FIRST WAVE: Patrick's Temper


FIRST WAVE: Emigrant Ships to Port Phillip 1839-1845

Chapter Nine:  PATRICK'S TEMPER

A major charge, perhaps the major charge, raised against Irish emigrants was their 'national' reputation for violence. The Irish people, it was alleged, were 'by nature' volatile and violent. Their reputation for violence was reinforced in the colonial environment by frequent newspaper reports of public disorder and political murders in Ireland during the last decades before the Famine.

At the outset of this chapter, it is important to separate the anti-social violence then prevalent in Ireland into two categories. The first type was practised on a large scale, part 'recreation' and part 'settling the score'. This will be discussed under the heading "Riots and Affrays". The second was practised on a smaller scale and was more lethal and calculated. This will be examined later in the chapter under the heading "Targeted Assassinations".

Both forms of violence resulted in personal injury and death, but the degree of intentional malice involved in each was quite different. It was unfortunate that the delayed, and abbreviated, press reports from Britain did not make this distinction. The details of these incidents were lost in the sensational depiction of general horror and lawlessness.

The conclusion reached in Australia was that not only were the Irish lawless and uncontrollable, which was bad enough, but that they were also deliberate and vicious killers, which was much worse.

Riots and Affrays

To the leading 'free' colonists, the predominantly English and Scottish class of investor-capitalists, Irish emigrants were much like the Irish convicts who had preceded them. It was assumed that Irish emigrants were similarly quick-tempered -- quick to take offence and quick to raise their fists -- and would be equally difficult to manage as employees on distant stations.

All Irish were predisposed to violence according to this assessment. So ingrained was this national 'reflex' supposed to be, that many squatters believed that even allowing the Irish to congregate in any numbers would inevitably result in an outburst of 'tribal aggression'. The theory seems to have been that once a 'critical-mass' of Irishmen (or Irish women) arose in one location, it would 'spontaneously combust' into mob violence.

The following 'cautionary tale' is reproduced from a report of an Executive Council of New South Wales Meeting with Governor Sir George Gipps in 1842. It was related by prominent squatter James Macarthur and was no doubt intended as a sincere contribution to this august gathering of the Colony's elite.

Macarthur began by assuring the Council that he was not anti-Irish. "God forbid that any such feeling should exist". But as a pastoralist "he had the management of many Irish", and from his experience "he could give a practical instance of the disadvantages likely to arise from the great preponderance of the Irish".
At Camden, some years ago, they had upwards of one hundred men; at first they endeavoured to keep a pretty equal number of English, and Irish, and Scotch, but at length the Irish behaved so well, that they were allowed to become the preponderating number. A dispute arose between the two worst of the men, -- an Englishman and an Irishman, -- the Englishman was the better boxer of the two, and gave the other a drubbing; the Irish looked upon this as a reflection of their national character and taking up their shillelahs, sallied forth and attacked everyone they came across. The next day, after their hot blood had somewhat subsided, he went amongst them; it would have been somewhat dangerous to do it while their blood was up; and he remonstrated with them; they said they knew they had done wrong, but it was constitutional with them, that they could not help it, and that even if he had come amongst them, they should probably have knocked him down also. This might have been the subject of serious complaint before the Magisterial power...but it was deemed more prudent to let the matter drop, and by removing the cause, that was by reducing the number of Irishmen to a par with that of the others, to prevent the recurrence of such a disturbance, and when this was done all went on well, and they worked together harmoniously as before.(1)
Macarthur's story concerned a convict work-force on Camden. However the squatter clearly meant to apply the same 'lesson' to the more recently arrived bounty emigrants from Ireland. In Macarthur's mind, all Irish whether convict or 'free', had the same innate tendency towards unrestrained rioting and assault. In their own words, "it was constitutional with them...they could not help it".

Macarthur's 'lesson' was extremely condescending. Nevertheless, there is extensive evidence that, historically and culturally, Ireland was a violent place. For instance, the tradition of "faction fighting" persisted in pre-Famine Ireland despite the strong disapproval of the Catholic clergy. Faction fights were all out brawls, organised in advance between rival villages or family clans.

At the conclusion of regional market fairs, or Celtic-Catholic rituals like the annual 'pattern-day' at certain sacred sites, crowds would indulge in whisky drinking at the publicans' tents. Insults would be exchanged between the factions and then the fight would begin. It sometimes involved hundreds of combatants throwing half-brick "stones" and wielding lead-weighted "hurling sticks". And it ended only when the rate of casualties forced the defeated side from the field.

