They sold their souls for penny rolls,
For soup and hairy bacon.
—LOUIS O’MALLEY, EDGEWORTHSTOWN, COUNTY LONGFORD
SOME OF THE SADDEST stories of the Famine years are about parents who could not feed their children, or mothers who died with their infants still trying to nurse. As the food crisis deepened, people saw sights that they would never forget as long as they lived.
One shopkeeper remembered a mother who cradled a malnourished baby in her arms. “The poor little thing was gaunt and kept whining for something to eat,” he said. He gave the mother some milk, but later that day, he found her lying dead by the roadside. The baby was still alive in her arms.
It was shocking to hear stories about families so desperate for money to buy food that mothers had to decide between feeding their infants and feeding their older sons, so that the latter might have the strength to work. “A man employed on the public works became sick,” the Reverend B. O’Connor told members of the Killarney relief committee. “His son, who was fifteen years of age, was put in his place upon the works. The infant at the mother’s breast had to be removed, in order that this boy might receive sustenance from his mother, to enable him to remain at work.”
It was even more disturbing to hear reports of parents who committed unthinkable acts of infanticide, murder, and suicide, rather than see their children suffer.
Such tragedies are difficult and unsettling to think about today. In 1847 a Quaker wrote sympathetically about how starvation affects the body and the mind: “Poor things! I can wonder at nothing I hear, after what I have seen of their fearful wretchedness and destitution. None of us can imagine what change would be wrought in us if we had the same shocking experience.”
Until the potatoes grew again, the Irish needed to find food or money to buy food. For some, this meant turning to crime; for others, it meant turning their back on the Catholic faith. It wasn’t easy for honest people to turn to crime or for devout people to give up their faith.
’TWAS NO SIN
Like all countries, Ireland had its share of crime—the usual debtors, beggars, prostitutes, pickpockets, and drunkards. Overall, Ireland had always been a tranquil country, with little unrest, and the Irish were law-abiding people. But now as the blight devastated the potato crops, hunger drove people to desperate measures.
Though some people participated in food riots and attacks on shops, most crimes were small, committed by people struggling to survive and provide for their families. Small crimes consisted of stealing food: potatoes, turnips, cabbages, meal, butter, or livestock.
Was it a sin to steal when you and your family were suffering from hunger? Some priests told their starving parishioners that they should always ask for food first, but if they were refused and if they were in extreme need, then they should not hesitate to take food. Patrick Dempsey agreed, saying, “And sure, ’twas no sin, and you starving, to steal whatever you could to eat.”
Some laborers stole food from farmers’ kitchens. Thieves carried spoons in their pockets, and when they found an untended pot of gruel, they stole right from the pot. One County Wicklow man went into a farmer’s house and helped himself to a leg of mutton boiling in an untended pot on the fire. “His family were hungry,” said his granddaughter, Mrs. Kavenagh. “So, despite being scalded, he took the meat out of the pot and brought it home.”
Children helped to keep their families alive. After wheat, rye, and oats were reaped and stacked, they sneaked into the fields to fill bags with grain. “You would never see anyone in the daylight,” said Mrs. Gilmore from County Westmeath. “The grownups would stay in the houses and their children would steal under cocks of hay or stooks of oats and rye. . . . When night would come and they had their little bags full, they would steal back to their houses and boil the grains for supper.”
After farmers planted their seed potatoes, people plundered the potato beds, using long sticks with a nail driven into one end. They jabbed the stick into the earth, and each time the nail struck a seed potato, they pulled it up. In other cases, as soon as the stalks appeared above the ground, people rooted out the potatoes before they were half grown.
Farmers protected their crops as best they could. They sat up at night to guard their turnips, cabbages, and livestock. They stayed home from church on Sundays. Some dug dangerous mantraps, or trenches, in their fields. The trenches, about eight feet deep and two feet wide, were concealed with brambles and grass. “People lay in wait and when the robber fell into the trap, he was pounced upon and beaten to death with sticks,” said Thomas O’Flynn. “In some cases the trap held water and the robber was drowned.”
Landlords hired armed watchmen to guard their property against trespassers. In County Mayo, a watchman arrested sixteen-year-old Tom Flynn for fishing in the river that ran through the estate. Tom later returned to the river and dumped lime into the water, poisoning the fish. “The fish floated, bellies up, to greet the gentry,” said Tom’s granddaughter, Elizabeth Gurley Flynn. Before Tom could be arrested again, he ran away and boarded a ship bound for Canada.
