherbouy suburb.

  The political involvement of the population was already considerable before 1820, but further developed during the Catholic emancipation campaign in the first few incarnations of the Catholic Association. The marching route generally included Nelson Street, Wickham Street, High Street, Mungret Street, Broad Street, Mary Street, Nicholas Street and Castle Street, thus linking the three principal working-class areas. George Street, axis of the prosperous Newtown, was used less frequently. For the most part these overwhelmingly Catholic areas were politically united, but whenever this unity was shattered then the divisions between communities became apparent, and the instances of mass violence allow the observer to calculate exactly how many communities there were and what communal ties were most important. Regional attachment was certainly a factor in forming these communities, two of which – St John’s and St Mary’s – were roughly defined by parish boundaries. The river acted as a clear and unequivocal boundary between them, and it is not surprising that the two bridges were scenes of a number of riots.