Pathway to Rebellion: E-Book

William Henry

• Herausgeber: Mercier Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 364

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

In 'Pathway to Rebellion' Willie Henry traces the origins of the rebellion of 1916 in Co. Galway back over a century. He argues that the country's rebellious past encouraged the Galway Volunteers to take a stand during the Rising, when many other parts of the country failed to do so. While Galway's people did not make the same blood sacrifice as Dublin, they were not lacking in courage. Many of the men were without arms, while others only had pikes. Nevertheless, they were prepared to fight, although aware that their rebellious actions could mean death in battle or before a firing squad. Despite this they stood by their convictions and showed unquestionable commitment to the idea of a free Ireland. Following the Rising those who were captured were assaulted, subjected to verbal abuse by the public and their captors, and condemned to imprisonment. Some managed to evade capture, but were forced to go on the run. However, in the aftermath of the leaders' executions, public opinion changed dramatically and the traitors of yesterday were suddenly the heroes of today. The homecoming of those who were imprisoned was in total contrast to their departure. The entire story of Galway in 1916 is in this book, making it the definitive story of the rebellion in the west.

Leseprobe

MERCIER PRESS

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© William Henry, 2016

© Preface: Tomás Finn, 2016

ISBN: 978 1 78117 403 6

Epub ISBN: 978 1 78117 404 3

Mobi ISBN: 978 1 78117 405 0

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

Introduction

1 Rebellious Behaviour

2 A Garrison Town

3 The Spread of Resistance

4 Independent Future

5 The Irish Volunteer Force

6 A Divided Force

7 Path to Rebellion

8 A Rebel Call

9 Orders and Countermanding Orders

10 Easter Monday 1916

11 Mobilisation in County Galway

12 Galway City – Swift Action

13 Wednesday’s Actions

14 Galway City – Shelling and Arrests

15 Moyode

16 The Rebels Disband

17 Rebels on the Run

18 Rebel Round-Up

19 Frongoch

20 Loyal to the Crown?

21 Condemnation of the Rebels

22 The Aftermath of the Rebellion

Epilogue

Appendix

Commemoration

Notes

Bibliography

More titles by this author:

A Place in Our Hearts: St Bridget’s Terrace 100

Blood for Blood: The Black and Tan War in Galway

Coffin Ship: Wreck of the Brig St John

Éamonn Ceannt: Supreme Sacrifice (originally published as Supreme Sacrifice: The Story of Éamonn Ceannt 1881–1916)

Famine: Galway’s Darkest Years 1845–1850

Fields of Slaughter: The Battle of Knockdoe 1504

Forgotten Heroes: Galway Soldiers of the Great War

Galway and the Great War

Galway’s Great War Memorial Book 1914–1918

Galway Through Time & Tide, Vols I–IV

Hidden Galway: Gallows, Garrisons and Guttersnipes

Mervue 1955–2003

Role of Honour: The Mayors of Galway City 1485–2001

St Clerans: The Tale of a Manor House

The Galway Arms Golfing Society

The History of Mervue United 1960–2010

The Shimmering Waste: The Life and Times of Robert O’Hara Burke

Tír na nÓg: A New Adventure

For Anne Maria

True Friendship is a Gift from God

Sought by Many

Experienced by Few

Acknowledgements

Thanks to the following people for their support with this book: my wife Noreen, sons Patrick and David, and daughter Lisa. Sincere thanks to Dr Tomás Finn for writing the preface to this book. I would also like to express my grateful appreciation to the National Library of Ireland, Dublin; James Hardiman Library, NUIG; and County Galway Library, Island House. Thanks also to the staff members of the various libraries: Kieran Hoare, Michael Faherty, Marie Boran, Liam Frehan, Gerard Thornton, Maureen Moran and Mary Kavanagh.

To all in the media organisations who have supported my work over the years: the staff members of the Galway Independent, Galway Bay FM, Raidió na Gaeltachta, the Connacht Tribune, The Tuam Herald and the Galway Advertiser. Thanks to all those who gave excellent publicity to this and various other projects: Declan Dooley, Hilary Martyn, Mike Glynn, Judy Murphy, Brendan Carroll, Dave Hickey, Joe O’Shaughnessy, Declan Furey, Stan Shields, Ronnie O’Gorman, Declan Varley, Tom Kenny, Keith Finnegan, Tom Gilmore, Jim Carney, Peadar O’Dowd, James Casserly, David Burke, Des Kelly and Máirtín Tom Sheáinin.

