In 2018, while visiting Kilworth, Ireland, the area from where my ancestors emigrated, I discovered that the Peter Robinson experiment/scheme of 1825 appeared to be completely unknown to those living there now. When I inquired about meeting with the priest at the local church to pursue my research by perhaps checking for church records he told me that he was too busy which meant that I was not able to confirm how much, if any, information is available through that avenue. However, his reply did leave a lingering impression of dismay, and perhaps it explains partially why local history hasn’t been passed down through the generations. Eventually, I could only find one person who knew about the historic event, and his name is Dr. Pat O’Connor.
I clearly recall that it was on a sunny day in May when my host and I made a sudden appearance at the O’Connor’s doorstep and received a warm welcome. During that visit, Pat generously shared the research and writing that he has completed about the Irish emigration in 1825 under the direction of Peter Robinson. Recently, Pat sent me an article/essay that he has written about the Carey’s Lodge Murders of 1798. Dr. O’Connor ‘s detailed writing about that event provides additional documentation of the extreme social and political unrest in Ireland which precipitated the emigration of thousands from the country twenty-five years later.
With Dr. O’Connor’s permission, I am posting his article on my website.
The Carey’s Lodge Murders
On a February night in 1798 a group of Araglen United Irishmen came to wreak vengeance on a hated landlord
With nightcap in hand, Jasper Uniacke escorted Colonel St. George Mansergh upstairs to his bed. It was Friday, February 9th 1798 and the Colonel had dined with Jasper and his wife at Carey’s Lodge, their home in Coolmoohan, Araglen. They probably felt honoured to host the Colonel for he was the landlord and Jasper was his agent. This meant that he collected Mansergh’s rents and managed the tenancies. His master owned what the Bath Chronicle and Weekly Gazette of 1st March 1798 described as ‘ a considerable estate in Ireland, which lies mostly in the Glyns of Araglen’. Uniacke would have been happy to see to it that his tenants’ paid up, and crucially on time, for he himself received substantial payment for his troubles, and coming with his job was a neat farm and an attractive two-storey slated house complete with chimney. While a chimney had become a common feature in the houses of the well off at that time, only the better cabins of tenants had such a convenience. As for that meal, it is likely that it would have been a good one such as the better inns supplied: a menu from the time features roast goose, old ale, claret and brandy, with tea and hot cakes afterwards. This was the fare that Mansergh was accustomed to, and a meal such as this too had been served up to him earlier in the day when, as the Kentish Gazette of 23rd February 1798 reported, he dined with Stephen Moore, 2nd Earl Mount Cashell, at the Great House in Kilworth inside the tall walls of his Moore Park demesne.
Uniacke, with candle in hand, had led Mansergh upstairs at some time between ten and eleven ‘to show him his bedchamber,’ said Mrs Uniacke at the murder trial when she in the parlour below heard a loud bang on the front door. It burst open just as her servant, Michael Power, moved to open it and thirty men or so rushed in. The papers reported that the group was alleged to include Thomas, Michael and John Hickey, Thomas Donoghue and John Hoye. What followed was a double murder that would feature in newspapers all over Ireland and England.
The background: repression, poverty and retaliation
Why would a crowd of some thirty men force their way into a house and threaten the occupants? The answer is, simply, that an iniquitous land system together coupled with oppressive penal laws had reduced Catholics to a level of abject poverty that led them to rebel against it. Going back to Queen Elizabeth in the 16th century, her armies had conquered Ireland and here in Kilworth most of the Catholic Condon lands had passed into the hands of English planters. Cromwell continued the land grab, and finally William of Orange and his backers finished the appropriation of Catholic Irish lands. A privileged minority of the established Anglican Church- the Ascendancy as they were called - were now entrenched in the ownership of not only the lands but also the professions and the more lucrative branches of trade. It is notable that at the time of the Carey’s Lodge incident some five thousand Protestant landlords held ownership of nearly the whole of Ireland, this at a time when the population was about four million.
