rrj uu o j ' J UU ' J U jUUI AAAA. iAruwvvuv\^^ u vu w u u o wu \jvj\j\j u u'CVi' uu u 
 
 ONE OF THE REPORTERS OF THAT PAPER. 
 
 | DUBLIN: 
 
 W. LOWE, PRINTER, 6, LOWER ABBEY-STREET. 
 1846. 
 
 SM IN IRELAND. 
 
 M 
 
 
 LETTERS ON THE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 GERRARD TENANTRY. 
 
 A PORTION V WHICH APPEARED ORIGINALLY 
 
 " FREEMAN’S JOURNAL.” 
 
LANDLORDISM IN IRELAND. 
 
 LETTERS ON THE EVICTION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 GERRARD TENANTRY. 
 
 A PORTION OF WHICH APPEARED ORIGINALLY 
 
 IN THE 
 
 “ FREEMAN’S JOURNAL.” 
 
 BY S. REDMOND, 
 
 ONE OF THE REPORTERS OF THAT PAPER. 
 
 DUBLIN : 
 
 W. LOWE, PRINTER, 6, LOWER ABBEY-STREET. 
 1846. 
 
i 
 
 ! 
 
 I;'u # Q5-2.&/X 
 Msiuaiistliis Prasaralson Project 
 
-? v? 3 / Hf 7f 
 
 fzvTi 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE TENANT FAEMEES OF IRELAND, 
 
 'E'ESEiJ {HUBEI! f! ©IF SIiOTF2II£{iJ E§5 3M2&E@Mni3©o 
 
 The object they were intended to accomplish was the ex- 
 posure of the grievances to which under the present law of 
 Landlord and Tenant in Ireland, the Tenant occupiers may 
 be subjected at the pleasure of their Landlords. 
 
 If the facts herein contained shall to any extent facilitate 
 the removal of the terrible evils herein exposed, then these 
 papers shall not have been written in vain, for then they 
 will have realised the best and sincerest wishes of the 
 gentlemen at whose instance they were undertaken as well 
 as of 
 
 MSI! WIES^HIEo 
 

 
 ' 
 
 ?'lf 
 
 . 
 
 : ■; - - ^ 
 
 ' 
 
 • ? ; ■ ::-n hi y ,v’ 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The greater portion of the statements contained 
 in the following Letters, have already appeared in 
 the columns of the Freeman’s Journal, from 
 whence they have been copied into every News- 
 paper in the Empire. The demands upon the 
 space of a daily publication, as well as other con- 
 siderations, rendered necessary the curtailment of 
 many details, and the omission of many others. 
 Those curtailments and omissions the writer has 
 now supplied. The letters are here presented 
 to the public just as the writer sketched them, with 
 the impressions of the hour freshly imprinted upon 
 his memory, and in the amplitude which at the 
 moment he deemed necessary to convey them. 
 Although therefore there is not any topic intro- 
 duced which has not already been produced in 
 the pages of the Journal with which the writer 
 has the honour to be connected, still it is hoped 
 that there is not wanting such further matter as 
 will tend to impart more firmness and interest to 
 the whole. Many over-kind friends have suggested 
 to the writer that these letters were worthy of a 
 more solid embodiment than the columns of any 
 
VI 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Journal, however popular and widely circulated, 
 could afford them. However he may have felt 
 flattered by such appreciation, fie would not have 
 attempted a separate publication of those commu- 
 nications, had he not had the assent and approba- 
 tion of the gentlemen to whose earnest patriotism 
 the country is indebted for the exposures they con- 
 tain ; nor would he be induced by any contempla- 
 tion of the eclat or emolument to himself to offer 
 this brochure to the public, did he not hope and 
 feel that he is thereby doing a good and acceptable 
 service to his country. Whatever may be the 
 value of the service which the succeeding dis- 
 closures of the spirit and the acts of Irish land- 
 lordism shall confer upon this country, and he 
 believes it is not easy to over-estimate them, the 
 Nation is indebted solely and exclusively to the 
 energy, the liberality, and the well-judging patriot- 
 ism of the Proprietors of the Freeman’s Journal ; 
 with whose views it is the proudest tribute to the 
 writer that he was chosen to co-operate. 
 
LETTERS ON THE EVICTION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 GERE AED TENANTRY. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Mount Bellew, county Galway, Wednesday 
 Night, 25th March, 1846. 
 
 The conduct of Mrs. Gerrard towards her tenantry in this 
 county, to which you were the first to direct metropolitan at- 
 tention, has not only excited deep and anxious interest through- 
 out this country, but through the United Kingdom. The oc- 
 casion on which you deemed it necessary to despatch me to this 
 part of the country is of such paramount importance, parti- 
 cularly so at this moment, as to render it well worthy of any 
 labour to set the facts properly before the public, however in- 
 adequate my humble ability may be to depict the scenes of 
 desolation which it has been my melancholy lot to witness. The 
 case is one of a truly painful character ; but exordium I shall 
 not use. My business is to state facts, as I have found them — to 
 tell the truth and nothing save the truth, as I myself have wit- 
 nessed it — truth corroborated by the most substantial and faith- 
 worthy evidence — derived, as you will perceive, from parties who 
 could not — who would not, be g;uilty of deceit or duplicity. / Be- 
 fore entering into a statement of, the details, I may here observe 
 that there has been a mistake in reference to the locality where 
 the scenes took place which I am about to lay — through your co- 
 lumns — before the public. It was generally conceived that the 
 theatre of this wholesale annihilation of human dwellings was si- 
 tuate in the county of Roscommon. That is incorrect. Still, the 
 mistake was natural, as no particular locale was mentioned, and 
 as the first intimation of the fact was conveyed to the public 
 through the Roscommon Journal . It is, however, situate in 
 the county of Galway, and within one mile of the town from 
 whence I now write. In order to particularise the spot (for it 
 is worthy of record), I shall describe the route from Roscom- 
 
 B 
 
10 
 
 mo h thither, in order that the traveller or the curious may be 
 able to recognise hereafter, and point, not to “ the deserted,” 
 but ruined village of Ballinlass, “ where health and plenty 
 cheered the labouring swain,” but where ruin, wreck, and deso- 
 lation now reign triumphant, with all their sable and dreary 
 accessaries. Leaving Roscommon, you proceed, by the Galway 
 road, through a country almost entirely composed of bog. En 
 route you pass through a small but neat town, called Athleague, 
 thence to Mount-Talbot, the residence of Mr. Talbot, where you 
 cross the river Suck, which divides the counties of Roscommon 
 and Galway. The next place of any note is a pretty town called 
 Bailygar, seated on the brow of a hill, commanding a fine pros- 
 pect, from which considerable portions of the fertile commies 
 above mentioned may be viewed to much advantage You 
 thence proceed in a direct line to Ballinamore, a small village 
 on the bank of the river Sheeven, where the Hon. Mr. Ffrench 
 has a beautiful seat. Turning to the right, the road leads along 
 the river to a small place formerly called Newbridge, but lat- 
 terly known as Newtown- Gerrard, in honour of the proprietrix, 
 Mrs. Gerrard. This was at one period a populous place^but the 
 hand of the spoiler came, and the evidences of his progress are 
 unmistakeable, and are here in ample array presented to the 
 eye. To compensate for this destruction, Mrs. Gerrard has 
 erected a market-house, which is without merchandise, neither 
 buyer or seller ever appearing there, and the rusty iron trian- 
 gle, with mouldering beam and scales attached, spe^eloquently 
 of the neglected state of this “deserted village.” The lady also, 
 with a degree of carefulness not to be too hi^Sy estimated, 
 erected a large and very beautiful house, which she, in her 
 wisdom, deemed fit for the accommodation of twelve police- 
 men, but, after repeated applications to government for a force 
 to the above extent, she was refused, and the building stands 
 now a mere monument of the lady’s munificence of intention, 
 and, no doubt will, in future ages, prove as great puzzle to 
 the antiquary as the round towers of other days, or .the present 
 union workhouses. Mrs. Gerrard also erected here a half inn 
 half public house, which is kept by a person named Ginty, who 
 acts in the united capacities of steward, overseer, and inn- 
 keeper to her ladyship ; I am bound, however, to say that 
 he is generally considered to be a respectable, honest, and well- 
 meaning man. In view of this place there is a very elegant 
 lodge raised for the reception of Mrs. Gerrard, whenever she 
 
11 
 
 visits that portion of her estates. And here I may remark, ** 
 that her “ broad lands” cover a large tract of country, and* are JL / 
 valued at over 5,000/. a-year, on a moderate estimate. En ^ 
 passant , her ladyship and her husband are accounted the rich- > w 
 est commoners in Connaught, some say in Ireland, — the Dub- ^ ^ ^ 
 lin and Liverpool markets being largely supplied with 
 caj£le reared on this extensive estate. r*- 
 
 As the public mind is dwelling fixedly on this subject, it may 
 ri&Fbe inappropriate to state that Mrs. Gerrard possesses this 
 property in her own right, it having come into her possession 
 on the death of her brothers many years since. The maiden 
 name of this lady was Netterville, and as she has had no family, 
 her heirs presumptive are, I am given to understand, Mr. Cor- 
 bally, the member for Meath, and Lord Killeen, son of Lord 
 Fingal, whose mother is half-sister to Mrs. Gerrard. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Gerrard reside at a place called Gibbstown, in the county 
 of Meath ; the former is said to be in his 80th year, and the 
 latter some ten years his junior. It has been stated in an 
 evening cotemporary that they are Catholics — this is a gross 
 error. /But let us proceed to the scene of ruin. Leaving New- 
 town-Gerrard, you pass along to the left of the river Sheeven. 
 
 On the road to Mount-Bellew, and about a mile from that 
 pretty little town, the first sight of the recent scene of desola- 
 tion presents itself to view. The doomed village of Ballin- 
 lass, parish of Kilascobe, and barony of Killy on, county of 
 Galway, was situate here, and was built on the confines of 
 a bog, which, in a great measure, had been reclaimed by 
 the tenants ; the land, particularly at the rere of where the 
 houses once stood, presenting an appearance of high cultivation, 
 which was produced by the patient and hard industry of the 
 tenants, who are now scattered over the face of the country, 
 without a shelter for their weary and time-worn limbs, save 
 that supplied by the broad canopy of heaven, and the charity 
 of a fe^poor people in the neighbourhood and in Mount 
 Bellew. I now come to the task, which of all others I feel my 
 incapability of doing justice to, or even conveying a faint out- 
 line of— namely, a description of the scene of ruin which pre. 
 sents itself to the view of the astonished beholder. The ap- 
 proach to the village was by a kind of road or togher , as it is 
 called, along the left of which were heretofore a few scattered 
 houses. About a quarter of a mile from the main road the 
 houses were clustered together in groups of three or four, and 
 
12 
 
 so continued at short distance apart; they were in number 61, 
 as the return below will show you. Not one of those habita- 
 tions is now standing save one, and you will presently see the 
 reason that this solitary dwelling is still permitted to remain. 
 I went through, or I should rather say walked over, the ruins 
 of all, and from what I saw and heard I concluded that they 
 were all comfortable, clean, and neatly kept habitations, with 
 snug kitchen gardens either before or behind them. In cor- 
 roboration of this I have had the evidence of Mr. Mathew 
 Donovan, of Ballygar, by whom I was accompanied, and who 
 rendered me every assistance, and afforded me most important 
 information on this inquiry, and of whose merits, as a true 
 patriot, friend, and adviser of the people on this trying occasion, 
 I cannot speak in terms of sufficient praise. Mr. Donovan has 
 permitted me to mention his name, and should his evidence be 
 required he is willing to present himself for examination 
 before any tribunal, as he was an eye-witness of the facts 
 which I shall detail. /TL may as well mention here that two 
 other gentlemen, whose names you will find farther on, 
 have given me similar permission, i. e ., to say tha^ they 
 are prepared to corroborate the facts which I detail. /On ap- 
 proaching the entrance to the village the first thing tW met 
 my eye was some manure, or dung, which had been carried away 
 by the wretched people from their houses and thrown on the 
 side of the road, in order to prevent it from becoming the pro- 
 perty of the landlady after the tenants were evicted. Mr. 
 Donovan, who witnessed the scene which took place on Friday, 
 the 13th March, 1846, describes it as the most appalling he 
 had ever witnessed — women, young and old, running wildly to 
 and fro with small portions of their property, in order to save 
 it from the wreck — the screaming of the children, and wild 
 wailings of the mothers driven from home and shelter — 
 their peaceful homes, hallowed by a thousand fond recollec- 
 tions — all combined to form a picture of human misery, such 
 as the darkest imagination alone could conceive. At an early 
 hour on the morning of Friday, the 13th instant, the 
 sheriff, accompanied by a large force of the 49th regiment, com- 
 manded by Captain Brown, and also by a heavy body of police, 
 under the command of Mr. Cummings, proceeded to the place 
 marked out for destruction. The people were then, according 
 to the process of law (I could not procure a copy of the habere ,) 
 called on to render possession, and forthwith the bailiffs of 
 
