Resilience in the Face of Adversity:
The Morrissey Miracle
The year was 1881, a time of great oppression for tenant farmers in Ireland. Thomas Morrissey was one such farmer who toiled each day, nurturing the land with a fervour matched only by the love he held for his family. Yet, June 8th of that year would mark the onset of an arduous chapter in his life, an ordeal that would test the strength of his spirit and the bonds of his community.
Thomas Morrissey, a humble farmer from Carbally, in an area known as Ballygarron, was faced with eviction from his family's homestead. The man responsible for this heart-wrenching ordeal was none other than his landlord, Mr. R.T. Carew of Ballinamona Park. The root of the issue lay in a dispute over the rent, which Morrissey adamantly considered to be unfair and oppressive. He had reached a breaking point, a line in the sand that he could not cross.
At that time, the humble farm of Tom Morrissey faced a financial crossroads. The annual rent for his cherished land amounted to £104, which seemed increasingly burdensome given the property's valuation at £72. Tom found himself struggling, owing either one year's or one and a half year's rent. It was a precarious situation for a hardworking farmer like him. For over two centuries, the Morrissey family had maintained an unwavering presence on the Ballygarron farm, their roots firmly intertwined with the land. Since the distant year of 1750, this homestead had witnessed the passage of generations, each nurturing the earth and leaving their indelible mark upon the landscape. Tom Morrissey, the latest custodian, had dedicated his heart and soul to its well-being throughout his lifetime. To him, this farm wasn't just a piece of property; it was a repository of family history. As he approached his twilight years, the prospect of departing from his beloved home must have been an agonizing and inexpressible separation, for it meant relinquishing not just a place, but a sacred legacy that had been nurtured for generations.
Adding to the problems of Tom Morrissey, it was revealed that Mr. Carew, the landlord, had followed a customary practice of raising rents for all the tenants in Ballygarron upon acquiring the estate. In the case of Tom Morrissey, this resulted in a substantial increase of £9 per annum, making the burden even more unbearable.
The turning point in this story came one fateful June day when the landlord chose to carry out an eviction. In a cruel twist of fate, the landlord seized the tenant's growing crops. For Tom Morrissey, these crops were not just a source of sustenance; they represented his hopes, dreams, and financial security. They had been carefully tended to, and their value had been assessed at a remarkable £140. It was publicly acknowledged that if those crops had been left untouched, they could have cleared Tom's looming financial liabilities.
The Morrissey family's connection to this farm spanned generations, their sweat and toil enriching the land and the community. The eviction not only disrupted their lives but also revealed the stark contrast between the struggles of the tenants and the decisions made by the landowners. It became a poignant chapter in the history of tenant-landlord relations, highlighting the plight of hardworking individuals like Tom Morrissey, whose lives were uprooted due to the economic pressures of the time.
The early hours of that June morning brought with them an ominous presence. A formidable force of the Royal Irish Constabulary descended upon the Morrissey farm, fully armed with rifles and sporting the dreaded spiked helmets. Accompanying them was the stern and unyielding sub-sheriff, Mr. J.T. Hudson. They had embarked on a journey from the city of Waterford to execute the eviction order.
At the heart of this heart-wrenching tableau stood the figure responsible for Tom Morrissey's despair – none other than Mr. Carew himself. Driven by a relentless pursuit of his objectives, this landlord assumed personal control over every facet of the eviction, overseeing each cold and heartless detail with a steely resolve.
But the true tragedy of that sombre day unfolded in the form of Mrs. Morrissey, an elderly woman who had witnessed decades of life's trials and triumphs within the walls of her cherished home. The house was not just a shelter but a repository of countless memories, a sanctuary of warmth, love, and familial bonds. It was within these walls that laughter had echoed, tears had been shed, and countless stories had been woven into the tapestry of their lives.
As she stood there, frail and despondent, Mrs. Morrissey watched with heavy heart and tearful eyes as her cherished home, and the life that she and her family had built, crumbled to the ground around her. She, like the old, sturdy oak tree in the yard, had weathered many seasons, but now faced the harsh winds of change that threatened to uproot her from the very soil she had tended for years. At her age, she lacked the energy and vitality required to embark on a new chapter in life. The weight of this ordeal was compounded by her declining health in the days leading up to the eviction, her frail body serving as a symbol of her desperation.
In an act of unspeakable cruelty, the bailiffs, following Mr. Carew's heartless orders, carried Mrs. Morrissey out of her home. Her cries of anguish pierced the air, a heart-breaking symphony of pain and loss. They left her sprawled on the ground in the yard, the same yard that had once seen the joys of children playing, and now bore witness to this painful expulsion. It was a scene that would haunt the collective memory of the entire area, a stark reminder of the toll that unchecked power and ruthless eviction practices could exact on innocent lives and the enduring trauma left in their wake.
In the midst of the tumultuous eviction, a beacon of compassion and solace emerged for the Morrissey family in the form of their neighbour, Mrs. Phelan. With a heart that overflowed with empathy and kindness, she not only opened her home but also her arms to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Morrissey during their darkest hour.