Faction fights were a customary form of violence, both a release of communal tensions and a revival of the old hatreds that drove them. Priests and bishops condemned them and strove to remove the whisky sellers' "booths" from religious events such as funeral "wakes", mass-stations, weddings and baptisms.

Ecclesiastic efforts to eradicate the stimulus of drunkenness from religious events had some success in the first half of the nineteenth century. However, an increased "reverence" and respect for 'holy places' did not restrain activity at more commercial venues, where much of the lawlessness and limb-breaking continued as before.

On Monday 24 June 1834, insults were uttered at the Milltown fair in County Kerry. The Colheens, who inhabited one side of the River Cashen, and the Lawlors and Mulvihills who occupied the other, had longstanding emnities. On the following Wednesday at the Balleagh races, after the last race had been run and the prize of a saddle awarded to the winner, the rival clans clashed.

More than one thousand fought, "furiously engaged in mortal strife and no quarter given on either side...the Colheens were at length defeated...the fugitives driven into the water [where] their brains were beaten out". The official death toll was 16. (The authorities arrested 18). All achieved with "sticks" and "stones". Not a shot was fired. A detachment of armed British soldiers from the 69th Regiment were reduced to onlookers, impotent observers of "a savage atrocity".(2)

These sorts of scenes went beyond tolerance of boisterous spirits and 'boys will be boys'. They 'endorsed' a casual attitude to violence, an acceptance of boorish and brutal behaviour, and submission to bullies. Faction fights 'sanctioned' the dominance of the group, led by the most violent, and this is likely to have had a coercive, or suppressing, effect on Irish society.

The Ballyreagh massacre was a late and possibly extreme example of Irish faction fighting. Still, it does prompt the question: Did this background of social violence transfer to the Port Phillip District with the first wave of bounty emigration? In other words, did these Irish emigrants bring a culture of violence with them? One method of inquiry towards answering this question is to investigate records of criminality from the early settlement period.

Emigrant Crime

Paul Mullaly's Crime in the Port Phillip District 1835-1851 is a well researched collection of all serious crime that came before Melbourne sittings of the Court of Petty Sessions and the Supreme Court. It is a near-exhaustive record of those offences that came before a judge and jury in the period before Separation and the Gold Rush.(3)

The following handful of reports extracted from Mullaly's Crime make up a sort of Irish emigrants' case list. This short list is restricted to crimes against the person (murder, assault, etc.) and does not include offences involving property (robbery, fraud, etc.). It is limited to those trials in which the parties have been able to be identified, with a strong degree of certainty, as former bounty emigrants from Ireland. It does not include minor charges, arrests, or short periods of confinement, where the matter was heard by individual magistrates or justices of the peace.

It begins with two personal and very human tragedies. The first of these is "Crown v. Carrig". In the early morning of 4 July 1844, Ann Carrig ("or Carrick") was discovered walking along the Yarra River "with blood about her shoes and stockings". Because she seemed to be "in a weak condition", a Dr Bryant was called to examine her. He diagnosed that Ann had been "very shortly delivered of a child". Ann denied this. At about the same time the body of a child was discovered, "gnawned by dogs".

On 3 June 1841, Ann Carrick, a 19 year old "single female" from County Clare, had arrived in Port Phillip as a bounty emigrant on the Duchess of Northumberland. She was a Roman Catholic, "reads only", and her occupation was "house servant".

At her trial before Justice Jeffcott on 19 August 1844, Ann Carrig's admission to another doctor that she had given birth to a stillborn baby and buried the body was heard. The jury found her not guilty of murder, but guilty of the offence of "concealing a birth". The judge sentenced Ann to nine months imprisonment with hard labour for each alternate month.(4)

The second of these tragedies is "Crown v. Harren". In the first half of 1847 Henry Harren ("or Warren") returned to Melbourne "from the bush" and resumed living with his wife Sarah in a dwelling off Lonsdale Street. Over the next few days he assaulted her several times. One of these assaults was witnessed by Mary Walton. On the afternoon of 9 July, Walton later testified, Harren went to where his wife was standing at the wash tub and "gave her a severe blow on the side of her head with his fist and also kicked her".

On 13 December 1840, Sarah Warren, a 28 year old "house servant" and literate Catholic from Dublin, had arrived in Port Phillip as a bounty emigrant on the notorious ship Orient. Sarah was one of the 20 "unmarried women" on that vessel found to have "embarked unprotected" and one of the 9 who were also found to have "behaved infamously while on board".