13 
 
 Mrs. Gerrard commenced the work of demolition. In the first 
 instance the roofs and portions of the walls were only thrown 
 down ; the former in most instances lie on the side of the road, 
 on the manure already alluded to^It was stated in the original 
 account, ^published in the Roscommon Journal , that a child had 
 been killed by the falling of a beam, as the bailiff would not 
 wait until the boy came out of the house, but I am happy to 
 inform you that this is a mistake. The boy was certainly 
 hurt, but not severely, and it appears he was son to one of the 
 bailiffs, not to a tenant, and that the transaction was purely 
 accidental. It was also mentioned that a sick man had been 
 thrown out on the fields. This is partly incorrect, the facts 
 being as follows : — -A man and woman, who lay ill of fever, 
 were permitted to remain in a house into which they were 
 carried, after possession of it had been taken, and this is the soli* 
 tary house remaining, and to which I have already alluded ; but 
 they have since been served with notice to leave the place with- 
 imfifteen days or the house would be tumbled on top of them! 
 This information was given me by a man on the road, in pre- 
 sence of upwards of 100 men and women, who all stated that 
 it was a fact, the man adding “ I don’t think, sir, the poor crea- 
 tures unll be there then, for I heard the people who are attend- 
 ing them say they are dying, and you know removing them in 
 the fever was enough to bring that about.” After this neces- 
 sary digression, I shall proceed, step by step, as I now come to 
 the most painful, but most important portion of the mission 
 with which you have honoured me. Mr. Donovan and myself 
 walked through the ruins of every house, and counted them to 
 the number you have above. Great pains must have been 
 taken to demolish the houses, as the walls were very thick, 
 and composed of an umber clay, and when the inside turned 
 up good plaster and whitewash always appeared. Not content 
 with throwing down the roofs and walls, the very foundations 
 have been razed ; and here I must explain what a moment ago 
 I stated, namely that only a portion of the walls was pulled 
 down in the first instance. That is true, but on the night 
 of Friday the wretched creatures pitched a few poles slantwise 
 against the walls, covering them with the thatch in order to 
 procure shelter for the night ; but when this was perceived 
 next day, the bailiffs were dispatched with orders to pull down 
 all the walls and root up the foundations in order to prevent the 
 4t wretches” (this it appears is a favourite term applied to these 
 
 b 2 
 
14 
 
 poor people) from daring to take shelter amid the ruins. 
 When this last act had been perpetrated, the ‘‘wretches’* 
 took to the ditches on the high road, where they slept in parties 
 of from ten to fifteen each, huddled together before a fire for 
 the two succeeding nights. I saw the marks of the fires in the 
 ditches ; every body can see them, and the temporary shelter 
 which the “ wretches” (I can’t help quoting the word so often) 
 endeavoured to raise round them — these, with the sticks res- 
 cued from their recent dwellings, the thatch and the dung 
 remain there as evidence of the truth of my statement. It 
 was a melancholy sight — but more particularly so, amongst 
 the ruins. Here a broken chair, there a smashed pot, crockery- 
 ware, remnants of old dressers, boxes, and tables, together 
 with broken farming implements, and a hundred other articles 
 belonging to husbandry and household purposes, lay about the 
 gardens of the houses (that had been), or the fields adjoining. 
 Having satisfied myself as to facts, I returned to the road, 
 through the fields which lie to the south of the village, and 
 which formed a portion of the farms attached. As I before 
 stated, the land is very good, but I am told it was the people 
 who made it so. The whole extent of ground connected with 
 the village is over 400 acres. It may be some acres more or 
 less ; but I believe from the best information that this will be 
 found about the number of acres which Mrs. Gerrard has re- 
 covered, and over which her fat bullocks may now roam with- 
 out a solitary hut to intercept them. I turned away, almost 
 sick at what I had seen, and reached the road, where I found 
 a large number of people, both male and female, collected 
 about our driver, who remained with the vehicle. They all 
 flocked around us on our return, ajnjL oneyery intelligent v^ung /• 
 man addressed us as follows : — Ljj 
 
 Well, gentlemen, did you ever see the like of that before? 
 Never (I replied) ; and I hope I never shall again. 
 
 Then, sir, you don’t intend to stop long in this part of the 
 county Galway ; for if you did, you’d soon see these two villages 
 (pointing to two villages, as he spoke, that lay about a mile 
 and a-half, or two miles off, in an easterly direction) in the 
 same way. 
 
 Who is the proprietor of those? Mrs. Gerrard, sir, and 
 she has served one of them with the notices, and the other is 
 warned to be ready. 
 
 Whose tenant are you ? Mr. Cheevers’, sir, long life to him, 
 that never turned out a poor man or a widow woman ; but 
 
15 
 
 if any of his people were troubled with hardship or distress, 
 he’s the one himself, and his lady that would come and relieve 
 them. 
 
 Who is Mr. Cheevers, and where does he live ? Down there, 
 sir ; his land runs along the river until you come to the clear- 
 ing of Mrs. Gerrards’ land. 
 
 Well, were you here when the houses were thrown down. In 
 throth I was, your honour, and I never saw the like of it. 
 
 Well, tell us something about it? Well, sir, when the 
 Peelers and soldiers came, the sheriff and the bailiffs turned 
 oat the creatures ; and then, such bawling and screaming of 
 women, children, and old men, I never heard. Why, sir, it 
 would melt the heart of a stone to hear them, and throth the 
 very dogs howled and cried, for you’d think the brutes knew 
 what it was all about ; and they howled away until the houses 
 were all down, and one of them stopped howling and harking 
 at his master s door for several days after , and wouldn’t leave 
 it for any one . & 
 
 My friend, Mr. Donovan, who heard the poor fellow’s simple, 
 but to me touching narrative, corroborated him in every word 
 he said, and you shall have further proof of it hereafter. The 
 man went on — “Well sir, that wasn’t all — some of the walls 
 were left standing, and when the night came they threw up a 
 few kippeens of sticks to shelter themselves from the cold, but 
 the next day she — well, God forgive her after all — she , it is said 
 ordered her bailiffs to root up the foundations to prevent the 
 wretches — it’s wretches, sir, they were called — of going 
 there any more.” 
 
 That was rather severe, I observed. 
 
 “ Oh,” but sir, said the man, with a degree of horror depicted 
 in his face, “that isn’t all, for she sent orders to all her 
 tenants not to let one of them in, or if they did she would serve 
 them the same way — at least such orders were given in her 
 name ” 
 
 I said, I don’t believe that, my good friend. 
 
 Don’t you, sir, said the man? No, I replied. 
 
 Faith and I could bring you at least to one person that was 
 warned at all events. I will not credit the story otherwise, 
 said I. 
 
 It is very currently reported, said Mr. Donovan, and is 
 believed to be true. 
 
 Who gave the notice to the tenants, I inquired of the man v 
 Why, the bailiffs, sir. 
 
16 
 
 Could you show me any person to whom such a notice was 
 given either in words, or in writing? Oh ! Sir, it was not in 
 writing, the bailiffs only called and told the people. 
 
 Then let me see any one that the bailiff called on. There’s 
 a woman down here below on the road, and if your honour 
 Cfiipes down, she will tell you alkabout it. 
 j We went down accordingly, b'ut the woman was at the 
 irr^k^ofM^unt Bellew. There was a boy there about nine 
 or fen years of age, who told us that one of the bailiffs told his 
 mammy not to take in any of the people who were turned out, 
 but his mammy let in an old woman after that. I would not 
 have placed much reliance on this corroboration, except for 
 what you will learn somewhat further on. It is to be hoped, 
 for the sake of humanity, and of womanhood, that Mrs. 
 Gerrard is ignorant of this order. *T\ffter some further conver- 
 sation with the people, which you wiffTind embodied in the gene- 
 ral details, we proceeded towards Mount Bellew, and at every 
 step'new heaps of dung, sticks, diseased potatoes, with the general 
 things mentioned as about the ruins, which had been carried 
 away and deposited on the road side, met our eyes. There 
 were several houses levelled along the road ; but as I have com- 
 puted them amongst the total number, and as they presented 
 the same mournful appearance, what I have said of the village 
 applies to these detached houses. This day being market-day 
 in Mount Bellew, the people on their return from the market 
 collected in large numbers to view the desolation. After passing 
 the last of those now mouldering dwellings, we came to a sharp 
 hill; the western ditch was well secured by a fine thorn hedge, 
 which afforded us ample shelter from a heavy sleet shower 
 which set in at the time. We were joined shortly after by large 
 crowds who were circumstanced as we were.' The people all 
 seemed to know Mr. Donovan, and as each person came up 
 they took off their hats to him and myself. We told them not 
 to do so, but still they persisted. We entered into conversation 
 with them, of course on the subject of the eviction, but before I 
 detail what took place here, permit me to say, that although I 
 have often regretted that I was ignorant of the Irish language, I 
 never really felt the want of it until yesterday ; and, although 
 I could not understand it, yet it drew tears from my eyes to 
 hear the energy and earnestness with which the poor creatures 
 spoke in the expressive language of their native land when 
 addressing Mr. Donovan (who, fortunately, is arv excellent 
 Irish scholar, and speaks the language with great fluency) and 
 
17 
 
 myself, and this, coupled with their natural energetic manner, 
 could not fail to leave a deep and lasting impression. We were 
 surrounded at this time by not less than a couple of hundred 
 persons, one of whom comin g up to Mr. Donovan, said in 
 Irish — “Oh, Mr. Donovan, jew£l, you see they have not left 
 us a house on the side of the road fy shelter us from the showgju 
 Godjforgive them.” ff Lfy t LjL v / f 
 
 Are you one of the persons who was turned out ? No, sir, 
 buTI was looking at them, and I knew all the people ; and 
 Mr. Donovan, jewel, if you only saw the way they pulled down 
 the places. Why, they rushed at them like an army after a 
 battle, into a town to plunder and burn it. 
 
 This sentence was given with a degree of melancholy pathos, 
 and also an action suited to the words that must have touched 
 the most heartless. Up to this time I had not met with any 
 person who had resided in the village, although I inquired 
 anxiously for some of them. Where are they gone to, I 
 enquired of an intelligent man with whom I was in conversa- 
 tion. Why, sir, some of them are gone to the hospitals, as they 
 got sickness out of the ditches, others are begging through the 
 country ; some of them are in the neighbours’ houses, more of 
 of them in Mount Bellew, and some of them who had a trifle 
 of money, are gone off to America. I expressed a wish to be 
 directed where I could meet some of the poor people, when the 
 man said, “ Oh, here is one of them coming down the hill.” 
 This person, who soon joined us, was old, and as he raised his 
 hat to salute me, his long white hair floated on the breeze. 
 
 He was an athletic handsome old man, with a mournful coun- 
 tenance, and as he addressed me in the beautiful and simple 
 language so well known amongst the country people — “ God 
 save you, Sir,” (he spoke English very well), I felt a reve- 
 rence for the old, ill-treated, and unhappy man. 
 
 Are you one of the people who were recently turned out ? 
 
 I enquired. Indeed I am, sir, said he, with a heavy sigh. 
 
 How old are you, sir? Nearly eighty. 
 
 How long did you reside in the village of Ballinlass ? 
 
 Over sixty-eight years, sir, said he, and burst into tears. 
 
 How many in family have you ? 
 
 Three, together with myself, but I had a great deal more 
 than that % Some of them are dead and gone, and well for 
 them they didn’t live to see this desolate day ; others of them 
 are married, and some more are gone to America. 
 