Thanks also to Loretta O’Kelly, Jonie Fallon, Fidelma Holland, Connie Gavin, Brid Ryan, Bridie Connell, Mary O’Malley, Mary Boyle, Mary Melia, Evelyn Flynn, Noel Skehill, Laura Walsh, Brendan Holland, Mona Holland, Luke Silke, Michael Morrissey, David Morrissey, Paul Faller, Ronan Killeen, Finbarr O’Regan, Ambrose Joyce, Tony Claffey, Johnny Molloy, Seán Molloy, Mary McDonnell, Tom and Josephine Leonard, Marie Boran, Professor Padráig Ó Machain, Kathleen Davis, Elizabeth Byrnes, David Henry, Brian Quinn, Seán McDermott, Tom Lenihan, Sergeant Major Richard ‘Dick’ O’Hanlon, Private Padraig McDonnell, Sergeant P. J. Maloney, Mártin Concannon, Aoife Concannon, Sylvester Cassidy, Bernadette Forde, Maryann Vaughan, Dom and Mary Dunleavy and the Killererin Heritage Society.

Sincere thanks the following for all their support: Mary Waller, Mike McDonagh, Karolina Pakos, Tom Small, Dick O’Hanlon, Marita Silke and Anne Maria Furey for proof-reading my book. Special thanks also to Jacqueline O’Brien for her long hours over many years of research and support with this and many other projects.

Sincere thanks also to Mary Feehan and all the staff at Mercier Press for their support and expertise, and for publishing this book.

Preface

On 18 November 2010, following the Irish government’s decision to enter the ‘bailout’, TheIrish Times asked whether it was for ‘this’ that the men of 1916 died. What exactly those individuals did, and how and why they acted, often in ways that were out of sync with those closest to them, are some of the issues considered in Pathway to Rebellion. Immersed as Ireland is in the decade of commemoration and the centenary of 1916, the consideration given to the Rising in Galway, why it occurred and its impact, is timely.

Anniversaries and commemorations are, of course, a key part of the context in which this and other works have appeared. Hitherto, areas outside of Dublin in 1916 have received little attention. One exception is the chapter on the provincial Rising in Charles Townshend’s Easter 1916. Given that the most successful fight, as recounted by Townshend, was the one that took place in Ashbourne, County Meath, the lack of attention given by professional historians to this subject seems unfair. And yet, with the notable exceptions of Meath, Galway and perhaps Wexford, little seems to have happened beyond Dublin. One factor that was common to these places was that they had leaders with the ability to organise their men. However, whereas Richard Mulcahy in Meath recognised the need to take the conflict to the enemy, in Galway Liam Mellows lacked Mulcahy’s authority and tactical awareness. Yet, by comparing these two are we doing a disservice to Mellows and the performance of the rebels in Galway? The failure to land arms in Kerry was critical to the way events unfolded in Galway, as well as in Limerick and Clare. Moreover, common to all parts of Ireland outside the Dublin area was confusion in the orders coming from the leadership in the capital, as well as communication problems within regions, indecision, a lack of weapons and the absence of a co-ordinated approach.

Given the importance of Easter 1916, it is not surprising that its effect on Ireland and its relationship with Britain is contested. With it emerged a new generation and political class which would come to dominate the nation and state, but questions remain as to why the Rising happened and what its destructive as well as its constructive consequences were. What were the forces that impelled some men and women towards rebellion, yet led many more to fight for Britain in the First World War? Could the result of the 1918 general election have happened without the Rising – in short, was it necessary for independence to become a reality? Did it mean that the division of the island was now a certainty? Was the choice between independence and unification, or is that to simplify a much more complex issue?

An important part of this decade is to seek answers to these questions and to remember key events, but also to consider others that have not been given the same attention. It thus provides the context in which historians can produce local studies, such as this work by William Henry. When read in conjunction with the work of Charles Townshend and, among others, Roy Foster’s Vivid Faces: The Revolutionary Generation in Ireland, 1890–1923 and A Nation and not a Rabble by Diarmaid Ferriter, this study can prove instructive as to how the rebellion came to happen in 1916 and how it then informed the nation and the states that came into existence.