Something had to give and from the 1750s the ‘Whiteboys’ and other disaffected movements were in virtual rebellion. Centred in an area embracing south Tipperary, north and east Cork and west Waterford, these groups of young men often adorned in white smocks were running riot - and particularly so around in the areas around Kilworth, Glanworth, Rathcormac and Tallow. Their activities took the form of threatening letters, often signed by a mysterious ‘John Doe’, and a demand for the lowering of rents together with an end to the detested tithes imposed for the upkeep of Protestant clergy. All this struck terror in the hearts of landlords, especially those who lived in isolated areas like Araglen. Their houses were burned and their cattle run off their lands or savagely maimed - the dreaded ‘houghing’. There were widespread physical attacks on landlords too, and favourite punishment of a particularly hated individual was the lopping off of his ears or noses! To add to the tensions, France was at war with England since 1793 and only a major storm in Bantry Bay in 1796 prevented a French invasion fleet from landing troops in support of the secret United Irishman organisation that planned liberty and equality for all Irishmen and women.
The country was in turmoil, and the landed class was retaliating savagely. Supported by dragoons from Fermoy and by paramilitary groups of Protestant gentry - and by Lord Mountcashel’s Yeomanry - they were meting out their version of rough justice on a widespread scale. It was well known that the rural Kilworth and Araglen area was a fertile ground for United Irish recruiters and the court record shows that those who paid their visit to Carey’s lodge on that fateful night were United Irishmen, all pledged to break the hold of a despised landlord.
Colonel Richard St George Mansergh
Colonel Richard St George Mansergh was born into a wealthy landowning Cork/ Galway family in 1752. As a young man he had inherited thousands of acres in Galway, Limerick, Roscommon, Laois and Cork. These lands had come his parents’ way from ancestors who had benefited from the Cromwellian confiscations. On his father’s side, a James Mansergh, had been captain in Cromwell’s cavalry and it was he who in 1657 was granted the Cork lands, in Macroney, Kilworth, and it was he who placed that Mansergh coat of arms over the door of his Macroney Castle, former home of the late Harry and Audrey Hamilton. The Colonel’s mother was a St George and this led to the addition of St George to the name.
Especially highly educated for the time, St George was a BA graduate of Trinity college, Cambridge, a qualified lawyer and a talented artist. Choosing a career in the army, he bought a commission and in 1776 was posted across the Atlantic to fight in America’s war of independence. Sustaining a severe head wound in battle, he had endured a procedure called trepanation, in which a section of his skull was removed and replaced with a silver plate. As a result, for the rest of his life he was to suffer crippling headaches and disturbing mood swings. His condition was only partly relieved by a regular dosage of laudanum (opium) and it is likely that this affliction directly contributed to a haunted and melancholic temperament that severely taxed his powers of tolerance. As a protection from the cold when the pain was at its worst, he wore a protective silk cap to cover the sliver plate and this he donned for the rest of his days. In addition, he constantly wore a black robe too as a sign of his misery (see accompanying picture from c. 1795 featuring the head covering).
With the help of agents such as Jasper Uniacke he divided his time between his Cork and Galway estates, and to give him some credit it is worth highlighting that at one stage he published a document detailing a high level of unease concerning the lamentable conditions suffered by the impoverished peasantry. Sadly, however, he never translated his admirable feelings for his fellow man into practical action around Kilworth and Araglen!
He was also a magistrate for the North Cork/ South Tipperary district - the only one, given a marked reluctance of colleagues to accept this dangerous position - and in the discharge of his judicial duties he was well exposed to the fear, verging on paranoia, shared by his fellow landed gentry. Rebellion and all its implications for security was the talking point in every mansion and this, incidentally, led to a confidential letter that he despatched to the authorities in Dublin Castle expressing great alarm. In this he related of gentleman acquaintance living less than a quarter of a mile from Macroney Castle encountering some men ‘cutting down fifty of his trees in daylight view of his house’. These were ash saplings being cut for fashioning into pike handles for the impending rebellion.