18 
 
 How much land had you? Why, I can’t rightly tell, as 
 there were no regular farms, but there was over 400 acres 
 belonging to the village. 
 
 Did you owe any rent ? I did, sir. 
 
 Were you able to pay it? I was, sir, and willing too, but 
 she wouldn’t take it for the last five half years. 
 
 Why so ? Why, because, sir, she wanted to throw down the 
 houses to make bullock pastures. 
 
 Did you ever offer the rent to the lady ? I did, sir, more 
 than twenty times, and I offered it to her agent also, but they 
 would not take it. We went to the hall-door (meaning the 
 hall- door of the lodge already mentioned) often with the rent, 
 but they wouldn’t take it from us. Every man in the village 
 but one offered the rent over and over, but they wouldn’t take 
 it, and we offered to pay that man’s rent, but they wouldn’t 
 take that either. 
 
 Is it true that the remainder of the walls were ordered to be 
 thrown down to prevent the people from sheltering themselves 
 at night ? In troth it is, sir : they wouldn’t let any one go 
 near the place ; we slept in the ditches for two nights, and I 
 got pains in my poor old bones after it. 
 
 Did the women sleep in the ditches ? They did, sir, and I 
 saw one of the women with a child at her breast hunted by the 
 bailiffs from three places the night after they threw down the 
 houses, when we were under the walls, and they came to put out 
 the fires, and they put out the fires in the road ditches on us too. 
 
 Good God ! I exclaimed, turning to Mr. Donovan, can this 
 old man be telling truth ? 
 
 He is telling truth so far as he goes, but he could not tell 
 you half the truth. Part of what he states to you I have wit- 
 nessed myself, and there are hundreds here who can swear to 
 every word of it. 
 
 I am an old man now, said poor Rock, for that was the name 
 of my venerable acquaintance, Mr. Donovan knows me well, 
 and God knows I have not long to live ; I am telling you the 
 truth, sir, and to my knowing or knowledge, I never told a lie 
 in my life, and it’s too late for me to begin now. This was 
 uttered with a degree of earnest fervour and honesty that could 
 not be mistaken or disbelieved. 
 
 I shall now close this letter by sending you a list of the 
 families, with the number in each, who were dispossessed on 
 this occasion. 
 
Names of Families ejected from the Village of Ballinlass , on the 
 13 th of March , 1846: — 
 
 Luke Gavin, 8; Patrick Mantron, 5 ; Tom Gavin,* 4; Pat 
 Gavin, 6; Bryan Connor, 6; Andy Pinerty, 3; John Conlan, 
 
 6 ; Murray, 4 ; Thady Kilmartin, 8 ; Pat Neil, 9 ; Thady 
 
 Bock, 4 ; Patrick Morris, 5 ; Laurence Bock, 5 ; Michael 
 Bock, 5; Pat Gavin, 4; Michael Gavin, 4; John Dillon, 6; 
 Widow Gavin, 5 ; John Flaherty, 4 ; Pat Conroy, 5 ; Larry 
 Crehan, 6 ; Thomas Tansey, 4 ; Widow Kenny, 3 ; James 
 Monaghan, 4 ; Mark Loftus, 3 ; Mathew Bryan, 6 ; Thady 
 Gavin, 1 ; Thomas Gavin, 2 ; Thomas Gavin, 3 ; Michael 
 Cheevers, 7 ; PatBogerscn, 6 ; Pat Higgins, 6 ; Pat Gibbons, 1 ; 
 Patrick Driscol, 6 ; Thomas Kelly, 3 ; Billy Discon, 4 ; John 
 Norton, 1 ; Michael Clarke, 5 ; James Gavin, 6; Widow Daly, 
 3 ; Laurence Kilmartin, 7 ; Mark Gavin, 3 ; John Gavin, 3 ; 
 Widow O’Hara, 4 ; Widow Discon, 5 ; Billy Geoghegan, 2 ; 
 John Walsh, 2 ; Ned Smyth, 5 ; Boger Forcy, 5 ; Thomas 
 Norton, 1 ; Thady Conlan, 7 ; John Manahan, 8 ; Michael 
 Mulrey, 4 ; Pat Flymings, 3 ; James Hegan, 2 ; Widow Crog- 
 han, 4 ; Widow Murray, 3 ; Widow Kenney, 4 ; John Cal- 
 laghan, 2 ; Pat Morissy, 4 ; James Egan, 5. Total families, 
 61. Total persons, 270. 
 
 You will at once perceive from this letter that I have gone 
 on by stages in order to elicit facts, and every word contained 
 in my present communication you may rely on. 
 
 LETTEB II. 
 
 Ballinamore, county Galway, Friday night, 
 27th March, 1846. 
 
 I this day, in company with three other gentlemen, paid a 
 second visit to Ballinlass, the result of which has more than 
 confirmed every statement made to me. But I must refer you 
 to my next letter for details of this second visit, as I wish to 
 proceed in the order in which my information was obtained. I 
 may here remark that the case has created the greatest excite- 
 ment in Galway and Boscommon, and that even amongst the 
 
 * The Gavins were very numerous here, but although there are several of 
 the same name, they each composed separate families. 
 
20 
 
 gentry and landlords it is deemed “ too bad but on this point 
 I shall have something to say hereafter. 
 
 I resume my conversation with the old man Bock, where I had 
 left off. I enquired of him “what will you do now ?” “ God 
 
 only knows, sir, for I do not ; I have been turned out in my 
 old days, and I don’t know where to go.” 
 
 Having concluded this conversation, and turning our back 
 upon the ruined village, I returned to Mount Bellew, and, on 
 arriving there along with Mr. Donovan, we were at once ac- 
 costed by seven or eight of the people who had been dispos- 
 sessed. They approached us with tears in their eyes. The 
 poor fellows looked very sad, and the women, many of whom 
 carried children in their arms, grouped around us as if we 
 could have restored them to their once peaceful homes. It was 
 a scene of deep melancholy ; several of the poor men were 
 questioned, and all told the same story that I have already 
 written. They repeated that they had offered the rent for their 
 holdings, but that it was refused. They described the pulling 
 down of the houses, &c. Here I met a gentleman (amongst 
 others) whose name I send you in confidence, to be used here- 
 after, if necessary. He said you ought to be cautious how you 
 take down what these persons say. I am a friend of huma- 
 nity, and I feel very much for the poor people, as I know they 
 have been treated very harshly, for they offered to pay their 
 rent, and, on equitable principles, ought not to have been 
 turned out, but of course they will tell you one side of the 
 story only. 
 
 Do you know anything about the facts, I asked — if so, you will 
 oblige me by stating what has comes within your knowledge? 
 Why I know the people have been turned out, at the same 
 time that they offered the rent that was due ; some of them 
 are in comfortable circumstances, and are able to procure places, 
 as they possess the means ; others are wretchedly poor, and 
 must go to the workhouse, if the neighbours do not support 
 them ; I know that some of them will be obliged to beg, and 
 are doing so already, but you ought to take down the two sides 
 of the question. I informed him that that was my duty, and 
 would feel thankful to him for stating any fact, assuring him 
 that I would record all I heard on either side. I then asked 
 him would the poorer portion of the people, whom he said 
 would be compelled to resort to the workhouses, or beg for 
 their bread, would they have been so circumstanced if they were 
 
21 
 
 permitted to remain in their humble habitations ? His answer 
 was, “ I don’t think they would, as their neighbours would 
 have given them assistance, and helped to pay the rent for them. ” 
 
 Then, would it not not have been better to let them remain 
 where they were ? Iam not prepared to say. 
 
 Why ? Why on the principle that a person can do as one 
 pleases with one’s own property. 
 
 That is good in law, though it may not always be humane or 
 or equitable. 
 
 Were these poor people given or offered any compensation ? 
 Yes, they were forgiven what rent they owed. 
 
 But they offered to pay it, according to their own relation, 
 and all they wanted was to remain in possession of their places ? 
 Oh ! I believe so. But some of them are very comfortable, 
 and I would advise you not to believe all they tell you. 
 
 Some of those ejected have informed me that orders were 
 given to other tenants not to allow them into their houses, nor 
 to afford them any relief ; do you think that is correct ? I 
 have heard such a story, but I don’t believe it, as I don’t think 
 any person could be so hard-hearted as to give such instruc- 
 tions. 
 
 I then entered the house of Mr. Tully, who keeps an inn, 
 attached to a grocery establishment, where several of the evicted 
 persons followed me. They formed a circle round me, each 
 man taking off his hat, and the women almost knelt to us. I 
 don’t know what they imagined was the purpose of my visit, 
 but they looked to Mr. Donovan and myself in the most piteous 
 manner, and asked did we think that they would be allowed to 
 go back and build their houses ? Mr. Donovan told them that 
 we could not afford them any relief, but if they had anything 
 to say that I would record it. Here we were joined by Mr. 
 Tully, the owner of the house, the gentleman above alluded to, 
 Mr. Kennedy, and Head-constable Dennehy, who is stationed 
 at Mount-Bellew, and who has charge of that district. 
 
 Mr. Donovan asked Mr. Dennehy if he were present at the 
 eviction on Friday, the 13th March ? The officer replied he 
 was ; and added, “ I never in the course of my experience saw 
 such a horrible sight.” Then, turning to me, he said, “Why, 
 sir, it would make the hair of your head stand on end ; and, if 
 you had the heart of a stone, not to speak of that of a man, it 
 would melt it. But you know I was there to do my duty.” 
 He then entered into a detail of the facts which I have already 
 
 c 
 
22 
 
 given, and added — “ It was stated that Mrs. Gerrard turned 
 out only about four hundred people ; why, of my own know- 
 ledge, I should say I think she has, within the last three years 
 and a half, turned out more than FOUR THOUSAND !” 
 
 “May I advance your authority for that, sir?” I asked. 
 
 “You may make the statement on my authority,” was the 
 answer. 
 
 “Well,” said I, “Mr. Donovan, you hear what this officer 
 says ?” “ I do,” said my friend. 
 
 “ And you may use it any way you please,” said the con- 
 stable, 4 4 and give me as your author ; and when I say FOUR 
 THOUSAND I think I am under the mark. I declare to God, 
 sir, I never saw such a sight as it was. The very dogs barked 
 and howled at us ;” and this public officer then confirmed the 
 story about the dog, which I have already given, and said he 
 saw it himself. 
 
 I repeated to him, in the presnce of Mr. Donovan, that I 
 would make use of what he said, and he again assured me I 
 might do so on his authority. He then on went to describe the 
 harrowing scene he had witnessed on the morning of the 13th. 
 The women and children, he said, ran out of the houses half 
 dressed, and their frantic screams, as they gathered up some 
 bit of clothing or furniture, was beyond all description terrifi- 
 cally painful. Some were to be seen running off with the sticks 
 that formed portions of the house roofs, and more of them, in 
 their bare feet, were helping the men to carry off the dung in 
 baskets on their backs and heads to the road side. Some of 
 them clung with wild tenacity to the door-posts from whence 
 they were dragged by the bailiffs, and those who could not be 
 got away ran a great risk of their lives by the tumbling down 
 of the roofs and walls, and many had very narrow escapes. I 
 was also informed by a person who said he saw one of the eject- 
 ments, that Lord Killeen’s name was in the process as a party. 
 The head constable of police, Mr. Dennehy, then proceed- 
 ed to say : — I speak in presence of Mr. Donovan, Mr. Tully, 
 and other gentlemen, and I have to say that I never knew a 
 more peaceable, quiet, or orderly people than those who lived 
 in that village. I never had a summons or complaint of any 
 kind against a man of them ; they were never charged with 
 any crime ; there never was a breach of the peace or any other 
 charge made against them ; and they were the honestest, most 
 industrious, and best behaved people of their class I ever knew. 
 
23 
 
 They were extremely sober, and it was a cruel thing to sepa- 
 rate them ; I never had a warrant out against one of them, and 
 I don’t think there were a more respectable set of people in 
 this country. 
 
 Mr. Tully corroborated every word spoken by Head-consta- 
 ble Dennehy, and said he knew the place since he was a 
 child, and he never knew a charge of any kind brought against 
 one of the people. He could say with truth that there was not 
 in Ireland better tenants than they were, but although some of 
 them had small means left, he was sorry, very sorry, to say 
 that others of them would never again see a house of their own 
 over their heads, particularly the widows and orphans. 
 
