A \ B \ C \ D \ E \ F \ G \ H \ I \ J \ K \ L \ M \ N \ O \ P \ R \ S \ T \ U \ V \ W \Z

The Tithe Proctor by William Carleton

W >> William Carleton >> The Tithe Proctor



THE TITHE-PROCTOR.

By William Carleton




PREFACE.


After the reader shall, have perused the annexed startling and
extraordinary narrative, on which I have founded the tale of the
Tithe-Proctor, I am sure he will admit that there is very little left
me to say in the shape of a preface. It is indeed rarely, that ever a
document, at once so authentic and powerful, has been found prefixed
to any work of modern Irish Fiction--proceeding as it does, let me add,
from the pen of a gentleman whose unassuming character and modesty are
only surpassed by the distinction which his name has already gained
in one of the most difficult but useful departments of our native
literature.

I trust that there will be found nothing in the work which follows that
is calculated to give any serious offence. Yet, when we look back upon
the contentions, both political and polemical, by which this unhappy
country in connection with tithe especially, has been so frequently and
so bitterly distracted, we can hardly hope, that any writer, however
anxious, nay studious, to avoid giving offence, can expect to treat such
a subject without incurring animosity in _some_ quarter. Be this as it
may, I have only to say, on behalf of myself, that in composing the
work I was influenced by nothing but a firm and honest determination to
depict the disturbances arising from the tithe impost with a fair and
impartial hand: and if any party shall feel hurt by observations which
the necessity of rendering full justice to a subject so difficult
have imposed upon me in the discharge of a public duty, I beg them
to consider that such observations proceeded from no wish to offend
existing prejudices, but are to be looked upon as arising inferentially
from those stern and uncompromising claims of truth and justice, which
equally disregard the prejudices of any and every party. After all, I am
of opinion that the spirit in which the work is written will be found,
whilst it correctly delineates the state and condition of the country
during the fearful tumults and massacres of the Tithe Rebellion, to have
left little, if anything, to be complained of in this respect.

In constructing narratives of this sort, it is to be understood that
certain allowances are always made for small anachronisms that cannot be
readily got over. The murder of the Bolands, for instance, occurred in
the year 1808, and the massacre of Carrickshock, as it has been called,
in 1832. It was consequently impossible for me to have availed myself of
the annexed "Narrative" and brought in the "Massacre" in the same story,
without bringing down the murder of the Bolands to a more recent date.

It may be objected that I have assumed, as the period of my story, one
which was calculated to bring into light and action the worst feelings
and the darkest criminals of my country. This, however, was not my
fault. If they had not existed, I could not have painted them; and so
long as my country is disgraced by great crimes, and her social state
disorganized by men whoso hardened vices bring shame upon civilization
itself, so long, I add, these crimes and such criminals shall never be
veiled over by me. I endeavor to paint Ireland, sometimes as she was,
but always as she is, in order that she may see many of those debasing
circumstances which prevent her from being what she ought to be. In the
meantime, I trust the reader will have an opportunity of perceiving
that I have not in the _Tithe-Proctor_, any more than in my other work,
forgotten to show him that even in the most startling phases of
Irish crime and tumult, I have by no means neglected to draw the warm,
generous, and natural virtues of my countrymen, and to satisfy him that
a very few guilty wretches are quite sufficient, however unjustly, to
blacken and degrade a large district.

There is, however, a certain class of pseudo-patriots in this country,
who are of opinion that every writer, professing to depict our national
character and manners, should make it a point of conscience to suppress
all that is calculated "to lessen us in the eyes of the world," as they
are pleased to term it, and only to give to the public the bright and
favorable side. It is unnecessary to dwell upon the moral dishonesty
and meanness of a principle, at once so disgraceful to literature and so
repugnant to truth. These thin-skinned gentlemen are of opinion that the
crime itself is a matter of trivial importance compared to the fact of
its becoming known, and that provided the outside of the platter is kept
clean, it matters not how filthy it may be within.