Events leading up to the Carey’s lodge incident
It is interesting to examine the newspapers of the time to see what was the message presented to the gentry (and of course it was only the landed or professional class who read or indeed could read the papers at this time). The prominent story almost in every edition was that of the growing danger insurrection, and various reports of arrests of blacksmiths for the making of pikes. The Hibernian Chronicle of 26 February 1798 talked about Mansergh once burning a house ‘where he was informed meetings of those people called United Irishmen was held’. He had declared ‘publicky’ that with the assistance of the Militia and the Yeomanry ‘he would burn and demolish every house in the Glins, and that he would first begin with his own tenantry’. The report added that while he proved to be ‘very active’ he was not so foolish, usually, to go without a personal escort, and this was composed of a ‘Sergeant … with a Sword, Blunderbuss, and a case of Pistols’ together with some soldiers.
On the days of his killing, with his usual bodyguard he travelled out early in the day ‘to those Glins’ to view what damage was being done in his woods. On his way he encountered a number of people - mostly his own tenants - in one of his fields and he declared to them that his intention was to burn them out. At some stage he added, foolishly, that he would be at Jasper Uniacke’s on that night - without his escort!! Was this an act of bravado? It certainly gave substance to an opinion expressed in The Hibernian Chronicle of 26 February 1798 that ‘his conduct was in a great measure marked with foolhardiness’. The scene now was set and the tenants consider what they should do. Mansergh had in fact signed his own death warrant.
The scene at Carey’s Lodge
We learn from Mrs Uniacke’s evidence at the murder trial in the County Court in Cork that while she sat in her parlour with her thirteen-year old son beside her and another child at her breast the ‘banditti’ rushed in and charged up the stairs. One was ‘brandishing a pistol and another held a candle to light the way. Encountering her husband startled by the commotion, one group ‘stunned him with several blows’ and dragged him down the stairs while others attended to Mansergh. She claimed that her entreaties to spare her husband - ‘the best of fathers and of husbands’ - were met with ‘a strike of the pistol’ to the side of her head ‘which covered her in blood. Jasper Uniacke was thrown down the stairs and ‘stunned with several blows’. The Bath Chronicle reported that his skull was fractured and that ‘two wretches’ then seized her husband by the legs while four others ‘stabbed him in various parts’. Her response was to throw herself on the body of her husband in a vain hope to protect him.
In the meantime the other group had been dealing with Mansergh. They ‘dragged down the mangled body … and threw it upon her and her infant as they lay stretched upon the dead body’ of her husband said Mrs Uniacke at the trial. A further detail supplied was that the Colonel had been stabbed with a rusty scythe and that his skull too ‘had been fractured ‘by repeated blows’.
At this the intruders departed, perhaps surprised that neither Uniacke not Mansergh had been armed. This had meant that neither man was in a position to make anything more that a token level of resistance. Significantly, the newspapers stated that fact were no arms in the house would be bewildering but here in fact was confirmation of Mansergh’s reputed bravado and foolhardiness. At this point a horror-stricken Mrs Uniacke who had dragged herself and her infant to a bedroom upstairs beseeched her ‘terrified’ servant girl Catherine Finn - one paper says ‘Flynn’ was her surname -, ‘to go down and look after her master.’ She did so and returned, confirming that the worst had happened: both men were dead.
FRIDAY
The arrests/ roundup of suspects
While the avoidance of false arrest would be a primary consideration for Gardaí today, this would not have been of the same importance to the security forces of the late eighteenth century. And, so, within days the Fermoy Cavalry had apprehended ‘a great number of suspects’ who the said newspapers ‘were concerned in the murders’. Those arrested and lodged in the barrack in Fermoy were Timothy Hickey, John Hoy, John Hickey, Michael Hickey and Thomas Donoghue (spelt ‘Donnahue’), and Uniacke’s serving boy Michael Power.
Reflecting the horror felt by the landed gentry, we find a notice in the Cork Chronicle of 15th February declaring that ‘the magistrates and gentlemen’ of Kilworth and surrounding parishes had met in the village to express outrage at the killings. Further, they pledged to each other that they would ‘exert ourselves as far as possible’ to bring the perpetrators of there ‘horrid murders to justice’.
