Rural Ireland in 1887 was riven by the Land War, and under the auspices of the Land League, tenant farmers were increasingly organising and campaigning for their rights. Many of the landlords were absentees, and cared little for their tenants.
In 1879 due to poor economic conditions landlords in Clare were asked to reduce their rents. Some obliged, but Colonel John O’Callaghan, who owned 4,842 acres in the country and lived in a mansion near Bodyke in east Clare, was opposed to tenants organising. He refused the necessary reductions and became the subject of a boycott.
Clare Library says that a “demonstration organised by the Land League in Scariff, in November 1880, attracted over 10,000 people. A notable feature of the meeting was the prominence of the local clergy in the conflict. Fathers Peter Murphy and J. Hannon, parish priest and curate respectively of Tuamgraney/Bodyke, were active and enthusiastic ‘Leaguers’.”
“On 1 June 1881, a party of 150 police accompanied by Colonel O’Callaghan, arrived at Bodyke to serve writs on 26 tenants for non-payment of rents. By the time the process-serving party arrived at the village, a large crowd had gathered, some carrying sticks. John Moloney, was struck with a rifle butt and died the next morning.”
The opposition to the 1881 evictions became known as the ‘Battle of Bodyke’ and conflict and turbulence continued throughout the decade until the now equally notorious attempts to evict tenants in 1887.
O’Callaghan decided in June 1887 to put together an eviction party – in common parlance often described as the ‘crowbar brigade’ – consisting of agents, the RIC, soldiers, bailiffs and hired muscle. Thousands had gathered to oppose the evictions and tenants were determined to resist.
“To delay the process, tenants barricaded their houses, and, as the emergencymen attacked the walls of the house with crowbars, they were showered with boiling liquid, cowdung and other unpleasant materials. All this was accompanied by the cheers and jibes of a huge crowd. After gaining entry goods and possessions were passed out and placed on the road and livestock rounded up and removed,” Clare Library reports.
“On that first day of evictions the delaying tactics of the tenants resulted in only two households being evicted – those of John Liddy, and the eighty year old widow Margaret McNamara, who put up a noble defence.”
Each evening, a public meeting was held to support those evicted and those awaiting the ‘Crowbar Brigade’. These were attended by a vast crowd who were entertained by local bands and addressed by Michael Davitt and others.
THE O’HALLORANS
One house where they encountered brave and determined opposition was that of the O’Halloran family of Lisbarreen, near Bodyke.
The O’Halloran sisters – Annie, Honoria and Sarah – lived with their parents and their brothers, Patrick and Frank. The family had been tenants on the land for generations and they disputed the rent being charged by O’Callaghan.
In June 1887, like many others, they prepared to strongly resist eviction, barricading their doors and windows. The sisters became known far and wide for their feisty, courageous and defiant stand against the crew sent to drag them from their home.
Annie, Honoria and Sarah actively took part in the defence of their family home, pouring boiling water to scald the bailiffs, hitting those seeking to force entry with poles – and even wrestling a rifle bayonet from an armed policeman seeking to enter the house. The crowbar brigade eventually retreated “well scalded”.
Their brother Frank’s exciting first-hand account of the day of the eviction was published in the Irish Times on June 15, 1887, and has been re-published by the Clare County Library. It is worth reading in full.
“This holding has been handed down to us from generations; it consisted of between 17 and 18 Irish acres, and the rent was, I believe, in my grandfather’s time as low as £13-10s. During my father’s time the rent was increased to £22-10s., or £23-1s., to £31, and it was subsequently reduced in Court to £22-10s. as first-term judicial rent. We did a lot of improvements there. We built the house ourselves — a two-storey slated house, and, with our own labour, it cost us £220, and had almost built an out-house at a considerable cost also. As for the land, no one could work harder than we did to improve it.’
When asked if his land was good and if he was able to make a profit, he said that most of the money was got from well-to-do brothers in Sydney and some from the Board of Works.
‘“In consequence of this, we considered that we should be well treated, and, when the time for eviction came, we were firmly resolved to defend the house with our lives. Our family consisted of the father and mother, Honoria, Annie, Sarah (Sisters), and Patrick and myself. For weeks before we were making preparations for the siege. We blocked up the doors with formidable logs of trees, and treated the windows in like manner. We also blocked the door which connected the two parts of the ground floor so as to make the progress of the evictors still more difficult when they got in. We were sure they would attack a certain corner of the house, and inside this we heaped up a large quantity of earth and scraws and stones.“We used then to have to get in and out of the house through an upper window by means of a plank, and, or course, we took off the boards of the first floor in order that we could scald the bailiffs when they came in.
“On the morning of the eviction we were up at the break of day and laid our plans, each to defend a certain point and none to waiver, whatever might come. We boiled plenty of water and meal, and, when all was ready, we kept a look-out for the bailiffs and the rest of them. At this time I was only home a few months from America, and during my absence, I may add, I did not learn to love Irish landlordism or English rule.
“We had not long to wait, as the attacking party appeared over the hill at about half past ten o’clock, and pretty formidable they looked too — police, soldiers, bailiffs, and all followed by a large crowd of tenants. We had two portholes broken out commanding the eastern rear corner, and had plenty of pitchforks and poles to meet the rifles and the bayonets when they would attempt to scale the windows.