In the days of my boyhood and early life, the people of Ireland were,
generally speaking, an honest, candid, faithful, and grateful people,
who loved truth, and felt the practical influence of religious feeling
strongly, but so dishonest and degrading has been the long curse of
agitation, to which forms of it their moral and social principles have
been exposed, that there probably could not be found in any country,
an instance in which the virtues of the whole people have been so
completely debauched and contaminated (I do not say voluntarily), as
those of the Irish have been by the leading advocates of repeal. The
degeneracy of character, occasioned by those tampering with our national
virtues, is such as we shall not recover from these thirty years to
come. Many of our best, mellow-toned, old virtues, that pass in an
unbroken link of hereditary beauty from father to son, and from family
to family, like some sacred and inestimable heirloom, at once reverenced
and loved, are all gone--such as our love of truth, our simple devotion
and patriarchal piety, our sincerity in all social intercourse, and
others of the same stamp; whilst little else is left us but a barren
catalogue of broken and dishonest promises, and the consciousness of
having been at once fleeced and laughed at. And it would be well if we
could stop here, but truth forces us onward. The Irishman of the present
day--the creature of agitation--is neither honest, nor candid, nor
manly, nor generous, but a poor, skulking dupe, at once slavish
and insolent, offensive and cowardly--who carries, as a necessary
consequence, the principles of political dishonesty into the practices
of private life, and is consequently disingenuous and fraudulent.

Let me not be misunderstood. I love truth; and have never been either
afraid or ashamed to speak it; and I trust I never shall. I now allude
to the principles of Conciliation Hall, and the system by which they
were led. I feel bound, however, to exempt the party called Young
Irelanders from having had any participation in bringing about results
so disastrous to the best moral interests of the country. It is true,
that, as politicians, they were insane; but then they were at least
sincere and honest; and I am satisfied that there is not a man of them,
who would not have abandoned the object he had in view, sooner than
accomplish it by sacrificing the popular virtues and moral character
of the country for its attainment. I have myself been a, strong
anti-repealer during my whole life, and though some of the Young
Irelanders are my personal friends, yet none know better than they
do, that I was strenuously opposed to their principles, and have often
endeavored--need I say unsuccessfully?--to dissuade them from the
madness of their agitation.

Having made these few necessary observations, I now beg to introduce to
my readers the extraordinary narrative already spoken of--a narrative
whose force and graphic power will serve only to bring shame upon the
feeble superstructure which I have endeavored to erect upon it. It is
termed--


THE MURDER OF THE BOLANDS.

In the year 1808, there lived near Croom, in the county of Limerick, a
farmer named Michael Boland. He was an intelligent and prosperous
man, and the owner of many hundred acres of the best land in that fine
county.

He had two sons and two daughters, all grown up to manhood and
womanhood, in this year, and the parish chapel never saw, in their time,
a finer family for stature, symmetry, and comeliness, attend its mass
than Michael Boland, his wife, and children. With the growth of his
family, his ambition and desire of increased wealthiness grew; and,
by the agency of some hundred pounds, he became the tithe-proctor, or
rector of several patches of tithes throughout the county.

At first he was successful in this speculation, and with his increased
profits, himself and his children assumed a higher and more important
tone and bearing in society. In fact, his sons and daughters passed as
ladies and gentlemen, not only in external appearance, but in elegance
of manners and cultivation of mind; for he spared no expense on their
education, as well in his original as in his subsequent condition of
life; besides that at this period, and for a long time previous, the
County of Limerick was the great school-house, not only of Munster, but
of all Ireland--vide Carleton's "Poor Scholar."

The sudden departure of the Bolands from the intercourse and intimate
acquaintance of their former companions and neighbors, as well as the
long brooding hatred and opposition of the people to the payment of
tithes, soon gave rise to loud murmurs and sarcastic retrospective
observations against them; and people far and near took every occasion
to offend and insult them--both men and women---wherever and whenever
an opportunity of doing so, in a galling manner, offered. Often were
the Misses Boland asked, when mounted on their side-saddles, did they
remember when their mother used to be driving her cart-load of tankards
of sour milk to the market of Limerick, and sitting there for days
retailing it at a penny a gallon, &c.; and as often were the young
brothers asked when bursting over an old neighbor's fence, in scarlet
and buckskin, if they remembered when their father and mother bore an
active hand and shoulder to the carving out and spreading of the manure
to the fields, &c.