Susan had Henry arrested and swore that she had not given her husband any provocation before the assaults. At his trial before the Supreme Court on 29 July 1847, Henry Harren was discharged after stating "he would be more affectionate to his wife in the future".(5)

The Irish case list continues with two of what Mullaly calls "Sectarian Offences" (although they could also be classified under "Excessive Consumption of Alcohol"). The first of these is "Crown v. Connell". On 15 April 1844 Jeremiah Connell, a 22 year old Roman Catholic "labourer" from County Cork, arrived in Port Phillip as a bounty emigrant on the Sea Queen. By 1846 he was employed by the Yuilles family on their station near Mount Buninyong.

On the afternoon of 16 November 1846, Jeremiah Connell went drinking at John Veitche's Boninyong Inn with fellow employee Robert Cameron. During the afternoon the publican observed that Jeremiah became "riotous and quarrelsome". Connell was arguing "about religion and King William" with another man, whom he seemed to think was "an Orangeman". At one stage Connell was overheard saying he "would never be satisfied till he had the blood of an Orangeman on his souls [sic]".

That evening outside the inn, when he was supposedly heading back to the station, Connell hit his companion Cameron, knocking him down. A man called Edward Martin, who was going into the inn at the time of the fight, remarked that "if he was a papist he made a very cowardly one to strike a man while he was on the ground". Connell was then seen going back inside "with his hands behind his back" and, "with the poker he had concealed, struck Edward Martin two blows on the head and Martin fell insensible". Martin died the following morning from his wounds. Trooper William Hines subsequently arrested Connell and took custody of the offending iron bar. 

At his trial before Justice a'Beckett in Melbourne on 15 December 1846, Connell had no memory of the incident and pleaded "intoxication and excitement". He was convicted of murder by the court and sentenced to death. Jeremiah Connell was executed on 27 January 1847 and "the body was handed over to Mr Therry the Catholic clergyman for internment".(6)

The year 1846 was a time of heightened sectarian tensions in the Port Phillip District. A celebratory dinner to commemorate the Battle of the Boyne (1 July 1690) was advertised to be held at Thomas Gordon's Pastoral Hotel on the corner of Queen and Little Bourke Streets. Banners supporting the Orange cause were strung from the upper storey windows. "An angry crowd gathered in the vicinity". Shots were fired from inside the hotel. One bullet grazed Father Geoghegan as he attempted to disperse the protesters. Others wounded David Hurley and Thomas O'Brien.

Arrests were made, of William Hinds for "shooting with intent to murder", and Patrick Buckle, John James, and George Hunter for "being armed and riotous". Later, these charges were quietly dropped. The authorities were reluctant to provide any more occasions for a noisy crowd to gather. Protestant-Catholic rivalries were a political incendiary, with any action taken by the government deemed likely to be misinterpreted by one side or the other. Inaction was the wiser course.

The policy of doing as little as possible to avoid inflaming the situation further had already been partially adopted in an earlier case from 1846, "Crown V. Gorman". In March a three day race meeting had been held at Flemington. After the final race was run, "Mr Dewing, the rider of [the winning horse] Wild Harry...was bludgeoned by a ruffian and for a few moments it was thought he was killed". Patrick Main, rider of the second place-getter, Jane, said "he saw David Gorman strike Dewing on the head with a stick until Dewing fell from his horse. Others then attacked Dewing".

At Gorman's trial a jury found him guilty of assault but made a strong recommendation for mercy. (A surgeon Dr David Thomas testified that there were "many contusions" on Dewing's head and he thought the concussing wound was "caused by the kick of a horse"). On 17 June 1846 Justice a'Beckett sentenced Gorman to 12 months imprisonment.

David Gorman, an 18 year old Catholic from County Limerick, arrived in Port Phillip as a bounty emigrant on the William Metcalfe on 24 November 1839. Travelling on the same bounty emigrant ship were his parents 39 year old Patrick and 35 year old Mary Gorman, along with David's younger brothers and sisters.