 I then asked Mr , the gentleman whose name I send you, 
 
 if he had anything to say ? and his reply was, No sir, but don’t 
 believe all you hear. 
 
 Head- constable Dennehy said — Mr. , are we not tel- 
 ling truth ? Mr. said — I don’t know ; and again addres- 
 
 sing me, said, dont credit all you hear — hear the other side 
 also. 
 
 I shall put down all I hear on either side — that is my busi- 
 ness here, and if you or any other gentleman has anything to 
 say, I assure you I shall take it down most willingly. 
 
 We are all here in presence of Mr. (meaning myself), 
 
 said Mr. Kennedy, and now is the time for us to tell him all. 
 We know that he will take it down. Have you any thing to 
 
 say ? I repeated the question put by Mr. Kennedy, to Mr 
 
 He said — I have nothing to say, but dont believe all you hear, 
 as, perhaps, it’s not so bad after all. He then bid us good 
 bye, and went away. 
 
 I then, in presence of Head-constable Dennehy, Mr, Tully, 
 Mr. Donovan, ‘Mr. Kennedy, and another gentleman, asked 
 some of the evicted people what they had to say ? The spokes- 
 man of the party, who appeared a respectable man, named 
 Gavin, and who spoke English very well, said he would tell 
 me the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 
 
 If you tell any thing else, said Mr. Dennehy, to this gentle- 
 man, I will contradict you, so mind what you say. I never 
 told a lie in my life to my knowing or knowledge said Gavin, 
 and I am not going to tell one now to the gentleman, before 
 you and the other gentlemen. He then gave me the list of the 
 families, and the number of persons who were turned out (I 
 have already forwarded that list to you), and asked Mr. 
 
24 
 
 Dennehy if it were not quite correct. The officer replied it was, 
 he believed, quite correct. 
 
 Gavin then entered into the details (which I have already 
 noted) and said, sir, is not that all true. The head-constable 
 replied it was all true. 
 
 I asked if orders had been given to other tenants on the 
 estate not to allow the poor people into their houses for 
 shelter? Gavin — It is true, sir, and I was refused to be let 
 into one tenant’s house, and I came here and took a lodging. 
 
 The gentlemen present said they had all heard the story. 
 
 Is it true that the other tenants were told not to give any 
 relief to the poor people ? Gavin — It is, sir ; and one of the 
 widows was refused a few potatoes, but it wasn’t their hearts 
 that made them do that, but the fear. 
 
 Tell me the names of the tenants who refused. Why, I will 
 if you like, sir, but it might bring them into trouble. 
 
 But here, in order to save post, I must conclude. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Ballinamore, County Galway, 
 
 27th March, 1846. 
 
 SECOND VISIT TO THE DESTROYED VILLAGE OF BALLINLASS. 
 
 Before entering into a history of yesterday’s visit to that 
 locality, I must finish my notes taken at Mount Bellew, the 
 preceding part of which I forwarded to you last night. Per- 
 haps the result of my inquiry here may be summed up in the 
 following most emphatic sentence of Mr. Tully, whose name, 
 and the observations made by him, are already before you. 
 He said — “ Sir, the parish chapel (meaning the parish in which 
 the village was situate), which used to be crowded, and where 
 you could not stir on a Sunday by reason of the numbers, is 
 now so deserted that you might make a ball-room of it ; for 
 since the people were turned out, it is all but empty. The 
 poor people who used to attend there have been swept away, 
 root and branch, and they are now scattered about in all direc- 
 tions.” After a great deal of general conversation on the 
 subject, I left Mount Bellew in company with my friend. On 
 the road towards Ballygar we overtook a gentleman, whose 
 name I send you. He is a professional man, and, as he told 
 me himself, a near relative of Mrs. Gerrard. I was fortunate 
 in meeting him, for I consider his evidence very important, at 
 
25 
 
 the same time that it was given freely and without prejudice. 
 He asked if I had witnessed the scene of destruction at Ballin- 
 lass ? I replied in the affirmative. 
 
 Did you ever see anything so frightful? he again asked. 
 Never. 
 
 Well, and do you see these two villages over there ? Yes. 
 
 They are under orders to quit, and the notices are actually 
 served on the inhabitants of one of them already. You may 
 give that on my authority. I don’t wish to speak harshly of a 
 lady, and she my own relation, but I can’t help saying, that 
 she is the greatest exterminator of tenantry in the county — 
 perhaps in Ireland, and it is not now she has commenced it — 
 she is at it more than twenty years. I will show you, along 
 the road here, for the next six miles, up to where her land 
 joins my father’s, where she has turned out hundreds — aye, 
 thousands of people for the last twenty years, and, as you will 
 perceive, turned the places into bullock pastures. 
 
 We proceeded along the road, and at every step he gave me 
 ample testimony of what he had stated. The land appears to 
 be very fine, and was covered with immense herds of bullocks. 
 The gentleman communicated many facts to me ; but I think 
 it right to confine myself to the recent affair, as that was, I 
 believe, your object in sending me down. I have given the 
 facts as I found them, coupled with the authority, and it will 
 be for the public to draw their conclusions. Of course, I heard 
 a great many stories about harsh and cruel treatment, but you 
 will find I have not noticed them, except on the most indis- 
 putable evidence. I now pass over a variety of matter, and 
 come at once to my 
 
 SECOND VISIT TO THE SCENE OF DESTRUCTION, 
 
 And, after reading the facts, let them speak trumpet-tongued 
 to the world of the desolation that reigns here. Early on 
 Thursday morning, by appointment, I met Mr. Tully, of the 
 Roscommon Journal , Mr. P. Ryan, of the Victoria Hotel, Ros- 
 common, and Mr. Donovan, of Ballygar, and we proceeded at 
 once to the place. Mr. Ryan, who is an eminent engineer 
 and surveyor, came from Roscommon (18 miles) specially 
 to make a map of the place, which he has done. The first 
 object that caught our eyes was the poor old man (Tliady 
 Rock,) before alluded to, on the road side, with a fork in his 
 hand, scraping up some dung that lay in the ditch. It was 
 pitiable to look at him — I shall not attempt description. On 
 
 c 2 
 
26 
 
 asking him what he was doing ? he replied, “ scraping up this 
 bit of manure, as it’s all I have left now. I am striving to 
 make out a few bits, if I can get a potato to sow. We went 
 down the togher to the place where the village had been, and 
 on our approach towards the first ruin, we heard a wild and 
 piercing cry. We looked, but saw nothing, still the cry con- 
 tinued. A little onward, and we saw all. I protest to heaven, 
 the scene outstrips all imagination. I would to God I had 
 never beheld it, for it has affected me physically and mentally 
 since, and the gentlemen who accompanied me, protest before 
 heaven, that they would not accept the emperorship of the 
 world, on the terms of again beholding such another sight. 
 On a ditch, under a thorn, sat two as pretty girls as I have 
 ever seen, and two old women (both widows) ; and from these, 
 and two boys who were a few paces off, the cry proceeded. On 
 observing us — for we came on them rather suddenly — they 
 started up and ran away, for the poor creatures imagined we 
 were going to hunt them off. One of my friends (they all 
 spoke Irish) called after them in Irish, and they immediately 
 stopped. We went over to them, and I asked one of the 
 women what they were crying for? She could not speak 
 English, but in reply to my friends, she said they came to cry 
 over the ruins where their fathers for three generations had 
 been born, and reared ; but they thought we were going to 
 hunt them off. They were assured that we had no such in- 
 tention, and that we only came to see the place, and make some 
 inquiry. One of the old women then turned to the other, and 
 said these are the gentlemen, and that’s the other gentleman 
 (pointing at me) sent by the Queen (for I had been magnified 
 into a government commissioner by more than the poor people, 
 (but of that hereafter) from England, to see the misery, God 
 bless him. Of course this is a translation, as the only word I 
 could recognise was “ sassanagh” This incident might have 
 made me laugh at another moment, but I assure you from 
 what I saw and the wailing which I heard around me, my feel- 
 ings were at that time very foreign from a disposition to indulge 
 in mirth. I asked one of the girls if she spoke English, and 
 she replied she did. Whose daughter are you ? Thady Kil- 
 martin’s. Did you live here ? Yes, sir, (and she burst into 
 an uncontrolled fit of wailing, that still rings in my ears). 
 We lived over there (pointing to the house), but they came 
 and threw it down a- top of us. Well, where do you live now ? 
 
27 
 
 Over there (pointing in the direction of Mount Bellew). How 
 old are you ? About 14 or 15 years. What brought you here 
 now ? I came to look for an old pot to boil a few potatoes. Has 
 your father much potatoes now ? Only very little, sir, said 
 the girl, sobbing loudly. I then turned to the other, one of 
 the sweetest-faced children (about 12 years of age) I had ever 
 beheld. She too was wailing, but not so louldly as the others. 
 There sat the poor girl with her petticoat wrapped round her 
 shoulders, and rocking to and fro. “Well, my poor child,” 
 said I, “what are you crying for?” She looked full in my 
 face, strove to give me a reply, but she failed ; her tears and 
 sobs almost choked her. I offered her a few words of consola- 
 tion — I should rather say I spoke kindly to her, and in some 
 time she was able to converse with me, as she had for the moment 
 conquered her feelings. “ Whose daughter are you ?” “ Pat 
 
 Nail’s, sir.” “ Where did your house stand?” “ There, sir,” 
 pointing to the ruin, and again she burst out crying. She was 
 joined by the old woman (the Widow Gavin), and the two 
 boys. I was even more affected than I would care to mention 
 upon paper, and my companions shed tears. 
 
 Mr. Donovan asked the old woman of what use was it to be 
 crying there ? The answer was, sure they might be allowed 
 to cry where their three generations before them lived. The 
 scene reminded me of some of those desolations so touchingly 
 described in scripture. The poor village of Ballinlass was a 
 Jerusalem to its own daughters. Mr. By an then commenced 
 making a sketch of the place, and the old woman with the two 
 boys accompanied us, giving any information we required, as 
 to who lived here — how much land each person had, &c. After 
 going on for some time, one of the boys said, rather alarmed — 
 “Look, here’s Kenny, one of the bailiffs, coming.” “Well, 
 my boy,” said I, “what of that?” “Maybe, sir,” said the 
 poor fellow, “ he’ll put us off.” “ Do not be alarmed,” said I. 
 Kenny came up shortly after, and he was not over a minute 
 with us when the boys — as if by magic — disappeared, and we 
 saw no more of them. I don’t know why they left us, but the 
 observation made by the little fellow a short time before may 
 lead to a solution. Kenny, however, did not attempt to exter- 
 minate us ; he went with us all through, and altogether I am 
 bound to say that, although he was exceeding chary of his 
 answers (I don’t blame him for that), he acted civilly, and I 
 was very glad that I met him, as I consider his evidence 
 
28 
 
 important. After some general conversation we proceeded 
 with Mr. Ryan, who was still sketching as we went on. That 
 gentleman asked Kenny what the land was an acre at the boggy 
 side of the togher ? There are two of the tenants (said Kenny, 
 pointing to the widows), they will tell you all you want to know. 
 
 I told Kenny that we would be very glad of his company, 
 and that we would feel obliged by his contradicting any of their 
 statements if they told us anything save truth. This he pro- 
 mised to do, and went on with us. 
 
 “ Well,” said Mr. Ryan to the women, “ what was paid an 
 acre for this land ?” Thirty shillings. Is it for that land next 
 the bog ? Yes, sir. Is that true, Mr. Kenny ? Oh, yes, it 
 was taken all around at thirty shillings first, but you know the 
 other side is a great deal better than this. 
 
 Mr. Ryan is a practical man, and knows the value of land 
 well : he holds extensively himself, and he declared most posi- 
 tively that the land at the left next the bog was not worth more 
 than from ten to fifteen shillings an acre, the latter being over 
 the mark for the best portion of it. I stated in a former letter 
 that the land at the back of the village was good, and so it 
 is, considering, as already remarked, that it was partly re- 
 claimed by the people, who made it good land for its parti- 
 cular kind. I never meant to say that it was land of a first- 
 rate quality — what I meant was as above, and I now repeat it 
 was good land. Mr. Ryan valued it at a pound an acre, some 
 of it might be worth a little more, but the average was a pound, 
 allowing the tenants to live. 
 