The question asked at the start of this preface was also asked by a woman at the Easter commemoration in Galway in 2010 for those who had died in 1916. William Henry’s recollection of this and his answer to her, that while this may not be the Ireland they fought for, it is more important than ever to remember these individuals and their ideals, and for everyone to strive towards these, illustrates an empathy with those of whom he writes and speaks. In identifying a range of issues, including the people who acted in the way they did, he is to be commended. His personal knowledge of Galway and passion for its history gives rise to a dramatic and illuminative account of the origins and impact of the 1916 Rising in the county. Those who are concerned with the past will find much of interest in the latest book by William Henry.

Tomás Finn,

Department of History,

NUI, Galway.

Introduction

This book, as its title Pathway to Rebellion: Galway 1916 suggests, traces the origins of the rebellion in Galway in a way not previously explored. The story of unrest in rural Galway during the fifty years before 1916 shows that the county had a history of being one of the most troubled in Ireland. One must remember that the Ireland of this period was under the control of an unjust landlord system. It was inevitable that trouble would arise and it did, in the form of resistance to eviction and in land agitation. This manifested itself most notably during the Land War and the Plan of Campaign in the 1880s, and by the turn of the twentieth century most of the county’s inhabitants were no longer willing to suffer injustice in silence. They had become organised and united under various nationalist movements, including the Land League and the United Irish League (UIL). Under these banners people felt more secure and became ambitious about their future and that of the country.

Even in Galway city during this period there was sometimes unrest and open hostility between the police, the military and the civilian population, although some believe that this was caused by troublemakers rather than being politically motivated. It has even been suggested that most of the trouble was fuelled by alcohol. Nevertheless, this hostility could not be ignored and there was clearly some anti-British feeling at work. However, over time this feeling seems to have subsided and by 1916 the vast majority of people living in Galway city were against the Rising and strongly supported government policy. Only a handful of rebels in the city took part in the action. Galway was not alone in this, as many of the big towns condemned the rebel action and supported the police and military.

In contrast, in many parts of rural Galway, where people had felt the weight of injustice for generations, support for the Rising was high. The insurrection in Galway was really a rural uprising and in many cases it was the children and grandchildren of the people involved in the earlier resistance movement and land agitation who turned out in open rebellion in 1916.

The 1916 Rising had only been made possible by the formation of the Irish Volunteers in 1913. This allowed, in a sense, the establishment of an Irish army, which had not been seen for centuries. Although it was a part-time force, the movement was strong and well disciplined. The response to the Volunteers was very positive countrywide, although some would say that this was because of the involvement of John Redmond in the movement. Leader of the Irish Parliamentary Party, he had a lot of influence throughout the country.

In one way the formation of the Volunteers came at an ideal time for the authorities, with the outbreak of the Great War less than a year later. Through the Volunteer movement, Ireland had many young men partly trained militarily and this suited the British war effort. When war was declared in August 1914, John Redmond facilitated British recruitment for the front lines by pledging the support of the Volunteers to the conflict. However, his actions caused a split in the movement and while a huge majority followed Redmond and formed the National Volunteers, a smaller, much more focussed group, committed to Irish nationalism, remained. Their numbers were small when compared with the thousands of Irishmen fighting on the Western Front and in the other theatres of war in the European conflict, but this is not surprising when one considers the intense recruiting campaigns held across the country. The postponement of Home Rule, which had been the burning question in Irish politics for years, and the possibility of conscription led these men along the path to rebellion. Home Rule and its limited independence were no longer enough for the hard-line nationalists, who were led by the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB), and they decided to take the chance presented to them by the war to stage an uprising.

The mobilisation of the rebel forces and the attacks in various places detailed in this book show just how much (or little) of Galway was affected by the Rising. The immediate reaction of the police and British authorities in the city is also uncovered, as is the extraordinary support they received from the population. There were hundreds of arrests in the round-up of rebel suspects that followed the rebellion, but rather than decrying this, many of the men felt safer in the custody of the British military than being exposed to the public reaction against them. The men who rebelled were condemned, assaulted and subjected to verbal abuse in the days following the Rising. Those who managed to evade capture went on the run.

However, in the aftermath of the executions of the Rising’s leaders in Dublin, attitudes and public opinion changed dramatically. The traitors of yesterday were suddenly the heroes of today. The homecoming they received on their release from internment was in total contrast to the reception they had had just after the rebellion, when they were viewed as traitors and troublemakers. The mood of the country had certainly changed, changed utterly. The actions of these men had paved the way for a new and independent Ireland, but it would take a bitter and bloody struggle to gain the independence sought in 1916.