In July 1846 David's father Patrick sent a petition to Superintendent La Trobe seeking mitigation of the 12 month sentence. The petition was referred back to a'Beckett, who refused to "express any opinion about this particular case because of its connection with Irish problems which he thought he should avoid creating any impression of support for any faction [sic]". Similarly, the Governor in Sydney declined "to interfere".(7)

Because of its "connection with Irish problems", the colonial administration did not want to be seen to be acting extra-judiciously. The Gormans were Roman Catholics and the 'gentleman-rider' Henry Dewing was linked to the Orange-Protestant cause. The matter was therefore considered 'sensitive'. Neither La Trobe nor Gipps wanted to act lest their decision be misinterpreted as religious bias. David Gorman served his full term.

By the end of the 1840s, however, tempers appear to have cooled on the sectarian front. Periodic outbreaks of street brawling in Melbourne were no longer solely motivated by religious antagonism. On Boxing Day 26 December 1850, two "riotous affrays" took place in Melbourne. Both occurred after local sporting events, both were outside local hotels, and both included large numbers of local inhabitants. The second of these, around Michael Sheedy's Richmond Hotel, is the one most reliably linked to the 'Irish case list' of former bounty emigrants.

Sergeant Walter Murphy and three constables attended the fight. Out of a crowd of "about 60", 20 were actively fighting and there were "others running away". After sending to Melbourne for reinforcements, the sergeant returned to find people still congregating around "Sheedy's public house...some of whom had marks of blood as if fighting". In particular he "saw 7 men standing close together", who he later identified as James Joseph Murphy, Michael Murphy, Richard Micklan Murphy, Alexander Murphy, John Scully, James Ready, and James Hasely.(8)

The background of five of these assailants reveals some unexpected cross-cultural  links. On 14 February 1842 the fever ship Manlius arrived in Port Phillip from Glasgow. The vessel landed 245 live emigrants but 61 had died during the passage or later in quarantine. Among those who died were Bartley and Margaret Murphy, parents of Richard aged 15, James aged 13, Sandy (diminutive of Alexander) aged 12, Bartley (Michael?) aged 5, and their three young sisters, Anne, Mary, and Margaret. This now orphaned family were Protestants from Dunbartonshire in Scotland.

A few weeks earlier, on 16 December 1841, 26 year old John Scully and his wife Margaret (nee Sheedy), with their surviving infant daughter Catherine, had arrived on another notorious fever ship. The Ward Chipman from Bristol landed 363 live emigrants but another 23 had died on board. The Scullys, and the Sheedys, were Catholics from County Limerick in Ireland.

Despite their religious differences, the Murphys and Scully stood side by side in the Boxing Day melee of 1850. As  allies, they threw stones, fought with their fists, and wielded palings torn from fences. Together they earned the Melbourne Argus title as the "ringleaders of an affray". Despite different religious and national origins, (but perhaps because of similar emigration experiences), these 'neighbours' defended 'their pub', 'their team', or simply 'their pride', against outsiders. It is interesting that at their trial, a 'jury of their peers' agreed that all parties to the brawl "were equally blameable", and the accused were consequently acquitted.(9)

These few examples of crimes against the person from a short Irish-emigrant case list are, of course, a tiny fraction of the overall numbers of the first wave to Port Phillip. Nevertheless, they do suggest a tentative progression of colonial experience for the new arrivals. Firstly, there are the pathetic human tragedies born of poverty and misjudgment (R v. Carrig, R V. Harren). Then in the middle of the decade, a period of sectarian animosity appears (R v. Connell, R v. Gorman). Finally, some evidence arises of a dilution of religious loyalties (R v. Murphy, Scully et al). Rather than a gradual 'hardening' of attitudes in a defensive circle of 'us' and 'them', there may be emerging signs that religious rigidities were not the only basis on which the Irish emigrants defined themselves.

A detailed analysis of lower court records may in fact confirm the popular view that the Irish were more raucous and rowdy than English or Scottish emigrants under the bounty scheme. At the level of magistrates' hearings the 'victimless' minor offences of public drunkenness and street brawling could well have attracted more than their share of emigrants from Ireland. From the perspective of the local 'benches' in Geelong or Portland it might have seemed that Celtic names were in the majority among a familiar litany of repeat offenders.

However the abbreviated Irish case list from the higher courts, where serious crime was tried, indicates that this (perceived) unruliness did not translate into the vicious and vengeful patterns of murder and destruction that disfigured Ireland. Macarthur's half-jest, that the Irish "could not help themselves", masked a much deeper concern about Irish violence. It was a fear of being slaughtered in their beds, of night-time arsonists destroying their property, of political terror.

