Remembering the lives lost 190 years ago in Gortroe

She tried her best to persuade them not to go but they were determined.

“But my boys ‘tis a danger to life and limb, ye saw the soldiers around during the week, with swords and guns and horses, I want no harm to befall ye and yere father in heaven above with these years gone by”.

John and Michael Collins were eating their supper at the table with their widowed mother in their small thatched house at Hightown.

It was the evening of Wednesday, December 17 in the year 1834.

Since the death of their father, the brothers had farmed their small holding, their mother helped them around the haggard with feeding poultry and young stock.

From the well, she drew the water and she cooked, sewed, mended and kept the open fire lighting.

She was, by all accounts, a grámhar woman with an open door and welcome on the mat for neighbour and stranger.

Like so many Catholic farming families all over Ireland in the 1830s, the Collins household struggled to eke a living from the land.

One of the tough regulations that caused much hardship to Irish Catholics was their obligation to pay titles to the Established (Protestant) Church.

Under this law everyone had to contribute one-tenth of their produce to the local Protestant clergymen.

If a farmer had ten stacks of corn in his haggard in the autumn, one had to go to the local Rector or pastor. If somebody had twenty drills or ridges of potatoes, two had to be handed over.

It was a most unfair and unjust regime whereby people had to support a clergy that they had no truck with.

It was the law however and the force of the British Government and its Militias, Dragoons and soldiers were readily available to help with the collection of the produce where it wasn’t handed over voluntarily.

In 1832 new legislation was passed whereby instead of handing over grain, potatoes or turnips, cash could be given. Depending then on the size of the farm and the enterprise, a set amount of money was ‘levied’ off each farm.

The following year, 1833, the ‘Vestry Cess’ was abolished – this was a tax on Catholics levied for the repair of Protestant Churches. This was but a little concession to the majority population.

Farming in Ireland in the 1830s was tough. It was really subsistence farming. If a family could produce enough food to eat for themselves and something to sell to make the rent they’d be doing well and that’s how the Widow Collins and her sons John and Michael ‘existed’.

To have to pay a further tax for the upkeep and maintenance of an ‘alien clergy’ was hard and bound to cause resentment.

In 1829 Catholic Emancipation became a reality and for the first time in over a century and a quarter, the native Irish populace began to throw off the shackles of oppression.

Between 1831 and 1835 what was called “The Tithe War” was fought. It wasn’t a ‘war’ in the real sense of the word, more a series of skirmishes, attacks and counter attacks. Generally what happened was that individual farmers decided to take a stand and refused to pay the tithes that were due. The local clergyman then, usually backed up by military force, would come and try to collect his ‘dues’. If the actual cash was not forthcoming, they had the power to seize crops or stock in lieu of the monetary value of the tithe.

As they ate their frugal meal that Wednesday evening the Widow spoke of seeing the local Parson, Archdeacon William Ryder on the rampage all over the parish of Gortroe (Bartlemy) over recent days.

Ryder was determined to collect ‘arrears’ in the Tithe Tax due to him.

He had got military and cavalry back-up from Fermoy.

Where actual cash was not forthcoming Ryder and his forces simply seized stacks of hay or straw or livestock in lieu.

The Widow Collins’ sense of unease and foreboding was due to an imminent happening in the parish.

Earlier that very evening a hunting horn was sounded all around the parish. This was a pre-arranged signal and rallying call for locals to gather the following morning as another ‘Tithe raid’ was due.

It was known that another Widow, Johannah Ryan of Ballinakilla was refusing to pay the £4. 16 shillings ‘owed’ to Ryder and Recd. Colles.

It was known the Archdeacon was going to the Ryan farmstead on the next morning- December 18.

The horn-blowing was a rallying call to offer passive resistance to the Tithe collectors.

The Collins brothers were determined to stand with their neighbours and friends in resisting this most unjust system of taxation.

Naturally, their mother was fearful for their safety. ‘Have no fear mother” said John “we’ll have plenty help and we have two fine ash plants to use!”

Michael laughed “Yes, we got them for faction fight at Bartlemy Fair in September- we were with the Carawats and when the Shanavests saw us they went home -and ‘twill be the same tomorrow”.

Their seeming fearlessness didn’t lessen their mother’s sense of foreboding but she still blessed them with Holy Well water the following morning as they set off across the fields for the Ryan farm.

At midday, the widow Collins would have heard the Angelus bell ring out from the chapel in Bartlemy Village.

Shortly after that shots rang out at the Ryan farm in Ballinakilla.

After a ‘stand-off’ between the locals who defended the farmyard and boreen and the military force of 120 men the order to ‘fire’ was given.

The hail of lead was repeated again with a dreadful outcome. Over 40 men were hit from the musket barrage.

Within minutes the yard of the Widow Ryan ran red with blood. Nine men lay dead- many shot in the back, three more were to die in the next few days.

Witnesses said after the tumult, confusion and conflict of the morning, a deathly silence enveloped the scene.

The wails of the dying and the anguished sobbing of those trying in vain to help them were the only sounds that were heard on the December air.

Amongst the dead were John and Michael Collins.

The ‘Southern Reporter’ carried an account of the affray.

Amongst the dead are “John Collins, the son of a struggling widow, Michael Collins, brother of John -they died in each other’s arms, each forgiving his enemies; they were the sole support of an aged parent and were respectable farmers”.

The Widow Ryan’s own son Richard was also amongst the slain.

We cannot even imagine the unspeakable grief, heartbreak and despair that came upon Widow Collins when an account of the murders came to her that December afternoon.

The Collins brothers were buried with their father in Templecurraheen cemetery near Carrigtwohill and presumably, when their aged mother passed away she too was interred there.

It was in 1984 that a Monument to those killed in 1834 was erected at Bluebell Cross.

After that unveiling, wreaths were taken to the cemeteries where tradition said the twelve slain were buried.

The actual grave of the Collins family was not known so the wreath was placed inside the gate at Templecurraheen.

Now thanks to the outstanding work of local man Michael Finn, the Collins headstone has been located.

Next week the name of John and Michael Collins will be inscribed on the stone-190 years after their deaths in ‘the gap of Gortroe’. On next Wednesday, December 18, the 190th Anniversary of the Battle of Gortroe will be commemorated at the Monument. At 11.45am a wreath will be laid, a poem recited and prayers offered for the twelve men who lost their lives in a struggle against injustice.