When first setting out on this project I did not envisage that the final result would be a book of this size. However, the sources explored when compiling this work, including contemporary newspapers, books, interviews, letters and witness statements from the Bureau of Military History (BMH), which were recorded by the survivors between 1947 and 1957, contained a wealth of important information that deserved to be included.

It should be pointed out here that, while the BMH witness statements are invaluable for the study of this period of Irish history, there are some difficulties with them. Some of them differ when recording the same event and do not match exactly regarding information and timing. This is understandable as the statements were recorded many years after the rebellion. While they may have seemed accurate to the individual involved, others remembered an event differently. One example of a total mismatch between two statements recording the same event can be found in the accounts of Brian Molloy (company captain, Castlegar) and Thomas Courtney (intelligence officer, Castlegar). Molloy stated that when his company mobilised early on the morning of Tuesday 25 April 1916, Thomas Courtney arrived from the city and informed them that two of the rebel leaders, George Nichols and Micheál Ó Droighneáin, had been arrested in Galway. According to Courtney’s statement he arrived in Castlegar at about 6 a.m. that same morning and was told by Michael Newell (second-in-command, Castlegar) that Brian Molloy and Patrick Callanan had gone to Moycullen. Therefore Courtney could not have met Molloy that morning. One could argue that Molloy was recording information given to him by Newell when he returned from Moycullen. However, there is also the fact that Courtney could not have informed anyone of the arrests of Nichols and Ó Droighneáin on that particular morning as this did not take place until later that day.

Other discrepancies arise between witness statements. One of these stated that it was in Limepark that Fr Thomas Fahy caught up with the rebels with news from Galway. Another account indicates that he joined the rebel column when they arrived in a place called Coxtown, which was about a mile from Limepark. Still another statement recorded that Fr Fahy caught up with the rebels at Monksfield. Fr Fahy himself stated that he reached the rebel column on the road to Limepark. There are also problems with differences in the spelling of names of people and places in a number of statements. These are just some examples of the issues that arose while compiling this book, which resulted in a lot of cross-checking of statements to try to build up a clear and accurate account of the events, which I hope I have achieved.

I would like to end this introduction on a personal note. Pathway to Rebellion was an amazing book for me to write, as in my childhood I knew some of the men who took part in this epic episode in Irish history. They were old at the time and like most children I never considered the freedom that I experienced as being earned by them, but I have come to appreciate it now. These were men of principle and integrity, and I am sure they would be disappointed with the lack of these qualities in the corridors of power today.

1 Rebellious Behaviour

Looking back at the political climate in Galway towards the end of the nineteenth century and in the years leading up to the rebellion, one should not be surprised by the events of 1916. It has been said that Galway was one of the strongest areas of agrarian agitation in the country during those years. Not only were people rebelling against the crown forces, but they were also hostile towards the landlords and their agents.1

There was a long tradition of agrarian secret societies in County Galway, some dating from as far back as the early eighteenth century when a group calling themselves the ‘Houghers’ were active. By the late eighteenth century these had given way to the Whiteboys, sometimes referred to as Ribbonmen, an organisation that continued its lawless activities well into the following century. Perhaps their most famous member was Anthony Daly. He was hanged in 1820 on the hill of Seefin, located between Craughwell and Loughrea, after being accused of perpetrating attacks on the landed estates of Roxborough, Raford and St Clerans.2 These attacks had their origins in the attitudes and practices of some landlords – it was not uncommon for landlords to seize crops from those struggling in poverty as payment of rent at that time. In many of these cases Ribbonmen sent threatening notes to landlords involved in such seizures, as well as in the mistreatment of tenants, warning them of the consequences if such practices continued. The Ribbonmen perpetrated violent assaults and robberies, and were also involved in nocturnal raids for firearms. Their area of activity stretched from north-east Galway to Loughrea and covered many other districts of the county, including Tuam, Mountbellew and Ahascragh.

By 1820 Galway was the most disturbed and violent county in Ireland and the most affected areas included Loughrea, Dunsandle and Roxborough. The attacks were causing the landlords and authorities such great concern that they held a meeting in Loughrea to set plans in place to crush the Ribbonmen. Many of those present were in favour of having the Insurrection Act of 1796 reintroduced. Among other things, this tough legislation had allowed the placing of any district under martial law by the lord lieutenant and the imposition of the death penalty for anyone administering an unlawful oath; it had been used with terrible effect during the 1798 Rebellion. Following the meeting, between 8,000 and 9,000 troops were drafted into the county to try to defuse the situation and repress those causing trouble. There was a series of battles between the Ribbonmen and the military, following which over 100 insurgents were captured and incarcerated in Galway Jail. The courts passed the death sentence on nine men, although six were later reprieved. Others received various terms of imprisonment, flogging and transportation.