People convicted of crimes received harsh sentences, even for small crimes like trespassing. One woman received a three-day jail sentence for trespassing through a farmer’s cabbage patch. An Ennis man was given a two-year jail sentence for sheep stealing, an activity he engaged in to provide for his wife and four children. While he was in jail, his wife and six-year-old daughter died from starvation. In County Wicklow, two boys caught stealing turnips managed to stash the bag beneath a bush. After serving a three-month jail sentence, the boys returned to the field, found their bag of stolen turnips intact, and carried them home in triumph.
Some convicted criminals were sentenced to “transportation,” or exile. They were shackled and shipped to Australia, where they served several years of hard labor in the barbarous British penal colonies. One sixteen-year-old boy found guilty of stealing a cow was sentenced to transportation. The judge felt bad about the sentence, considering the boy’s age, but he decided that young people must be punished when they broke the law. “Young lads like the prisoner should not be allowed to steal with impunity [without punishment],” he said. “The best thing would be to send him out of the country.” Once transported, people rarely returned.
As the food crisis worsened over the winter of 1846–47, newspapers continued to publish reports about food riots, plundered shops, overcrowded workhouses, and whole families that perished in their cabins. Members of the middle and upper classes grew alarmed as they realized that jail and transportation weren’t enough to deter criminals.
The news disturbed Sir Charles Trevelyan, too. At last, he faced the hard facts: the Irish laborers needed food. He decided to feed them soup.
THE SOUP KITCHEN ACT
Soup seemed an ideal food for three reasons: it was nutritious, inexpensive, and easy to make in large quantities. Served with a piece of bread or meal-cake, soup would provide a cheap but nourishing meal for thousands of destitute people.
In February 1847 Parliament passed the Temporary Relief Act, better known as the Soup Kitchen Act. Once again, the relief was slow in coming. It took four months and ten thousand ledger books, eighty thousand sheets of paper, and three million soup tickets to establish the government soup kitchens.
At last the soup kitchens opened in June. For the first time, government food relief was available to the poorest laborers without having to enter the hated workhouse. They could remain at home and get food from a local soup kitchen. This was a significant difference, since it allowed the laborers to tend their potato beds, which would ensure food for the next harvest.
The soup was made in huge vats or pots, called boilers, and distributed at a temporary feeding facility, called a soup kitchen. “It was made from small quantities of meat but chiefly vegetables, nettles, and herbs,” said Felix Kernan. “A quantity of the steaming liquid was given to each person daily.”
People with ration tickets lined up outside the soup kitchens. Each time a bell rang, one hundred people were admitted and given a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. They hurried to their seats at a long table, where a spoon was attached to a chain, ate quickly, then left by the exit door. The bowls were rinsed, the bell was rung, and the next group was admitted.
Despite the strict rules, some starving people fought to get ahead of others and even snatched food from others. “When the crowds queued up, there was a man who was supposed to keep order,” said Sean Cunningham. “He was most cruel and often beat unmercifully those waiting with a heavy cudgel or stick.”
Once inside, ravenous people risked injury when they couldn’t wait their turn. “The hungry creatures, often unable to wait until they were served, plunged their hands into the boiling cauldrons,” said Felix Kernan.
In some unions, people walked several miles to reach the soup kitchen. Weak from hunger, some died along the road or fainted when they reached the entrance. Others died as they waited in line. Some people dropped dead as soon as they ate, since the sudden intake of food often causes a malnourished body to experience shock.
Doctors questioned the nutritional value of a soup diet, claiming that soup alone did not supply the nutrients necessary for the body to maintain strong bones, muscles, and blood. A lack of vitamins contributed to outbreaks of diarrhea and a disease called scurvy, which caused teeth to fall out and bones to weaken.
A soup diet was especially harmful to people suffering from dysentery. Commissariat officers agreed with the doctors, complaining that the soup “ran through the paupers.” Nonetheless, soup kichens replaced the public works as the main source of government relief.