“Mr. Davitt, however, came up and deprived us of the pitchforks. I guess he thought there would be blood spilt if they were there. When the bailiffs approached with picks and axes we waited until they would come near enough for the hot fluid to scald them. The police shouted to us to go in from the portholes or that they would shoot, but we took no notice of them.
“I remember that, as they raised their rifles, the thought struck me that it was a queer country where the sons of people were amongst the greatest enemies the people had.
“The police were not more than 25 feet away, but they did not fire. The bailiffs attacked the corner, and the sisters threw cans of boiling water on top of them, making them speedily retire, while the girls stood waiting with more water ready to fire, but they took no notice of them either. The crowd outside became terribly excited, as they saw by this that we meant no surrender in earnest. I had a long pole defending the corner, and I found that I could not use it effectively from the porthole which I was at, as I was a left-handed man; so I got an iron bar and broke a hole through the roof, a shower of slates falling on the emergency men outside.
“Then I got water and took off the slates, which I fired at them, but I don’t think any took effect but, anyway, we had the satisfaction of seeing that we made it impossible for them to continue at the corner. For about three-quarters of an hour, the struggle continued, and finally, the defeated emergency men gave up, some of them well scalded. Then they went to the end of the house and the police got scaling ladders to get through the window on the second story, so I exchanged places with my brother and went to the porthole at the gable-end, which he had been defending up to this.
“At this time some unfortunate delay occurred about handing up the water. My brother went to see what was wrong, and while he was so engaged a policeman entered through the window. He was met by Honoria who caught a grasp of his sword-bayonet. He was just bent down in the act of jerking it from her when I saw him. I knew that if he gave the pull he would have cut her fingers off and ruin her hands. There was not a moment to spare. I jumped off the platform and struck him with my clenched fist under the chin and sent him sprawling to the other end of the room. My sister was then in full possession of a rifle, bayonet and all, and sure she did use it. She rushed to the window and scattered the police outside right and left, and cleared the ladder outside, which was crowded. All this happened in a few seconds. My brother had now returned with the water, and I went to Honoria’s assistance. I got a big pole: there was a policeman at the top of the ladder; I put it to his chest, pushed him into an upright position.
“The policeman behind him pressed him on, while the crowd yelled, wild with delight. I shoved harder and he fell to the ground, amidst deafening cheers and shouts. Others pressed on, to meet the same fate. Now we thought it was high time to evict the policeman we had inside. We got him near the window to throw him out. The police outside rammed their bayonets and wounded us several times, so we had to throw him back again instead of throwing him out.
“The fight now began properly. We attacked them with all our might and so fierce was the struggle that we smashed a sword-bayonet and injured several of those outside. Eventually, we cleared the window again and victory was hailed with thunders of applause outside. The forces outside were dismayed, as if they did not know what to do next.
“We thought that the little respite we got could not be made better use of than by ejecting the policeman who still remained inside, so we caught him again.
“Out he would have gone at the moment for certain, but Father Hannon was at the top of the ladder. He put up his hands and said: ‘Don’t throw him out, Frank.’ The good priest intervened because he knew that the police would fire the next time.
“Well, anyway, his word was law with the whole of us, and little wonder; so I promised him I would do nothing and let him go. The police then rushed in after Father Hannon, and Father Hannon held me as if in a vice. I never felt such a grip before or since. A great big coward of a policeman struck my mother and handled her brutally. ‘Father Hannon’ said I, ‘are you going to hold me while they choke my mother?’ He let me go. I made a spring forward and struck the policeman a blow of my clenched fist, which quietened him anyway.
“The house then became full of police, and several of them grappled me. I made no further struggle; I knew that it was useless, and felt satisfied that we had done all in our power. We were all taken into custody to be sent to jail, and Mr. Davitt and Father Hannon got permission for the former to accompany the girls to jail. In a moment or so we were on the car ready to start, when the girls were released, to be prosecuted in the ordinary way.
“They brought my mother and myself to Limerick Jail, where we were kept until they brought us up for trial. All the tenants took forcible possession immediately, and they remained there until a settlement was come to the following February.”
VICTORY, HARD WON
The O’Hallorans were allowed to return to their home, and eventually, in 1909, along with other Bodyke tenants, they were given the chance to buy and own their land. It was a victory won by unity, courage and the indomitable force of family.
Clare Library reports: “By the 15th June, the final day of evictions, 28 tenants, out of 57 in the Combination, had been evicted. After each eviction the tenants had reoccupied their houses by nightfall, the evictions being primarily a legal exercise. As the ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ reported ‘After the [eviction] forces had gone, however, the crowd rushed in, forced the door, relighted the fire, replaced the furniture, and a score of willing hands rebuilt the wall. So much for O’Callaghan’s victory and the supremacy of the English law’.”
“The presence of the local and international press at Bodyke ensured widespread coverage of the evictions, coverage which was considered biased by many. Henry Norman, a reporter with the radical ‘Pall Mall Gazette’, reported, photographed and sketched extensively throughout the proceedings.
Other liberal newspapers reported the evictions in great detail, to the acute embarrassment of the Conservative government whose Land Bill reached the Commons in June 1887. Balfour, the Chief Secretary, expressed the wish that evictions be restrained during that month.”