Crying Irish Eyes

Crying Irish Eyes

By

Paul Downhour

© 2001 by Paul Downhour. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 0-7596-9191-6

ISBN: 978-0-7596-5745-8

1stBooks—rev. 03/09/02

Contents

Forward

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Forward

The throngs of Irish immigrants who left their beloved homeland and traveled across an often dangerous and threatening ocean to a new land were subjected to anguish and suffering beyond their worse nightmares. They frequently traveled on ships with such deplorable conditions that they were referred to as coffin ships and even after they arrived in America, their lives would be changed forever. Some would later find America to be the land of milk and honey, but at first, most found its borders offered a strange way of life in a country so huge that it baffled their wildest imaginations.

The time of starvation that prompted the sudden exodus from Ireland became known as the Potato Famine. During the first two disastrous years, which was the height of the famine, hundreds of thousands of desperate people immigrated, died of starvation, or vanished from the face of the earth as if they had never existed. Then after these frightened, impoverished, and bewildered immigrants arrived in America they were exposed to unimaginable prejudices and psychological hardships as they attempted to eke out a living for themselves and their families. There are today more people in the United States of Irish descent than any country in the world because of this massive immigration.

When the wind blows the rain from different directions in Ireland, people often say, ’Tis a desperate day. And it was the rain coming from various directions followed by a dense fog and the potato blight that wiped out their food supply during the horrendous years of the potato famine, which prompted their hasty departure from their lovely country. The Irish have suffered more atrocities than most immigrants, yet with their strong sense of family, a willingness to work and perform hard labor, and their enjoyment of social activities they have always remained upbeat and optimistic about the future.

This story is a celebration of life for all Irish and the Irish at heart who have made America the nation that it is today, and it explores the love that those of Irish descent have toward their families and of their beloved homeland.

Chapter one

There will be no presents for Christmas this year, the sobbing young mother uttered, as her husband slowly pushed her in a rickety, old wheelbarrow from the small cemetery alongside the shell of an abandoned church.

Martha was too frail to walk, and as they turned their backs to the sorrow they were leaving behind, she continued to weep while looking into the eyes of her twelve year old daughter, Elizabeth, who was walking alongside. She said, So sorry, but we do not have any money or anything to exchange for something to eat, let alone, Christmas presents. But God still loves us, and He knows we would have a huge Christmas celebration with lots of presents and gifts with plenty of food to eat, if we could only afford it. And with those reassuring comments, the young mother dropped her head and flooded the area with the wailing sounds of her sadness.

Things had become grievous everywhere, especially among the tenant farmers, due to an enormous time of hunger that ravished the Irish countryside. These people rented their small earthen and stone houses along with a piece of rocky soil that was unsuitable for the cash crops of wheat, oats, and barley. This strip of otherwise useless dirt was used to grow potatoes, which was their primary source of food, and it was tended to after spending all day toiling in the fields for the landowner.

This pathetic situation was worsened by the limited amount of earth that could be cultivated to raise any kind of crop, because the land had been subdivided so many times to accommodate the endless number of young peasants that nobody was able to prosper. So as the fields became smaller, so did the little patches of rocky dirt that provided potatoes for their subsistence. This resulted in generations of one family oftentimes living in the one room, sod-roof dwellings, just as their ancestors had done in the past.

They constructed their houses from the rocks they removed from the fields, and these rocks were held together by mud and straightened with wooden posts. Then the entire dwelling was covered with sod from the nearby bogs to serve as a roof.

It was customary for the peasants to marry in their middle teens and have large families, thus providing more hands for the backbreaking work in the fields. Sons were most beneficial, because they could provide the bulk of the heavy labor so they could raise more profitable crops and this would likely prompt the landowner to reward them with a larger potato patch. Some were able to grow a few vegetables, which included cabbage, peas, beans, carrots, and turnips, in addition to their staple of potatoes. But these vegetables could cause them to come under the landowner’s scrutiny and be taxed for their meager niceties with demands of bigger cash crops. And if the landowner saw anything they thought was fancy, the allotment could double, as they did not want tenants to become wealthy while farming their land.

