Connolly Margaret nee Culhane, Barnigue, Carrickerry died on Feb 5th 1936 aged 96 years. Her great-granddaughter Una Mangan nee Barry, (who is still hale and heart today, June 26th, 2024), left us with an account on the hardship of the famine times and of the many unscrupulous landlords of that time and there afterwards. Much of the information she got from the said Margaret Connolly. Una was married to Mangan, a doctor in Dunmore East, Co. Galway.
Una tells us…….. ‘the soup kitchens, the number of deaths rising week by week in the town workhouses, the coffin ships, the Indian meal and the dreaded famine fever. Crowds of women and children crying out for something to save them from starvation gathered outside the Landlord’s door. One landlord was Colonel Dickson, sometimes spelt Dixon, built the school and brick houses in Clounleharde and is known to this day as Bricktown’.
Says Una...’The dark chapter during the 1880’s when John Delmege, Landlord of Glensharrold Estste,. raised the rent triple fold the original rent. Terrible evictions and untold misery took place and even starvation.’ Delmege, aided by his agent Hosford, liked to use his property for shooting game with his friends. He forbade his tenants to keep a dog to hunt for a hare or rabbit while the people were starving. Even a cat was forbidden, possibly to protect wildfowl.’
There was a time when two people walking from Knocknagorna towards Carrickerry died on the side of the road with green matter seeping from their mouths after eating the grass in an attempt to stay alive.
Una remembers the Landlord, Yielding of Glenastar, who lived quite near. ‘The house was beautifully situated and instead of formal gardens, there was a wooden glen and waterfall. John Yielding was related to Delmege and in my childhood Richard Yielding and his mother occupied the house. In the afternoons, Mrs. Yielding and companion, Josephine drove by with her chauffer, down to the Shannon. We often met them as we came from school, and in winter they were wrapped in furs. When Mrs. Yielding died her son came there. Mrs. Yielding, her son and lifelong companion Josephine, are buried in Churchtown cemetery, Newcastle West.‘
‘My grandmother, Mary Griffin nee Connolly came to live with us for twenty years and she was a great source of affection and education. Although confined to her chair with rheumatism, her hands were seldom idle. She taught us to knit and sow on her Singer foot machine, still going! I can see her sitting there, singing. She sang ‘Boolavogue’ and ‘The Three Flowers’, ‘Bold Robert Emmet’ and also drawing from ballads. She told us stories of the ‘Titanic’ and the ‘Lusitania’, Easter Week’, and the ‘War of Independence’. There were sad tales of emigration, of people who walked to the Cork courthouse and of transportation. Con Colbert from Athea was executed for his part in the Easter Rising, and we believed he put the flag over the G.P.O. The roads were trenched in an effort to defeat the Black and Tans. These people endured the rackrent and the desperation. God rest them all.’
‘She told us droll stories too, on the origin of the phrase, ‘I doubt it, says Croker’. Captain Croker had a big estate, and when he was dying, he sat upright at the window to survey his lands’.
Sweet Ballinagarde, how can I leave you’, he said.
‘Captain’ the parson assured him, ‘you are going to a better place.’
‘I doubt it’, said Croker, ‘I doubt it’.
‘Our first radio was a wonderful thing – a large ‘Atwater Kent’ with an aerial from a high pole outside. There was the dry battery and the wet battery which was charged in the garage in Newcastle West, when needed. Then we had the matches, the Sunday play, ‘Take The Floor’, Question Time and all the other programmes. Om Good Friday the radio programmes were silent – what a change!. Duly, on the day of abdication for Edward V111 the radio was tuned in. A number of neighbours who were interested in the Royal Family came in to hear the dramatic announcement. Unfortunately, in the middle of the abdication speech the batteries went out. Whenever I hear the abdication speech I remember that scene’.
‘Neither my grandmother nor granduncle could speak Irish, apart from the usual Irish words and phrases. The National Schools had doner their work well, and in one generation (due also of course to emigration) Irish was lost as a living language. But not everywhere, Michael Hartnett, the poet from Newcastle West, was raised nearby by his grandmother, and she spoke only Irish with her neighbours in Rooskagh’.
‘Another member of the family was my granduncele, Mick Connolly’s wife, Mary O’Neill. She was always reading. We called her ‘Mom – Mom’ and she brought another dimension to our lives, because she had travelled on board ship to America, and told us of her life there. She had attended a recital by the great pianist, Paderewski. All this was told to us while she baked in the pot-oven, or assembeled her mincer to make a meat loaf. There was plenty of eggs for a special dessert, ‘Floating Island’, meringues in a custard sea. Her books were kept in a wall recess in the parlour. One I remember contained to coat of arms and Mottos of Irish and Norman families.. We found the O’Neill’s and our Barry Motto ‘Boutex en Avant’, which gave its name to the town of Buttevant. Another book which I later remembered while doing the Renaissance course for the Leaving Cert History was the ‘Viper of Milan’ on the Viscount family’.
‘All the Connolly family were dear to us – Paddy, Mona, Eily and Jim. One of my granduncles emigrated to Melbourne and later on his daughter Molly, whom we all knew very well, was appointed to the Australian Embassy in Dublin. She often came down to see us, as it was her mother’s place also’.
‘The emigration to America continued after the famine and many never came back. I can recall a woman called Maggie Kenneally coming in to tell my grandmother that her daughter Mary had died in America. She had never seen Mary since she left, and they grieved together. The traditional trades like the Cooper had died out with the advent of the creameries. The firkins of butter were sent to the butter market previous to that time. With large families to support, the emigration to England began and as there was no employment in the countryside, people travelled outside their own area for work’.
