November 1846
‘GENTLEMEN, I HAVE SEEN TERRIBLE THINGS RECENTLY,’ DAN ADMITTED, trying to control his emotions as he recalled the tragic deaths of poor Julia Murphy and Denis McKennedy. ‘Women and children in a weakened and perilous state, hungry men who are not fit to work on the public relief schemes. It is incumbent upon we who sit on the relief committee to find some other means to assist them, for we can no longer stand by and watch our people as they starve and die before our very eyes.’
‘Dr Donovan is right,’ agreed chairman Thomas Somerville as they sat around the table in the meeting room of the workhouse. ‘We can no longer wait for Charles Trevelyan and his cronies in the Treasury to act. We must try to find an affordable solution.’
‘Perhaps here could be further utilized for such urgent assistance?’ suggested Michael Galwey, looking in Dan’s direction.
‘I’m sorry, Michael, but the workhouse is already full,’ Dan admitted regretfully. ‘There is talk of us having to procure more buildings here in town, to house the additional sick and destitute.’
‘Then what can we do to help the hungry?’ Father Fitzpatrick demanded.
‘The roadworks are oversubscribed. The men flocked to them only because they needed to be fed,’ interjected Daniel McCarthy. ‘Food is what is urgently needed!’
‘Then it is our Christian duty to find some way to feed them,’ insisted Reverend Richard Boyle Townsend.
‘We must provide relief that does not involve hard labour or people agreeing to enter the workhouse,’ Dan proposed.
‘I agree with the good doctor.’ Reverend Townsend nodded, his thin features animated. ‘If we provide food for the poor, there must be no conditions. It must be gratuitous relief.’
‘Gentlemen, you do realize the enormous task we may be undertaking here?’ warned Daniel McCarthy. ‘We may have to feed hundreds – nay, thousands – of poor souls a day.’
‘The workhouse serves soup or gruel to the inmates mostly every day, along with bread or some rice,’ Dan informed them. ‘I believe there is great need to provide a similar type of meal once a day for the hungry here in the town. Miss Penn of the Society of Friends told me of large soup kitchens in Manchester and London which the society ran. They kept thousands of poor people alive by serving similar gallons of soup and rice.’
‘Providing a soup kitchen here in town to feed the hungry is exactly what is needed.’ Reverend Townsend nodded, excited.
‘There must be no charge for the soup,’ warned Father Fitzpatrick. ‘We must provide gratuitous relief, as Reverend Townsend suggested, with no conditions.’
‘No charge? But feeding such a large number will be costly,’ reminded the town’s brewery owner.
‘Mr McCarthy, you know well that they have not a penny to purchase food.’
‘That I do. God help us, I see them every day, hungering. But how are we to raise the funds ourselves for such a large endeavour?’
‘By subscription, rates money and, of course, charitable donations,’ Tim McCarthy Downing said slowly and deliberately, looking around the group. ‘The money will have to come from that.’
A low mumble passed around the committee.
‘A large soup kitchen will cost a tidy sum to operate, what with ingredients and a few cooks or servers. Then there is the business of having to find suitable premises to hold such numbers!’ Daniel McCarthy reminded the room.
‘I would offer my church grounds, but we have no building large enough to house such a kitchen,’ sighed Reverend Townsend. ‘My church will fully support it, however, and contribute towards the running cost.’
‘I am in a similar position,’ nodded Father Fitzpatrick, ‘in that we have only the church itself, which is the house of God.’
‘What about that property on the river? The new steam mill?’ ventured Michael Galwey.
‘The steam mill is not yet in use,’ suggested Tom Marmion, the land agent for Stephen Fitzgerald Townsend, one of the largest absentee landowners in the district. ‘It might be suitable for such a venture.’
‘Tom, I cannot see Reverend Fitzgerald Townsend agreeing for it to be used for such an endeavour when he refuses even to consider forgoing rent payments from his suffering tenants during this calamity.’
‘I suspect there is little generosity or charity in the man.’ Father Fitzpatrick sighed despondently.
‘This matter does not concern Reverend Fitzgerald Townsend,’ Tom Marmion responded. ‘The property does not belong to him.’
‘Then to whom does it belong?’ quizzed the chairman. ‘Who do we approach?’
‘I am the proprietor of the mill.’ Tom Marmion’s cheeks flushed. He knew full well that he had surprised the assembled gathering. ‘I had hoped that it would be busy milling these past few months. However, given the situation, it is not the proper time to open such a venture. That is why I would like to offer it for use temporarily. To serve as a distribution centre, be it for soup or as a food depot, or whatever is considered necessary by the committee.’
‘That is most generous of you, Tom,’ Father Fitzpatrick offered.
Dan nodded in agreement. Though he suspected that the purchase of land and construction of a new mill must have cost Tom a pretty penny, money likely amassed from the large rents he collected for Reverend Stephen Fitzgerald Townsend and his like.