 Well, Mr. Kenny, said Mr. Ryan, if you built a house in that 
 field, or suppose you got one built for you, would you under- 
 take to pay 30s. an acre for it? I don’t know, there are the 
 tenants and they will tell you all. 
 
 Mr. Ryan — Row, don’t you know ’in your conscience, as an 
 honest man, it’s not worth 10s. an acre? I don’t know any- 
 thing about it ? 
 
 Mr. Ryan — It’s not worth 10s. yet it was let at 30s. and the 
 people paid, and were willing to pay that sum for it, but they 
 were turned out, notwithstanding, and don’t you think that a 
 great hardship ? I don’t know anything about it, they will 
 tell you all themselves. 
 
 I asked Kenny did the people owe any rent ? They did to 
 be sure. 
 
 Mr. Ryan — But they offered to pay it, did they not ? 
 
29 
 
 Kenny — If they did, do you think they would be ejected? 
 
 Mr. Donovan — Did not Mick Connor offer to pay his rent, 
 and were you not present as well as myself on that occasion ? 
 Yes, I saw him, but I don’t know anything about it. 
 
 Mr. Donovan — You may be put on your oath, perhaps, about 
 this business ; so can’t you as well oblige us by answering our 
 questions — that is anything you know ? 
 
 Kenny — Oh ! when I am on my oath, I’ll tell the truth then. 
 
 Mr. Tully — Then you are not telling truth now ? I don’t 
 know whether I am or not. 
 
 Mr. Ryan — What would you give, or what would you offer 
 for that land ? When I am going to get it I know what to 
 offer for it. I’ll tell you nothing more ; they are there them- 
 selves, and let them tell all about it. 
 
 I again asked him to come with us, and contradict anything 
 they told us, if not correct, and this he promised to do, and 
 kept his promise. 
 
 The women were asked if they were able and willing to pay 
 the rent, and if so, did they offer it to any person, and to whom ? 
 They replied that they were able and willing to pay the rent, 
 and so were the majority of the people in the village, but those 
 who were able offered to pay for those who were not, and all 
 (by such means) offered to pay the rent except one man. 
 (That was exactly what poor Rock told me.) 
 
 Kenny — Don’t you know as well as I do, that you didn’t pay 
 the rent ? Women — Yes, but didn’t we offer to pay it, but it 
 wouldn’t be taken. 
 
 Kenny — No, you didn’t offer to pay the rent ; sure if you 
 did you would not have been turned out. 
 
 Women — Oh, Paddy Kenny, Paddy Kenny, how can you 
 say that — were not you present when we offered the rent, 
 and it wouldn’t be taken ? Kenny — Yes ; but you wouldn’t 
 give it unless you got receipts for it. 
 
 Mr. Tully observed that it was quite natural for people who 
 paid money for rent, or anything else, to require a receipt 
 for it. 
 
 Kenny — Yes, but they never got receipts before. 
 
 I asked him to explain this, but he would not, or could not, 
 when Mr. Tully elucidated it as follows : 
 
 It appears that the “ one man,” so often before mentioned, 
 who refused to pay the rent, had some of his land let to under- 
 tenants. He went away, leaving some rent due ; the people 
 
30 
 
 offered the rent which they used to pay this man to the agent 
 of Mrs. Gerrard, and demanded receipts, but he would not 
 give any receipt except one “ on account” of rent due. The 
 people owed no rent, and therefore they refused to take receipts 
 on'account. I shall give you a more elaborate history of this 
 point hereafter, hut at present I must pursue the plan which I 
 laid down at first, namely, that of going on step by step, as I 
 have proceeded day by day since I came here. When Mr. 
 Tully had ceased speaking about the receipts, 
 
 Kenny said — Oh, aye, sir, that was the excuse they had, you 
 know, but they didn’t pay the rent all the time. 
 
 Look (said one of the widows), see how they threw down the 
 house here on my little bit of manure, the only hope I had to 
 set a potatoe. 
 
 Kenny — Well, and wasn’t that your own fault ; didn’t Mrs. 
 Gerrard offer to send carts to carry away all the dung, and 
 everything else, but you wouldn’t take it out ? Yes, indeed, 
 said the woman, a purty way it was to offer carts to take away 
 our bit of dung, when she ordered the toglier to be cut across, 
 to prevent cars, or even ourselves from passing. 
 
 No, she did’nt, said Kenny 
 
 The road has been cut across in several places, said one of 
 my friends ; what was it done for ? I don’t know, said Kenny, 
 but it wasn’t done for that. 
 
 Then, what was it done for ? Kenny — I don’t know ; sure 
 they are there themselves, and they will tell you all. 
 
 Let me observe, here, that the road was not cut across for the 
 purpose alleged by the widow women, and Kenny was quite 
 right in asserting it was not ; but I will tell you what it was 
 cut for. There is a village some distance to the east of Bal- 
 linlass, on the estate of Mr. Cheevers, and the people of this 
 village used sometimes to make the togher through Ballinlass a 
 short cut going to Mountbellew, Galway, &c. , and the road was 
 cut across to prevent that. 
 
 Here I must break off for this evening, as the post is gone, 
 and I must send this to Koscommon. 
 
31 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 Roscommon, Saturday Night, 
 
 28th March, 1846. 
 
 I wrote you yesterday from Ballinamore, in Galway ; I have 
 since come to this town. Without further preface I continue 
 my second visit to Bailinlass. At the point where I was obliged 
 to conclude my last letter, we were joined by a poorly dressed 
 man, but he was clean and very decent looking — There now, 
 said Kenny (the bailiff), is one more of the tenants, and he will 
 tell you all you want to know. 
 
 Were you one of the people who were turned out? I was, 
 sir, and there is my poor old house, sticks and all. 
 
 What is your name ? Thady Kilmartin. 
 
 I now wish to put a question to you, said I, and give me the 
 answer here in presence of Kenny, in order that he may con- 
 tradict you if you don’t speak the truth. Do you know of 
 your own knowledge, of any tenant residing on Mrs. Gerrard’s 
 property who, either in writing or by word of mouth, got notice 
 not to let in any person who was turned out of this village ? I 
 do not indeed, sir. 
 
 Did you hear that such an order was given to any one ? I 
 did not, indeed, sir. 
 
 I told Kenny I was very glad to hear the man say so, and 
 Kenny said he never heard of such an order. 
 
 Mr. Tully — But where are you living now ? At the house 
 of my sister. 
 
 Is she a tenant on the estate of Mrs. Gerard ? She is, and I 
 don’t think it likely such an order would be sent to her, for 
 they know right well she would not take it, as she let in my- 
 self and my family, or we might starve and die in the ditches. 
 Such an order might be given but I never heard of it. 
 
 Kenny then asked me if I were satisfied that such an order 
 was not given ? I told him so far as Kilmartin had gone I was 
 quite satisfied that he had not heard either of any person get- 
 ting such an order, or the order itself, but that I was told such 
 an order had been given. He declared he never heard of it. 
 
 Mr. Ryan (to Kenny) — Now can’t you tell me if you would 
 give 30s. an acre for this land ? Kenny — I would not give 
 30s. for it, but the people who were turned out gave it, and 
 
32 
 
 they are now looking for places not as good, and offering more 
 than that for them, but you see they can’t get any place so 
 good as this for any money. 
 
 Tell me, said Mr. Tully, who owns all the property about 
 here? Mrs. Gerrard. 
 
 For miles around asked Mr. Donovan? Yes, except where 
 the mearings run in. 
 
 How many acres has she about here ? I don’t know, but 
 I heard them say about 12 thousand acres. 
 
 Then, said Mr. Tully, it is not very wonderful why the poor 
 people can’t get places about here. 
 
 I can’t tell you, sir, said Kenny, there are worse landlords 
 in the county of Galway than Mr. and Mrs. Gerrard. 
 
 My good friend, Kenny, said I, you mistake us. We did not 
 say they are bad landlords. 
 
 I know you didn’t sir. 
 
 Nor did one of my friends ? No sir, certainly, but maybe 
 you and them think she is a bad landlord, do you sir, said the 
 fellow looking at me with a degree of rogueish interrogating 
 simplicity that was positively provoking. 
 
 I looked at the fellow, but perhaps I have no right to apply 
 a disparaging epithet to him, as he was obliged to do, as the 
 police say, “his duty.” I looked at the man as did my com- 
 panions, and he shrunk from beneath our gaze ; one of my 
 friends in the excitement of the moment made use of an ex- 
 pression which I shall not record here, but under the peculiar 
 circumstances of the case and the feelings by which he was 
 actuated, it was perhaps pardonable. 
 
 There is land let in this county dearer than this was, said 
 Kenny. 
 
 Where? asked Mr. Tully? Under Martin French, replied 
 Kenny. 
 
 But does he exterminate the tenantry on his property? 
 I never heard he did. 
 
 Has he any worse land than this let at such a high rent ? 
 No, I don’t think he has, but I will het you a pound that I show 
 you worse land in the county? I don’t doubt that. 
 
 Well, will you het the pound, said Kenny, with another 
 rogueish wink at me ? Not just now, Mr. Kenny, you are too 
 well up to these matters. 
 
 I asked Kenny if he thought the land was let too high ? 
 That was their own consarn , said he, some of them had 50s. an 
 
33 
 
 acre from the under tenants, bad as the land was, and she 
 (Mrs. Gerrard) got only 30s. for it. Pat Connally paid 50s. 
 for it, and he was one of the under tenants. 
 
 Mr. Donovan — And yet Mrs. Gerrard put him out ? Kenny 
 — And why not, when she didn’t get her rent. 
 
 Mr. Tully — But was not the rent offered to herself or her 
 agent? Kenny — I have nothing to do with that, I suppose 
 she can do what she likes with her own land. 
 
 Mr Donovan — Will she set this land again? Kenny — I 
 
 don’t know what her intentions may be about that. 
 
 Mr. Tully — It will feed bullocks very well for her ; 
 
 Kenny — Well, and may she not do that if she likes, I suppose f 
 
 We were now joined by a poor sickly looking man. Dis- 
 ease and want were depicted in his face. His haggard look 
 and deep dejection, told that his disease was both mental and 
 bodily. Kenny said, here is another of the tenants, and he 
 will tell you all. 
 
 And of course Mr. Kenny you will listen to any thing he 
 says, and contradict him if he states a falsehood, I said. 
 
 Kenny — Of course I will, sir. you appear to be a gentleman, 
 but these other gentlemen are too hot for me. 
 
 Never mind, I replied, I don’t wonder at their being excited at 
 this horrible sight ; you appear to be an intelligent Galway man, 
 and is it not a shocking thing to look on ? Kenny — I dont know, 
 sure they will tell you all themselves as I know nothing about it. 
 
 But you can’t help looking at what is before you ? Kenny — 
 Very well sir. 
 
 I then asked the man who had recently joined us, his name, 
 and he replied Mathew Rock. 
 
 Do you live here ? The man looked at me with tears in his 
 eyes, and lapping his coat — not an outside one — about his chest 
 and neck, and pointing to a prostrate house, said — “Hived 
 there before now , sir.” 
 
 Did you owe any rent ? Rock — I did, sir. 
 
 Were you able to pay it ? Why, I was, sir. I made a shift 
 to get the money. 
 
 Did you pay your rent, then ? No, sir. 
 
 Why not ? Because it wouldn’t be taken from me. 
 
 Why so ? I don’t know, your honour. 
 
 When did you offer to pay the rent ? I offered it every May 
 and November for the last five half years. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 Did the other tenants offer the rent also ? Every one of 
 them but one, sir. 
 
 The herd, Kenny, here, says you neither paid rent, nor 
 offered to pay it; is that true? No, sir, it is not, and I say 
 before his face, we did offer to pay the rent, every May and 
 November. 
 
 Is that true, Kenny ? I don’t know. 
 
 Rock — You know it is, and I say we did offer to pay it. 
 Kenny — Sure if you did, you would not have been ejected . 
 
 Don’t you know in your heart and soul, said Rock, that we 
 offered the rent, and that it would not be taken ? 
 