Charitable groups and individuals also established soup kitchens. Although most benefactors gave generously and freely, a small number were evangelical Protestant zealots. They gave soup, money, and clothing only to Catholics who gave up their faith and converted to Protestantism. These evangelical Protestants were called “soupers,” and their recruiting activity was called “souperism.”
Overenthusiastic soupers went from cabin to cabin, urging the hungry Catholics to attend Protestant church services or Bible study classes in return for food. They printed religious tracts that criticized the Catholic faith and gave the tracts to children to take home to their families. The soupers also left the tracts in public places and tossed them along the road and into cabins, in hope that Catholics would read them.
Some soupers tried to force Catholics to break with their faith by serving soup with meat on Fridays, a fast day when Catholics were forbidden to eat meat. “Any Catholic who turned Protestant or ate bacon or beef on Fridays got as much soup and meat as they wanted to take,” said James Argue from County Cavan. “But anyone who refused to eat beef or bacon on Fridays got nothing at all.” Some people claim that soupers tied the hands of Catholic children behind their backs, to prevent them from making the sign of the cross before they ate.
When a Catholic farmer’s wife heard about the souperism in her district, she decided to help her neighbors herself. “She started a rival kitchen on her own, to combat the hunger and the proselytism,” said Mary Murphy from County Cork. “She gave of her beets, potatoes, sour milk, and oatmeal to her less fortunate neighbors.”
Many people refused to convert, no matter how hungry or destitute. When one souper offered food to a starving woman and her son if they renounced their faith, the mother turned to her son and asked if it were better to take the soup or die. In Irish, the boy replied, “Is fearr an bas, a mháthair” (’Tis better die, Mother). Many devout Catholics agreed. “The Catholics in these parts died on the roads sooner than partake of the soup,” said one woman from County Down.
But hunger drove others to give up their faith, at least for a little while. When one priest discovered that a former parishioner had converted, he admonished the parishioner, telling him, “You cannot please God and the devil.” The parishioner assured the priest, saying, “Ah, Father, it’s only till the praties [potatoes] grow.”
In County Tipperary, converts were given new clothes in return for attending the Protestant service. The next Sunday, they wore their new clothes to Mass at the Catholic church. The Protestant minister demanded that they return the clothes, but the “converts” refused, claiming that they had fulfilled their promise.
According to Thomas Kelly, one poor Catholic family was on the brink of starvation when the mother “took the soup” for herself and her two sons. She attended the required Protestant church, but she followed the rituals of the Catholic Mass throughout the service. “She knelt on the floor and recited her rosary continuously while the minister officiated,” said Thomas. The minister had a change of heart, and at the end of the service, he told her that she did not have to come back to his church.
Overall, soupers and souperism were rare, but where they did exist, they left a lasting and bitter legacy. They created great tension between the Catholics and Protestants and between those who took the soup and those who refused. Some people believed that those who took the soup left a curse upon their village.
However, it would be a mistake to think that people treated members of their own religion more kindly or more generously. Religious differences may have divided some people, but the opportunity to profit tended to unite them. Most Catholic and Protestant merchants, shopkeepers, and moneylenders were found to charge equally exhorbitant prices and interest rates.
CHARITY MUST BEGIN AT HOME
Some resident landlords and large farmers had always helped their tenants during hard times. When the potato crop failed, they continued to use their own money and resources. They made soup and stirabout in their kitchens and doled it out on their estates. “The Marquis of Downshire was anxious to do all he could to relieve the poor on his estates,” said Francis Mac Polin. “It was a common sight to see the poor running along the Briansford Road to Hilltown with their wee tin cans for their rations.”
Much famine relief was performed by women, often the wives and daughters of large farmers, landlords, and officials. Elizabeth Smith, wife of a County Wicklow landlord, wrote in her diary: “Charity must begin at home. . . . We are giving milk and soup to all our workmen and soup to all our sick and aged. . . . We must buy another cow for we are running short of milk and butter.”
Some children helped others their own age. In Kilrush Union, seven-year-old “Little Miss Kennedy,” the daughter of a Poor Law inspector, saw children who had only rags to wear during the winter months. She gave away her own clothes, then part of her mother’s wardrobe. When that wasn’t enough, she purchased cloth with her own money and sewed clothes for the children.
