Irish Migrants in New Zealand, 1840-1937 : The Desired Haven' (Irish Historical Monographs)

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IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937 ‘The Desired Haven’ ‘I have at last reached the desired haven’, exclaimed Belfast-born Bessie Macready in 1878, the year of her arrival at Lyttelton, when writing home to cousins in County Down. Utilising fascinating personal correspondence exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand, this book explores individual responses to migration during the period of the great European emigrations across the world. It addresses a number of central questions in migration history such as the circumstances of departure, the prevalence of return and repeat migration, and reasons for staying. Moreover, how did migrant letter writers depict their voyage out, the environment, work, family and neighbours, politics, and faith? In answering these questions the book gives significant attention to the social networks constraining and enabling migrants. The book represents an innovative and original contribution to the history of European migration between the mid-nineteenth century and the interwar years. It addresses broader debates in the history of European migration relating to the use of personal testimony to chart the experiences of emigrants and the uncertain processes of adaptation, incorporation, and adjustment that migrants underwent in new and sometimes unfamiliar environments. The book also adds to the ever-increasing historiography of the Irish abroad. Angela McCarthy currently holds the J. D. Stout Research Fellowship in New Zealand Studies at Victoria University, Wellington, New Zealand. She has published numerous articles on aspects of Irish and Scottish migration in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and with Enda Delaney is writing Distant Voices: Life Stories of Migrants from Ireland and Scotland, 1920–1960.

Irish Historical Monographs ISSN 1740–1097 Series editors: Marie Therese Flanagan, Queen’s University, Belfast Eunan O’Halphin, Trinity College, Dublin David Hayton, Queen’s University, Belfast

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937 ‘The Desired Haven’

Angela McCarthy

THE BOYDELL PRESS

© Angela McCarthy 2005 All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner The right of Angela McCarthy to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 First published 2005 The Boydell Press, Woodbridge ISBN 1 84383 143 0 The Boydell Press is an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk IP12 3DF, UK and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue, Rochester, NY 14620, USA website: www.boydellandbrewer.com A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data McCarthy, Angela, 1971Irish migrants in New Zealand, 1840-1937 : ‘the desired haven’ / Angela McCarthy. p. cm. — (Irish historical monographs series, ISSN 1740-1097) Summary: “Study of individual experiences of migration through personal correspondence of emigrants from Ireland to New Zealand”—Provided by publisher. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 1-84383-143-0 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Irish—New Zealand—Correspondence. 2. Irish—New Zealand—History— Sources. 3. Immigrants—New Zealand—Correspondence. 4. Immigrants—New Zealand—History—Sources. 5. Ireland—Emigration and immigration—History— Sources. 6. New Zealand—Emigration and immigration—History—Sources. 7. New Zealand—Ethnic relations. I. Title. II. Series. DU424.5.I74M38 2005 305.891’62093’0922—dc22

2004030870

This publicationDisclaimer: is printed on acid-free paper Some images in the printed of this book are Lodge, not available for inclusion in the eBook. Typeset byversion Keystroke, Jacaranda Wolverhampton To view these imagesPrinted please refer to theBritain printed by version of this book. in Great St Edmundsbury Press Ltd, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk

Contents

List of illustrations Acknowledgements Abbreviations Editorial notes

vii viii x xi

Introduction 1

1

‘It is well to gain that shore’: Irish migration and New Zealand settlement

50

‘Very perfection of a letter writer’: an overview of Irish–New Zealand correspondence

81

3

‘Seas may divide’: the voyage

97

4

‘How different it is from home’: comparing Ireland and New Zealand

5

‘No rough work here like at home’: work in New Zealand and Ireland 145

6

‘Bands of fellowship’: familial relations and social networks in New Zealand

166

‘I must have you home’: return migration, home, and relationships in Ireland

190

‘Never denie your country’: politics and identity in the Old and New Worlds

210

‘Out of darkness into light’: the importance of faith

236

Conclusion

262

Appendix Bibliography Personal name index Place name index Thematic index

266 281 301 308 310

2

7 8 9

v

120

For my mother and grandmother with much love and in fond memory of Canon John Cameron (1926–2000)

Illustrations

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Irish origins of emigrant correspondents New Zealand destinations of emigrant correspondents Lizzie Ayson (formerly Ferguson) Philip Carroll Michael Flanagan Rose and Charles Gamble Hamilton, Henry, Samuel, Robert, and John Gilmer John Gilmore with his family, c. 1890 Alice Fenton (formerly Gilmore), c. 1925 Thomas William Hughes Michael and Bridget Harty (formerly Keane) David and Margaret Anne Kilpatrick outside their Newton Road house in Auckland, c. 1903 The family of Agnes and Michael Lambert, c. 1877 The Heldt family Emily, Edith, Jim, Eliza, Olive, and Frank McIlrath at Thorndale, Springfield, Canterbury, 1901 Hamilton and Eliza McIlrath, with two of their children Alexander Neil McKelvey Ellen Maher (formerly Piezzi and Walsh) in her hotel with her sons and daughter

9 12 14 16 20 22 24 26 27 28 30 31 33 36 39 40 41 45

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view these images please refer to the printed version of this book.

vii

Acknowledgements

This book began as a doctoral thesis in the Department of History at Trinity College, Dublin. I am especially grateful to my supervisor, Professor David Fitzpatrick, whose evocative edition of Irish–Australian correspondence inspired the project. He also generously shared several collections of letters used in this book. Lyndon Fraser likewise supplied wise counsel during the thesis stage, and I am deeply appreciative of his enthusiastic support of and interest in this study, which included sourcing several research materials in New Zealand and commenting on most of the manuscript. The initial process of revising the thesis into a book was made possible by the financial support of the New Zealand Federation of Graduate Women (Auckland Branch) who in 2001 awarded the project one of two inaugural Millennium Research Fund Awards. I am deeply grateful to the Branch and also to the Department of History at the University of Auckland for providing me with essential facilities to make substantial preliminary modifications. In particular, I would like to thank Malcolm Campbell, Caroline Daley, and Hugh Laracy, all of whom supplied succinct comment on several chapters. The final process of revision took place at the AHRB Centre for Irish and Scottish Studies at the University of Aberdeen. I would especially like to acknowledge the enthusiastic assistance and invaluable attentiveness of Enda Delaney, who generously and perceptively scrutinised the final draft, offering many fruitful insights that enriched this present study. Enda’s unstinting belief in this project and warm encouragement during disheartening times have been uplifting. Other individuals helped in a myriad of ways. I would therefore like to thank John Bassett, Rory Sweetman, Alasdair Galbraith, Séan Brosnahan, Richard Herbert, Ray Dobson, Lyn Wright, Mary Ryan, Annette McKee, Jim Herlihy, and Dominic Ryan. Several institutions generously waived their fees and provided immense assistance that greatly facilitated this study. I am therefore happy to acknowledge the Central Registry Office, New Zealand, for allowing me access to their birth, death, and marriage records; the University of Auckland Library, for lending privileges; Auckland Catholic Diocese Archives; the Irish Valuation Office; and Limerick Archives. I am also grateful for the assistance provided by Walter Guttery of the New Zealand Defence Force; Alex Ward, viii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

archivist of the Grand Lodge of Ireland; S. J. Cooper from the Grand Lodge of New Zealand Freemasons; and Roderick Milne, P.P. Otaki. The following institutions kindly provided permission to reproduce various documents and illustrations in their care: Alexander Turnbull Library, Archives of the Anglican Diocese of Auckland, Canterbury Museum, National Archives Auckland and Wellington, National Archives Ireland, National Library Ireland, Nelson Provincial Museum, and the Public Record Office of Northern Ireland. Deep appreciation is due to the descendants of the writers and recipients at the heart of this study who generously shared their letters and knowledge. I therefore wish to thank Ann Gilmore Adams, Ned Andrews, Beverley Baird, Pamela Bates, Tom Bell, Reg Brown and Rene Brown, Br Philip Carroll, O.F.M., John Coghlan, Ginny Dow, Orma Fairweather, Lena Fraser, Alice Gemming, Sandra Gilpin, Joan Graham, Catherine Habes, Jenny Hardiman, Richard Herbert, Moore Fisher Johnston, Alan Kilpatrick, Garry Lambert, Patrick Lambert and Helen Lambert, Jenny Langford, Noelene Lavin, Joan Leonard, Suzanne Lisson, John Martin, Vera Major, Virginia McClennan, David McKelvey, Donald Murphy, Tom Murphy, Lorna Neame, Mabel K. Neame, Michael O’Brien, Teresa O’Connor, Molly O’Dwyer, Margaret O’Neil, Peter O’Sullivan, Gwenda Pakenham-Hughes, Dennis Regan, Juann Ryan, Leone Shaw, Mary Slavin, and Gary Walsh. Alas, a great debt that I left too late to acknowledge personally is to Canon John Cameron whose inspired teaching first sparked my interest in history. This book is warmly dedicated to his memory. It is also dedicated with much love to my mother and grandmother for always being there. And a woof for Murph! Angela McCarthy Wellington

ix

Abbreviations

A.C.D.A. A.J.H.R. A.T.L. H.C.P. I.V.O. N.A.A. N.A.C. N.A.D. N.A.I. N.A.W. N.L.I. N.Z.J.H. P.P. P.R.O.N.I. R.C.B.L.

Auckland Catholic Diocese Archives Appendices to the Journals of the House of Representatives Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington House of Commons, Papers Irish Valuation Office, Dublin National Archives, Auckland National Archives, Christchurch National Archives, Dunedin National Archives, Ireland National Archives, Wellington National Library of Ireland, Dublin New Zealand Journal of History Parish priest Public Record Office of Northern Ireland, Belfast Representative Church Body Library, Dublin

x

Editorial notes

Citations from letters studied in this book are indicated with a reference such as Ar 1. This example refers to John Armstrong’s first letter. These citations can be followed by referring to the Appendix which provides a breakdown of the writer, recipient, and date that the letter was composed. Reproduction of the spelling and grammar contained in the original letters remains unaltered though sentence and paragraph breaks have been incorporated. Editorial excisions have been kept to a minimum but are as follows: Clarifications: Authentic oddities: Illegible words: Illegible words with suggestion: Elements lost through mutilation: Words deleted or omitted:

thos are too mats [those are two mates] untill; in in. [word illegible] [?favour] marr[ied] [erased: to] [omitted: to]

xi

Introduction

In 1878 Bessie Macready, a 28-year-old Belfast orphan, travelled for 79 days on the Pleiades to her maternal aunts, Elizabeth and Sarah McMain, residing at Governors Bay, near Christchurch. Shortly after her arrival Bessie wrote to her cousins in Ireland declaring blissfully, ‘I have travelled over about fifteen thousand miles of water and at last got to the desired haven’ (Ma 1).1 Many Irish emigrants settling in New Zealand shared Bessie Macready’s initial rapturous view of the country as a south pacific paradise, an arcadia, a utopia. But did such favourable impressions linger? Three years after her arrival Bessie Macready sent a vivid outline of colonial life to her cousins. In it she admitted to having spent ‘many a weary time’ managing a shop in Lyttelton, but acknowledged optimistically, ‘I was gaining something and that enabled me to bear up in prospect of a happier future’ (Ma 3). For Bessie Macready this future entailed a stint as housekeeper for a wealthy Christchurch family, an interlude teaching at Governors Bay school, and then a period as dressmaker.2 After her death Bessie was recollected as ‘a cultured Irishwoman with a flair for astronomy. She was tall and dignified and wore beaded mittens and a black dolman with a ruffle around the neck’.3 Regrettably, Bessie Macready’s bubbly, sanguine voice falls silent after 1881. Other sources, however, suggest that colonial life had turned sour. ‘Recluse Dies’ the Lyttelton Times announced audaciously upon learning of Bessie Macready’s death in October 1926. Bessie’s grocer, who called every Friday, discovered the deceased 82-year-old in her home at Governors Bay. He instantly summoned the local policeman who described her corpse as ‘half starved’. The Mount Herbert Council County Clerk, meanwhile, testified bleakly at Bessie’s inquest, ‘Those who knew her were of opinion that she was

1

Extracts from Bessie Macready’s letters, T/3034/1–2, and others held at the Public Record Office of Northern Ireland (P.R.O.N.I.), are kindly reproduced by permission of the Deputy Keeper of the Records, P.R.O.N.I. 2 I am grateful to Lyn Wright for confirming Bessie’s brief stint as a schoolteacher. 3 C. E. Burrell, ‘Governors Bay has a romantic history’, Auckland Weekly News, undated. Typed extract in the possession of Allison Hussey of Governors Bay and kindly brought to my attention by Lyn Wright. 1

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

not taking proper care of herself’.4 Bessie was buried at St Cuthbert’s Anglican churchyard at Governors Bay. Bessie Macready’s last years mirror widespread and influential interpretations of migration as a destabilising process. Her initial reunion with her aunts, followed by their deaths, and her apparent descent into seclusion, echoes Patrick O’Farrell’s analysis of the Irish who ‘brought their kinship mentality to Australia, where it gradually crumbled and fell apart, declining into a residual social atomism marked by separation, isolation, loneliness and eventual alienation of society’s individual parts’.5 This focus on migrant homesickness and alienation also characterises studies of the Irish in North America. Incorporating extracts from Irish emigrant letters sent from North America, together with other personal documents, Kerby Miller contends, ‘Acute homesickness pervaded the letters and journals of most post-Famine emigrants’.6 These depictions of migration involving alienation likewise feature in studies of New Zealand society. In their collection of extracts from the writings of European women in nineteenth-century New Zealand, Frances Porter and Charlotte Macdonald argue that migration was ‘inherently destabilising’, that ‘family ties were to be shrugged off, or were no longer there . . . . It was a place to establish new connections’, and that there was a ‘lack of society’.7 Their grim claims echo Miles Fairburn’s penetrating portrayal of New Zealand’s social organisation as ‘gravely deficient’. According to Fairburn, ‘Community structures were few and weak and the forces of social isolation were many and powerful. Bondlessness was central to colonial life’.8 A significant cause of this atomisation, Fairburn maintains, was that ‘most colonists . . . had already severed their links with place, family, friends, community in the great uprooting that led them to New Zealand’.9 This book provides further support for an alternative portrait. Like recent studies of robust kin-oriented communities at New Plymouth, Waipu, Christchurch, and Taradale, it challenges representations of mid to late nineteenth-century New Zealand as a kinless, atomised society.10 It argues that

4

J46 1926/1235 Macready, Coroner’s Report, N.A.W. Patrick O’Farrell, Letters from Irish Australia, 1825–1929 (Kensington, 1984), p. 6. 6 Kerby A. Miller, Emigrants and exiles: Ireland and the Irish exodus to North America (New York, 1985), p. 512. 7 Frances Porter and Charlotte Macdonald (eds), ‘My hand will write what my heart dictates’: the unsettled lives of women in nineteenth-century New Zealand as revealed to sisters, family, and friends (Auckland, 1996), pp 3, 386–7, 6. 8 Miles Fairburn, The ideal society and its enemies: the foundations of modern New Zealand society, 1850–1900 (Auckland, 1989), p. 11. 9 Ibid., p. 94. 10 Raewyn Dalziel, ‘Emigration and kinship: migrants to New Plymouth, 1840–1843’ in N.Z.J.H., xxv (1991), pp 112–28; Maureen Molloy, Those who speak to the heart: the Nova Scotian Scots at Waipu, 1854–1920 (Palmerston North, 1991); Lyndon Fraser, To Tara via 5

2

INTRODUCTION

many Irish men and women made their decision to leave Ireland and settle in New Zealand based on the guidance of pioneering migrants. These connexions not only directed and sustained Irish migration to New Zealand shores, but also were central to the process of migrant adjustment. Though Bessie Macready’s experience reminds us that settlement abroad could be an isolating experience, other personal stories illuminate another, more positive, aspect of the migration saga. Drawing upon 253 personal letters, together with genealogical material and local sources, this book examines individual accounts of migration. It poses the questions: why did Irish men and women leave Ireland? Why did some of their connexions choose to stay? How did migrant letter writers depict their voyage out, the environment, work, family and neighbours, politics, and faith? How did their representations compare with accounts sent by their family and friends in Ireland? Did contemporary reports from Ireland suggest that settlement abroad had been a worthwhile undertaking? Or was return and repeat migration prevalent? Personal letters offer illuminating insights into such questions. So long as their manipulative function is recognised, they are largely trustworthy sources, for the robust network element involved in Irish migration inevitably meant that the writer’s true condition would be learned. Letters are also a valuable source for information about those who chose not to write or who were illiterate. In using private correspondence, however, we should place the commentary in context by establishing the relationship between writers and recipients, and taking into account background and foreground circumstances. Regrettably, only a few thousand letters have survived in relation to the millions of letters that were exchanged throughout all parts of the Irish diaspora. The hazards of fire, flood, and dampness presumably destroyed many letters while their fragility meant that others were easily torn, lost, or discarded. More significantly, the preservation instincts, or lack thereof, of subsequent generations have also influenced the survival of personal correspondence. Letters that have escaped routine housekeeping tasks or been sold for the sake of a stamp have therefore been deliberately preserved, possibly for genealogical or historical interest. Other letters have survived largely by accident, discovered decades later by curious family historians. Given the mechanisms by which private correspondence has endured, those letters that have survived are exceptional, and therefore unlikely to be representative of all the letters sent throughout the Irish diaspora. Nor can the surviving correspondence be offered as a representative sample of letter writers or participants in the migration process. Nonetheless, personal letters remain an essential source for

Holyhead: Irish Catholic immigrants in nineteenth-century Christchurch (Auckland, 1997); Caroline Daley, Girls and women, men and boys: gender in Taradale, 1886–1930 (Auckland, 1999). 3

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

discovering the diverse responses of migrant and non-migrant correspondents to migration. Despite the potential offered by personal letters to explore aspects of New Zealand and Irish society, migrants’ private correspondence has been largely neglected by previous historians of Irish-New Zealand.11 Instead, most scholars have used other sources and approaches to examine the lives of Irish migrants in New Zealand.12 Parish registers and church records have proved particularly popular among historians concerned with the religious aspect of migrant lives. Yet, to date, this has focused primarily on the clerical rather than lay viewpoint, and has been confined largely to Irish Catholics.13 Other biographical sources, meanwhile, have been utilised in studies of prominent Irishmen,14 and in explorations of ‘prosperous’ and ‘bourgeois’ Catholic Irish in Auckland and Dunedin.15 Analysis of the Protestant Irish has also drawn upon biographical material along with scrutiny of specific communities.16 The

11

Exceptions include D. H. Akenson, ‘Reading the texts of rural immigrants: letters from the Irish in Australia, New Zealand, and North America’ in Donald H. Akenson (ed.), Canadian papers in rural history (Ontario, 1990), vii, 387–406; Trevor Parkhill, ‘“Prospects of this new colony”: letters of Ulster emigrants to New Zealand, 1840–1900’ in Familia, ii, no. 5 (1989), pp 38–42. Patrick O’Farrell has also utilised extracts from his family’s correspondence in Vanished kingdoms: Irish in Australia and New Zealand, a personal excursion (Kensington, 1990). 12 The pioneering work on the Irish in New Zealand is Richard P. Davis, Irish issues in New Zealand politics, 1868–1922 (Dunedin, 1974). A broader overview appears in Donald Harman Akenson, Half the world from home: perspectives on the Irish in New Zealand, 1860–1950 (Wellington, 1990). Recent published work includes collections of essays in Brad Patterson (ed.), The Irish in New Zealand: historical contexts and perspectives (Wellington, 2002) and Lyndon Fraser (ed.), A distant shore: Irish migration and New Zealand settlement (Dunedin, 2000). Anna Rogers has also supplied a strongly illustrated overview in A lucky landing: the story of the Irish in New Zealand (Auckland, 1996). 13 See for instance Michael King, God’s farthest outpost: a history of Catholics in New New [sic] Zealand (Auckland, 1997); Rory Matthew Sweetman, ‘New Zealand Catholicism, war, politics, and the Irish issue, 1912–1922’, Ph.D. thesis, University of Cambridge, 1990; Rory Sweetman, ‘“How to behave among protestants”: varieties of Irish Catholic leadership in colonial New Zealand’ in Patterson (ed.), The Irish in New Zealand, pp 89–101; S. C. MacPherson, ‘“A ready made nucleus of degradation and disorder”? a religious and social history of the Catholic Church and community in Auckland, 1870–1910’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1987; Rachael Partington, ‘Faith and nationality: Catholic lay societies and Irish immigrant adaptation to Auckland society, 1870–1910’, M.A. Research Essay, University of Auckland, 1993. 14 R. C. J. Stone, James Dilworth (Auckland, 1995). 15 Bernard Francis Cadogan, ‘Lace curtain Catholics: the Catholic bourgeoisie of the diocese of Dunedin’, B.A. dissertation, University of Otago, 1984; Gabrielle A. Fortune, ‘Hugh Coolahan and the prosperous Irish: Auckland, 1840–1870’, M.A., University of Auckland, 1997. 16 Alasdair Galbraith, ‘New Zealand’s “invisible” Irish: Irish protestants in the North Island of New Zealand, 1840–1900’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1998. See also his essays, 4

INTRODUCTION

separate experiences of Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants is likewise evident in investigations of their fraternal societies. The two most identifiably Irish organisations in New Zealand, the Ancient Order of Hibernians and Orange Order, have received pioneering analysis, though much more research is required.17 Inevitably these institutions raise the issues of ethnic identity and sectarianism. Despite an overblown account of Irish issues on the West Coast goldfields, sectarian disturbances appear overall to have been relatively scattered affairs.18 A focus on specific regions has also generated significant studies, mainly utilising parish and civil registers, street directories, probates, and genealogies.19 This book likewise uses such sources, in conjunction with personal letters, to reconstruct the lives of Irish men and women at home and abroad. It makes a substantial contribution to the historiography of the Irish in New Zealand by adopting a transnational perspective, an analysis dealing with two societies and the migrants who crossed these boundaries. This approach is taken in an effort to break down the inhibitive ‘salt-water curtain’20 characterising many investigations of migration. The book also analyses the role of the family in the migration process. It does so as renewed interest in social networks has resurrected curiosity in the part played by kin at origin and destination in the processes of relocation and adaptation.21 Wider networks based on friendship, neighbourhood, and community are also discussed. These personal networks, which could exploit

‘A forgotten plantation: the Irish in Pukekohe, 1865–1900’ in Patterson (ed.), The Irish in New Zealand, pp 117–30, and ‘The invisible Irish? re-discovering the Irish Protestant tradition in colonial New Zealand’ in Fraser (ed.), A distant shore, pp 36–54. 17 Rory Sweetman, Faith and fraternalism: a history of the Hibernian Society in New Zealand, 1869–2000 (Wellington, 2002); Rory Sweetman, ‘“The importance of being Irish”: Hibernianism in New Zealand, 1869–1969’ in Fraser (ed.), A distant shore, pp 135–54; Patrick J. Coleman, ‘Transplanted Irish institutions: Orangeism and Hibernianism in New Zealand, 1877–1910’, M.A. thesis, University of Canterbury, 1993; T. A. Moyes, ‘The sash their fathers wore: a history of Orangeism in the North Island of New Zealand, 1868–1900’, M.A. Research Essay, University of Auckland, 1994. 18 David McGill, The lion and the wolfhound: the Irish rebellion on the New Zealand goldfields (Wellington, 1990); Seán G. Brosnahan, ‘“The battle of the borough” and the “saige o Timaru”: sectarian riot in colonial Canterbury’ in N.Z.J.H., xxviii (1994), pp 41–59. 19 Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead; Lyndon Fraser, ‘Irish migration to the West Coast, 1864–1900’ in N.Z.J.H., xxxiv (2000), pp 197–225. See also Angela Tindall, ‘From county Cork to the southern corinth: aspects of Corkonian immigration to Auckland in the mid to late nineteenth century’, M.A. thesis, University College, Dublin, 1996. 20 Frank Thistlethwaite, ‘Migration from Europe overseas in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries’ in Herbert Moller (ed.), Population movement in modern European history (New York, 1964), p. 74. 21 See especially Robert L. Bach and Lisa A. Schraml, ‘Migration, crisis, and theoretical conflict’ in International Migration Review, xxxvi (1982), p. 328; Monica Boyd, ‘Family and personal networks in international migration: recent developments and new agendas’ in International Migration Review, xxiii (1989), p. 639. 5

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

as well as facilitate, tied migrants and non-migrants together. To what extent were individuals constrained or enabled by this collective involvement in migration? Were alliances or conflicts more readily conveyed? This book also contributes to the historiography of the Irish abroad. Though not overtly comparative, it contrasts letters to and from New Zealand with correspondence sent and received by their compatriots elsewhere. This is a particularly fruitful approach given the conflicting interpretations surrounding Irish settlement in Australia compared with North America. As Malcolm Campbell has warned: ‘Given the wide divergence between the predominant interpretation of the Irish experience in the United States and the much more positive pattern of accommodation revealed by most scholarship on other settler societies, the development of a rigorous comparative history seems an urgent and essential task’.22 Alas, few scholars have sought to explain the settlement of the Irish abroad in a comparative context.23 The comparisons contained in this book are primarily made with David Fitzpatrick’s Oceans of Consolation, the most innovative study to use personal letters.24 Reproducing full transcripts of letters sent to and from Irish migrants in Australia, and exploring each correspondent’s local context, Fitzpatrick emphasised the consolatory, manipulative, and functional significance of personal correspondence. Moreover, by including letters sent to migrants from family and friends in Ireland, Fitzpatrick has shown the impact of migration on the mobile as well as the immobile. Fitzpatrick’s examination of 111 letters exchanged between Ireland and Australia between 1843 and 1906, selected from several hundred consulted, provides a fascinating insight into life in Australia, life in Ireland, and the process of migration. His rationale for providing transcripts is clear: ‘Assessment of the significance of form and language, as well as content, is impossible in the absence of faithful and uncondensed transcriptions of letters’.25 This book is based on twice as many letters as Fitzpatrick’s and therefore this rules out the inclusion of their transcripts. The exclusion is mitigated to some extent by the reproduction of

22

Malcolm Campbell, ‘The other immigrants: comparing the Irish in Australia and the United States’ in Journal of American Ethnic History, xiv (1995), p. 12. 23 Notable exceptions include Donald Harman Akenson, The Irish diaspora: a primer (Toronto and Belfast, 1993); David Noel Doyle, ‘The Irish in Australia and the United States: some comparisons, 1880–1939’ in Irish Economic and Social History, xvi (1989); and the following articles by Malcolm Campbell: ‘The other immigrants’; ‘Irish nationalism and immigrant assimilation: comparing the United States and Australia’ in Australasian Journal of American Studies, xvi (1996), pp 24–43; ‘Emigrant responses to war and revolution, 1914–21: Irish opinion in the United States and Australia’ in Irish Historical Studies, xxxii (2000–2001), pp 75–92. 24 David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995). 25 Ibid., p. 23. 6

INTRODUCTION

several of these sources elsewhere.26 Unlike Fitzpatrick’s study, then, this book takes a purely thematic approach. Of the 253 letters studied in this book, 135 were sent from New Zealand and 118 from Ireland.27 The sequences vary from one to 38 letters with five series incorporating letters sent in both directions. 28 Several sequences therefore have more than one correspondent and overall there are 74 writers (43 male, 31 female). Men wrote 164 letters while women wrote 89.29 Letters from Protestants (140) slightly outnumber those sent by Catholic writers (113). The migrants in this study do not reflect the religious affiliation of New Zealand’s Irish migrants on a statistical level, but such representation is not an essential requirement of this study. As the following chapters reveal, Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants in New Zealand shared similar preoccupations and there was little to separate them on matters of concern in their letters. This study therefore endorses Akenson’s claim that only ‘small differences’ separated Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants.30 The time-frame of these letters spans the years 1840–1937, thereby recognising that most correspondents arriving in New Zealand between the peak immigration years of 1860 to 1880 were still sending and receiving information by the 1920s (see Table I.1). The letters illustrate the critical role played by family and friends at home and abroad in the processes of relocation and settlement from the early years of settlement through the ‘Vogel’ period of immigration, that is the period 1871–85 during Julius Vogel’s term as Minister of Immigration, and through to the division of Ireland into two states. To limit the study to a certain time period, say between the 1860s and the 1880s, would leave the changing experience of migration and settlement unexamined, and this long-range focus facilitates an assessment of these processes over time. It would also mean excluding the thoughts and feelings at a later date of migrants who arrived during the nineteenth century. All told, this study examines 36 migrants who wrote to or received letters from their connexions in Ireland.31 Most (20) were natives of Ulster, with

26

Angela McCarthy, ‘“Seas may divide”: Irish migration to New Zealand as portrayed in personal correspondence, 1840–1937’, Ph.D. thesis, 2 vols, Trinity College, Dublin, 2000. Complete transcripts of the letters are contained in volume 2. 27 Letters from New Zealand include 11 sent from port or ship, 2 from Australia, and 7 sent within New Zealand. Letters from Ireland include 10 sent from London and 2 sent from the United States. 28 McIlrath, Gilmer, Flanagan, Kilpatrick, and Lambert. 29 99 letters were sent by men in New Zealand and 65 from men in Ireland. Women in New Zealand sent 35 letters while women in Ireland sent 52. 30 Donald Harman Akenson, Small differences: Irish Catholics and Irish Protestants, 1815–1922, an international perspective (Kingston, 1988). 31 This figure of 36 migrants is based on just one migrant selected from each family that contained two or more migrant letter writers: Flanagan, Gilmer, Gilmore, McClure, McIlrath, and Quinn. 7

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

Table I.1 Number of letters exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland Decade

From New Zealand

From Ireland

1840s 1850s 1860s 1870s 1880s 1890s 1900s 1910s 1920s 1930s

0 1 34 39 23 12 18 2 6 0

3 0 8 14 10 15 13 9 41 5

13 emerging from the north-eastern counties of Londonderry, Antrim, and Down. Munster supplied 11 migrants, with four from Tipperary alone, while three left Connacht and two departed from Leinster (see Figure 1). As will be seen in Chapter 1 such origins are not representative of the overall flow of Irish migrants to New Zealand, but they do echo the predominant Ulster–Munster background of the majority of settlers in New Zealand. These migrants were also principally lower middle class and from comfortable backgrounds (see Table I.2). The median annual valuation and area of the households they emerged from was £14 15s and approximately 27.0.20 acres, slightly higher than the correspondents in Fitzpatrick’s study (£12 and 22 acres).32 In this respect, the Irish Protestants in this study fit nicely with their Catholic counterparts who also mainly emerged from middling backgrounds. Not one Protestant migrant at the centre of this study surfaced from a household valued annually at more than £52. Indeed, the two highest valuations related to Catholic migrants. Seventeen migrants in this study were reared on farms, ranging vastly in size from an acre to 319 acres. The remainder were the children of a labourer, shopkeeper, publican, blacksmith, stonemason, coachmaker, constabulary officer (two), teacher (two), Church of Ireland minister, and doctor.33 Of those migrants who arrived as assisted migrants, with their fare either paid by the government or raised by friends and family in the colony, their trades were listed as farm labourers and domestic servants. Once in New Zealand, however, they pursued diverse occupations. Four male migrants were labourers and five were miners while skilled migrants included a carpenter, wheelwright, and tailor. Two migrants pursued a navy and army career respectively while

32 33

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 31. The occupation for the fathers of seven migrants has not been traced. 8

INTRODUCTION Colgan McSparron McCleland McKelvey

Bell Ferguson

N

ULSTER

Londonderry Antrim

Donegal

Macready McClure Lambert

McCullough

Tyrone Coghlan

Hughes

McIlrath

Fermanagh

Gilmore Monan

Down

Armagh

Cardwell Rea

Monaghan

Sligo

Kilpatrick

Leitrim Mayo

Cavan

Gilmer Treanor

Louth Roscommon

CONNACHT

Longford

Quinn Dawson

LEINSTER

Meath

Flanagan

Westmeath

Armstrong

Galway

Dublin Kildare

King’s Strong

Wicklow

Queen’s Clare

O’Neill

Carlow

Lysaght

Limerick

Sullivan

Furlong

Dempsey

Kilkenny

Dwyer

Kerry

Tipperary

Wexford

Piezzi

Waterford Carroll Farrell

Cork

Keane

O’Regan

MUNSTER

IRELAND

0

50 miles

0

80 kms

Figure 1 Irish origins of emigrant correspondents

commercial migrants included two accountants, a storekeeper, and a hotelkeeper. One migrant was a doctor and three migrants chose to farm. The occupations of female correspondents included a milliner, machinist, dispenser, and hotelkeeper. Six women undertook domestic service, while the only female migrant who remained unmarried was variously a shopkeeper, housekeeper, teacher, and dressmaker. The three married female migrants worked on family farms and also took on sewing duties. The majority of migrants (24) arrived between 1860 and 1885, the peak years of British and Irish migration to New Zealand. Nine migrants in this study travelled to New Zealand during the 1860s and 1870s, while seven 9

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

Table I.2 Annual valuation of correspondents Name

Annual valuation

Acreage

Religion

Rea McCleland Dwyer Gilmore Sullivan Keane Ferguson Coghlan Macready Strong McSparron Carroll Dawson Reid Gilmer Bell Lysaght Cardwell Dempsey McIlrath Colgan McKelvey Armstrong Monan McCullough O’Neill Flanagan

0 5s 5s 6da 7s 101⁄2da £1 10s £1 10s £1 13s £1 15s £2 12s £6 £7 £7 £13 10s £14 5s £14 15s £16 £17 5s £17 5s £18 10s £28 10s £33 5s £33 15s £37 10s £42 £42 15s £52 £68 £138

— 3.2.0b 7b — 6.0.3 1.0.0 0.0.10 0.0.32 — 11.2.3 47.2.32 — 33.1.30 9.1.25 16.2.15 29.2.33 22.0.15 33.0.15 29.2.10 27.0.20 27.3.35 319.0.10 33.1.17 55 45.3.30 — 118.1.12

Protestant Protestant Catholic Protestant Catholic Catholic Protestant Catholic Protestant Catholic Protestant Catholic Catholic Protestant Protestant Protestant Catholic Protestant Catholic Protestant Protestant Protestant Protestant Catholic Protestant Catholic Catholic

Notes: The annual valuation for the families of nine correspondents (Farrell, Furlong, Hughes, McClure, McNeice, O’Regan, Quinn, Treanor, Walsh) has not been traced. a These values are taken from the Tithe Applotment Books. b Acres are Irish.

travelled during the 1880s. By contrast, the migrants in Fitzpatrick’s study generally settled in Australia between 1850 and 1865.34 The age at emigration for the migrants in this study ranged between 16 and 45 with the median age being 24, slightly higher than the mean age of single Irish migrants who arrived 34

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 33. 10

INTRODUCTION

in New Zealand in 1876.35 Of the 36 migrants in this study, 24 were 30 years of age or under when they arrived in New Zealand.36 As for their marital status, six migrants arrived already married, with children accompanying four of the couples.37 Two migrants wed within days of embarkation, while ten never married. The remainder married between one and nineteen years after arriving in New Zealand. Of those marrying in New Zealand thirteen migrants found partners of Irish birth or descent while five married non-Irish partners. Once in New Zealand these thirty-six migrants settled widely (see Figure 2). Twelve made their residence in Auckland, six each in Westland and Wellington, five in Otago, four in Canterbury, and one each in Southland, Taranaki, and Nelson. Two migrants chose to depart permanently from New Zealand. Before undertaking a thematic analysis of their letters, the remainder of this chapter provides pen portraits of the various migrants whose letters are examined in this book.38

John Henry Armstrong John Henry Armstrong was born on 17 May 1835 at Kiltoom, County Roscommon, the second son and seventh child of eight, to Church of Ireland minister John Armstrong and his wife Catherine Lloyd who had married at Clifton church in July 1825. John Armstrong senior studied at Trinity College, Dublin, and took up his first curacy at Kilgleffin in the parish of Elphin before being appointed vicar of Kiltoom and Camma in 1828. John junior migrated to New Zealand some time around December 1851. In May 1853 John’s father died and his mother relocated to Dublin where she remained until her death in 1873. John Armstrong’s three known surviving letters were composed between 1859 and 1865 and sent to his sister Marian in Dublin.39 Through his articulate and vigorous writing style, John provided illuminating and detailed information about his involvement in the colonial army and events during the New Zealand Wars. Perhaps following in the footsteps of his uncle, John Yeadon Lloyd, who was a major, John became a lieutenant in the Taranaki Militia in 1860 and was made captain two years later.40 On 10 March 1864 John

35 In 1876, the mean age of single Irish migrants was 22.5 for males and 22.4 for females. See Akenson, Half the world from home, Table 11, p. 45. 36 Nine were older and seven are unknown. The median age was 24. 37 The marriages of Cornelius Dwyer, Catherine Sullivan, and Margaret Anne Kilpatrick took place approximately twenty, eighteen, and one year before emigration. They were accompanied by seven, five, and one offspring respectively. 38 Extended profiles of many of these correspondents are contained in volume 1 of McCarthy, ‘Seas may divide’. 39 The Armstrong letters are in P.R.O.N.I., T/1978/1–3. 40 His commission was unwelcome and it was noted that ‘Armstrong has the misfortune

11

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

NEW ZEALAND

North Island

Lambert Kilpatrick Lysaght O’Neill Furlong Strong Quinn McKelvey Carroll Hughes

Monan Auckland

Gilmore

Auckland

Armstrong

Taranaki Treanor Dawson

Wellington Hawke’s Bay

Dwyer

Sullivan

Wellington

South Island Flanagan McCullough

Marlborough

Nelson

O’Regan

McCleland Gilmer Keane

Farrell Piezzi Coghlan

Westland

Christchurch

Macready Cardwell

Canterbury McIlrath Dempsey Bell

Otago

N

McSparron

Dunedin

Gamble

McClure

Southland

Provincial boundaries

Ferguson Rea

Stewart Island

0

125 miles

0

200 kms

Figure 2 New Zealand destinations of emigrant correspondents

Armstrong, aged 29, married 21-year-old Emma Sarah Mace at St Mary’s church, New Plymouth. The couple had six children. Though John’s remaining life is largely undocumented, directories and electoral rolls indicate his permanent residence at Waitara, where he farmed 130 acres of land valued at £1,013 in 1882. When John Armstrong died on to be the Major’s nephew & is young & not very eligible . . . . Some of the nominations are certainly not judicious, and all would prefer a mature man to lead them caeteris paribus’. See G. H. Scholefield (ed.), The Richmond–Atkinson papers (Wellington, 1960), I, 357–8. 12

INTRODUCTION

24 April 1915 at 80 years of age his will was valued at under £1,000 and he had five children still living.41 His sister Marian had spent her remaining years at the Mageough Home for Aged Females on Cowper Road in Upper Rathmines, Dublin. Founded in 1878, the Home provided ‘for the habitations, support, and clothing of aged females professing the Protestant faith, and of good character and sobriety’.42 Marian Armstrong died at the Mageough Home in 1912.

Elizabeth Ayson (née Ferguson) The daughter of John Ferguson and Agnes Atkinson, Elizabeth Ferguson was born around 1862 at Ballynacor in the civil parish of Seagoe, County Armagh, where her father held a small plot of land worth £1 15s annually. Elizabeth, together with her 20-year-old sister Hessie Jane, received an assisted passage on the British Queen, arriving at Westland in February 1884. They were both listed as machinists.43 Almost a decade later, on 28 September 1893, 29-yearold Elizabeth Ferguson married 44-year-old Scottish-born farmer Robert McIntosh Ayson and they settled at Warepa. Between 1894 and 1904 Elizabeth Ayson received at least four letters from her sister Mary Ann Gilpin, who resided at Lowmills, Balteagh, near Portadown. One letter from her brother Hugh also survives. 44 The letters largely document Mary Ann’s health problems, but also record the death of John Ferguson. Elizabeth Ayson died at Toiro on 4 November 1943 aged 83. She had three children still alive.

David Bell David Bell was born on 14 March 1861 at Barnice, Kells, County Antrim, the fifth son and eighth child of eleven, to Presbyterian couple John Bell and Elizabeth Gawn. David’s father and two of his brothers held 89.0.20 acres of land jointly at the time of the Primary Valuation with a total valuation of £49 25s.45 David Bell’s arrival in New Zealand is unknown, but it probably occurred in the early to mid 1880s. He settled in Otago at Duntroon, ‘the centre of a rich agricultural and pastoral district’,46 where three of his brothers

41

The Will of John Armstrong, ABAJ W4079 1915/1823, in N.A.W. Thom’s official directory (Dublin, 1912), p. 1431. 43 IM 15/546, N.A.W. 44 The letters were kindly provided by Lorna Neame, Tauranga. 45 The Primary Valuation was a valuation of property in Ireland undertaken between 1848 and 1864. The value was based on the productive capacity of the land and the potential rent of buildings. 46 Cyclopedia of New Zealand iv, 567. 42

13

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 3 Lizzie Ayson (formerly Ferguson) (Source: Mabel K. Neame/Lorna Neame)

were living. David’s only known surviving letter was composed in 1886 and sent to his eldest brother John.47 Unlike the alleged contentment of his brothers in New Zealand, David Bell’s letter displays a degree of disenchantment with the colony, particularly in relation to its landholding practices. David eventually departed for North America where the remainder of his life is unknown.

47

The letter was kindly provided by Tom Bell, Bangor, County Down. 14

INTRODUCTION

William Cardwell Born on 12 March 1845 at Tonaghmore, County Down, William Cardwell was the eldest of six children born to Presbyterian couple Samuel Cardwell and Jane Patterson. His father’s 33 acres of land in the Saintfield parish fetched an annual valuation of £18 10s. Prior to his departure from Ireland, William worked in Thomas Bassett’s shop in Church Street, Downpatrick, County Down. Also working in the store was David Morrow, who left for New Zealand in the late 1860s and established a hardware and machinery business with Samuel Bassett.48 When Samuel Bassett returned to Ireland in 1875 William accompanied him on the Blairgowrie back to New Zealand, arriving at Lyttelton on 24 August 1875. William Cardwell became the accountant of Morrow, Bassett and Company in Christchurch and his two known surviving letters, written in 1879 and 1880, document the company’s and colony’s difficulties.49 Possibly such negative depictions were to serve as a warning to his brother John who contemplated relocating to the colony following the death of his parents. John eventually made the voyage to the colony in June 1881 on board the City of Tanjore, accompanied by his wife. Tragically, William Cardwell’s life came to an abrupt and dramatic end when he drowned in the Avon River on 10 April 1888 at 43 years of age. Living with his brother and about to be married, William had been ill the week prior to his death. It was also later recorded that having undergone a ‘painful operation’ William became ‘very despondent’.50 John found his brother’s body lying in five feet of water and the inquest returned a verdict of ‘found drowned’. William’s will, made in May 1886, left his estate to John.51 By contrast with his brother, John Cardwell lived on until 15 July 1942 when he died at Riccarton, Canterbury, aged 88 years.

Philip Joseph Carroll Philip Joseph Carroll was born on 2 August 1888 at Nenagh, County Tipperary, the second child of Thomas and Annie Carroll, who had married in 1881 at the Catholic church in Templederry, County Tipperary. The family moved from Borrisoleigh to Nenagh and it was here in 1889 that Thomas 48 ‘Early history of the Bassett family’, compiled by Ken Bassett from data received from Mrs W. Bassett, Richmond. This and other information on the Bassett family was supplied by John Bassett, Downpatrick, County Down. 49 The Cardwell letters are in P.R.O.N.I., T/1698/1–2. 50 Press (Christchurch), 11 April 1888, p. 5. 51 At the time of his death William had £163 in the bank, property worth £660, and a life assurance policy worth £522. See The Will of William Cardwell, 1545/1888, in N.A.C., 171.

15

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 4 Philip Carroll (Source: Br Philip Carroll)

Carroll died at 32 years of age. Less than a year after his father’s death, Philip’s mother married John S. Gleeson. This marriage also produced two children. Prior to his emigration to New Zealand in 1912, which family tradition suggests was for health reasons, Philip was employed as a cleric for the Irish Railways. Once in Auckland he worked as an accountant. A series of letters document his blossoming relationship with 22-year-old [Bridget] Nina Ryan, a young woman of Irish extraction, and on 16 December 1918 Philip, aged 29, married her at St Patrick’s Cathedral, Auckland.52 The couple had three children between 1921 and 1924 and the following year Philip, suffering from a kidney disease, made a return visit to Ireland, primarily

52

These ‘love letters’ are in possession of Philip’s son, Br Philip Carroll, O.F.M., Auckland. 16

INTRODUCTION

for health reasons. During this trip he sent 23 letters to his wife which reveal him to be a devoted father and tender husband. 53 Despite his debilitating health, Philip provided extensive, engaging depictions of Ireland’s people and places. Philip Carroll arrived back in Auckland in December 1925. He survived for a further seven months, dying on 15 July 1926 aged 37. His daughter Maureen died six weeks later. Nina Carroll remarried in 1945 to Edwin Neil, a farmer from Otaua, Waimuku. Nina lived there until she died quite suddenly in 1955 at the comparatively young age of 59 years.

Brigid Dawson (née Quinn) Brigid Dawson was born on 30 May 1884 at Carricknagalliah, County Armagh, to Bernard Quinn and Ann Grant. On 12 January 1909 she married Peter Francis Dawson, an electrician, at the Catholic chapel in Carrickcruppin, near Newry, County Down. Together with her husband and four children, Brigid left Southampton on the Athenic on 1 May 1924, arriving in New Zealand on 9 June 1924. The family settled at Wanganui, where Peter had previously resided and it was from here on 30 July 1924 that Brigid wrote to her sister Ellen.54 Brigid’s letter provides an interesting account of the voyage and the family’s initial progress in Wanganui. Peter Dawson died on 19 March 1959 aged 78, while Brigid lived until 15 October 1981. She was then 97 years of age.

Annie Dempsey The second of three children of James Dempsey and Margaret Kelly, Annie Dempsey was born in January 1852 at Crecrin, County Carlow. Her father held just under 30 acres of land, worth £28 10s annually. Annie emigrated to New Zealand around 1882, accompanied by her aunt. She initially settled at Waihao in the Waimate region. On 30 November 1886 at Timaru’s Catholic church 28-year-old Annie Dempsey married 44-year-old Francis O’Brien, a native of Castledermot, County Kildare. They lived at Midfield farm near Waimate, South Canterbury, and had two children. Between 1883 and 1903 Annie sent at least ten letters back to her family. Her correspondence documents her surroundings and melancholy thoughts of home, as well as seeking news of home connexions. Her later letters also record her despair at her husband’s premature death in April 1891. Apart from Annie’s correspondence, a letter from her brother Michael, written in 1888

53 Photocopies of the Carroll letters were kindly supplied by Br Philip Carroll, O.F.M., Auckland. 54 The Dawson letter was kindly supplied by Joan Leonard, Auckland.

17

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

after his arrival in New Zealand, also survives.55 Annie lived on until 29 May 1929 when at 77 years of age she passed away at Waimate. Her will recognised a wide range of beneficiaries, including her sister Eliza Burke living at Furness, near Straffan, County Kildare.56

Margaret Dodd (née Monan) Margaret Dodd was born around 1846 at Ballyquintin, Portaferry, County Down, the sixth child of nine born to Patrick Monan and Sarah Quinn. Patrick’s holding was valued at £42 15s annually. Margaret’s brother and sister went to North America while Margaret emigrated in the 1860s to Australia where she met and married Irishman John Muir in June 1864. Some time in the 1870s Margaret moved to New Zealand and settled at Thames with John and their four children. In June 1877, after John’s death, Margaret married George Dodd, who went to the South African goldfields and apparently died there. Sympathy for his death was expressed in May 1889 in a letter written to Margaret from her parents.57 Their letter also documented the similar predicament faced by Margaret’s sister Isabella whose husband, a seal hunter, died tragically in Dublin. Margaret Dodd died in January 1892 at Waiatahi, Thames, from cancer of the uterus. She was 44 years of age and left four children.

Cornelius Dwyer Cornelius Dwyer was born at Dromkeen, County Limerick, around 1800. Unfortunately, the records for the Catholic parish of Kilteely only commence in 1815 so it has not been possible to construct Cornelius’s family background. The registers do, however, reveal that Cornelius was married to Mary Cooney and between 1824 and 1840 they produced at least six children. In September 1842 the family left Gravesend on board the Prince of Wales, arriving in Nelson in December that year.58 They settled initially at Nelson, where Cornelius’s mother Hanora wrote to them in 1846.59 The letter outlines family news at home and abroad and is noteworthy for reference to the pending potato famine. At some stage the Dwyer family moved to Waimea East, for it was here 55

The Dempsey letters were kindly provided by Michael O’Brien, Upper Hutt, and Noeline Lavin. 56 The Will of Annie O’Brien, N.A.C., CH145, PR 3059/1929. 57 This letter was kindly supplied by Leone Shaw. 58 The family’s details are recorded in the New Zealand Company emigration lists, 1841–1842, Part 2, Repro 4, in N.A.W. 59 The letters in the Dwyer series were kindly provided by Molly O’Dwyer, Auckland. I am also grateful to Dan Murphy for family information. 18

INTRODUCTION

in 1848 that Cornelius died of consumption at 48 years of age. His wife died at Richmond in April 1874 aged 73. Two letters sent to a descendant of Cornelius Dwyer’s also survive. The correspondent, Catherine Cunnane of Bekan, County Mayo, supplied illuminating information about farming in Ireland.

Ellen Anne Edwards (née Coghlan) Ellen Anne Edwards was born around 1840 at Foxford, County Mayo, the second child of Patrick Coghlan and Ellen McHale. Following her mother’s death, Ellen’s father married Cecilia Barrett and they had a further seven children. The date of Ellen’s arrival in New Zealand is unknown but on 6 October 1872 it was recorded that Ellen Coghlan, then a ‘dispenser’, married Henry John Carruthers Edwards, an English-born chemist, at Hokitika. The couple had three children before Henry’s death in October 1889. In June the following year Ellen received a letter from her stepmother commiserating with Henry’s demise and desiring Ellen to make a return visit to Ireland.60 She never did. Ellen relocated to Auckland where she died on 20 August 1921.

Patrick Farrell Patrick Farrell was born in 1892 at Ballinderry, County Tipperary, the son of Matthew Farrell and Margaret Nevill. In 1913 Patrick followed his siblings Michael, Hannah, and Jack to New Zealand. Having trained as a tailor following a hurling accident which shattered his leg, Patrick worked initially at Christchurch before settling at Greymouth. By 1920 two more siblings, Matt and Margaret, were also resident in New Zealand while another brother Jim lived in Australia. In 1917 Patrick added an ‘O’ to his surname, the only one of his family to do so. His sweetheart, May Sullivan, colonial-born of Irish parents, likewise added an ‘O’ to her surname. Both had met in Ireland when May’s family returned there before May ventured back to New Zealand in 1914. In October 1920 Patrick and May married and eventually had three children. Patrick died on 4 October 1959 at 67 years of age while May died in October 1970. Nine letters dated 1911 to 1920, incorporating a range of correspondence from family and friends, are drawn upon in this study.61 They include three

60

This letter was kindly provided by J. E. Coghlan, Nelson. All told, fifteen letters are contained in the Farrell letters lodged at A.T.L., 77–127. The remaining six letters were exchanged between Patrick and May. The family history is eloquently documented in Patrick O’Farrell, Vanished kingdoms: Irish in Australia and New Zealand, a personal excursion (Kensington, 1990).