Far from being abashed at all this, the Bolands only sought ampler
opportunities to annoy and exasperate their ill-wishers by more
imperious airs to them, and a closer attendance to the gentlemanly
sports of the country, but still they gave no tangible cause to quarrel
broadly with them. While matters were going on in this way, they
received a nocturnal anonymous letter, ordering them to send a few of
their abundant stock of arms to a certain lonely place, for the benefit,
of the popular legislators of that turbulent county. This summons the
Bolands answered by a letter of defiance, and a challenge to the parties
to come and take them forcibly if they durst. They were agan summoned
for their arms, and cautioned to lower their demand for tithes. To this
they sent an exasperating response of defiance, and a challenge, after
which they seriously went about fortifying their dwelling, and putting
it into the best posture of defence against the assault which they were
very certain would be made on them sooner or later.

They built a line of lofty strong stone walls around their house,
offices, and other property, and, thus secure, they awaited anxiously
the expected visit of their deadly enemies.

In the meantime the messengers of vengeance passed through all the
counties of Munster, with an account of the rebellious designs of the
Bolands, against the majesty of midnight legislation; and to collect
levies of men, ammunition, army, and friends, for the purpose of making
a certain destructive attack upon them.

One evening, about the latter end of November, the roads and paths
leading to the little village of Kilteely, a few miles to the east of
Boland's house, was observed to be more than usually thronged with men,
on foot and on horseback, passing, as it were, to and from Limerick, and
strangers, apparently, to all the inhabitants and to each other. Shortly
after nightfall, the hill of Kilteely was seen covered with men and
horses, and within an old ruined house on the top of the hill a
dim light was seen to occasionally flitter. This ruin was full of
respectably dressed men, and at one end of it, on chairs, and at a
table, provided for the occasion, sat twelve of the most respectable of
them, and a portly important-looking gentleman on an elevated chair at
the end of the table. Two or three candies were burning, and some slips
of paper were on the table.

After a silence of a few seconds, the judge asked, in an audible voice,
if there was any business to be brought before the court on that night?
He was immediately answered in a solemn tone, by more than one voice,
that there was a great deal of business, but that only one case, that
of Captain Right against Boland, should be brought before him at
that present time. The judge then desired that the case be gone into.
Whereupon a middle-sized well-set young man, about six-and-twenty years
of age, whose name we know, and who sat behind the judge, now brought
his chair forward to the table, on the judge's left hand, and unrolling
a roll of paper, read in a low, solemn, but audible tone of voice, a
series of charges preferred by the said Captain Right against the said
Michael Boland and his sons.

The captain was then called up, and he deposed to different charges
against the defendants--such as taking beforehand, or in reversion,
several small farms over the heads of poor but solvent tenants, turning
them adrift on the world, and converting their small agricultural farms
into one or more large farms for grazing; thereby adding to the
number of the destitute, and contracting the supply of agricultural
produce--the payment to his laboring men of only eight-pence a day,
which he compounded for in kind--potatoes, milk, &c, at twice, at least,
what those commodities fetched him in the neighboring markets. These
were only a few of the many charges of petty tyranny preferred against
Boland; but the last and greatest of all was his Tithe Exactions.