Yet the fortunate ones who worked hard, were able to afford a few extras, such as a fiddle or a harp. They would be able to entertain themselves in the evenings and especially on weekends when they came together for folk dances and other social activities around the huge bonfires they lit in the corners of their fields. And since the peasants were a close-knit group of people, often relying upon one another for strength, they never thought twice about sharing their precious stores of potatoes when a neighbor or friend came to visit. They even considered it an insult if their guests would not stay and eat.

The problem facing Ireland in the early 1800’s was that as these peasants increased in number, there was no place for them to go and there was a continuous subdivision of the available land. This resulted in a population being so densely crowded into the large rocky island that the 1841 census determined Ireland to be the most densely populated country in Europe. And although most of the farms consisted of less than thirty acres, the tools were primitive, the work was manual, and the hard, grueling labor caused the long summer days to seem endless. But with the land being divided and subdivided so many times and with several hungry mouths in each household living on potatoes that were grown on less than a half-acre of property, many were living on the brink of starvation even during good times.

The winters were quite wet and ideally suited for crops that remain tolerant of the moisture. The commonly called Irish potato, which had been imported from Peru by the Spanish in the early 1500’s, became a nutrient rich food crop that would sustain life and could be grown practically anywhere. It was well suited for the peasants and became their primary food source, which they cooked into a soup or stew and oftentimes added some carrots, cabbage, and turnips.

Fortunately, the rich soil usually provided good crops, and it was up to the tenant farmers to maintain the delicate balance between what the landowner required and what they needed to exist. Some of these landlords were very wealthy, but most were dependent upon the harvests of their tenants and they often demanded more ground be used for cash crops and less for the unfortunate peasant to feed his family. This was especially true of the absentee landowners who relied upon overseers and whose bonuses were based upon the profitability of the land.

It was the church that supplied soul-fulfilling needs; providing a reason to live and giving them encouragement for the future, while furnishing an inner peace and the spiritual influence to calm life’s troubled waters. The church also gave meaning to their pathetic existence, especially during the times of frequent crisis, which brought the community together.

John and Martha O’Malley had gotten married at the age of sixteen and were blessed with a daughter that they named Elizabeth. After living with John’s parents for seven more years, they were able to go out on their own. Just as their ancestors, they built a small rock and sod, one-room, earthen-floored dwelling that they called home. They also had a donkey that had been given to them, along with some goats, by John’s parents.

Things had been pretty good in the early part of their married life. After paying their allotment of wheat, barley, and oats to their wealthy landowner, there was enough potatoes and vegetables in the dirt patch alongside their dwelling to sustain them through the cold, wet winters of Ireland, and into spring of the following year.

Being on their own was hard work, but John was ambitious and his younger brother Peter, who just turned thirteen, had come over from their cramped family home to live with them, thus providing another pair of hands to help in the fields. John wanted the best for his attractive, red-haired wife, Martha, and since she also wanted some nice things for herself, she frequently joined her husband in the fields when she finished her chores. They tried to make work fun by making little games out of the backbreaking, manual labor that was necessary to provide a living. This made the long summer days seemingly pass quicker, while relieving the stresses of daily life.

They worked as a team and neither complained about the drudgery of the long day’s routines that would start at the crack of dawn and not end until the evening shadows darkened the landscape. They toiled in the rocky soil and patiently helped other tenant farmers convert bog-covered, marshland into ground that was suitable for planting crops.

This was important for them, because by converting unusable soil into cropland they were able to produce bountiful crops for the landowner and their potato patch could be increased in size. This reclaimed farmland was rich in nutrients, so the crops were bountiful and they were able to keep their rent current and afford some extras. They were looking toward their future with children and grandchildren in a household that was united with love.

Martha’s parents had lived along one of Ireland’s rocky hills where the poorest of the poor lived. They had been newcomers to the small nearby community and nobody knew much about their background, though everyone considered them to be good, hardworking people. Their neighbors befriended them and one brought over a donkey and a plow to clear some of the hillside. This enabled them to grow a better crop for the landlord and enlarge their potato patch. They, in turn, worked in the fields of these generous neighbors, to help them with their crops, and were given some goat’s buttermilk for their assistance.