At Fermoy barrack an identity parade of some kind was organised and a disturbed and fainting Mrs Uniacke identified two men, numbers six and eleven, John Hickey and John Hoy. (The newspapers carry no reference to the fate of the other suspects.) An escort of the 89th regiment under John Hyde, Esq, conveyed forthwith the accused to Cork’ and ‘safely lodged them in our County Gaol, to abide their trials for this shocking outrage’.
The trial
On April 14 1798 ‘at the early hour this day’ the trial opened at the County Court in Cork with the two men in the dock (Reporting on the proceedings. The Hampshire Chronicle spoke of a courtroom ‘crowded in every part’ for this ‘heart-rending’ trial. The first witness was Mrs Uniacke who immediately on taking the stand ‘fainted, and became totally insensible’. With the support of relations and a sympathetic court, she gained her self control and but in the course of her examination she ‘repeatedly swooned away’ as she described what happened at Carey’s Lodge.
On finishing, the accused were brought in and Mrs Uniacke was bade turn around in their direction. She did as directed and promptly fainted. At this, reporter was lost for words to describe the scene, he said. On recovering, she asked ‘Will they hurt me?’. On being reassured that she had nothing to fear Mrs Uniacke regained her composure and straightaway identified one party and as the murderer of her husband and the other was the one who had struck her. She asserted she was certain, declaring ‘I have no difficulty in swearing most positively that these were the men’. Matters were now looking very grim when the only other witness mentioned in the papers was called. This was the Uniackes’ servant girl Catherine Finn or Flynn ( rendered as Flynn in one report) and it was apparent she was far from happy to take th stand.
Catherine Finn’s nightmare
Catherine Finn would have conformed to the stereotype of a servant girl of the time. Young, about sixteen or seventeen, uneducated, probably illiterate and more comfortable speaking Irish than English. She had been obliged attend at Fermoy barrack for the inquest and, in the lead up to the trial she had not been allowed home. Instead she had been lodged in the barrack. There, on the night of 16th February ‘ a most atrocious and daring outrage was committed ‘ on her by her guards, two lieutenants, one in the 89th Regiment and the other in the Clare Militia. The Hampshire Chronicle reported that the two entered her room and therein ‘violated’ her ‘in a most inhuman and barbarous manner’. And, to make matters worse, they left her to the sentry who himself had had his wicked way with her.
The trial
Catherine was called and in the midst of her trauma she delivered her evidence. Sadly, the newspaper reports provide little detail of what she said other than that ‘she gave a very candid testimony’ while in fact speaking ‘on the part of the prisoners’. But ‘it was not, however, of any great importance’ said the papers. What had she to say on the prisoners’ behalf we cannot know, but perhaps she claimed that it was impossible to identify the intruders in the candlelight on that fateful night. At any rate, given the time and the circumstances of the time, the opinion of a mere servant would have weighed little compared to that of a gentlewoman who said otherwise .
Next, the two prisoners, Hoye and Hickey were called. Claiming they were not guilty they ‘attempted to prove an alibi’. But to no avail. Before night was out, the jury had found them guilty and they were sentenced to hang at Careys’ Lodge; and in accordance with the custom of the time their bodies were ordered to be then delivered up for dissection by surgeons. Under a strong guard they were ‘transmitted to the place of execution’ on the following day and there at Baker’s Bridge where the Muchnagh Stream joins the Araglen they met their fate.
As for the two rapists - named as Lieutenants Vennell and Lawler - it is reported that they were apprehended on foot of a one-hundred guineas reward from their fellow officers and dismissed from the army. Studies of rape at the time - not at all uncommon on both sides during the rebellion - point to the likelihood that mild if any retribution would have followed.
Note: the names of the accused will be familiar to Araglen people, and so will that of Dr Martin Mansergh, former TD and Minister of State who is a descendant of St George Mansergh and delivered the address at the unveiling of the memorial. The inscription also includes Patrick Hynes who was hanged at Gallows Green in Cork two days later, but he is not mentioned in any of the newspaper reports.
An Dr Pádraig Ó Conchubhair a scríobh
Comments