Anthony Daly was one of those sentenced to death, for his role in the planning of rebellious operations in the area. One of the accusations against Daly had been the attempted assassination of James Hardiman Burke of St Clerans. Burke was not only a landlord, he was also the mayor of Galway at the time. Tradition tells us that Daly’s only defence was simple – had he pulled the trigger, Burke would be dead. Despite being blind in one eye, Daly had a reputation of being an excellent shot. According to tradition, Daly was forced to sit on his own coffin during the journey to his place of execution. His hanging on 8 April 1820 had a long-term effect on the people and the locality.3 It seems that Anthony Raftery, the renowned poet, was present at the execution and wrote about the hanging. A monument was later erected on the site of the execution. Over time, Daly became a folk hero, and his life and death are still remembered today, almost 200 years later. Some people believe that Daly was the first of the modern martyrs, a tradition which culminated in the 1916 executions.4

The agrarian struggle in Galway continued at a reduced pace following the death of Anthony Daly, and the famine years took their toll on those willing to stand up to oppression. However, in the years following the catastrophe of hunger, during which many landlords had continued to evict their starving tenants, a renewed struggle evolved. The main concern for people in Galway at this time was land rent and reform, and tensions were running high. Unfortunately those in authority did not deem the demand for fair rents important and this was apparent from the failure of the Landlord and Tenant Act, passed in 1870 to amend the law relating to the occupation and ownership of land in Ireland, to address this issue. The people could not tolerate this and the situation resulted in some of them taking the attitude that the only fair rent was no rent. After all, why should people pay rent for land that had been confiscated by landlords from their forebears?

The situation came to a head in the late 1870s when local and global problems caused a recession which meant that increasing numbers of tenants could not pay their rent. This led to the formation of the Land League in 1879 following a meeting in Irishtown, County Mayo. The League aimed to protect from eviction people living on smallholdings and to abolish landlordism in Ireland. Their tactics culminated in the so-called ‘Land War’ of 1879–82, where the League used tactics such as protest meetings, riots, assassinations and boycotts to prevent evictions and advance the cause of tenants.

By this time people were starting to show more courage in their struggle against the landlord system. This was apparent in the events surrounding the eviction of a man named Mike Fallon and his family in September 1880. Fallon was a tenant of the Persse family on the Roxborough estate. Over previous years he had suffered financially because of poor harvests. To make matters worse, Persse refused to pay him for work he had carried out on his house. When Fallon was unable to pay the rent, his horse and foal were seized as payment. As a result he became so ill that he was unable to farm the land. Persse then offered Fallon a position as caretaker, to remove him from the land, but he refused. He told Persse that he wished to hold onto the patch of land regardless of the situation, warning him that he had the Land League’s support and that the days when landlords controlled these estates were numbered. Fallon was forced off the land, but, being a determined man, he refused to go without a fight. Between March 1881 and June 1883 he appeared before the courts some thirty-four times, charged with trespassing on the land which he considered his own. The fines exceeded the rent he owed on the property and Fallon found himself in prison on many occasions. However, while Fallon faced many problems, he found that he was not alone in his struggles. Forty prisoners in Galway Jail raised money for the Fallon family, while Michael Davitt, one of the key figures in the Land League, provided finance to have the Fallon children looked after on an ongoing basis.

Between 1881 and 1882 there were eight murders in an area stretching from Athenry to Loughrea. Those killed included a landlord, a soldier, a policeman, a land agent and a number of so-called ‘land grabbers’. It was believed that the IRB shot these men. Following the killings, there was a large influx of police and military into the county, which only added tension to a worsening situation. The landlord who lost his life was Walter Bourke of Rahasane House. On the day he was killed Bourke had travelled to Gort to attend the Petty Sessions and obtain court orders to evict some of his tenants. Both he and his personal guard, Corporal Robert Wallace, were killed in an ambush at Castletaylor on the way home.5