61

19

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

letters exchanged between Patrick and his siblings, and five letters sent to May from friends in Ireland and one sent to her from a priest in New Zealand. The letters mostly contain news of family and friends at home and abroad, but are also valuable for their insights into the organisation of migration.

Michael Flanagan Michael Flanagan was born in 1839 near Termonfeckin, County Louth, the fifth child and son of ten children born to John Flanagan and Anne Maguire. His paternal grandfather, Patrick Flanagan, was a substantial landholder of

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Figure 5 Michael Flanagan (Source: Donald Murphy) 20

INTRODUCTION

118 acres valued annually at £138. At some point in time Michael, together with his brother Patrick, elected to voyage to Australia, for in July 1857 their grandfather recorded, ‘Paid Patrick and Michael going to Australia £14’. 62 The brothers went first to Liverpool where they connected with the ship Oliver Lang bound for Melbourne.63 Letters to and from the Flanagans in Australia indicate that Michael and Patrick went their separate ways though they were reunited and both elected to voyage to the goldfields in New Zealand in the mid 1860s.64 The letters sent from and within New Zealand offer a revealing insight into goldmining on the West Coast and Coromandel and the social networks attached to these districts. By April 1865 the Flanagans had settled at Hokitika on the West Coast and two years later moved to Charleston. Patrick then spent time on the Thames goldfields before deciding to join his brother Nicholas in the United States. Michael Flanagan remained in New Zealand until June 1871 at which time he departed for California. In 1890 he acquiesced to his father’s wishes and returned to Ireland. Michael died on 10 November 1904 while his brother Patrick died in California eight years earlier.

Rose Gamble (née McMullan) Rose Gamble was born on 18 June 1866 at Ballynastraid, Ballintoy, on the north coast of County Antrim, the fourth of eight children born to Zachariah McMullan and Catherine McCaughan, who had married at the Church of Ireland church in nearby Dunseverick in July 1858. Zachariah, together with his brother James, occupied just over 27 acres valued at £31 15s annually, at a place known locally as Bridgend in the townland of Ballynastraid. In September 1873 Zachariah McMullan died at the age of 54 and was buried in Dunseverick parish, church in the village of Lisnagunogue, west of Bridgend.65 Some four years later his widow Catherine married Charles Colgan at the Wesleyan chapel in Ballycastle, County Antrim, and relocated to Charles’s farm at Tonduff in the neighbouring parish of Billy.

62

Farm Account Book, 1841–1862, cited in Donald Murphy, The Flanagans of Tobertoby, Co. Louth (1989, privately circulated), p. 30. 63 Unassisted passengers to Victoria, fiche 130, P.R.O. Laverton. I am grateful to Professor David Fitzpatrick for this information. 64 Copies of the original letters were kindly provided by Donald Murphy. A complete transcript of the entire sequence can be found in Fr John Murphy and Donald Murphy (eds), The Flanagan letters, 1864–1909: a transcript of the correspondence of the Flanagan family of Tobertoby, Termonfeckin, Drogheda, Co. Louth (1997, privately printed). Again, I am grateful to Professor David Fitzpatrick for bringing this collection to my attention. 65 Zachariah McMullan’s headstone proclaims, ‘Here am I for thou callest me’ but contains conflicting details. His date of death reads 30 November 1873 and his age 53. I am grateful to Nevin Taggart, Antrim, for this information. 21

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 6 Rose and Charles Gamble (Source: Richard Herbert)

In 1882 Catherine’s son Zachariah McMullan emigrated to New Zealand, following in the footsteps of his maternal uncles who had arrived in the preceding decade.66 Upon arrival, Zachariah promptly set about nominating other members of his family. Rose travelled with her sister Catherine on board the Tongariro from Gravesend to Port Chalmers, arriving in September 1885.67 Another brother, James, emigrated later that year. Chain migration was also a feature of the family of Charles Gamble of Croaghmore, County Antrim, whom Rose McMullan married in June 1889 at the East Taieri

66 Hector McCaughan emigrated in about 1872 and was followed by his brother John in 1879. 67 IM 14/475, N.A.W.

22

INTRODUCTION

Presbyterian church.68 The couple settled at Riccarton where Charles had established a blacksmith and coachbuilding business. By 1902 the couple had six daughters. Rose and her brother Johnny were the recipients of at least seven letters sent from their mother between 1893 and 1901.69 Religious extracts pepper the correspondence, which depicts the declining health of Catherine Colgan, who was in her sixties during the decade in which she wrote. Her main motivation was to encourage Johnny’s return. On 29 March 1903 Rose Gamble died after contracting scarlet fever. She was 36 years of age. Her mother Catherine lived on until August 1911. Charles Gamble remarried in May 1905 and had a further five children before he died in June 1955 aged 95.

Samuel Gilmer Samuel Gilmer was born around 1842 at Mullaghanee, County Monaghan, the fourth of six sons of Hugh Gilmer and Margaret Dorothy (Dolly) Hamilton. When the Tithe Applotment Books were compiled, Hugh, together with his brother Thomas, held just over 13 acres of land at Mullaghanee in the civil parish of Clontibret.70 Both the size of their holding and their annual rent of £20 were the highest in the townland. Just before 1860 when the Primary Valuation was conducted, Hugh’s 16 acres fetched a valuation of £16. Following Margaret’s death, Hugh remarried in 1846 to Anne Smith, a union that produced one son, William. This may have been the stimulus for the migration of all but one of Hugh’s sons from his first marriage. Hamilton Gilmer appears to have been the first of the Gilmer brothers to leave Monaghan, arriving in Victoria, Australia in January 1861 on the Blue Jacket. His eventual relocation to New Zealand was perhaps prompted by the presence there of his maternal uncle, John Hamilton. In around 1864 Samuel joined Hamilton in New Zealand as did another brother, Henry. All were hotel proprietors on the West Coast, having presumably obtained their hotel apprenticeship from their uncle. At Greymouth on 20 July 1877 Samuel married Mary Isabella Martin and the couple had one daughter. Samuel Gilmer eventually moved to Wellington where he ran the Royal Oak Hotel on Cuba Street. It was from here in 1886 that he wrote to his brother William who had previously spent time in the colony before returning 68

For information on the Gamble family see Richard Herbert, The Gamble family of East Taieri: a brief account of the family’s origins at Croaghmore, in Antrim, Northern Ireland, their emigration and settlement at East Taieri, in Otago, New Zealand, in the 1880’s, and of the reunion held 6–7th April 1996 (Dunedin, 1996). 69 I am grateful to Richard Herbert, Wellington, for copies of the Colgan letters. 70 The Tithe Applotment Books were valuation books kept between 1823 and 1837 to record land-based taxes extracted from rural Ireland to support the Church of Ireland in rural areas. 23

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 7 Hamilton, Henry, Samuel, Robert, and John Gilmer (Source: Tasman Bays Heritage Trust/Nelson Provincial Museum, Tyree Studio Collection, 44799/3)

to Monaghan. A letter from William to Robert also survives.71 The letters, though containing evidence of harmony between the brothers, reveal serious dissension among wider kin networks. In the 1890s Samuel’s hotel was acclaimed as ‘one of the finest in the City of Wellington, and its proprietor, Mr Gilmer, is exceedingly popular’.72 Not everyone can have shared this view, for in 1906 Samuel appeared in court to give evidence against Francis Waddell who had assaulted him. Sam, with his ‘index finger, wrapped in a blue rag’ and his face ‘battle-scarred’ was asked if Waddell ‘had the chisel in his hand when he attacked him. Mr Gilmer said yes. Waddell had denied this, and here put in the remark that if he had had the chisel, Mr. Gilmer wouldn’t be there to give evidence.’73 Waddell was found guilty of assault and sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment with hard labour.

71 72 73

The Gilmer letters were kindly supplied by Juann Ryan, Auckland. Cyclopedia of New Zealand (Wellington, 1897), i, 665. New Zealand Free Lance, 24 March 1906, p. 3b. 24

INTRODUCTION

Samuel Gilmer, ‘one of the best known old-identities in the Dominion’,74 died at 83 years of age on 14 January 1925 and was buried at Karori. Indeed the Dominion newspaper claimed that ‘There are few men who possess a longer acquaintance with the city, and have been enabled to see its growth and development over such an extended period of time’.75

John Gilmore John Gilmore was born in approximately 1844 to Unitarian couple Robert Gilmore and Letitia Bailie on the Ards Peninsula, County Down. Robert was a blacksmith and had a house and forge at Ballyhemlin, a townland in Ballyhalbert parish, valued at £1 10s annually. John Gilmore apparently taught before spending thirteen years at sea, while his older brother Robert occupied a house and forge at Echlinville. In March 1874 their 25-year-old brother Andrew left Belfast, taking an assisted passage on the Queen of Nations, bound for Auckland.76 After his arrival he moved south to Tauranga where he established a blacksmith’s business. In 1876 Andrew was joined by 28-yearold John and their 18-year-old sister Alice who voyaged as assisted passengers on the Bebington.77 Both Andrew and Alice married in 1878, Andrew to Annie Prebble and Alice to County Antrim native James Fenton. John married in November the following year to Lurgan-born Letitia Emerson and they had four children. The Gilmore siblings wrote at least twelve letters to their family in County Down between 1874 and 1881.78 John penned five letters, Andrew six, and Alice one. The series emphasises the collective nature of their migration and their desire to be joined by brother Robert. Despite the concentration of Irish settlers in the region, the Gilmores made no discussion of their social networks, though several general comments were made about the Katikati settlers. Setbacks and advances characterised the Gilmore lives in Tauranga. In the early morning of Monday 5 April 1880 Andrew’s house burned down and he escaped through a window.79 Two years later he was an unsuccessful candidate for the council elections.80 John, meanwhile, was elected to a seat on the Tauranga Borough Council in 1894 and also served for 35 years on the management committee of the Presbyterian church. 74

Obituary of Samuel Gilmer in New Zealand Herald, 16 January 1925, p. 10. Obituary of Samuel Gilmer in Dominion, 15 January 1925, p. 6. 76 IM 15/118, N.A.W. 77 IM 15/263, N.A.W. 78 A letter from John’s daughter Lizzie also survives. The Gilmore letters are scattered in various locations. Six letters are lodged at P.R.O.N.I., T/1611/2–7. The remainder were kindly provided by Alice Gemming. 79 I am grateful to Jasmine Rogers for this information. 80 A. C. Bellamy (ed.), Tauranga, 1882–1982 (Tauranga, 1982), p. 26. 75

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IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 8 John Gilmore with his family, c. 1890 (Source: Alice Gemming)

In March 1913 Andrew died while John passed away on 21 July 1921 at 77 years of age. His obituary declared that ‘He always took a keen and intelligent interest in all public affairs, and was noted for his independent views and actions’.81 John’s funeral was attended by the mayor, councillors, and members of the local Masonic Lodge, and ‘concluded with Masonic public grand honours. All the services were of an impressive nature and formed a fitting tribute of respect to one of the finest of pioneers, who by his courage and perseverance helped in a very material degree to make New Zealand – and this district in particular – a rich heritage for those who dwell here today’.82 Alice 81 82

Bay of Plenty Times, 21 July 1921. Ibid. 26

INTRODUCTION

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Figure 9 Alice Fenton (formerly Gilmore), c. 1925 (Source: Alice Gemming)

Fenton remained alive until 21 May 1934 when, at 76 years of age, she died at Te Puke. Her obituary noted that ‘She was a woman of strong personality and could tell many interesting experiences of the early days’.83

Thomas William Hughes Thomas William Hughes was born on 1 October 1884 at Emlachfad, County Sligo, to Robert Hughes, a Royal Irish Constabulary (R.I.C.) officer, and Mary Jane Pakenham. Robert was a native of Newry, County Down, and at 20 years 83

New Zealand Herald, 23 May 1934, p. 12. 27

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 10 Thomas William Hughes (Source: Joan Graham)

of age in February 1873 had been appointed to the R.I.C. 84 Restrictions prevented him being stationed in his own county so Robert was transferred to County Mayo. At Balla eight years later, on 6 May 1881, he married Mary Jane Pakenham, whose parents were landed migrants from Pakenham Hall at Castlepollard, County Westmeath. Mary Jane’s parents, Thomas and Maria

84

A microfilm copy of Robert Hughes’s police record is in MFA 24/7 in N.A.I., with the original located at the Public Record Office, London, HO 184. I am grateful to Jim Herlihy for his advice in tracing Robert’s career. For guidance in tracing members of the R.I.C., see Jim Herlihy’s two publications The Royal Irish Constabulary: a short history and genealogical guide with a select list of medal awards and casualties (Dublin 1997) and The Royal Irish Constabulary: a complete alphabetical list of officers and men, 1816–1922 (Dublin, 1999). 28

INTRODUCTION

Pakenham, resided at Lagramuck in Balla parish, County Mayo, where Thomas was a gamekeeper. At the time of the 1901 Census their 16-year-old grandson Thomas Hughes was living with them. In June the following year, Thomas Hughes enlisted in the Navy and travelled extensively. By October 1920 he was engaged by the New Zealand naval forces.85 He married at Auckland in November 1922 to Dorothy Adeline Daniel and two years later was called up for service. The couple had four children. Between 1923 and 1937 Thomas received at least twelve letters from his father Robert, who supplied flattering, witty, lengthy, and evocative accounts of a range of private and public matters.86 A former constabulary officer, Robert Hughes emerges as a proud man and resilient in the face of adversity, particularly as his physical condition deteriorated. His wife Mary Jane and daughter Harriette continued the correspondence following Robert’s death in April 1928. Mary Jane died in July 1943 while her son Thomas died at Christchurch on 16 August 1968.

Mary Anne Keane Mary Anne Keane was born on 2 February 1859, the eldest of seven children of James Keane and Johanna Curreen of Ballinamultina, County Waterford, who had married in July 1858. Though little is known about Mary Anne’s grandfather, Joseph Keane, her great-grandfather, Matthew Keane, was returned as a substantial occupier of approximately twenty-six Irish acres at Shanacoole in the Clashmore civil parish. Together with his wife Mary Anne Bayley and three of their adult children, Matthew Keane lies in the family vault at Ferry Point, looking across the bay towards Youghal. On 23 August 1883 Mary Anne’s 20-year-old sister Bridget emigrated on board the British Queen bound for Otago.87 Whether Mary Anne arrived before or after her sister is unknown, but she was in Dunedin in November 1884 to witness Bridget’s marriage to Michael Harty, a native of Kerry. Mary Anne, meanwhile, married in May 1887 to Walter Lovells Victor Walsh. They lived at Petone and had four children. Mary Anne received eleven letters between 1886 and 1921 from her siblings in Waterford, London, and Chicago.88 Her sister Kate wrote nine letters, and brother John two. The letters depict the dispersal of the Keane

85 Full details of Thomas’s naval career are contained in his personnel file at the New Zealand Defence Force, Upper Hutt. 86 Copies of the original letters and genealogical information were kindly provided by Jennifer Hardiman, Wellington, Pamela Bates, Auckland, Joan Graham, Waiheke Island, and Gwenda Pakenham-Hughes, Nelson. 87 IM 15/444, in N.A.W. 88 Copies of the original letters were kindly provided by Gary Walsh, Germany.

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IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 11 Michael and Bridget Harty (formerly Keane) (Source: Vera Major)

family throughout the world and the haphazard attempts made to maintain sibling solidarity. They also contain signs of serious kin and neighbourhood strain. The letters depict the death of Mary Anne’s father James, who died in August 1902 at the Ballyheeny workhouse from a tumour of the kidney. On 1 November 1932 Mary Anne Walsh, ‘A very old and highly respected resident of Petone’ died ‘after a long illness . . . She was a charming old lady and by her straightforward and affable disposition won the trust and esteem of a host of friends. She was ever ready to help those in distress, and took a keen interest in the advancement and welfare of the town. She lived a good and useful life, and many today will regret her death.’89 Bridget Harty, meanwhile, died in September 1937. She had twelve children alive at the time of her death, ranging in age from 29 to 51 years.

Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (née Reid) Margaret Anne Kilpatrick was born on 5 July 1837 at Balleer, County Armagh, the eighth child of Robert Reid and the fourth and last child of his second marriage to Mary Anne Waddle. Robert was the schoolmaster at Balleer in the parish of Lisnadill between 1819 and the year of his death,

89

Mary’s obituary was kindly supplied by Gary Walsh. 30

INTRODUCTION

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Figure 12 ‘Such a comfortable house’: David and Margaret Anne Kilpatrick outside their Newton Road house in Auckland, c. 1903 (Source: Alan Kilpatrick)

1838. A notation in the family Bible claimed that ‘He lived respected and died lamented by all who knew him, having discharged the arduous task of instructing youth for the space of nineteen years in the Balleer School with great efficiency’.90 The premature death of Robert Reid must have caused significant hardship for the family. The total valuation of his landholding was £14 15s. On 19 February 1861 23-year-old Margaret married 29-year-old blacksmith David Kilpatrick, a native of Ballyards, at the Third Presbyterian church in Armagh. Together with their son William they emigrated to Auckland on the Indian Empire on 28 June 1862. They had a further three children. Between 1862 and 1916 Margaret wrote at least six letters back to home correspondents and received at least nine letters from a range of correspondents including her widowed mother, brothers, her husband’s siblings, and friends in Armagh.91

90 Joyce M. H. Reid (ed.), An introduction to the Balleer school copy book of letters (Belfast, 1977), pp xi–xii. 91 Margaret Anne Kilpatrick’s letters are lodged at P.R.O.N.I., D/3014/3/3/1–3 and D/3014/3/4/1–3. The letters sent to Margaret from Ireland were kindly supplied by Alan Kilpatrick, Gisborne.

31

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

The sequence provides intriguing depictions of male–female interaction and highlights the growing opportunities for young women who remained in Ireland. The letters also convey some of the religious fervour of the correspondents. Indeed Margaret herself was a regular parishioner at the old Wellesley Street church in Auckland, and a leader of the Young Women’s Bible Class. David Kilpatrick died on 23 March 1905 at Auckland and is buried with his daughter Elizabeth at Symonds Street cemetery. Death struck again more tragically in October 1906 when Margaret’s youngest son, Robert Ebenezer Reid Kilpatrick, died. Margaret went to live first with her daughter Mary in Dunedin, and then with her son William in Gisborne. It was here on 2 January 1922 that Margaret Kilpatrick died, at 84 years of age. She was buried at Taruheru cemetery. Her obituary praised her ‘broad Christian sympathies’ and observed that she was ‘Motherly, kind, and of deep personal piety’.92

Agnes Evelyn Lambert (née McNeice) Agnes Evelyn Lambert was born around 1842 in County Antrim. Her parentage has not been established but she may have been the daughter of Presbyterian couple John McNeice and Sarah Johnson, for the recipient of her letters was her half sister Susan Johnson, probably born at Parkgate, County Antrim. When Susan married John Jenkins in the Muckamore, County Antrim Presbyterian church in 1851, her father was recorded as Bunting Johnson and her place of residence was Rathmore, County Antrim. Agnes sailed from Liverpool in January 1860 on the Red Jacket. She was pregnant at the time and delivered a son just weeks after her arrival in Auckland. Her condition was allegedly the spur for her departure, though her reason for selecting New Zealand is unknown. Agnes became a live-in housekeeper for Kilkenny-born Michael Augustus Lambert, his wife, and their children. In October 1862, following the death of Michael’s wife, he and Agnes married. Together they raised his seven children, Agnes’s son, and their own six children, before Michael’s death in 1881. As a widow with four children under 14 years of age, Agnes was compelled to apply to the Auckland Hospital and Charitable Aid Board due to ‘want of employment’.93 Confronted with financial instability, Agnes actively sought aid and in 1888 the St Vincent de Paul Society heard that she ‘required assistance towards paying her rent . . . and also some assistance towards starting a shop’.94

92

New Zealand Baptist, March 1922, p. 43. Kindly provided by Alan Kilpatrick. Auckland Hospital and Charitable Aid Board, A493/65, p. 241, in N.A.A. 94 Minutes of St Vincent de Paul Society, cited in S. C. MacPherson, ‘“A ready made nucleus of degradation and disorder”? A religious and social history of the Catholic Church 93

32

INTRODUCTION

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Figure 13 ‘I have three fine sons and one little Girl’: the family of Agnes and Michael Lambert, c. 1877 (Source: Beverley Baird)

Agnes Lambert sent at least five letters home that have survived and a letter from her sister Isabella McNeice also exists.95 Agnes emerges as a discouraged, troubled woman, with the circumstances of her departure, early widowhood, and absence of kinfolk, presumably adding to her disenchantment. Despite such difficulties she remained resilient. She died, aged 84, on 27 June 1926 at Auckland Hospital, and was buried in Symonds Street Cemetery.

Edward Lysaght Born around 1840 in County Limerick, Edward Lysaght was the son of Edmund Lysaght and Mary Hayes. His father held 22 acres worth £17 5s annually at Clogher and later held land worth £28 at Knocknacarriga. Edmund was one of six sons of Michael Lysaght. In March 1837, together with his five brothers, Edmund was convicted of a Whiteboy offence and sentenced to

and community in Auckland, 1870–1910’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1987, p. 27. 95 Copies of the Lambert letters and family photographs were kindly provided by Beverley Baird, Newtownabbey, County Antrim. A letter sent from Isabella McNeice to Agnes was kindly provided by Garry Lambert, Auckland. 33

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

transportation to Australia. It transpired, however, that their accuser had committed perjury and the brothers were released in September 1837.96 Edmund Lysaght’s son Edward emigrated from Gravesend to Auckland in November 1862 on the Gertrude. In May 1864 he was joined briefly by his parents and brother William, having married Irishwoman Maria Callaghan at St Patrick’s Cathedral in Auckland in April. They had seven children. Edward Lysaght’s sister Ellen, meanwhile, voyaged to Auckland with cousins Catherine and Patrick Lysaght, arriving in February 1865. All told, seven letters sent to Edward Lysaght from his father and brother are known to have survived, together with a letter from Edward sent to his wife during a return visit to Ireland in 1872.97 Though younger than Edward, William’s tone was authoritative and challenging while their domineering father demanded filial obedience. Edward’s letter, meanwhile, suggests that he was a determined man with deep affection for his colonial family. There was clearly some conflict within the family, however, for in 1891 his daughter Mary Anne alleged that her mother Maria was a ‘Drunken old Prostitute’.98 While Edward Lysaght toiled as a labourer in Auckland, his brother William managed the family farm in Limerick and in May 1871 at Limerick’s Catholic Cathedral, 24-year-old William married Mary Crowe. Four months after the marriage William’s mother died while his father lived on until 1896. In 1899 Edward and Maria Lysaght, in their late fifties, entered the Costley Home for the Aged Poor in Auckland. An official inspection of the Home in 1903 found that ‘many inmates were in a lousy state, vermin literally dropping off them . . . . The Commissioners themselves noted that even fresh linen appeared half washed, that inmates’ clothing and bedding were thin and dirty, and that food was served up cold and inadequately cooked’.99 In such insanitary surroundings, it is hardly surprising that both Edward and Maria died that year. Two years later Edward’s sister, Ellen Bartley, suffering from diabetes, died, aged 61.

96 See W. R. Le Fanu, Seventy Years of Irish Life, p. 67. The Lysaghts were arrested after the claimant alleged they attacked his home and threatened the occupants. Despite denying the charge, the Lysaghts were found guilty and sentenced to transportation. They were, however, released when officials determined that their accuser had commited perjury at the trail. I am grateful to Jim Lycett of Canada and Joanne Mitchell, Geelong, Australia, for providing information about this trial. 97 The Lysaght letters were kindly provided by Reg Brown, Upper Kedron, Queensland. I am grateful to Professor David Fitzpatrick for bringing this collection to my attention and to Orma Fairweather for information about the Lysaghts in New Zealand. 98 Auckland Hospital and Charitable Aid Board Applications for Relief, 7 December 1891, YCAB A493/65, p. 804, in N.A.A. 99 Margaret Tennant, Paupers and providers: charitable aid in New Zealand (Wellington, 1989), p. 153.

34

INTRODUCTION

Elizabeth Macready Elizabeth Macready was born around 1844 in Belfast to Hugh Macready and Jane McMain. Her father, a teacher, occupied a house, worth £6 annually, at 143 Agnes Street in the Shankill parish of Belfast. Bessie had at least three siblings, two of whom died in their twenties. Shortly after 1870, the family moved to 20 Pine Street and it was here, in March 1874, that Hugh Macready died at 70 years of age. Two years later Bessie’s 26-year-old brother Charles died, followed a year later by her 64-year-old mother Jane. Bessie was the sole executrix of her estate valued at under £200.100 With no immediate family in Belfast, Bessie Macready emigrated from London to Lyttelton in December 1877 on the Pleiades to join her maternal aunts at Governors Bay. Bessie was a shopkeeper, housekeeper, teacher, and dressmaker. Though only three of her letters are known to exist, they reveal her to be a well-educated, optimistic, and determined woman.101 The recipients are unknown but it is probable that her cousin William Main of Ballooley in County Down was one recipient. Bessie Macready died in October 1926, aged 82, and is buried at St Cuthbert’s cemetery, Governors Bay.

Ann McCleland Ann McCleland was born in approximately 1815 to John and Elizabeth McCleland of Dunronan, in the civil parish of Desertlynn, County Londonderry. The family occupied just over three Irish acres of third- and fourth-class land, which fetched a tithe composition of 5s 6d in 1828. Ann sailed from Liverpool in March 1840 on the Martha Ridgway bound for Port Nicholson. Ann’s response to her departure is unknown but her mother wrote movingly of her daughter’s absence. This was followed by another letter the following year.102 Three years after her arrival, Ann McCleland wed German-born Johan Augustus Heldt at the Scotch church, Wellington. Heldt had arrived in the colony in February 1841 on the barque Jane from Valparaiso in Chile, where he had been goldmining. Following their marriage the couple returned there, had two children, and eventually paid ‘Eight Ounces & three quartis of Gold’ to return to Ireland on the Equator.103 They settled in a house worth £13 10s annually in the High Street at Moneymore, County Londonderry where they had a further seven children. In July 1859 the Heldts secured berths

100

Indices of Wills and Administrations for 1877 [407], in N.A.I. Bessie’s letters are lodged at P.R.O.N.I., D/1757/2/4–6, along with material relating to the Main family. 102 The two McCleland letters are in P.R.O.N.I., T/3034/1–2. 103 Master of Brig Equator, 10 March 1847, P.R.O.N.I., T/3034/8. 101

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IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 14 The Heldt family (Source: Lena Fraser)

on the Mermaid and returned to New Zealand, this time settling in Auckland. Ann was a milliner while Johan spent time in the goldmines and was a ‘well known cabinetmaker’.104 Ann died, aged 67 in December 1887. Only six children were then living.

Winifred McClennan (née Furlong) Winifred McClennan was born on 17 August 1864 at Kilflyn, County Kerry, the eldest child of Martin Furlong and Ellen Behan. An officer in the Royal Irish Constabulary, Martin Furlong resigned in June 1865 and the following month departed for New Zealand with his wife, leaving Winifred in the care of her aunt, Mary Shanahan. Fifteen years later, on 7 July 1880, 17-year-old Winifred emigrated on the Wanganui bound for Auckland. In 1885 she married Australian-born publican James McClennan. Winifred received at least three letters from her aunt Mary in the early 1890s.105 The correspondence primarily catalogues Mary’s overwhelming grief upon the death of her mother. It seems likely that soon after this Winifred and

104 105

Cyclopedia of New Zealand (Christchurch, 1902), vi, 98. I am grateful to Virginia McClennan, New Plymouth, for supplying these letters. 36

INTRODUCTION

her family went to Australia before returning to New Zealand in 1902, settling at Cambridge. James McClennan died in April 1938 and six months later, on 12 October, Winifred died aged 74. Both were buried at Hillsborough cemetery, Auckland.

James Moreland McClure James Moreland McClure was born around 1825 at Newtownbreda, County Down, to George McClure and Prudence Harrison, while brother [Alexander] Gordon was christened at the Church of Ireland parish church in Newtownbreda in October 1831. George was frequently absent, owing to his employment as a surgeon on vessels transporting convicts to the colonies. In 1847 Prudence died and two years later George reputedly died in Paris attending to the administration of the estate of his brother-in-law, William Harrison. William had died in 1848 and George’s children received their recently deceased mother’s share (£30,000) in trust.106 James and Gordon McClure borrowed from this legacy to finance their migration from London to Dunedin in July 1860 on the Evening Star. Just days before departure, James had married 25-year-old Emily Humphreys. The brothers sent at least five letters back to their sisters residing in Belfast, including three written before and during the passage.107 They settled initially at Invercargill, but moved to Ryal Bush in Southland following approval of their land grant. Their brother, William George McClure, was the first superintendent at the Southland Hospital but abandoned his wife and family to settle in Australia.108 James, meanwhile, continued his farming interests in Southland, but also pursued a political career. In 1867 he was elected to the Provincial Council for the Southland province. James Moreland McClure died at 50 years of age on 17 January 1875. The Southland Times heralded his ‘extensive knowledge’ and ‘fine taste in polite literature’. He was allegedly a man ‘who, in private life, won general esteem; but, in public affairs, he was noted as being a pleasant discursive speaker, with a facile, almost poetical mastery of language, rather than as a peculiarly practical man of business, with an arithmetical cast of intellect’.109 The fate of James’s brothers remains unknown, though it is thought that Gordon drowned at sea.

106

P.R.O.N.I., D/1746/6/1. The McClure letters are in P.R.O.N.I., D/1746/5/1–2 and D/1746/3/1–3. 108 I am grateful to Jim McClure, Christchurch, for genealogical information on the McClure family. 109 Southland Times, 20 January 1875, p. 2. 107

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David McCullough David McCullough was born on 1 September 1851 at Ballycreely, Moneyreagh, County Down, the eldest of three children of Unitarians Samuel McCullough and Margaret Connery, who had married at Moneyreagh’s Non-Subscribing Presbyterian church in November 1850. Samuel McCullough was relatively prosperous, for the Primary Valuation returned him as the occupier of 45 acres of land valued at £47 and a house worth £5 annually, his holding fetching the sixth highest valuation in the townland. In January 1875 David McCullough travelled from London to Dunedin on board the Andrew Reid, accompanied by his friend Alexander Young. They initially settled in Dunedin where David worked for the Albion Brewing and Malting Company. Eventually David elected to try his hand at goldmining on the West Coast. He sent at least five letters home, two of which were composed before his passage, one soon after his arrival, and two composed more than twenty years after his third letter.110 In 1899, less than two months after his last known surviving letter was written, David’s father died, at 77 years of age. His will specified that the farm was to be his wife’s and upon her death was to pass to David if he returned home within two years of his mother’s demise.111 Margaret McCullough died, at aged 75, in 1904. David never returned to Ireland and the estate passed to her grandson James Fisher. David McCullough emerges as a warm correspondent, preferring to hint at his return to Ireland rather than disappoint his parents with his desire to remain in the colony. Although little is known of his remaining years in the colony, some clues are available from his obituary. He was regarded as ‘one of the real old pioneer gold fossickers of the district . . . . Old “Davey” as he was popularly known, was a fine character and highly respected in this district.’112 David McCullough died at Waimangaroa on 17 December 1934, aged 83, and was buried at Orowaiti cemetery. His funeral expenses of £4 10s were paid by the Buller Hospital and Charitable Aid Board and a headstone was ‘erected by his admirers’.113

James Logan McIlrath In December 1834 John McIlrath, son of David McIlrath of Ballyminstra, married fellow County Down resident William Logan’s daughter Jane, of Tollynagee in the Presbyterian church at Killinchy, County Down. The couple settled on just over 27 acres of land at Balloo in County Down, worth £32 25s 110

The McCullough letters were kindly supplied by Moore Fisher Johnston and Sandra Gilpin, Comber, Newtownards, County Down. 111 A copy of Samuel McCullough’s will is in P.R.O.N.I., MIC/15c/2/43. 112 Westport News, 19 December 1934. 113 This information is contained in private correspondence in possession of Sandra Gilpin. 38

INTRODUCTION

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Figure 15 ‘A splendid likeness of us even to the house, horse and dog’: Emily, Edith, Jim, Eliza, Olive, and Frank McIlrath at Thorndale, Springfield, Canterbury, 1901 (Source: Jenny Langford)

annually, the fifth highest in the townland. Five children born between 1835 and 1845 were raised on the land, including the second and third sons James and Hamilton. In 1860 James and Hamilton, 24 and 21 years of age respectively, together with their friend William Martin of Newtownards, County Down, made their way to Liverpool where they sailed on the Donald McKay for Port Phillip, Australia. In September, after only a few months in Australia, James departed for the Otago gold diggings in New Zealand. He was followed three months later by Hamilton and another home compatriot, William James Alexander. The correspondence of the McIlraths incorporates 38 letters: of these, James wrote 23, Hamilton 14, and their father sent one letter to the brothers in 1862.114 The sequence spans forty-seven years and charts the impressions of the brothers from their early twenties until their sixties. Both emerge as confident, conversational, and curious correspondents.

114 Copies of James and Hamilton’s letters were kindly supplied by Jenny Langford, Wellington. A transcript of the series is in MS-Papers-5061, A.T.L. John McIlrath’s letter is in the Hazel Edith Conway Papers relating to the McIlrath family, ARC1993.45, Manuscripts Department, Canterbury Museum, Christchurch. In addition, letters from James and Hamilton’s children survive.

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IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

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Figure 16 Hamilton and Eliza McIlrath with two of their children (Source: Jenny Langford)

Eventually the brothers elected to purchase 100 acres of land at Lakeside in the Ellesmere district of Canterbury. Five years later James bought out Hamilton’s share and Hamilton purchased land at Thorndale Farm, Springfield. In June 1869 James married Agnes Matthews of Comber, County Down, and together the couple had ten children. Hamilton, meanwhile, married Eliza Atkinson in August 1872. James died at 63 years of age on 26 July 1901, eleven years after his wife, and was buried at Ellesmere public cemetery. Hamilton died on 24 July 1915, aged 75. His daughter Emily informed cousins in Balloo that ‘Altho’ our father was of a quiet disposition, and didn’t go out much among people, great respect was shown to him by the very large funeral he had’.115

Alexander Neil McKelvey In May 1866 at Draperstown Meeting House in the parish of Ballinascreen, County Londonderry, Robert McKelvey, a 24-year-old farmer from Trinamadan, County Tyrone, married Margaret Patterson Hanna, a 21-year-old spinster from Moydamlat, County Londonderry. They settled at Trinamadan 115

Emily McIlrath (Canterbury) to her cousins (Down), 12 August 1915. 40

INTRODUCTION

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Figure 17 Alexander Neil McKelvey (Source: Dave McKelvey/ Mary Slavin)

in Badoney Lower parish where Robert’s various holdings of more than 300 acres were valued at £35 10s. In 1874 he acquired a further 62 acres worth £17 5s per annum. That same year, in September, his fifth child and third son, Alexander Neil, was born. Alexander McKelvey was a physician at the Richmond Hospital in Dublin between 1896 and 1897 before being appointed Assistant Medical Officer at the District Asylum at Omagh, County Tyrone, in the townland of Cranny. He remained there until 1902 and was later remembered as ‘a most efficient, hard working and popular officer’.116 In February 1902 Alexander was initiated 116 This resolution was made on 16 January 1932 after news of Alexander’s death was received. It is in P.R.O.N.I., D/1692/4.

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IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

into the Masonic Gortin Lodge 994, of which his father was Worshipful Master, perhaps to ensure his progress in New Zealand where he ventured later that year on the Papanui.117 After arrival at Wellington Alexander McKelvey moved north to Auckland where he obtained employment at the Auckland Mental Asylum as assistant medical superintendent. By 1910 he was medical superintendent. Alexander continued his Masonic affiliations, joining Auckland Lodge No. 87 in 1907.118 He later became a master of the Auckland Lodge and a second principal of the Supreme Grand Royal Arch Chapter.119 In 1904 Alexander McKelvey married Muriel Grace Mills and the couple produced three children. Three of the letters he sent home between 1904 and 1913 have survived.120 They give an intriguing appraisal of the contrasts Alexander perceived between Ireland’s and New Zealand’s Masonic practices, work relationships, and mental health institutions. His calligraphy was clear and his style somewhat formal and courteous. Muriel died in 1928 and Alexander on 10 November 1931, aged 57. Both were buried at St Andrew’s church, Epsom, Auckland. Robert McKelvey, meanwhile, had died at 84 years of age in May 1923, leaving an estate valued for administration at £4,413 3s.

Oliver McSparron Oliver McSparron was born around 1837, to Archibald McSparron, who farmed nearly 50 acres of land at Umrycam, in the civil parish of Banagher, County Londonderry. Though Archibald’s combined holdings were valued annually at £7, his property fetched the eighth highest valuation among approximately forty holdings in the townland. Oliver departed from Liverpool in November 1859 with two friends on the White Star bound for Melbourne.121 Initially Oliver made his way to his maternal uncle, William Oliver. In September 1861 Oliver McSparron went to the New Zealand goldfields. His six surviving letters assert his own interests in electing to remain in the colony rather than succumb to his father’s repeated demands that he return to Umrycam.122 In 1883, the year after Oliver sent a terse letter home

117 I am grateful for this information to Alex Ward, Archivist of the Grand Lodge of Ireland. See also A short history of Gortin Masonic lodge no. 994. 118 Information provided by S. J. Cooper, Secretary, Grand Lodge of New Zealand Freemasons. 119 Auckland Star, 12 November 1931, p. 11. 120 The McKelvey letters are in P.R.O.N.I., D/1692/3/6–8. 121 Oliver is recorded as ‘Oliver Sparron’, aged 23. See index to inward passenger lists, British and foreign ports, Public Record Office of Victoria, Code B, Fiche 172, page 011, online at http://surnamesupersearch.com/passenger/victoriashipslists.htm. 122 Oliver McSparron’s six letters from New Zealand are lodged in P.R.O.N.I., T/2743/2/

42

INTRODUCTION

demanding money from his father, Archibald McSparron died, aged 72. Archibald had been living at Flanders, Dungiven, County Londonderry with his daughter and son-in-law. Oliver McSparron died on 13 February 1900 at Titipua, Mataura, aged 60, and was buried at Mataura cemetery.

James O’Neill James O’Neill, the second son of ten children, was born in about 1822, probably at Broad Street in the parish of St John’s, Limerick, to James O’Neill and Bridget Kennedy.123 Approximately twenty years later the family moved to Brunswick Street in Prior’s Land in the parish of St Michael’s, Limerick.124 James O’Neill senior promptly converted the building, originally the Stein Distillery, into a coach factory and built a new house beside it.125 A coachbuilder, James O’Neill senior presumably trained his son James, who was recorded as a wheelwright. James O’Neill junior married Bridget Ryan of Pallasbeg, County Limerick in August 1862 in Liverpool and emigrated on 25 August 1862 on the Shalimar. The couple settled at Auckland and it was from here that James wrote his only known surviving letter, composed eight months after his arrival.126 Besides documenting household havoc in Limerick, James’s letter to his brother Thomas relates details of the conflict brewing between Maori and colonial forces. His meticulously inscribed letter also provides a thoughtful, reflective account of conditions in Auckland and reveals him to be a responsible, ambitious man. James and Bridget O’Neill had thirteen children, but when James died on 14 April 1893 at Costley Street in Auckland, only six were still alive. Bridget O’Neill lived on for a further twenty-five years until her death, at 81 years of age, in October 1918.

1–6. The collection also contains letters sent by Oliver from Australia, among other family correspondence. 123 Baptisms between 1798 and 1825 and marriages between 1798 and 1821 are missing from St John’s parish registers. Consequently, the marriage of James and Bridget and the baptisms of their children Thomas, James, and Patrick are not listed. However, the surviving records list the remaining children of this couple. 124 Brunswick Street is now Sarsfield Street. See Gerry Joyce, Limerick city street names (Limerick, 1995), p. 19. 125 James O’Neill appears in the 1844 rate book for St Michael’s parish. Comparison with an earlier rate book suggests that his coach factory was converted from the Stein Distillery as the preceding and subsequent entries in both rate books are the same. 126 The original letter was kindly provided by Peter O’Sullivan, Belfast, and is now in my possession. 43

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

John O’Regan John O’Regan was born around 1831 in County Cork to farmer Florence O’Regan and Johanna Harrington. His father’s godfather was apparently Florence McCarty, a Catholic attorney, who was transported to Australia in 1799, and to whom John refers in his letter.127 John O’Regan went first to North America and arrived in New Zealand in approximately 1866. He spent his life as a miner and in 1899 wrote a letter from Barrytown on the West Coast to his great-niece Ellen O’Regan living in Montana in the United States.128 His very articulate letter reflects intently on his family connexions, Irish cultural issues, and surroundings in New Zealand. John O’Regan, resident of Cobden, died on 6 November 1910 at Grey River hospital aged 79. He was buried in Greymouth cemetery.

Ellen Piezzi (née Walsh) Ellen Piezzi was born around 1849 at Paulstown, County Kilkenny, to stonemason Thomas Walsh and Margaret Hennessy. She emigrated in approximately 1870, following in the footsteps of siblings already in New Zealand. In May 1872 Ellen, 22 years of age, married 28-year-old Swiss-Italian hotelkeeper Julius Piezzi at the Catholic church in Hokitika. The couple ran the Helvetia Hotel and had three children. Julius died in September 1876, leaving his widow to keep the hotel going. Between 1878 and about 1881 Ellen wrote at least seven letters to her brother-in-law Victer Piezzi and his wife in California.129 The letters provide interesting reflections on marriage, news of her children, and fluctuating business fortunes. In October 1883 Ellen, now aged 33, married 25-year-old Tipperary-born Dennis Maher at the Catholic chapel at Rimu, Westland and the couple had three children. They ran hotels on the West Coast and in Wellington. Ellen died on 16 November 1922 at 75 years of age. She was buried at Karori.

William Cunningham Quinn William Cunningham Quinn was baptised in the Catholic parish of Newry, County Down on 13 October 1840, the third child and second son of Bernard 127 Florence McCarty was transported to Australia for forming a committee and administering illegal oaths. See Anne-Marie Whitaker, Unfinished Revolution: United Irishmen in NSW, 1800–1810 (Sydney, 1994), pp 208–9. I am grateful to Barbara Hall for this reference. 128 This letter was kindly supplied by Dennis Regan, Washington, USA. 129 These letters were kindly supplied by Teresa O’Connor. An illuminating portrait of Ellen, written by Teresa, can be found in Sheryll Ofner (ed.), New Zealand women in the 19th century (Auckland, 1993), pp 40–2.

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INTRODUCTION

Disclaimer: Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook. To view the image on this page please refer to the printed version of this book.

Figure 18 Ellen Maher (formerly Piezzi and Walsh) in her hotel with her sons and daughter (Source: Teresa O’Connor)

Quinn and Eliza Cunningham. His brother Patrick, who also resided in New Zealand, was baptised in March 1836, ten months after the marriage of his parents. John Quinn, the major recipient of the brothers’ letters, was born in 1843.130 A further two children were born in the parish before the family relocated to Bessbrook in County Armagh, where a further two children were born. Eighteen-year-old William arrived in Auckland in 1859 on the Whirlwind. Three years later the War Spirit carried his 27-year-old brother Patrick to the colony. Little is known of the colonial careers of the Quinns but William appears to have made several trips across the Tasman Sea.131 In contrast with William’s repeated migrations across the Tasman, Patrick was a gumdigger, allegedly ‘the last refuge of the waster and the failure’, in Dargaville. 132 Gumdigging, a method to collect gum (or resin) from the kauri tree to produce high quality varnish, provided a form of social security for the elderly before and after the introduction of the pension. Patrick, a beneficiary of the pension

130

The Quinn letters are in P.R.O.N.I., T/1552/1–14. The letters sent from New Zealand are item numbers 10–14. 131 Patrick O’Farrell briefly discusses William’s Australian career in Letters from Irish Australia, pp 54–5. 132 Alan Mulgan, ‘Literature and landscape in New Zealand’, in New Zealand Geographer, ii (1946), p. 198. 45

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

from 1900 onwards, continued to dig for gum.133 His fondness for drink, however, caused brother William great consternation and seemingly created distance between the brothers as Patrick complained repeatedly to brother John that William rarely made contact. Unlike Patrick Quinn, William accumulated a significant amount of money and sent remittances home frequently. The money was undoubtedly welcomed by brother John, who resided at 130 Leeson Street, Belfast, with his wife and eight children ranging in age from 2 to 19 years. Sister Lizzie, meanwhile, lived at Station Road in Larne, County Antrim with her husband Alexander Jenkins. Their son, Robert, a stone cutter, followed in the footsteps of his uncles to New Zealand from where he informed the family of his uncle William’s death on 29 September 1909. When William died on 15 April 1916 at Auckland aged 75, he left a substantial estate valued at between £5,000 and £6,000. To Robert he bequeathed ‘my watches watch chains and personal clothing’ along with £200.134 Two days after his death, William Quinn was buried at Waikumete cemetery. His headstone provides a lasting testimony to his date of arrival in Auckland and his place and date of birth.135

Hugh Rea Hugh Rea was born on 8 December 1844 at Scrib, near Seaforde, County Down, in the parish of Loughinisland. The second of three children of William Rea and Catherine Newell, he was christened three days later in the Presbyterian church at nearby Clough. His father was most likely a son of Hugh Rea, born in 1805, who in 1828 held three acres of land at Scrib. It seems likely that his father died soon after the birth of Hugh’s brother William in 1850, for the Primary Valuation (see n. 45 above) records Catherine Rea at Ardtanagh as occupier of a house valued annually at five shillings. Elizabeth, the first-born child, was also residing here when she married Robert Gracey in 1864. Hugh Rea probably laboured locally before his decision to emigrate at 29 years of age. He sailed on 2 May 1874 on the Peter Denny which arrived at Port Chalmers on 26 July. Little is known of Hugh Rea’s life, but he laboured in the colony and held property at Clinton, ‘the centre of a very extensive district devoted to agriculture and pasturage’.136 It was from here in 1905 that he wrote to his brother William, complaining about the transient nature of 133

Patrick’s claim was received on 27 March 1900 and his pension certificate was granted eight months later. See Record Book, Old Age Pension Claim Register, BADC ACC 497/63, in N.A.A. The Minute Book Old Age Pension, BADC ACC A497/64, p. 101, contains reference to Patrick’s character, considered good, and confirmation of his age. The Old Age Pension Certificate Register, BADC ACC 497/67, p. 1, records Patrick’s death. 134 The Will of William Cunningham Quinn, 10628, in N.A.A., BBAE 1569. 135 William’s grave is in Area 3, Block 5, Lot 99a. 136 Cyclopedia of New Zealand (Christchurch, 1905), iv, 750. 46

INTRODUCTION

colonial employment and hinting at his desire to return to Ireland.137 Although William has not been traced in Irish records, their sister Elizabeth married William McCance in 1878, following the death of her first husband. By the time of the 1901 Census 56-year-old Elizabeth was yet again widowed, living with her 19-year-old son William and 11-year-old grandson Matthew McReynolds. On 11 July 1916 71-year-old Hugh Rea died at Clinton from obstruction of the bowels. The Otago Witness recorded the death of ‘Hughie Ray . . . a resident of many years standing. He was a very handy man with tools, and his services were always in demand with people of the town and district. He was a very clever exponent of the violin and mouth organ, and spent much of his time in company with these cherished instruments.’138 Hugh’s will stipulated that his effects were to be divided between his brother William and sister Elizabeth.139 The following year Elizabeth received £58 11s 5d from the Dunedin law firm, Duncan and McGregor.140 A Clinton correspondent also informed her that Hugh ‘will be greatly missed by a number of friends and especially by the children in the township with whom he was a general favourite.’141

Daniel Strong William Strong married Mary Ryan in February 1849 and they had six children including the fifth, Daniel, who was born on 5 July 1859 at Lehinch, County Tipperary. Tragedy struck in 1864 when publican William died. His assets included a public house at the Ferry, near Lehinch, that Daniel was due to inherit. Family tradition, however, indicates that mismanagement led to the pub being sold.142 Following not only his father’s early demise, but also that of his mother and siblings, Daniel found comfort with the family of his father’s brother, Denis. Indeed it was cousins who wrote to Daniel Strong between 1883 and 1905.143 His cousin John wrote four letters while John’s brother Martin wrote two and their sister Lizzie one. The sequence indicates strong affection between the cousins at home and abroad and conveys the satisfaction of the Strongs who remained in Ireland.

137

The Rea letter is in P.R.O.N.I., D/965/1. It is incorrectly indexed as being to his brotherin-law William McCance. 138 Otago Witness, 19 July 1916, p. 27. 139 The Will of Hugh Rea, 3712, in N.A.D., D239/166. 140 Duncan and McGregor (Dunedin) to Mrs Elizabeth McCance (Scrib), 23 May 1917, in P.R.O.N.I., D/963/3. 141 Letter to Mrs McCance (Seaforde) from an unknown correspondent (Clinton), 10 July 1916, in P.R.O.N.I., D/965/2. 142 Joyce Elaine Strong (compiler), History of the Stronge family (1972), privately circulated. 143 Photocopies of the Strong letters were kindly provided by Ginny Dow, Nelson. 47

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

In November 1902, almost two decades after Daniel’s departure in 1883, he married 31-year-old Mary Mulkere at the Catholic church in Onehunga, Auckland. The couple resided at Selwyn Road, Howick, where their four children were born. Daniel pursued his trade as a carpenter and was elected to the Roads Board for the local council. Daniel Strong died on 17 June 1951, aged 91, and was buried at the Catholic cemetery in Howick. His wife died four years later.