They had lost another child during childbirth, and although Martha was their only child and was still much too young to work in the fields, they were trying to eke out a living along the harsh mountainous areas of Ireland and hoped to provide a better life for their growing family and have more children.

One fog-draped evening as her father was trying to make it back home in the darkness, he fell on a small cliff behind their tiny tenant house and when her mother heard his cries, she dashed out to help him. But unfortunately, she tripped on a wet, slippery rock and fell alongside her husband who was nearly unconscious. They both succumbed to their injuries within a few days. The church took Martha in and she was raised in its small orphanage.

Martha was happy when John asked for her hand in marriage, because his family lived on better ground and in one of the few areas of Ireland where the tenants could increase the amount of farmland by reclaiming a bog, and the meager luxuries they had been able to afford made her feel that they were wealthy. They lived near the village of Ballinglass, County Galway, and his parents traced their lineage back through several generations in the community.

Martha was always the first to arise in the morning and she would quickly stoke up the fire in the rock fireplace with some dried sod from the nearby bog. Then John and Peter would arise and make themselves ready as she prepared their modest breakfast. The cherry red glow of the fire in the small rock fireplace seemed to bring life into their house and remove the dampness and humidity of the cool, moist night air. Martha would always sing during these early morning hours to create a happy environment and to awaken the others in the household. As her joyous singing began to reverberate throughout their tiny dwelling John would throw his arms around her and lovingly tell her that she had the voice of an angel.

Sometimes he would pick up his fiddle and produce a music that was reminiscent of the peasants, a tune that was both lonesome but cheerful at the same time. Then Martha would take her small harp that had been given to her as a child at the orphanage, and although it was small enough to be a toy, she would produce notes that seemed to echo throughout their small dwelling as she joined in with her husband and played some old Irish love songs.

Peter would smile in envy at his brother and his little family and yearn for a companion as lovely as Martha for himself. To him, their love exemplified the beauty of Ireland, and their loving, family bond was strong as the rocks they toiled to remove from the fields.

If it was a workday, this fun and frolicking would usually end as abruptly as it had started, because there was work to be done—hard, backbreaking labor. After a few fleeting moments of pleasure, the reality would set in and John and his brother would eat breakfast then head into the field to tend the cash crops for the landlord, while Martha did chores that consisted of straightening up their house, which she was very proud of, then going to the small attached rock barn to milk the goats. She would then strain the goat’s milk through a piece of cloth and put it up in containers, so the cream would separate overnight. She would take the cream from the containers she had put up the previous day and make them ready for the landowner, who would send a servant around to pick it up. After that, she would busy herself by making and mending clothes and preparing lunch. After they ate, she and Elizabeth would join her husband and brother-in-law in the fields to tend to the cash crops of wheat, barley and oats that belonged to the landowner.

They knew if they had a good crop, they might be allowed to increase the size of their potato patch, and this would allow them to have a little surplus and they could exchange this for supplies of flour, sugar, and if they were fortunate, some coffee for John.

In the past they had been able to purchase some nice clothes for special occasions that included a beautiful gown for Martha, which drew up to show her red petticoat; and a matching coat with corduroy trousers for John. Having these niceties made life a little more enjoyable and it gave a brighter hope for the future.

They ate potatoes instead of bread and drank buttermilk in place of cheese. But they had one another and as they laid down and went to sleep, they gave thanks to the Lord for the day they had been allowed to live and prayed for a better day to await them in the future. That was all they had to live for, one another and the future, and they hoped and prayed the future would be kinder than the past.

Martha was a small woman, even frail by Irish standards of the day, but she had a huge heart and centered everything upon God and her family, and their ability to provide for themselves and their future. She had insisted on working in the fields, even when she was with child, which resulted in her having two miscarriages. She was heartbroken at the time, but accepted it as something she had no control over. She loved children, and especially Elizabeth, because this child was a part of herself and her husband and she found pleasure in looking into Elizabeth’s bright blue eyes each day and realizing that her daughter was the result of the intense love that she had shared with John. She knew they needed more children, not only for nurturing, but to help in the fields, because before long John’s brother, Peter, would be taking a bride and probably living with them for a while, but then he would move on.