During this period Constable James Linton was fatally shot and another policeman, Constable Kavanagh, was killed while investigating the death of a landlord’s son in Letterfrack. It was inevitable that the police would be targeted, because while some had shown themselves to be humanitarians, others had displayed utter brutality towards the people. It was reported that in some areas of unrest, police had viciously punched young girls in the stomach and breasts, and used the butt-end of their rifles freely on anyone they came in contact with during confrontations. One woman in Carraroe, who was not involved in the League or the unrest, received a bayonet thrust to her neck, and it was claimed that she was not the only innocent victim of police brutality. People in Moylough were baton charged by police, with many receiving head wounds. Many of these attacks were unprovoked.6

In 1881 the British government introduced measures that would lead to the end of the Land War in the summer of the following year. One was a policy of brutal repression of the Land League, which was proscribed. The other was the 1881 Land Act: this allowed tenants to apply for rent reductions to the courts, which could be fixed for fifteen years, and also introduced the possibility of land purchase. As the situation on the ground improved, the League lost its support.

However, evictions were still the cause of much resentment and it is evident that the authorities were certainly not heeding or listening to the voice of the people. Dispossession was still a huge threat hanging over families and, with the end of the Land War, in many cases people felt that they were once again alone in their struggle against this injustice. Nevertheless, things were about to change. On 20 August 1886 resistance to evictions reached boiling point in Woodford, County Galway. That day an attempt was made to remove Thomas Sanders from his home, but the sheriff and his men met with strong resistance after a number of Sanders’ supporters barricaded themselves into the house. As the police and bailiffs attempted to force an entry, they came under attack from the men inside, who used stones, sticks, gaffs, boat-hooks and boiling gruel to repel them; even a beehive was thrown at the attackers. The police were forced to retreat after two hours with nothing to show for their action except wounds and embarrassment. The defenders then erected a green flag on the roof of the house and began preparing for another attack.7

The incident became known as the ‘Siege of Sanders’ Fort’ and it received huge publicity over the following days. The man behind the eviction was the most notorious of all the absentee landlords, Hubert George de Burgh-Canning (Lord Clanricarde), who, despite his immense wealth, lived a miser’s existence. Across the county, Sanders’ supporters numbered in the thousands and to impede police and troops from reaching Woodford, roads were dug up and trees knocked across them, and a bridge was also destroyed. The ringing of church bells warned that the police and military were close and brought people out to support Sanders. Over the following week the authorities called in reinforcements and by 27 August some 700 police, two companies of troops and forty emergency men had reached Woodford and were engaged in the siege.8Although Sanders and his men were eventually overcome, their resistance was widely publicised and captured the imagination of many nationalists both at home and abroad.

The events at Woodford sent thousands of people onto the streets of Galway city in support of the man who had made a stand against the police. Local priest Fr Fahy had actively supported the men involved in the Woodford standoff and for this he was brought to court. On the day of his trial some eighteen men supporting Fr Fahy were arrested for ‘riotous conduct’. All received prison sentences and Fr Fahy was taken to Galway Jail. He was greeted by hundreds of well-wishers when he arrived from Woodford and initially, for the most part, it was a peaceful demonstration.

However, when his supporters arrived in Galway by train some time later, it was a very different matter and trouble was clearly expected as they were placed under a heavy police escort. The police and military faced a dangerous situation from the increasingly rebellious conduct of the crowd. Head Constable Wynne, who was in charge, forced the people back and succeeded in making a division between them and the prisoners with their escort. However, when he tried to rejoin his party, he came under attack. The police escort quickly marched the prisoners towards Galway Jail, but the crowd became angrier and started to launch missiles indiscriminately at the police escort; some of the prisoners were also hit. Upon reaching the jail, the police formed a line in front of the gate and the prisoners were marched through. The attacking crowd reacted even more violently and volley after volley of stones was fired at the police, injuring a number of them. Prison wardens also felt the fury of the crowd as stones were thrown at the prison gates, making a loud continuous crashing sound as they struck home.

The attack on Wynne continued and more police were injured. Orders were given to fix bayonets and prepare to charge the crowd. As the police surged forward in military formation, men, women and children ran in panic, and many of them fell and were trodden on by others. Wynne became worried about people being seriously injured and so he rushed forward and halted the police attack. About a dozen men were arrested and taken to the police barracks in the Newtownsmith area of the city. However, some of the mob regrouped and attacked, showering the police with stones before they could reach the relative safety of the barracks. Once inside the barracks Wynne decided to have his men switch their rifles and bayonets for batons. Perhaps he was nervous of people being killed if his men had firearms. They then rushed out of the barracks and attempted to baton-charge the crowd, only to be met by a further hail of stones. The police regrouped and charged again, this time forcing the mob to retreat towards the city centre.