Catherine Sullivan (née Riordan) Catherine Sullivan was probably born on 17 March 1831 to Patrick Riordan and Mary Brown of County Limerick. Little is known about her own family, but her husband John Sullivan, whom she married on 17 November 1855, was the son of Cornelius Sullivan and Mary Lynch who had married in July 1827 at the Catholic church in Ballingarry, County Limerick. John was brought up in a house located in the townland of Common, County Limerick rented for 10 shillings per annum. The Sullivans were assisted to New Zealand with their five children in January 1874 on the Wennington bound for Wellington.144 The family settled at Foxton, Manawatu, renowned for its flax industry and known colloquially as the town of ‘flax, fires and fleas’.145 The sole surviving letter from Catherine Sullivan so far to come to light was written to her brother-in-law in Ballingarry in 1905 informing him of his brother John’s death in April the year previous.146 Three years before her death on 22 February 1917 at 86 years of age, Catherine had relocated to live with her daughter Margaret and son-in-law Michael Spelman at Raumai, Palmerston North. Catherine Sullivan’s obituary proclaimed her as ‘one of the pioneers of the Foxton district . . . well known and highly respected throughout the Manawatu’.147 Catherine was buried two days after her death beside her husband at Foxton.148

Patrick Owen Treanor Patrick Owen Treanor was possibly born at Golan in the Donagh parish, County Monaghan, to Owen Treanor and Ellen McKenna. His brother James,

144

IM 15/95, N.A.W. H. G. Boniface, ‘Foxton: its site and changing function’, M.A. thesis, University of New Zealand, 1947. 146 A copy of this letter was kindly supplied by Catherine Habes, Cincinnati, Ohio. I am also grateful to Suzanne Lisson, Canada, for information relating to the Sullivan family. 147 Manawatu Daily Times, 24 February 1917, p. 4. 148 Catherine is in Plot 20a, Block II, R.C. while John is in Plot 20, Block II, R.C. 145

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INTRODUCTION

born in 1852, came to New Zealand before Patrick Owen and worked as a policeman. Patrick Owen, meanwhile, worked at Wanganui and in 1876 wrote two letters to another Patrick Treanor, possibly his cousin from the townland of Knocknagrave, County Monaghan.149 His correspondence was largely preoccupied with his work patterns. Details of Patrick Owen Treanor’s death have not been traced, but his brother James died in October 1917. This chapter has briefly indicated that migration was not necessarily an alienating or atomising life event. Rather, it was frequently undertaken within the context of extensive connexions provided by family and neighbourhood, which served to lessen the dislocating effect of relocation. The chapter has also explained the importance of personal letters as a source for exploring the process and experience of migration. Finally, it has outlined the basic demographic features of the migrants and letter writers incorporated in this study and provided brief biographical snapshots of the migrants who feature in the book. We now turn to consider the broader Irish migrant flow to New Zealand. Demographic and official evidence will be used to map the origins and patterns of settlement of Irish settlers in New Zealand as well as indicating the overarching factors facilitating the movement of natives of Ireland to New Zealand. Personal correspondence will be used to assess a range of reasons for leaving Ireland; the ways in which letter writers encouraged Irish migration to New Zealand; and the response of migrants and their loved ones to the process of separation.

149

Copies of these letters were kindly supplied by Leone Shaw, Hamilton. 49

1

‘It is well to gain that shore’ Irish migration and New Zealand settlement In 1886 William Gilmer found himself contemplating leaving Ireland. Gilmer, a member of the Church of Ireland who farmed sixteen acres at Mullaghanee in County Monaghan, was motivated to move by deteriorating local and national economic conditions. As he complained vociferously to his brother Robert in New Zealand, ‘Ireland is a very miserable place. We have not had more than 2 or 3 dry days at once all this summer. Harvest is ripe & no dry weather to cut it. The potato crop is a failure. Things are looking very bad indeed’ (Gr 2). Official reports confirmed that in Monaghan in 1886, ‘The yield of the potato and oats crop is far short of what it was last year. This is owing to the late spring, too much rain during the summer, and a want of ripening in the autumn. The heavy rain of last month had the effect of diminishing the oat crop considerably, and damaging the potato crop.’1 This mounting malaise in Monaghan prompted a disheartened William to reconsider his future: ‘I’ll have to do something else than farming in Ireland, working & spending money for nothing’ (Gr 2). Another of William Gilmer’s New Zealand-based brothers, Samuel, commiserated about the disturbing circumstances in Ireland: ‘I can imagine all there is to be done on a few acres of Irish soil is not much after all said and done’ (Gr 1). Disgruntled with his situation in Ireland, William considered his options. Australia as well as New Zealand was obviously in his mind for brother Samuel queried cheekily, ‘As for you going to new south wales is new zealand not large enough for you.’ Samuel then suggested, ‘Would you not have been better here only for your health’ (Gr 1). Just as crucial as William’s wellbeing, however, was his wife’s employment opportunities: ‘If I had only middling health I wd not stop long in Ireland, altho, I’ve fair health lately. If I thought my wife could get a situation as teacher, I wd very soon leave here’ (Gr 2). Unlike many correspondents in Ireland, William Gilmer had already spent a period of time in New Zealand where five of his six brothers had settled, their staggered chain migration seemingly following the settlement of their maternal uncle, John Hamilton.2 Once in the colony, William nominated his

1 Tables showing the Extent in Statute Acres and the Produces of the Crops for the year 1886, p. 121, in H.C.P., 1886 [C 4902], lxxi. 2 John Hamilton’s arrival has not been ascertained. I am grateful to Ian Cameron and John

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cousins Abigail and Robert Gilmer to join him. His payment of £7 towards the fare and outfitting of his cousins enabled them to voyage to New Zealand on the Ionic in 1884.3 Five years earlier a relative of the Gilmers, Dorothea Hamilton, had sponsored her sister Sarah.4 Poor health sparked William’s return to Ireland, rather ironic given that New Zealand was frequently acclaimed as a healthy environment. Yet despite his previous colonial experience, William Gilmer was unwilling to depart Ireland without first seeking the advice of his brothers. As he asked Robert, ‘wd you advise me sell & go back again’ (Gr 2). Robert’s response is unknown, but Samuel urged William to migrate, though he was careful to stress that William should ultimately make the final decision: ‘my advice would be to you if health better and no encumbrance that Greymouth should suit you well but please yourself. You should be the best judge off those matters’ (Gr 1). Despite Samuel’s restrained recommendation, this time William Gilmer elected to stay in Ireland. His final decision was probably shaped by inheritance factors. As the youngest son of his father Hugh’s second marriage, William inherited the family holding at Mullaghanee while the eldest son of Hugh’s first marriage, James, was probably assisted in purchasing a nearby farm. The remaining Gilmer sons of the first marriage, without a future claim on the family holding, were presumably provided with a sum of money to pursue their colonial careers. As Kevin Whelan has aptly put it, ‘One for the farm; the rest for the road.’5 The Gilmer letters and family background raise a number of issues that are of central importance when it comes to analysing Irish migration to New Zealand. They not only highlight the critical involvement of family and friends at home and abroad in the process of migration, but they also reveal that a number of factors, encompassing individual, household, regional, and global perspectives, shaped the decision to migrate or remain in Ireland. This chapter sets the stage for the investigation of Irish migration to New Zealand by providing a brief overview of migration from Ireland during the nineteenth century and of settlement patterns of Irish migrants in New Zealand. It focuses closely on the crucial influence of schemes of nominated and assisted migration, and examines the role of propaganda in disseminating information about New Zealand. Migrants’ multitude of reasons for leaving Ireland are gleaned from clues contained within the letters and from biographical information. The encouragement provided by pioneering migrants Hewstone for information relating to the Gilmers which will appear in their forthcoming privately published The hotel that Sam built: the story of Samuel Gilmer and the Royal Oak Hotel Cuba St, Wellington, New Zealand. 3 William’s nomination, dated 6 February 1884, is held in IM 12, no. 656, N.A.W. Details of his cousins appear in the Ionic’s shipping register, IM 15/470, N.A.W. 4 Dorothea Hamilton’s nomination was dated 28 March 1879, IM 11, no. 3238, N.A.W. 5 Kevin Whelan, ‘The famine and post-famine adjustment’ in William Nolan (ed.), The shaping of modern Ireland (Cork, 1986), p. 160. 51

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

for their kin in Ireland to join them is examined, as is the impact of departure on migrant and non-migrant correspondents. It is argued that correspondents were more likely to be attracted to New Zealand by personal recommendations rather than propaganda, but that they required access to assisted passages to facilitate their relocation. In a succinct summary of Irish migration between 1801 and 1921 David Fitzpatrick has observed, ‘Growing up in Ireland meant preparing oneself to leave it.’6 Estimates of migration from Ireland support this statement, since approximately eight million Irish men and women left their homeland between 1815 and 1914.7 This outflow saw the country’s population decline from a nineteenth-century peak of more than eight million people in 1841 to approximately four million in the early twentieth century. The intensity of this movement varied throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries with around one and a half million leaving before the famine of the late 1840s, two and a half million going between 1846 and 1855, and four million departing between 1856 and 1914. This Irish dispersal was part of a larger European movement which saw an estimated sixty million people leave their homelands between 1815 and 1930.8 Ireland lost proportionately more migrants than other European countries during this period9 and, unlike most other nations until the later nineteenth century, women contributed almost half the Irish outflow.10 Regrettably, poor statistical data in Ireland prevents any more conclusive remarks being made about the size of the Irish outflow and the numbers settling at various destinations. One illuminating insight into the rate, timing, origin, and destination of Irish migration, however, is the Registrar General’s returns of direct migration from Ireland.11 Analysis based on this source, though, should acknowledge at least two factors. First, it fails to include those migrants who travelled initially to Britain before voyaging further afield. Second, it is a relatively late source for any analysis of worldwide Irish migration. Despite these drawbacks, Fitzpatrick has utilised this source for the years 1876–85 to

6

David Fitzpatrick, Irish emigration, 1801–1921 (Dundalk, 1984), p. 30. The following figures are drawn from David Fitzpatrick, Irish emigration, 1801–1921 and his articles ‘Irish emigration in the later nineteenth century’ in Irish Historical Studies, xxii (1980–1), pp 126–43; ‘Emigration, 1801–70’, pp 562–616, and ‘Emigration, 1871–1921’, pp 606–42, in W. E. Vaughan (ed.), A new history of Ireland: Ireland under the union, I, 1801–70 (vol. 5) and II, 1870–1921 (vol. 6), (Oxford, 1989 and 1996). 8 Dudley Baines, Emigration from Europe, 1815–1930 (Basingstoke and London, 1991), p. 7. 9 Ibid., table 3, p. 10. 10 Fitzpatrick, Irish emigration, p. 7. 11 This source is useful for examining migration to New Zealand direct from Ireland. It does not, however, include the larger stream of migrants that made their way to New Zealand from British or Australian ports. 7

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highlight contrasts in the regional origins of Irish migrants selecting different destinations.12 The Irish favouring the United States tended to originate from the western counties in the province of Connacht, while Canada attracted migrants from Ulster and the north-west. Irish settlers in Australia, meanwhile, were largely drawn from the south-west and the north midlands. New Zealand, on the other hand, can be seen as a ‘hybrid’ of Irish emigration to Australia and Canada with its strong Ulster–Munster bias (see Table 1.2 below).13 This dispersal of Irish migrants to various destinations is evident in the letters exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland. Despite the extent of Irish migration to Britain, letters sent between Ireland and New Zealand only occasionally commented on British-based associates. In 1895 Martin Strong informed his cousin Daniel, ‘Willie Ducie our first cousin is a very big fellow in Manchester’ (St 3). This may suggest that most contacts of these families went further afield or that acquaintances closer to home were less likely to have attracted comment. Migration to Britain was also a different type of migration in that it tended to be of a short distance and temporary duration.14 Irish migration to Australia, on the other hand, was discussed frequently, not only because of its proximity to New Zealand, but also because of its popularity among migrants. In 1866, 19-year-old William Lysaght reported from his father’s farm at Doon Glebe, County Limerick, ‘There are a great number leaving this country for Australia and other places. In fact very few people are here now’ (Ly 1).15 Australia was also the favoured destination of several acquaintances of John Armstrong, the second son and seventh child of John Armstrong senior, a Church of Ireland clergyman at Kiltoom, County Roscommon. Among John’s acquaintances in Australia was Adair Crawford, whom John described as ‘a fast young man’ (Ar 2).16 A female acquaintance, on the other hand, returned to Ireland only to voyage once again to Australia prompting John to conclude, ‘Rebecca must be fond of Colonial life to be induced to go to Australia a second time’ (Ar 2). These extracts not only highlight Irish dispersal to Australia, but also the circular movement of some migrations, a theme discussed further in Chapter 7.

12

David Fitzpatrick, ‘Irish emigration in the later nineteenth century’. Ibid., p. 133. 14 For the Irish in Britain see T. M. Devine (ed.), Irish immigrants and Scottish society in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries (Edinburgh, 1991); Graham Davis, The Irish in Britain, 1815–1914 (Dublin, 1991); Donald M. MacRaild, Irish migrants in modern Britain, 1750–1922 (Basingstoke and London, 1999); Enda Delaney, Demography, state, and society: Irish migration to Britain, 1921–1971 (Liverpool, 2000). 15 This population decline is recorded in official statistics for the county, which reveal a decrease of just under 12 per cent during the decade 1861–71. 16 Patrick O’Farrell has termed Crawford a ‘genteel wastrel’. See Letters from Irish Australia, 1825–1929 (Kensington, 1984), p. 51. 13

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Australia also proved popular among migrants from the civil parish of Lisnadill in County Armagh. In 1863 Presbyterian widow Mary Anne Reid informed her migrant daughter Margaret Kilpatrick of ‘a great many that is going to Queens land this week’ (Ki 2). This depopulation is captured in statistics for the townland of Balleer, which suffered a population decline of 22 per cent in the 1860s. That Australia was a relatively popular destination for natives of Armagh is evident in statistics that reveal the county was the eleventh largest supplier of migrants to Australia between 1841 and 1914.17 The attractions of Australia and the mobility of Irish migrants continued to be discussed in the twentieth century. As County Tipperary migrant Michael Farrell wrote cheerfully from Morven, South Canterbury, in 1911 to his brother in Tipperary, ‘I met Tom Houlihan from Ballinderry. He’s a divel has travelled all over Australia’ (Fa 1). Correspondents in Ireland were also keen to discuss the movement of acquaintances to North America, evidence of a transnational consciousness. As Elizabeth Walker revealed concisely from Armagh in 1864: ‘Lucy Reaney & her sister Nancy are gone to America’ (Ki 4). The importance of Canada as a destination was further outlined in 1880 when Sophy Lang reported on the settlement of many Armagh acquaintances there: ‘William Ross and his family is in manatobia in America. Jane Fraim and her son is in America too’ (Ki 7). In all, estimates suggest that between the early seventeenth century and 1922 approximately seven million Irish settled in North America.18 We have no firm data on the numbers of Irish arriving in New Zealand, but they presumably contributed a significant minority of the approximately 112,000 migrants recorded as sailing direct to New Zealand from British ports between 1844 and 1871.19 Most of these early arrivals were English, while Scottish migrants supplied more than double their representation in Britain. Despite being outnumbered by the English and Scots, by 1867 the Irish, at 13 per cent, peaked in their representation of New Zealand’s overall population. That same year, natives of England contributed 30 per cent of the population, while Scots supplied 16 per cent of the population. Thirty per cent of the population was also composed of those born in New Zealand. This peopling of New Zealand continued and during the period 1871–91 natives of Ireland supplied around one-third of the 115,578 recorded assisted newcomers to the country.20 Yet a focus on migrants sailing direct from Britain and Ireland fails to acknowledge that many migrants, especially in the period

17 See David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995), figure 5, p. 15. 18 Kerby A. Miller, Emigrants and exiles: Ireland and the Irish exodus to North America (New York, 1985), p. 3. 19 See Donald Harman Akenson, Half the world from home: perspectives on the Irish in New Zealand, 1860–1950 (Wellington, 1990), table 5, p. 22. 20 Derived from the annual migration returns found in A.J.H.R.

54

IRISH MIGRATION AND NEW ZEALAND SETTLEMENT

before 1870, came to New Zealand via Australia after either a short stopover or a period of residence there.21 The mobility of goldminers is particularly striking in this regard.22 Despite the considerable numbers of miners who crossed the Tasman Sea, it was a movement renowned for its flux, as many returned to Australia or moved on to other destinations within the diaspora. Throughout this period of immigration, few vessels sailed to New Zealand direct from Irish ports. Consequently, most Irish who made their way to New Zealand did so via English and Scottish ports. This may contribute to an underestimate of the number of natives of Ireland arriving in New Zealand, for some Irish sailing from Britain may have stayed in Britain for a short time and given their last place of residence there, rather than place of birth to shipping agents. The decline in Irish arrivals from the late nineteenth century onwards reflects the ending of assisted passages to New Zealand, which were only implemented thereafter during certain years. The proximity of Ulster migrants to Scottish ports provides one explanation for their strong representation among Irish migrants in New Zealand (see Table 1.1). The perception by Ulster Protestants of New Zealand as a Protestant country may also have influenced their decision to settle there. Canterbury, for instance, was a strongly ‘Protestant’ province. This helps explain its popularity for Ulster migrants who, based on their county affiliations, were disproportionately Protestant.23 Assorted studies have also revealed that migrants from Munster were heavily represented among New Zealand’s Irish settlers. Donald Akenson’s figures, based on direct migration from Ireland, exclude those Irish voyaging from British and Australian ports, but still point to an Ulster–Munster dominance.24 Examination of shipping registers to particular provinces also shows this two-province dominance.25 There are, however, difficulties in relying on shipping registers to ascertain the origins of Irish migrants in New Zealand. Most analyses based on this source exclude those Irish who paid their passage to New Zealand and may

21

Akenson, Half the world from home, p. 21. See Lyndon Fraser, ‘Irish migration to the West Coast, 1864–1900’, in N.Z.J.H., xxxiv (2000), pp 197–225, and Terry Hearn, ‘The Irish on the Otago goldfields’ in Lyndon Fraser (ed.), A distant shore: Irish migration and New Zealand settlement (Dunedin, 2000), p. 84. 23 R. H. Silcock, ‘Immigration into Canterbury under the provincial government’, M.A. thesis, University of Canterbury, 1964, tables 7 and 8; K. A. Pickens, ‘Canterbury, 1851–81: demography and mobility, a comparative study’, Ph.D. thesis, Washington University, 1976, table 1:50, p. 222. 24 Akenson, Half the world from home, table 22, pp 70–1. See also Terry Hearn, ‘Irish migration to New Zealand to 1915’ in Fraser (ed.), A distant shore, pp 55–74. 25 Assisted Irish arrivals in Otago and Southland, for instance, were composed primarily of Ulster and Munster migrants. See Seán G. Brosnahan, ‘The greening of Otago: Irish [Catholic] immigration to Otago and Southland 1840–1888’ in Norma J. Bethune (ed.), Work ‘n’ pastimes: 150 years of pain and pleasure, labour and leisure (Dunedin, 1998), table 1, p. 62. 22

55

35.84 45.64 9.72 8.80

43.48 35.27 14.87 6.37

1871–90

1876–90 40.46 40.04 7.06 12.44

Brosnahan (Otago and Southland) 1872–88 33.2 26.4 10.5 6.9

1850–1900

Weber (NZ-wide)

53.3 27.3 10.8 9.6

1855–76

Silcock (Canterbury)

53.2 20.8 17.3 8.8

1851–81

Pickens (Canterbury)

28.61 45.18 16.94 9.27

1864–1900

Fraser (West Coast)

Notes: Akenson’s figures are based on the Irish Registrar-General’s figures for 15,394 Irish residents leaving Ireland with the intention of settling permanently in New Zealand between 1876 and 1890. Hearn’s figures are based on the death certificates of a random sample of 706 Irish migrants, paying and assisted, arriving nationwide between 1871 and 1890. Brosnahan’s figures are based on a sample of 7,907 assisted Irish migrants who arrived in Otago and Southland between 1872 and 1888. Webber’s figures are based on the death certificates of 1,000 Irish migrants dying before 1900. Silcock’s figures are based on 5,134 migrants arriving in Canterbury between 1855 and 1876. Pickens’s figures are based on the places of birth of Canterbury’s population at the Registrar-General’s office in conjunction with biographies contained in the Cyclopedia of New Zealand, vol. 3 (Christchurch, 1903). Fraser’s figures are based on the death certificates of 1,587 Irish-born dying on the West Coast.

Sources: Donald Harman Akenson, Half the world from home: perspectives on the Irish in New Zealand, 1860–1950 (Wellington, 1990), table 22, pp 70–1; Hearn’s statistics were kindly made available by Dr Terry Hearn of the Ministry for Culture and Heritage who, together with Dr Nicholas Bayley, is conducting an analysis of British and Irish migration to New Zealand to 1945. The project is funded by F.O.S.T. and supervised by the Chief Historian; Seán G. Brosnahan, ‘The greening of Otago: Irish [Catholic] immigration to Otago and Southland 1840–1888’ in Norma J. Bethune (ed.), Work ‘n’ pastimes: 150 years of pain and pleasure, labour and leisure (Dunedin, 1998), table 1, p. 62; Heather Webber, ‘Emigration: Ireland to New Zealand, 1850–1900, a demographic study’ in Hylton Tucker (ed.), GRINZ yearbook 1995 (Lower Hutt, 1995), p. 25; R. H. Silcock, ‘Immigration into Canterbury under the provincial government’, M.A. thesis, University of Canterbury, 1964, tables 7 and 8; K. A. Pickens, ‘Canterbury, 1851–81: demography and mobility, a comparative study’, Ph.D. thesis, Washington University, 1976, table 1:50, p. 222; Lyndon Fraser, ‘Irish migration to the West Coast, 1864–1900’ in N.Z.J.H., xxxiv (October 2000), table 2, p. 204.

Ulster Munster Leinster Connacht

Hearn (NZ-wide)

Akenson (NZ-wide)

Table 1.1 The provincial origins of New Zealand’s nineteenth-century Irish population (%) according to assorted studies

IRISH MIGRATION AND NEW ZEALAND SETTLEMENT

also record the last area of residence rather than place of birth for migrants. Death certificates, on the other hand, provide us with a more perceptive insight into provincial origins. Local use of this source has also thrown up intriguing regional variations. On the West Coast, for instance, Munster was strongly represented, supplying almost half of all those Irish migrants settling on the Coast.26 A nationwide analysis of death certificates by Heather Webber, on the other hand, shows a more even Ulster–Munster balance. Her sample, however, is regrettably confined to those Irish dying before 1900.27 Our best insight into the provincial origins of the Irish in New Zealand is therefore the statistics arising from the research of Terry Hearn. Analysing death certificates until 1935 for those Irish who arrived between 1871 and 1890, Hearn’s results point to an Ulster dominance, with Munster a close second.28 Despite some regional variation in the settlement patterns of Irish migrants from Ulster and Munster in New Zealand, it is clear that Irish men and women from Leinster and Connacht were less inclined to settle in the colony. Nonetheless, examining county origins illuminates some important features about the provincial supply of these Irish migrants to New Zealand (see Table 1.2). Galway, for instance, supplied a sizeable number of migrants, compared with other Connacht counties, while Dublin was particularly dominant among Leinster counties. Nationwide, according to Hearn’s figures, the counties of Antrim, Cork, and Down dominated. Yet figures for the entire country obscure those cases where strong links can be identified between certain sending counties with specific recipient regions. Clare, for instance, rates poorly as a supplier of migrants to Otago, Southland, and Canterbury, but provided many migrants to the West Coast, reflecting its connexions with the Australian colonies of Victoria and New South Wales. Antrim and Cork, meanwhile, were particularly prolific providers of Irish migrants settling in Otago and Southland. Canterbury, on the other hand, contained a substantial representation from Down, a connexion reflected in the naming of local Canterbury areas with County Down place names.29 This link between the colony’s provinces and certain counties in Ireland suggests the vital importance of kin and neighbourhood networks in directing migrants to destinations favoured by pioneering migrants. How does this county situation compare with Australia? Only two counties appear in the top ten rankings for both countries (see Table 1.3). Comparison

26

Lyndon Fraser, ‘Irish migration to the West Coast, 1864–1900’ in N.Z.J.H., xxxiv (2000), table 2, p. 204. 27 Heather J. Webber, ‘Emigration: Ireland to New Zealand, 1850–1900, a demographic study’ in Hylton Tucker (ed.), GRINZ yearbook 1995 (Lower Hutt, 1995), p. 25. 28 Statistics were kindly made available by Dr Terry Hearn of the Ministry for Culture and Heritage who, together with Dr Nicholas Bayley, is conducting an analysis of British and Irish migration to New Zealand to 1945. The project is funded by the Foundation for Research, Science and Technology (F.O.S.T.) and supervised by the Chief Historian. 29 The most obvious example is Killinchy. 57

35.84 10.22 2.68 2.58 4.84 1.87 1.71 5.48 1.61 4.85

45.64 10.93 7.58 8.50 8.13 7.92 2.58

MUNSTER Clare Cork Kerry Limerick Tipperary Waterford

30.72 4.45 9.68 4.30 5.22 4.00 3.07

46.69 12.60 4.76 2.92 6.14 3.84 1.23 5.53 1.38 8.29

1871–90

1876–90

ULSTER Antrim Armagh Cavan Down Donegal Fermanagh Londonderry Monaghan Tyrone

Hearn (NZ-wide)

Akenson (NZ-wide)

40.04 3.33 13.94 6.23 8.18 4.48 3.88

40.46 10.86 2.72 1.75 3.34 5.25 1.26 8.38 1.14 5.75

Brosnahan (Otago and Southland) 1872–88

20.8 2.9 3.7 5.7 2.9 4.1 1.5

53.2 8.8 8.8 2.5 16.6 2.9 2.5 3.2 1.5 6.4

1851–81

Pickens (Canterbury)

27.3 1.8 4.4 11.3 2.5 6.0 1.3

52.2 8.1 7.5 2.9 13.6 4.5 2.2 3.3 1.4 8.7

1855–76

Silcock (Canterbury)

Table 1.2 The county origins of New Zealand’s Irish population (%) according to various studies

45.18 11.22 8.38 5.10 6.49 11.85 2.14

28.61 7.37 1.89 1.76 4.03 4.16 1.20 4.16 1.70 2.33

1864–1900

Fraser (West Coast)

9.72 0.51 2.17 0.36 2.15 0.82 0.50 0.11 0.63 0.56 0.66 0.62 0.63

LEINSTER Carlow Dublin Kildare Kilkenny King’s Co. Longford Louth Meath Queen’s Co. Westmeath Wexford Wicklow

15.66 0.61 6.30 0.61 1.69 0.92 0.77 0 0.46 0.46 1.84 1.08 0.92

6.91 4.15 0.61 0.46 1.54 0.15 7.06 0.42 1.59 0.16 1.39 0.52 0.27 0.13 0.33 0.27 0.82 0.77 0.39

12.44 8.09 0.46 1.54 1.11 1.24 17.3 1.7 5.3 0.8 0.1 1.9 0.5 0.1 0.8 1.5 0.4 0.9 3.3

8.8 5.8 0.3 1.3 1.1 0.3

Notes: See Table 1.1. Regrettably, county origins are unavailable for Webber’s sample.

8.8 4.83 0.57 0.65 2.10 0.65

CONNACHT Galway Leitrim Mayo Roscommon Sligo

Table 1.2 continued

10.8 1.2 1.8 0.2 0.8 1.6 0.5 0.4 0.2 1.3 0.4 0.8 1.6

9.5 6.7 0.4 0.9 1.1 0.4 16.94 0.63 4.28 0.82 2.58 1.89 0.69 0.69 1.51 1.07 0.95 0.82 1.01

9.27 5.04 1.64 0.95 1.01 0.63

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

Table 1.3 Top ten county origins of Irish migrants to New Zealand and Australia New Zealand

Australia

Antrim Cork Tyrone Down Dublin Londonderry Limerick Armagh Clare Kerry

Clare Tipperary Limerick Kilkenny King’s Co. Fermanagh Cavan Wicklow Westmeath Carlow

Sources: New Zealand order is based on Hearn, table 1.2, p. 21; see Table 1.1 above. Australian origins are based on Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, figure 5, p. 15.

shows that New Zealand’s Irish settlers were more prone to originate from Munster and north-east Ulster counties whereas Australia was the preferred destination of migrants from Leinster and south Ulster.30 The strong Ulster migration to New Zealand from the dominant Protestant counties of Antrim and Down meant that a large number of migrants in New Zealand were Ulster Protestants.31 Ascertaining their numbers along with those of the entire Irish Protestant group, however, is problematic, as neither shipping registers nor census data link birthplace with religious affiliation. Faced with this situation, Akenson used census figures for Catholicism as an indication of the total multigenerational Irish Catholic group. A national, census-based estimate, it suggests that three-quarters of New Zealand’s Irish ethnic group were Catholic.32 Ascribing all Catholics as predominantly Irish is permissible as most Catholics in New Zealand in the period under discussion were Irish-born or of Irish descent. As one commentator observed perceptively in 1885, ‘Sweep the Irish people from the colonies and Catholicism is no longer there’.33 Yet though it can be argued that between 1880 and 1950 the migrant generation and the entire ethnic group had close to the same proportions of Catholics, this estimate is not directly comparable to sources for the migrant generation. Scholars utilising such records for the migrant generation have reached other conclusions about the religious makeup of the Irish in New Zealand.

30

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, pp 15–16. Antrim’s Protestant population in 1861 was 75.2 per cent while Down’s was 67.5 per cent. 32 Akenson, Half the world from home, p. 68. 33 New Zealand Freeman’s Journal, 7 August 1885, p. 11. 31

60

IRISH MIGRATION AND NEW ZEALAND SETTLEMENT

Drawing upon 426 entries for Irish-born patients in the Auckland Hospital Register of Patients, Alasdair Galbraith has estimated an Irish Protestant component of 43.67 per cent, but his study is not representative of Auckland’s migrants.34 A higher proportion of Irish Protestants settled in Canterbury, with one study based on the marriage certificates for 897 Irish men in Canterbury showing that 60.5 per cent of them were Protestant.35 Nationwide examination of death certificates, meanwhile, also shows this Irish Protestant prominence, with 40.7 per cent of 1,000 natives of Ireland dying between 1850 and 1900 being Protestant.36 The relevance of these findings can be challenged due to their localised nature, their confinement to the period before 1900, or both. Yet recent analysis of death certificates for Irish migrants throughout the entire country for a broader time-frame affirms these results (see Table 1.4). The results outlined in Table 1.4 were obtained by random sampling of the death certificates of those Irish migrants arriving during selected time periods. For instance, those Irish arriving between 1871 and 1890 were traced in death certificates until approximately 1935. What is most striking from these results is their consistency over time for those Irish arriving during the nineteenth century. Thereafter, with the ending of widespread financially assisted migration, Irish Catholics were less inclined to voyage to New Zealand.

Table 1.4 The religious affiliation of Irish Migrants to New Zealand, 1840–1945, based on figures supplied by the Ministry for Culture and Heritage

1840–1852 1853–1870 1871–1890 1891–1915 1916–1945

Protestant

Catholic

43.24 46.20 44.16 50.60 66.28

56.76 53.80 55.84 49.40 33.72

Source: Figures were kindly supplied by Terry Hearn of the Ministry for Culture and Heritage.

34 Alasdair Galbraith, ‘New Zealand’s “invisible” Irish: Irish Protestants in the North Island of New Zealand, 1840–1900’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1998, p. 61. A study of Cork migrants in Auckland, though also unrepresentative of Auckland’s Irish, shows that one-third of Cork migrants were Protestant. See Angela Tindall, ‘From county Cork to the southern corinth: aspects of Corkonian immigration to Auckland in the mid to late nineteenth century’, M.A. thesis, University College Dublin, 1996. 35 Pickens, ‘Canterbury, 1851–81’, p. 192. 36 Webber, ‘Emigration: Ireland to New Zealand’, p. 25.

61

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

Table 1.5 Number and percentage of the Irish-born in New Zealand, 1858–1921 Year of census

Number of Irish

% Foreign-born

% Total population

1858 1861 1864 1867 1871 1874 1878 1881 1886 1891 1896 1901 1906 1911 1916 1921

4,554 8,831 20,317 27,955 29,733 30,255 43,758 49,363 51,408 47,634 46,037 43,524 42,460 40,958 37,380 34,419

11.19 12.37 15.52 18.11 18.25 17.10 18.21 18.52 18.47 18.32 17.59 16.96 15.04 13.40 12.24 11.01

7.66 8.92 11.80 12.80 11.60 10.10 10.56 10.08 8.89 7.60 6.55 5.63 4.78 4.06 3.40 2.82

Having discussed the origins and religious affiliation of Irish migrants in New Zealand, we turn now to consider their profile in New Zealand. Using official data, it is possible to trace the number of Irish present in New Zealand at census time, in order to observe their changing representation in New Zealand society. As Table 1.5 shows, natives of Ireland peaked in their representation of the total colonial population in 1867, while the Scots reached their zenith in 1864 and the English in 1861. As a proportion of the foreign-born the Irish peaked in 1881 while in sheer numbers they reached their maximum in 1886. At this time, when the colony’s population had just exceeded half a million people, there were 51,408 Irish, 54,810 Scots, and 125,657 English. From 1891 onwards the number of Irish-born in New Zealand declined, as did their proportions among the foreign-born and total population. What was the gender ratio of these figures? Though Irish women supplied around half the entire outflow from Ireland during the period under discussion, their male counterparts outnumbered them in New Zealand. In 1874 there were 679 Irish women for every 1,000 Irish men in the country; by 1881 this had risen to 784. Variations on this overall gender ratio, however, are discernible in provinces. In 1881 in Wellington, Christchurch, Otago, and Auckland there were more than 800 Irish women for every 1,000 Irish men, while there were just over 400 Irish women for every 1,000 Irish men in Taranaki. In Australia, by contrast, Irish women supplied roughly equal 62

IRISH MIGRATION AND NEW ZEALAND SETTLEMENT

Table 1.6 Birthplaces of persons (exclusive of Maori) in provincial districts, 1881

Auckland Taranaki Wellington Hawke’s Bay Nelson Marlborough Canterbury Westland Otago

Ireland

Scotland

England

New Zealand

Other

Total

12.08 8.41 6.86 9.63 8.47 7.73 11.14 16.08 9.22

6.25 4.79 6.27 6.85 6.38 5.75 7.58 7.20 21.62

25.06 29.67 27.9 29.71 22.01 23.54 31.19 16.15 16.56

48.43 47.45 49.02 41.75 52.79 57.02 43.62 39.51 42.37

8.18 9.68 9.95 12.06 10.35 5.96 6.47 21.06 10.23

100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0 100.0

Source: Census, April 1881, Table VI, p. 196.

numbers to their male counterparts and even outnumbered Irish men in New South Wales and Victoria until the mid 1850s.37 These provincial contrasts for the gender ratio are also recognisable in overall Irish settlement in New Zealand. Taking the year 1881 (see Table 1.6), provincial summaries reveal that the country’s 49,363 Irish-born were strongly represented among the foreign-born populations at Westland and Auckland, 26.57 per cent and 23.43 per cent respectively. Large proportions of the Irishborn could also be found in Canterbury (19.75 per cent), Marlborough (17.99 per cent), and Nelson (17.94 per cent). In Otago, Hawkes Bay, and Taranaki, meanwhile, the Irish supplied around 16 per cent of the foreign-born population, while they were significantly underrepresented in Wellington at 13.45 per cent. A closer look at county and borough settlement data also reveals divergent trends. In 1881 almost half of the Irish-born population returned in county data settled in eight of New Zealand’s sixty-three counties,38 while 41 per cent of the Irish-born settled in four of the country’s sixty-five boroughs.39 Several of these counties and boroughs also contained strong proportions of Irish settlers. More than 30 per cent of foreign-born settlers in the counties of Tauranga, Kawhia, Manukau, Grey, and Whakatane were Irish, while in the boroughs of Onehunga, Ross, Greymouth, Kumara, Hamilton, and Westport the Irish formed at least a quarter of the foreign-born settlers.

37

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 13. 14,029 out of 31,047 Irish settled in Selwyn, Eden, Geraldine, Manukau, Ashley, Southland, Ashburton, and Grey. 39 The boroughs and the number of their Irish-born residents were Auckland (2,106), Dunedin (2,076), Wellington (1,714), and Christchurch (1,475). 38

63

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

This regional distribution probably arose not only because of the economic activity and opportunities prevalent in certain regions, but also as a result of the various schemes of nominated and assisted settlement designed to populate New Zealand. Such schemes were undertaken to attract not just people, but also their economic resources to the colony. As with the Australian colonies, these schemes varied according to time and place. Before 1870 provincial administration districts competed in their attempts to seduce British and Irish migrants by offering assisted and nominated passages or land grants. Canterbury and Wellington provincial governments, for instance, tried to entice settlers with assisted passages, the migrants aided to an amount equal to that paid in cash, though this amount was repayable after settlement in the colony. Auckland, on the other hand, offered 40 acres of land for migrants 18 years and older paying their passage, with 20 acres for every migrant aged 5–18 years.40 Among those migrants availing of this incentive were County Londonderry native Ann McCleland and her Swiss-born husband Johann Heldt. When they contemplated their return to New Zealand from Ireland in 1858, more than a decade after they had left the colony, Robert Greer, the New Zealand emigration agent at Newry, advised Johann, ‘vessels sail to Auckland every month. You will get 40 acres – your wifes 40, and every Childs to 18 years of age 20 acres each.’41 Greer further recommended, ‘when you arrive in Auckland, go direct to the land office and don’t allow any broker or other person to obtrude officious services on you’.42 During the 1860s soldiers participating in the New Zealand Wars were also promised land grants. The New Zealand Immigration Land Act in the 1870s, meanwhile, provided land to the value of £20 for migrants aged between 18 and 60 paying their passage. Among the migrants in this study participating in this scheme were 24-yearold Moneyreagh migrant David McCullough and his companion Alexander Young. They obtained certificates from the Agent-General in London approving their individual applications for a £20 land grant in the colony.43 Migrants were also encouraged to voyage to New Zealand through nomination schemes. By this arrangement friends and family already settled in the colony raised the cost of the passage. As William Lysaght demanded of his brother from Limerick in 1866, ‘dont forget to send on the Passage order’ (Ly 1). Analysis of Auckland’s nomination register, which survives for the years 1859 to 1871, reveals that William Lysaght failed to receive assistance at this time. His father and brother were, however, responsible for paying the passage of other family members from Limerick to Auckland in 1864.

40

See W. D. Borrie, Immigration to New Zealand, 1854–1938 (Canberra, 1991) for details of these various schemes. 41 Robert Greer (Newry) to Johann Heldt (Co. Londonderry), 10 Nov. 1858, P.R.O.N.I., T/3034/11A. 42 Procedures for issue of land certificates, 5 July 1859, P.R.O.N.I., T/3034/14. 43 David and Alexander’s grants are noted in IM 17/1, p. 20, at N.A.W. 64

IRISH MIGRATION AND NEW ZEALAND SETTLEMENT

Examination of this register also shows that two-fifths of applications were directed to Ireland.44 Lyndon Fraser’s analysis of the nominations sent from the West Coast between 1872 and 1873 and from Canterbury between 1872 and 1874 reveals similar findings, with around two-thirds and two-fifths of all nominations from these districts sent to Ireland.45 Such analyses, however, may underestimate the number of Irish migrants availing of nominated passages, as these investigations are generally unable to account for Irish migrants living in Britain who received nominations.46 Nonetheless, manipulation of the nomination system meant that specific areas in Ireland developed vigorous links with particular destinations in New Zealand. Auckland, for example, received many migrants from the civil parishes of Templetuohy and Templemore in County Tipperary,47 while the West Coast had vibrant connexions with Ennis in County Clare, Castlegregory in County Kerry, and Birr in Kings County. Christchurch, meanwhile, developed robust associations with Headford and Tuam in County Galway, Fermoy in County Cork, Tralee in County Kerry, Nenagh in County Tipperary, and Ballycastle in County Antrim.48 That nominated migration was of great significance for Irish migrants is evident in the testimony given by Jeremiah Hurley, a recent arrival at Wellington in 1873: ‘no Irish emigrants are coming here except those who receive nominations from their friends in this Colony, and those who have heard from their friends here that there is such a man in London as an AgentGeneral for New Zealand’.49 The following decade a piece in the New Zealand Freeman’s Journal concluded, ‘It is almost needless to state that the cost of passage to Australia and New Zealand is in all cases so high that unless the whole, or almost the whole, be met by a system of free or very liberally assisted emigration, those countries are closed to emigrants.’50 Appointed as part of the introduction of the central government’s Immigration and Public Works Act of 1870, which provided for assisted

44

68/64, Register of Assisted Immigrants, Repro 4711/448, N.A.A. Of 369 applications sent from New Zealand between 1859 and 1864, 133 (36 per cent) were directed to Ireland. 45 Fraser, ‘Irish migration to the West Coast’, p. 212; Lyndon Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead: Irish Catholic immigrants in nineteenth-century Christchurch (Auckland, 1997), p. 47. 46 Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead, p. 37. 47 These parishes were in south Tipperary whereas Bruce S. Elliott’s pioneering study of Irish Protestants in Canada was confined to migrants arriving from north Tipperary primarily between 1818 and 1855. See Irish migrants in the Canadas: a new approach (Kingston and Montreal and Belfast, 1988). 48 68/64, Register of Assisted Immigrants, N.A.A.; Fraser, ‘Irish migration to the West Coast’, p. 212; Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead, p. 44. 49 Mr J. Hurley to the Under Secretary for Immigration, 29 November 1873, A.J.H.R., 1873, D-1D, p. 17. 50 New Zealand Freeman’s Journal, 10 August 1883, p. 8. 65

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

migration, the Agent-General was a key individual in organising migration to New Zealand. Based in London, he was responsible for ensuring that the quotas desired by the New Zealand government were fulfilled. Under the scheme married couples were to pay £5 in cash each as their full fare, or sign a promissory note scaled according to the amount they had paid.51 Single men could pay £8 in cash for their full passage, or pay £4 in cash with a promissory note of £8 payable after settlement. Single women aged 15–35, in contrast, were offered free fares in an effort to balance the sexes, while the demand for skilled labourers also resulted in free passages for suitable men in some years.52 In Victoria, South Australia, and Tasmania, by contrast, there was little assistance after the 1860s. When the Sullivan family of Ballingarry, County Limerick, migrated to New Zealand in 1874 on the Wennington, the colonial government paid their passage of £65.53 That the Sullivan family comprised five daughters was an asset at a time when couples with families, especially daughters, were encouraged to the colony. The Sullivan migration also appears to be a collective undertaking. They were joining their daughter Mary who had emigrated two years earlier and Catherine Sullivan’s two brothers were also in the colony. Schemes for settlement were also proposed by individuals and companies. The migration of many north of Ireland migrants to Katikati was one such initiative. It was arranged by George Vesey Stewart, a native of Ballygawley, County Tyrone, who travelled to New Zealand in search of suitable land for his proposed settlement.54 He eventually decided on land near Tauranga and drawing on his local networks set about attracting settlers with connexions to the Orange Order in Ulster. Each settler aged 18 and above was to receive 40 acres while 20 acres were granted for each child aged 12 to 18 years. On 8 June 1875 the Carisbrooke Castle sailed from Dublin, followed by the Dover Castle. John Gilmore, writing home in 1876 after his arrival at Tauranga, revealed, ‘there is a Large settlement of North of Ireland people about from 10 to 25 miles from here. The are called Stewarts settlers. The have in all 10,000 acres for ever. Rent Nothing’ (Ge 6). The success of this settlement prompted Stewart to gain another block of land. As John wrote in 1877: There is a man going home to Belfast in a few days from here that has bought 10,000 acres. His name is George Vesey Stewart. He took out a ship of emigrants nearly 2 years ago from Belfast. Here they are on the same block as this. He is now

51

For instance if £1 in cash was paid then the promissory note was for £8. If £4 paid then promissory for £2. 52 For details of this scheme see John Morris, ‘The assisted immigrants to New Zealand, 1871–79: a statistical study’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1973. 53 IM 15/95, N.A.W. 54 For details of the settlement see Akenson, Half the world from home, pp 123–58. 66

IRISH MIGRATION AND NEW ZEALAND SETTLEMENT

going to get settlers for the land. I think will cost about 30s per acre half the money to be paid down, the remainder in 4 years, the Government to pay all passage and the tenant to pay for the land. (Ge 7)

This settlement, however, was not as promising as the first. As Andrew recounted conspiratorially in July 1878, G. V. Stewart is Expected to arrive soon with No. 2 Settlers from Belfast. It is Expected that He will get Foul play through Inducing them out to so Barran Hills & Making them pay so Dear for the Land. Keep it Quiet for news Like this Flies Like Telegraph. (Ge 9)

Nevertheless, further land at Te Puke was purchased which resulted in settlers arriving in six stages between 1880 and 1884.55 The influx of migrants from the north of Ireland to New Zealand was due not only to Vesey Stewart’s scheme but also to strenuous promotional efforts largely confined to Ulster. As Alasdair Galbraith suggests, such bias was due to the prejudice surrounding the settlement of Irish Catholics in New Zealand, and therefore an attempt to recruit a ‘superior’ class of Irish migrant.56 This bias was also evident in the location of emigration agents, placement of advertising, and the provision of shipping, all of which favoured Ulster.57 In 1873, for instance, of forty-six local agents in Ireland, only nine were located outside of Ulster.58 This Ulster prejudice was also recognisable in the confinement to the north of newspaper advertisements,59 promotional tours, and dissemination of literature about New Zealand. The suggestion that an emigration poster be placed in all railway stations as ‘the most economical and the most thorough [advertising] that could be adopted in this country’60 was also seemingly restricted to Ulster railway stations. Such bias suggests a sectarian element which deemed Ulster Protestants better settlers than southern Catholics. Despite the partiality towards the north, one commentator wrote to the Minister of Immigration, Daniel Pollen, in 1874 expressing surprise at the oversight of migrants from Ulster and the recommendation of small farmers from Antrim, Down, and Armagh: ‘The class of people I

55 These ships were the Lady Jocelyn and Oxford in 1880, May Queen in 1881, Northumberland in 1883, and Northumberland and Lady Jocelyn in 1884. 56 Alasdair Galbraith, ‘The invisible Irish? re-discovering the Irish Protestant tradition in colonial New Zealand’ in Fraser (ed.), A distant shore, p. 42. 57 Ibid., p. 45. 58 Local agents appointed by the Agent-General, A.J.H.R., 1873, D-2, p. 18. 59 Two reports about emigration advertisements to New Zealand in Irish newspapers reflect this Ulster bias. The first report, listing fifteen newspapers, shows that all were confined to Ulster. See A.J.H.R., 1873, D-2, p. 6. The second report reveals that of seventeen newspapers, fourteen were based in Ulster. See A.J.H.R., 1873, D-2, pp 19–20. 60 H. W. Farnall to the Agent-General, 1 October 1872, A.J.H.R., 1873, D2-D, p. 11.

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recommend are generally of numerous families, and are often at a loss to know how to dispose of some of their sons.’61 Despite the writer’s professed concern, these predominantly Protestant counties were among the top ten suppliers of Irish migrants to New Zealand. An uncertain future in these counties, as indicated by the comment, most certainly predisposed many to consider their chances abroad. Not surprisingly, the Ulster bias of recruiting activities prompted condemnation in 1873 from the Minister of Immigration, G. Maurice O’Rorke: You advertise in six Belfast papers, five Londonderry papers, and a few papers in adjoining counties, to the exclusion of such places as Dublin, Waterford, Cork, Limerick, Galway &c. This is one of those things which gives rise to dissatisfaction out here, and it, to my mind, cannot be justified.62

In response, the Agent-General set out a list of Irish migrants outside of Ulster that he had assisted, but this too generated a caustic response from O’Rorke: [C]onsidering the enormous number of Irish emigrants that annually leave that country I can hardly be expected to compliment your agents in having induced in a year and a half 900 souls to emigrate to New Zealand from that country, nor do I care to take advantage of pointing out that of these 900 more than one-third were nominated in the Colony, and consequently reached this independent of the exertions of your officers.63

Other reports condemned the ‘uselessness’ of the Dublin agency, and the ‘slack’ overall emigration from Ireland.64 What explanations account for the vocal opposition to Irish migration solely from Ulster? One contributing factor may have been the considerable influence in government of a number of Irish men, both Catholic and Protestant, with non-Ulster origins.65 Another factor widely acknowledged was the major demand for women in the colony, and Irish women were particularly keen to settle abroad. Emigration agents offered a range of excuses for the poor supply of Irish migrants to New Zealand, including the competition of other destinations offering ‘counter attractions’ and ‘better terms’, primarily Australia and North

61

Alex Bradley to the Minister of Immigration, 20 October 1874, A.J.H.R., 1875, D1. Memorandum No. 29, 1873, for the Agent-General, London, A.J.H.R., 1873, D-1, p. 48. 63 Memorandum No. 167, 1873, for the Agent-General, London, A.J.H.R., 1873, D-1A, p. 12. 64 Vogel to the Agent-General, 11 February 1874, A.J.H.R., 1874, D1, p. 21. 65 See especially Edmund Bohan, ‘“A recollection of the unfortunate failings of my own countrymen”: the Irish in New Zealand politics, 1860–1880’ in Patterson (ed.), The Irish in New Zealand, pp 53–65. 62

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America.66 The Agent-General also pointed out the difficulty of getting ships to sail direct from Ireland as ship owners ‘cannot get cargo from these ports’.67 Indeed, throughout the nineteenth century only eight ships sailed direct from Irish ports to New Zealand,68 thereby providing Irish migrants with additional expenses to reach English or Scottish ports. The cost of the passage was therefore the most important reason for the poor outflow of migrants from Ireland to New Zealand. When free passages were made available in 1874, there was a noticeable surge in Irish migrants travelling to New Zealand. During most years, however, assisted and nominated passages were confined to those who could pay part of the fare. It does not necessarily follow, then, that just because only approximately 28 per cent of all passages were nominated this implies few kin connexions in the colony.69 Rather, migrants supplied advice and encouragement leaving the funding of the fare to their associates in Ireland. The poor outflow, relatively, of Irish migrants from north and south, despite a plethora of propaganda campaigns, contradicts the claim of New Zealand historian James Belich that nineteenth-century migrants to New Zealand were ‘prised out of their British contexts by powerful myths and prophecies’.70 Propaganda, in the form of books, pamphlets, and articles in newspapers and periodicals, he contends, was persuasive in channelling migration to New Zealand. Yet Belich fails to consider extensively the effect of negative publicity which must also have been influential, particularly given his argument that personal letters prevented migration by counteracting myths.71 But how accurate is this assessment of the private letter? David Fitzpatrick, for instance, has remarked that letters were the ‘most persuasive medium’ in generating migration.72 What light does Irish–New Zealand correspondence throw on this debate? Only two correspondents use terminology that suggests the influence of official propaganda in their decision to migrate to New Zealand. When Bessie Macready arrived at Port Lyttelton in 1878, after a voyage of 79 days, she dramatically announced to her cousins, ‘I have travelled over about fifteen thousand miles of water and at last got to the desired haven’ (Ma 1). Reports from Bessie’s aunts in Governors Bay prior to her migration may have equally

66

H. W. Farnall to the Agent-General, 1 October 1872, A.J.H.R., 1873, D2-D. Agent-General to the Hon. the Minister for Immigration, 13 January 1874, A.J.H.R., 1874, D-3, No. 40, p. 30. 68 These ships were Asia, Caroline, Carrick Castle, Queen of Nations, Dover Castle, Carisbrooke Castle, Conflict, and Lady Jocelyn. 69 This argument is made by Miles Fairburn, The ideal society and its enemies: the foundations of modern New Zealand society, 1850–1900 (Auckland, 1989), p. 167. 70 James Belich, Making peoples: a history of the New Zealanders from Polynesian settlement to the end of the nineteenth century (Auckland, 1996), p. 279. 71 Ibid., p. 282. 72 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 516. 67

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established this idea of the colony as haven in Bessie’s mind. Likewise, Margaret Kilpatrick’s refulgent confirmation from Auckland in 1862 that her mother ‘dreamed a very straight dream about this place the green hill, the great mountain, the sea below, and the Valley beyond it’ (Ki 1), may be indicative of the influence of propaganda. The letters of most correspondents in this study, however, suggest that propaganda played no role in their decision to migrate to New Zealand, though the absence of reference to such material does not necessarily infer that propaganda was unimportant. Rather, it appears that propaganda was of greater significance in the early years of settlement in New Zealand. Thereafter, despite continued propaganda campaigns, personal recommendation was far more influential. That propaganda was less vital from the 1870s onwards is evident in the number of complaints contained in official documents concerning the poor stream of migrants from Ireland to New Zealand, despite the dissemination of such propaganda materials. Propaganda was therefore of less importance than the combined influence of personal letters and an assisted or nominated passage. This reliance on the recommendations of previous migrants does not, however, imply passivity as Kerby Miller contends of Irish chain migration to North America. In his interpretation, Miller argues that migrants unconsciously followed established chains of migration. This abdication of responsibility, Miller reckons, arose from a ‘distinctive Irish worldview’ which deprecated ‘innovation, initiative, and the assumption or attribution of personal responsibility’.73 It is a thesis that Miller applies largely to Irish Catholics and which has encountered stringent criticism, most consistently from Donald Akenson. This is because, as Akenson carefully explains, Miller’s thesis is not just a view of Irish Catholics in the United States but is by implication a concept of Irish Catholic culture at home and abroad. In counteracting Miller’s claims, Akenson cites a number of studies which indicate that Irish Catholics in the United States and elsewhere were not disadvantaged.74 This chapter also challenges Miller’s assumptions by showing that Irish migrants, Catholic and Protestant, actively and purposefully chose which migrant chains to follow based on the advice they received from their letter writing connexions. Irrespective of the method and means for migration, intending migrants had a range of private motives for leaving home. These reasons are not always discussed, but some clues can be discerned from a careful reading of surviving letters. What explanations for migration, then, can be ascertained from the letters exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand? And why did some correspondents choose to remain in Ireland?

