Volume six of An Irish Family Saga, this one begins with more grief for James and family - Thomas dies in N.Y. from being beaten up by men unknown, after taking place of a younger reporter, a colleague, at a public speech. Families in N.Y. have to deal with it, but james and his youngest son find it hard, the grief is so unexpected.
Broderick had dealt with talking to George about his being a son of Gilmore after Catherine and Tom visited, but neither admits that MaryAnne is the real mother, since she keeps up her lie and they choose to believe her.
Then Frank, a son of Francis who was a cousin deported to Australia, visits. His search for graves of his ancestors yields no result, though, except an opportunity for the author to finally give a terse description of reality of the famine.
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"“Did Annie tell you her own father is a farmer?” asked Jamie. “He took on more land just six months ago. I reckon he’s got near enough to twenty acres now. Am I right?” the young man looked at his wife.
"“Twenty-two,” corrected Annie in a hushed voice.
"Jamie was puzzled by the almost apologetic tone his wife used. Normally, the expansion of a relative’s farm would have been spoken of with pride, given the history of land ownership in Ireland, or more correctly, the lack of it.
"“Young Frank here, and his brothers, have inherited five thousand acres between them from their father,” said James. “My cousin Francis did well for himself. You should be proud of his achievements, son, and don’t fret over someone mistaking your pride as bragging. Anyone who does so is envious of your good fortune.”"
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"The Wyndham Land Purchase Act of 1903 set the conditions for the breaking up of large estates, giving tenants the opportunity to own the land they rented. It more or less ended the era of absentee landlordism in Ireland."
" ... In early sixteenth century Ireland, Catholics, both Irish and Anglo-Norman, owned all of the land between them.
"However, after three hundred years of colonialism, plantations and evictions, about ninety percent of the country belonged to Anglo-Irish Protestant landlords, many of them absentee, and Catholics were forced to become tenants of their own land. To pay their rent, they had to sell their agricultural produce and livestock, or face eviction. Potatoes were nutritious, cheap to buy and grew quite easily in poor soil, without taking up too much space. This is how the vast majority of the Irish population came to be almost completely dependent on one crop."
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"“Ah, so you’re a fisherman, then,” said Mr. Rice.
"“I am, for my sins,” replied James. “My youngest son has his own boat now and it keeps a roof over our heads, thanks be to God.”
"“Were you here in Carrickmacross when Mitchell died?” asked Mr. Rice.
"James laughed and slapped his knee, “Indeed I was. What a night. Did your father ever tell you about that, Frank?”
"“Was it the time the bonfires were lit on every hilltop to celebrate his death?” the young Australian replied.
"Mr. Rice responded with a hearty laugh, “Ah! That was a wonderful sight to behold. Mitchell’s passing was the answer to many a prayer. He was a cruel, cruel man, who raised our rents the minute he took up his appointment as an agent for the landlord. My mother had always taken pride in her home but after that, she refused to let my father whitewash the walls nor paint the door.”
"“Why was that, sir?” asked Frank.
"“Because if your house looked too good, your rent went up, son,” said James.
"“Aye, and Mitchell was quick to spot any improvement. It was him that put a rent on the bogs that had always been free to cut,” Mr. Rice added.
"James sighed and nodded his head, “I remember that. Our family had to pay £18 for the three acres we had between us. As if it wasn’t enough facing the threat of hunger, Mitchell added the prospect of a cold winter and no way of cooking your food, if you couldn’t afford to rent a piece of bog.”"
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"Frank McGrother learned a lot in the few days he had been in Carrickmacross, as a guest of his distant relatives, but one very important piece of knowledge still eluded him – the whereabouts of his paternal grandparents’ grave. The blacksmith and his wife had been more than generous with their hospitality and even though they refused his offer of payment for lodging with them, they were grateful for the repairs around the house and forge, carried out by Frank during his stay. However, he was running out of time.
"Some older men of the town had quickly become used to the young Australian sitting alongside them as they watched the comings and goings of their neighbours. They had even shared their personal stories with him and Frank could hear the pain in their voices as they recounted a litany of tragic events that made his blood boil.
"Now and again, someone would pass them by and nod or shout out a greeting. This would elicit another sad account from the men about the person’s relatives. It seemed to Frank that just about every family in the town had suffered in some way from starvation, eviction or emigration.
"The years of blight from 1845 to 1848 destroyed potato harvests all over Europe. To prevent those who were starving in Ireland from eating crops, vegetables and animals intended for export by landlords for profit, the British Government increased its battalions there, by sending in another twenty thousand troops. This played a large part in the resulting Great Hunger, An Gorta Mór, and the starving poor, often sick with fever, begged for admission to the dreaded workhouses.
"Carrickmacross workhouse was originally built to house five hundred people but by 1851, with Ireland having suffered years of famine, almost two thousand men, women and children had been packed into the building, including many orphans."
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June 04, 2020 - June 05, 2020.
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