Savagery and sorrow on a country road
LAY OF THE LAND
THE Christmas manger reminds us that momentous events can have the humblest of beginnings. Like a boreen in this county, which in December 1831 was the site of a spectacular defeat for the Crown and the biggest loss of police life in a single incident in this country.
The catalyst was land, in the form of a tithe levy on its produce, which paid for the upkeep of the Anglican Church and clergy. Not surprisingly, as Patricia Cullen notes in In the Shadow of the Steeple, many Catholics and dissenting Protestants deeply resented it. But peaceful resistance and negotiations were met by arrogance and brute force.
Apparently, the conspirators behind what would be the most catastrophic confrontation of the ‘tithe war’ tried to avoid violence. But their tragically ill-considered strategy would see a veteran of the Battle of Waterloo finally meet his Waterloo on a narrow country road.
Certainly, Captain Gibbons felt confident that his 40-strong force of constabulary could protect Edmund Burke, a despised proctor, as he delivered a process to be served on Dick ‘Waterford’ Walsh for non-payment of tithes. But though the winter sun was shining on that fateful December 14, all was not as it seemed. Chapel bells rang in all directions and huge crowds were converging on Hugginstown, under the plural pretext of a funeral and a football match, just as the constabulary arrived. Trouble kicked off when the paper was shoved under Walsh’s door, the crowd responding with such fury that Gibbons ordered his men to prime and load their carbines. Their way was repeatedly blocked, leaving them no choice but to enter a narrow lane.
Grimly resolute men advanced, armed with sticks and farm implements, while a crowd of roughly 2,000 swarmed on either side of the loose stonewalls. Gibbons ignored his men’s entreaties to enter the fields so as to avoid being boxed in, his superior weaponry giving him a false sense of security. Till John Kennedy caught hold of his horse and Nicholas Murphy asserted “all we want is the process server; hand him over and the rest of you go free”. But Gibbons refused — even when hedge school master William Kane shouted he couldn’t hold the crowd, warning: “Butler or blood!”
A scuffle broke out and James Treacy was pierced with a bayonet as Captain Gibbons fired a single shot — the last act of his life. For a deafening roar for vengeance rose as the crowd hurled rocks. Gibbons was knocked off his horse and he and Butler were savaged with long-handed mallets. The embattled constables fired a volley of shots until, unable to reload in the crush, they too were overwhelmed.
The ‘Battle of Carrickshock’ won improved conditions for Catholics and was celebrated countrywide. But old people who lived near the blood-soaked boreen “did not speak about the events of that day as murder had been done”.
They knew Silent Night is both a nativity song and a lament for lost souls.