73

Miller, Emigrants and exiles, pp 516, 4, 429. See Donald Harman Akenson, ‘Irish migration to North America, 1800–1920’ in Andy Bielenberg (ed.), The Irish diaspora (Harlow, 2000), especially pp 127–33. 74

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James and Hamilton McIlrath, second and third sons of a Unitarian farmer who worked 27 acres at Balloo, near Killinchy, County Down, elected to move abroad in 1860. Eight years later Hamilton commented retrospectively, ‘Times seems to be getting better at home since we left’ (Il 14). Apart from unfavourable conditions in County Down at the time of their departure, James and Hamilton McIlrath were probably enticed to leave home by reports from the Australian goldfields to where they initially gravitated. Their three brothers, however, elected to stay at home. Robert, the youngest, died in 1870, while eldest brother William inherited the family farm. The second son John settled on a farm at nearby Carrickmannon. The prospect of obtaining money seemingly lured David Kilpatrick and his wife Margaret to New Zealand with their infant son William in 1862. As Margaret’s sister Martha Jane, who had settled in Canada, queried scathingly of her brother Thomas Reid: What freak could possess David Kilpatrick to start for N. Z. If he wished to make money faster, he might have tried Canada, or some place within the bounds of Christendom but to start on a 10 months voyage, speculating, what an idea, and only think I don’t know yet what Kilpatricks they are.75

The departure of 24-year-old orphan Daniel Strong in 1883, meanwhile, derived from his failure to inherit his father’s pub at the Ferry, near Lehinch, County Tipperary. Just 5 years of age when his father died, Daniel went to live with his cousins. Recriminations about the transfer of the pub out of Strong hands continued to appear in letters sent years after Daniel’s departure. His cousin Lizzie Strong pronounced longingly, ‘It would be the joy of our hearts to see you where you had a right to be’, while her brother Martin hoped ‘to see your name planted there yet’ (St 4, 3). While inheritance issues may have sparked Daniel’s departure, the reasons for his choice of New Zealand remain unknown. Another example of economic factors spurring migration appears in the letters sent in 1886 by Kate and John Keane from Shanacoole, Clashmore, County Waterford. Though their paternal great-grandfather, Matthew Keane, was a substantial landholder, their father James appears to have been a landless labourer. The lack of local employment opportunities prompted Kate to deliberately seek her migrant sister’s assistance to provide a passage for their brother John on account of ‘no work for him here’ (Ke 1). John Keane also bluntly sought his sister’s aid: ‘I would wish you to send for me & If not you ought to send me to America or else to buy tools and work at home’ (Ke 2). John and another brother, James, eventually settled in North America,

75

Martha Jane Wilson (Canada) to Thomas E. Reid (Armagh), 15 December 1862, in P.R.O.N.I., D/3014/2/16. 71

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while their sisters migrated to England and New Zealand. Seemingly, no member of this branch of the Keane family remained in Ireland. The expectation of work abroad also contributed to departures from Ireland in the twentieth century. Maggie Moran, writing in 1914 from Borrisokane in County Tipperary, reported that two friends ‘are in England. They got jobs there in an hospital (Red Cross Nurses)’ (Fa 6). Twentieth-century correspondence also highlights the importance of career advancement. An acquaintance of Nenagh migrant Philip Carroll, for instance, elected to journey to the United States in 1925, as his career in the railways was stagnant as ‘prospects of promotion at the present time are nil’ (Cl 24). Health factors prompted the departure of some migrants from Ireland. In 1864, Margaret Kilpatrick learned of Elizabeth Walker’s son’s emigration to Australia ‘in consequence of bad health brought on by standing on a flagged floor’ (Ki 4). Evidence of the health benefits of migration continued to appear in the letters in the early twentieth century. Writing from Tipperary, publican John Strong informed his cousin Daniel of ‘a young fellow leaving this place in a few days for New Zealland. He is going for his health’ (St 6). Happiness and freedom from constraints rarely appear as motives for migration in Irish–New Zealand letters. Nevertheless, from Armagh in 1864 Elizabeth Walker asked her friend Margaret Kilpatrick, ‘would you have had the same independence in this country and be happy’ (Ki 4). Thirty years later from the same county, poor farming conditions sparked a mood of gloomy introspection from Mary Ann Gilpin. She meditated glumly to her sister Lizzie, ‘There is little here but disappointments & trouble. There is all joy & peace. It is well to gain that shore’ (Gn 1). Emanating from non-migrants, such comments provide an incisive insight into Irish society. Personal motives of a collective kind spurred Bridget Connell, an acquaintance of the Keanes. According to John Keane, Bridget was leaving Clashmore, County Waterford, to prevent her brother’s marriage in the United States. As John reported, she ‘is in a hurry to try If she could be out Before his marriage would take place to prevent it’ (Ke 2). John’s sister, Kate, on the other hand, indicated that Bridget Connell ‘is gone to try & do for her father & family in a foreign land’ (Ke 3). Whichever explanation is applied, Bridget Connell’s departure points to the dominant role of collective responsibilities over individual ambition. The subjection of Irish women to family decisions is perhaps most prominent in the case of Agnes Lambert. Single and pregnant at 18 years of age, Agnes was banished from her Belfast Presbyterian kith and kin. She departed Liverpool in January 1860 on board the White Star line vessel the Red Jacket. The ship called at Melbourne before continuing on to Auckland where it was acclaimed as ‘the finest merchant vessel which has ever come into New Zealand waters’.76 Within five weeks of her arrival on 17 May, Agnes gave

76

Southern Cross, 18 May 1860, p. 3. 72

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birth to a son, James Francis Ferguson. According to family lore the father was a cousin of Agnes’s. Recollecting the circumstances of her departure seventeen years later, Agnes highlights the harshness of her enforced migration and subtly hints at the reason for it: ‘I have Been an outcaste from you all But I forgive him that was the cause of it all as my father ought to have forgiven me’ (La 1). This tellingly illustrates the disturbingly harsh character of some family decision-making. Despite the circumstances of her departure, Agnes expressed remorse about her relationship with her father: ‘My poor father is [erased: I] dead I know for I have Been dreaming about him so much. I Broke his heart But I hope he forgave me before he died’ (La 1). Agnes’s premonitions were unwarranted since her father was still alive, and time had seemingly mellowed him. As Agnes learned from her sister Isabella McNeice in Belfast, ‘I cannot explain to you the joy & grief he experienced when he heard from you. He says he will die contented since he knows yoa are still alive’ (La 2). As with migration generally, the motives for Irish women’s migration have been and remain hotly contested in Irish migration history. American-based studies by Hasia Diner and Janet Nolan have offered divergent explanations including Irish women’s desires to improve their opportunities for employment and marriage abroad.77 Recent commentary has combined both motives by suggesting that Irish women pursued economic gains in order to enhance their marriage prospects.78 The letters exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland give only a brief glimpse into women’s motives for migration, but reveal a range of private factors which could trigger departure from Ireland. The letters also show that responsibilities at home could prevent Irish women’s migration.79 Margaret Kilpatrick, for instance, appears to have elected to stay in Ireland temporarily rather than join her sister Martha Jane in Canada. As Martha Jane complained vigorously in 1862, ‘I wish R. John would marry and let you come to me. It is time he was. He is 28 I think by this.’80 Brigid Dawson, on the other hand, was seemingly the instigator of her Catholic family’s delayed departure

77

Hasia R. Diner, Erin’s daughters in America: Irish immigrant women in the nineteenth century (Baltimore, 1983); Janet A. Nolan, Ourselves alone: women’s emigration from Ireland, 1885–1920 (Lexington, 1989). 78 Kerby A. Miller, David N. Doyle, and Patricia Kelleher, ‘“For love and liberty”: Irish women, migration, and domesticity in Ireland and America, 1815–1920’ in Patrick O’Sullivan (ed.), Irish women and Irish migration (London, 1995), p. 53. 79 For Irish women in New Zealand see Lyndon Fraser, ‘“No one but black strangers to spake to god help me”: Irish women’s migration to the West Coast, 1864–1915’ in Lyndon Fraser and Katie Pickles (eds), Shifting centres: women and migration in New Zealand History (Dunedin, 2002), pp. 45–62; Angela McCarthy, “In prospect of a happier future”: private letters and Irish women’s migration to New Zealand, 1840–1925’ in Fraser (ed.), A distant shore, pp 105–16. 80 Martha Jane Wilson (Canada) to Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Armagh), 17 March 1862. Transcript at P.R.O.N.I., T/2466/1, p. 12. 73

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from County Armagh. With a hint of remorse, she explained to her sister in 1924, ‘I am sorry at that we did not come out here sooner or that I kept Peter back so long from coming for it was myself done it as he was at me all the time to say I would come’ (Da 1). Other letters also reveal that responsibilities towards parents were a factor in male kinfolk electing to remain in Ireland. William Lysaght, born at Clogher, Doon, County Tipperary, in April 1847, had diligently accompanied his family to New Zealand in 1864, only to return with his parents to Limerick within two years.81 By 1869 William was defending his decision to his older brother Edward: ‘You chose to take your chances in Newzealand and left us – and therefore lost all right to anything we had. I stuck to my father at both sides of the world and gained by doing so while you lost by leaving him’ (Ly 2). William Lysaght’s stinging remarks expose the tensions between the brothers and also reveal that both brothers made conscious, deliberate decisions concerning migration. It was not until his father Edmund’s death in 1896 that William elected to settle abroad though he chose Australia rather than New Zealand where both his brother and sister had settled. County Down migrant Andrew Gilmore, meanwhile, reluctantly acknowledged his brother Robert’s duty to remain on the Ards Peninsula because of his responsibilities to his parents, but Andrew’s comment implicitly assumed such care to be Robert’s rather than his concern: ‘I am sorry about the old people & could not advise you to Leave while the are alive not But the might be able with a little help to Live without you Being there But it seems so Hard to Leave them in old age’ (Ge 11). Even after their deaths Robert Gilmore stayed in Ireland, providing his blacksmith skills to Echlinville’s population. Indeed, the availability of work in Ireland was regarded as one reason for remaining in or returning to Ireland. John Armstrong, the son of a Church of Ireland minister, queried his sister in 1859, ‘Could Richard not find employment in Australia that he made such a short stay there or has he a prospect of obtaining it at home’ (Ar 1). More than fifty years later, in 1911, Michael Farrell wrote ruefully from Canterbury, in a letter to his brother Paddy, a tailor, in Tipperary, ‘perhaps you will like your trade so well now as you have your time served you wont ever emigrate’ (Fa 1). Despite this recognition, Michael attempted to encourage Paddy’s migration claiming, ‘there is no doubt but you will do well in this colony’. Moreover, Michael revealed that he would ‘be having a chat with some of the tailors here soon and Ill try and have a job got for you’ (Fa 1). Michael also divulged his plans to bring out several other siblings, claiming ‘It’s the best place for them anyway’ (Fa 1). Several years later, the Farrell siblings joined their brother Michael in New Zealand.

81 In May 1864 William, his parents, and his aunt Rosanna Hayes, arrived in the colony on board the Statesman which sailed from Gravesend on 1 January 1864.

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As with the Farrell family migration, for whatever reasons migrants made the decision to leave Ireland, the choice of destination was often the result of the presence, encouragement, and assistance of family and friends in New Zealand. That pioneering migrants played a significant role in this respect is illustrated by Elizabeth McCleland’s comment to her daughter Ann that sister Nancy ‘longs greatly to hear from you. She intends to goe to you If you give her the least encouragement’ (Cd 1). Several sequences of letters serve to illustrate the explicit inducement provided by settlers in New Zealand. From Canterbury in 1875 married farmer James McIlrath, who had departed fifteen years earlier, promoted emigration when he wondered if his parents knew ‘of any young Woeman or girl that would like to come here Willing to milk & so. There is no rough work here like at home. I would pay all expences from she left home and make this a home for Her too’ (Il 24). In response to his inquiry James’s parents recommended Maggie Auld who was departing Belfast with her brothers for Canterbury on the Conflict. Subsequent letters in the McIlrath sequence indicate that Maggie accepted James’s offer of employment. One of the most determined correspondents seeking family reunion was Andrew Gilmore, fourth son of a blacksmith residing at Ballyhemlin on the Ards Peninsula, County Down. Having been joined in Tauranga in 1876 by two of his three siblings, Andrew wrote home to his eldest brother Robert in 1881 in an attempt to lure him and his family to New Zealand. Fundamental among Andrew Gilmore’s claims was that Robert’s ‘family would get more civilised & I Believe Better connected’ (Ge 11). Aware that personal advancement alone was unlikely to sway Robert, Andrew also suggested that the brothers unite in a business partnership. Andrew also offered to meet his brother on arrival at Auckland. Andrew’s pleas were in vain for, as we have seen, Robert Gilmore elected to remain in Ireland. A decade later, Carlow-born migrant Annie Dempsey sent a request from South Canterbury, with a focus on wages and an offer of assistance with the passage. Unlike James McIlrath, however, Annie clearly had someone in mind: Dear Sister is Mary Byrn of Knock Bally still at home yet or would she like to com to Newzeland. I would like to know as we would like to have a Respectable girl to live with us. We would give her good wages and make her as a companion or if Mr Burk did know of a Respectable girl who would wish to come out it would cost about Ten Pound to Pay there Passage here. We would Pay it. She could earn it afterwards with us when She would come out. (De 7)

Some comments also suggest the implicit encouragement of Irish migration to New Zealand, but for personal rather than altruistic reasons. James O’Neill, for instance, assessed from Auckland in 1863, ‘If Patt had not constant work in Limk I am shure he would do well here provided he would keep from drink’ (Ne 1). Other correspondents offered to act as patrons to prospective 75

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migrants. John Armstrong, having learned of an acquaintance’s planned migration in 1859, promised to ‘do what little I can to oblige him’ while Daniel Strong was asked almost half a century later to look after a Protestant migrant (Ar 1; St 6, 7). Sixteen years after James McIlrath arrived in the colony, he learned of his nephew’s intended migration and pledged to ‘meet him and give him any assistance in my power’, while in 1905 Margaret Kilpatrick guaranteed a ‘hearty welcome’ at her Auckland residence to any migrants from Armagh (Il 27; Ki 14). Other migrant correspondents conveyed a desire for kin to join them but tempered this with a warning, placing the onus on the recipient to decide what option to pursue. As such, Agnes Lambert admitted reluctantly from Auckland in 1877, ‘I would like to see some of my sisters out here But if they are doing any way [erased: wel] well at home they had Better stay there for this is not much of a place unless you have plenty of money’ (La 1). Likewise, when offering advice about his brother’s intending migration to Christchurch from Tonaghmore, County Down, two years later, accountant William Cardwell hoped that ‘if he comes here there will be something turn up for him to do although trade just now is very dull’ (Ca 1). In June 1881, two years after his father’s death, John Cardwell and his wife voyaged to Canterbury on board the City of Tanjore. His two brothers, David and Samuel, equally divided their father’s 33 acres of land in the parish of Saintfield. Two sisters also remained in Ireland and were living with Samuel at the time of the 1901 Census. Only rarely was a would-be emigrant dissuaded, as in Margaret Kilpatrick’s explicit discouragement of her brother Joseph’s emigration from Balleer in 1862: ‘I would not advise Joseph to come here as he would not stand the work he would have to do’ (Ki 1). Clearly, an intending migrant’s disposition required careful scrutiny before emigration could be specifically recommended. Some correspondents, however, remained uncommitted in their assessments, including Oliver McSparron. After his arrival in Australia in 1860 he explained carefully, ‘I will send no word of encouragement or discouragement to anyone at present as I know little of this country’ (Sp 1). Similar sentiments were penned in the twentieth century. Michael Farrell revealed that ‘I had letters from Matt [word illegible] Dave Forgarty about coming but I told them to please themselves’ (Fa 1). Unlike Irish–Australian correspondence in which encouragement and discouragement were evenly weighted, and letters from the Irish in North America which were more prone to provide outright discouragement for further migration, the letters sent to Ireland from New Zealand were more likely to encourage, but with clear warnings.82 Such a contrast suggests that Irish correspondents in New Zealand responded favourably to their new environment, as we will see later. Whatever their motives for leaving Ireland,

82

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 520; Miller, Emigrants and exiles, p. 358. 76

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a combination of factors therefore played a role in determining migrants’ choice of New Zealand to settle. Apart from positive depictions of New Zealand’s environment and working conditions, the presence of close family and friends, explicit instruction to emigrate, and the availability of assisted passages were all vital ingredients in directing Irish migrants to New Zealand. The scattering of their family and friends around the world prompted many correspondents in Ireland to supply poignant testimony about the migration of their loved ones. Such evidence was generally penned shortly after the migrant’s departure, thereby heightening a sense of despair among those who remained. Daniel Strong’s migration produced deep distress among his cousins, for as John Strong reflected painfully in 1883: We all loved you with more than brotherly love. . . . I liked you as well as the Dearest of a brother and first thing I heard on Wednesday morning was my mother crying for you. You never left our mind for a moment since you left and Lizzie cried after getting up this morning. (St 1)

The departure of an acquaintance to North America from County Waterford in 1886 reminded an agonised Kate Keane of her feelings when her sisters left for New Zealand earlier that decade. ‘I thought my heart would break thinking of ye both when ye were leaving us all’, she recollected mournfully (Ke 3). Protestant correspondents in Ireland echoed the grief expressed by Catholic writers. From Balleer, County Armagh, in 1863, for instance, Margaret Kilpatrick’s widowed mother admitted dejectedly that ‘there is one long heart rending thought that troubles me that is I fear I never will see you in this life’ (Ki 2). Fathers also grieved, prompting David McCullough to sympathise with his aunt, ‘I am sorry to hear my father taking it so much to heart’ (Cu 2). Samuel McCullough’s despair was seemingly compounded by the fact that David was his only son and later letters indicate that Samuel vigorously sought David’s return to take over the family farm. Few letters, however, equal the intense outpouring of desolation contained in the correspondence of the widow Elizabeth McCleland when her daughter Ann departed Liverpool in March 1840 on the Martha Ridgway. Ann’s voyage to the fledgling colony gave her mother the deepest heartfelt sorrow and distress of mind & bodey that it is possible for one of my age & constitution to bear. I suffered after you went away grieving night & day about you. I hoped that you would have perhaps ruid & changed your mind when you would goe to Liverpool but alas to my sorrow you went on leaving me to grieve your absence. (Cd 1)

Other family and acquaintances at Dunronan, County Londonderry, also mourned Ann’s absence: ‘Sister Mary grieves day & Night’; Eliza Jane ‘frequently talks about you & cries’; ‘Sarah is grieved about you’; and Jane ‘longs most earnestly to hear from you’ (Cd 1). Several other family members 77

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were also ‘in great grief about you when you went away’ (Cd 1). These intensely moving responses to Ann McCleland’s departure probably reflect the timing of her migration. By contrast with later migrants, Ann was voyaging to a country barely known among intending Irish migrants. The extensive expressions of sorrow articulated by non-migrants contrast significantly with the general absence of grief in the letters of migrants. Indeed, only one migrant conveyed such emotion. Preparing to return to New Zealand following a visit to Ireland in 1925, Philip Carroll wrote despairingly, ‘Mother will find the parting hard this time and so will I because I do not expect I will ever see her again in this life’ (Cl 18). In the last surviving letter of the Carroll sequence, Philip brooded sadly, ‘Meetings are lovely but partings are rotten’ (Cl 24). In order to ease his departure, Philip adopted a psychological tactic, claiming to ‘look on my parting with Ireland like I would when leaving a place where I spent an enjoyable holiday’ (Cl 21). Philip Carroll had just received news that he was dying from Bright’s disease, a chronic inflammatory disorder of the kidneys. Undoubtedly this exacerbated his anxiety at leaving his mother. But the desire to reunite with his wife and children in New Zealand took precedence. Not surprisingly, Philip’s personal circumstances shaped his response to his departure from Ireland. His moving reflections, however, stand in stark contrast to the striking absence of similar accounts from nineteenth-century migrant correspondents voyaging to New Zealand. By contrast, Kerby Miller has argued that post-Famine Irish migrants in North America conveyed ‘deep sorrow’ at leaving home and kin.83 However, most of Miller’s examples of post-Famine sorrow at the time of departure emanate from non-migrants.84 Instead, the most extensive examples of grief expressed by migrants destined for North America are drawn from the preFamine period.85 One of the most striking findings from both Miller’s and this study is that most anguished accounts concerning departure from Ireland arose from non-migrants. Perhaps this explains the relative absence of expressions of grief among migrants; did migrants feel sad but remain silent so as not to reinforce the sorrow experienced by their kin in Ireland? Or did some migrants testify to their grief only to have such letters discarded? On the other hand, anticipation of reunion with their friends and family in New Zealand may have suppressed to some degree the pain of separation among migrants. Moreover, the excitement, anticipation, and hustle and bustle of leaving must also have alleviated the ache associated with departure. Whatever explanation is applied, a frequent tactic to combat separation was to look upon migration as a temporary undertaking and the surviving letters of migrants reveal that many viewed their migration as a transient

83 84 85

Miller, Emigrants and exiles, p. 482. Ibid., p. 482. Ibid. Miller’s evidence of pre-Famine migrant sorrow can be found on p. 254. 78

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venture. According to sociologists this ‘myth’ of return eased the sorrow for all involved in the process of separation. For example, when David McCullough arrived in London for the second leg of his voyage in 1875 he reassured his aunt at Moneyreagh, ‘I can not turn back now but I hope soon to return’ (Cu 2). Gordon McClure employed the same strategy when he emigrated in 1860. Before sailing he cheerfully encouraged his sisters to ‘enjoy yourselves till I come back which will be in about 2 years when I expect you will all come out with me & settle’ (Ce 2). In similar vein, John Gilmore, in his first surviving letter sent home after his voyage, hinted, ‘I may drop down there some day yet as there is no saying what time may Bring’ (Ge 6). Non-migrants also clung to the possibility of reunion. Despite the distress engendered by his cousin Daniel’s migration, John Strong steadfastly believed, When you receive a letter from me again thousands of miles of oceon shall roll between us and you will be in a strange land making new friends and perhaps forgetting the old ones, or only remembering them sometimes when some stray thought shall wander back to them and the land of your birth. But Dan you will never be forgotten by me and I feel certain that we shall meet again.

John Strong’s anticipation of this reunion appears to be a temporal one. He guesses that at their future meeting they will be ‘much changed in appearance’ as ‘time may whiten the hair furrow the brow and dim the eyes’ (St 2). Possibly John Strong’s focus on reunion was relayed in order to alleviate any distress that Daniel may have felt reading John’s earlier missive, but without Daniel’s response to that earlier letter we must remain uncertain. Regardless, John Strong was also deploying a personal coping mechanism to combat his own misery. Other correspondents, however, did look towards a spiritual reunion, a feature discussed below, in Chapter 9. Such declarations were seemingly designed to soothe the process of separation and console both migrants and non-migrants, for none of these writers returned to Ireland. Nevertheless, such announcements were not simply hollow wishes, but were feasible options as is evident in the extent of return migration, which will be examined in Chapter 7. To conclude, Irish migrants settling in New Zealand were predominantly drawn from Munster and Ulster, were approximately three-fifths Catholic, and supplied a significant minority of New Zealand’s foreign-born population. Irish men and women settled widely in New Zealand and their use of the colonial government’s schemes of nominated and assisted migration meant that robust links developed between specific counties of origin and particular colonial destinations. Though these subsidised passages were crucial in supplying Irish migrants with the means to join their kinfolk, migrants elected to leave Ireland for a range of reasons. Their choice of settlement in New Zealand, meanwhile, was based primarily on the advice and encouragement of their family and friends, rather than propaganda campaigns. The presence 79

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of these connexions in New Zealand and anticipation of future reunion with their loved ones in Ireland may have made migrants less inclined to articulate their sorrow at departure. Their non-migrant counterparts, however, supplied moving testimony of the grief generated by separation.

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2

‘Very perfection of a letter writer’ An overview of Irish–New Zealand correspondence Between 1886 and 1921 the Keane family of Clashmore, County Waterford, sent eleven surviving letters to their migrant sister Mary, who had settled at Wellington. These letters placed a range of obligations on Mary. Both Mary and another migrant sister, Bridget, residing in Otago, were clearly expected to communicate regularly with the family: ‘I hope Bridget will write and let us know how she is getting on & if she dont tis the most she can do as not’ (Ke 1). The consequences of Mary’s silence were also keenly felt. A friend ‘was very mad as you did not write to her’ (Ke 1). Another sister, Kate, who settled in London, also conveyed her deep disappointment in Mary, some two decades after Mary’s departure: ‘All the years you have left home you have not written to me’ (Ke 4). Mary Keane’s communications, however, may have been subjected to the precarious transmission of correspondence. In 1886, her brother John puzzled, ‘you spoke about writing so many letters home to Ireland. All the letters ever I read from ye was four two from Bridget & Two from Your-self’ (Ke 2). Alternatively, Mary may have exaggerated her writing activities to counteract these complaints from home, leaving her family to surmise as to the whereabouts of so many letters. When, eventually, Kate received word from Mary, she exclaimed gleefully, ‘Words in writing fail to express my joy to receive a letter from you after all these years’ (Ke 5). Apart from news, the exchange of correspondence among the Keane family also contained photographs. In 1918, approximately forty years after Mary’s departure, Kate sought a photograph for the purposes of recollection: I have one of Bridget taken when she first went to New Zealand & a photo taken with her husband & children when John was a little one. He resembles his mother but I have not a single photo of you Mary. If you have an old photo do send me one just to remember you as I used to in the old days & one taken with the children. I am having some taken & will send you one. (Ke 10)

In response to this letter Mary sent a photograph of her son, prompting Kate to claim enthusiastically, ‘I could at once recall your face Mary as I knew you at home, the same expression’ (Ke 11). The Keane letters also contained demands that Mary provide financial 81

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support for her family. This was particularly evident during a time when the health of Mary’s mother faltered: She is not well since she threw up the blood. She hardly have any appetite at all but now I am asking you to try and assisst her for you know very well she needs it and it is time for you to think of her now if you will ever think & I hope you wont be so false hearted as not to do so. (Ke 1)

While we do not know Mary’s response, clearly the responsibilities to her family had not ceased to exist with her departure from Ireland. This chapter explores the importance of letters as a ‘cultural institution’.1 It does so by drawing upon extracts from the letters to chart the mechanics of correspondence, exploring how letters were composed, transmitted, and received. The chapter then documents the other items exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand – photographs, newspapers, and gifts were the main items – and considers the range of obligations expected of migrants, beyond maintaining a regular correspondence. The earliest letter in this study was sent in 1840 from Dunronan in County Londonderry to Wellington. Elizabeth McCleland informed her daughter Ann that Samuel Dettey ‘has put himself to this trouble to write this’ (Cd 1). Other correspondents were also assisted with their composition, including Thomas Hughes’s sister Harriet, who revealed almost a century later, ‘George is giving me a hand to write this’ (Hu 19). Most correspondents, however, wrote their own letters. In 1910 John Keane announced to his sister in Wellington, ‘I have taken my pen in hand to speak a few words to you’ (Ke 7). Tipperary correspondent Philip Carroll, meanwhile, referred twice to writing in the sunlight and expressed his astonishment at ‘sitting down at half past ten o’clock in broad daylight writing this letter’ (Cl 5). He would naturally have been accustomed to shorter summer evenings in Auckland with the sun setting around nine at night. Annie Dempsey, from Carlow, meanwhile, stressed the joy of communicating: ‘It Affords me mutch pleasure to write you A few lines’ (De 3). Composition of a letter, by self or amanuensis, could be a thoughtful enterprise or a rushed obligation. In Auckland Agnes Lambert sat ‘Down to rite fue lines to you after a long tine thinking about it’ (La 4). George Reid, Margaret Kilpatrick’s brother, was more rushed. He confessed from Armagh, ‘I have neglected writing so long through simple carelessness that I am determined to run a hurried epistle through while I am in the humour’ (Ki 8). Other writers sent a ‘scribble’.

1 David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995), p. 472.

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In the early days of mail delivery, the time of delivery for a letter could take up to five months or more. Elizabeth McCleland’s letter of 1841, composed virtually a year after her daughter’s emigration, highlights the anxiety caused by such delays: After a long times fretting and thinking long about you and wondering whether you were in the land of the living or not or if the sea had become your grave I recived your letter on the sixt of August Which give me and all the rest a great deal of joy to hear that you were well when you rote to us and that that you got safely over after so long a pasag and after the apearing dangers of the sea. (Cd 2)

Delivery times decreased with advances in shipping and routes. In 1876, for instance, the average delivery time fell to less than 45 days with the opening of the Pacific route. By contrast, the Suez–Brindis route took 55 days and the Suez–South route 65 days. The delivery timetable continued to improve and in 1893 mail from Auckland to London averaged 33 days. 2 In 1902, however, the Cyclopedia for the Auckland province observed, ‘Aucklanders are disgusted with a mail service which brings them English letters more than thirty-five days old.’3 Before the start of the First World War the delivery time had fallen only slightly to 31 days.4 Within New Zealand, delivery of the mail was hampered by the colony’s physical terrain. Sea routes initially proved to be the quickest and safest method of delivery before an overland route between Auckland and Wellington was established in the 1840s. Delivery took two and a half weeks and was hindered by the fact that a maximum load of between 50 and 75 pounds was enforced, later reduced in the 1850s to 28 pounds.5 Postal charges also fluctuated throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In 1840 letters from Great Britain could be sent for a penny if carried by a government ship while private vessels often charged 8d. By 1891 the standard postage rate fell to 21⁄2 d. and in 1901 penny postage was introduced. Internal rates also fell to a penny.6 During the First World War rates were raised to 11⁄2 d. and to 2d. in 1920. Three years later they had fallen back to the penny rate and despite another temporary rise during the depression years penny postage operated until after the commencement of the Second World War.7 As postal charges oscillated with the weight of a letter, Elizabeth Walker claimed to Margaret Kilpatrick, ‘I think we are justified in sending double letters for the double postage’ (Ki 4). Occasionally, recipients were obliged to 2 Howard Robinson, A history of the post office in New Zealand (Wellington, 1964), pp 134, 137. 3 Cyclopedia of New Zealand (Christchurch, 1902), ii. 4 Robinson, A history of the post office, p. 188. 5 Ibid., pp 56–8. 6 Ibid., pp 165, 169–70. 7 Ibid., pp 195, 200.

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pay extra for overweight or underpaid items. Andrew Gilmore, for instance, contacted his brother Robert on the Ards Peninsula in County Down about mail received from their parents. Andrew recommended that, ‘If it could be done it would look much better if there were no deficiency postage nor fines for me to pay on their letter’ (Ge 8). His comment is probably less a reflection of his unhappiness at paying such charges, and more a wish to avoid the stigma of a respectable person receiving underpaid letters. Given such charges, it is not surprising that throughout the nineteenth century many correspondents entrusted their documents to fellow passengers. In 1840, for instance, Elizabeth McCleland revealed that her daughter ‘would have went with the bearer of this letter but she wished to wait for a letter from you’ (Cd 1). The delivery of parcels was more frequently entrusted to migrants from the local neighbourhood. As James McIlrath related in 1866, ‘I was in christ church on the 1st of this month and recieved the parcel you sent Mother by Mr Ward. . . . We place it to the Account of Debt and Duty’ (Il 10). David McCullough’s gift, meanwhile, was transported by his friend William Hobson in 1875: ‘I got the parcels safe from him that you dear father & mother sent me. I thank you both very much as It was a nice new years gift to me’ (Cu 4). Transmission through an intermediary was not only faster and cheaper than official methods of delivery, but also more reliable. Indeed, many letters were frequently delayed or went astray. In cases where the mail could not be delivered, names were published and the recipients given six months to retrieve their post. If unclaimed, the mail was returned. To counteract postponements and missing mail, Elizabeth McCleland adopted a sound strategy. She notified her daughter Ann in Wellington in 1841, ‘we intend sending you another in the corse of a month or two and you will surely get some of them. You may rite in the same way to us and we will have a better chance of getting some of yours’ (Cd 2). Almost two decades later the delivery situation remained equally haphazard. John Armstrong, awaiting a parcel from home, resignedly contemplated, ‘I hope it will not go in search of the missing letter’ (Ar 1). In a later communication, Armstrong expressed concern that the mail failed to arrive when expected: The cause of the delay is not known but I hope it is nothing more serious than the breaking down of the mail steamer through its machinery getting out of order. I still look forward with interest to the arrival of the English Mail and it is no slight disappointment when it does not come in. (Ar 3)

An established correspondent, John Armstrong was alert to the expected arrival times of the mail: ‘We look for English news & letters now in two months from the time they leave England but of course sailing vessels cannot be expected to be quite so expeditious especially those homeward bound’ (Ar 1). 84

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Other correspondents also reflected on the reasons for haphazard deliveries. West Coast goldminer Michael Flanagan, bewildered by the non-arrival of letters from Louth and London in 1867, pondered, I cannot for the life of me think how your letters could have gone astray as they have done for we have written regularly to the post offices and although not being much in the neighbourhood of Hokitika we have been there several times during the last two years and have got no letters nor saw any advertised. (Fl 2)

Little evidence exists of the problems of the postal service in Ireland, but one commentator did note the difficulties prevailing between England and Ireland. As Fr Flanagan logically reassured his nephews in 1867, ‘You need not be disappointed at not hearing from your friends at home. You see one of my own letters has miscarried and I have thro’ the Dead letter, or Returning letter office, a letter that Richd wrote to you when at home here last September twelve months’ (Fl 1). Various situations hampered the delivery of mail in New Zealand. It could go astray due to an incorrect or out-of-date address. As James McClure explained in 1865 from Southland to his sisters in Belfast, ‘the address on your last is not correct, which accounts for so many not reaching me’ (Ce 5). In 1898 David McCullough sent clarification about his communication, presumably in response to his failure to write: ‘He told me in his letter that aunt Nancy wrote to me. He gave the address Reefton. That would not find me. I have never been in Reefton’ (Cu 5). In other cases, mail was delivered to other recipients with the same name. In 1862, just months after his arrival in Canterbury, Hamilton McIlrath informed his parents, ‘When you write to James you must direct to James Logan McIlrath as there is another James McIlrath on the same station that has got all James’s Letters and opened them’ (Il 5). More simply, delayed mail could arise from carelessness. As Philip Carroll surmised from Tipperary in 1925, ‘The mails are indeed most erratic or has someone been carrying them around in their pocket again’ (Cl 16). These continuing problems with the delivery of mail inevitably created misunderstandings between correspondents, which inevitably placed strains on relationships. A friend of Margaret Kilpatrick’s, for instance, had obviously received a testing letter from Margaret. In response she claimed, ‘believe me there never was a letter come from you to your mother but what I answered sooner or later and if you have written any since her death they have gone astray’ (Ki 7). In 1864 Oliver McSparron’s uncle complained from Australia that Oliver had not answered his letters; five years later, Oliver claimed it took six months for a local letter to reach him when ‘I ought to have had it in about six days. He said it was the third he had sent me but I have never got them and indeed I have not even had a letter from Uncle William Oliver for better than a year although I have written him four times and I cannot understand it at all’ (Sp 4). Before arriving in New Zealand, Oliver McSparron 85

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rebuked his father for failing to maintain regular correspondence with Oliver’s uncle: I think you should think of writing to my Uncle a little oftenere. You have not sent but one letter to him since I came here and he says he thinks he will never hear from home any more when I go away and I think that if you are not able to buy two s[h]eet of note paper and two envelopes in a year it is time you were giving up housekeeping. As regards myself I have not had a letter this last seven now eight months.8

Not all complaints concerning poor communication arose from the nondelivery of mail. Margaret Kilpatrick conveyed her husband’s disappointment with his siblings for their neglect in writing, while conveniently explaining away David’s own disregard: Though he does not write himself he thinks when I write that it should do. Now if you do not write, he says that he will neighter [neither] write himself nor will he let me write. We had a letter from Thomas this mail, and 3 papers, but when there is not a letter from Ballyards David is out of all paitiance. (Ki 3)

Annie Dempsey also sent an ultimatum to acquaintances in Carlow: ‘Tell Mike to write me a Slip. Tell Martin Molloy I will give him a good talken to at Not writin to me’ (De 1). Other correspondents seeking news from home employed more subtle tactics, perhaps fearing that those at home might forget them. ‘You Might write oftener’, Hamilton McIlrath suggested calmly in 1863. ‘You have got more interesting news than I have’ (Il 8). Catherine Sullivan, on the other hand, stated explicitly, ‘I shall be impatient to hear from you’ (Su 1). Home correspondents shared this intolerance of poor writing habits, with some grumbling about their migrant kinfolk. In 1895 Mary Ann Gilpin wrote from Armagh to her sister Lizzie reproaching another migrant sister’s poor communication: ‘She never wrote to me yet. Indeed mother thinks her very unkind. Never answered their letters’ (Gn 2). Nine years later in 1904, little had altered: ‘I often think of H Jane how she never writes’ (Gn 5). Complaints did not just arise from non-communication, and its associated fear that home connexions had ceased to exist, but also from delays in writing. From Canterbury in 1888 Annie Dempsey hoped ‘yous will write soon and I hope yous will never be as long again without writing’ (De 5). The Monan parents in County Down, on the other hand, ‘received your kind letter and we were surprised to see it it is so long since we had a letter from you’ (Mo 1).

8 Oliver McSparron (Geelong) to Archibald McSparron (Umrycam), 8 September 1861, P.R.O.N.I., T/2743/1/7.

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For other correspondents, it was the brevity of letters that generated despair. An acquaintance of Michael Flanagan’s explained, ‘I have not heard from home for some time and when they write they send such short letters’ (Fl 17). Monaghan migrant Patrick Treanor, meanwhile, apologised in advance to an acquaintance in New Zealand for his brief reply: ‘I hope that you will excuse me for this short letter compaired with your long kind & affectionate letter’ (Tr 1). Valid complaints of irregular communication inevitably generated a diverse range of excuses from those accused of maintaining sporadic contact. Such explanations further testify to the crucial importance of letters among separated kinfolk. From his Canterbury farm in 1872, eleven years after arriving in New Zealand, James McIlrath protested about a letter received from his family in which you seem to censure me very much for not writing more regular I admit the charge to a certin extent but on the other hand I cannot admit being so very negligent as by your letter it would appear. I had wrote to John just before I recieved yours otherwise I would have wrote to you sooner. As for Hamilton I have done all I could to persuade Him to write and if he has not done so the fault is not mine and he is very ungrat[e]ful indeed. (Il 17)

In the case of the McIlraths, Hamilton had the excuse that James would correspond regularly and inform those at home of his progress: Plea[s]e to ask father and Mother to forgive me for not writeing before for I am heartly ashamed of myself and shall not be guilty of the like again for it was not that the were out of my mind for month after month. I have been going to write this last three years and always put it off for I thought that James would let you know how I was and how I was getting on. (Il 19)

Even though James McIlrath maintained a relatively regular correspondence with home, this obviously did not compensate his parents who preferred to hear directly from Hamilton. Occasionally, the McIlrath brothers admitted to ‘negligence’. Hamilton confessed, ‘I commence at once to answer a letter time wears on u[n]till I feel ashamed and then I think I will wait for another but no second came in this case’ (Il 28). Also writing from Canterbury, Bessie Macready admitted to her cousin William, ‘I have for a long time thought of writing to you but was waiting for something to write about farming’ (Ma 2). Another Canterbury-based correspondent, Annie Dempsey, explained away her silence: ‘I Hope you will Pardon me For not writing Befour this time But realy it was not for want of Good on my Part’ (De 4). Oliver McSparron, on the other hand, attributed his failure to write to an accident: ‘I would have written sooner but I got my hand crushed with a dray’ (Sp 4). As with migrant letter writers, home correspondents also resorted to various reasons to account for their irregular communication, primarily citing the usual 87

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plea of heavy workload and illness. Writing from Armagh in 1895 Mary Ann Gilpin admitted, ‘You will think me very unkind in not writing before this but I have been so busy all this winter I could never get set down to write’ (Gn 2). Occasionally, the absence of letters was symptomatic of illness and writers in Ireland often conveyed this excuse to explain their silence. In 1871, almost a year after receiving a letter in Limerick from his brother, William Lysaght sought forgiveness ‘for not answering a letter of yours that came here last October. I was not at home when it came here. I was in Dublin at the time in an Hospital’ (Ly 5). From Tipperary in 1900, John Strong regretted that his cousin Daniel ‘must think I have forgotten you altogether when I have not replied to your two last letters. But the facts were at that time poor Will was sick’ (St 5). Catherine Colgan in Antrim also attributed her lack of communication to the illness of herself and others. ‘You must pardon me for not writing sooner, but the reason why, Hector was not well for 2 months’, she wrote in 1893. Eight years later she put her irregular letters down to ‘a bad attack of Influenza’ (Co 1, 6). Meanwhile, Robert Hughes in Sligo confessed, ‘I am not able to half answer it my hand is still & full of rh[e]umetism’ (Hu 4). Just as writers in Ireland explained postponements in writing by illness, they were also more likely to assume that poor health led to delays in receiving mail from New Zealand. William Gilmer, farming at Monaghan, claimed, ‘It is a very long time since I had a letter from you. I feel very anxious. I hope you are quite well’ (Gr 2). If some home correspondents chastised migrants for not writing, others invented their own explanations for the irregular communication. Again, fears of illness played a role. ‘Dear Mother I was expectin a letter from yous this long time but I received hear the one’, wrote Annie Dempsey in 1888 from Canterbury to Carlow. ‘However I hope Sicknes is not the cause of it or have yous forgotten me all together’ (De 5). Richard Flanagan, on the other hand, mentioned to his brothers that ‘your long intervals of silence render us lonely’ but he imagined that ‘in your remote district and in the cares and anxieties of your daily occupation you often miss the oppertunities of writing you had intended availing yourselves of ’ (Fl 10, 3). This was not only a device to console Richard but probably an attempt to cajole his goldmining brothers to write. Correspondents pursued various strategies to ensure regular communication with their kinfolk. One such practice was to write alternately to various home readers. From Tauranga in 1878 Andrew Gilmore requested his brother to ‘Read this to the old people. I shall write next mail to themselves’ (Ge 8). John Armstrong also alternated the recipient of his letters, probably so as not to repeat the same information and also to maintain a regular communication with his various family members. Sometimes he sent two or more letters home in the same envelope: ‘I have just finished a letter to Uncle John which I shall enclose with yours and which you are welcome to read before forwarding to him’ (Ar 2). Three and a half years later he sent a brief message to his sister ‘through Mother and I shall therefore address this months letter to you’ 88

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(Ar 3). James McIlrath also advised his parents that if they wrote every second letter to Hamilton ‘he would have a better chance of writing than waiting until I send them to Him’ (Il 6). The exchange of letters between New Zealand and Ireland ultimately consoled and reassured, with many declarations of joy uttered upon receipt of correspondence. When Michael Flanagan received a letter from his brother Richard in London in 1867 he exclaimed euphorically, The receipt of yours of the 26th May was indeed an ‘event’ and I might say about the most welcome epistle I have read for a long time. It is such a lenght of time since we saw your handwriting before and as you are the very perfection of a letter writer if anything could throw a little light upon or import a ray of hope to the dreary monotony of a life in this climate it would be a few words of encouragement or an assurance that thier were some in the world yet who were anxious to hear from us. (Fl 2)

The anxiousness with which news was awaited and the joy at receiving it highlights the importance of correspondence for separated kinfolk. Other correspondents explicitly emphasised the significance of letters. ‘If you ever see her Father or Mother tell them they must write to her oftener as she is always looking for a letter from them’, revealed James McIlrath about Maggie Auld in 1877 (Il 26). Margaret Kilpatrick also strongly suggested from Auckland to her recipients in Armagh that ‘William Erskines people ought to write to him’ (Ki 3). Some correspondents underlined the reassuring element of letters. In 1883, the year his cousin Daniel voyaged from Ireland, John Strong hoped ‘you will never forget writing to me for I will be always anxious to hear how you are getting on and shall always rejoyce in your success’ (St 2). Twentieth-century correspondents also delighted in the receipt of news from home. ‘I was overjoyed at receiving a letter from you’, wrote Maggie Moran in 1916, a friend of May Farrell’s from Tipperary (Fa 5). Quite apart from their private messages of consolation and reassurance, letters were also passed on to others to absorb in silence or read aloud. In 1862, the year of her arrival at Auckland, Margaret Kilpatrick firmly instructed her brother Thomas, ‘when you receive this to go out to Mama and read her this’ (Ki 1). The following decade from Tauranga, John Gilmore likewise recommended, ‘Let all have a reading who you think would wish’ (Ge 7). The public character of private correspondence demanded a degree of sensitivity on the part of those supplying the letters to other readers. Consequently, when the Flanagan family in County Louth passed on Michael’s letter to members of Pat Kirk’s family, they ‘blotted out a certain name’ (Fl 12). Before confirming that Pat Kirk was indeed murdered, Pat Flanagan mused: ‘I think his Father’s name was James. I am not certain. Is there no letters left after him that would tell that’ (Fl 8). Letters could therefore be significant in providing clues to a migrant’s background when death occurred so far from home. Philip Carroll, when writing to his wife from Tipperary, shrewdly put information to his wife 89

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on an extra sheet ‘In case you do not want to tell the relations everything’ (Cl 7). There was little Kate Keane could do, however, when she received ‘1⁄2 a sheet torn off by the censor’ from her nephew during the First World War (Ke 10). Robert Hughes also noted the interference of a letter sent from his son: ‘Your letter was found open when it reached Dublin’ (Hu 6). Letters were not the only item exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand. Photographs, newspapers, money, and miscellaneous items frequently accompanied a letter, with photographs the most frequently exchanged item (see Table 2.1). Photographs sent, received, requested, and promised feature in twenty-three sequences. The receipt of ‘likenesses’ generated much comment, some of it complimentary, including Oliver McSparron’s astonishment that he ‘did not think I had so good looking a sister as she appears to be’ (Sp 3). Retired constabulary officer Robert Hughes in Sligo admitted keenly to his son and daughter-in-law, ‘I love to dwell and look upon your beautiful faces and nice handsom forms’ (Hu 1). During his return to Tipperary in 1925, Philip Carroll expressed his pleasure at the positive response that circulation of his family’s photographs generated: ‘Everyone who sees them is raving about them’ (Cl 5). Other remarks were less flattering, the ageing process so obviously evident after years of separation. As James McIlrath commented upon receiving photographs from Killinchy fifteen years after his departure: ‘You Father I would not have known but I should have you Mother. Time does not seem to have changed you so much. . . . I enclose my own and Mrs and I suppose you will find that time has changed me much’ (Il 23). That same year, Hamilton McIlrath was rather more exuberant: Mother is looking very fresh. Father is grayer looking than I expected but is looking smart and well. I should know them both anywhere. For your own I Know very little difference since last I seen you. You wear your whiskers a bit larger and looks a little more of the swell. Your Misses is a fine looking woman. I dare say you are proud of her. The children are Remarkable pretty. Hamilton is nothing like me. He is to fair for that. Jane is a very nice shy looking girl. I think our Johnny resembles yours a good deal. (Il 22)

Upon receipt of a photo from home, Hamilton pronounced, ‘You have realy a nice Family and for yourself and Mrs I wont say anything. I dare say you are Table 2.1 Items exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand

Photographs Newspapers Gifts

From Ireland

From New Zealand

31 16 15

44 32 11

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both proud enough of your looks alredy’ (Il 28). When Jane McIlrath requested a photograph of her migrant sons, James responded, ‘I spoke to Hamilton about mother wanting the likenesss but he said Mother said she wanted to see no rough faces and [erased: and] he could not send what he had not got a smoothe one’ (Il 7). And according to A. Burns, a friend of Michael Flanagan’s, in 1890: I am afraid if you were to see the originals you would not say you could see no difference in our appearance now and twenty years ago. I got the portraits of my sister Mary from home and I would not know her. She looks quite old. I think I stand it better than she does. (Fl 17)