 * Kenny— Didn’t Mr. Holmes (the head agent and attorney 
 of Mrs. Gerrard, as I was informed) come down here last 
 harvest,- along with Mr. O’Loughlen (the gentleman who acted 
 as law-agent of the poor people), and wasn’t your crop going 
 to be seized for the rent ? and didn’t you then, to save the crop, 
 make an agreement with the gentlemen, and sign your hands 
 to it ? Rock — Yes, we signed a paper, but we did not know 
 what it was about, as we left it all to our attorney, but they 
 turned it against us after. 
 
 Kenny— What made you sign it, then ? Rock — Because we 
 did not know the meaning of it. 
 
 I asked him to tell me when he offered the last gale of rent ? 
 and he replied in May last. 
 
 Kenny — Sure you were processed for rent before you signed 
 the consent. Rock — Yes, we signed the consent because we 
 were fools, and did not know what it was for. 
 
 As none of the people could tell me anything about this 
 consent, I asked my friends to explain it, which they did as 
 follows : — you will recollect that some of the people paid rent 
 to others, and to this I have already alluded, and that when 
 one of these middle-men went away the people offered to pay 
 the rent to the owner of the land but it was refused, unless a 
 sum of £40 alleged to be due by Gavin (that was the man’s 
 name) was paid also. I may as well state here the whole history 
 of this part of the case, and you will perceive by the conversa- 
 tion that followed that it is correct. Tom Gavin held land (I 
 could not ascertain the exact quantity) to the amount of £80 
 a year ; he was a man, I am credibly informed, worth some 
 thousands, and was known in all parts of Galway as ‘ 4 Wealthy 
 Tom” — I forget what the Irish of the expression is. He had 
 
35 
 
 only one daughter. I met a gentleman on whose veracity you 
 may rely for the following curious fact. He met Tom one day 
 at the market of Mount Belle w, and said to him, jokingly, 
 Tom, will you give me your daughter ? Tom replied he would, 
 and welcome. And what fortune will you give her? If she 
 likes you, said Tom, and consents to marry you, I’ll give you 
 three thousand guineas, and maybe you would not he 
 left trusting to that when I’m dying. Tom invited the gentle- 
 man to his house, and he went. He gave me the most 
 ludicrous account I have ever heard, of the hut of this miser , 
 but I must content myself by stating, that he found a couple ct 
 cows, a goat, and two pigs, tied up in the same apartment where 
 his ‘‘intended” lay snugly on a wad of straw in the corner.. 
 He (my friend) had new top-boots on at the time, and he took 
 them off to get the mud taken from them. Peggy, herself, 
 took them under special charge, and brought them back nicely 
 cleaned, but apologised that she couldn’t blacken the tops as 
 as well as the bottoms. The fact was, added my friend, the 
 boots were spoiled, and I never wore them after. And of 
 course you didn’t marry Peg gy ? No, he replied, and for a 
 good and very excellent reason. What was it? Simply this 
 — that Peggy told me, plump in my face, she wouldn’t have 
 me if I was twice as great a gentleman ; that when I would 
 have the money with her, that’s all I wanted, and then I would 
 not care a tranheen about her ; and said she would marry a 
 barefooted boy, that would love and like her, and not a fellow 
 like me that wore such grand boots. I asked the gentleman 
 seriously if Gavin was worth £3,000, and he assured me on his 
 honour, that he knew him to be worth over £6,000 at that 
 time (some years ago), and that he was, of course, worth more 
 now, as he was a great miser, and put by large sums of monfey 
 every year. This episodical departure from the course of my 
 story, is hardly pardonable, but the story struck me, and, as 
 they say in the country, I nearly died laughing at the details 
 given by my friend, and I could not deny myself the pleasure 
 of putting the fact very shortly on record, notwithstanding 
 the grave subject on which I am engaged. But to return. 
 Gavin went away to another part of the county, where his 
 daughter had got married. He left his land at Ballinlass to 
 the people, and told them to do what they liked with it. It 
 was alleged that he owed £40, and until this was paid, no rent 
 would be taken from the tenants except on “account,” and as 
 
36 
 
 they owed nothing, they refused to take receipts on account. 
 It appears, then, I said, that this was what gave rise to the recent 
 extermination ; no, added my friend (authorising me to use 
 his name), that was just used as a pretext to get the people 
 out, for Mrs. Gerrard and the agent knew very well that they 
 could recover £40, or as many hundreds, from Gavin (if he 
 owed it) at any time they thought fit. In order to preserve 
 the thread of my story, I must now necessarily travel, as it 
 were, backward, and note what took place after, and the 
 continuation of the conversation with Kenny and the people. 
 
 I asked, who was Mr. O’Loughlin, and I was informed that 
 he was an attorney who undertook to defend the ejectments. 
 
 And were they defended ? Not at all. 
 
 Explain this. Holmes and O’Loughlin came down here ; the 
 people had been served, and they were advised to sign consents 
 for decrees against them ; the poor people did not know what 
 they were doing, and they signed the consent, and, at the next 
 sessions, the decrees were obtained behind their backs. 
 
 Rock said that was quite true, and appealed to Kenny if it 
 were not so. 
 
 Kenny met the appeal with the never-failing escape-hole 
 answer of “ I don’t know.” 
 
 Come, said Rock, with a degree of manly indignation — come, 
 if you be a man, and answer me this : Did not you see Holmes 
 pay £55 to O’Loughlin in my presence ? Kenny stood mute 
 for a while, and, looking up at the clouds, he said, I saw you 
 with them, but I don’t know what it was about. 
 
 I declare to God, said Rock, and I am ready to swear it, I 
 saw Holmes pay O’Loughlin £55 before my face, and, Paddy 
 Kenny, you are the man who was present by at the time. 
 
 I asked what was this money paid for ? and Rock replied for 
 costs. 
 
 For what costs ? I don’t know. 
 
 I will explain this to you, said one of my friends. The poor 
 people, when served with the notices, were advised to take de- 
 fence ; and I understand that there was a legal defect in the 
 notices, on which they would have succeeded, but I am not 
 certain of that, as I could not get one. They (the people) 
 went to Mr. O’Loughlin, and employed him to do the business, 
 and he proceeded accordingly. I don’t know how the consent 
 was managed, but, at all events, it was obtained. The parties 
 then met at Mountbellew, and the rent was offered to the 
 
37 
 
 agent, but lie would not take it, as he had the consent. The 
 costs incurred, up to this period of the case, by Mr. O’Logh- 
 lin, amounted to £55 : and, of course, Holmes paid him, and 
 that was the money Rock saw paid . That’s the history of that, 
 said my friend. 
 
 The fact, then, is, that the people were regularly trapped 
 into the consent? We were, sir, said Rock, for if we thought 
 that any howlt would be taken of us for signing the paper to 
 turn us out, you know we wouldn’t have done it. 
 
 Do you blame Mr. O’Loughlin ? No, sir, we don’t blame 
 him at all. 
 
 Mr. Tully said, Mr. O’Loughlin was a high-minded, honour- 
 able, and honest man, and one that would not be guilty of any- 
 thing disreputable , and the fact was, he (Mr. Tully) believed 
 that Mr. O’Loughlin had been deceived as well as the people, 
 as he had done the best he could for his clients, but had been 
 deceived by the specious promises made to him, but these pro- 
 mises were not kept. 
 
 I asked Rock what took place after that ? He said that 
 ejectment processes were brought against them, and that Mr. 
 Freeman, the assistant-barrister, gave decrees on the consent. 
 
 Then the fact is, the case was not defended at the sessions at 
 all ? Rock — Not at all, sir ; sure we didn’t know anything 
 about it at the time. 
 
 Where are you living now ? There above, sir. 
 
 On whose property ? On Mr. Cheevers’. 
 
 Did you hear of any order given by the bailiffs to the tenants 
 of Mrs. Gerrard not to let in any of the people who were 
 turned out of this village ? I did 
 
 Did you go into any of the tenants’ houses ? I did. 
 
 Did any one say against you going into these houses ? No. 
 
 And they gave you any assistance you required ? They did, 
 certainly. 
 
 Now tell me, before Kenny here, if you know of any person 
 who was told by the bailiffs not to let any of you into the 
 houses, or give you relief or assistance? Why John Hughes 
 told Billy Gavin that he would not let him in, as he was told 
 not to do so, and that he (Gavin) ought to go into the poorhouse. 
 
 Where does Hughes live ? A good way from this. 
 
 Did Hughes say who gave him the notice? Yes, he said 
 one of the bailiffs, who told him it was her (Mrs. Gerrard’s^) 
 order, and not to displease or disobey her. d 2 
 
38 
 
 Tell me this now, and be very particular, in order that 
 Kenny may hear your answer — will you bring me to the house, 
 
 or show me any person that got such an order ? Rock I can, 
 
 sir, and will get it sworn to. 
 
 Kilmartin (I said) there never heard such an order, nor was 
 he refused admission into any house. 
 
 Rock — Well, sir, that maybe, but I will tell you now in the 
 presence of Paddy Kenny, and let him contradict me if he can, 
 what I heard myself. 
 
 Well, go on. 
 
 The week we were turned out, I was sick — very bad, I was 
 at the time, and I did not think I would live. (The poor man 
 looked wretchedly ill.) I was anointed — is not that true, Paddy 
 Kenny ? Kenny — I certainly heard you were sick, but I did 
 not know you were anointed. 
 
 Rock — I was, and every person knows it, and if you don’t 
 believe me, I can get the priest to tell it. 
 
 Well, tell me what you heard. 
 
 Rock — I heard Mr. Holmes say to my poor wife, that he 
 would never allow her into any house on the estate, that is a 
 house for herself, but she might go into a barn, or cow-house, 
 until she got a place off the estate. 
 
 You hear that, Kenny ? I said. I have nothing to say to it, 
 he replied. 
 
 Well, and are you living in a stable, or cow-house, now ? 
 I am, sir, and glad to get one. 
 
 Is it on the estate of Mrs. Gerrard ? It is, sir, Mr. Holmes 
 never said against any one going into a stable, or barn, or 
 cow-house, it was only the dwelling-houses he refused us. 
 
 Were you ill when you were turned out? I was very bad. 
 
 What ailed you ? Fever ; and I did not think they would 
 throw down the houses. I thought all they wanted was pos- 
 session, and that we would get into the houses again. 
 
 How do you live now ? I mean how do you support your- 
 self? (Here let me implore the attention of my readers to the 
 man’s answer.) “ How do Hive,” said he, repeating my ques- 
 tion, and giving such a look of horror and despair — such a 
 look — but no, description is useless, let the reply be the des- 
 cription, “ I have 8 persons in family, and I have not 8 baskets 
 of potatoes in the world to feed them, and they (the potatoes) 
 not good either. I have not as much as will do them for a 
 fortnight, and I wont have a bit to eat on Easter Sunday — 
 
39 
 
 God help me, I don’t know what to do, or where to go,” and 
 the poor fellow buried his pale face in his hands and sobbed 
 loudly. It was truly affecting ; my friends — and I honour their 
 names for it — they wept bitterly, and even Kenny was affected, 
 for although he thought to conceal it, I saw tears in his eyes. 
 
 LETTER. V. 
 
 Roscommon, Sunday, 
 
 29th March, 1846. 
 
 In opening this letter I have only to observe that it is a con- 
 tinuation of my last. 
 
 Did you (I asked Rock) ever go to Mrs. Gerrard yourself 
 and tell her your case ? 
 
 Rock — We went to the lodge with the rent and asked to see 
 her. She came out, but went in immediately. We then asked 
 to see the master (Mr. Gerrard), and he came out and was 
 speaking to us at the door, when the mistress thought he was 
 stopping too long ; and she came out and told him to come in 
 out of that, and not to be annoying himself with us or our 
 affairs, and Paddy Kenny knows that. 
 
 I know nothing about you, said Kenny. 
 
 We asked Kenny if he knew how many tenants were in the 
 land ? He said that thirty tenants took the whole farm at first, 
 and brought their families to the village. 
 
 I said that the two widows (Gavin) had stated that their 
 three generations had lived there, and that Thady Rock said 
 he resided there for over 68 years. 
 
 Kenny said perhaps that was true, as there were under 
 tenants who lived there for a long time. The thirty tenants 
 (he said) who took the land altogether at 30s. an acre, about 
 17 years ago, let the undertenants remain. 
 
 How many families were in the village altogether ? Kenny 
 — Why the 30 who took it, and they brought in about 30 or 40 
 more, including undertenants and all. 
 