Women established schools for local children. In “industrial” schools, children studied reading and writing and worked at fancy knitting and embroidery. The items they made were sold in London for the children’s benefit. One observer noted that a twelve-year-old girl often knitted all night to make items to sell. The girl’s work kept her family from the poorhouse.
Ordinary people with little extra for themselves helped others as best they could. “Old Mrs. Cremin was very good and full of charity to the poor and hungry,” said Ned Buckley. “She always boiled a lot of potatoes and put the leftover ones near the fire for any hungry poor person who might chance to call the house. A few potatoes half-cold and a basin of milk was a great boon to such starving people.”
“My mother’s people lived in Gleann,” said another woman. “The house was near the road, and a pot of stirabout was kept for any starving person who passed the way. . . . One day a big fathach [giant] of a fellow staggered in. He wolfed his share of stirabout and made for the door, but there was a tub of chopped cabbage and porridge for the pigs. He fell on his knees by the tub and devoured the stuff.”
When parents died, brothers and sisters looked after each other, often committing extraordinary acts of self-sacrifice and heroism. When two orphaned brothers, ages nine and five, knocked on a woman’s door and asked for bread, the woman gave the older boy a piece left over from her breakfast. “You must divide this with your little brother,” she told him. Before she closed the door, she saw him hand the bread to his younger brother, saying, “Here, Johnny, you are littler than I and cannot bear the hunger so well. You shall have it all.”
The Society of Friends, also known as the Quakers, was the largest organization to provide soup and food for the hungry. Members used their close ties with American and English Quakers to import rice and provide equipment to set up soup kitchens in many areas throughout Ireland. They contributed clothing and bedding, distributed seed, and encouraged the growth of new crops, such as flax, which could be sold. They also helped to develop the fisheries.
The British Relief Association raised donations for Ireland primarily through a letter-writing campaign. Queen Victoria contributed two thousand pounds (about ten thousand dollars), and other donations came from England, America, and Australia. Members of the British Relief Association worked closely with local relief committees and provided money, food, fuel, and clothing. They granted each distressed Irish union a sum of money that was used to provide two hundred thousand schoolchildren with a daily ration of rye bread and warm broth.
Many Americans felt sympathy for the starving Irish, and they held concerts, tea parties, and “donation parties” for the benefit of Ireland. Young women in boarding schools sewed clothing and other useful articles to sell. They donated the proceeds to Ireland.
Many southern railroads in the United States waived tolls on roads and canals for provisions headed to Ireland. Though United States government aid was not officially sanctioned, Congress gave permission for two naval ships, the Jamestown and the Macedonian, to transport food and supplies to Ireland. It was an exceptional gesture, considering that the United States was engaged in a war with Mexico at the time.
A remarkable contribution came from an American Indian tribe, the Choctaw Nation, which felt a special kinship with the suffering Irish. Fifteen years earlier, during the winter of 1831–32, the Choctaws were removed from their ancestral lands in Mississippi. During the “Trail of Tears,” half their nation died on the six-hundred-mile forced march to Oklahoma. In 1847 they donated $110 to Irish relief.
The greatest amount of money came from Irish emigrants already in the United States and Canada. They sent ten times as much money as any other group, often in the form of passage tickets to help their family members emigrate. In 1847 alone, they sent nearly a million dollars to their homeland.
THE FAMINE IS OVER
At first, many poor people hated the idea of taking free government soup, believing that it was degrading to accept charity. Some said they would rather starve, while others waited until nightfall to seek their ration. “The poor people, bad though their plight was, still preserved some of their dignity and often waited for cover of night before going for their meal of soup,” explained Kathleen Donovan.
By mid-August 1847, government soup kitchens were feeding an incredible three million men, women, and children a day, with noticeable results. In Skibbereen, the hamlet where so many people had suffered terribly over the previous winter, the relief commissioners noted that the general health and appearance of the population had improved. Few people died during the summer months, thanks to the soup kitchens.
Over the summer, the potato plants were watched closely. When the early potatoes were harvested, there was good news. Little evidence of blight was found. With great relief, Sir Charles Trevelyan announced that the food crisis was over. He ordered the government soup kitchens to close.
Once again, the decision came too soon, for the Famine was far from over. The 1847 harvest was healthy but hopelessly small. There were not enough potatoes to sustain the Irish population over the coming winter. The laborers had two choices: either enter the workhouse or starve.