While these comments were offered voluntarily, some correspondents had to entice recipients for clarification concerning their remarks on photographs. ‘So you see a great change in me’, Mary Ann Gilpin wrote to her sister Lizzie in 1895. ‘Is it for the better? I was very thin when I got it taken’ (Gn 2). The exchange of photographs helped maintain kinship ties as family members sought to remind themselves of the appearance of dear, departed kin. They also served as mementoes. As Mary Shanahan explained in 1892 from County Kerry to her niece Winifred McClennan, ‘I haven’t got anything left after her to send you only her Photo as her ring got Broken years ago & she never got it mended. Maurice has all & everything belonging to her. I kept the best of her clothes & I gave her cape cloak to Ellen’ (Sh 2). It is also likely that the receipt of photographs sparked nostalgic memories, provoking several correspondents to comment on resemblances. Kate Keane saw similarities between her sons and those of her sister Mary: ‘Every body here who has seen your Ernie’s photo says Jim is exactly like his cousin Ernie’ (Ke 10). In Antrim Catherine Colgan received a photograph of her granddaughter which prompted her remark, ‘Some ones says she looks like yourself’ (Co 7). Robert Hughes declared proudly that his grandson ‘is a picture out of a thousand & to see how he sits for his Photo to be taken why as solid as any man. He is the most wonderful child of his age I have ever saw . . . never saw the like of him at his age for beauty & strength he surpasses all’. Robert then mused cheekily, ‘To distinguish as to which of the families he most resembles would be a hard test but to put it plainly he is just the picture of myself when I was his age’ (Hu 8). For Ellen Piezzi, though, a photograph of her son served as a reminder of her late husband. She therefore promised to send one to her brother-in-law to see ‘What fine littel fellow he is getting and tell me is like his papa. He wake [walk] like and his shape is very like him’ (Pi 2). Photographs, then, not only served as an introduction to family members who had never met, but also documented the changes of kinfolk over the years. In the absence of photographs, correspondents had to rely upon their memory. Kate Keane affectionately recollected her deceased mother as ‘certainly very handsome but since we have not a photo we must picture her dear old good face in our memories’ (Ke 5). Other correspondents provided 91

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selective descriptions of themselves, rather than sending photographs. ‘My Hair is getting white and my teeth are almost gone’, reported John Strong twenty-two years after his cousin’s departure (St 6). Sophy Lang, Margaret Kilpatrick’s friend, supplied Margaret with a physical description of Margaret’s sister-in-law: ‘she has Sandy hair a good skin and a very good agree[a]ble countenance I think about your own height stout and well made’ (Ki 7). Sophy, on the other hand, portrayed herself as ‘an old gray haired woman wears my specks but has as good health as ever I had’ (Ki 7). Contemplating his mother’s physique, Philip Carroll related flatteringly, ‘only that she has got a few more grey hairs she is looking as young and well as the day I left’ (Cl 5). As for his sister Nance, ‘She has got very goodlooking. She is as tall as I am but twice as stout’ (Cl 6). Philip’s cousin Maggie, meanwhile, ‘is looking every bit as young as she looked when I left Ireland. She must be 76, if she is a day, and honestly she does not look 50. Her hair is still quite black. I do not know whether she dyes it or not’ (Cl 10). Other correspondents had to imagine how their kin looked. Hamilton McIlrath mused, ‘I expect John will have as big A Mustaich now as Me that Has not shaved this Last two years’ (Il 8). Apart from photographs and descriptions, newspapers were also frequently exchanged. In 1862 James O’Neill wrote from Auckland to his brother in Limerick informing, ‘I got 2 newspapers regular from you. I hope you get them as regular from me. I sent one every mail but one since I came here’ (Ne 1). Occasionally, a newspaper’s purpose was to publicly attest to a migrant’s success such as that sent by Daniel Strong to his cousin John who remarked, ‘Thanks for the newspaper. It let me know you have succeeded in a foreign land’ (St 6). Mostly, however, newspapers included commentary on public events that were discussed in greater depth than a migrant was either willing or able to remark upon. Thus Margaret Kilpatrick announced in 1862, ‘There was a great election here but I will send you a paper so you will have the news’ (Ki 1). More than fifty years later, in 1913, Alexander McKelvey informed, ‘We had a pretty bad time here with the strike as you will see by the papers I send’ (Ky 3). John Armstrong, on the other hand, provided some commentary to accompany the newspapers he sent, particularly when his own impressions diverged from that offered by the press: ‘I hope the papers I send you will reach their destination as I shall leave you in a great measure to draw your own conclusions from them as to how near we may be to peace. The “Southern Cross” gives a most disheartening account of the progress, or non progress, of affairs but I would not recommend you to take much notice of it’ (Ar 3). Despite disagreeing with the newspaper account, John Armstrong did not judge the quality of the paper. Medical doctor Alexander McKelvey, on the other hand, swiftly condemned colonial newspapers which he contrasted unfavourably with Irish publications: ‘I like the Daily Irish Times especially. It is a relief after the Dailies here. I am sending the N. Z. Herald with the notice of our marriage in it by this post. It is the best here & you will see it 92

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is a very scrappy publication not nearly so good as even the Derry papers’ (Ky 1). Only one other correspondent named an Irish newspaper. From Sligo Robert Hughes sent the Connaughtman. Only three other colonial newspapers apart from the Southern Cross and New Zealand Herald were named; they were the Lyttelton Times, the Canterbury Times, and the Press, the supplements of which James McIlrath sent to readers in Killinchy. These supplements contained ‘a summary of the news for the month in a conden[se]d form and only what I have read before’ (Il 31). In later years, postcards were also exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland. Both Agnes Lambert and Alexander McKelvey sent vistas of Auckland. ‘I have enclosed 3 Post-Cards of Auckland views’, Alexander informed his County Tyrone family in 1907. ‘You never sen[t] me any postcards of Gortin. Of course there may not be any published’ (Ky 2). In 1913 Alexander sent back panoramas of Rotorua: ‘I have sent you a Photo, of a geyser named Pohutu spouting or playing as they call it’ (Ky 3). Such physical images reinforced the textual impressions of New Zealand, and helped home readers visualise a distinctive terrain. While photographs and newspapers were frequently exchanged between family members in Ireland and New Zealand, miscellaneous other items were also sent and received, though on a less regular basis. Eight sequences feature references to such items, most of which were sent from Ireland. When James McIlrath received a book from home in 1875 he declared, ‘I have not read aneything since I left to please me like it (Bible excepted)’ (Il 24). Another book, received two years later, ‘I esteem as a pearl above price’ (Il 27). The following year Hamilton McIlrath’s family received a book, goblet, Bible, and ‘pretty socks’ (Il 28). From Tipperary, Lizzie Strong sent her cousin Daniel a handkerchief ‘as a token love and rememberance of the old times’ while her brother Martin sought curiosities from Daniel (St 4, 3). Meanwhile, gumdigger Patrick Quinn received a Christmas box from his brother in Belfast (Qu 3). Catherine Colgan exchanged albums between Antrim and Otago (Co 3). After learning of her mother’s death, Annie Dempsey warmly thanked her sister ‘for poor Mothers Hair. I hav it encased in glass. I will keep it in remembras of her as long as I live & then my children’ (De 11). Migrants did, occasionally, remit items from New Zealand to Ireland. In 1872 Edward Lysaght sent his father a watch. Edmund Lysaght’s dismissive response, however, may have made it the last gift he received from his migrant son: ‘I would lose £1 by repairing it and then it would be only worth £2 so you can see it was not worth much’ (Ly 7). In 1899 John O’Regan, writing to his niece in the United States, sent ‘a skeleton leaf and a little Fern’ (Rn 1). Four years later Annie Dempsey in Canterbury promised her sister, ‘The Dress will follow this letter by the first parcel mail that goes’ (De 11). Occasionally, the items exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland were religious tokens. These were confined to Catholic correspondents. After 93

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receiving news of her mother’s death in Carlow, Annie Dempsey wrote in 1903 from Canterbury to her sister enclosing ‘a little picture of our ladey of good Councle’ (De 11). Sister M. Patrick wrote from the Convent of Mercy at Borrisokane, County Tipperary, to May Sullivan enclosing ‘two blessed for five scapulars’ (Fa 8). All these items helped maintain and sustain the connexions between separated kinfolk. Besides receiving gifts from home, migrants also requested items. In 1877 John Gilmore sent for an unusual mix of items: the nationalist Freeman’s Journal and Unitarian books (Ge 7). His brother Andrew, meanwhile, sent a money order to the Ards Peninsula to obtain farming implements from Ireland (Ge 12). Money was also frequently exchanged between migrants and non-migrants. William Quinn, upon learning of his brother’s ill health from his nephew in 1906, remitted a substantial amount of money: ‘I send to your father a draft for one hunderd and ten pounds. It will be in a seperad Envelope to this. £80 for your father £20 for your ant Lizzia £5 for your self £5 for my Neice Jennie’ (Qu 4). Although the Gilmer series does not contain a list of money sent from the colony, Samuel Gilmer did ask his brother William in Monaghan to ‘let me know if I am to send you another remittance’ (Gr 1). Forty years earlier in 1846, Hanora Dwyer in Dromkeen eagerly informed her son of the receipt of a ‘Five pound order’ from a mystery donor (Dw 1). Hanora also received a letter from relatives who ‘say for me never to want during my life that they will always send me relief’ (Dw 1). This may have been a strategy to prevent her son, with his large family, feeling obliged to provide financial support. Alternatively, she may have hoped such a remark would remind Cornelius of his filial duties. Sometimes migrants remitted money with a stipulation as to what the funds should be spent on. In 1875, Canterbury farmer James McIlrath sent a draft order for £25 to his parents to ‘Buy something easy to go out in’ (Il 24). The following year from Otago, David McCullough requested his parents in County Down to ‘Tell Lizzie that she may be on the look out for a silver watch. By the next mail I will send her the money for one’ (Cu 4). It is unknown whether David fulfilled his promise. From Christchurch in 1880, William Cardwell sent money to Tonaghmore with an instruction that some of it was to be used to purchase a baby’s dress. He also expressed concern as to whether his previous donation had been received (Ca 2). William Quinn likewise sought confirmation that his substantial monetary transmissions had arrived safely in Belfast: ‘Writte me when you get this and let me know if the Money has been got all wright’ (Qu 4). Occasionally, migrant offers to contribute to the household income were rebuffed, as Philip Carroll discovered during his return visit to Tipperary in 1925: When I spoke about paying my board she was going to hit me with the frying pan. ‘The idea’ she says ‘of my only son coming home from New Zealand and wanting to pay for his board in his own house’. Needless to say I did not mention it again. 94

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On the contrary Mother insists [erased: th] on my taking a loan of some money from her which I cannot do unless I am absolutely stuck. (Cl 5)

Among those remitting money from Ireland to New Zealand was Catherine Colgan. She told her son Johnny McMullan to ‘put it to good use as you know money is so easily spent’. As John had previously sent £10 home from the colony his mother may have felt some compulsion to assist him (Co 3, 4). Philip Carroll also hoped to obtain funds from family members in Ireland during his return visit there in 1925. He initially received assistance from his mother and aunt but was reluctant to request further support: ‘asking of them for a loan of money is so hard as to be almost an impossibility’ (Cl 20). Upon learning of his aunt’s wealth, however, he told his wife, ‘I never knew she had so much money and only wish she would push some of it my way’ (Cl 24). Edward Lysaght was more fortunate in securing a sizeable sum during his return to Limerick. As he predicted optimistically to his wife, ‘I think I will take something handsome back with me’ (Ly 6). Although circumstances differed, these extracts provide further support for the findings of historians who have drawn attention to migrant correspondents seeking rather than giving financial aid.9 The exchange of money provides further proof of the lengths separated kinfolk went to in order to maintain their connexions with home and provide comfort for elderly parents. Migrants who failed to fulfil these obligations received searing condemnation. William Lysaght was particularly scathing of his cousins Patrick and Catherine: ‘Is it not an awful shame to say that Patsy or Kitty dont write. The three of them have their mother working for Her living now in her old age. If they had the least shame in them they would not allow such a thing’ (Ly 2). In condemning the failure of Patrick and Catherine to perform their filial duty, William was also highlighting his own adherence to such obligations. Unlike Irish-Australian letters, however, it is difficult to ascertain whether references to old age and illness were implicit appeals for material assistance.10 From Antrim in 1901, Catherine Colgan referred to her bout of influenza and informed her daughter, ‘Your Uncle Thomas Haughey is very low. He has dropsy’ (Co 6, 7). The Hughes sequence contains details of many ailments that afflicted the ageing parents of Thomas Hughes throughout the 1920s. Seventy-four-year-old Robert Hughes informed his son, I am undergoing a course of mechanical treatment for Rh[e]umatism & stiff joints and good circulation of blood with an instrument called a ‘Pulsehaun’ and great 9 Charlotte Erickson, Invisible immigrants: the adaptation of English and Scottish immigrants in nineteenth-century America (London, 1972), p. 5; Patrick O’Farrell, Letters from Irish Australia 1825–1929 (Kensington, N.S.W., 1984), p. 133; Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, pp 511–13. 10 See the discussion in Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, pp 504–7.

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results are following it. The inventer of the instrument went down with the ‘Titanic’ so is a rare little instrument worked on wheels with a Batt[e]ry inside that vibrates the whole frame. I have two Patients under my treatment along with myself. (Hu 9)

Several years later, Mary Hughes also announced her affliction with rheumatism (Hu 18). The exchange of letters therefore played a vital role in the maintenance of ties between separated kinfolk. Joy at the receipt of letters together with complaints about irregular communication and the hazards of delivery, testify to the importance of correspondence. Letters were, however, only one element in maintaining these connexions. The exchange of newspapers, photographs, money, and gifts all served to preserve these bonds. Having documented the emotional importance of letters for migrants and their connexions in Ireland, we can now turn to accounts of the actual voyage. Migrants drew upon the reports of the journey provided by their contacts abroad, and the descriptions supplied by correspondents of their own voyage gave intending migrants essential information about the conditions to expect on their own journey.

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‘Seas may divide’ The voyage In 1876, 28-year-old John Gilmore and his 18-year-old sister Alice travelled from the Ards Peninsula, County Down, to Gravesend in Kent, where they prepared to embark as assisted passengers on the Bebington. As they were listed as a labourer and domestic servant on the shipping registers, their fare of £16 each had already been paid by the New Zealand government. Altogether, 272 passengers prepared to make the voyage on the 17-year-old ship, with the Gilmores among 135 natives of Ireland.1 The vessel’s immediate destination was Auckland, but John and Alice would eventually move on to Tauranga, where their brother Andrew had settled two years earlier. Although assisted passengers had little choice as to the vessel on which they voyaged to New Zealand, migrants were often keenly aware of a ship’s capabilities. John Gilmore ascertained details of his ship’s statistics prior to its departure: This ship is 941 tons reg’d and is 13 years old – has made several voyages with passengers with great success. She is not an extreme but of a medium size and I beli[e]ve her to be a good ship in bad weather so far as my judgment goes and I think I ought to know something about it. . . . I made a mistake about the Capt name. It is not Scott. It is Holdich. (Ge 2)

That the ship was in fact four years older than John indicated suggests that accurate information was not always obtainable. And despite his optimism, passengers would later recollect the 1876 passage of the Bebington ‘as a very grim episode in their lives’.2 Misfortune characterised the sailing from its very outset. A day after leaving Gravesend on 26 February 1876, the Bebington collided with another ship in the English Channel and had to dock at Portsmouth for repairs. The delay was later held responsible for outbreaks of disease on board after less than a week at sea. Foul weather also contributed. As the despatching officer alleged, ‘nothing but gales of wind and heavy rains prevailed and that to the constant state of damp that consequently have existed is to be attributed the generation

1 2

IM 15/263, N.A.W. Henry Brett, White wings (Christchurch, 1976; 1st ed., Auckland, 1924–8), i, 173. 97

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of the low fever and not to any defect in the ventilation of the ship’.3 The sickness, combined with bad flour and no bread for three months, added to the discontent of the passengers. Excessive rolling of the ship, insufficient coal, and a condenser that ceased working three months after departure – and two months prior to arrival – were also documented by the surgeon superintendent.4 It is not surprising that such conditions instigated a potential revolt, provoking the captain to comment, ‘The passengers as a body have been exceedingly troublesome, and I shall have occasion to prosecute several on our arrival in Auckland.’5 Disputes between the ship’s officers and passengers were later attributed to the officers’ ‘endeavouring to keep order, and enforce cleanliness and discipline’.6 John Gilmore proved himself a capable, diligent passenger. At the height of the fever he was the only individual to volunteer for nursing duty. In recognition of this action, Captain Holdich recommended that John be paid £2 10s, being one month’s wages.7 Coping in such trying circumstances cannot have been easy for, as John later wrote, 17 died and strange to say that 2 of the young men that went from Belfast was the first that died and 2 Brothers. There name was Trassy. Robert seen them in Belfast. We had very good passage but long and at times looked very hard when our fellow passengers and country men were going overboard so often and did not of course know when it would come our turn but thank Him it has not come yet.8 (Ge 6)

The full extent of disease, death, and illness on board the Bebington was summarised succinctly by Alice after arrival at Auckland: ‘We had a great deal of sickness 67 cases of Tiphod Tiphos Scallot & Remucicate [scarlet and rheumatic] fever & 16 deaths with childern 4 or 5 besides & 12 births’ (Ge 5).9 It is hardly surprising that the ship was labelled a ‘floating hospital’.10 Apart from death and disease, the sailing was characterised by passenger discomfort. Alice later described her compartment during the ship’s month-

3 Edward A. Smith, R.N. Despatching Officer, London, 7 December 1876, to Sir William Tyrone Power, Agent-General for New Zealand, IM 5/4/21, N.A.W. 4 William Russell, Surgeon Superintendent, 29 May 1876, to the Agent-General for New Zealand, IM 5/4/21, N.A.W. 5 IM 15/263, N.A.W. 6 A.J.H.R., 1877, D-3, enclosure 1 in no. 3. 7 IM 5/4/21, N.A.W. The ship’s surgeon was granted an extra £50. 8 22-year-old Francis and 20-year-old Richard Tracey died from typhus fever on 8 and 12 April respectively. For a list of those who died during the passage see the New Zealand Herald, 17 July 1876, p. 2. 9 Alice Gilmore’s figures are similar to those of the surgeon superintendent who reported 70 cases of fever, 17 deaths, and 10 births. 10 New Zealand Herald, 17 July 1876, p. 2.

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long transit through the tropics: ‘There was only two side hatches & no portholes in our compart & 54 people’ (Ge 5). Besides cramped accommodation, the Gilmores also complained about the strict segregation of the sexes, a regulation which hindered their interaction: ‘Alice and I do not get speaking much as the young women are not allowed with anybody else’, revealed a disgruntled John at the outset of the voyage (Ge 2). This segregation was also enforced when the ship spent a month in quarantine at Motuihe Island after arriving in Auckland. These letters, together with official accounts of the voyage, show that the journey was a pivotal part of migrant transition from the Old to New World. Though most Irish migrants travelling to New Zealand in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries underwent a far less harrowing voyage than that experienced on the Bebington, many aspects of the journey documented by the Gilmores are echoed in the letters of other Irish correspondents. Generally, historians have used voyage accounts to either highlight the peril of the passage or provide a narrative technique to transport migrants from origin to destination.11 Tony Simpson’s study of British migration to New Zealand, on the other hand, charted some of the changes taking place during the nineteenth-century voyage.12 Megan Hutching, meanwhile, looked at New Zealand’s assisted British migrants arriving between 1947 and 1975, and was concerned with the crossing for its own sake.13 Other historians have used the voyage to scrutinise issues of power. Charlotte Macdonald, in her examination of single women migrants to Canterbury in the 1850s and 1860s, considered that for some, ‘the voyage became a series of attempts to subvert and evade an authoritative regime’.14 In similar vein, David Hastings explored the struggles over power and knowledge that characterised the voyage to New Zealand between 1870 and 1885. Analysing shipboard diaries in conjunction with other sources, Hastings concluded that discipline was constantly challenged.15 These investigations, however, have largely utilised shipboard diaries, rather than personal letters. Historians of the voyage to Australia have been more concerned with disruption than power. Andrew Hassam viewed subversion as a threat to the journey’s stability and its narration, but contends that journals were

11

David Murray Hastings makes this point in ‘The voyage out: a study in power and knowledge, 1870–1885’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1998, p. 3. 12 Tony Simpson, The immigrants: the great migration from Britain to New Zealand, 1830–1890 (Auckland, 1997). 13 Megan Hutching, Long journey for sevenpence: assisted immigration to New Zealand from the United Kingdom, 1947–1975 (Wellington, 1999). 14 Charlotte Macdonald, A woman of good character: single women as immigrant settlers in nineteenth-century New Zealand (Wellington, 1990), p. 73. 15 Hastings, ‘The voyage out’, p. 169. 99

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constructed to maintain continuous connexion with the Old World.16 Patrick O’Farrell, meanwhile, in his edition of Irish–Australian correspondence, alleges that the voyage ‘disrupted traditional life patterns and hastened the collapse of old practices, particularly in relation to religion and social authority’.17 By contrast, the absence of journey accounts in the letters of Irish migrants travelling to Australia prompted David Fitzpatrick to conclude ‘that the voyage was more exciting and alarming in imagination than in personal experience’.18 Fitzpatrick’s conclusion, however, was based on the selection of letters included in his collection. In other letters, in which Irish migrants document the voyage to Australia, Fitzpatrick argued that one function ‘was to calm Irish fears about the perils of the voyage’.19 The survival of many voyage accounts from Irish migrants in New Zealand and the letters from Irish correspondents in O’Farrell’s edition suggest otherwise. We should not therefore assume from an absence of evidence that the journey was not experienced personally in a vivid manner. Neither should we assume from meagre evidence that homesickness was ‘another perennial of the voyage experience’ of post-Famine Irish migrants travelling to North America as Kerby Miller has claimed, citing only one example.20 With the exception of accounts of the Irish abroad, then, most historians have drawn upon shipboard diaries rather than personal letters to explore voyage experiences. Composed after arrival, representations in letters were condensed and may account for some differences between letters and diaries.21 But correspondence should not be abandoned, as many letters appear to be based on material scrupulously maintained in a shipboard diary. Shipboard diaries obviously provide greater evidence for examining the daily transformation of migrant lives and responses on board, but accounts in letters are of great importance, given the relative absence of shipboard diaries composed by Irish migrants to New Zealand. In these circumstances, the surviving correspondence of Irish migrants in New Zealand takes on a special salience. This chapter will document the changing character of the voyage to New Zealand, placing particular emphasis on the collective involvement of

16

Andrew Hassam, Sailing to Australia: shipboard diaries by nineteenth-century British emigrants (Manchester, 1994), pp 105, 4. 17 Patrick O’Farrell, Letters from Irish Australia, 1825–1929 (Kensington, 1984), p. 2. 18 David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995), p. 526. 19 David Fitzpatrick, ‘“Over the foaming billows”: the organisation of Irish emigration to Australia’ in Eric Richards (ed.), Poor Australian immigrants in the nineteenth century (Canberra, 1991), p. 145. 20 Kerby Miller, Emigrants and exiles: Ireland and the Irish exodus to North America (New York, 1985), p. 355. 21 David Fitzpatrick also makes the point that letters emerge from a different context than diaries. See Oceans of consolation, p. 27. 100

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family and friends before and during the actual journey. Such information networks ensured that migrants were equipped, physically and mentally, for the long voyage. Previous scholarly work, by focusing on subversion and the disruptive elements of the journey, has failed to incorporate this feature. Rather than attempting to alleviate fears about the passage, correspondents provided accurate accounts of the voyage, designed to assist intending migrants. Letters were a critical channel of communication in preparing for and undertaking the voyage to New Zealand. Many migrants imparted crucial information concerning their preparations for the voyage including details about the ship’s crew, conditions, and sailing times from newspapers and emigration agents. They then relayed this information back to their family and friends, not just to reassure, but also to guide acquaintances considering migration. From Belfast in 1874, for instance, Andrew Gilmore informed his family, I was in the office today. The ship’s name is Queen of Nations. New Zealand Government line belonging to Stretcher & Co. Liverpool. . . . I do not know her registered tonnage but there are a certain tonnage that cannot be under. There are 299 passengers. The agents are not satisfied as yet whether we will be going to Larne by Rail or that the tugs that bring her up may come up for us.22 (Ge 1)

For the McIlrath brothers of County Down their voyage was on the ‘famed and favourite Clipper’ Donald McKay, acclaimed as ‘One of the fastest, and most commodious ships in the World’.23 By the early twentieth century several steamships were hailed as ‘large full-powered steamers of the highest class’.24 A ship’s seaworthiness and skilled crew were critical considerations given that the duration of the voyage to New Zealand during the nineteenth century typically was anything from two to six months.25 Migrants therefore ascertained as much information as they could prior to sailing, drawing not only upon accounts from newspapers, agents, and handbooks, but also from pioneering migrants. Early passages undertaken by sail were long, dependent on winds and currents, and inherently unpredictable. The transition to steam

22 Actually, 347 passengers (332 Irish) sailed on the Queen of Nations, one of four ships that sailed direct from Belfast to New Zealand between 1874 and 1875. 23 The advertisement containing this proclamation appeared in the Belfast Newsletter, 6 November 1860. Completed in 1855, the Donald McKay was the last ship specifically commissioned by Baines and Company. See Michael K. Stammers, The passage makers (Brighton, 1978), p. 332. 24 A.J.H.R., 1905, D-9, p. 3. 25 In 1875, during the Vogel migration period, the White Rose took 150 days to reach Canterbury from Plymouth, while in 1886 the Rimutaka arrived at Port Chalmers from Plymouth after just 39 days at sea. The median travelling time during the period of assisted migration was 92 days.

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not only shortened the length of time the passage took, but also resulted in larger ships reinforced with iron to accommodate powerful steam engines. By the later nineteenth century these technological developments allowed the voyage to be completed in about six weeks. In part, such improvements were spurred by the competitive nature of shipping as rival fleets attempted to record speedy journeys and proclaim their vessels the fastest. The cost of the fare to New Zealand was also critical. Passengers travelling without official assistance needed to find the resources to pay for their fare. Michael and Patrick Flanagan, for instance, received £14 for their fares to Australia in 1859 from their grandfather. They also had to pay the transit cost from Australia to New Zealand the following decade. Many migrants availed of assisted and nominated passages. Together with his father and an acquaintance Edward Lysaght paid the £80 bond that enabled the migration of five family members from Doon, County Limerick, to Auckland in 1864.26 During the period of assisted and nominated migration between the 1870s and 1880s, the passage cost between £13 and £17, with most shipping companies setting £14 as the standard fare for adult passengers. Among those companies transporting migrants to New Zealand were Patrick Henderson and Company, Shaw Savill and Company, the New Zealand Shipping Company, and the Albion Company. By 1905 the ordinary fare had increased to £19 for a berth in a four-berth third-class cabin, though reduced rates made the same transit available for £10. A lower rate of £4 16s for the same berth was available for domestic servants in 1911 while ten years later domestics could travel free of charge. Also, by 1921 open nomination was practised, whereas nomination had previously been restricted to near relatives by blood or marriage. At this time the rate for third-class travel in a four-berth cabin was £26.27 Among those arranging for the assisted migration of their kinfolk during this period were Michael, Jack, and Paddy Farrell. As Michael mentioned to Jack, ‘If Paddy has not arranged for one or all of the passages try and collect £26 between the three of yous and I will pay the other £26. It is up to us to try and do something for them’ (Fa 2). The role of family networks in organising migration, then, continued to operate well into the twentieth century. As well as considering a ship’s capabilities and arranging the cost of the voyage, many migrants voyaged initially from Ireland to England to connect with a colonial-bound vessel. Popular ports of departure in both the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were London, Plymouth, and Glasgow, while ships sailing direct from Ireland departed from Belfast or Queenstown (modern-day Cobh). Though the crossing from Ireland to Britain was relatively short – the McIlraths took sixteen hours to travel from Belfast to Liverpool in 1860 – it was often the first introduction migrants had to the physical hardships of migration. James McIlrath claimed bravely, ‘I was

26 27

68/64, Register of Assisted Immigrants, Repro 4711/448, N.A.A. These facts and figures are derived from A.J.H.R., 1900–1925, D-9. 102

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not the least afraid the waves dashing over the deck’, but he did reveal that ‘Hamilton was the first of us three. He and William vomited time about and both together. I went to seeing some water for them and after drinking myself vomited directly but was shortly better’ (Il 1). Seasickness, coupled with the company of friends and a sense of adventure, must also have diverted travellers from the pain of separation. Once in England migrants were preoccupied with obtaining last minute necessities for the journey. Financial concerns engrossed the McClures, who travelled from London to Otago in 1860. Several days before their departure, Gordon firmly reassured his sisters in Belfast that ‘All money matters are settled’ (Ce 2). Gordon’s older brother James also had serious issues to contemplate: ‘We are all about to start for Newzealand in a few days and as you know I am not very strong. I think it as well to take a wife with me’ (Ce 1). He then provided details of his new bride, the daughter of a London solicitor. The practicality of his decision was evident some years later when Gordon wrote home from Southland voicing his intention to return to Ireland to find a bride ‘which can’t be done without in a place like this’ (Ce 4). Gordon McClure’s more immediate preoccupation, however, concerned the voyage’s length. Clearly aware of the long and tedious weeks ahead of him, Gordon resolved to spend the time fruitfully, telling his sisters, ‘I am going to teach myself to draw on Board ship. I have buught the first 6 books on drawing & will endeavour to learn some[thin]g of Landscape’ (Ce 2). The McClures’ response to their impending migration reveals that their relocation was a wellorganised operation. James and Hamilton McIlrath, meanwhile, had to contend with disreputable characters operating at the port in Liverpool. Conscious of their tactics, James could reassure his parents, ‘The reports we heard of the lads in Liverpool was too true. The are a sore set but we watched the Boys. We carried out our own Boxes and 4 of us got a cart for 1-6 to carry our Boxes to the ship officer. We are clear of Liverpool with very little expenee’ (Il 1). Such awareness contrasts with Miller’s assertion that ‘The Irish countrymen’s relative poverty and ignorance made them especially vulnerable to the wiles of ticket agents, shippers, passage brokers, lodging-house keepers, porters or “runners”, shipmasters, and sailors.’28 Early Irish migrants to North America may have possessed less knowledge, but by the time of the McIlraths’ departure previous reports about such underhand activities enabled the brothers to vigilantly counteract such threats. The McIlraths also had to ensure that they had essential items required for the journey. ‘We got the bedding and tin ware at what we expected but . . . we had nothing for tea pot’, James McIlrath revealed in 1860 (Il 1). In ascertaining what items would accompany them on board migrants were guided by official recommendations. In the mid 1870s men were instructed to take eight shirts (two being warm), two pairs of stockings, two new pairs of

28

Miller, Emigrants and exiles, p. 253. 103

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

shoes, and two complete suits. Women, meanwhile, were obliged to bring similar stock including six chemises, two warm petticoats, six pairs of stockings, two pairs of shoes, and two strong gowns. These items were stored in boxes in the ten cubic feet allocated to each migrant. Such boxes, however, only appeared once a month during the voyage. Essential items required on a more regular basis were therefore contained in a canvas bag kept in each passenger’s berth.29 By the early twentieth century migrants travelled in compartments with two to six berths and were accompanied by greater amounts of luggage. Bedding was supplied free of charge by 1905,30 while tea was just as vital for twentieth-century travellers. As Brigid Dawson recounted warmly in 1924, The Lady in the cabin with me made Tea every morning about six oclock and gave Bridie and I ours in bed and it was lovely. Then when her Tea was done I bought the Tea and gave it to her so then I had a little claim on a cup for I had no Teapot with me to make it in and I bought bovril and made it several times. (Da 1)

A year after Brigid Dawson’s sailing Philip Carroll revealed, ‘The ships tea is vile’ but that a cabin mate ‘has his own teapot and ingredients’ (Cl 3). Apart from adhering to official regulations, migrants also relied on the advice of those already settled abroad. The arrangements made by Oliver McSparron before departing from County Londonderry for Australia in 1860 are unknown, but his eventual migration to New Zealand in 1861 was strategically arranged. At that time, Oliver announced that he and three acquaintances ‘are taking a horse and dray with us and some stores to last us a few months at the diggings’.31 In 1879 Christchurch accountant William Cardwell made the following recommendation for his brother John: If he has not already left I would not advise him to bring along stock with him. It is true the most things you have to buy here are considered dearer than at home but on the other hand if you have too large a stock you generally wear them all till the one suit is no better than the other: this is my experience. (Ca 1)

The range of preparations pursued by migrants indicates how well informed they were before the commencement of their voyage. Such organisation is suggestive of strong advisory networks based on the guidance of previous migrants. Some migrants, however, did not always heed the advice of experienced travellers. As Brigid Dawson regretted in 1924, ‘Of course Peter

29

A.J.H.R., 1874, D-3, p. 34. A.J.H.R., 1905, D-9, p. 3. 31 Oliver McSparron (Geelong) to his father Archibald McSparron (Umrycam), 8 September 1861, P.R.O.N.I., T/2743/1/7. 30

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did tell me what I would want but I could not believe it would be as warm or that a person would kneed as light clothing’ (Da 1). For migrants who arrived at port in 1874 without the necessary equipment, supplies such as a mattress, bedclothes, soaps, and utensils were available, but at a cost: 20 shillings for the kit.32 Free soap was also dispensed fifty years later but as Brigid Dawson complained that was hardly sufficient, for it was for personal use rather than for washing clothes (Da 1). Migrants also ensured that they had character references to enhance their progress in the colony, particularly vital for professionals wanting to operate in a new context. Tyrone medical doctor Alexander McKelvey travelled to the colony with glowing testimonials. Before his departure, Alexander’s father Robert received a note from Lord Abercorn informing him, ‘I have today forwarded a strong recommendation on your son’s behalf to the Agent-General for New Zealand.’33 Likewise, an Armagh native voyaged to Australia with ‘letters of high introduction’ (Ki 4). David McCullough, meanwhile, thanked his aunt ‘for the trouble you are taking to get a letter from Mr Vance. I have got three already’ (Cu 2). The type of declaration contained in such testimonials was presumably similar to that which accompanied Ann McCleland’s husband, Johann Heldt. Several prominent acquaintances, including Robert Peel Dawson, considered Johann not only ‘a first rate workman, but a person of the most upright & exemplary character, both in his public and private life, and we can recommend him to the patronage of any Gentleman with whom he may come in contact.’34 Such references were most likely to accompany migrants without kin in the colony upon whom they could rely for assistance. Despite ensuring they were equipped with all the necessary requirements, migrants were at the mercy of shipping companies concerning the date of travel. Ships rarely departed as scheduled and migrants who encountered delays before their final departure documented how they spent their time. David McCullough and his companion Alexander Young, for instance, arrived in London in 1875 where they obtained lodgings until the sailing of their ship. They spent most of the time sightseeing (Cu 3). Fifty years later Philip Carroll also had to occupy his time until the departure of his steamer. To while away the hours, he visited the cinema and admitted to ‘knocking around looking at the shops’. This delay inevitably incurred additional expense for accommodation, provoking Philip’s complaint, ‘just had to fork out 14/= for four meals and a bed’ (Cl 2). Such depletion of resources was undoubtedly a matter of extreme concern for migrants in both centuries who often had small and precious funds.

32

Emigration to New Zealand under the conduct of the general government, A.J.H.R., 1874, D-3, enclosure 3 in no. 40, p. 34. 33 Lord Abercorn to Robert McKelvey, 17 January 1902, P.R.O.N.I., D/1692/3/5. 34 Testimonial for John A. Heldt, 28 May 1859, P.R.O.N.I., T/3034/12. 105

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Migrants, then, discussed a range of factors prior to their voyage. A ship’s sailing record, gathering supplies, and documenting their setbacks were all discussed to offer future migrants a sound base on which to prepare for their journey. Information concerning the voyage itself was just as vital for intending migrants. Graphic accounts of shipping disasters, seasickness, and storms may have generated fear and apprehension among intending migrants, but at least prepared them for what lay ahead. Information about food provisions, sleeping accommodation, and delays in shipping times also enabled intending migrants to prepare for their journey. Once news circulated of a ship’s final sailing time, migrants were summoned on board and subjected to a medical inspection. Assembled on the poop, or stern of the ship, a doctor individually examined the passengers by checking their tongue. In suspicious cases, the throat and chest were also examined. If a passenger’s health was deemed unsatisfactory he or she was removed from the ship.35 Health checks were also carried out upon arrival. An account of Philip Carroll’s medical inspection on board the Ormonde in 1925 highlights the changing nature of the health checks. Travelling to New Zealand via Australia, he wrote that the ‘Passengers had to parade before the ships doctor’. They all received a ‘Medical Inspection Card for presentation the following morning when the port Doctor came aboard for Inspection’. Feeling unwell for a later inspection Philip had to provide a urine sample.36 Following the medical inspection the journey was under way, though not all vessels made a satisfactory start. The White Star barely avoided a collision shortly after it departed Liverpool in December 1859. As Oliver McSparron recounted vividly, ‘The tug boat towed us opposite to the shore of Cork where she was nearly run down by our vessel’ (Sp 1). He also described passing two wrecked ships. A day after the Andrew Reid left London in 1875, David McCullough ‘saw a German brig run into by a barque and it sunk almost immediately but all hands were saved’ (Cu 3). The Andrew Reid itself was ‘nearly run into by a three masted schooner. It was within a few inches of us’ (Cu 3). Such inauspicious beginnings cannot have helped the faint-hearted. Despite the slow start experienced by many ships they soon clocked up speeds of around ‘nine to eighteen nauts per hour except in a calm’ in 1860 while in 1925 Philip Carroll’s ship covered 270 miles per day (Sp 1; Cl 4). As ships set sail, seasickness soon followed and complaints of illness were universally recounted in all sequences of correspondence in which details of the journey appeared. Some suffered severely, including James McClure’s bride Emily who was laid low with seasickness for a month (Ce 3). Other female correspondents, such as Alice Gilmore and Bessie Macready, attested

35

See, for example, a description of the medical examination that took place on the Scimitar: Agent-General to the Minister of Immigration, 20 October 1874, A.J.H.R., 1875, D-2, no. 58. 36 This document was kindly supplied by Br Philip Carroll. 106

THE VOYAGE

vigorously to their sea legs: ‘I never was sea sick nor no other sickness not even a headacke’; ‘I was not sea sick all the time and most of the passengers were’ (Ge 5; Ma 1). The inclement weather encountered by many vessels at the outset of the voyage posed serious hazards besides seasickness. Indeed, readers at Moneyreagh in County Down must have been startled to receive David McCullough’s report that just days after his embarkation his ship ‘lost several sails the sea coming over her sides and filling our Cabins with water 3 or 4 inches deep’ (Cu 3). Such external chaos was mirrored internally, with passengers jostling for space on the rolling decks. In the nineteenth century steerage-class passengers were allocated bunks in compartments that were divided into three sections: for single men over the age of 12, single women over the age of 12, and married couples with children under 12 years of age. Conditions in steerage were cramped and stifling. Few migrants, however, made the voyage with as many passengers as accompanied Michael Dempsey on his journey from Carlow to New Zealand in 1888: ‘We had seven hundred and 50 Passengers besides the Crew and we had all Religeons on them’ (De 6). Over time, however, steerage accommodation and space improved as passenger comfort became a priority and as a shorter sailing time increased the frequency of journeys. The colonial government also specified regulations for shipping contractors. By 1925 Philip Carroll’s voyage in third-class with eighty-nine passengers involved sharing a cabin with just three other men. Such developments reflected shipbuilding knowledge that larger, longer ships were not only more comfortable but cheaper to operate. Advances in shipbuilding and enhanced travel opportunities also reflected growing awareness among passengers of the facilities offered by vessels operating other routes. Cabin-class passengers, by contrast, travelled in greater comfort not only in the twentieth century, but also in the nineteenth. David McCullough’s journey in first-class on the Andrew Reid, for instance, was with ‘only 20 passangers on board and we got on very comfortable together’ (Cu 3). His cabin consisted of ‘an old Gentleman a[nd] a youth steward his wife and three children’ (Cu 3). When Alexander McKelvey voyaged to Wellington in 1902 on the Papanui he shared a first-class saloon with just two other passengers.37 Such division has provoked commentators such as Don Charlwood to conclude that ‘life on board ship mirrored the class structure of Britain’.38 Reports from cabin-class passengers citing the availability of better facilities and freedom, including proximity to the top deck and mingling with the captain and crew, support Charlwood’s argument. Cabin-class migrants could also take advantage of substantial servings of food, with livestock as fare. Steerage passengers, on the other hand, had to make do with dry provisions. Throughout the 1870s, male and female passengers were allocated similar

37 38

MIC T5371 SS 1/479, no. 25, in N.A.W. Don Charlwood, The long farewell (Ringwood, 1981), p. 105. 107

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

rations, including specified amounts of beef, pork, flour, biscuits, rice or oatmeal, potatoes, tea, coffee, sugar, butter, suet, and water.39 Even the dispersal of these rations was regulated, as David McCullough informed relatives in Moneyreagh: ‘We had to get our meals and provisions served out once a week’ (Cu 3). Typically, this consisted of dry goods, while hot drinks and meals were collected each day. James McIlrath, voyaging on the Donald McKay in 1860, noted, ‘there is plenty of allowence plenty of flesh meat to dinner and potatoes but the are all broken and the skins on them which is caused by being boiled in a boiler and lifted out with a small shovel’ (Il 2). Provisions on Edward Lysaght’s return journey in 1872, on the other hand, proved substandard (Ly 6). Despite this, there is no evidence that Lysaght’s complaint became a power struggle with the ship’s authorities to rectify the situation as Hastings identifies in his analysis of shipboard diaries.40 By the early twentieth century food was reported upon favourably. ‘The meat on the boat was splendid. You could not wish for better’, Brigid Dawson enthused (Da 1). A year later, when Philip Carroll returned to Ireland, he attested to the abundance and tastiness of the provisions (Cl 3). Some migrants took food on board with them. ‘I hope you will send me word how you enjoyed your bread and butter and eggs’, Margaret Kilpatrick’s mother later instructed (Ki 2). In order to dispense rations in an orderly fashion, mess routines were quickly established. Shortly after boarding the Donald McKay in 1860 James McIlrath wrote a brief note home describing the procedure: We will be put into Messes from four to eight each in his turn to be butler for a week. There has been nothing yet but confusion every one running for their own. Imagine about three Hundred running to one door as soon as the Bell is rung for who can be first but after this one will go for each mess. (Il 2)

According to Hassam, cabins came to acquire connotations of ‘home’ in that the cabin was a feminine domestic space in which males were subservient to the dominant female role of housekeeper.41 James McIlrath’s comment, however, reveals little indication of such gender divisions. Separated from female passengers, single men had to depend on their own initiative. Hassam has also claimed that the representation of home at sea was maintained by the segregation of the sexes.42 Certainly, a variety of regulations were enforced to restrict male–female interaction but such separation did not reflect ‘home’ on land where men and women communicated with

39 Emigration to New Zealand, under the conduct of the general government, A.J.H.R., 1874, enclosure 3 in no. 40, p. 34. 40 Hastings, ‘The voyage out’, p. 109. 41 Hassam, Sailing to Australia, p. 63. 42 Ibid., pp 63, 69.

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greater freedom. As Hamilton McIlrath subsequently reported, contrasting a bachelor’s life in Canterbury with family life in County Down: ‘No woman in the house to trouble us’ (Il 8). Obviously, by this criterion, his voyage would have been a blissful undertaking. Other correspondents were less pleased with such restrictions. Alice Gilmore, for instance, expressed her dissatisfaction that There was no communitation between male & female at least there was none allowed. I could only speak to Jonny twice a week that was Monday & Tursday from 30.3. PM till 4. PM. That was not much & sometimes not at all for the would not believe that we were brother & sister. The often told me in our compartment that I had run off with him. (Ge 5)

Despite her obvious disappointment at this lack of contact, there is no evidence that Alice or her brother challenged the regulations. Hastings, however, has shown that men and women were frequently successful in their efforts to communicate.43 Rules were somewhat more relaxed by the time Philip Carroll returned to Ireland in 1925. During his passage through the tropics, male and female passengers slept on deck. Division, however, was still deemed appropriate: ‘Ladies on the port side. Gents on the starboard side’ (Cl 4). Despite regulations to keep male and female passengers segregated, the crew occasionally mingled with female migrants. Sometimes this interaction produced favourable results such as Alice Gilmore’s observation that a fellow migrant ‘is to be married to one of the sailors in Auckland in a few days’ (Ge 5). The behaviour of some sailors on emigrant ships was less savoury and involved sexual harassment of female passengers. Writing to his parents in County Down in 1861, James McIlrath described the gallant intervention of a fellow passenger in defending female honour on board the Donald McKay: That night a sailor would kiss two girls by force. A man interfered. The sailor took his knife and said he would have his life on the spot if not he would befor he reached Melbourne. The man met him the next morning. He struck the sailor and put the pipe he was smoking down his throat. He died in a few hours. (Il 3)

Such an episode supports the belief held by emigration agents that passengers would challenge such conduct by the crew.44 The most common means to protect female propriety, however, was the appointment of matrons. Matrons not only prevented the communication of single women with the cabin class and crew, but also ensured berths were cleaned and order maintained. Some also supplied culinary expertise. As Alice Gilmore commented appreciatively,

43 44

Hastings, ‘The voyage out’, pp 78–80. Macdonald, A woman of good character, makes this point, pp 81–2. 109

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

‘The superintendent of ours was a French lady & in general the are good cooks’ (Ge 5). Elizabeth Macready also acknowledged, ‘The Captain had his wife with him and she did all in her power to make us comfortable’ (Ma 1). Some migrant correspondents established congenial companionship with crew members. Edward Lysaght, for instance, struck up an alliance with the cook on his ship and instructed his wife, ‘If the cook should get back before me do anything you can for him as he is a very decent man’ (Ly 6). Unlike Hastings’ findings, there is no evidence in the letters that cooks and stewards were subject to abuse from fellow crewmen.45 Though few correspondents reported as favourably as Edward Lysaght, analysis of shipping reports in official documents and newspaper accounts relating to the migrants in this study reveals that the crew’s conduct was exemplary. Most commentators, however, have stressed crew conflict with passengers. Hastings, for instance, describes the way in which crew could threaten or humiliate passengers, male and female.46 Macdonald focuses on the crew’s abuses of female passengers.47 Few studies, however, consider the role played by women in encouraging such interaction, particularly their cunning attempts to subvert restrictions and communicate with male passengers and crew.48 Apart from protecting women, the only evidence of passenger insurrection in the correspondence was cited by David McCullough who reported, ‘one of the men drew his knife to the first Officer but was kept quiet after’ (Cu 3). The separation of the classes during the voyage has also been cited as a cause of dissension with steerage-class passengers attempting to usurp cabin privileges. Undoubtedly there were divisions between the classes yet apart from conflict between passengers and crew, which could be perceived as class conflict, no evidence of this exists in Irish–New Zealand correspondence. Dissension within classes, on the other hand, does appear, but only in Alice Gilmore’s hostile portrait of her fellow Catholic passengers. Her words provide confirmation for Hassam’s contention that occasionally ‘regional and religious divisions were reinforced rather than dissolved’:49 The most of the passangers was South of Ireland the roughest & worst class of people I am sure ever come here before & nearly all R. C. If you had only heard them praying when the thought the were in danger when she used to be rolling about. All the crowd belong to her said the never sailed in one lurched so much. The was

45

Hastings, ‘The voyage out’ points out that cooks and stewards performed tasks that were considered by other crew as ‘feminine’ and were therefore subjected to abuse, p. 45. 46 Ibid., pp 93–5. 47 Macdonald, A woman of good character, p. 82. 48 A voyage diary reproduced in Macdonald and Porter’s edition highlights this ingenuity. See Frances Porter and Charlotte Macdonald (eds), ‘My hand will write what my heart dictates’: the unsettled lives of women in nineteenth-century New Zealand as revealed to sisters, family, and friends (Auckland, 1996), pp 71–6. 49 Hassam, No privacy for writing, p. xxi. 110

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a great many never seen a ship before till the left Ireland & the were in the greatest state if there was a sea come over her. Ever you seen prayin to the Holy Mother & all other Half way subitutates & the next day if she ran any studdy [erased: illegible] like came dancing & singing & cursing & sweering & carry storyes & tell lies to the superintendent on thire shipmates. (Ge 5)

O’Farrell once attributed such harsh Protestant responses to ‘the intolerant attitudes generated by the separation of the religious communities in Ulster being confirmed and hardened by the shipboard proximity’. 50 There is, however, evidence to support a contradictory opinion of his that ‘The circumstances of being thrown together, largely haphazard, into a packed makeshift community, exposed to common experiences and dangers for three to four months, did much to break down, before arrival in the colonies, the rigid religious and social divisions of the homeland.’51 Despite the harsh indictment of her fellow passengers, Alice Gilmore established a life-long friendship with Bridget Burke, to judge by her name one of the Catholic migrants whom Alice had condemned so vigorously. The women settled near each other at Te Puke and both married men of Irish birth. Elsewhere, examination of many voyage diaries maintained by Protestant passengers during their journey to New Zealand does reinforce the suggestion that Protestants deplored the practices of Irish Catholics. As Hastings has indicated, many Protestant diarists considered Catholics as savages – dirty and dishonest.52 How might we explain the relative absence of passenger or crew conflict in the letters sent home by Irish migrants in New Zealand compared with accounts of the journey by Hastings and Macdonald based on shipboard diaries? The contrast in source material seems the most likely explanation. Hastings and Macdonald relied upon shipboard diaries and official reports, sources that circulate more readily in the public sphere. Letters, on the other hand, were more often retained within a private domain. 53 Letters also demanded provision of a more concise, lucid account of the voyage. Time may also have diminished the memory of shipboard protests or correspondents may not have wished to discuss such incidents. Instead, migrants were keenly aware of their role in supplying up-to-date advice concerning preparations for the voyage and aspects of the voyage itself. According to Hassam, national rather than class identity concerned steerage passengers to Australia and this is borne out in Irish–New Zealand letters.54 The diverse origins of those on board the Donald McKay prompted James McIlrath to assess with some amazement, ‘I think there is people here

50 51 52 53 54

O’Farrell, Letters from Irish Australia, p. 28. Ibid., p. 19. Hastings, ‘The voyage out’, pp 89–90. On the difference between the two genres see Hassam, No privacy for writing, p. xv. Hassam, Sailing to Australia, p. 131. 111

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from all parts of the known world whole families young and old of every creed contry and clime’ (Il 2). Much more specifically, he classified his fellow passengers according to ethnic and regional divisions rather than religious or class lines: ‘There is two germans a Co Derry man a Co Armagh man a man from the Cottown and us three in one room’ (Il 1). James further observed, ‘The germans have both instruments of music and are playing at this time’. Days later his patience had worn thin and he growled with frustration, ‘I think there is some never goes to Bed. Last night the music the dancing and singing I think never ceased. It is disgusting’ (Il 1, 2). Constrained space undoubtedly generated tensions and disapproval of activities that under other circumstances might well have been tolerated and even engaged with. Passengers were not the only individuals to indulge in musical festivities. As Michael Dempsey recalled of his voyage in 1888 some sailors ‘never stopped dancing and drinking and playing music all the time’ (De 6). The religious provisions during his passage were just as fervent: ‘We had seven Priests and Bishop Moore and [word illegible] Nuns. We had mass twice and some grand sermons’ (De 6). The only other correspondent to remark on the religious provisions of the journey was James McIlrath, who drew his second letter home to an end by announcing, ‘I must finish as the minister is going to commence Divine worship’ (Il 2). As the north-east trade winds carried vessels towards the equator the settled weather facilitated a range of activities, as illuminated by David McCullough’s catalogue of events during his voyage in 1875. Card games were played every evening while during the day the sighting and catching of fish passed the time (Cu 3). During the month of March, David outlined a variety of attempts to capture fish and bird life: On the 8 we nearly caught a shark but the confounded rope slipped and we lost him. On the 22 we caught 5 Albatrosses a very large bird living on the sea and measuring from 18 to 20 feet from end to end of wings. On the 28 we were more fortunate and caught a shark. He meas[ured] 16 feet 4 inches from his nose to his tail. Such an ugly brute. The sailors dont show them any mercy. The soon cut him up and we tasted him for breakfast. It was not very nice. (Cu 3)

As Hassam has indicated, voyages were commonly replete with discoveries and ‘An emigrant diary could hardly consider itself authentic without a record of the wing-span of an albatross.’55 Other forms of entertainment included concerts and dances and in the twentieth century ‘plenty of reading matter’ (Cl 3). Philip Carroll also confided, ‘I could write a book on the things I have seen and heard during the six weeks I have been on the Arawa’ (Cl 4). Despite such intermittent distractions it was the ‘deadly monotony of the trip that gets on one’s nerves’

55

Ibid., p. 80. 112

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(Cl 4). To counteract this tedium, Philip spent all his time ‘on a deck chair under the awning reading smoking or talking’ (Cl 3). Brigid Dawson, who sailed to New Zealand in 1924, adopted other measures, notably washing clothes. Her fastidious undertaking of this activity, however, meant that she was only briefly occupied: ‘I did wash a few times and Ironed them but that could be done before breakfast time as the day you intended to wash we would get up early to get it done’ (Da 1). Despite the boredom of long stretches at sea, the letters give no indication of homesickness, which Kerby Miller found characterised the voyage of postFamine Irish migrants to North America.56 Irish correspondents voyaging to New Zealand also remained silent on matters such as hygiene and sanitation. The presence of rats, cockroaches, and lice were seemingly deemed either unfit for discussion, or so commonplace as not to be worth mentioning. In the nineteenth century, the sailors held a Dead Horse Day one month after departure. David McCullough provided a succinct summary: It is this way. Before the sailors leaves London the generally have an allowance of one months pay and the call this a dead horse because the have to work for nothing that month like and when that month is up the make up something like a horse and then the draw him up the mast and sing a comic song and then cut him down and away he goes with the waves. It was fine fun for us all. This day was also the Captains youngest boys birthday and we all drank his health in the Captains cabin.