Several witnesses were called up to prove these weighty offences, after
which it was asked if the accused party had been served with notices to
desist from those high misdemeanors; and if he had engaged any one to
speak for him, or in his favor. After a short pause, a man above the
middle size, with snaggy hair and beard, and of a sinister aspect, came
up to the table and said, that although he had not been employed or
deputed to appear for Mr. Boland and the young masters and misses, his
fine sons and daughters, yet justice to the accused compelled him to
come forward, and offer a few words in extenuation of the punishment,
if any, which should be inflicted for their alleged misdeeds. "First,
then," he asked, "was it possible that they, the men then present,
should be angry or offended at seeing one of their own race and religion
spring up from among them, and take his station with the best of the
Cromwellian Shoneens that surrounded and oppressed them? And when he did
so spring up, was it any blame to him to avail himself of every means
which The Law allowed him to maintain his elevation, though it might be
by standing on the shoulders and necks of as good fellows as himself?
What had Mr. Boland done but what others had been doing for ages, and
were doing still? As for the matter of tithes, sure they should be paid
to the minister who they never saw nor cared to see, and if Mr. Boland
had profit on them, so much the better, because the less tithe that went
into the absent minister's pocket the more would they all be pleased. To
be sure the tithe-proctor always exacted to the last farthing, and more
than the minister--and it is believed that Mr. Boland was not behind any
of the trade--and some people say, indeed, that, from his knowledge of
farming and the ins and outs of people's little tillage, he sometimes
exacted to within a trifle of one-fifth of the produce. Indeed, in my
own case--and I am but a poor brogue-maker, with half-a-dozen acres of
the |poorest lands of F------, he took from me, between citations to
the Bishop's Court and other costs, with the original tithes, at least
one-fourth of the entire produce of my little farm; nor do I know any
one in the parish that fares better than myself, especially the poor
people who don't understand the law, and who are not able, or willing,
to get into it. However, I confess, I never regretted my own share of
the loss, where I knew and thought that it all went to the glory and
grandeur of the Masters and Misses Boland. Nor shall I ever forget the
cutting-up which young Mick Boland gave me, with the butt-end of his
loaded whip, the day I went to their house to complain that their driver
had put all my sheep into the pound, for a debt of sixteen shillings,
tithe-money. And now, my Lord Justice, as I have said so much of the
truth in favor of Mr. Boland and his family, I hope your lordship will
pass a merciful and just sentence oh them, and that this just jury won't
find these friends to us, to our religion, and to our country, guilty."

There was a suppressed murmur of approbation, accompanied by an audible
stamping of feet, at the conclusion of this merciful harangue. But
silence being called, the jurors put their heads together across
the table, and in less than two minutes their foreman handed up the
issue-paper to the secretary, who sat by the side of the judge on
receipt of which that functionary arose and in a solemn, scarcely
audible voice, read from the paper a verdict of "guilty" against Michael
Boland and his two sons. The judge then immediately arose from his
chair, and in a low, solemn, but firm and distinct tone of voice,
pronounced the verdict of the court to be, "Death and Dark Destruction
to Michael Boland and his two sons," and that the sentence should be
executed that very night. On the announcement of the verdict a low
shriek of exultation arose from the audience, followed by a simultaneous
half-suppressed cry of, "Long life to our Judge! Long life to Buck
English!"

The judge stood up again and said: "Now, boys, I know that there is no
man here present but a man who has been often well tried in exploits of
danger and of death: every man of you is the leader of a party of brave
fellows, who, with yourselves, have sworn to sustain the oppressed;
crush the tyrant, and right the wronged. Your men are brave, bold, and
hearty; keep them to: their duty, and in perfect submission to your
orders. Let the old tyrant and his young cubs be cut off, at all
hazards, but spare the women--nay, make every possible exertion to save
them, but, more especially, and by all means, let the eldest daughter,
Miss Anna, be saved, secured, and brought to me, as you all know how
long I have vainly endeavored to make her mine. And now, boys, every man
to his post, and I, your commander, shall lead you on."

Buck English is a real character--his real name was Ryan, and he
had been respectably reared, but gave himself up to the intoxicating
excitement of the French Revolution--he also fought in '98, and
subsequently, for his intelligence and daring spirit, became the leader
of all the lawless and disaffected parties in his native County of
Limerick, and, indeed, of all Munster.

The parties within the old ruin now made their appearance on the hill,
and every man of them going to the head of his own body, they marched
first to Hospital, a contiguous village, where they boldly beat a drum,
the sound of which called up, as by enchantment, such a concourse of
armed men as frightened the parties themselves. They marched from that,
westwards, to Knockany, where they dug up several extensive fields
(of grass) belonging to Mr. O'Grady. They marched on then, in the
same direction, towards the residence of the Bolands, their numbers
increasing as they went along, by voluntary and involuntary parties.

The Bolands, ever on the watch, soon learned that they were to be
visited that night by those parties whom they had so long defied, but
they never calculated that they Should be attacked by such a strong
force as they now learned was approaching them--for it is believed
that the actual number could not have been less than five thousand men,
contributed by the Counties of Limerick Clare, Kerry, Cork, Waterford,
Tipperary, and Kilkenny.