‘You are a good fellow,’ cheered Daniel McCarthy. ‘The mill would be ideal for such a venture to feed the people. Perhaps the good doctor can enquire at the Union about the composition of a soup or meal to sustain the hungry of the town during this time of crisis. And we will endeavour to purchase large boilers and such like.’
The soup provided by the large Union kitchen to the workhouse inmates was unappetizing but cheaply produced. It provided the necessary sustenance, though to Dan’s mind many of them still suffered from poor nutrition.
‘I’m sorry not to be able to help further, doctor,’ the cook apologized when he consulted her, ‘but we are already overstretched here with the huge numbers that must be fed.’
Mrs Hegarty from the Becher Arms offered to assist them, but the soup usually served in her hotel was too rich and expensive for their needs.
‘But it is no problem to make a cheaper standard soup,’ she advised, ‘that will be both filling and nutritious.’
Henrietta and the Donovans’ maid, Sally, had both been intrigued when he questioned them on the merits of the good restorative soup that he regularly enjoyed in his own home.
‘We use some meat – often left over from another meal – turnips, parsnips, onion and carrot, doctor,’ explained Sally. ‘We used to have potato but now barley or another form of meal has to suffice.’
Dan made a note of the quantities needed.
‘Mary McCarthy and Elizabeth Townsend both told me that their husbands have got a sudden notion for soup and tasting it,’ Henrietta teased him as she spooned some oxtail broth into his bowl. ‘Abigail Penn kindly provided us with a recipe that the Society of Friends has used successfully to make gallons of soup for the needy.’
Although the provision of adequate nutrition for an adult was the aim of his research, Dan soon realized that taste and texture were also important. The soup they provided must be palatable to those who desperately needed it. Good cuts of meat would be impossible to obtain, but Sally assured him that poorer quality meat, and even offal, was just as good once some sort of seasoning was added during the cooking process.
Dan, along with Father Fitzpatrick and Michael Galwey, Tim McCarthy Downing, Reverend Townsend, Daniel McCarthy and Tom Marmion retired to the Becher Arms. There, Mrs Hegarty, after much consultation and perusing of the recipes of the Union, Miss Penn and others, had agreed to prepare and serve them each a bowl of standard soup that would be nutritious and suitable for serving the large numbers required at a reasonable cost.
Though he felt the meat had become rather stringy, Dan declared that the soup itself, which was thick and similar to a stew in its consistency, was good to taste.
‘I like it,’ agreed Father Fitzpatrick.
‘It’s a nourishing meal,’ proclaimed Michael Galwey as he spooned the last of it from his bowl.
‘A little more barley, perhaps,’ suggested Daniel McCarthy, ‘will make it more filling.’
‘Dr Donovan, it is a good soup to fill a hungry belly,’ enthused Reverend Townsend.
Mrs Hegarty and her cook were both proud that they had managed to provide a nourishing basic soup capable of feeding so many.
A few days later, escaping the heavy rain, Dan joined the committee at the large, impressive steam mill which stood at the side of the river.
‘The first thing we need is to find someone who will agree to organize and manage the soup kitchen. Someone who is available to do it on a full-time basis,’ proposed Thomas Somerville. ‘We are all busy men. Unless there is someone here, ready to take on such a task …’
Dan looked around him. Who among them could give up their own work for such an onerous duty?
‘I may know someone,’ interjected Reverend Townsend. ‘A fine clergyman of my acquaintance who may be available. That is, if he has not already been assigned to a new parish. Reverend Frederick Trench has great strength of character and determination, and I believe he would be the type of man to take on such a challenge as part of his Christian duty. I will write to him immediately to inform him of our plans and see if the position here is of interest to him.’
The chairman nodded in agreement. ‘We will await his reply eagerly and, if he is so disposed, arrange to meet him.’
‘We will need a huge boiler, and large cooking pots and ladles, and a big preparation area in order to feed such numbers,’ warned Daniel McCarthy. ‘I am willing to provide a boiler and the like, but we are going to need people to prepare the soup, and then cook and serve it, and clean up and keep order.’
‘We will need long tables and benches for people to sit at and eat,’ added Tom Marmion. ‘I will be happy to provide them.’
‘The people should be given a daily ticket to attend the soup kitchen and must show it, otherwise we risk people returning again and again,’ suggested their treasurer, bank manager John Clerke.
‘Mrs Hegarty from the Becher Arms has kindly offered us a cook and some of her kitchen staff to assist us temporarily. Her business has suffered greatly with all that has happened, for these days there are few visitors willing to stay in the town for more than a day or two,’ Thomas Somerville explained.
‘I’m sure more ladies from the town will volunteer to help once we open,’ added Father Fitzpatrick.
‘Then let us waste no more time. Let us plan to open the soup kitchen to the public as soon as it is possible,’ declared Reverend Townsend. ‘For every day we hesitate, more poor souls are lost.’