A week later, with the crossing of the line, ‘came the second sailors day it was Father Neptune. This time the seamen dress up in all kinds of dresses and walk about the vessel. The then call upon the passangers who have not been to sea before and shave them and give them a bath. Everybody enjoyed this much’ (Cu 3). When David McCullough’s ship crossed the line, there was ‘a tremendo[u]s thunderstorm such as is not seen on land. The lightining shivered our foremast and went into the forecastle’ (Cu 3). Other correspondents, including Alice Gilmore, complained of the intense heat as the ship crawled through the tropics. ‘We could not bear any cloths on us. I & a few other never slept any during that six weeks’ (Ge 5). By the time Philip Carroll returned to Ireland in 1925, the terminology may have altered but the predicament remained the same: ‘On account of the slow motion of the boat the heat going through the Canal was something awful. There was not a breath of wind and the perspiration rolled off us in bucketsful.’ Such conditions prompted Philip to declare, tongue-in-cheek, ‘I do not think Hades can by any possibility be any warmer. If it is well I must take jolly good care that I do not go there.’ However, the opening in 1914 of the Panama Canal, a waterway connecting the Atlantic

56

Miller, Emigrants and exiles, p. 355. 113

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

and Pacific Oceans, illustrates the changing nature of ocean travel. For passengers from Australasia, the Canal shortened travel time by at least 2,000 miles. The blistering warmth continued to linger as vessels departed the tropics and 600 miles away from Panama Philip Carroll remarked wearily, ‘We are experiencing that oppressive muggy heat now and everyone is feeling limp and seedy’ (Cl 4). James McIlrath, on the other hand, reported his crossing of the equator in more subdued tones: ‘The weather was very warm crossing the line. The Sun was fair over head and no shadow whatever’ (Il 3). Though most ships crossed the equator a month after sailing, the crossing of the line by Oliver McSparron’s ship just three weeks after setting sail sparked his observation that ‘we were going at no slow rate. We generally sailed at from nine to eighteen nauts per hour except in a calm’ (Sp 1). Many ships experienced a tedious trawl through the tropics, their time hampered by the doldrums. Once past the equator vessels had to collect the south-east trade winds and at this point had usually completed half the passage. Several ships voyaging to New Zealand in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were compelled to stop at ports to take in supplies, providing a welcome diversion. Passengers eagerly disembarked and reflected on their surroundings. Michael Dempsey made many such stopovers during his voyage to New Zealand in 1888 including ‘Naples Suez and in Aden and Albany and Adelaid[e] and Bandimonds [Van Diemens] land. I seene i seene Spain and mount visuvan’. As with modern-day stopovers, however, excessive charges were levied against sojourners: ‘Gibberalter was the ownly cheap place. You would get a five naggon of Wine for eight pence and eight pence for a Pound of tobbcco but you could not get much are [or] you would be fined if it was found with you’ (De 6). The following century, when Philip Carroll made his journey to Ireland, his ship docked at Cristobal. From there several passengers took the train to Colon and had ‘a few spots bought some fruit and had a look at the city which is mostly composed of niggers, Chinese & Japanese with a fair sprinkling of Yanks’ (Cl 4). Once out of the tropics, ships sailing to New Zealand in the nineteenth century continued towards the Cape of Good Hope where violent winds and rough seas once again characterised the voyage, prompting some correspondents to supply graphic images. ‘Round the cape of good hope the weather is very uncertin’, James McIlrath disclosed bleakly. ‘Squals come like whirlwind which rents the old canvass like paper’ (Il 3). As David McCullough’s vessel neared the colony it encountered ‘some tremendous seas and come over our sides and broke away about 16 feet of our bulworks’ (Cu 3). The White Star, on which Oliver McSparron was travelling, was struck by lightning. It fractured the main mast and ran down a chain to the coppering of the bulwarks. It tore it up in some places and melted it in others and made its way out through the bulwarks into the water. . . . If a thousand cannon had been fired in one volley it would not have been as loud as the roar it made when it struck the water. (Sp 1) 114

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Bessie Macready, who voyaged to Canterbury in 1878 on board the Pleiades, vividly described two storms after passing the Cape of Good Hope. The first occurred in early February when the sea ‘rushed into our sleeping cabins and kept dashing backwards and forwards until we got it baled out. This occupied our time from breakfast till dinner with Steward and third mate to help us and the captain with his sleeves rolled giving what aid he could’ (Ma 1). Though Hassam argues that storms stirred up confusion, the response of Bessie’s crewmates suggests anything but an erratic reaction to impending chaos.57 A second storm brewed the following month with Bessie observing that ‘the roaring of the wind, the rattling of things all around us The creaking of the timbers and dashing of the sea against the ships side was enough to strike terror into a stout heart’. She further noted, ‘It seemed as if the Ships side would have been driven in by the force of the waves. The sound was like that of a cannon ball. Then when it broke over the ship the sound of the rushing waters and the shiver that went through the ship was alarming’ (Ma 1). Such episodes also startled seasoned travellers. As Michael Dempsey reported gravely: ‘The waves come rite over her and tore two of the soils in pieces. If mary was there then and here [hear] the sailors cursing you would think every moment the last’ (De 6). Just as Irish Protestant and Irish Catholic responses to storms were similar, so too was there little divergence in male and female reactions. Despite the potential for physical harm posed by storms, Bessie Macready ventured to the poop to view the scene, a move that Hassam would perceive as transgressing traditional gender boundaries:58 the sight that presented itself to me was truly grand. The sea was covered with little hills as it were as far as the eye could reach and each of these topped with white spray and constantly in motion. Now and again the sea would fall in one part, then a number of these hills would come together forming one great peak which would then break the spray rising to a great height and when the sun shone on it presenting all the colors of the rainbow. A feeling of admiration and awe came over me when I looked at it. The Officers said I was brave to come on deck at such a time. (Ma 1)

The newspaper report of the storms encountered by the Pleiades was less lively, merely noting, ‘The passage with the exception of two heavy gales, has been a very fine one.’59 Illness and loss of life were also unwelcome elements of the voyage though no correspondent attributed death to accidents arising from storms. Drink, sun, sickness, and misadventures were more readily related. The several fatalities that took place on the Donald McKay in 1860 were summarised by

57 58 59

Hassam, Sailing to Australia, p. 104. Ibid., p. 152. Lyttelton Times, 12 March 1878. 115

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James McIlrath as follows: a sailor fell from a loft into the sea and despite efforts to save him drowned; the cook became ill and died; and ‘a Woman was seen on deck at 4 in the morning and could never be seen again’ (Il 3). The nature of her disappearance, be it murder, an accident, or suicide, is unknown. Other factors caused the death of two passengers on Michael Dempsey’s ship: ‘We had two deaths on Bord in the Red Sea one from drink and the other Sunstroke’ (De 6). The most susceptible passengers to disease and death at sea, as on land, were children. When the Heldt family sailed to New Zealand in 1859 on the Mermaid, a White Star Line clipper, fellow passenger James Qualtrough reported solemnly in his diary, ‘On Saturday night a child died belonging to Mr. Heldt, a German by nation, and, I believe, a good man.’60 A child also died before the Bebington’s departure from Portsmouth, but John Gilmore optimistically predicted, ‘I don’t know what was the matter but it is most likely one out of so many would die on shore and one thing is certain will come and we will have births before the matter as it is’ (Ge 4).61 That was certainly the case during the voyage of the Wennington in 1874 when three deaths were countered by ten births (including a son to the Sullivans of County Limerick).62 Despite the potential danger posed by the sea voyage, James Belich’s claim that parents played ‘New Zealand roulette with their children’ is exaggerated.63 Certainly contemporary comment acknowledged the ‘exceedingly large’ average death rate of infants, compared with other age groups, sailing to the colony in 1874.64 But the 18.8 per cent of infant deaths cited that year is lower than the 23 per cent infant death rate occurring in England and Wales earlier that decade.65 High infant mortality was therefore characteristic of the society the emigrants were leaving, not simply a consequence of the voyage to New Zealand. Having endured nauseating sickness, torrential storms, and numbing tedium, migrants sighted land with immense relief. As David McCullough wrote: ‘At 5 Oclock on the 18 came joyful cries of land Ho land and we saw first the Mountain and then the land came in sight. We were very glad [omitted: to] think we were at our journeys end’ (Cu 3). McCullough’s journey on the Andrew Reid in 1875 was a ‘very tedeous and long voyage of 123 days’, but this

60 A transcript of James Qualtrough’s diary is reproduced in Elizabeth A. Barlow, A quota of Qualtroughs: early settlers to New Zealand from the Isle of Man (Matamata, 1984), pp 31–40. 61 The death of the Boyers daughter was from enteric fever. 62 Their son was born on 29 April 1874. The funeral of a female migrant who died during the vessel’s approach to port provoked an outcry due ‘to the conduct of a drunken undertaker’. See Immigration officer’s report, IM 5/4/8 85, N.A.W. 63 James Belich, Making peoples: a history of the New Zealanders from Polynesian settlement to the end of the nineteenth century (Auckland, 1996), p. 287. 64 Immigration statement by the Minister of Immigration, A.J.H.R., 1875, D-8, p. 3. 65 See ibid., and extract from the report of the Registrar-General of England, A.J.H.R., 1872, D-no.1B, enclosure in no. 8, p. 7.

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did not compare with the ‘long & unpleasant voyage’ of six months endured by John and Alice Gilmore in 1876 (Cu 3; Ge 5). By the late nineteenth century the trip took approximately six weeks, but passengers still voiced complaints. Brigid Dawson, recollecting her 1924 voyage, grumbled, ‘No doubt its a long Journey six weeks and a day night and day and had nothing to do only sit about that left the time to seem longer’ (Da 1). Arrival, however, did not automatically entail the dispersal of passengers. The Bebington, for instance, was placed in quarantine at Motuihe Island just off the coast of Auckland. Commenting on the Island, Alice Gilmore observed, ‘There is a cook house & accomotion for imigrants & a brick house for fumatitation. The cloths all boxes & every thing else is put in there before leaving. It is like a grate in the bottom & underneath that is a great fire burning of Brimstone to cleare all disease as the think on our voyage’ (Ge 5). Similar procedures were also noted by James McIlrath following quarantine of the Donald McKay at Port Phillip in Australia due to an outbreak of smallpox: ‘The Boxes are all sent on shore. The ship is to be smoked, tared and painted’ (Il 3). Non-quarantine ships also experienced delays in disembarking. Bessie Macready, for instance, did not leave the ship until the following morning when I with my luggage was conveyed to the shore in a little steam boat. I found a Mr Robinson and his sister waiting for me. They conducted me to their mother, who is a great friend of aunts, and I waited there until I got a conveyance to take me to Governors Bay which is seven miles distant from Port. (Ma 1)

Generally, such postponement arose from official inquiry into passenger health and complaints and observations of the ship’s condition. Twentieth-century passengers also experienced delay at disembarkation. Philip Carroll told his wife, ‘We were held up for about an hour at Southampton by the Customs’ (Cl 5). William Cardwell was more fortunate in being able to meet his brother John before he disembarked from the 811-ton barque City of Tanjore at Lyttelton in 1881. As John wrote in his shipboard diary, he observed a steamer pulling up beside the ship, with his brother William among the passengers. John enthused, ‘I was so glad to see him I could have cried with joy but shame would not let me do so.’66 Some ships failed to reach their intended destination, mainly due to fire. Upon his arrival in Australia in March 1861, James McIlrath puzzled over the fate of another vessel: ‘The Dover Castle which sailed from London the day we sailed from Liverpool landed in Melbourne on the 5th. The seen a ship on fire off the Cape. The Queen of Commerce that sailed 10 days before us is not

66

An account of his voyage is in P.R.O.N.I., T/1698/4. 117

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here yet. It is believed she is burnt and not one life saved’ (Il 3). Fortunately, James’s fears were unfounded, for the Queen of Commerce arrived later that month. The loss of the Cospatrick thirteen years later, however, was a grim reminder to New Zealand-bound passengers of the potential for disaster at sea.67 As with the McIlraths, several nineteenth-century migrants made their way initially to Australia. Oliver McSparron, for instance, left Liverpool on 9 November 1859 on the White Star accompanied by 20-year-old William Little and 24-year-old Denis McCloskey.68 Following a seventy-day passage, the White Star arrived in Australia on 24 January 1860. Initially, Oliver made his way to his maternal uncle, William Oliver. Though most passengers disembarked with relief, Oliver McSparron told readers in County Londonderry, ‘I could live on sea during my life is not the dreadful place that I heard it was. I like it very well’ (Sp 1). Michael Dempsey was also seemingly happy with his lengthy voyage: ‘Well i must tell yous that i seene the most of the world buy the way i came out to Newzealand. I had 18 stops coming along and 5 days in melbourne’ (De 6). The accounts of voyages used in this chapter indicate that migrants were well informed before their emigration. Information about the ship’s history, vital supplies, and delays to the schedule for voyaging, were all discussed. Such knowledge, provided by previous migrants, ensured that intending migrants were fully prepared for the journey that lay before them. This collective involvement continued on board as they fulfilled their roles, such as mess duty. Discussion of provisions, restrictions, and accommodation also aided intending migrants. Fluctuating periods of entertainment and boredom, calm and storms, hot and cold climes, also permitted them to make careful preparations for their voyage. The proximity to a wide range of ethnic and religious groups did not necessarily dilute rigid opinions, though conflict is largely absent in letters. As indicated, reliance upon shipboard diaries rather than personal letters in investigations of the voyage is one explanation for this contrast. Possibly stresses and strains had evaporated from the memory of Irish correspondents before they wrote home, or maybe conflict, if it did exist, was considered less important than conveying other practical considerations about the voyage.

67

The Cospatrick sailed from London on 11 September 1874 bound for Auckland. It caught fire on 17 November. There were only three survivors. For official accounts see A.J.H.R., 1875, D-2, no. 101 and enclosures in 101. 68 Though Oliver’s letter only names his companions as William and Denis, William Little is mentioned in his letters from New Zealand. Denis ‘McCloskey’ appears the most likely of all passengers named Denis on the White Star given the prevalence of the McCluskey surname at Umrycam. Oliver is recorded as ‘Oliver Sparron’, aged 23. See index to inward passenger lists, British and foreign ports, Public Record Office Victoria, code B, fiche 172, page 011, online at www.cohsoft.com.au/cgi-bin/db/ship.pl. 118

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In many respects the voyage undertaken in the early twentieth century was strikingly different from nineteenth-century journeys. Ships were more luxurious, travel time had decreased, and passenger compartments were larger. Some continuity, however, remained, specifically complaints about heat in the tropics, boredom, and the availability, though not as widespread, of nominated and assisted schemes. As we have seen, the reactions engendered by the migrant experience had many manifestations, ranging from excitement to apprehension, intrigue to boredom. Such diverse responses are also evident in modern-day air travel with passengers alert to travel time, conditions, and a sense of danger associated with accidents. Differing reactions can also be found in migrants’ reactions to their new land. How did their impressions contrast with their recollections of life in Ireland and what comparisons are evident between Irish and colonial life as gleaned from the letters of home correspondents? We will now turn to these questions.

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4

‘How different it is from home’ Comparing Ireland and New Zealand Annie Dempsey, a migrant from Crecrin, County Carlow, arrived in New Zealand in approximately 1882 accompanied by her aunt, Ann O’Brien. The women initially settled with Ann O’Brien’s brothers at Greenhills, south of the Waihao River in Waimate, South Canterbury. Of the correspondence Annie sent to Ireland over the course of the next two decades ten letters are known to have survived. Her early letters, particularly, contain several striking contrasts between Ireland and New Zealand. Annie was initially struck with the colony’s climate, telling her younger sister Eliza, ‘there is great heat hear more so then the old country’ (De 1). In early January 1885 Annie expressed her amazement at the speedy passing of time: ‘Time Flys By So verry quick mutch quicker than in [?Crecrin]’ (De 4). Colonial buildings also attracted Annie’s interest. The houses, she happily revealed, ‘Are All Cottage Houses Almost Build of Wood and Beautifull Painted’ (De 3). The Waimate Catholic chapel, on the other hand, appeared similar and was, Annie contended, ‘mutch like the little Chaple in Killanure onely A greadl [great deal] larger’ (De 3). The only other explicit contrast to feature in Annie Dempsey’s letters was the timing of the seasons. Writing in September 1888, Annie described how ‘The Sheep are lambing hear just now and thee People are buisy sowen there oats and spring wheat so yous see how different it is from home’ (De 5). Annie Dempsey’s comparisons between New Zealand and Ireland raise several questions that are the focus of this chapter. What were the perceived similarities or differences between the two countries? Were these depictions negative or positive? How did representations of life in New Zealand and Ireland change over time? And how do the accounts compare with the images of origin and destination conveyed in Irish–Australian and Irish– American correspondence? According to Kerby Miller, Irish migrants in North America often expressed dissatisfaction upon finding that ‘urban-industrial America was startlingly different from rural Ireland’.1 But rather than attribute this maladjustment to conditions encountered in North America, Miller prioritised antecedent experience, that is the migrants’ previous lives in

1 Kerby A. Miller, Emigrants and exiles: Ireland and the Irish exodus to North America (New York, 1985), p. 516.

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Ireland. Conversely, Irish letter writers in Australia emphasised colonial coarseness, wealth, and diverse employment, but there was little evidence of grievance.2 These conflicting interpretations between the northern and southern hemispheres are not only apparent in studies of Irish migration that use personal letters, but also in the broader historiography of Irish settlement abroad. For instance, Malcolm Campbell has carefully considered these divergent patterns of Irish settlement in North America and Australia, concluding that, in contrast to studies in the United States, ‘Most recent scholarship on the Irish in Australia has emphasized the primacy of the specific conditions in the New World as a factor shaping Irish immigrant adjustment’.3 An investigation of Irish responses to New Zealand life, and the comparisons made by correspondents with life in Ireland, provides further support for studies citing the primary influence of the New World on Irish adjustment abroad. Irish correspondents in New Zealand, more so than their counterparts in Australia, responded in a largely positive manner to their new homeland. Yet it was not simply their favourable responses to life in New Zealand that assisted their successful settlement; their recollections and regular receipt of contemporary accounts of life in Ireland, which were frequently dissatisfying, further aided their settlement. Ireland, for letter writers communicating with family and friends in New Zealand, was rarely the ‘comfortable and largely secure environment’ depicted by their counterparts writing to Australia. 4 Rather, it was often described as turbulent and unruly, primarily due to the anxious reports of Ireland’s political climate. The antecedent experience of Irish migrant correspondents cannot therefore be dismissed as unimportant in influencing their reactions to new conditions overseas. But rather than hindering their accommodation, as Miller has claimed for the Irish in North America, this chapter argues that this antecedent experience actually aided the adjustment, and in conjunction with favourable colonial conditions, ensured that the Irish adapted relatively smoothly to New Zealand life. The socio-economic profile of these correspondents may also have contributed to their easy adjustment, at the same time explaining several contrasts discernible between the letters from IrishNew Zealand and those that emanated from Irish-America and, to a degree, Irish-Australia. With its nineteenth-century migrant stream drawn mainly from Connacht and the west, the United States for the most part received Catholics from an impoverished agricultural background. Australia attracted Irish migrants, also principally Catholic, from the north midlands and south-

2 David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995), pp 560, 608. 3 Malcolm Campbell, ‘The other immigrants: comparing the Irish in Australia and the United States’ in Journal of American Ethnic History, xiv (1995), p. 3. 4 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 560.

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west. New Zealand, meanwhile, received a strongly industrial north-eastern contingent, disproportionately Protestant, together with a large representation from Munster.5 Beyond addressing the variant explanations of Irish adjustment abroad, this chapter also contributes to an understanding of aspects of life in New Zealand and Ireland that have received scant attention. As several historians have stressed, we need to know more about so far ‘neglected’ aspects of social and cultural life in New Zealand such as leisure, clothing, housing, gardening, and the climate.6 The significance of comparative accounts of employment, farming, and crops is discussed in the following chapter. But this chapter also advances another argument: that letters were a crucial conduit of information facilitating an awareness of the New Zealand alternative for intending migrants. Though echoing propaganda campaigns, these letters constituted a more reliable and immediate source of information. Throughout the nineteenth century, a number of propaganda campaigns were designed and implemented to persuade intending migrants to consider settling in New Zealand. This publicity took many forms: public meetings, lecture tours, books, pamphlets, newspapers, published letters, paintings, exhibitions, agents, handbooks, and placards. According to James Belich, such propaganda attempted to downplay conflicts with Maori, denigrate other possible migrant destinations, and minimise the dangers of the voyage out. In contrast, the salubrious colonial climate and abundance of natural resources were emphasised.7 Intriguingly, the personal reports sent home by Irish migrants in New Zealand corroborated this propaganda campaign. The positive reinforcement of these images in personal letters is at variance with the reported Irish experience in Australia where frequently, as David Fitzpatrick has noted, ‘Emigrant letters provided a sobering and often chilling corrective to the effusive reports of Australian life circulated by shipping agents

5

For accounts of the socio-economic composition of the Irish migrant stream see the following by David Fitzpatrick: ‘Irish emigration in the later nineteenth century’ in Irish Historical Studies, xxii (1980–1), especially pp 129–34; Irish emigration, 1801–1921 (Dundalk, 1984), especially pp 11–13; ‘Emigration, 1871–1921’ in W. E. Vaughan (ed.), A new history of Ireland: Ireland under the union, II, 1871–1921 (Oxford, 1994), vi. 6 Jock Phillips, ‘Of verandahs and fish and chips and footie on Saturday afternoon: reflections on 100 years of New Zealand historiography’ in N.Z.J.H., xxiv (1990), p. 133; Erik Olssen, ‘Where to from here? reflections on the twentieth-century historiography of nineteenth-century New Zealand’ in N.Z.J.H., xxvi (1992), p. 68. 7 See James Belich, Making peoples: a history of the New Zealanders from Polynesian settlement to the end of the nineteenth century (Auckland, 1996), pp 280–6. Also see Miles Fairburn, The ideal society and its enemies: the foundations of modern New Zealand society, 1850–1900 (Auckland, 1989), for similar representations, and Paul Hudson, ‘English emigration to New Zealand, 1839–1850: information diffusion and marketing a new world’ in Economic History Review, liv (2001), pp 680–98. 122

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and colonial propagandists.’8 How can the difference be explained? It may be that some correspondents in Australia were attempting to discourage the migration of family and friends by stressing negative information about Australia. Supplying downbeat images gave letter writers an excuse not to provide financial assistance for their former associates wishing to make the journey. The obvious environmental differences between the two countries may also have played a part, as may the fact that Irish migration to New Zealand took place later in time. The latter factor may also have influenced contradictory responses between Irish settlers in the two destinations. In addition, disparity in a letter writer’s attitudes and personality may also account for some contrasts. Many migrant letter writers depicted aspects of colonial life in response to requests for information from correspondents in Ireland. Sometimes reports were sent to contradict or confirm rumours such as New Zealand being ‘a wicked place and little or no clergey’ (Cd 1). Such hearsay presumably prompted Elizabeth McCleland, after receiving reassurance of her daughter Ann’s safe arrival in Wellington in 1840, to urge Ann to ‘Rite as soon as son as posable and let us know all you can concerning that place if it be srubery or Mountain’ (Cd 2). An earlier letter had instructed Ann to ‘tell us some of the perticulars of the treatment of the Voyage & how you came on since what you ar doing & where you worship on Sunday. Also the customs and maners of the people the Climate produce trade laws & prospects of this new Coloney’ (Cd 1). Elizabeth McCleland’s request for information was deliberate, designed to evaluate the potential of the colony for the emigration of Ann’s siblings. Ann was consequently urged to ‘look & enquire minutely into the case both where you are and also other places that we may know how to act’ (Cd 1). Among other correspondents in Ireland seeking information about the colony was John Keane, who wrote from County Waterford to his sister in 1886 querying the suitability of New Zealand for his trade (Ke 2). John McIlrath in Killinchy, County Down, expressed anxiety about how his sons had settled (Il 4). In response to such queries, most letter writers portrayed New Zealand in favourable terms. Shortly after his arrival in 1861 James McIlrath declared approvingly, ‘New Zealand is as near Heaven as any Contry’ (Il 6). Fifteen years later his brother Hamilton echoed James’s sentiments: ‘New Zealand is a great place for trying to get more’ (Il 28). By 1886 Hamilton McIlrath happily concluded, ‘I dont think their is any better country than N. Zealand’ (Il 32). The McIlraths’ upbeat response to colonial conditions was attributable largely to their satisfying economic progress in Canterbury and upward

8 David Fitzpatrick, ‘“Over the foaming billows”: the organisation of Irish emigration to Australia’ in Eric Richards (ed.), Poor Australian immigrants in the nineteenth century: (Canberra, 1991), p. 139.

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social mobility. Other correspondents stressed their contentment with life in New Zealand in reaction to sustained pressure that they return to Ireland. Oliver McSparron, dismissing appeals that he return home, firmly told recipients in County Londonderry in 1868, ‘I am in a country that pleases me’ (Sp 3). David McCullough, meanwhile, sought to reassure his parents after his arrival at Dunedin in 1876: ‘I like this country its customs and its people’ (Cu 4). Irish women shared these positive male reactions to New Zealand. Margaret Kilpatrick’s first impressions of New Zealand society echoed those of David McCullough as she told Armagh readers from Auckland in 1862, the year of her arrival, that she liked the country (Ki 1). Also residing in Auckland was Agnes Lambert. Though she confessed to having had ‘many ups and downs’, Agnes reassured her Antrim-based sister in 1877 that the country was good (La 1). These bright reports continued into the twentieth century, with Catherine Sullivan claiming, with some qualification, from Manawatu in 1905, ‘this is a good country for working men’ (Su 1). Not all responses of Irish correspondents in New Zealand were positive. Adverse reactions were influenced by particular conditions encountered by individuals. Communicating with his family in County Antrim during a particularly bad period of recession in the 1880s, David Bell claimed from Duntroon, Otago, ‘taking everything in particular the country is very dull’. He further stated bitterly, ‘people at home may eat less mutton and pies, and earn less wages than the do here but if the only thought it they have a lot more comfort than is to be found in this country unless you have plenty of money’ (Be 1). Even more damning, David alleged, ‘It is not what it is represented to the people at home’ (Be 1). David Bell’s opinion may have been an indictment of comments made by his brothers who had migrated to the colony before him. Or it may suggest the wider circulation of exaggerated official accounts about New Zealand in Ireland. Twentieth-century migrants also experienced disappointment. Philip Carroll commented in 1925 on migrants who had ‘been only twelve months in New Zealand and are returning home disgusted with the country’ (Cl 3). Detractors of colonial society received scathing criticism from some correspondents. Alice Gilmore reported astutely from Auckland in 1876, shortly after her arrival, ‘As concerns the country I can say very little as yet but it is here as it is every where. Some has a good word & some a bad one but I remark that those that has a bad has many weak points in them selfeve’ (Ge 5). This emphasis on character also preoccupied James McIlrath, who referred dismissively to ‘a young man of the name of Frew. He told me that he was going Home by the same ship. Poor fellow he will know much about the contry I should think’. Frew returned to Ireland and supplied a disparaging commentary of New Zealand. This appalled James McIlrath: ‘Let Mr Frew say what he may. There is worse places than New Zealand but it wants both willing heart and hands of which I rather doubt he had. But scant allowance faint Heart never win’ (Il 10, 13). 124

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Dissenting voices were therefore rare, and detractors of New Zealand received swift condemnation. The predominant generalised image of New Zealand among Irish correspondents was favourable. Conversely, generalised impressions of Ireland portrayed the country as volatile. Such images occasionally appeared in the letters of migrants who relayed information usually derived from new arrivals or current accounts from home in the form of letters and newspapers. Comments by some Ulster Protestants highlighted their concern with events in Ireland and the precarious position of Protestants there. Responding to recent reports in the early 1860s James McIlrath predicted gloomily, ‘I suppose Ireland will soon be abandoned altogether. I Hear it is a disturbed state up the contry’ (Il 6). A decade later, after Fenian activities had begun to subside, he wished ‘to hear Ireland being a little more quiet as I Fancy it is a dangerous place betimes’ (Il 17). In 1904 Alexander McKelvey, writing from Auckland, also believed that ‘Ireland will be a good place to live away from’ (Ky 1). His comments stemmed from the activities of the Catholic Association. Most migrant correspondents received contemporary reports of Ireland from their associates at home. Again, such accounts, composed at unstable times, were focused primarily on Ireland’s political volatility. From County Louth in 1867 and 1868 Fr Richard Flanagan, and his nephew Richard, referred despondently to Ireland as ‘a wilderness’ and an ‘unfortunate country’ (Fl 1, 3). Such grim assessments reflected their disapproval of intensified Fenian activity. Two decades later two Protestant correspondents offered their opinions. In 1880 George Reid observed from Armagh that ‘Landlords Agents and Bailfiss [Bailiffs] are getting very bad care in the South and West of Ireland’ (Ki 9). This comment, made during the height of the ‘Land War’ of 1879–82, refers to the intimidating tactics pursued by the Irish National Land League against landlords in an effort to obtain security of tenure. Poor farming conditions rather than political agitation prompted William Gilmer’s moans from Monaghan in 1886 that ‘Ireland is a very miserable place’ (Gr 2). Whereas Gilmer’s gripe reflected his own disappointment with local farming conditions at Mullaghanee, Reid’s remark reveals an astute awareness of conditions in Ireland beyond his place of residence in Armagh. Generalisations about Ireland’s political state became more widespread in the twentieth century. Retired constabulary officer Robert Hughes, for instance, supplied several interesting comments throughout the 1920s. In March 1924: ‘This country is far from settled yet’ and ‘This Country is greatly gone to the bad’; April 1924: ‘this Country is not settled yet no nor I believe never will’; July 1924: ‘don’t think for a moment that old Ireland is finally settled yet’; February 1927: ‘the Country is not in a happy mood’ (Hu 2, 3, 5, 10). That same decade returned migrant Philip Carroll referred to Ireland as a ‘distressful country’ (Cl 21). Such verdicts, composed after the official end of the Irish civil war, reveal that the repercussions of the conflict were still strongly felt among the country’s population, an aspect discussed in more detail in Chapter 8. Comparisons with accounts of Ireland for this period in the most 125

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extensive modern editions of Irish–Australian correspondence is difficult, since Fitzpatrick’s edition ends at 1906, while O’Farrell focused on letters sent from Australia, rather than Ireland.9 The only other broad generalisation about their country offered by correspondents in Ireland related to the weather. As with accounts of Ireland’s social and political status, such reports were overwhelmingly negative. In 1927 Robert Hughes told his son of a terrible storm that ‘swept over all this country’ as well as ‘flue is raging in this Country’ (Hu 10). Kate Keane expressed her dismay from London that there had been ‘No rain for months & worse in Ireland’ while in 1925 Philip Carroll juxtaposed this arid image with the more usual observation that ‘The climate of Ireland generally is damp’ (Ke 11; Cl 17). By contrast with Irish–Australian correspondence in which ‘Generalisations about home conditions were seldom ventured by correspondents in Ireland’,10 letter writers communicating from Ireland to New Zealand were more likely to offer sweeping commentaries but these were primarily negative. This is partly explained by the more voluminous content about politics and the climate in letters from Ireland to New Zealand, whereas the economy prompted generalisations from Ireland to Australia. Economic factors were also the primary topic of general comment from New Zealand to Ireland. The overwhelmingly positive general image conveyed about New Zealand, combined with despairing generalisations about Irish life, must have favourably influenced Irish letter writers’ adjustment to New Zealand. Such positive accounts also attracted the interest of intending migrants. Generalised accounts about both countries, however, were largely a reflection of particular conditions prevailing in specific localities. What explicit comments then did correspondents make about the districts in which they resided? And did these mirror their generalised verdicts? In 1863, two years after settling at Springfield in Canterbury, James McIlrath mused wistfully, ‘I should like a visit from you all some Evening to have a walk by the lake side and then still farther on to the sea beach and hear the roar and see the waves of the South pacivic [Pacific] Ocean’ (Il 7). In evoking this image James may have been calling to mind similar strolls along the pebbled Killinchy shore in County Down. It is unlikely that Bessie Macready was struck by similarities between her idyllic surroundings at Governors Bay and the industrial character of Belfast, when in 1878 she admiringly observed, ‘beds of magnificent flowers roses fuchsias geraniums &c with the sea a little beyond and mountains rising up on either side. The prospect is beautiful’ (Ma 1). Gordon McClure had also lived near Belfast,

9 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation. Patrick O’Farrell, Letters from Irish Australia, 1825–1929 (Kensington, N.S.W., 1984). 10 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 536.

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and he too was struck by his stunning pastoral colonial surroundings. In animated fashion, he wrote from picturesque Ryal Bush, Southland, in the 1860s explaining: ‘I can hardly describe this country to you but it is beautifully wooded with streams of large rivers running in all directions, snowy mountains in the distance with small ranges close at hand, plenty of Parrotts, pigeons & ducks of the most beautiful colours. Wild pigs abound close at hand’ (Ce 4). Some Irish correspondents in New Zealand were less than impressed with their surroundings. Writing to his American-born niece in 1899, some forty years after his arrival in New Zealand, County Cork native John O’Regan assessed the rivers to be ‘deep and rapid, one particularly like the Colorada. It never gives up the dead. The absence of forests gives a dreary aspect to the whole scenery – if scenery you may call it’. Despite this disappointing feature, O’Regan displayed more enthusiasm for the country’s birdlife. He marvelled at small birds which he claimed were the tamest in the world, some of them will pick a crumb of bread off your hand. There is a ground Parrot that cannot fly, some what large with beautiful green plumage dotted with white marks. There is a bird called ‘Saddleback’ about the size of your American Jay – dark in colour not a coal black but a cross the back a facsimile of a saddle in the purest golden colour hence ‘Saddleback’. They look handsome. (Rn 1)

By drawing upon his personal knowledge of the United States, John O’Regan conveyed an accessible account of his New Zealand surroundings. Other impressions had no comparison, including the ‘bird of monstrous size called Moa that was not to be found anywhere else in the world’. He told his niece about his discovery of ‘several detached bones’ and his view of ‘a complete skeleton in a Museum some years ago’. The folklore surrounding the moa also intrigued him: The natives have a tradition that the moa used to eat the young Maori’s (pro Mowry) and this tradition seems to be correct and again that they burnt all the timber to drive the Moa back. It is true that now, the greatest quantity of bones is to be found near Rivers. One head found some years ago measured length 3 feet, width between the eyes 77 in and the socket of the eye 3 in diameter. This will give you an idea of what the bird was in life. (Rn 1)

Letter writers occasionally gained a sneak preview of New Zealand’s sea and wild life prior to settlement. During his quarantine in 1876 on Motuihe Island near Auckland, for instance, John Gilmore noticed, ‘The Island abounded Rabbits pigs & game also plenty of oysters there to all ends’ (Ge 6). Such vivid impressions, facilitated by the close proximity of correspondents to their natural surroundings, reinforced the widespread image of New Zealand 127

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as a land of natural abundance.11 Irish letter writers in Australia, on the other hand, tended to ignore their natural surroundings, leaving newspapers or guidebooks to provide ‘picturesque description’.12 Possibly correspondents in New Zealand were responding to more sustained requests for information about their surroundings than letter writers in Australia. Most accounts so far discussed stress the differences between Ireland and New Zealand. Explicit similarities between the home and colonial environments only rarely struck some settlers. John Gilmore, for example, noticed the resemblance of Tauranga to Ballyhalbert on the Ards Peninsula. Tauranga, he reported, ‘is a small village of about 1000 Inhabitants and is situated on a [word illegible] of an eminence above the sea. The principal street is along the shore as B. halbert [Ballyhalbert] – which is called the strand’ (Ge 6). Distinct differences between the two countries clearly provoked more widespread comment than perceived similarities. It was this reported diversity that captured the imagination of intending migrants. By contrast with the fascinating reports of New Zealand’s natural environment contained in migrant letters, most correspondents in Ireland rarely provided commentary about their physical surroundings, presumably because migrants were already well acquainted with the scene at home. Philip Carroll did, however, tell his Irish-descended, New Zealand-born wife of his sightseeing ‘along by the Banks of the Shannon and the scenery is something splendid’ (Cl 9). When such descriptions of the Irish countryside did enter the correspondence, it was often due to technological transformations taking place in Ireland. Such accounts ensured that recipients did not lapse into a static vision of Ireland. As a recent arrival to Canterbury in 1866 informed James McIlrath, ‘Ireland is still Ireland the only change being the Railway’ (Il 10).13 More substantial developments were evident during the following century, with Robert Hughes admitting from Sligo in 1923, ‘I don’t know your Tramcars or Ferry boats but we have they two systems in some parts of Ireland. Id know the Tram system in Dublin, Belfast & D[e]rry. The Ferry System is not so numerous. There is one at Achill S[o]und in Mayo’ (Hu 1). Irish correspondents in New Zealand also discussed such advances. In 1905, forty-three years after her arrival, Margaret Kilpatrick described Auckland as a ‘lovely city with its electric trams, & its hot springs & its lovely scenery & mount Eden, which is close to me 500 feet above the sea. A lovely view from the top’ (Ki 14). The occupational pursuits of some letter writers, however, sheltered them from developments. David McCullough, who mined along the West Coast, told his parents in 1899, ‘We went into the Mackley country prospecting. . . . There is neither roads nor horse tracks there’ (Cu 6).

11

See Fairburn, The ideal society, for similar ‘insider’ accounts. Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 587. 13 Prior to 1866 there were 1,909 miles of railway network. Only 461 miles were added from 1866 to 1880. 12

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By contrast with McCullough’s surroundings on the West Coast, the Canterbury district where the McIlrath brothers resided underwent rapid development. When James McIlrath first settled in the Southbridge district in the early 1860s he remarked in awe, ‘There is not a House in view but one solitary Shepherds Hut and that is on the other side of the river.’ By the next decade he noted with pleasure, ‘the Railway is formed now right up to Southbridge and the Talegraph is finished’ (Il 6, 21). James McIlrath’s brother Hamilton also contemplated the changes taking place in his vicinity. In 1878, sixteen years after his arrival in New Zealand and ten years after settling at Kowhai Pass in Canterbury, Hamilton McIlrath reminisced with some amazement, ‘When I settled here first it was as much as I could see a house in any direction but now every inch of goverment land is bought up and the railroad runing past and coal mines and batterys within about a mile of us’ (Il 28). It was a depiction Hamilton reiterated four years later: ‘This part of the country where I live is very much changed since i came to it. On an avarege you would not have met with a house within every four miles but now every inch of land is taken up fenced and build upon’ (Il 30). This geographical expansion was in response to a continued influx of settlers populating Canterbury throughout the later nineteenth century. Such growth delighted James McIlrath, who confessed in 1873, ‘I feel a certin amount of pride to watch the progress of this once waste spot’ (Il 18). James also outlined developments at Southbridge town where, apart from a blacksmith, there was A carpenters shop, a Bakery, a saddler shop, a shoemakers Three large stores and a fourth in course of erection, one Hotel, one Boarding House, Milliners shop, besides a Nursery, and coaching establishment, and a large Town Hall for public Meetings and amusements. There is a Ball there this Night and I suppose by this time 10 oclock they are Heel and Toeing pretty freely. (Il 18)

From Southland the previous decade, Gordon McClure commented on ‘a small dance here the other night the opening of the newspaper office, so we are not so bad after all’ (Ce 4). The development and expansion of New Zealand towns was accompanied by diversifying leisure pursuits with the simple pleasures of reading, music, and conversing soon eclipsed by more organised activities including the cinema and tourist excursions. These latter developments in the twentieth century reflected increased leisure hours. In nineteenth-century New Zealand, however, Miles Fairburn has argued that there was ‘little leisure’.14 Recent investigations, such as Caroline Daley’s exploration of the gendered recreational pursuits of residents in the Hawke’s Bay town of Taradale in the late

14

Fairburn, The ideal society, p. 192. 129

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nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, suggest otherwise. 15 Letters to Ireland from New Zealand also illuminate a diverse range of recreational activities. Music appeared most prominently in the correspondence of Ulster Protestants. Hamilton McIlrath guessed in 1886 that his brother’s children in Ireland ‘must have got their musical talent from their mother for I dont think either of us could ever sing any’ (Il 32). Margaret Kilpatrick, meanwhile, claimed proudly in the early twentieth century that her ‘children were musical & their company was sought after, by every body’ as ‘Willie tought & led a choir of 300 voices before he left here. Mary sings & plays on the organ, so does Robert’ (Ki 13). One further piece of evidence of musical prowess among Ulster Protestants in New Zealand appears in the obituary of Hugh Rea who left Down for Otago in 1874. According to the Otago Witness in 1916, ‘Hughie Ray . . . a resident of many years standing . . . was a very clever exponent of the violin and mouth organ, and spent much of his time in company with these cherished instruments.’16 The Farrell sequence of letters exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland during the early twentieth century contains the only evidence of musical pursuits among Irish Catholics at home and abroad. In 1921 Paddy Farrell instructed his wife, ‘Don’t forget to bring the violin with you when you come’ (Fa 11). Cork migrant John O’Regan commented on dancing in the colony, but the ethnic origin of his subjects is unrecorded: ‘Like the American girls also they have bad teeth and show age under 30 years, are fond of pleasure and hop Sally dancing’ (Rn 1). Correspondents in Ireland also emphasised dancing. Acquaintances of Matt Farrell’s in 1914 ‘dance as much as ever’, while Maggie Moran around that same year recalled many dances (Fa 5). As with music, reading was also more likely to be discussed by Irish Protestant men. John Armstrong, more than any other migrant, bemoaned the fact that his leisure hours were limited, a situation attributable to the rigours of colonial settlement: ‘My time for reading & study of any kind is rather limited. A settlers life is not favorable for the pursuit of knowledge. I often regret that I did not give my mind a little more up to it when it was unoccupied with other matters’ (Ar 1). Changes in technology, meanwhile, allowed James McIlrath to admit to ‘Reading in Bed with Lamp Light’ (Il 34). Among the texts consulted or sought by Irish correspondents in New Zealand 15

Caroline Daley, Girls and women, men and boys: gender in Taradale, 1886–1930 (Auckland, 1999). Also see Katherine Raine, ‘Domesticating the land: colonial women’s gardening’ in Bronwyn Dalley and Bronwyn Labrum (eds), Fragments: New Zealand social and cultural history (Auckland, 2000), pp 76–96; Scott A. G. M. Crawford, ‘“One’s nerves and courage are in very different order out in New Zealand”: recreational and sporting opportunities for women in a remote colonial setting’ in J. A. Mangan and Roberta J. Park (eds), From ‘fair sex’ to feminism: sport and the socialization of women in the industrial and postindustrial eras (London, 1987), pp 161–81. 16 Otago Witness, 19 July 1916, p. 27. 130

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were the Freeman’s Journal, Unitarian texts, and a range of newspapers including the Southern Cross, New Zealand Herald, Lyttelton Times, Canterbury Times, and the Press.17 Irish newspapers included the daily Irish Times, and the Connaughtman. Robert Hughes was also particularly partial to the ‘Beautiful reading in War Cry’s’ and his ‘Daily “Text Book” Bible’ (Hu 1). A more popular activity energetically pursued by Irish letter writers, both Catholics and Protestants, male and female, was conversation. This informal pastime appears prominently in the correspondence, due to letter writers’ preoccupation with notifying recipients of their ongoing contact with associates at home and abroad. Migrant letter writers were particularly eager to reassure their family and friends in Ireland that migration had not severed their connexions. Goldminer David McCullough revealed that he and an acquaintance from home often met to converse, while fellow Down migrant James McIlrath divulged that he and his fellow Irish companions in Canterbury ‘can enjoy a good chat and the Discource is generally about scenes at Home’ (Cu 5; Il 6). Annie Dempsey, meanwhile, wrote from Waimate in 1883 that ‘I often Speake oer the Past Days to my cusion miss oBrien And She laugh Hartly At me’ (De 4). In Armagh, ‘sober conversation’ dominated the discourse of George Reid’s associates (Ki 8). The most extensive references to talking, however, appear in Philip Carroll’s letters from Tipperary in 1925. Philip made many allusions to ‘a few chats’, ‘chatting’, ‘Koreros’,18 and a ‘chat in the evening’ (Cl 8, 11, 12). Following one particularly long conversational session, Philip admitted, ‘I had to go to bed to rest my weary throat’ (Cl 12). Attempts to surpass the storytelling abilities of companions appear in Robert Hughes’s assessment from Sligo that ‘all would sit around the big Kitchen fire & each one besting the other in good yarns’ (Hu 7). The aim was not just to tell a good story, but also to tell the best one. Competition between Robert Hughes and his companions also took place in Sligo’s rivers and forests where ‘fish & fowl’ were the prey (Hu 7). Such activities were sometimes futile and Robert Hughes readily confessed after one unproductive session, ‘I have been most unsuccessful in fishing up to this but many a one I left with a sore jaw’ (Hu 5). Aware of his preoccupation with fishing and shooting pursuits, Robert Hughes admitted, ‘Sport first and work after has been my lot’ (Hu 7). Nineteenth-century correspondents in Ireland, on the other hand, never discussed sporting activities in their letters to New Zealand. Their counterparts in New Zealand just as rarely mentioned sporting pursuits, though two Protestant men discussed shooting activities.

17 Works of fiction were never mentioned in Irish–New Zealand letters, though see Dulcie N. Gillespie-Needham, ‘The colonial and his books: a study of reading in nineteenthcentury New Zealand’, Ph.D. thesis, Victoria University Wellington, 1971, for a summary of the poetry and prose read by colonials in New Zealand. 18 ‘Korero’ means talk or discuss in the Maori language.