However, they were not daunted, but immediately put themselves in order
of battle. They first sent out (off their premises) all their servants,
men and women, lest there should be a spy or a traitor among them. They
then carried up all their arms and ammunition to the top floor of their
(two-story, long, thatched) house. The father and the younger sons
planted themselves at one of the window's facing the front. The elder
son and the family tutor, a young man of the neighborhood, who would
not abandon them in their hour of danger, took their stand at the
window which looked directly at the narrow strong door of the wall which
inclosed the house. The two daughters, with their mother, took up their
places between the two windows, under cover of the wall, and having been
well practiced for som, weeks previous, stood prepared to load and hand
up the arms to their heroes when the occasion should arrive. About the
hour of one o'clock in the morning, the barking of dogs, and an odd
random shot, gave the Bolands certain and unmistakable notice that their
hour of terror was at hand. And soon they could hear a monotonous sound
of moving feet and suppressed voices, under the outer walls of their
fortress. A horn was then sounded, and the besieged were called upon to
open their gates and surrender at discretion. But no answer was received
from within, where all was total darkness and apparent inactivity.
Several attempts were now made to burst the strong yard door, but
without effect. The assailants then began to fire at the thatch of
the dwelling house, as well as on the out-offices, with the intent of
setting them in flames; and after several attempts, they ultimately
succeeded in igniting the thatch of a detached cow-house, which stood
out from the other buildings, and the wind, unfortunately happening to
blow from that quarter to the other offices, carried the fire to them,
by which they were soon in a blaze. In the meantime, they procured two
sledges from a neighboring forge, with which they assaulted the yard
door, which they soon broke in. Now there was a dead pause on the
part of the assailants--for they knew very well, that to pass on the
threshold of this door was certain death. However, the pressure from the
rear was so great, that suddenly several men were involuntarily pushed
in through the doorway. And now the work of death commenced, for no
sooner had the first batch been pressed in, than there was such
a well-directed shower of bullets poured out on them from four
well-charged blunderbusses, as levelled every man of them with the
earth. A moment's pause ensued, and the door was again filled with new
aspirants for "fame in the cannon's mouth," who, however, fared as badly
as the preceding batch. During this time the assailing party had been
busy with crowbars and other instruments, in making several breaches in
the yard walls. At length they succeeded in opening entrances in three
different places at the same time, and thus in a few minutes several
hundred men were precipitated into the yard. And now commenced the work
of death in earnest. The assailants were shot down in scores, while the
upper windows of the house, from which the deadly firing was so ably
kept up, received fifty discharges to the one that issued from them. The
house was immediately surrounded, and guards of chosen faithful men were
placed at its doors and lower windows, with strict orders to let no one,
especially the "old fox," escape, with the exception only of the women.

To add to the dreadful condition of the Bolands, the assailants had
now succeeded in igniting the thatch of the dwelling-house, and it was
immediately in a blaze. The Bolands and their tutor, ably served by
their mother and sisters, still continued to deal death and destruction
on the parties outside, without being yet fatigued or disabled. But at
length the upper floor became too hot, and the old man, with his wife
and daughters, retreated to the lower floor. The brothers and the tutor,
however, remained above, but doing less execution, because, when the
assailants saw the house on fire, they retreated outside the yard wall,
excepting the guard who were placed round the house, and these stood so
close to the walls that the party above had not power of injuring them,
without fully exposing their own persons at the windows.

While both parties were thus in a fearful state of suspense, the burning
roof of the house fell in on the three young men above, and immediately
buried them for ever in its destructive flames. The assailing crowds set
up a terrific shout of triumph. The floor above now began to crackle,
and so dense was the smoke below, that the old man and the woman were
in a state little short of suffocation. At last the Proctor became
desperate, and opening one of the ground windows, and taking his poor
wife by the hand, he attempted to throw himself and her out through it.
No sooner, however, had they appeared at the window, than the old man
was riddled with bullets from without, and thrown back into the now
blazing room from which he had been endeavoring to escape.

Copyright (c) 2007. bestextbooks.com. All rights reserved.

Beatrix Potter - "The Tale of Timmy Tiptoes"

Rudyard Kipling - "Songs from Books"

Various - "Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. XII, No. 28. July, 1873."

Meredith Nicholson - "A Hoosier Chronicle"