 By this time Mr. Ryan had finished his sketch, and as the 
 day was advancing we prepared to depart. 
 
 The people came with us to the road, and gave us their 
 blessing as we bid a final farewell for the present to the Gerrard- 
 ised village of Ballinlass. 
 
 The word “ Gerrardised ,” in the last sentence, has been 
 
40 
 
 substituted down here for the well-known and common-place 
 word, exterminated, and perhaps it will answer the purpose 
 just as well, or better, as the people know the idea much easier 
 by the former than the latter name, the only difficulty being 
 that the substitution will not be found in a quarto volume of 
 Johnson’s dictionary. 
 
 When we were preparing to leave the village we learned 
 that Mr. Holmes, Mr. Gerrard’s law agent, was coming post 
 from Galway, and was expected every moment to a house some 
 distance off. I was much pleased at this piece of information, 
 as I imagined an opportunity would be afforded me of having 
 a conversation with Mr. Holmes, which I very much desired. 
 We waited a considerable time on the road that Mr. Holmes 
 should pass, but ffie did not arrive; so, having a long road 
 before us, and the day waxing late, we departed. 
 
 I will here mention to you a statement that I have heard, 
 made upon every side of me. The matter as it is told by pub- 
 lic rumour, is certainly not true ; I mention it to you to show 
 the degree of irritation and excitement that is abroad through 
 the country — the result of this deplorable extermination. It 
 is commonly stated and believed that Mrs. Gerrard, on being 
 saluted by some person, and asked how she did, replied — 
 “ Thank you, I am well, thriving, and getting fat on the 
 curses of the wretches .” I heard this on sufficiently good au- 
 thority to make it well worth my while to inquire into its 
 truth. It is firmly believed anong the country people. I 
 satisfied myself, however, that Mrs. Gerrard never used such 
 an expression, and that she is a lady of such habits and m an- 
 ners that a phrase so coarse — not to speak of its inhumanity — 
 could not possibly have fallen from her. I proceeded to trace 
 the foundation of this statement; and I heard upon high 
 authority that Mr. Gerrard, in reply to some persons who 
 made some allusion to the exasperation existing among the 
 people in consequence of the clearances he had made from time 
 o time, answered that his bullocks were fattening on the lands 
 and thriving on the curses of the wretches. Of course I do 
 not vouch for this. Though I heard it on most respectable 
 authority, I cannot believe it ; but the worse rumour is fully 
 believed among the country people. I mention this circum- 
 stances to show you the terrible feeling of hostility that these 
 clearances give rise to between landlord land tenant, and how 
 much evil these parties are ready to believe of one another. 
 
41 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 Roscommon Monday. 
 
 I now resume. On arriving at Bally gar in the evening, we 
 met the professional gentleman — Mrs. Gerrard’s relation — 
 whom I made mention of in a former letter, to which I refer 
 your readers in order to keep up the chain of this history. 
 After some general conversation, I was asked if I saw the 
 place where she turned out the friars at Tougheragara ? I 
 replied in the affirmative, and said as it was a somewhat stale 
 transaction I did not intend to notice it. 
 
 You ought then, said Mr. , for she whacked the poor old 
 
 priests out of it, and left nothing standing but the little chapel 
 — I suppose she was afraid or ashamed to touch that ; there is 
 a poor old priest there and you would pity him. (The speaker 
 is a protestant, and of high Conservative principles, and a 
 most respectable gentleman.) 
 
 I asked him if he had any quarrel with his relation , and I 
 did so with the intention of ascertaining if he were swayed by 
 prejudice against her. His reply was we never had a quarrel, 
 I am one of her heirs, but I don’t know whether she will leave 
 me anything or not. I don’t care for that, as I never liked 
 her, because she was such an exterminator, still I must say 
 she is a lady in manners — she is most accomplished and polite. 
 There was a general reply of “ I dare say.” 
 
 We walked about the town to see the market, and were fol- 
 lowed by a large crowd of people, who gazed, (my friends were 
 all well-known to the people), pointed at, and spoke about me 
 (all in Irish), as the “ government man,” until I felt actually 
 ashamed. A very large landed proprietor — one of the largest 
 in the county — sent a professional friend of his to the house 
 of a gentleman where I had visited at Ballygar, to ascertain 
 “if I really were a government commissioner, and what 
 brought me down ? And if I were not a commissioner, to find 
 out who and what I was, for he had heard a great deal about 
 me, and was anxious to know it all.” The gentleman to whom 
 this application was made, in order to have a joke, mystified 
 the occasion of my appearance very much, and this set the 
 whole country on the qui vive , and every person formed their 
 own opinion, and I need hardly tell you with what alacrity 
 
42 
 
 they magnified me into “the great man.” Here a very 
 respectable-looking and well-dressed female, about thirty-two 
 years of age, addressed us. Mr. Tully knew her, and she 
 said her husband was dead, and was brother to an attorney in 
 Dublin. I live in Crow Village, said she, and we have been 
 all served with notices to quit. I don’t know what we will do. 
 (This is one of the villages mentioned already.) 
 
 Have you got one of the notices ? Yes, said the woman and 
 she handed us the following notice. 
 
 COUNTY OF GALWAY, ^ John Loveland complains 
 
 to wit. > of John Thrustout, in the custody 
 
 ) of the Marshal of the Marshalsea 
 
 of our Sovereign Lady the Queen, before the Queen herself, 
 being of a Plea of Tresspass and Ejectment of a Farm, for 
 that WHEREAS John Netterville Gerrard, Esquire, and 
 Marcella Netterville Gerrard, his wife, on the thirteenth day 
 of March in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred 
 and forty-six, at Tuam, in said County, had demised, granted, 
 and to Farm- set unto the said John Loveland, ALL THAT 
 AND THOSE that part of the Lands under the denomination 
 of Crow Village, as now, or at any time heretofore in the 
 possession of Celia Connor and Mary Mahon, otherwise Carr, 
 or either of them, all which said Lands and Premises are 
 situate, lying and being in the Barony of Killyan, and County 
 of Galway aforesaid : TO HAVE AND TO HOLD all and 
 singular the said demised Premises, with the Appurtances, to 
 the said John Loveland, his executors, Administrators and 
 assigns, from the said thirteenth day of March in the year of 
 our Lord aforesaid, for and during the term, time and space 
 of Twenty-one years next ensuing, and from thenceforth fully 
 to be completed and ended. And also for that WHEREAS 
 John Gerrard, Esquire, and Marcella Gerrard, otherwise 
 Netterville, his wife, on the thirteenth day of March in the 
 ^ear of our Lord aforesaid, at Tuam aforesaid, in the said 
 County of Galway, had demised, granted and to Farm-set 
 unto the said John Loveland, the said Premises with the 
 Appurtenances : TO HAVE AND TO HOLD all and singular 
 the said demised Premises, with the Appurtenances, to the 
 said John Loveland, his Executors, Administrators and Assigns, 
 from the said thirteenth day of March in the year of our Lord 
 aforesaid, for and during the term, time and space of twenty- 
 one years next ensuing, and from thenceforth fully to be 
 completed and ended. And also for that WHEREAS The 
 Right Honorable Arthur James, Earl of Fingal, on the thir- 
 teenth day of March in the year of our Lord aforesaid, at 
 Tuam aforesaid, in the said County of Galway, had demised, 
 granted and to Farm-set unto the said John Loveland, the 
 said Premises, with the Appurtenances: to have and 
 
43 
 
 to hold all and singular the said demised Premises, with 
 the appurtenances, to the said John Loveland, his executors, 
 administrators and assigns, from the said thirteenth day of 
 March, in the year of our Lord aforesaid, for and during the 
 term, time and space of Twenty-one years next ensuing, and 
 from thenceforth fully to be completed and ended. And also 
 for that WHEREAS Marcella Gerrard, otherwise Netterville, 
 commonly called Marcella Netterville Gerrard, on the thirteenth 
 day of March in the year of our Lord aforesaid, at Tuam afore- 
 said, in the County of Galway, had demised, granted and to 
 Farm-set unto the said John Loveland, the said Premises, with 
 the Appurtenances: TO HAVE AND TO HOLD all and 
 singular the said demised Premises, with the Appurtenances, 
 to the said John Loveland, his Executors, Administrators and 
 Assigns, from the said thirteenth day of March in the year of 
 ©ur Lord aforesaid, for and during the term, time and space of 
 Twenty-one years next ensuing, and from thenceforth fully to be 
 completed and ended. By virtue of which said several demises, 
 the aforesaid John Loveland, to wit, on the said thirteenth day 
 of March in the year of our Lord aforesaid, entered into the said 
 demised Premises, and was thereof possessed, until he the said 
 John Thrustout afterwards, to wit on the thirteenth day of March 
 in the year of our Lord aforesaid, entered with Force and Arms 
 and soforth, into the said demised Premises, with the Appur- 
 tenances, in and upon the peaceable possession of the said John 
 Loveland, ejected, drove out and removed him the said John 
 Loveland, from the possession of his said Farm (his said Term 
 therein not being then expired) and the said John Loveland 
 being so ejected, drove out and removed from his possession 
 thereof, withheld, and still doth withhold, and then and there 
 brought other injuries upon him, against the peace of our said 
 now Lady the Queen, and to the damage of the said John Love- 
 land of one hundred pounds sterling, and thereupon the said 
 John Loveland brings his suit and soforth. 
 
 As of Hilary Term, in the ninth Year of the Reign of her 
 Majesty Queen Victoria, and soforth, and in the Year of our 
 Lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-six. 
 
 Pledges to prosecute, John Galway, Attorney, 11, Summer- 
 hill, Dublin, John Doe and Richard Roe, John G. Holmes. 
 
 SlRt 
 
 You may understand by the above Declaration that I am 
 sued as casual Ejector in her Majesty’s Court of Queen’s Bench 
 in Ireland, as of last Hilary Term, for the Lands and Tene- 
 ments above mentioned, whereunto I have no claim : these are 
 therefore to desire you to retain an Attorney of the same Court 
 to appear for you next Easter term, and defend your title to 
 the Premises, (if any you have), otherwise I will suffer Judg- 
 ment to pass against me by default, and then you will be turned 
 out of possession. 
 
 I am your Friend, John Thrustout. 
 
44 
 
 To the tenant in possession, and all others concerned. 
 
 J ohn Galway, Attorney for the Plaintiff and his Lessors, 
 Number Eleven, Summer-hill, Dublin. 
 
 We saw several of the inhabitants of this village, all of whom 
 were similarly circumstanced. They were in the greatest con- 
 sternation, and as they themselves said, knew not what to do. 
 
 I then waited on Dr. French, the Medical Superintendent 
 of the Dispensary, who stated he wished to mention a fact in 
 connexion with the eviction. He said about ten or twelve days 
 before that day (Thursday), a person named John Clarke, 
 who was turned out of the village, came to Ballygar ; he was 
 sick with with fever at the time, and it was communicated to 
 a child who is now lying ill of the same malady ; the man, 
 after getting a little better, went to the house of his sister 
 where two of the inhabitants caught the fever and are now 
 lying ill, and he (Dr. French) very much feared it would 
 spread with rapidity through the country, if means were not 
 taken to arrest its progress. The fever (added the Doctor), 
 was not so contagious for the last three years as at present, and 
 he feared the consequences very much. 
 
 Of course Doctor, you don’t know how the fever originated ? 
 Dr. French — oh, yes, it was in the village at the time the 
 people were evicted. 
 
 I asked this gentleman if he thought that fact were known 
 to the lady and her husband, at the time the eviction took 
 place? He could not tell, but it was well known that fever 
 was in the village at the time. 
 
 I told Dr. French I would take a note of our conversation, 
 and he said sir, most willingly. Mrs. Gerrard is an acquain- 
 tance of mine, but I would not on that account conceal any 
 thing coming within my knowledge in reference to this case. 
 
 The following, I dare say will be read with some interest. 
 I honour the young English officer for his manly spirit and 
 for the sympathy he exhibited, but the fact speaks more than 
 any praise I could bestow on it. Speaking of the scene that 
 took place on the 13th, an officer stationed with a detachment 
 of military at Ballygar, who with his company were obliged 
 to attend on the Sheriff at the eviction, said : “it was horrible 
 to see the poor devils surely — they offered us the money, but 
 we could not take it. When the people had collected in the 
 
 fields behind the houses, did you mind the d d rascals how 
 
 ordered us to charge if the (the people) did not go off, but no, 
 
45 
 
 we spurned the d d rascals — we charge the people ! not we.” 
 