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From Southland in the mid-1860s Gordon McClure indicated, ‘Sporting is not much gone after except for the Pot’ (Ce 4), a comment that suggests a colonial influence. A decade later John Gilmore drew attention to the colony’s abundant wildlife: ‘There is plenty of game here to shoot. The licence is only £2’ (Ge 7). Gordon McClure and John Gilmore were also the only two correspondents to discuss their horse riding, their conflicting comments exposing the contrasting reasons for their use of horses. Once again, the influence of the colonial environment is evident. Gordon McClure, in the mid-1860s, informed those at home that ‘horseback is the only mode of conveyance at all easy when you think we have no roads & several rivers to cross’ (Ce 4). John Gilmore, on the other hand, associated horses with leisure: ‘As for myself it is not uncommon for me and some others to have 20 miles of a ride after dinner of Sunday’ (Ge 7). Both correspondents obviously had the means to buy and care for a horse. Two other colonial-based correspondents discussed horse-racing events in New Zealand. In 1866 James McIlrath attended the inaugural horseracing event at Leeston in Canterbury (Il 10). From South Canterbury in 1883, meanwhile, Annie Dempsey reported, ‘I have no verry Strang news to tell yous onely we were to the Sports And races. The were First clas And we Had Good Sport there’ (De 4). Irish-based correspondents were less inclined to discuss horses, despite the popularity of horse-racing in the country. The only reference appeared in Robert Hughes’s announcement from Sligo in 1924 that ‘We had a Horse Race here on St Patricks day – great sport & good racing’ (Hu 3). The feast day of Ireland’s patron saint was also widely celebrated in New Zealand.19 Nevertheless, Annie Dempsey was the only colonial correspondent to refer to community events taking place on 17 March. Her comment in 1903 reflects religious differences in commemoration of the day in comparison with that written by Protestant Robert Hughes. Rather than sport and racing, she emphasised the endeavour to raise proceeds for the local convent school: We had A great day here on St Patricks day. We also had a grand concert in aid of the Convent School. To fo [two of] my Children tuck pat [took part] in it. You would laugh if you seen Francis Dressed in white on the Stage acten. People come from all partes at night to Attend it. It was a grand Sight we Sough [saw]. (De 10)

19

For accounts of the day in Auckland in the later nineteenth century see Margaret King, ‘St Patrick’s day in Auckland, 1868–1899’, M.A. Research Essay, University of Auckland, 1994. The day became a public holiday in 1870. For an overview of the origins and development of St Patrick’s Day celebrations in Ireland, Britain, Canada, the United States, and Australia see Michael Cronin and Daryl Adair, The wearing of the green: a history of St. Patrick’s day (London and New York, 2002). 132

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Apart from concerts, picnics and cruises were also undertaken to commemorate St Patrick’s Day. Competitive events such as boat and horse races, and games of cricket also took place.20 Other competitions, often organised in aid of local facilities, drew participation from Irish migrants. According to Annie Dempsey’s friend in 1885: My Dear Mrs Dempsey I tell you of Annie Gold watch there was art younion drawn in aid of the catherlick chool of the wai mattie [Waimate]. The prises was few but verry good. There was picture oil painting of the Cross of Jesus of our Lord for the married winner prize. There was a [?hack] 4 years old for anney one man that gave a pound a Silver watch for anny man that gave 10 shillings. There was too prises for the single ladies a gold wach and gold cross so Annie got the wath. It is a splended leaver wath. It is worth a good deal of monnie so she is a right swell now the have all come home. (De 4)

Many leisure activities in nineteenth-century New Zealand were centred on tourism, with the growing popularity of tours throughout this period reflected in 1901 with the creation of the New Zealand Department of Tourism. The twentieth century also witnessed the inclusion of these excursions in the letters of Irish migrants in New Zealand. Rotorua, a district with ‘geysers, hot pools, boiling mud holes, & steaming mountains’ (Ky 3), was visited by both Alexander McKelvey and Thomas Hughes in the early twentieth century. James McIlrath’s wife made a trip to the ‘Museum, Domain and gardens’ at Christchurch, while Hamilton McIlrath mentioned an exhibition in that city in 1906, ‘the largest ever held in any of the colonies’ (Il 33, 37). Many of these excursions were facilitated by improved transportation. As recent arrival Brigid Dawson reported in 1924, Wanganui is a place of pleasure in the Summer as hu[n]dreds come here to spend the Summer months others come just for the Sunday evenings. Ladies go riding horses along the Beach. The Trams come to the very edge of it. Motor cars are lined up in dozens. Then there is an hotell where the can have refreshments others has a pic-nic along the Beach. I know it will be beautiful here in the summer time. (Da 1)

Tourism also appeared more frequently in letters sent from Ireland during the twentieth century. During his return to Ireland in 1925, Philip Carroll recounted several excursions he undertook as a tourist. He was offered the use of motor cars and a pony and trap, took a trip down the Shannon on a motor boat, and attended the Nenagh Show (Cl 5, 6, 8, 11, 18). He refused to attend a wedding or dance as ‘you have no business attending those affairs unless you can put away your share of the good things going’ (Cl 13). The following

20

See ibid., especially Chapter 3, for accounts of these activities. 133

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year, booming tourism in Sligo provoked Robert Hughes’s reflection, ‘The Country is Crowded with tourists & no doubt there is great sightseeing here with fashionable motors &c passing to & fro from early morning to night’ (Hu 9). His daughter’s pursuit of entertainment, on the other hand, revolved around the cinema (Hu 4). As with New Zealand, this growth in tourism in Ireland was facilitated by improved roads and better transportation. Tourism also held the promise of attracting wealth to certain districts, creating or enhancing local facilities, and supplying employment opportunities. The significance of the reports of tourism in letters from Ireland during this period also gave relief to recipients in New Zealand worried about the ramifications of conflict in Ireland. Gardening also appeared more frequently in the letters exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand in the twentieth century. Some settlers, such as Patrick Quinn, harvested their own products: ‘I have Caddags [cabbages] and Pumpkings and Potatoes growing in the Garden’ (Qu 3). For other migrants, gardening might be a hazardous pursuit. Margaret Kilpatrick, for example, explained how she ‘broke my arm when digging in the garden & fell against the fense’ (Ki 13). In 1914, meanwhile, Jennie McIlrath revealed that her father Hamilton ‘keeps a lovely flower garden, in fact it is the best for miles around. It is a mass of bloom at present.’ Two weeks after Hamilton McIlrath’s death in 1916 daughter Emily reflected, ‘He always kept a beautiful garden and everyone said it was the best for miles around. A few days before he died I had him out in the garden, and he was showing me where to plant bulbs.’21 Tipperary migrant Paddy Farrell informed his absent wife, ‘Your sweet peas are simply exquisite how just a mass of bloom that beggars description. I was asked for a bunch to put in the [word illegible] Flower Show together with some cabbages & parsnips’ (Fa 11). These twentieth-century accounts from New Zealand, written primarily by Irish men, stand in stark contrast with a summary of colonial gardening that sees the activity as the primary domain of women.22 These accounts contrast too with the meagre reports of nineteenth-century leisure, apart from ‘meetings and palaver’, contained in Irish–Australian correspondence.23 Letters sent from Australia, however, are less representative of the range and vibrancy of leisure activities available in Australia,24 than Irish–New Zealand letters which reflect diverse aspects of leisure in New Zealand.

21

Jennie McIlrath (Canterbury) to her cousin Sarah McIlrath (Down), 1 March 1914; Emily McIlrath (Canterbury) to her uncle (Down), 12 August 1915. 22 For women’s gardening in New Zealand see Raine, ‘Domesticating the land’, pp 76–96. 23 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, pp 601, 551. 24 See Richard Waterhouse, Private pleasures, public leisure: a history of Australian popular culture since 1788 (Melbourne, 1995). 134

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Reports from Ireland also illuminate the popularity of gardening. In the nineteenth century, however, accounts of gardening were confined to Ulster Protestant women. In 1864 a correspondent in Armagh reported on Margaret Kilpatrick’s mother, appreciatively observing that ‘Not even her flowers are forgotten’ (Ki 4). The same acquaintance sought from Margaret ‘a few flower seeds. They would be appreciated in Bal[l]eer’ (Ki 4). As with other leisure pursuits, however, most reports about gardening in Ireland were confined to the twentieth century, and the participants were men. During his visit to Tipperary, Philip Carroll hoped to return to Auckland to find his garden ‘in full bloom with vegetables and flowers’ (Cl 9). In Ireland he spent time ‘strolling around the fields and garden’ (Cl 13). Robert Hughes in Sligo emerges as the most enthusiastic gardener. As he boasted to his son Thomas, ‘I have a most beautiful garden [word illegible] of flowers & all kinds of vegetables & Potatoes. There is a nice frontage to the house neatly kept & all flowers’ (Hu 4). In a later letter, Robert pronounced proudly, ‘My garden is a picture to look at. It is one blaze of Roses Oranges Lillies & thousands of other varieties’ (Hu 11). Irishmen’s interest in their flower as well as vegetable gardens reveals that there was little gender division in this area of leisure.25 Irish male letter writers likewise displayed immense interest in their domestic surroundings, a sphere that has also been considered a woman’s domain. Besides supplying extensive descriptions of his blooming garden, in 1924 Robert Hughes also wrote a detailed account of his new house: After searching the whole country by Easkey Dromore-West &c and fail[e]d in securing a place suitable or otherwise I suceeded in getting this house & garden from John Devaney. You know the house. It is on the Dromore West Road just opposite the house I left. It is a large two storied house altogether too large for our family. There is a large kitchen Parlour Hall and large room off the Kitchen also three beautiful rooms overhead also good outhouse for Fowl &c. The g[a]rden is fair size with flower Plot in front and three large trees. I have it all planted with Potatoes & different variaties of vegetables. I am under very heavy rent over three times what I paid for our last nice place. (Hu 3)

Despite allegedly excessive tenancy costs, Robert claimed, ‘Your mother & I would feel it a big strange in a mean house & low people around us’ (Hu 5). The high rental rate of his property at Dromore West inevitably had some reward: ‘We have a house & accom[m]odation fit for any man so we can entertain properly’ (Hu 4). Likewise, Sarah Reid stated from Armagh in 1916, ‘I have the house nicely rennovated and have got a back door a nice stone in the kitchen and it very nicely furnished. It is a good home and very

25

It has been claimed that in Britain women looked after flowers and herbs while men tended vegetables and fruit. In New Zealand, however, women cared for all four. See Raine, ‘Domesticating the land’, p. 80. 135

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comfortable. That is the reason I do not like to leave it. I wish you could come to see me. I would make you welcome’ (Ki 15). Nine years later Philip Carroll reported on the purchase of a house by his cousin for ‘£700 cash and is going to spend a couple of hundred in furnishing it’ (Cl 24). These largely positive descriptions of the domestic environment in Ireland, confined to the twentieth century, explain the focus on the scale and expense of housing whereas letters from Ireland to Australia, emanating primarily from the nineteenth century, stressed neatness and simplicity.26 They also reinforced for recipients in New Zealand the growing prosperity enjoyed by some individuals in Ireland. Correspondents in New Zealand rarely displayed interest in Irish housing standards. Those who did express curiosity did so after a lengthy period of absence. In 1905, more than thirty years after his departure from County Down, Hugh Rea wrote from Clinton, Otago, seeking information about contemporary conditions in Ireland: ‘When you write you might mention what rent is charged for the laboureres cottage in Ireland and Haw much land is in with the cottage and what wages is paid in Ireland’ (Re 1). His brother’s response is unrecorded. Several migrant letter writers, however, commented extensively on accommodation in New Zealand, their reports spanning both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Many begrudged the high costs of housing. In 1863 James O’Neill compared his earlier Limerick lodging with his Auckland accommodation, complaining that, ‘House rent is awful dear. If the place in Brunswick St was here they would be at least £4.000, a year got out of it’ (Ne 1). During that same decade in Auckland, Margaret Kilpatrick informed her brother that she paid just over 5 shillings a week for lodgings ‘in town to he got a cottage fited for me’ (Ki 1). In later years, Margaret and her husband David lived ‘rent free’ in their son’s ‘comfortable house’ (Ki 13). When David McCullough first arrived in Dunedin from Moneyreagh in 1875 he reassured his parents, ‘I am at present boarding in a priprate house and feel very comfortable for which I pay 18/ per week’ (Cu 4). From Governors Bay in Canterbury five years later, Bessie Macready complained, ‘house rent very dear. A small 4 roomed domicile will be 10/- or 12/- per week’ (Ma 2). In 1921 Catholic accountant Philip Carroll likewise resented the cost and scarcity of housing, this time in Auckland. Moaning to his cousin in 1921, Philip compared the shortage of quality accommodation with the paucity of good police in Ireland: ‘Houses to rent are as scarce here as honest peelers are in Ireland, with the result that people looking for somewhere to eat and sleep have to take whatever is offering.’ But after taking several temporary lodgings, Philip was able to report to his cousin, We have now a furnished house of four rooms and a kitchen for which we are paying 30/- per week. The rent appears high but when you consider we were paying

26

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 544. 136

COMPARING IRELAND AND NEW ZEALAND

25/- per week for one furnished room and use of conveniences it is reasonable enough. (Cl 1)

A few years later Brigid Dawson was also paying 25 shillings a week for her house in Wanganui. Like Philip Carroll, Brigid was happy enough. As she explained to her sister, ‘you would think this dear and I thought it dear but is a very poor house you would get in the Town of Wanganui for £2 a week’ (Da 1). That same year, 1924, Robert Hughes in Sligo commiserated with the outgoings associated with his son’s Auckland house, but added, ‘you have something for your money there’ (Hu 5). By focusing on the cost of housing and emphasising their ability to afford it, migrant correspondents were implicitly reflecting their progress. The construction of houses likewise conveyed the improvements and advancement made by correspondents. Canterbury farmer James McIlrath, for instance, informed his family in 1863 that he was ‘getting a House up and Fencing off a Garden getting in some potatoes peas parsnips and so’ while six years later he erected a new house at a cost of £100 (Il 7, 15). Andrew and John Gilmore also built a house at Tauranga. As their sister Alice revealed, ‘accomatiom is not easy got where they are, of a quaility’ (Ge 5). John Gilmore later informed his parents that ‘Andy has a good house here & the ground that it sits on for 21 years at very little rent. He has built the house at his own expense that is about 270 pounds’ (Ge 7). The following century Alexander McKelvey told his parents that a local builder was constructing his house (Ky 1). Constructing houses was not confined to the colony, for Catherine Colgan in Antrim revealed that newly-wed relations ‘have built a beautiful new house’ (Co 3). Apart from the cost and construction of houses, correspondents also reflected on the contents of colonial housing. Such depictions further reinforce the prosperity and progress letter writers were making in New Zealand. In 1881 Bessie Macready described the cutlery contained in a Christchurch villa: ‘We have silver teaspoons silver plated table and des[s]ert spoons & forks & other silver pieces in use every day and a better set for state occasions’ (Ma 3). A later recollection by a contemporary gives us a detailed insight into Bessie’s home at Governors Bay:27 Her home was a very neat cottage with an equally neat garden. Her parlour was typical of the time. It had a Brussels carpet and a suite of mahogany furniture covered with a shiny black material with white antimacassars done in crochet and a round mahogany table with a cover on which lay the family Bible and an album. There was rosewood chiffonier with a glass dome covering some treasures. The

27

C. E. Burrell, ‘Governors Bay has a romantic history’, Auckland Weekly News, undated. Typed extract in the possession of Allison Hussey of Governors Bay and kindly brought to my attention by Lyn Wright. 137

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mantelpiece had a velvet drape with embroidered flowers and a pair of lustres, ornaments, in pairs and vases of dried grass and everlasting daisies. The photographs were in plush frames. A small ‘register’ grate and brass fire irons with a footstool nearby complemented the room. Pictures were always in pairs and at the window were snowy curtains of Nottingham lace. In the bedrooms were handmade patchwork quilts finished in feather stitching, with dimity frills round the bed.

Medical doctor Alexander McKelvey likewise discussed the contents of his house in Auckland in 1913: ‘I did not have to furnish the house, all the furniture is provided by the Board. The only things one has to buy are pictures & things of that sort. Even cutlery & bed clothes & table linen are provided’ (Ky 3). Brigid Dawson was similarly overjoyed with the furnishings in her Wanganui house: ‘it was furnished with more than ever we will want and everything in it even to the very scrubbing Board and polishing Brushes Knives forks spoons Teapot everything that would be wanted in a house for 25s a week’ (Da 1). Apart from the furnishings, Brigid Dawson was particularly impressed with the cleanliness of colonial houses: ‘You would never have to wash the chairs or Tables in a lifetime and the Floors are all polished and carpets’ (Da 1). Despite these illuminating references to housing costs, construction, and furnishings, only a couple of migrants described the exterior of their colonial accommodation. From Southland in 1865 James McClure proudly informed his sisters in Belfast, Our house is comfortable & is the best in the neighborhood. It is in [erased: the] a cottage in the old English style, 3 Gables thus [drawing of house] an Oriel window in one end & front Gable, verandah &c. I shall send you a scetch next time. Large parlor, dining room, & best bed roon. Hall on ground floor & 2 bed rooms in attics. Kitchen is behind, Casements to open 7 feet by 3 feet. Comfortably furnished. (Ce 4)

The houses in Waimate, South Canterbury, in 1884 ‘Are All Cottage Houses Almost Build of Wood And Beautifull Painted’ (De 3). Indeed, wooden colonial houses rather than those of stone or brick were seen as the biggest contrast between housing in the Old and New Worlds.28 The predominance of wooden buildings in New Zealand, however, made them susceptible to fire. In the early morning of Monday 5 April 1880, Andrew Gilmore’s house burned down and he escaped through a window.29 As he gloomily discovered, ‘The Effects of the Fire in Replacing the things I Lost I am Beginning to feel now’ (Ge 11). His dismay would have been particularly 28

Ian Lochhead, ‘At home with the past: the Gothic revival house in New Zealand’ in Barbara Brookes (ed.), At home in New Zealand: houses, history, people (Wellington, 2000), p. 10. 29 I am grateful to Jasmine Rogers for this information. 138

COMPARING IRELAND AND NEW ZEALAND

poignant in relation to the loss of items brought over from the Old World. Deliberate rather than accidental fires aroused the curiosity of Christchurch accountant William Cardwell. He observed wryly in 1879, There is a great many failures here and any amount of fire’s nearly one every week and sometimes two, so that the Insurance offices are getting in pretty hot just now. There scarcely happens a fire when the house or store is not insured which seems very strange. I suppose houses that are not insured will not burn? (Ca 1)

Twenty years earlier John Armstrong also reported on a fire that burned a house rented by the Provincial Government in New Plymouth.30 Again, the house was ‘insured so that the loss is not as heavy as it might have been’. According to John, the fire resulted when ‘one of the ladies left a candle burning in a house to which parties from the country were in the habit of repairing to dress & undress’ (Ar 1). Participation in public events, such as the ball in New Plymouth, required stylish clothing. The female penchant for such attire prompted Andrew Gilmore’s complaint in 1881 that females ‘are very Hard to keep in Colonial stile & Fashion’, while that same year from Christchurch dressmaker Bessie Macready noted that clothing was expensive (Ge 11; Ma 2). Wellington hotelkeeper Samuel Gilmer was likewise suitably unimpressed with his cousin whom he considered ‘far extravagant as regarding her clothing’ (Gr 1). In 1899 John O’Regan wrote: ‘People here dress very well – particularly the young girls, who always sport Pompadour colours an rakish “Muslin whiskers”!!!’ (Rn 1). Gumdigging bachelor Patrick Quinn was the only male correspondent to refer to his clothing: ‘I am mending and Wasshing my cloth[e]s’ (Qu 1). Brigid Dawson, on the other hand, explicitly contrasted colonial and Irish clothing: ‘the clothes are never dirty for washing like at home . . . . No scrubbing whatever for they are not dirty but I give mine a wee touch’ (Da 1). As with housing, reports of clothing from Irish writers in New Zealand tended to focus on economics rather than robustness.31 Though these accounts document the advances being made by Irish letter writers in New Zealand, they also display gender differences. Correspondents in Ireland also provided only brief comments about clothing and accessories. One revealing comment, however, highlights the importance of clothing for employment opportunities. From Waterford in 1886, Kate Keane bitterly told her sister, ‘I havent as much clothes as would 30 Eight years later the Daily Southern Cross noted that the town’s houses ‘are all of wood, of a very primitive style of architecture, with zinc chimneys; they are unpainted, more than half untenanted, and going rapidly to decay’. Daily Southern Cross, 23 January 1867, cited in R. P. Hargreaves, ‘The golden age: New Zealand about 1867’ in New Zealand Geographer, xvi (1960), p. 22. 31 In Irish–Australian letters most references to clothing emphasised robust equipment. See Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 582.

139

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bring me to mass for I couldnt get them & I am asking you to send me something to clothe me as I would go to a situation if I had any clothes to bring me there’ (Ke 1). The most extensive discussion of clothing in Ireland, however, appears in the letters of Philip Carroll in 1925. Desirous of purchasing Irish clothing, he requested details from his wife of sizes for ‘shoes, silk stockings (and whether you prefer shoes to lace or button) corsets (excuse me) for yourself and shoes and socks for kiddies’ (Cl 10). Philip also requested his wife’s size in gloves and asked, ‘What is your bust & waist for blouses?’ (Cl 10). Intriguingly, migrant correspondents made no mention of the lighter clothing worn in New Zealand. Instead, Philip Carroll happily approved of his wife’s purchase of a dress for she was ‘due a heavy frock’ (Cl 20). Robert Hughes, on the other hand, commented wryly from Sligo on the influence of the climate on clothing: ‘The Summer is more like winter here’ and that ‘One part of the day you could go in your shirt another time you could do with your overcoat and a blanket’ (Hu 1, 11). As with many correspondents in Ireland, Robert Hughes exhibited a particular preoccupation with the climate. Throughout 1924 his letters contained a range of despairing descriptions. Mid April: ‘We had a really dry spell of weather up to a few days ago when it has turned bitterly cold, Thunder Hail Rain & now heavy snow so the farming business is all up for the present’; mid June: ‘The weather has been very wet for along spell now which leaves us backward in all our pursuits of labour’; early November: ‘winter is fairly in on us bitterly cold high hurrican[e] winds & I may say a continual downpour of rain’ (Hu 3, 4, 7). The most graphic account appeared in February 1927 when Robert informed his son: We had an awful storm about a week ago. It swept over all this country. It came from the S. W. It raged for a full day carried away houses, sheds, hay & corn stocks uprooted trees causing terible destruction, loss of life and hundreds injured. Our house got a bad tearing, hundereds of slates carried away walls around the garden leveled to the ground; vegetables &c blown clean away. (Hu 10)

The following year, Robert observed ‘Miles of Country under water and Cattle & lives lost’ (Hu 12). Nineteenth-century letters from Ireland likewise depicted the volatility of the country’s climate. The showers and hailstorms that battered the Limerick landscape in the mid 1860s provoked William Lysaght to rue, ‘It is a bad time for fishing as the weather is terrible’ (Ly 1). At the end of the century a ‘very stormy winter’ impeded farming on the Colgan farm at Tonduff in Antrim: ‘We have got no ploughing done yet. We have some frost now’ (Co 5). Even when the weather was favourable, it could impact negatively as revealed by Elizabeth Walker in Armagh: ‘We have not had so hot a summer for the last six years, and I regret to say that owing to the great drouth the oats have [word illegible] though not eight inches high. Indeed I see some not 4.’ She observed, 140

COMPARING IRELAND AND NEW ZEALAND

more positively, however, that ‘The flax is beautiful, also the potatoes, and the best hay safe’ (Ki 4). For farming correspondents in both countries, and in both centuries, the weather was of particular importance for their crops. Most accounts emphasised the drawbacks wrought by rain. Edmund Lysaght complained from Limerick in 1872, ‘This was a wet and a bad year here. It is continually raining. We have no potatoes and other crops were equally bad’ (Ly 7). By the end of the nineteenth century, a despondent Catherine Colgan reported from Antrim that ‘the potatoes & turnips are a poor crops owning to much rain’ (Co 3). In the early twentieth century Mary Ann Gilpin wrote from Armagh, ‘It was very hard to get work done on the farm this last 2 seasons for no one ever remembers so much rain. The low lands was near constant in water & it was by carrying potatoes out of the wet ground John got hurt’ (Gn 5). The importance of fine weather in harvesting crops was stressed in 1926 by Robert Hughes who indicated from Sligo, ‘We have had a very good dry summer & harvest with good crops of all Kinds’ (Hu 9). The climate could also aid or destroy crops in New Zealand, as James McIlrath revealed from Canterbury: ‘We are now in the middle of Harvest and a very unfavourable one so far. We had a very wet backward Spring and dry Summer and in the beginning of last week when the grain was about ripe we got three days rain’ (Il 35). At another time, John Armstrong noted cheerfully, ‘The weather is however seasonable & it does a farmer good to see how the grass and wheat shoot up’ (Ar 1). Other effects of New Zealand’s climate could be portrayed negatively. Bessie Macready noted in 1881 that ‘our summers are very long and sometimes very dry then the grass is scarce’ (Ma 2). More than a quarter of a century later Hamilton McIlrath revealed: ‘We have had the hotest and dryest spring and summer here that I ever remember. Grass clean burnt off not a green blade to be seen’ (Il 38). The absence of green fields was possibly the most telling example that both these Canterbury-based commentators could provide home readers to convey the fine, dry climate of the region. Yet their references to the tepid warmth of the colony was a far cry from the reports of their counterparts across the Tasman Sea who complained about Australia’s oppressive heat.32 Other drawbacks existed besides the heat. When a flood swept through Rangiora in 1868, Hamilton McIlrath reflected solemnly on the destruction: ‘Pigs and fowls nearly all drowned and worse than all any amount of houses washed down and several lives lost’. Hamilton also depicted the havoc caused by earthquakes and fierce winds (Il 14). His brother James complained about the effect of the climate on crops: ‘on Saturday and Sunday we got a Howling Nor-Wester a regular Hurricane. The are the ruin of this otherwise fine

32

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 587. 141

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Climate. The Burn up the grass so that if a lighted match was thrown down the whole district would be on Fire’ (Il 35). Subjected to a range of weather patterns, James and Hamilton McIlrath provided several comparisons between the colonial and Irish climates. In the early 1860s James noted, ‘There was double the frost in one Night ever I seen at Home’ while his brother Hamilton confessed, We Like this place very much only we have had A very severe winter. It was every bit as cold as home. The snow does not Lie as Long but we have far more rain. The sun rises in the east and goes Left about insted of right as at home which I thought rather curious at first. (Il 6, 5)

Hamilton also observed that ‘we have far more hevy hot winds here than you have got at home and this harvest has been rather more than usual stormy’ (Il 20). In 1891 Canterbury’s arid aspect stimulated James to remark, ‘We have had one of the Driest summers here this one that I remember’ (Il 33). Comparisons were also made with the weather patterns of previous years. As James O’Neill noted from Auckland in 1863, ‘The weather here is not so hot as it was this time last year. It was very blust[e]ry and wet since begining of Augst last with a few days excepted and them are pretty hot now’ (Ne 1). The climate’s most positive influence was stressed in connexion with accounts of health and wellbeing. Bessie Macready certainly celebrated the climate’s favourable contribution to her health: ‘We have here nine months of splendid summer weather most of it a great deal warmer than the warmest summer day you experience at home & I believe my health has been greatly benefitted by the change’ (Ma 3). In Otago, David McCullough’s acquaintance Alex Young ‘says he never was in better health or more contented in his life’ (Cu 4). Goldminer Michael Flanagan, on the other hand, wearily bemoaned the ‘dreary monotony of a life in this climate’, but confessed that his brother Patrick was ‘one of the very few upon whom the climate or the hardships to be endured in this vagabond life seems to have no ef[f]ect’ (Fl 2). William Quinn ‘had to lave australia as it was too hot for my Leg. The Doctors said I had better go to a colder country’ (Qu 2). And from Tipperary, John Strong urged his cousin, Daniel, to meet a neighbour travelling to New Zealand for health reasons (St 6). Elizabeth Walker also indicated that her son’s departure from Armagh was due to ‘bad health’ but his destination was Australia (Ki 4). Diverse weather conditions throughout New Zealand meant that some migrants relocated within the colony to improve their wellbeing. Agnes Lambert moved a short distance from the centre of Auckland ‘to the north shore acrose the water. My helth is a little better since I went’ (La 4). William Quinn ‘had som[e] land in Taranaki but I sold it as the place was too cold for me’ (Qu 2). He moved north to Auckland’s warmer climes. Despite emphasis on the health benefits of the colony’s climate, some migrants returned home for the same reason. For instance, in 1886 William 142

COMPARING IRELAND AND NEW ZEALAND

Gilmer’s brother wrote to him in Monaghan from Wellington suggesting, ‘Would you not have been better here only for your health’ (Gr 1). William himself confessed wearily, ‘If I had only middling health I wd not stop long in Ireland’ (Gr 2). And in 1925, Philip Carroll, suffering from Bright’s disease, returned to Tipperary. He informed his wife, ‘I am improving every day but when a damp muggy day comes it seems to get into the marrow of my bones and make me wish I were somewhere up the Waitakere Ranges inhaling the Ozone. The climate of Ireland generally is damp but Ballycahill atmosphere is miles ahead of Nenagh’ (Cl 17). When a spell of fine weather enveloped the country, Philip eagerly declared, ‘It is Irelands first spell of fine weather for 15 months so you can understand everybody is happy’ (Cl 9). Despite some favourable accounts of Irish weather, writers in Ireland were less likely to praise the Irish climate than did their compatriots writing to Australia, who provided ‘astonishingly positive’ portrayals of the Irish weather.33 Instead, the Irish climate as described in Irish–New Zealand letters was unpredictable, with many correspondents depicting its erratic and tempestuous nature. This focus on the climate among letter writers in Ireland is not surprising, given the influence of the weather on crops and wellbeing. Migrant correspondents were likewise concerned with the colonial climate, but their accounts primarily stressed warmth, dryness, and stability. Unlike Australia, where the weather was ‘construed as a menace to good health, and therefore a deterrent to migration’, and North America, where ‘post-Famine emigrants’ avowed antipathy to the North American climate symbolized the profound sense of discontinuity felt by many displaced peasants’, 34 New Zealand was acclaimed for a climate deemed beneficial to the wellbeing of most migrants. Depictions of the climate in Irish–New Zealand correspondence, as with accounts of the natural environment, leisure, housing, and clothing, played a significant role in furthering Irish migration to New Zealand. Such portrayals, being primarily positive, provided intending migrants with a favourable impression and awareness of the New Zealand alternative. They were also more immediate and reliable. The importance of such features in facilitating migrant settlement and adjustment cannot be overestimated. Irish correspondents of whom we have knowledge made a relatively easy transition to life in New Zealand, aided by their general contentment with features of their new homeland. In this sense their interaction with the new land rather than their antecedent experiences shaped their positive adjustment. Their counterparts in North America, on the other hand, responded in a negative fashion to their surroundings, hindering settlement there. While it does appear that Irish migrants settled more easily into New Zealand, we should remain

33 34

Ibid., p. 546. Ibid., p. 588; Miller, Emigrants and exiles, p. 516. 143

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alert to silences in the historical record. Did Irish migrants who had difficulty settling not write to their family and friends? Or did they perhaps venture elsewhere or return home? Whatever the answer, there seems little doubt that Irish letter writers in New Zealand were also aided in their adjustment to New Zealand life by their memories of Ireland and awareness of contemporary Irish conditions relayed by friends and family at home. That many of these recollections and current reports were negative can only have further facilitated their adjustment. In this way, the antecedent experience of Irish migrants, which visualised Ireland in a more negative light than New Zealand, helped rather than hindered their adjustment abroad. Apart from the differences discerned by Irish letter writers in New Zealand with accounts of Ireland, contrasts are also apparent with accounts of Irish settlement in Australia. Generalisations were more prolific in Irish–New Zealand correspondence and many features of life in both New Zealand and Ireland were discussed in economic terms. The following chapter further develops this economic aspect by focusing on the topics of employment and costs.

144

5

‘No rough work here like at home’ Work in New Zealand and Ireland In 1860 James and Hamilton McIlrath of Balloo, County Down, migrated to Melbourne and, after a brief stint on the goldfields there, voyaged on to New Zealand. Initially the brothers gravitated to the southern goldfields, before trying their hand at other trades. Hamilton McIlrath told readers at home in County Down that while his brother James found employment on a station, fellow migrant William James Alexander ‘has got nothing to do for his £70 per anum but milk the cows and drink the milk. I am with A whole sale wine and spirit merchant. I drive out grog and beer and sometimes I plough. I like my work first rate’ (II 5). From the beginning, however, despite their contentment with colonial work, the brothers contemplated buying land to farm. As James informed home readers, ‘We can Buy good land for 2£ an acre free forever flat and clear and we can let it on a purchesing clause’ (Il 6). The idea of land at this price would have been particularly striking to Irish readers who were usually tenants with high rents and no security of tenure. As subsequent letters reveal, after a period accumulating some savings the McIlrath brothers indeed purchased land and set about developing their holding. Not surprisingly, initial reports focused on the novelty of encountering unfamiliar conditions and learning new skills: ‘You people at home would think it strange to begin on land where there was not a fence whatever nor one sod turned since it was land and this is land of the richest quality’ (Il 7). Traditional skills were either adapted or abandoned in the new environment, while novel techniques were frequently adopted. As Hamilton McIlrath explained in detail in 1874, ‘we do not go to the trouble of draining and manuring just ploughs and harrows and rolls and leaves it there untill fit for cuting. No weeding [erased: of] or thistle pulling here. Thrashes the grain in the paddocks and burns the straw. Makes no manure except what the horses makes. In the winter never houses cattle’ (Il 20). Equally, in describing what colonial farming did not involve, Hamilton McIlrath was implicitly comparing farming practices in New Zealand and Ireland, contrasts that would have attracted the curiosity of Irish readers. Apart from these practical comparisons of husbandry, James and Hamilton McIlrath also documented for their distant readers the prices that crops and stock fetched, even if the level of returns depended on a range of circumstances. In 1874 Hamilton lamented dejectedly, ‘If we got the same prices for our grain and stock here as you [get] at Home we could live like [the] sons 145

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

of an irish King’ (Il 20). Hamilton’s remark alludes to rising prices in Ireland for agricultural and animal products, which reached a peak around 1876.1 Later in that decade Irish farmers experienced a reversal of fortune as agricultural depression set in. These brief extracts from the McIlrath series, incorporating thirty-eight letters, reveal that almost invariably migrant correspondents continued to place their impressions of the colony in a comparative context, drawing freely and naturally upon their recollections of Irish life. In turn, they received letters from Ireland, which kept them aware of developments at home. As the previous chapter underlined, such comparisons largely favoured depictions of New Zealand. Can the same be said for interpretations of employment, farming, and prices in New Zealand? In exploring employment matters in New Zealand and Ireland this chapter aims to illuminate the diverse nature of work opportunities in Ireland and New Zealand. New Zealand, in much of the country’s nineteenth-century propaganda, was portrayed as a ‘labourer’s paradise’.2 Unable to obtain employment at home, large numbers of migrants from Britain and Ireland, along with smaller groups from North America, France, Germany, Scandinavia, and China sought work there. Primarily the sons and daughters of farmers, the considerable number of Irish men and women migrating found ready employment as labourers and servants. They could also be found in other walks of life including the legal, medical, and ecclesiastical professions. As one commentator remarked in 1885, ‘It is indeed a fact that many Irishmen hold prominent positions in this colony, but few of these are Catholics.’3 In differentiating between Protestants and Catholics among the Irish in New Zealand, this comment is particularly incisive. The presence in central and provincial government of Irish Protestants such as Joseph Dargaville, James Edward Fitzgerald, and William Travers, among others, reinforces this point.4 Yet the comment also marginalises those Irish Catholics who had obtained prominence in the colony, including Patrick Dignan, Hugh Coolahan, John Patrick Fitzgerald, and Edward Mahoney.5

1

Between 1851 and 1876 the following increases were made: wheat rose 20 per cent; barley 43 per cent, beef and butter 87 per cent; cattle 143 per cent. Cited in K. Theodore Hoppen, Ireland since 1800: conflict and conformity (Harlow, 1999; 1st ed., 1989), p. 93. 2 See Miles Fairburn, The ideal society and its enemies: the foundations of modern New Zealand society, 1850–1900 (Auckland, 1989). 3 New Zealand Freeman’s Journal, 7 August 1885, p. 11. 4 See Alasdair Galbraith, ‘The invisible Irish? Re-discovering the Irish protestant tradition in colonial New Zealand’ in Lyndon Fraser (ed.), A distant shore: Irish migration and New Zealand settlement (Dunedin, 2000), pp 36–54. 5 For an account of prosperous Irish Catholics in early Auckland see Gabrielle A. Fortune, ‘Hugh Coolahan and the prosperous Irish: Auckland, 1840–1870’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1997. 146

WORK IN NEW ZEALAND AND IRELAND

Attempts to identify and quantify the involvement of Irish natives in various occupations in New Zealand are hampered by census records, which do not link employment pursuits with ethnic origin. Other investigations, however, help illuminate the situation. Examining the occupational profile of assisted single Irish men who travelled to New Zealand during 1876, Donald Akenson identifies that most were farm servants or agricultural labourers. That same year, most single Irish women were returned as servants.6 As Akenson is careful to stress, however, these occupations reflect Old World rather than New World occupations. Indeed, the agricultural depression suffered in Ireland during the late 1870s prompted many of its inhabitants to seek security abroad and played a part in shaping the Irish occupational profile in New Zealand. An insight into the occupational profile of Irish migrants once they had settled in New Zealand is provided by birth, death, and marriage records, combined with street directories and probate files. Lyndon Fraser has used these sources to examine the occupational mobility of Irish men, Catholic and Protestant, in Christchurch between 1878 and 1888. He argues that they made ‘steady progress’ and that agriculture and contracting were the most common ways of achieving social and economic gains.7 We may question, however, whether a ten-year period is an adequate time-frame within which to measure social mobility. By contrast, Irish women’s activities in Christchurch remain clouded. There remains much to do in quantifying the trades occupied by Irish migrants in New Zealand. Meantime, what do private letters and biographical sources tell us about the ways Irish correspondents responded to their working environment in New Zealand and Ireland? Do they echo the positive accounts in the published letters analysed in Rollo Arnold’s study of assisted English rural immigrants in the 1870s?8 Or do they provide an alternative portrait? Women’s work in New Zealand has frequently been overlooked in accounts of employment, though recent research is counteracting this neglect.9 Domestic service provided the major means of employment for women in New Zealand, and Irish women were heavily represented. Most of the letters mentioning Irish migrant women’s involvement in this form of service, however, emanated from Irish men. In 1875 Canterbury farmer James McIlrath sought a female worker from Killinchy, County Down, willing to work on his farm. In an attempt to lure a 6

Donald Harman Akenson, Half the world from home: perspectives on the Irish in New Zealand, 1860–1950 (Wellington, 1990), tables 14 and 15, pp 50–1. 7 Lyndon Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead: Irish Catholic immigrants in nineteenth-century Christchurch (Auckland, 1997), pp 140, 126. 8 Rollo Arnold, The farthest promised land: English villagers, New Zealand immigrants of the 1870s (Wellington, 1981). 9 See especially Caroline Daley, Girls and women, men and boys: gender in Taradale, 1886–1930 (Auckland, 1999). 147

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potential migrant, James promised good wages and lighter work than that undertaken in Ireland (Il 24). Maggie Auld took up James’s offer. Six years later Andrew Gilmore emphasised the opportunities for female employment in an effort to lure brother Robert and his large family of daughters to Tauranga: ‘There is no out door work for Girls about Here. Girls from 10 year to 17 Gits from 4s to 10s per week & found at House work’ (Ge 11).10 Despite this emphasis, Andrew’s information was insufficiently tantalising to lure Robert and his family to New Zealand. Samuel Gilmer, meanwhile, divulged to his brother the work activities of their cousin Abigail whom Samuel had employed. Writing from his Wellington hotel in 1886, Samuel complained bitterly, I put her in the laundry. Of course I seen at once it was no good that her intention was to do as little as possible . . . . Well I kept her for twelve months and paid her regular every month but no thanks nor no improvement in the girl only dying with laziness. (Gr 1)

Samuel did not divulge Abigail’s rate of pay, but she was possibly receiving 12 shillings per week as a live-in laundress.11 The letters of Irish women, by contrast, illuminate other areas of employment, especially shopkeeping, hotelkeeping, and farming. We have already seen that Agnes Lambert left Ireland for personal reasons. Family history testimony indicates that once in New Zealand Agnes accepted a position as governess in a Catholic family in Auckland, and upon the wife’s death married widower Michael Lambert. Initially, Agnes could rely on Michael’s earnings as a carrier to support the family. But after his death, 35-year-old Agnes Lambert was compelled, as a widow with four children under 14 years of age, to apply to the Auckland Hospital and Charitable Aid Board due to ‘want of employment’.12 Confronted with financial instability, Agnes actively sought aid and in 1888 the Catholic charitable organisation, St Vincent de Paul Society, heard that she ‘required assistance towards paying her rent . . . and also some assistance towards starting a shop’.13 Seemingly, her request was answered but she struggled to maintain herself and her family. By 1890 Agnes declared despairingly from Auckland, ‘Bisonus is very Bad and I have lost a Deal of noney’ (La 4).

10

A similar rate operated just over a decade later. General house servants with board received between 5 and 10 shillings per week in the Auckland province. See The New Zealand official handbook 1892 (Wellington, 1892), p. 163. 11 This was the rate for laundresses in Wellington in 1892. See ibid. 12 Auckland Hospital and Charitable Aid Board, A493/65, p. 241, in N.A.A. 13 Minutes of St Vincent de Paul Society, cited in S. C. MacPherson, ‘“A ready made nucleus of degradation and disorder”? A religious and social history of the Catholic Church and community in Auckland, 1870–1910’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1987, p. 27. 148

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Shopkeeping was also pursued by another Belfast native, Bessie Macready.14 She reported taking ‘the entire charge of a shop in Lyttelton’ but claimed sombrely, ‘many a weary time I spent there, business dull, long hours, and innumerable little trials’ (Ma 3). It is therefore not surprising that when the opportunity arose she accepted a position taking charge of a villa in Christchurch while the owner, Thomas Mollett,15 took a trip to England. Bessie took delight in cataloguing the household’s silver service and claimed proudly, ‘I occupy the best rooms just as a member of the family’ (Ma 3). She furthermore confided, ‘I have got a nice girl for a servant and am attended to like a lady’ (Ma 3). Bessie probably only remained a year at the Mollett residence, for by 1885 she was teaching at Governors Bay school, following in the tradition of her maternal aunt and her father.16 After ending at the school in 1889 she was regularly returned in the electoral rolls and street directories as Bessie Macready, dressmaker, Governors Bay.17 Bessie’s unusual career path presumably reflects not only her own background and interests, but also the influence of family and acquaintances in shaping her occupational pursuits. A somewhat steadier career was undertaken by Ellen Piezzi. Following her husband’s death Ellen took over the running of their West Coast hotel, telling her husband’s brother in the 1880s, I am dooing prity fare traid at present. I got 10 borders and good many coming in and out but if cores it take along time to peell up the things is so derr and every move is money. I am dooing as Well as any one les and if the betie but I got to ceep 2 girls one to cook and one to other work foitin beds. (Pi 7)

Ellen later ran several hotels in Wellington with her second husband, Irishman Denis Maher. Other Irish women in New Zealand found themselves assisting on farms. In 1849, the Nelson Census reported that a Mrs ‘Dwire’ was a tenant in an earth dwelling with a thatch roof inhabited by six males and two females. Her nine and a half cleared and cultivated acres held five acres of wheat, two acres

14 For a comparative account of Irish women’s involvement in shopkeeping in Australia, see the Wyly profile in Chapter 3 of David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995). 15 A return of the freeholders of New Zealand, October 1882 records Mollett as freeholder of land in Christchurch worth £11,500. 16 Bessie Macready taught at Governors Bay School between 1885 and 1889, while her aunt Sarah McMain taught from 1879 to 1882. See Governors Bay school centenary, 1868–1968. I am grateful to Lyn Wright for bringing this booklet to my attention. 17 See Jane Malthus, ‘Dressmakers in nineteenth-century New Zealand’ in Barbara Brookes, Charlotte Macdonald, and Margaret Tennant (eds), Women in history (Wellington, 1992), ii, pp 76–97. Bessie Macready probably earned within the region of 3 shillings per day, the going rate for dressmakers in Canterbury. See The New Zealand official handbook 1892 (Wellington, 1892), p. 164.

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of potatoes, and two and a half acres of barley. Her livestock, meanwhile, consisted of 21 cattle, 13 goats, and 9 pigs.18 Other widows reflected on their farming activities. From South Canterbury in 1903 Annie Dempsey reported, ‘I have three cows. I do all my work myself’ (De 11). County Limerick widow Catherine Sullivan also depicted the involvement in farming undertaken by herself and her daughters. In 1905 she wrote from Manawatu that she was ‘only milking four cows. . . . Nellie milks 83 cows besides all the dry cattle. . . . Bridge milks 35 cows. Her husband has about 800 acres of land in use’ (Su 1). Most of these accounts of female employment in the colony were written by widows, and were attempts to reassure home readers that they were coping in trying circumstances. But unlike Irish men, Irish women were less likely to comment on working conditions and wages available in New Zealand. Irish men’s focus on these issues, however, was designed not only to attract female labour to the colony, but also to reassure home readers that they were caring for their Irish female associates. Although few Irish women correspondents documented their work in the colony, many discussed accounts of their husband’s labour, as we will shortly see. Meantime, what do the letters reveal about employment choices for women in Ireland? The most illuminating references to women’s employment in Ireland appear in the letters Margaret Kilpatrick received from her family and friends in Armagh. Several accounts document the contribution of Irish women’s work to the household. An animated Sophy Lang reassured Margaret Kilpatrick that Margaret’s sister-in-law Sarah Reid ‘has an agreeable manner and a first rate house-keeper. She is very industrious and attends to her man and her domestic affairs properly’ (Ki 7). Several years later, the widowed Sarah Reid told Margaret, ‘I do a little farming but does not labour much so that I have a very nice time’ (Ki 15). Her comment suggests that other Irish women toiled hard in their farming pursuits. In the following decade, writing from Sligo, Mary Jane Hughes remained busy by ‘exterminating the weeds from the Flowers’ and caring for a ‘mumerable family of fowls’, while the ageing Catherine Colgan wrote reassuringly from Antrim that ‘I am able to do the work of the house as yet’ (Hu 1; Co 8). Only one correspondent in Ireland discussed the occupation of a female relative in domestic service, the major area of employment for Irish women in the nineteenth century.19 Writing from County Kerry about her brother Maurice in 1893, Mary Shanahan informed her niece that daughter Debbie ‘is housekeeping for him now as he is a Bachelor still’ (Sh 1). A range of occupations was also pursued by women in Ireland beyond the confines of the house. In 1893 Catherine Colgan told her daughter Rose Gamble that ‘Mary is in a shirt factory learning to sew’, while Agnes Lambert’s sister Isabella worked in a Belfast mill (Co 1; La 2). As with letters from New Zealand, some insight into women’s work in Ireland was provided by male

18 19

Nelson Census for 1849, SSD 3/2, mic. Z689Z, p. 75, in N.A.W. In 1881 48 per cent of employed women were domestic servants. 150

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correspondents. In 1880 Joseph Reid notified his sister Margaret Kilpatrick that an acquaintance’s ‘former Master raised £20 and sent hir to Dublen to learn the midwifery business. She is now coming at it. Hir head sentre is Belfast’ (Ki 9). Another acquaintance of Joseph’s ‘is Mistress in the Balleer school. She is wroth £40 per annum’ (Ki 9). Possessing such attributes, though, did not automatically guarantee a situation. William Gilmer’s wife, a qualified teacher, was unable to obtain a position, allegedly because ‘There is no female teacher wanted at Mullaghanee school or she would get it’ (Gr 2). Combined with bleak farming conditions in Monaghan, a gloomy William Gilmer admitted in 1886 that if his wife could obtain a teaching position abroad they would leave the country. By 1916 teaching appointments for Irish women were improving, and Margaret Kilpatrick learned that her brother Thomas Reid’s daughter ‘teaches Art in several of the schools in Armagh and has a lot of pupils as well’ (Ki 15). She appears to have fulfilled Margaret’s earlier wish, ‘I hope she gets to the top in her profession’ (Ki 14). Also in 1916 Maggie Moran told May Sullivan from Tipperary, ‘I am still teaching in English. I have an easy time but of course the Pay is very small’ (Fa 6). Other work pursued included storekeeping and nursing. Margaret Kilpatrick learned that Sarah Reid’s daughter ‘is in business in Armagh in a Book Shop’ (Ki 15). Philip Carroll’s cousin Tess advised him in 1920 that she was ‘taking on the nursing business . . . and like it very well’. Nevertheless, Philip commiserated that her ‘hours are very long and I am sure the half day per week is thoroughly appreciated’ (Cl 1). Philip’s sister Nance was also a nurse. Other acquaintances had elected to enter convents, were nurses, or were ‘working in Munition Factories in England’ (Fa 6, 5). The letters reveal that in both Ireland and New Zealand Irish women frequently pursued work in housekeeping, shopkeeping, and farming. Teaching, however, appeared more regularly in letters sent from Ireland, though we know at least one Irish female migrant letter writer spent a period teaching. Such occupational pursuits imply a socio-economic profile ranging from lower middle class to middle class. As we have seen, these accounts of female employment fluctuated according to time, place, and conditions. How did the situation compare for their male counterparts? Unlike female labour, male employment patterns featured prominently in the correspondence. Several Irish male migrants in New Zealand pursued a variety of occupations throughout their lifetime. As we saw, James and Hamilton McIlrath sought their fortune on the goldfields, becoming a station manager and merchant respectively, and eventually purchased land to farm. What comparisons can be made between male employment in Ireland and New Zealand with regard to opportunities, conditions, and wages? Just as male correspondents reported upon work opportunities for Irish women, so too Irish women letter writers discussed men’s employment. When Margaret Kilpatrick arrived in Auckland from Armagh in 1863 she confidently contrasted colonial and Irish work habits: ‘We can live well here. I can tell you they people at home are onely sleeping. The master is not greater than his 151

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servant here. All work, and hard work’ (Ki 1). Her general account was bolstered by specific mention of her husband David’s ability to pursue his blacksmith’s trade. The following century Brigid Dawson’s discussion of her husband’s employment echoed that of Margaret Kilpatrick written more than sixty years earlier. Her husband, Brigid reported, ‘is as happy as the King nothing a-bother to him and is working away every day in the Cemetary in Wanganui cleaning up the walks and prooning bushes and flowers and has a great change made in it’ (Da 1). Some Irish men’s comments on their employment prospects were less favourable. In 1863, eight months after his arrival, Limerick wheelwright James O’Neill wrote that he readily found work. The constant stream of migrants, however, was not entirely conducive to James’s plans. James complained that ‘there is not a ship that comes but brings 1 or 2 wheelers or body makers’. The competition not only hindered James’s prospects, but made it a ‘bad place for some of them’. Despite such drawbacks, James O’Neill remained optimistic, believing that ‘as soon as this war is setled they will all be going out to the country and it will be easier for me to get a place to do some buisiness for myself’. He was confident of his own ability: ‘If I had a place fit for it I know I would do as well as others.’ In common with other adult males in Auckland at the time, James O’Neill underwent compulsory enlistment and was most probably in the Second Class of Militia comprised of business and trades people. He was trained and then posted on ‘night duty one night each week and not to be sent out of the town’ (Ne 1). Other Irish men, primarily single, were more effusive in their praise of the colony’s work opportunities, the continuity of employment in New Zealand being a key difference with Ireland. David McCullough, a 24-year-old native of County Down, arrived in Dunedin in 1875 and initially toiled as a labourer before gaining employment with the Albion Brewing and Malting Company. Six months after his arrival he enthusiastically informed his family, ‘I have never regretted coming out as I have been in constant employment since I came’ (Cu 4). David’s acquaintances also succeeded in gaining employment. William Hobson ‘got work the same day that he came ashore’ (Cu 4). Even the disenchanted David Bell wrote home to Antrim from Otago in 1886 noting, ‘I have been working pretty constant since I came here. In fact I get as much work as I want’ (Be 1). Christchurch accountant William Cardwell also experienced continuity in his employment, despite the firm suffering a period of debt as ‘farmers who got Reapers and Binders from us have had to go bankrupt’ (Ca 1). Two years later William survived a change in the management of agricultural firm Bassett, Morrow and Company. When his old boss departed from the business William considered that ‘if Tom is as good a boss as his two uncles have been I will not have any room to complain’ (Ca 2). William Cardwell’s comment is the only reference to employers in the letters. Several of these young Irish male letter writers had tried their hand at goldmining, a pursuit that proved less sure than labouring, but offered other 152

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benefits. After a period ‘roving about the country’, during which he carted goods to the diggings, Oliver McSparron hoped in 1869 that the ‘next time I write I will be telling you about turning up the Gold by the Hundredweight or perhaps by the ton but whether little or much I will be satisfied with it as all is not gold that glitters’ (Sp 4). At the close of the nineteenth century David McCullough was goldmining on the West Coast. His mining exploits were described in subsequent letters home: Time goes very quick when you are out prospecting shifting camp so often and carrying Tucker. I have had about Eight months of it this time but at any rate we are back again not a bit better off and very little the worse. There is any amount of men in Newzealand and Australia doing the same. The will go into any Country or through any hardship after Gold. (Cu 6)

The unpredictability of mining for gold was also dependent on the weather. As Ellen Piezzi astutely explained from her West Coast hotel: ‘The Weder is very dry just A Now and this is very bad for the digers canot doo Noting When the have Now Water’ (Pi 5). The instability of mining is best summarised by one letter writer from Reefton in 1890: There is very little Alluvial mining carried on here. It is all Quarts mining. These are owned by companies and consist of twenty or thirty thousand shares. These are held by different men and they obtain money to work the claim by striking calls monthly. Sometimes they strike reef bearing good gold which when crushed gives a good yield and pays dividends but very often they are failures and one may be paying calls for years for nothing. There are not many dividends paying claims here at present but there are a great many call paying ones. The place abounds in Quarts reefs and there are some splendid coal mines here but there is not much to be done at alluvial mining here. There is some carried on but there is not more than wages to be made at it. (Fl 17)

Many male correspondents often compared the working situation in New Zealand with recollections of work in Ireland. As Hugh Rea wrote from Clinton, Otago, in 1905 to his brother William in County Down: You Have Know knowledg of How Some people are Situated Here. The labouring class in porticklar you would think Strange in Ireland to See working men traveling on the roads in 1⁄2 dozens carr[y]ing thire Blankats and a little can in thire Hand to make thire tea together with a little Bread in a bag Slung on thire Shoulder. If you were Here you could see this every day in the year. (Re 1)

Frequently, skilled tradesmen discussed what they perceived as divergent work patterns, generally focusing on their own particular crafts. Communicating with his blacksmith father and brother from Tauranga in 1877, John Gilmore stated bluntly that ‘Smithing as everything else is done 153

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in a different way that is the easiest and soonst, make no nails no bolts unless large bolts no nuts, work all our iron’. He further observed in a letter to his family on the Ards Peninsula in County Down, ‘there’s no coming with 2 old shoes to make one new one. We never make out of anything but new iron. Have a heap of old shoes enough to ballast a schooner’ (Ge 7). Professionals also commented on the contrast between work in Ireland and New Zealand. Alexander McKelvey, who arrived in New Zealand in 1902, had previously been a physician at the Richmond Hospital in Dublin and then Assistant Medical Officer at the District Asylum at Omagh.20 Two years after his arrival in New Zealand, he carefully explained to his County Tyrone connexions, I am getting on well here now. The Inspector complimented me on my work last time he was here. This does not happen so often here as at home, Heads of Depts. not being so considerate towards their subordinates as in Ireland. They spend too much time looking after their own interests but I always keep quiet and say nothing. (Ky 1)

Alexander McKelvey also ventured some general contrasts between the two countries in respect of his occupation: ‘We have more trouble of this sort here than at home as all the Criminal Lunatics are treated in the ordinary Asylums & not in Criminal Asylums as they are in England & Ireland’ (Ky 1). Despite opportunities for employment in New Zealand, not every migrant could obtain work and not every migrant actively sought work. David Bell commented disparagingly on both: ‘There is a good many idle people knocking about here, and can get nothing to do whatever, & a good many that wants nothing to do If the could get their tucker. A sort of larry good for nothing fellows and a nuisance to the country’ (Be 1). Such idleness also existed in Ireland. In 1879, during a period of severe economic distress in Ireland, William Cardwell learned ‘that trade is very dull at home and that there are thousands going about idle’ (Ca 1). The dismal employment opportunities in Ireland were also noted seven years later when, discussing her brother’s unemployment in Waterford, Kate Keane candidly told her sister Mary that ‘there is no work for him here’ (Ke 1). The following century saw the arrival of the Great Depression. In September 1931 Mary Jane Hughes advised that her son-in-law Michael O’Connell ‘was nearly two months out of work during the summer’ while Harriette O’Connell revealed in 1937 that Michael ‘was a long time out of work’ (Hu 17, 20).

