In the last edition of The Harp I reproduced
some short oral history interviews sent via email by Margaret Gilbert of Gorey
in Co. Wexford. The interviews were carried out by teachers and children from
Wexford schools in the 1930s, part of the ‘Schools Collection’ which was a
countrywide exercise carried out under the direction of the Department of Education
at that time. Even these short extracts, one about the Land League and one
about a local eviction, show us the importance of gathering stories from people
in their communities.
During the past few weeks I have carried out
some more research into the history of the county of Wexford and have been
amazed at the powerful way that social memory has been transmitted very
accurately in the area by word of mouth for many generations, in some instances
for over 200 years. History books tell us that Wexford was one of the main
areas of the 1798 Rebellion, an uprising led by Wolfe Tone and the United
Irishmen which affected large parts of Ireland but was probably most fiercely
experienced in Wexford.
The brutality of the 1798 Rebellion in
Wexford is comparable to some of the worst modern conflicts we see on the world
news today, though it is difficult to imagine such events taking place in the
tranquil rural surroundings of this beautiful Irish county, with its friendly market
towns and picturesque seaside villages. Yet thousands of poor Irish farmers
rose up against the oppressive tyranny of British rule and, fighting with long
picks against soldiers with guns, they took control of the whole county.
But the victory of the Wexford rebels was
short lived and retribution was swift and brutal. Rebels underwent such
tortures and punishments as ‘half-hangings’ and ‘pitch-capping’, the latter
meaning that a prisoner had hot pitch poured over his head and was then left in
a public place as it dried. Many were simply rounded-up and shot in the fields
and town squares. It has to be recognised that the atrocities occurred on both
sides and the local Protestant community of Wexford also became victims of the
violence. But as one digs deeper and discovers the full impact of this short
but awful period on the people of Wexford, it is hardly surprising that the echoes
of 1798 can still be heard today.
For the people of Wexford,
the events of the 1798 Rebellion have a similar importance in terms of local
heritage as the 1847 Hunger has in Connaught or the 1916 Easter Rising has in Dublin.
But whilst it seems that every village and town in Wexford has a monument to
the Rebellion and a local written account, what is more significant is the
stream of transmitted memory where local people of the older generation still
talk of local people and events as if they happened in their own lifetimes, not
200 years ago.
My correspondent Margaret
Gilbert, who is a local historian in Wexford, told me the seeds of some
stories, like the story of John Mellon from Monaseed who frequented the market
in Gorey in the late 1790s, using the opportunity to circulate information
about the whereabouts of the enemy. Margaret told me that John was shot at the
Battle of Ballyellis but nothing is written of him.
She suggested I telephoned a
gentleman named Aiden McDonald who is 85 years old and lives with his daughter
at the post office in Camolin. I duly called Mr McDonald who told me he was a
descendant of the John Melon in the eviction story we published last month and
also the John Melon of the 1798 Rebellion, the first man mentioned probably
being the grandson of the second. Mr McDonald told me:
“John Mellon, the man who
was threatened with eviction, was my great grandfather. He lived at
Monaseed near Gorey on a small farm. He was out in the Land League. He was
living on an estate that belonged to William Foster. The estate was divided up and they started to
evict all the tenants. The tenants at Monaseed were evicted and 5 farms built
on it.”
I asked Mr McDonald about
the man named John Mellon who was shot in the 1798 rebellion. He said that this
man used to go to the markets at Gorey where they sold pigs on Fayre Day. Mr
McDonald told me that John Mellon made mats to sell at the fayre. He said that
he learnt to make mats whilst in prison. It was at the fayres that he watched
the English landlords and picked up information. Mr McDonald spoke of his
ancestor John Melon almost as if he actually knew him, which I felt reinforced
the power of the storytelling tradition in rural Ireland – if the rich have
fine oil paintings by which to remember their ancestors, the poor have
constructed their portraits through the spoken word. I would wish to thank
Margaret Gilbert and Aiden McDonald for sharing these fascinating social
memories with us.