Martha had obtained a fourth grade education at the orphanage, and although John was unable to read and write at the time of their marriage, they spent evenings around a small oil lamp as she went through the alphabet and taught him some basic arithmetic. This was important, because he was head of the household, and had to deal with the landowner and make certain his family was not cheated out of anything that was rightfully theirs.

Martha insisted on Elizabeth attending school. She knew that most of the other children would never have any formal education and she had seen so much illiteracy among the others within the countryside that she was determined her daughter would not be like the others, even if it meant that they went without food.

This young couple was quite well off by the standards of the community, but they had worked hard and labored together to obtain what they had.

Then, things went bad. For some reason, earlier the previous year a sea fog had come in from the Atlantic Ocean. This fog would not lift or burn off with the noonday sun as it had in the past, nor would it go away. It continued to build up until it was so thick that people could barely see in front of them even during the long daytime hours. This unyielding fog was a new phenomenon, which no one had ever experienced.

People began to talk about the fog as if it was a demon sent to blanket the life-giving rays of the sun and cause their crops to die. Then as if the soupy vapor was not bad enough, it was also accompanied with horrific rainstorms that pierced the silence of the countryside with the constant crack of thunder and huge celestial displays of lightning. This result in the landscape being covered with water.

Little did anyone suspect that before long their worst nightmares would became a reality, and with this reality would come devastation to their very subsistence.

It was summertime and John and Martha had row upon row of healthy potato plants in their little garden. He began to walk over their potato patch, in the thick, soupy fog and peer at the healthy plants that would be providing a bountiful fall harvest for his family. Then he would walk over the field he was growing for the landowner’s rent. Everything looked healthy and the wheat and oats were putting out extra stems of grain, but he was worried. This fog, this tremendous, thick sun-blocking curtain of mist was blocking out the life-giving light and heat of the daily sunlight. It was not normal, it had never been this persistent in the past, and it was mysteriously strange, different, and devilish. The rain was soaking the ground, and the fog kept the sun from drying it out.

John was certain that everything would begin to wilt and die due to the lack of sunlight. Then the worst possible thing happened, something the Irish people had never seen or witnessed ever in their lifetime—potato blight.

Within a matter of a few days all the potato plants became covered with a black, mildew-like growth and they began to die as the immature potatoes rotted in the damp, moist soil. No one knew what it was, only that it was killing the potatoes, and they had never seen such a sudden change come upon their precious potato plants before. They did not know if this pestilence was coming up from the bowels of the earth in the form of the devil, or from the heavens with the rain and fog in the form of punishment from God for their sins. All they knew was that it was destroying their food source, and without food, they would die of starvation.

John and Martha began to dig the immature potatoes in a state of panic, hoping to satisfy their future needs for food. But even the few they were able to salvage from the dampened earth became covered with this black decaying mass that seemed to destroy everything associated with the potato plants. And most surprisingly was that the cash crops, those grown to satisfy their rent, were unaffected by this horrible atrocity. This blight was only affecting the potatoes and the potato was the predominate food source for the peasants, since many did not consider the wheat, oats, and barley to be eatable.

Not only was the village where John and Martha lived being effected by this strange, devilish sea fog, it was affecting all of Ireland, and panic broke out among the populous. Within a few days the odor being given off by the rotting potatoes began to cause a horrible, sickening smell that dominated the countryside. They realized if they did not work in the fields and tend to the healthy cash crops for the landowners, they would be evicted, and being evicted was worst then starvation, because there would be no place to die.

Within a few weeks nearly every potato in the country had succumbed to this horrible blight, and to make matters worse, most of those stored in dry earthen cellars rotted as well and there was nothing to eat. Some of the poorest peasants who lived in the most inhospitable places began to desert their shabby dwellings and head into the cities hoping to find work so they could feed their families.