At an earlier meeting of the Executive Council in October 1840, Macarthur had quietly stated what was probably at the back of every squatter's mind. He said then that, "he did not think it would be prudent to have a country composed of Protestant landlords and masters, and Roman Catholic tenants and servants".(10)

In other words, Macarthur (and his ilk) wanted to avoid the reproduction of the calamitously failed demographic structure of Ireland into the 'new' colonial society. He feared most of all that the same dedicated anti-landlord violence that was currently terrorising Anglo-Irish elites would be introduced into the Colony of New South Wales.

The Terries

The Terry Alt movement of secret agrarian societies began in County Clare in the early 1830s. It was an underground rebellion that would have been in the recent living memory of many of the first wave of Irish bounty emigrants who arrived in Port POhillip between 1839 and 1845. And it proved a popular form of protest, soon spreading to southern Galway, most parts of Limerick, and areas of Tipperary and Kilkenny.

It exploded into notoriety in January 1831, with the murder of William Blood in his Corofin home by six armed men. Blood was a land agent for Lord Stradbroke and known for his previous role in estate evictions, so there was no mistaking the political point of his execution.

The Terries had an Irish sense of humour. According to 'legend', a retired veteran with the name of Terry Alt lived near Corofin, where he regularly attended the village church -- "a most harmless and inoffensive man". One Sunday morning another man was attacked and severely beaten. The victim described on of his attackers as wearing a straw hat. At that moment Terry Alt appeared, walking on his way to church. Terry was wearing a straw hat. A local joked that "Terry did it!" This was thought so funny that, whenever a violent attack or some other outrage was instigated by the secret societies in southwestern Ireland, the same mocking claim was made.(11)

The most publicised exploits of the Terries were their mass protests in broad daylight. In Clare there were 591 cases of crowds, in their hundreds and accompanied by the music of tin whistles and drums, which converged on pasture fields and began digging up the sods. This ruined the land for grazing and forced farmers to use the ground for tillage (which required the employment of labourers) and 'conacre' (which supplied potato plots for labourers). Another favourite was the dismantling of stone-walls and fences around pasture, and the driving off of cattle to be impounded or 'lost'. 132 of these cases were reported.

There was, however, a darker side to the Terries' 'mischief'. In Irish Peasants:Violence and political unrest 1780-1914, James Donnelly analyses the official crime statistics for 1831 in County Clare. Donnelly identifies the following offences committed by the Terries. There were, in that year alone: 19 murders; 201 beatings or "assaults"; 397 cases of "assaulting habitations", a crime found only on Ireland's statute books, when gangs would launch attacks on farm houses at night and terrorise the inhabitants; 288 cases of "robbery of arms" and 100 of "demanding arms" (a major focus of the Terries was the seizing of guns); 303 cases of "tendering oaths", where victims were forced to their knees to make promises to meet certain demands; and 227 cases of robbery and burglary, most of which were really the offence of "demanding monies" in order to buy arms, fee lawyers, and bribe witnesses.(12)

Until the sittings of Special Commissioners in Ennis and Limerick later in 1831, those who had absolute control over the use of land were at the mercy of those who normally had none. This dramatic reversal of roles panicked the leading citizens of Britain (and in the colonies). Extra detachments of soldiers and police were rushed to the province of Munster to deal with the 'crisis'.

The Special Commissioners convicted 119 Terries. 21 were condemned to death, 58 were sentenced to transportation, and 40 were imprisoned with hard labour for periods of three to twelve months. Of the 57 prisoners charged with "assaulting habitation", 11 were found guilty of felonious assault and hung, and the remaining 46 were transported to the penal colonies of New South Wales and Van Diemen's Land.

The movement went deeper underground, relying on intimidation and communal loyalties to ensure silent witness. The recorded number of offences plunged.(13)

Targeted Assassinations

A review of Mullaly's Crime in the Port Phillip District 1835-51 indicates that no similar crimes of terror were carried out by Irish emigrants, or anyone else, in the period of early settlement. Patterns of rural revenge and coercion did not translate from Ireland to Port Phillip.