 This gentleman also gave one of the poor widows who suffered 
 half-a-crown to get her dinner. You may rely on these facts. 
 
 Mr. (the lady’s relative) said to me, if the Times Com- 
 
 missioner had come down here, he might have had something 
 to do instead of going to Darrynane ; for if the people were 
 badly off there, they were not hunted out of their houses. I 
 think, sir, he continued, that some good ought to come of this 
 case, when laid before the public, by your means. It is a hor- 
 rible thing to see a country thus laid waste of inhabitants, and 
 to turn the land which was destined for the support of the 
 people into bullock walks ; you have seen enough yourself of 
 that ; I trust the legislature will now see the necessity of adop- 
 ting some measure to secure the unfortunate tenantry, for it is 
 almost beyond human nature to bear up against acts of this 
 description ; we hear a great deal about assassinations, &c., 
 but, in order to cure the evil, the disease should be ascertained. 
 Is it any wonder that we hear of murders ? We have enough 
 of them — but we seldom hear of wholesale manslaughter such as 
 the present, perpetrated by the peasantry. However, I trust 
 that, through your publicity of this case — and the country 
 should feel grateful to the establishment to which you belong, 
 for having sent you here — that something will be done by Par- 
 liament to remedy such evils. 
 
 The above sentiments do honour to the head and heart of the 
 speaker. 
 
 I am coming now to a close, so far as the facts of this most 
 melancholy case, but I shall occupy another letter summing up 
 all, and giving a general review and outline of the whole mat- 
 ter. I don’t think this would be an appropriate place to do so, 
 as, up to the present moment, I have confined myself solely to 
 the facts and conversations ; still I may be able to give some 
 interesting information and particulars that did not come under 
 any particular class or head already enumerated in my former 
 letters . 
 
 Perhaps it is unnecessary for me to say that, during this to 
 me painful enquiry, I have had one, and only one, object in 
 view — the elucidation of the truth. I was not prejudiced one 
 way or the other, and I speak sincerely when I say that I have 
 “ nothing extenuated, nor set down aught in malice.” I have 
 given my authors — they would not deceive me — I have endea- 
 voured to describe what I beheld, and my eyes could not de- 
 
46 
 
 ceive. It is only just to say, that I did not meet any of the 
 remaining Gerrard tenantry who actually were forbidden to al- 
 low the people into their houses, or to afford them assistance ; 
 you have the evidence on this point at both sides — let the pub- 
 lic decide. I should be wanting in gratitude were I to omit 
 making honourable mention of the names of the gentlemen 
 already before you, whose assistance was most invaluable 
 to me. I shall always entertain the highest respect for 
 the noble and generous-hearted people of this much reviled 
 and persecuted country. 
 
 I cannot close without stating that the clergy of the neigh- 
 bourhood, Mr. Donovan, and other gentlemen are entitled to 
 great praise, for I have it on the authority of an officer, that 
 their exertions perhaps prevented bloodshed. The people 
 remained most tranquil, and have since their eviction. The 
 following beautiful lines of our own immortal poet, Goldsmith, 
 are realized here — one would almost think he looked on the 
 wreck of Ballinlass — 
 
 “ Princes and lords may flourish or may fade, 
 
 A breath can make them as a breath has made ; 
 
 But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride, 
 
 When once destroyed can never be supplied.” 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 Roscommon, Tuesday. 
 
 In this, my concluding letter, on the'subject of the unfortu- 
 nate tenantry of Mrs. Gerrard, I have little to add to my 
 former letters, so far as facts are concerned : but I cannot close 
 this matter without taking a brief review of the case, therefore 
 I have most studiously abstained from offering one word of 
 comment — it was not my province to do so. I did not indulge 
 in any remark calculated to hurt the feelings of any person or 
 party, nor did I write one syllable of what I heard, without 
 evidence of the clearest and most incontrovertible character, 
 to sustain what I have advanced. I was deputed by you to 
 execute a special commission, and I trust I have performed 
 that duty, if not with ability, at least with truthful impartiality. 
 I have not given credence to anything, unless what appeared 
 to me the most convincing, and capable of being sustained by 
 
47 
 
 evidence. In this respect I can safely say, that no impulse 
 of feeling, no matter how strongly I may have felt on certain 
 points, has caused me to deviate either to the right or left. I feel 
 this explanation the more incumbent on me, as no doubt what 
 I have written will be noticed in other places besides this 
 journal, to which I have the high honour and privilege of 
 being attached. Had I set down all I heard, I could have 
 filled a volume with, perhaps, idle, but readable stories. 
 That was not my province, nor was it your intention ; and, 
 acting up to this principle, I have endeavoured to steer my 
 course through the shoals of difficulties by which I was sur- 
 rounded. Let me also observe, that you have the thanks of 
 every person here for being the first journal to call public 
 attention — at least so far as details are concerned — to the 
 “clearance” system in this county. It is but right to say 
 that the majority of landlords in this part of the country 
 deprecate, in strong terms, the conduct of persons who indulge 
 in this wholesale extermination of their tenantry without cause 
 or complaint, and many of them — I have it on the most un- 
 questionable authority — have expressed their astonishment 
 how the system has so long prevailed here without incurring, 
 at least, exposure through the newspapers. After all, the 
 publication of facts, through the medium of the press, is a 
 great corrector of abuses, particularly in instances of the 
 present description. Perhaps the following may serve to cor- 
 roborate this axiom. A gentleman, whose name and residence 
 I have in my note-book, had some short time since evicted 
 certain tenants, under nearly similar circumstances with those 
 on the Gerrard estate. Having heard that a person was in the 
 county taking notes for your journal, he sent for the people 
 who were dispossessed, and asked them were they ready to 
 pay their rents ? the answer was in the affirmative. The ques„ 
 tion had never been asked them before. He then told the 
 people that they might return to their places, which it is almost 
 needless to add, they did with pleasure and thankfulness. The 
 reason for this, and you may depend on the accuracy of my 
 statement, was, as the gentleman himself expressed it, that 
 it was likely the circumstance would come under my notice, 
 (so it did) and that he would not for thousands be classed 
 among exterminating landlords. Whether his intentions were 
 good or otherwise — whether he was afraid of publicity or 
 not, it matters little ; he has acted fairly, and no matter under 
 
48 
 
 what influence a person acts when he performs a good action, 
 the result to the party receiving the benefit is the same ; 
 although the donor’s intention be ever so foreign to the imme- 
 diate action which he has performed. These remarks, however 
 crudely thrown together, have forced themselves on my mind, 
 and no matter how inadequate I may be to the task of true 
 delineation, I flatter myself that I cannot be charged with 
 0 mendacious assertion. There is no use in my dwelling on this 
 
 ; subject, as I shall have occasion hereafter to be more elaborate, 
 
 intending as I do to give you a brief history of Molly 
 Maguireism — its origin and progress in Roscommon and Galway, 
 and I have no doubt that I shall be able to show that the people 
 have been forced into this by the persecution of the landlords. 
 But of this anon. 
 
 We asked some of the poor people what was the matter with 
 the herds ? and they replied Mr. Holmes was coming post from 
 ** Galway, and they were going to meet that gentleman, as he 
 
 would be down in a short time. I was much pleased at this piece 
 of information, as I imagined an opportunity would be afforded 
 me of having a conversation with Mr. Holmes, which I very 
 much desired. We loitered about the place for some time, but 
 no carriage appeared. We went on and called our driver. He 
 told us that great preparations were being made for the recep- 
 tion of Mr. Holmes (not at the house where he had been, but at 
 another) and that a servant girl had been to the house to pro- 
 cure “ white bread” for him, as there was no place else in the 
 neighbourhood that such an article could be procured — (there 
 were plenty of rotten potatoes about the place). We still 
 waited a considerable time, but Mr. Holmes did not arrive, and 
 we departed, having a long road before us and the day, waxing 
 late ; we passed several houses on the road side, built by Mrs. 
 Gerrard for her herdsmen ; they are neat, slated houses, and 
 exteriorly presented a very comfortable appearance ; I told the 
 man to stop at one, and we all went in. Of course I expected 
 to find the interior correspond with the outside, but I was never 
 more disappointed ; it was lofted, no doubt, but such squalid 
 misery I have never before witnessed in the cabin of the poorest 
 peasant, and I have seen hundreds of thousands of such ; there 
 were two women (one very old) and three children in the house ; 
 there were a few turf embers on the hearth, and the youngest 
 child in the place was huddled up in the chimney corner, eating 
 some potatoes out of the ashes ; the woman of the house was 
 
49 
 
 knitting, and, on our entrance, she arose and wiped one of the 
 chairs with her apron, and invited me in Irish to take an air 
 of the fire ; there were only two chairs, a dresser, two boxes, 
 and two small stools in the place ; there was a room off the 
 kitchen, but I did not see what it contained : there was a heap 
 of half-decomposed straw in the corner, covered with an old 
 cloth, and 'resembling a bed ; I asked what it was, and the 
 woman said the pig lay there. When we left, I remarked that 
 it was a very wretched house inside, compared to the outside : ^ 
 it’s more for ornament than use, replied one of my companions, 
 they are all just the same — got up to make a show — and the 
 poor creatures who live in them are glad to get any place for 
 shelter. The interior of these herds’ houses, continued my 
 friend, is far worse than was those of the “ Gerrardised ” 
 village. We met three Roman Catholic clergymen at the 
 bridge of Newtown-Gerrard (whilom Newbridge) ; one of these 
 gentlemen I had the honour of a previous introduction to, and 
 he presented me, as did also Mr. Tully, to the other two 1 ' 
 
 was most cordially received, and invited to their houses, but I 
 could not accept of their kindness. One of them informed me 
 that Dr. French, a medical gentleman who resides at Ballygar, 
 had been enquiring for, and wished to see me, as he had some- 
 thing to mention in connection with the late eviction. I 
 subsequently had the pleasure of visiting the Doctor, at his 
 house. Up to this time I have confined myself strictly to facts 
 connected with the recent affair, but I cannot help mentioning 
 incidentally here what occurred at Mount-Gerrard in 1841. 
 This had been at one period a rising village ; a person named 
 Connor, a man worth some two thousand pounds, kept a shop 
 here, but having displeased Mrs. Gerrard, she gave him notice 
 to quit ; he offered her any amount of money not to dispossess 
 him, but it was refused, and on an appointed day, the sheriff and 
 bailiffs came and demanded possession. Connor’s father lay ill 
 of fever in the house ; he was carried out and laid on a bed on 
 the road, and died in three days after. This I have on the au- 
 thority of the three respectable gentlemen whom I met here, 
 and a man named Nowlan, who saw old Connor taken out and 
 laid on the road. Nowlan himself lived a few perches from the 
 place, and showed me the ruins of a house that had the ap- 
 pearance of being at one period very comfortable. There was 
 my house, said he, looking on it with a sigh. I asked him, in 
 presence of the clergymen, what he was evicted for, and he 
 
50 
 
 said he knew not the reason no more than I did. Did you owe 
 rent ? Not a penny ; I was always well able to pay. How 
 many acres had you ? Twenty- two. Well, how have you 
 lived since ? I had saved a trifle by industry, and by that, 
 and my day’s work, I have supported my family ever since, 
 but my means are almost gone now. The man departed from 
 us after this conversation, and we turned to proceed upon our 
 way. The people followed us to the road, and gave us their 
 blessing, as we bid a final and a melancholy farewell to the 
 “ Gerrardised ” village of Ballinlass. 
 
 I now conclude this series of papers. I have endeavoured 
 to afford a perfect transcript of facts as they impressed them- 
 selves upon me, and of incidents as they were presented to my 
 observation. I trust I have not, in this purpose, entirely 
 failed; but, on the contrary, that I shall have succeeded in 
 transferring to the public mind some portion of the feelings 
 which imbue my own. Should I attain this happy consumma- 
 tion of my wishes, the tenant-occupiers of the soil of Ireland 
 shall not long be subject to the wasting evils of extermination. 
 
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