It was a blessing when the sun finally came out a few months later. But visible in the sun’s warming rays of hope was a vapor coming up from the ground; it was the heat being given off by the rotting potatoes still in the soil, radiating back into the heavens.

Many landowners declared, Just because our tenants have had some misfortunes, does not depreciate the value of the homes and property they rent. They must still pay. These statements prompted a practice that became known as tumbling.

The policy of tumbling became commonplace when the peasants who were behind on their rent, had their dwellings destroyed by the military and police who rode in on horses. There was no recourse for the tenants but to face the consequences and hope for the best, since the landowners had the government on their side.

As the peasants began to depart from the countryside with hopes for a better life in the city, they left the landowner’s cash crops unattended in the fields, and the landowners knew they would be unable to pay their taxes without this harvest. Some had squandered their money and had no reserves to pay their taxes, others were government officials, and between their hunger for power and money, they had little regard for the plight of their tenants. They simply thought of them as animals in the shape of human beings.

Starvation became prevalent and people began to eat their sheep, goats, and horses, as well as their dogs and cats. They learned that neither the potatoes nor the potato plants were good when their animals died after eating this rotting mass of putrid, decaying vegetation. But even then, there were families who bundled together and died after trying to eat the dirt where their potatoes had grown.

Some turned to the mossy-like fungus that grew on the rocks, which had previously been used to fertilize their potato plants. They cooked it and often added some insects so this concoction could be turned into a life-sustaining broth, while others tried to survive on weeds, grass, and even nettles.

John and Martha gave up their donkey and all but two of their goats for some food, and as the food supply shrunk, the cost of obtaining any more soared. But they felt fortunate that they had an excellent harvest of the cash crops for the landowner and were ahead on their rent payments. They were certain this pestilence would soon be gone, and they were able to help John’s family as well, just as they had helped John and Martha get started.

Then the worst thing happened, which at the time was thought to be a blessing; Martha became with child. This would mean another helper around the house in a few years and she was determined not to spend too much time in the fields, which might risk injury to her unborn child. But they realized until the child was old enough to work, it would be a burden in other ways. The child would consume much of the time that Martha had been spending in the fields, and it might cause their rent to increase. But they were thrilled, because through their great love and devotion to one another they would be bringing a new life into the world.

It was only after the days began to shorten and the occasional patches of frost started to appear on the ground that the fog finally went away. John worked hard all through the long, wet winter to make his wife comfortable, but she was undernourished from the lack of food, and her body was taking nutrients from herself to feed her unborn child.

In March, 1846, as spring was approaching, their wealthy landlord decided to get rid of some tenant farmers. The landlord had previously commented to friends, They are a pitiful lot, and their crude dwellings stink. I own the land and I want to turn it into a lovely grazing pasture for my beautiful farm animals, and my horses and ponies. Then I will not have to listen to their sob stories and have the scenery of my countryside obstructed with the likeness of those pathetic individuals.

The area had sixty-one dwellings that housed nearly three hundred people. Everyone felt secure because they had worked hard clearing the land and increasing the landowner’s wealth, and their rents were either current or paid into the future year. They had reclaimed nearly four hundred acres, and the pride in their accomplishments was reflected in the upkeep of their houses that were solidly built with plastered walls. Nevertheless, the inhabitants were told to give up possession of their homes, and the following day the authorities entered the community and began to tumble each dwelling.

The panic struck residents cried and begged the police and soldiers not to destroy their meager houses and precious keepsakes that had been handed down through the generations. Some even wrapped their arms around the door posts, but they were plucked from their housing, only to watch everything fall into a pile of rubble amongst their cursing, sobbing, and screams of terror.

That night the residents tried to sleep in the ruins while enduring the sounds of others crying out to God for mercy. Then the authorities returned the following day and set fire to the wrecked buildings. The landlord also told the remaining tenants that they would suffer the same fate if they allowed these evicted people into their homes.

There was no where to go or no place to live, except in the woods under a fallen tree’s roots, or by using some sod from a nearby bog to construct a hole they could crawl into for protection from the elements.