As the Morrissey family faced the loss of their home, Mrs. Phelan's gesture of support became a lifeline. She didn't just offer them shelter; she provided a sanctuary of warmth, understanding, and unwavering care. In those trying times, the walls of her home provided solace and refuge, while her words and actions offered a glimmer of hope in a sea of despair. Mrs. Phelan's selfless act was a heart-warming reminder of the human capacity for compassion and empathy.
News of this eviction sent shockwaves throughout Ballymacaw and Carbally, sparking a fire of collective outrage and defiance. The mere fact that Mr. Carew had overseen the eviction proceedings added fuel to the growing flame. The incident was swiftly reported to the Central Branch of the Ladies’ Land League, an organization dedicated to defending the rights of Irish tenant farmers.
In the wake of the eviction, rumours began to circulate about the prospect of a new tenant taking possession of the vacant farm, however, fate had other plans. On the eve of the incoming tenant's scheduled arrival, tragedy struck as flames engulfed the property, reducing it to ash. Since that fateful night, no tenant had dared to venture near the charred remains of the Morrissey farm. The charred ruins stood as a haunting reminder of the injustice that had transpired and served as a stark reminder of the enduring wounds of the area. A profound sense of desolation had settled on Carbally like a shroud.
In the subsequent twelve months, the Morrissey family had faced immeasurable hardships and privations. Yet, their unwavering commitment to the national cause did not go unnoticed. In the midst of the turmoil that swept through Carbally, a remarkable story of resilience and community spirit emerged. While the people of Carbally had not formally organized a branch of the Land League, they had nevertheless pledged their support by paying subscriptions and registering as members, subjecting themselves to the laws and regulations governing such membership. This unity of purpose would prove pivotal in the face of adversity.
As the landlord attempted to sell Tom Morrissey's hard-earned crops, the people of Carbally and Gaultier stood united in an act of silent resistance. Not a single soul among them was willing to offer even a paltry sum for the confiscated crops. Their reluctance stemmed not from an absence of goodwill but from a genuine fear of the repercussions that might befall them should they defy the prevailing public sentiment. It's essential to remember that not all the farmers in the area were staunch followers of Parnell, Davitt, or the Land League.
Faced with the impossibility of selling the crops, the landlord was left with no choice but to appoint an "emergency man" as the farm's caretaker, with the added responsibility of harvesting and preserving the crops.
In the face of this adversity, the story takes an unexpected turn. A group of young ladies in the community who had recently formed a branch of the Ladies' Land League, contacted the head office and requested materials for building a new house for Tom Morrissey. However, building the house posed a significant challenge. Erecting it on Mr. Carew's land was out of the question, and other landlords' tenants hesitated to invite unwanted attention by allowing a Land League Hut to be built on their property. It demanded a considerable amount of moral and physical courage for any tenant to take such a bold step.
Finally, Michael Corcoran of Kilmacleague, the father of Miss Margaret Corcoran, who served as the secretary to the Ladies' Land League in Carbally, decided to be that courageous man. He embraced the responsibility, recognizing the risks and challenges it entailed. His wife, equally nationalistic and fearless, supported his decision, turning it into an unmistakable act of defiance against the landlord combination.
The Ladies' Land League in Carbally, led by the indomitable spirit of individuals like Margaret Corcoran, saw their application for timber to build the hut for Tom Morrissey favourably received at the head office. Arrangements were then made to transport the materials to Michael Corcoran's farm.
The community rallied in support, with horse-drawn waggonettes adorned with ribbons and flags, and a substantial number of farmers' carts, arriving at the railway station to collect the timber. The arrival of these materials on the Waterford side of the river was met with jubilation. The air was filled with cheers, and a sea of hats and handkerchiefs waved in celebration of this act of benevolence.
The cheers could be heard all through Waterford City as the group awaited the arrival of the Waterford Total Abstinence Band. When the band joined the procession, the collective of supporters transformed into a procession of no less than a couple of thousand individuals. On reaching the Quay clock, opposite Barronstrand Street, the Thomas Francis Meagher Fife and Drum Band fell into rank, immediately after the other band, and so the procession moved along, each playing attentively as they proceeded around the Mall.
With the bands leading the way, playing "God Save Ireland" with fervour and reverence, an atmosphere of unity and determination prevailed. The procession wound its way through the city, traversing the Mall, along Beresford Street, and then out into the countryside, until finally reaching Kilmacleague, where the precious timber was deposited on the Corcoran family's land, marking a symbolic victory for the community.
Throughout these proceedings, the people of Ballymacaw and Carbally, and their supporters, maintained remarkable order and tranquillity. They had weathered the storm of hardship, injustice, and tragedy, but in the end, it was their unity, compassion, and unwavering resolve that illuminated the path forward. The story of the Ballygarron eviction was one of resilience, solidarity, and hope—a testament to the enduring spirit of a community that refused to be broken by adversity.