An explanation of why the feared Irish uprising failed to eventuate in the colonies lies in the highly specific nature of the secret society killings in Ireland. In his article "Whiteboys and Ribbonmen: Early Agrarian Secret Societies", Pat Feeley notes "the lack of indiscriminate violence" involved:

"Violence was employed on a calculated, specific basis, in contrast to the gratuitous bloodletting of the faction fights and the sectarian riots. Victims were carefully selected...Attacks were always clearly linked to a specific issue -- a particular eviction, a rise in rents, a protest against labourers being hired from another county. There was rarely much difficulty in ascribing a motive; the perpetrators took pains to publicise the reason for the violence as a warning and a lesson to others."(14)
This argument is supported by M.R. Beame's article "Rural Conflict in Pre-Famine Ireland: Peasant Assassinations in Tipperary 1837-47". Beame's definition of the Irish phenomenon is concise: "Assassination in this context is defined as the calculated, planned killing of a specific person for identifiable motives". The 27 Whiteboy murders in Tipperary between 1837 and 1847 had "identifiable motives" that are distinctive for their clear linkage to local disputes over land.(15)

Ten of the victims in Beame's survey were landlords, nine of them were 'factors' or representatives of landlords, and eight were classified as 'farmers'. Sectarian issues were not decisive in landlord selection. Five of the landlords killed were Catholic. Neither was class hatred of a spendthrift aristocracy who inherited their wealth a decisive issue. Seven of the landlords had commercial backgrounds, coming to landlord status relatively recently.

What connected these murders was the landlord's attitude towards economic 'Improvement'. As 'Improvers', some landlords had sought to increase the profitability of their land by adopting 'modern' farming practices. This invariably meant grazing rather than cultivation, herds of cattle instead of communities of farm labourers. Eight of the landlord deaths were directly related to actual eviction proceedings against existing smallholders and cottier-tenants.

The second group of victims comprised three process-servers, two stewards, one wood-ranger, a herdsman, and two day labourers. They were chosen precisely because they were carrying out the 'Improving' policies of their master -- "often in determined and loyal fashion" -- or stood to personally gain from those policies.

In the third group, classed as 'farmers', five of the eight had taken up situations where the previous tenant or tenants had been evicted. The other three had taken an action, such as marrying against family wishes, which disrupted the traditional occupancy-expectation of someone else. Taking all three categories of victim into account, it was the occupation of leased land, or more accurately, the loss of occupancy through eviction, that led to assassination by the Tipperary Whiteboys.

A sensible footnote to bring this chapter to a close is the conclusion that conditions were different in the Port Phillip District. By comparison with rural Ireland, work was more available and better paid, food was in ample supply, and families did not face starvation from a landlord or his agent acting arbitrarily to change the way things had always been done in the past.

Critically, contractual employer-employee relations in the colonies did not bear the same weight of mutual obligation and customary expectation that was the case in Irish society. Emotionally laden elements, like personal 'betrayal' or 'breach of trust', could accumulate into longstanding resentments and family feuds in a traditional economy, but the preconditions for their existence were largely absent in Australia. 

In the colonial setting, labour was exchanged for wages. This was a simple money-transaction. No obsequious cap-tucking or bowing was required. Each party knew exactly where they were in the weekly or yearly agreement, and they fully expected its renegotiation at the end of the nominated term.


Notes

(1) 'Legislative Council of New South Wales - Immigration Report', The Sydney Morning Herald, Friday 9 September 1842, p. 2
(2) Babette Smith, 2014, The Luck of the Irish, Sydney, Allen & Unwin, pp. 17-18
(3) Paul Mullaly, 2008, Crime in the Port Phillip District 1835-51, Melbourne, Hybrid Publishers
(4) As above, pp. 282-283
(5) As above, pp. 405-406
(6) As above, pp. 272-273
(7) As above, pp. 747-749
(8) As above, pp. 737-739
(9) 'Criminal Sittings', The Melbourne Argus, Wednesday 5 February 1851, p. 2
(10) The Sydney Herald, Monday 26 October 1840, p. 3
(11) Flan Enright, 'Pre-Famine Clare: Society in Crisis', <http://www.clarelibrary.ie/coclare/history/prefamine_clare.htm>
(12) James S. Donnelly Jr, Irish Peasants: Violence and political unrest 1780-1914, <http://www.historyireland.com/18th-19th-century-history/the-terry-alt-movement-1829-31>
(13) As above
(14) Pat Feeley, 'Whiteboys and Ribbonmen: Early Agrarian Secret Societies', City of Limerick Public Library, p. 26
(15) M.R. Beames, 1978, 'Rural Conflict in Pre-Famine Ireland: Peasant Assassinations in Tipperary 1837-47', Past and Present, No. 81, p. 75. Also in C.H.E. Philpin (ed.), 2002, Nationalism and Popular Protest in Ireland, Cambridge University Press.




 

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