Many simply dug holes in the ground two to three feet deep and roofed it over with some sticks and pieces of sod while supporting the structure with rocks. The entrances to these holes were so low that it was necessary to crawl to get inside. They were hollowed out on the inside to a height of four to five feet that would accommodate as many as eight family members. Others sought out caves in the mountains and lived with the wild animals since shelter of any kind had become a luxury.

After a couple of weeks living in the woods, Martha developed a cough and John secretly moved himself, his brother Peter, Elizabeth, and Martha back into his parent’s small house. By this time, the bad publicity of this selfish landlord had become common knowledge and everyone realized that threats of tumbling the homes of those who offered a sanctuary to the evicted individuals would not be carried out.

The arrangement to move back home made sense, because they could share in the meals and tend to their ancestral fields, though there were no extras. They had hastily planted some carrots, cabbage, and turnips in the family’s small potato plot to produce something they could eat, and although it was a small patch for such a large family, they were confident that they could make it, because this was the only way any of them would survive.

When insects got into their food, John’s father remarked, We have a little extra meat at no additional cost, while trying to remain upbeat about their deplorable living conditions. Everyone in Ireland was looking forward to the springtime and a bountiful harvest that they were certain would spring forth.

That winter it snowed and drifted over a foot deep. At first the snow was viewed as a sign from God that their troubles would soon be over, since snow in Ireland was such a rarity. But it was accompanied by strong, hurricane force winds that forced the cold, damp air into the dwellings and through all the clothing that the poor people could use to protect their frail bodies. Many froze to death in their sod covered rock and earth homes, as most had traded their winter clothes for something to eat.

With the spring came that beautiful, warm, soul quenching sunshine, and although Martha was in a family way, she joined her husband and his family in the fields. They desperately needed a good harvest this year to make up for the previous year’s disaster, and of course, everyone had to eat and she assured herself that the Lord would take care of her unborn child.

But as the potatoes and vegetable crops started to come up, thieves began to come during the nighttime hours to take away from the bounty of the labor of those who had been able to replant. The authorities were called, but they declined to intervene. This was a problem unique to the poor people, and they wanted to stay out of it. Besides, they realized that they might soon be evicting some of these tenants who were unable to pay their rent.

John took turns guarding their humble plot of rocky, rented property, hoping for a good harvest. It was sad to run someone away from their private garden when they realized that all the thief wanted was something to put into his body to stop the acid from eating up his stomach lining, but each family member was concerned with having food and the hospitalities of the past were forgotten.

Fortunately, with the spring also came a beautiful stand of potatoes and everybody knew the fields would become laden with the fruits of their hard work. They were optimistic that the sea fog, heavy rains, and the blight of the previous year were a thing of the past.

Then amazingly, at nearly the precise time as the previous year, the sea fog reappeared and blanketed the entire country of Ireland. The frantic people did everything, even lighting huge fires in the middle of the day to help burn off the devilish fog. And of course, along with the fog came the rain, and this time it seemed to come with even more intensity than it had the year before. But worst of all, within only a couple of weeks that same blackish blight, which had been so devastating during the previous year, also reappeared.

As thousands of acres of potatoes began to rot under a coating of this devilish growing matter, chaos broke out. People were being murdered over a few loafs of mildewed bread, or while trying to keep someone from stealing the last of what few chickens they had. Food riots became commonplace, with starving people rushing the warehouses where food was being stored and the ships that were loaded with food leaving the country. This food had been harvested by the peasants to pay their rent and tons of it was being exported daily by the landowners to pay their taxes. There was little left to feed the hungry peasants, though Ireland was being ravaged with a famine of Biblical proportions.

The Irish government appealed to England for aid, as the previous year’s help had spared many lives. However, a sea of bureaucracy hindered assistance while thousands died of starvation. Even the hastily established soup kitchens failed to inhibit the massive amount of human suffering and death that plummeted the country. In spite of all their hardships, many landowners persisted in using military force to evict the starving tenant farmers from their property, and some of these took up arms against the military, but they were literally slaughtered.

The ancient cemeteries that dotted