‘The hiring-fairs were held in the square in Newcastle West, and the sercice contract usually was from early Spring until Christmas Eve, with perhaps a few days off for Listowel races or Puck fair. The lot of the servant boy or girl was not a life of leisure. There was a very well show on a radio docummentary called ‘The Sky over O’Leary’ – a satire on their hard lot. Two men once called to our house for a night’s lodging. They were walking from Valentia Island on their way to find work. By 1940, due to the advent of the milking machine, local industry and due also to emigration, the hiring fair died out in Newcastle West’.
‘Giving alms was part of living. If a traveller came, then they were not refused. Our more or less travellers were called Faulkner – Maggie, Mickey and their son Jackie and their numerous family. But many travellers from the West called to the house on their way to Listowel races or Puck Fair. My mother never refused anyone. Others travelled alone – like a man called ‘down and out’, because whenever he was asked how he was, he said ‘down and out’. Another visitor was Nellie Mulcahy, who used to call for a meal and her bus fair, and travelled all over West Limerick and North Kerry. Brendan Kennelly wrote a poem about her, that she was stoned by children on the road. Certainly her bird-like figure with wild white hair and a long black coat would perhaps frighten a child so much as to attack her. But he emphasised in his poem what a pitiful creature Nellie was, and indeed it was true’.
‘The Dispensary Doctor was Dr. McGrath from Athea, whose daughter Maighread is a local historian. He also attended in Ardagh. When the Dr. ewas called to the house then the patient was really ill and the neighbours gathered. The local hospital was in Croom and so the ambulance was called ‘The Croom Car’. At that time there were the usual epidemics of diphtheria, whooping cough, measles and TB was the real scourge, sometimes affecting several members of the family. I can well remember visiting two girls of my own age who died of TB in the County Home in Newcastle West. We used to visit two disabled sisters there, and some of our old neighbours. It was a gloomy place, like all institutions at the time. A nice old lady called Johanna McGrath continued with her crochet there. She was an amazing person, well able to follow intricate patterns in her house, without good light or glasses. Sometimes on a wet day we visited her at home, and she allowed us to wash her lustre jugs and willow patern dishes on her dresser. The old men in the Home liked to smoke their pipes in bed, but the nuns kept a strict watch. One man called John ‘Harness’ Dalton who had been a harness-maker had a great wit. When he told the nun she was a fine looking lady and that it was a wonder that she never married, she said she was married, married to God. ‘Well’ he said, ‘aren’t you the lucky woman’. On another occasion, an old patient had passed to his reward. ‘Tell me’, asked the nun, ‘what time did our good friend reach Heaven last night?’ ‘I couldn’t tell you what time he got there’ , he answered, ‘but he took off here at two’.
Una Mangan’s historical account provided, paints a vivid picture of the dire conditions during the Irish Famine and the subsequent years. It highlights the struggles of the people, the harsh measures imposed by landlords, and the desperate measures taken by those trying to survive. This period is marked by significant suffering and injustice, as exemplified by the actions of landlords like John Delmege. The narrative serves as a poignant reminder of the resilience of those who lived through such challenging times and the importance of preserving these stories for future generations.
Una Mangan’s mother was Catherine (Katie) Griffin, born April 1st, 1892 at Barneigue who married Martin Barry, a national school teacher, both of whom taught at Clounleharde national school. Martin was born on Jan 7th, 1898 at Skehanah, Clarecastle, Co. Clare, son of Patrick Barry & Winifred McMahon. Catherine Griffin Barry retired from teaching around 1961 and was immortalised in verse by the late Paddy Faley of Glenbawn. Martin retired a couple of years after her. Kate carried on the Connolly teaching tradition, her 1st, cousin once removed Margaret (Maggie) Connolly from Glenagragra was head mistress at Ballyguiltenane National school in her day and taught my late mother. Maggie was married to Bob Culhane, Ballyculhane, Glin.
Una Mangan’s grandmother was Mary Connolly, (daughter of Paddy Connolly & Margaret Culhane) born Nov 13th 1870 who on Jan 13th, 1889, aged 20 years, at Kilcolman church, married Patrick Griffin aged 25 years, an R.I.C. officer from Kilteely, Glin, son of Patrick Griffin a farmer, the witnesses being Ellen Connolly and a Mr. Daly.
Una Mangan’s great-grandmother was Margaret Culhane, born circa 1840, from Barneigue. Margaret died on Feb 5th 1936 aged 96 years, her grand-daughter Monica (Mona) Connolly present at her death. (Mona later married William Chawke, Clounleharde). Margaret Culhane was married to Paddy Connolly. (son of Patrick Connolly & Mary ?) B 1837 at Glenagragra, Athea and died Nov 11th 1899 at Barneigue aged 62 years, his son Michael present at his death. Paddy had moved east in the 1860’s, married and set up home in Barneigue.
Martin and Kathleen Barry were dedicated educators who taught for over 40 years at Clounleharde National School in County Limerick, Ireland. Their commitment to education left a lasting impact on the community.
During a school reunion held for past pupils, memories flowed as attendees gathered to celebrate their shared experiences. The event brought together 172 ex-pupils, some of whom traveled from various parts of Ireland, England, the United States, and even Malta. The reunion provided an opportunity for people to reconnect, reminisce, and appreciate the legacy of Clounleharde National School. The oldest past pupils in attendance were Pakie Geoghegan and Liam Enright, both of whom reside locally. The reunion also honored the contributions of Martin and Kathleen Barry, who had dedicated their lives to shaping young minds in the community. The event featured a reunion Mass, recollections, and a special booklet that traced the school’s history and captured the essence of school days over the decades1
THE KERRYMAN JUNE 3rd, 1950 http://www.irishnewspaperarchives.com