The violence continued in the streets as stones and batons on each side found victims. Shop windows were also smashed as the crowd ran through the streets. People disappeared down side streets, lanes and alleyways. The police halted and regrouped, before marching through the main streets. As they marched down Shop Street they were again attacked, with stones and bottles being thrown from every conceivable place. The police sustained more injuries before they were able to force the rebels to retreat yet again. Meanwhile, the police at Galway Jail were still under attack.

Police reinforcements were called into service from outlying areas, but it took hours to bring the situation under control. Strong police patrols had to be maintained throughout the night and over the following days, to make sure calm prevailed, but this was not the last riot Galway would see over the issue of land.9

The following is an extract from a poem ‘In the Year of ’86’ about the event. It was published in Forgotten Campaign in 1986 and is believed to have been written by a reporter from the Pall Mall Gazette following the Woodford eviction:

The next was Fr Fahy

Who couldn’t see his people die

From hunger and starvation

To save them he did try

For doing this for six long months

He pined in Galway jail

He said ‘I did commit no crime

I’ll not go out on bail’.

When he arrived in Galway town

He was met by thousands there

The people all had turned out

Their voices rang through the air

Twice they thought to rescue him

And then with stones and sticks

They attacked the jail in Galway town

In September ’86.10

2 A Garrison Town

While the violence in the city during this period was influenced by events in the countryside, such as Woodford, this was not the only cause of unrest in the city. Trouble between the people and the military, and between the military and the police, was also a problem.

Galway has always been a garrison town, with a military presence there from at least as far back as the sixteenth century. During the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries troops were housed in the Shambles and the Castle Barracks, both located in the city. However, over time these buildings became unsuitable for the accommodation of soldiers and there were many complaints from the local military, so the War Department decided to have a new barracks erected. An area was chosen at Renmore, just outside the city, and work began in the 1870s. By February 1880 the construction of Renmore Barracks was complete and troops began to move into the new military complex. Renmore became the Connaught Rangers’ depot, and it also provided accommodation for other regiments such as the Suffolk Battalion and the 14th Battalion of the Prince of Wales’ Own Regiment. However, the older military establishments in the city stayed in use despite the adverse conditions.1 Many of the troops socialised with the civilian population and attended various events during this period.2

In December 1881 a row broke out between the police and soldiers in William Street after a soldier who had over-indulged in alcohol started abusing a policeman. The argument developed into a fistfight and a number of other soldiers joined in the attack. The policeman drew a sword and began slashing to keep them at a distance. A number of other policemen arrived and, following a sharp scuffle, the soldiers were arrested.3

In 1885 disturbances broke out after soldiers from the 14th West Yorkshire Regiment based in Renmore Barracks arrived in the city. Trouble erupted with some young men who were attending a bonfire in Frenchville Lane close to Galway Railway Station. After the clash the soldiers made their way through the city, smashing several windows and causing more trouble. They were set upon by a crowd of civilians, but the police arrived on the scene and calmed the situation. Over the following nights crowds of civilians thronged the streets awaiting the soldiers’ return, as they were determined to attack any who ventured out from the safety of their barracks. However, all remained quiet, helped by the fact that the soldiers had all been confined to barracks. Just over a week later 120 of the troops who had been involved boarded the train for Cork on the first leg of a journey to their new posting in India.

Despite this, the trouble in the city escalated and girls who were seen in the company of soldiers also became targets. Many had their bonnets and shawls pulled off and trampled on in the mud. Even the wives of soldiers were not safe and received the same rough treatment. It was reported that one woman was attacked in the centre of Galway when she was out walking with her soldier husband. The unruly mob, led by a priest, almost stripped the woman of her clothing. Her husband tried to reason with them, but he was simply pushed aside. Another attack took place in College Road when a gang of about twelve men set upon two soldiers of the Border Regiment in the company of two girls. They tried to escape, but another gang of men came from the opposite direction and joined in the attack. The soldiers were thrown to the ground and kicked and had their uniforms torn. As in other attacks, the girls had their bonnets and shawls ripped off and kicked about the street. One of the attackers later admitted that they had only done as the clergy instructed.

It was a difficult situation to address because some clerics, assisted by some ‘very zealous’ young men, were involved in the attacks. In trying to justify their actions, the clergy said that they were worried about the virtue of their flock. One stated that he would not ‘give the females of our faith to the unbridled licence of any regiment’. While saving the young women’s virtue was the excuse used, some of those involved were simply anti-British and were prepared to inflict injuries on the military and anyone they felt was supporting them.

The police were called in to try to sort out the situation. Some of the men involved were taken before the magistrates, but this didn’t solve the problem as they were only punished with small fines. There were calls for the Church authorities to help restore public order, but they were slow to react. Some priests were guilty of grossly illegal acts when they encouraged others to commit disorder and the problems continued for some time.4 This tradition of clerical involvement in rebellious acts was kept up later when a number of priests became involved in the Irish Volunteers and the Rising in Galway.

The attacks on the military did not help an already volatile situation as they meant that some soldiers felt justified in becoming involved in public disorder. In June 1888 soldiers of the Welch Fusiliers attacked a shop owned by Thomas McDonagh in Flood Street. The trouble started earlier in a public house, where they had an argument with a local man. After the man left the pub the soldiers followed him, determined to give him a beating. He made his way to Flood Street hoping to escape, but the soldiers were closing in on him, so as he passed McDonagh’s shop he decided to take refuge there. The owner and some of the customers in the shop helped him by closing and locking the doors, but when the soldiers arrived outside, they began attacking the shop. Although they smashed the windows and pulled the shutters off the building, the people inside the shop managed to hold the door securely closed.

What happened next was truly horrific. When they failed to gain access, the soldiers turned their attention and rage on a donkey and cart tied to a pole just outside the shop, and beat and kicked the unfortunate animal until it collapsed. They then proceeded to jump on its body before leaving the area. This same group of soldiers, stationed at the Shambles Barracks, was known to break shop and house windows on a regular basis. Although the military authorities in Galway claimed to be appalled by such cruelty, the soldiers were not held accountable for their actions, which angered the people of the city.5

Although Queen Victoria’s birthday was in May, it wasn’t celebrated in Renmore Barracks until early June. The event was held in the parade ground in Renmore Barracks as they did not want it to be tarnished, which was a distinct possibility if they organised it in the city. The celebrations went off as planned and the cheering troops could be heard at a great distance as they chanted, ‘Long may she reign’, a wish they hoped would be echoed across the world where the ‘sceptre of England holds sway – the great dominion on which the sun never sets’.6

Resentment against the Welch Fusiliers took a shocking turn on 18 September 1889, when Private Mark Owens was fatally stabbed during a fight between soldiers and civilians. He was taken to a medical unit in Renmore Barracks where he died a short time later. The soldiers had been drinking in a pub in Middle Street and while returning to barracks they spotted a boy playing his mandolin in the street and some girls dancing to the tune. The soldiers, eight of them, joined in and began dancing with the girls, who were frightened and wanted nothing to do with them. One of the soldiers fell, the music stopped immediately and his comrades helped him to his feet. The girls ran away down the darkened street. Two of the soldiers began shouting offensive names at them while the others continued on their way, walking towards Buttermilk Lane. A man who was standing at the corner of the street observing the situation began shouting abuse at the soldiers in defence of the girls. One of the soldiers ran at him, knocked him to the ground and began kicking him. There was a lot of shouting and soon other civilians who were passing came to the aid of the man and began throwing stones at the soldiers. The fight escalated and Owens was stabbed. He fell to the ground and as he tried to regain his feet, his comrades dragged him away while still under attack. Enraged because of the stabbing, they began smashing windows in Buttermilk Lane, but this only brought more people onto the street. The soldiers were now in serious danger as the crowd grew in numbers and hostility. The police arrived to try to calm the situation, but were too late to save Private Owens, who was bleeding profusely and later died of his wound. The inquest held at Renmore Barracks stated that Owens died from a ‘Punctured wound in the right side inflicted by some person unknown’. His attacker remained ‘unknown’, except, possibly, to his friends. It was recommended that members of the regiment should be confined to barracks until their departure from Galway could be arranged.7

In July 1890 trouble almost broke out between the police and the Connaught Rangers, after the police ordered a drunken man to go home. He became angry and attacked one of the policemen and was promptly arrested. The incident occurred in Lombard Street, just outside the Shambles Barracks where a member of the Connaught Rangers was on guard duty. While the man was being taken away, he shouted to the soldier that he had served with the Rangers abroad and needed his help. It seems that there was an unwritten rule between the Rangers that they would always defend each other. The man’s call for help had the desired effect, as the soldier left his post and challenged the police. A number of other soldiers who were making their way to the barracks at the time also became involved. It was obvious to the police that these men were in the mood for a fight.