20 The asylum was in the townland of Cranny in the Cappagh parish. On 16 January 1932, after learning of Alexander’s death, the asylum authorities remembered him as ‘a most efficient, hard working and popular officer’. See P.R.O.N.I., D/1692/4.

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These accounts fluctuated according to time and the place from which the correspondent was writing. Though he was out of work in the 1930s, due to the effect of worldwide depression, a decade earlier Michael O’Connell had been employing ‘two constant men on the farm’. His father-in-law, retired constabulary officer Robert Hughes, had ‘two men & horses ploughing for Potatoes’ (Hu 3). Robert’s work involved ‘Turf cutting & saving’ and at 71 years of age he complained of ‘backache and all the other aches attributed to Turf Cutting’ (Hu 4, 5). Reflecting on his previous employment as a constabulary officer, Robert revealed, ‘I put in 30 years & Seven months & I struggled along as best I could with a family of nine’ (Hu 5). Other correspondents provided more positive accounts of employment in Ireland, including evidence of a range of work attainable at home. However, such accounts only emerged from the 1890s onwards. Relatives of Catherine Colgan in Antrim pursued several trades in the 1890s: ‘John is learning to be a carpenter, Willie is working with painters’ (Co 1). That same decade Martin Strong elatedly reported to his cousin Daniel, ‘I went for an examination in the Customs and took 27th place out of over 1,000 candidates’ (St 3). Martin’s brother John meanwhile set up as a publican in Tipperary, a trade pursued by relatives of James McIlrath and Philip Carroll (St 6; Il 15; Cl 14). The following century William Quinn learned that his nephew Bernard Quinn was studying marine engineering, and proffered his advice: ‘If you are a first class man you make good money at it but if you can get a good Job on Land you would be better of’ (Qu 4). Matt Farrell was also studying – but to become a priest, explaining to his brother in 1914: ‘If I pass the Exam alright (which I hope I will) I will be in Mungret by the time this reaches you’ (Fa 2). Robert Hughes and Martin and John Strong were the only correspondents in Ireland to refer to male wages. Despite his successful application to the customs, Martin sadly informed his cousin Daniel, ‘when examined by the doctor he regected me for weak lungs. It was a loss to me. The salary commences at £95 and rises to £650 per year’ (St 3). Martin also revealed that a cousin in England ‘is earning over £5 a week’ (St 3). John Strong, meanwhile, divulged in 1905 that acquaintances were ‘earning big money at Sin[n]ott’s in Dublin’ (St 6). From Sligo in 1924 Robert Hughes disclosed of his son-in-law Michael O’Connell, an officer in the Irish army, that his ‘pay is good & that he is a man looked up to much by the authorities’ (Hu 5). If high wages ensured comfort for some men in Ireland, they prevented others from employing labour and forced them to undertake tasks themselves. Robert Hughes, for instance, claimed to be ‘struggling along keeping on my old feet and carrying on the work at a rapid rate doing all myself. You could not employ labour wages are so high’ (Hu 5). He was delighted to hear, though, that his migrant son Thomas ‘will have a fine pension’ and when learning of Thomas’s new position in a later letter hoped that ‘it carries a good salary with it’ (Hu 6, 8). Compared with reports from Ireland, discussion of wages in letters from New Zealand to Ireland is plentiful. Comments concerning wages and hours in New Zealand are also largely favourable. For example, both James O’Neill 155

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and Margaret Kilpatrick reported positively from Auckland in the early 1860s. According to O’Neill, coachsmiths could command at least £3 a week for eight hours work a day (Ne 1). Margaret’s husband, David Kilpatrick, a blacksmith, worked ‘from 7– to 6. If he goes back after 6 he is paid over time’ (Ki 1). The following decade from Wanganui Patrick Treanor discussed both his wages and hours of work: ‘I am with a nurseryman at 2£ per week wet & dry. I have been here for the last 14 months. I am living in a tent working from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. I could get navvy work here but not constant’ (Tr 1). Patrick’s wages contrasted substantially with the average colonial wage rate three years earlier of £50–60 p.a. Reports varied in the following decade. From Otago in 1880, Oliver McSparron noted that ‘General farm servants get from 10s to 15s and 20s per week and scarcely any work to be got at that rate. The government are employing men on the railways at 21s per week’ (Sp 6). Six years later, David Bell reported positively on the progress of his brothers in Otago: ‘Bob has got as good a job as in the country nearely, Ploughing all the year round 8 hours each day & plenty to eat & Drink And he has got a good wage . . . . Billy is as content as you Please. Nothing to trouble him. He is making plenty of money’ (Be 1). David Bell’s account was clearly intended to reassure his family in Antrim that both he and his brothers were prospering nicely during a downswing in the colony’s economy. Wages in the following century continued to be reported favourably, but accounts were tempered by the instability of much work. Catherine Sullivan positively endorsed employment conditions for males in the colony from Manawatu in 1905: ‘this is a good country for working men as some men have from ten to twelve shillings per day. It is not like at home. The worst men here won’t come to work for less than 7/- per day; and only work from 8 to 5 pm’ (Su 1). That same year, from Otago, Hugh Rea commented agreeably on wages, but this was counteracted by the impermanence of labour: ‘The wages in this country is good but in a great manny cases you cannot get Steady Employment So that when you calculate your earnings for the year it comes to be a verry Small avrage’ (Re 1). A bleaker representation of colonial work appeared in the correspondence of gumdigger Patrick Quinn. Allegedly ‘the last refuge of the waster and the failure’,21 gumdigging provided a supplementary income for Patrick. Having applied for and obtained a pension of £18 in 1900,22 Patrick was allowed a 21

Alan Mulgan, ‘Literature and landscape in New Zealand’ in New Zealand Geographer, ii (1946), p. 198. 22 Patrick Quinn’s claim was received on 27 March 1900 and his pension certificate was granted eight months later. See Record Book, Old Age Pension Claim Register, BADC ACC 497/63, in N.A.A. The Minute Book Old Age Pension, BADC ACC A497/64, p. 101, contains references as to Patrick’s character, considered good, and confirmation of his age. The Old Age Pension Certificate Register, BADC ACC 497/67, p. 1, records Patrick’s death. 156

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further £34 p.a. when the extractive gum industry peaked. But as he complained bitterly in 1903 from Dargaville, the second largest urban settlement in Northland during the period of his correspondence,23 ‘I am at the Gum Digging and I dont avarage 2 shillings a week. It is no good. If there is one man making Wagges there is 20 barrley making tucker and onley for the pension I wood bee verry badley of’ (Qu 1). By contrast, Patrick Quinn’s nephew was progressing satisfactorily, according to his uncle William, who wrote in 1906 from Auckland to reassure Robert’s mother that her son was ‘in constent work and getting good wages’ (Qu 5). The following year medical doctor Alexander McKelvey was delighted to be able to report an increase of £25 in his salary though he was quick to qualify this remark by announcing that ‘There is a steady rise in the prices of everything here so that it is hard to manage. Meat has risen 3d a pound in my time. So that the increase of £25 is not so much as it appears’ (Ky 2). A focus on wages continued to preoccupy correspondents in the 1920s. According to Brigid Dawson, her husband can make about five pounds a week where he is for 71⁄2 hours a day and never saw his Boss Father Mahony since he started only once that he rung him up for a hook and he came with but never stopped a minute. He leaves his money in Mrs Burrells for him £4 so he make another pound up of tips for cleaning graves. (Da 1)

These accounts reveal that employment in New Zealand contrasted in many respects with occupations in Ireland, particularly with regard to mining and transient labour. Wages also featured more prominently in letters from New Zealand, and were predominantly positive. Such accounts were not only designed to reassure home readers, but also to provide contemporary information about wage opportunities in New Zealand for those contemplating migration. Accounts from both countries, though occasionally discouraging, were also generally positive. How did reports from their farming counterparts compare? Many migrants to New Zealand emerged from farming backgrounds but only the McIlraths, the McClures, and John Armstrong themselves became farmers in the colony. Nevertheless, the farming background of many migrants meant that they often commented on farming practices in New Zealand. Likewise, farmers in Ireland often conveyed details about their farming activities, prompting migrants to respond with information relating to colonial farming, thereby highlighting the differences between the practices of the Old and New Worlds.

23 Colin P. D. Regan, ‘The distribution and character of the population of Northland 1874, 1906, and 1926: three essays in historical population geography’, M.A. thesis, University of New Zealand, 1959, p. 55.

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Many farmers in Ireland relied on their sons for help. William Lysaght’s work as a farmhand in 1869, for instance, generated his boast from Limerick to his migrant brother that ‘I had some hard work this past Harvest. I can mow pretty well now. I often cut an acre last season’ (Ly 2). In the last decade of the century, Rose Gamble learned that her stepfather Charles Colgan, without sons, was ‘busy ploughing. Indeed he has to work hard on account of him having no help of his own’ (Co 1). As we have seen, Colgan’s situation was probably hampered by high labour costs. The letters from Ireland indicate that both tillage and livestock farming were volatile. As 1872 drew to a close, Edmund Lysaght complained wearily, ‘This was a wet and a bad year here. It is continually raining. We have no potatoes and other crops were equally bad’ (Ly 7). Apart from their tillage pursuits, the Lysaghts also maintained livestock. William Lysaght reported in 1866 from the family’s County Limerick farm: ‘We have 12 cows in Pallasbeg. We will live here this year when we will then move to the Glebe where we will have 20 cows’ (Ly 1). The volatility of livestock farming surfaced four years later when Edmund Lysaght suffered the loss of valuable animals: ‘I have met pretty heavy losses this season. Cow and pigs [erased: f] worth £50 died on me’ (Ly 3). Though not disputing Edmund Lysaght’s loss, we should bear in mind that his letter was sent to deflect his migrant son’s request for money. Other reports also document the precarious character of farming in Ireland, with County Monaghan farmer William Gilmer just as susceptible to the loss of livestock. In 1886, he suffered the loss of ‘3 pigs with disease & a good horse took founder’. He bleakly concluded, ‘My luck in farming has not been very good as yet’ (Gr 2). William therefore resolved to ‘try something else than farming in Ireland, working & spending money for nothing’ (Gr 2). Local farming conditions in New Zealand could also be portrayed negatively. James O’Neill, based at Auckland, declared in 1863, ‘There is not much tillage about here. The land is bad’ (Ne 1). Most accounts of farming conditions throughout New Zealand, though, tended to be favourable. Correspondents frequently reflected on fences and manure, mirroring the McIlraths’ account that opened this chapter. Writing from Tauranga in 1876, John Gilmore informed County Down readers that ‘There is no trouble about wreak or dung no such thing spoken of. Plough and sow is all’ (Ge 6). Manure was also stressed in Irish–Australian letters as unimportant in Australian farming practices.24 Bessie Macready, meanwhile, observed from Canterbury in 1881 that there was ‘Not much land lost by fences here’ (Ma 2). Despite the generally less labour intensive farming techniques in New Zealand, James McIlrath warmly reminisced about practices in Ireland from his Canterbury farm. He was especially nostalgic in 1891:

24

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 575. 158

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We have had one of the Driest summers here this one that I remember. It puts me in mind of hearing the old people talk of the year of short corn. It is short enough here this year. We have just finished stacking. Johnie can manage the Reaper and Binder very well. It is nice to see the sheafs come off Bound, but still I think the old harvest with the Hook looked merry. (Il 33)

Advances in mechanisation featured throughout the late nineteenth century and by 1906 Hamilton McIlrath enthusiastically described the colony’s utilisation of machinery and stressed the contrasts with the home environment. His comparisons are likely to have been largely accurate, given that he was a colonial farmer corresponding with two farming brothers in Ireland: people here have far more up to date implements to work the land than at home. We have from a one furrow to a four furrow plough, disc harrows and cultivator grain & manure drill and two reapers and binders and one man works from four to six horses in a teem but they dont work near so long hours here as at home only eight hours a day and a half holiday a week. We never house the cattle here so there is no trouble with manure. (Il 37)

Comparisons between New Zealand and Ireland also feature in Catherine Sullivan’s letter from Manawatu in 1905. She told her Limerick-based brotherin-law: ‘They don’t churn the cream out here like we did at home. They take it to the factory.’ The flax also differed: ‘Dear Tom the flax here is not like the flax at home. One blade would tie the strongest horse. It is about 6ft long more or less’ (Su 1). The nature of the livestock encountered also evoked comment. Sheep featured in several letters but in contrast with Ireland it was volume rather than type of livestock that prompted commentary. In 1862 James McIlrath reported on ‘1200 cattle and 12000 sheep and about 100 Horses not to mention the wild pigs’ (Il 6). During her period of quarantine in 1876 Alice Gilmore observed a thousand sheep on Motuihe Island while from Canterbury five years later Bessie Macready disclosed that ‘Farmers keep them in thousands’ (Ge 5; Ma 2). The different timing of the seasons was another point of discussion. From Waimate in 1888 Annie Dempsey wrote, The Sheep are lambing hear just now and thee People are buisy sowen there oats and spring wheat so yous see how different it is from home. The sheep and grazin was verry low Price till now. The have taken a turn for the better. The are rising every week in Price and every thing is loocking up in fact (De 5)

Two years earlier, however, an alternative portrait of farming practices was painted. When David Bell, born near Kells in Antrim, wrote home in 1886 from Duntroon in Otago, he opined that if the land in the district ‘was Broken up in farms from 200 up to 500 acres It would form one of the best places in 159

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the world for a farmer to speculate upon, for it is splendid land almost all the farming land having limestone bottom’ (Be 1). Despite his positive portrayal of the condition of the land, David Bell observed that farmers did not have it easy: ‘At the present time a working man in a good situation is better off than any of the small farmers are.’ He went on to castigate farmers for being ‘pretty flash livers . . . not worth a shilling’ due to their mortgaged land and assets (Be 1). During the same decade, Oliver McSparron wrote in similar vein from Otago that ‘There is nothing but farmers selling out and insolvencies on all sides’ (Sp 6). Hamilton McIlrath also underwent trials during the 1880s, but remained optimistic: I dont think their is any better country than N. Zealand. A few years ago people here were doing too well and speculated too much on Land and other ways and got haeily in debt and now the reaction has set in they feel as woeful as a drunken man when he is Getting sober again. (Il 32)

An important element of farming life in New Zealand, as in Ireland, was the terms under which land was held. The extent of landholdings, land tenure, and the value of land were all contrasted with accounts from Ireland. From Canterbury in 1862, James McIlrath noted with wonder, ‘In this run there is thirty thousand acres’ (Il 6). Later letters in the McIlrath series reported on their acquisition of land. Hamilton bought 100 acres and another 50 acres in 1879 (Il 14, 29). From Canterbury in 1881, Bessie Macready informed her cousin, ‘The gentleman I am with possesses land up country & in one paddock he has 600 acres’ (Ma 2). Five years later from Otago, David Bell told his farming brother in Antrim that ‘All the good available land in this district is taken up in big blocks of from 2 & 3 thousand acres up to as much as one hundred thousand acres’ (Be 1). In Manawatu in 1905 Catherine Sullivan’s son-in-law ‘has about 800 acres of land in use’ (Su 1). Astonishment over the scale of colonial landholdings was something Irish correspondents in New Zealand shared with their Australian counterparts.25 Few correspondents in Ireland commented on the extent of landholding. Two exceptions were Catherine Cunnane and William Lysaght. From Limerick in 1866 William Lysaght wrote to his brother, ‘We have taken 42 acres of Mr Atkinsons land about a week ago. We have all the College Land he had’ (Ly 1).26 By the late nineteenth century farms of 30 acres or more made up about one-third of all Irish farms.27 In the western counties, however, small

25

Ibid., p. 576. Thomas Atkinson died in 1865. The College Land refers to the Governors of Erasmus Smiths Schools who were the immediate lessors. This was land obtained by Erasmus Smith in the seventeenth century. A trust was established with the revenues from the estates used to educate children. 27 Hoppen, Ireland since 1800, p. 92. 26

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farms persisted. Catherine Cunnane’s 1906 comment from Bekan, County Mayo therefore clearly reflects her regional origins: ‘I am hapy to hear that your farm is so large it Would take you some time to Walk over it all. In some parts of Ireland thirty or forty families has not as much land as you have. We have but very small farms in Ireland’ (Dw 2). In the light of such comments, it is scarcely surprising that migrants and non-migrants were impressed with the scale of farms in New Zealand. Tenure patterns also featured in several letters exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand. In 1866 William Lysaght observed from County Limerick that ‘James Cunningham has got the leases’, while his brother Edward was also reminded of the money borrowed by the family to obtain the farm (Ly 1, 2, 3). The reluctance of Irish farmers to divide their land was also evident in Edmund Lysaght’s gruff retort to his son, ‘As for dividing this farm tis not be thought of’ (Ly 3). Correspondents in New Zealand often contrasted landholding practices with those in Ireland. Writing from Canterbury in 1862 James McIlrath informed his readers that The run Holders has the land from goverment for about one penny per acre and some less. The more stock the less rent but any person can choose a piece of that land where he likes and buy it from goverment at 2£ per acre which is the price of all governent land title Crown grant. (Il 6)

James furthermore noted, ‘Many comes here with Family and is not able to buy land for themselfs. The rent it at a low rent of about 3 [word illegible] an acre with a purchesing clause. That is they pay the rent for 5 years at which [erased: period] period it is theirs for 5£ an acre’ (Il 6). Commenting on the settlement of north of Ireland migrants at Katikati in the following decade, John Gilmore advised Ards Peninsula readers, ‘I think will cost about 30s per acre half the money to be paid down, the remainder in 4 years, the Government to pay all passage and the tenant to pay for the land’ (Ge 7). As for his brother Andrew, John Gilmore told his parents, ‘Andy has a good house & the ground that it sits on for 21 years at very little rent’ (Ge 7). Meanwhile, in 1904 from Waimate, Annie Dempsey wrote anxiously, ‘The leas of my land is up. Dont forget to pray for me that I may get a good [?tennent] next time’ (De 10). The unpredictability of land prices also featured in letters from New Zealand. From Southland, James McClure told his sisters in 1865 that ‘One friend refused to sell some land 2 years ago at £4 per acre & now offers it at 25/- shillings & can not get it’ (Ce 5). When buying out his brother’s share of their joint land, James McIlrath gave Hamilton £350, ‘£7–10s per Acre for his share of the 100 Acres’ (Il 15). James later told home readers that ‘I was offered One thousand £1000 pounds or ten pounds per Acre’ for that land (Il 18b). As time progressed, he reported that ‘Land property is one third higher than [erased: wh] when last I wrote. I would get fifteen pounds £15 per Acre now 161

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quick’ (Il 21). Town sections ‘fetched up to £30 Thirty pounds per half Acre free forever’ (Il 21). In 1905 Hugh Rea had his Otago ‘proterty in the market for Sale but as fare as came I cant Sell at the price I want for it’ (Re 1). The cost of land purchases and rents also featured in the letters sent from Ireland. Limerick native Jeremiah Spelman advised his daughter in 1846, ‘I sold this place for £80’ (Dw 1). In 1860 Gordon McClure told his sisters that brother James put their land ‘into the Irish land court which will sell it sometime [th]is autum[n]. He expects to get £1200 for it’ (Ce 2). Six years later William Lysaght informed his brother Edward that an acquaintance ‘is paying 55 shillings per acre for it while our rent is only £1.1.4 per acre which leaves us a profit rent of £1.13.8 per acre’ (Ly 1). Edmund Lysaght’s holding in the townland of Knocknacarriga, which contained the residence for the Anglican clergy of Doon,28 was valued at £28 in 1869. When Edmund took occupancy, it was the third largest holding but with the second highest valuation. He also held land in the neighbouring townlands of Gortnagarde and Ballycoshown valued annually at £1 and £12 respectively.29 In 1880, connexions of Margaret Kilpatrick in Armagh had their ‘whole concern bought at £1400’ (Ki 7). Fifteen years later from Tipperary the Strongs advised their cousin Daniel that ‘We bought land to the amount of £500’ (St 3). Compared with Ireland, land in New Zealand was distinguished by the greater extent of landholdings, the relative cheapness of land, and comparative freedom from taxes. Nevertheless, the value of colonial land remained unpredictable. Colonial farming also contrasted significantly with practices in Ireland, most notably with regard to an absence of fences, natural manure, and machinery. It therefore mirrored the ‘alien character’ of colonial farming represented in letters from Australia to Ireland. 30 Unlike the depressing accounts of farming in Ireland, New Zealand accounts were largely positive. How did reports of food, crops, and prices compare? As well as their preoccupation with land values, Irish farmers in New Zealand were also obsessed with the prices of their crops, which were frequently precarious. In 1867 Hamilton McIlrath reflected soberly, Markets never was as low in Canterbury as this present year. Wheat is from two to three shillings per bushel and very little demand for it even at that price. Oats is much the same and nearly unsaleable. We have any amount of both but we [erased: till] shall let the rats eat it before we sell it for that price just yet. (Il 12)

28 The Glebe was reputedly built in 1808 by Richard Chadwick at the expense of £700. The townland of Knocknacarriga remained in the parish of Doon until 1973 at which time it became part of the Cappamore parish. See Cappamore Historical Society, Cappamore: a parish history (Midleton, 1992), p. 173. 29 Possibly he is the Edward Lysaght holding land at Gortavalla South which was transferred in 1866. 30 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 574.

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In the mid 1870s reports were more favourable; James McIlrath wrote: ‘Times has never been better since we came here than the have been since last I wrote. Cattle is 75 per cent higher than they were two years ago. Land property is one third higher than [erased: wh] when last I wrote’ (Il 21). Inevitably, impressions of New Zealand varied according to the time and place the migrant was writing from. The McIlraths, like many, were subject to fluctuations in prices and yields, at home and abroad, as Hamilton’s letter home in 1886 indicated, during a time of depression in the colony: ‘There is a great cry of hard times here as elsewhere. It is pretty hard to make much money at present but still I can hold my own pretty confortable. Sheep that sold last year for 18s/ are fetching at present about eight or nine shillings’ (Il 32). Six years later James outlined the difficulties in determining what crops to cultivate: Markets is so unreliable that we never know what to grow. . . . Barley is sometimes unsaleble Oats not worth growing and Wheat ruled by the London market the carrige so far redusing the price greatly. In fact we have far to[o] much for Local use and has to rely on the outside Markets. (Il 34)

Fluctuating incomes derived from local, regional, and overseas markets therefore intensified farmers’ obsessions over their crop prices. The price of crops and stock in Ireland rarely featured in the correspondence, though Hanora Dwyer observed gravely from Limerick in 1846 that potatoes fetched ‘over a pound a Barrill’ (Dw 1). Despite the continued reliance on the potato, only two correspondents from Ireland mentioned the Great Irish Famine of the 1840s. From Dromkeen in County Limerick in 1846, Hanora Dwyer dejectedly informed her son that ‘There is a great failure in the Potatoes here in general through the whole Kingdom. There was never a finer crop grew and before the digging they got spotted and after piting rotted away to nearly no seed at all for the next season’ (Dw 1). Almost eighty years later, Robert Hughes referred to the interventions of a vicar on Achill Island: ‘The Rector in old times when there was great distress & famin got them a ship load of seed Potatoes to plant their ground. Well the people called them “Protestants” after the Parson, so the carry that name still & are good for Eating’ (Hu 1). In a later letter, Robert Hughes’s wife marvelled, ‘Fancy you digging new potatoes at xmas. It seems so strange to the people in this country’ (Hu 18). Setbacks with potato cultivation could, however, be counteracted as Catherine Cunnane revealed from Co. Mayo in 1906: ‘We have just finished getting up the potatoes. The crop is fair with us But people who did not spray has but very little as the Blight destroyed them to soon. If sprayed in time it prevents the Blight’ (Dw 2). Two years after her letter was written, potatoes were cultivated on 587,000 acres, a massive decline from the 2.1 million acres committed to potatoes in the early 1840s.31

31

These figures cited in Hoppen, Ireland since 1800, p. 93. 163

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Other crops, besides potatoes, appeared in letters from Ireland. David McCullough in Dunedin was ‘glad to hear that you have so good crops of corn and so fine an apperance of Turnips’ (Cu 4). Correspondents in Ireland also discussed the range of food available to them. When Philip Carroll returned to Tipperary in 1925 he was treated to ‘Lashings of milk eggs, milk butter cream and other good wholesome food’ (Cl 12). Less healthily, he indulged in cigarettes, which undoubtedly incurred his wife’s disapproval: As for ‘coffin nails’. I am still using the little dears and although they only cost 6d per packet of ten, three packets generally last me a couple of days. Doctors differ, patients die. Dr Powell when I asked his advice about smoking said six or seven cigarettes a day would not do me any harm and that he would prefer to see me smoking cigarettes to a pipe. (Cl 18)

It was inevitably the harmful effects of smoking which led to David Kilpatrick’s effort to give them up: ‘He smoked for 60 years & it was a battle I can tell you’ (Ki 13). Several decades earlier, Margaret Kilpatrick observed from Auckland that ‘Every thing is a little dearer here but then we cant complain of that’ (Ki 1). She set out a catalogue of food and prices encompassing tea, coffee, sugar, bread, flour, beef, butter, and eggs. A year later, in 1863, James O’Neill’s list was similar but also included potatoes and milk (Ne 1). In 1877 Agnes Lambert cautioned that Auckland ‘is not much of a place unless you have plenty of money’ (La 1). Thirteen years later the situation remained ominous: ‘Pototes is ten shillins for [erased: half] a hundred and flour is ten shilins for a fifty pounds Beg and those is thing we use a Deal of. Suyyer [sugar] sixpence a pound’ (La 4). That food prices fluctuated according to the time and place of writing is evident from Bessie Macready’s enthusiastic reports on the quality and cost of food from Canterbury in 1881: ‘Mutton we are now buying at 2d per lb for fore quartis and in the summer @ 11⁄2 pr lb splendid. We have got good & cheap butchers meat good flour our baker’s bread is equal if not better than the best home bread & as cheap 3d for 2lb loaf. Butter very nice & cheaper than home’ (Ma 2). The ready availability of food also meant that William Alexander, a friend of the McIlrath brothers, ‘told an old Lady at Tea one evening when She asked him if He would have Butter or Cheese he simply said both please’ (Il 13). Mobile migrants frequently transported their food, as David McCullough revealed: ‘You have to carry all you eat on our backs.’ Goldminers such as David McCullough also had to depend upon capturing wildlife for food: ‘There are plenty of birds pigeons, Kaka and ducks and also the weka or Wood-hen. It cannot fly. The walk or run along the ground. The dogs can easily catch them. The come in very handy when one is short of meat’ (Cu 6). This chapter has illuminated the diverse employment opportunities available to Irish correspondents in both New Zealand and Ireland. Irish letter writers 164

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in New Zealand, both male and female, were able to undertake assorted work, which they reported on primarily in favourable terms. Though some accounts of work from Ireland were less positive, overall the accounts testify to the range of jobs available for both men and women. For non-migrant correspondents, at least, this may have compensated for their depressing accounts of the Irish environment assessed in the previous chapter. Accounts of farming in Ireland, on the other hand, were less favourable. Meanwhile, Irish farmers in New Zealand wrote energetically and positively about their farming practices in New Zealand, stressing the numerous contrasts evident between Irish and colonial practices. Such comparisons were not confined to farming techniques, but also incorporated contrasts in the way in which land was held, and the sheer scale of colonial farming. Farming correspondents, as with non-farming letter writers, shared a concern with prices. These could oscillate dramatically according to time and place, and such fluctuations determined disparate responses between the farming and non-farming communities. High prices for farmers signified prosperity, while consumers were happier with low food costs.

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‘Bands of fellowship’ Familial relations and social networks in New Zealand In July 1857 Michael and Patrick Flanagan, sons of John Flanagan and Anne Maguire, and grandsons of Patrick Flanagan senior, travelled to Liverpool, and five days later sailed for Melbourne on the Oliver Lang. Returned on shipping registers as Pat and ‘John’ Flanagan, labourers of 24 and 21 years of age respectively, they arrived in Australia on 16 October accompanied by a 22-year-old friend, Pat Mooney.1 Their migration was probably spurred in part by the lure of the Australian goldfields to which they gravitated after arrival. Letters indicate that Michael and Patrick went their separate ways in Australia though they reunited to voyage to the New Zealand goldfields in the mid 1860s. The brothers were part of a strong influx of Irish migrating to the West Coast from Australia.2 Though we still await confirmation of the overall accuracy of Fr Binsfield’s comments ‘that the Irish miners in Westland in those days came from the well to do classes at home . . . . Most of them were sons of well to do farmers’,3 Michael and Patrick Flanagan certainly fitted his generalisation. Their grandfather occupied a 28-acre property at Duffstown as well as property at Balfeddock, in the civil parish of Termonfeckin, County Louth. His combined holdings fetched a staggering £138 rental per annum in the mid nineteenth century. By April 1865 the Flanagan brothers had settled at Hokitika. In early 1867 they moved to Charleston, dubbed a town of ‘calico and canvas’.4 From there Michael, somewhat enviously, informed home readers that Patrick ‘is one of the very few upon whom the climate or the hardships to be endured in this vagabond life seems to have no ef[f]ect’ (Fl 2).

1

Unassisted passengers to Victoria, fiche 130, P.R.O. Laverton. I am grateful to David Fitzpatrick for this information. 2 For aspects of this movement see Lyndon Fraser, ‘Irish migration to the West Coast, 1864–1900’ in N.Z.J.H., xxxiv (2000), pp 197–225. 3 Cited in Neil Patrick Vaney, ‘The dual tradition: Irish Catholics and French priests in New Zealand, the West Coast experience, 1865–1910’, M.A. thesis, University of Canterbury, 1976, pp 29–30. 4 Irwin Faris, Charleston: its rise and decline (Wellington, 1941), p. 24. 166

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The Flanagan series of letters is especially revealing for its discussion of the social networks within which Patrick and Michael moved. Though natives of Louth were only a small percentage of the Irish contingent on the West Coast, the Flanagans encountered other miners from Termonfeckin, such as Peter Greene. On hearing this, their brother Richard wrote, ‘it must be very pleasant to have one near you from your own neighbourhood at home’ (Fl 1). Michael Flanagan was also able to inform home readers that fellow Louth man ‘Richard Sheridan is quite well’ (Fl 2). Wider networks were also evident at Grahamstown in 1869. As Patrick told Michael after his arrival there, ‘I have seen a good number that I know’ (Fl 6). Also among the Flanagans’ network of acquaintances was Patrick Kirk, a native of Clogher in County Louth. Kirk had spent time in Australia before voyaging to the New Zealand goldfields where his life was cut tragically short. The deceased man’s mother, Bridget Kirk, sought Michael Flanagan’s help to secure her son’s money (Fl 11). Money was discussed often in the Flanagan letters, particularly in relation to loans. Analysis of this further illuminates the relationships both brothers established in the colony, and the mutual aid character of these networks. Patrick, considering departing for California in 1869 to join his brother Nicholas, contemplated, ‘I should lik to leave every thing clear behind. Do you think is there any chance of getting anything from Mooney or Fleming . . . Hanratty owes me seven pounds T Fallon a few more D Madigan a couple’ (Fl 8). In 1870 Patrick Flanagan left New Zealand for California. Michael followed in June 1871. During the next two decades Michael remained in contact with associates in New Zealand, receiving letters from them about mutual acquaintances including P. S. Dempsey, who ‘got married to a Miss Street I think you know her Bar maid at the Melboiurne Hotel by the Registrar and I have heard the lived very unhappy’ (Fl 16). By 1890 Michael had acquiesced to his elderly father’s wishes for him to return to Ireland. One year later John Flanagan was dead. At the time of the 1901 Census, 61-year-old Michael was living with his sister-in-law Bridget Flanagan, her children, and two servants at Tobertoby. He died on 10 November 1904.5 Eight years earlier Patrick had died in California. Nine days before he died, he had written to Michael, admitting, ‘a better brother you have been to me than I have been to y . . . I hope between you an me there will be the best of feeling and that you will forgive me all the differences we ever had.’6

5 Michael Flanagan’s personal estate was valued for administration at £417 3s 1d and granted to his sister Judith Garvey. See Indices of Wills and Administrations for 1905 [81], in N.A.I. 6 Patrick Flanagan (Napa) to Michael Flanagan (Tobertoby), 17 January 1896, in Fr John Murphy and Donald Murphy (eds), The Flanagan letters, 1864–1909: a transcript of the correspondence of the Flanagan family of Tobertoby, Termonfeckin, Drogheda, Co. Louth (1997), p. 144 (privately printed).

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Apart from the insight they provide about the brothers’ relationship, the Flanagan letters are illuminating for their discussion of the kin and neighbourhood networks that surrounded Michael and Patrick in New Zealand. Their story illustrates a central thesis of this book – that family and neighbourhood connexions not only initiated, but also sustained and facilitated Irish migration to and settlement in New Zealand. Other sequences also testify to the strength of such connexions and in the New Zealand context provide a striking contrast to Miles Fairburn’s claim that nineteenth-century New Zealand’s social organisation was ‘gravely deficient’.7 Eschewing ethnicity as a governing category, Fairburn has alleged that, ‘The scantiness of kinship ties deprived colonists of a base for the development of community ties.’8 In opposition to this representation of migration to New Zealand, a growing band of scholars have collectively presented an alternative version. The thrust of this latter historiography emphasises the existence rather than absence of strong family and community networks which served to lessen social dislocation. Among earlier works are Raewyn Dalziel’s investigation of migration from Devon and Plymouth to New Plymouth in the 1840s and Maureen Molloy’s analysis of the Nova Scotian settlement at Waipu.9 Recent community studies by Lyndon Fraser and Caroline Daley have continued the challenge. Fraser’s work on the nineteenth-century West Coast Irish uses a range of sources, including nomination files, correspondence with colonial authorities, probate records, intestacy cases, and personal letters to illuminate companionship.10 His earlier investigation of Irish Catholics in nineteenthcentury Christchurch used birth, death, and marriage records, parish registers, probate files, genealogies, and street directories to reveal ‘the persistence of deeply embedded social ties based on ethnicity and kinship’.11 Daley’s exploration through the lens of gender of the district of Taradale also drew upon a range of genealogical sources, in conjunction with oral interviews, to demonstrate that Taradale’s inhabitants were members of dense kin networks.12 The thrust of this current historiography not only documents the presence of family and friends in the colony, but also considers the ongoing interaction of such relationships. Fairburn, however, has challenged findings based on local

7

Miles Fairburn, The ideal society and its enemies: the foundations of modern New Zealand society, 1850–1900 (Auckland, 1989), p. 11. 8 Ibid., pp 192–3. Fairburn also dismisses gender, region, class, and religion as governing categories, employing instead the colony’s social organisation. 9 Raewyn Dalziel, ‘Emigration and kinship: migrants to New Plymouth, 1840–1843’ in N.Z.J.H., xxv (1991), pp 112–28; Maureen Molloy, Those who speak to the heart: the Nova Scotian Scots at Waipu, 1854–1920 (Palmerston North, 1991). 10 Lyndon Fraser, ‘Irish migration to the West Coast’. 11 Lyndon Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead: Irish Catholic immigrants in nineteenth-century Christchurch (Auckland, 1997), p. 11. 12 Caroline Daley, Girls and women, men and boys: gender in Taradale, 1886–1930 (Auckland, 1999). 168

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case studies, particularly because they ‘cannot tell us how family and kin ties operated in the wider colonial context’.13 The present study, drawing upon letters from a range of districts in New Zealand, attempts to do so. The personal letters exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland reveal that Irish migrants made their journeys to New Zealand in tightly woven networks based on family and neighbourhood ties that were sustained long after settlement. Letters like the Flanagan sequence also show the relentless and energetic continuity of such ties despite mobility around the world. Such findings raise important questions about the interpretations made by some historians who have too easily assumed that mobility inevitably led to weak kinship networks. Frances Porter and Charlotte Macdonald, for instance, have recently reaffirmed Fairburn’s conclusions in their compilation of extracts from the writings of nineteenth-century women in New Zealand. They assert that there was a ‘lack of society’, that migration was ‘inherently destabilising’, and that ‘family ties were to be shrugged off, or were no longer there . . . . It was a place to establish new connections.’14 They further claim that these hardships were not ‘borne with stoicism or cheerfulness. Their spirits were squashed, diminished, sapped, and their suffering and pain, real.’15 The fact that most of Porter and Macdonald’s extracts are taken from the writings of middle-class English women suggests that their experiences of migration differed dramatically from the Irish correspondents included in this book. By contrast, Charlotte Erickson’s examination of English correspondents in North America has identified strong network relationships there. Even so, Erickson observes that ‘women of all classes were more likely to express their unhappiness as migrants’.16 Those who did adjust successfully drew upon their faith, health, and economic success.17 One aim of this chapter is to demonstrate the existence and operation of Irish migrant ties among correspondents. Both familial relationships and social networks were transported to the colony, and sustained correspondents long after settlement. We have already seen that these networks were of utmost benefit in aiding newcomers by providing vital practical access to or assistance with employment and accommodation. A further important aspect of these informal relationships and networks was in facilitating marriages based on Irish birth, and consequently establishing a family. The contribution of formal networks, primarily the Ancient Order of Hibernians and Orange Order, is

13

Miles Fairburn, ‘A discourse on critical method’ in N.Z.J.H., xxv (1991), p. 161. Frances Porter and Charlotte Macdonald (eds), ‘My hand will write what my heart dictates’: the unsettled lives of women in nineteenth-century New Zealand as revealed to sisters, family, and friends (Auckland, 1996), pp 3, 386–7. 15 Ibid., p. 5. 16 Charlotte Erickson, Invisible immigrants: the adaptation of English and Scottish immigrants in nineteenth-century America (London, 1972), p. 66. 17 Charlotte Erickson, Leaving England: essays on British emigration in the nineteenth century (Ithaca and London, 1994), p. 261. 14

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also considered, though the chapter argues that for Irish letter writers, informal rather than formal connexions played a greater role in facilitating adjustment to New Zealand society. A further aim of this chapter is to explore the quality of these relationships, since much of the evidence used for ascertaining the existence of familial relations and social networks also illuminates the character of these associations. Both aspects are combined in the following discussion. Private letters offer penetrating insight in assessing ‘whether kinship sentiments were powerful or feeble, antagonistic or affectionate’.18 A discussion of the wills of Irish correspondents further illuminates the quality of relationships and the maintenance of kinship and expatriate ties. The analysis also considers whether Catholics were more likely than their Protestant counterparts to give priority to family pursuits (as claimed by Kerby Miller).19 As outlined earlier, several correspondents made their voyage to New Zealand either accompanied by or intending to reunite with family or friends. Of the thirty-six migrants studied in this book, as many as nineteen are known to have voyaged with kin or friends to New Zealand. Margaret Kilpatrick was one such migrant. She travelled to Auckland in 1862 with her husband, infant son, and William Erskine, a friend from Armagh. As Margaret reported shortly after their arrival at Auckland: ‘William Erskine has written home so I need not say any thing about him’ (Ki 1). At least nineteen migrants also either followed or were followed by family or friends already settled in New Zealand.20 Among the most complex of the migrations was that of the McMullan and McCaughan families, who hailed from County Antrim. In the early 1870s Hector McCaughan left the civil parish of Ballintoy and settled at Green Island in Otago. His brother John followed in 1879, also electing to reside at Green Island. The following decade the McCaughans were joined by their sister Catherine McMullan’s children Zachariah, Rose, Catherine, and James, all of whom settled in and around the Green Island district. The migration strategies of the family of Rose McMullan’s husband Charles Gamble were just as intricate, with several siblings following each other.21

18

Miles Fairburn, ‘Local community or atomized society? The social structure of nineteenth-century New Zealand’ in N.Z.J.H., xvi (1982), p. 149. 19 Kerby A. Miller, Emigrants and exiles: Ireland and the Irish exodus to North America (New York, 1985), p. 273. 20 There is some overlap with the previous category as nine migrants travelled with family and friends and were also joining family or friends. The connexions of seven migrants have not been traced. 21 See Richard Herbert, The Gamble family of East Taieri: a brief account of the family’s origins at Croaghmore, in Antrim, Northern Ireland, their emigration and settlement at East Taieri, in Otago, New Zealand, in the 1880’s, and of the reunion held 6–7th April 1996 (Dunedin, 1996), p. 8. For a similar strategy among Irish Catholics see Séan G. Brosnahan, The Kerrytown Brosnahans (Timaru, 1992). See also the Normile profile in David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of 170

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Apart from helping to reconstruct the migration patterns of Irish migrants to New Zealand, assessing the quality of kin and neighbourhood relations as depicted in the correspondence further demonstrates the existence of social networks. Explicit declarations of harmony among migrant kinfolk appear rarely in the correspondence, though David Bell in Duntroon, Otago, was full of praise for his ‘three Brothers to be Proud of’, all of whom were settled nearby in the district (Be 1). Bessie Macready also discussed initial impressions of her kinfolk shortly after her arrival at Lyttelton: ‘I found my Aunts well and hearty’ (Ma 1). Other sequences of letters record the continuity of relationships over time. The Colgan series, for instance, shows robust bonds among the McMullan siblings who settled in and around the East Taieri district in Otago. These persistent ties prompted Catherine Colgan, mother of the migrants, to tell her daughter Rose more than a decade after her children’s migration, ‘I am so glad you are so near Kate’ and ‘am glad that Johnnie is still with yous’ (Co 1, 3). Implicit evidence also suggests that kin bonds were positive. In their thirty-seven letters spanning the years 1860–1907 James and Hamilton McIlrath indicate that they were in frequent contact with each other in Canterbury with no signs of tension in their correspondence. Likewise, the twelve letters of Andrew, John, and Alice Gilmore, who all settled within the vicinity of Tauranga, document apparent harmony. In all these examples kin settled near each other, reinforcing the potential for ongoing harmony. The nature of the family connexion was also presumably vital, with most correspondents residing close to siblings rather than more distant kinfolk. Proximity could also generate disharmony, but it appears that migrants only conveyed explicit comments when in conflict with their kinfolk. Most readers in Ireland could assume relations were harmonious, unless they received news to the contrary. Such explicit comment about negative relationships with kinfolk was only occasionally reported. This echoes the situation in Australia where the Irish ‘seldom voiced’ disharmony among kin.22 Once again, examining such comments not only highlights the quality of migrant relationships, but also reveals the extent of kin networks in New Zealand. Ageing gumdigger Patrick Quinn, for instance, complained to his brother in Belfast that their brother William, who had also migrated to New Zealand, ‘dos not Reconise mee as a Brother’, most probably due to William’s disapproval of Patrick’s drinking habits (Qu 1). Relationships between cousins could also be fraught. Wellington hotelkeeper Samuel Gilmer was particularly critical of his allegedly truculent cousin Abigail whom he had employed: ‘I seen at once it was no good that her intention was to do as little as possible. . . . Well I kept her for twelve months and paid her regular every month but no thanks nor no

consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995), especially p. 53, for similar strategies among Irish migrants in Australia. 22 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 596. 171

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improvement in the girl only dying with laziness’ (Gr 1). Evidently, Abigail felt the same way, for, as William Gilmer revealed indignantly from Monaghan, Abigail ‘gave Sam & Mary an awful name also Henry & wife’ (Gr 1, 2). Tension also existed between Edward Lysaght and other Lysaghts in Auckland, though this was seemingly due to a misunderstanding rather than overt conflict. As William Lysaght commiserated with his brother in 1870, five years after Patrick Lysaght had voyaged to New Zealand with other Lysaght family members, ‘there must be some mistake between yourself and Patsy Lysaght if he reacted as you said’ (Ly 4). James McIlrath, on the other hand, considered that his cousin Robert McIlrath ‘has his own way so I believe he would do a thing sooner by letting him alone than coaxing’ (Il 13). A chorus of disapproval levied against Irish neighbours in the colony was just as rare. By contrast, Irish correspondents in Australia were more likely to criticise their acquaintances than their kinfolk.23 When such comments did appear in letters sent from New Zealand, they did so in the most sensational form – murder. In 1869, goldminer Pat Kirk was killed, with fellow Irishmen on the West Coast among the perpetrators. The deceased man’s mother, Bridget Kirk, disturbingly revealed that the Kirk family ‘got am account on the argus about the 5 of feb[r]uary about this occurence and the called him Peter Kirk but you must think we got a fright by it’ (Fl 11). The Drogheda Argus newspaper noted that Kirk was killed during a free fight in the street at Charleston . . . . It is supposed that he was killed by a blow on the head from a stone thrown at random. One man was seen in the crowd hitting right and left with stones in his fist. He was not arrested, but two of the ringleaders named O’Brien and McLoughlin have been.24

Reports in the colonial press indicate that a savage brawl had erupted between O’Brien and an Englishman named Cullen. Following Cullen’s escape, ‘One man was most conspicuous in the crowd carrying a large stone in each hand, striking at everything, and everybody at random.’ Kirk, allegedly ‘a stalwart but very quiet man’,25 was killed in the commotion. Following an inquest, Henry Michael O’Brien, Patrick O’Sullivan, and John McLoughlin were committed for trial at Nelson and friends of the accused established a fund for their defence.26 At the trial, William Cullen claimed that ‘O’Brien came up and accused me of having insulted him, and then struck me.’ During the frenzied affray that followed, Kirk was knocked down and witnesses testified that McLoughlin and another man had kicked him. The medical practitioner

23

Ibid., p. 597. The Drogheda Argus and Leinster Journal, 5 February 1870, p. 8. Patrick was incorrectly named as Peter Kirk. 25 New Zealand Herald, 29 November 1869, p. 3. 26 Ibid., 11 December 1869, p. 5. 24

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reinforced this verdict. He reckoned that Kirk was knocked down by a blow to the eye and then ‘received the fatal blow on the top of his head’. Death was ‘almost instantaneous’.27 Found guilty of manslaughter, McLoughlin was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment with hard labour. O’Brien and O’Sullivan were found not guilty.28 The murder committed by John Smyth in November that same year followed a very different course. Formerly a policeman in Killinchy, County Down, and in Christchurch, Smyth was the proprietor of the Railway Hotel at Lyttelton. It was here that Smyth’s wife died after being bound and brutally beaten by her husband. The marriage had been a turbulent one. Evidence at the trial noted that Smyth, often under the influence of drink, had previously tied and battered his wife. Writing to his County Down contacts about the event, James McIlrath reported that Smyth ‘was sentenced to Death for the Murder of his Wife but his sentence was changed to penal servitude for life’ (Il 16).29 Miles Fairburn has argued that violence in colonial New Zealand emerged, inter alia, from a ‘deficient framework of association’.30 Yet there is evidence that networks were in operation for the perpetrators of these two murders. As a Lyttelton hotelkeeper, John Smyth would have been surrounded by a range of individuals, while before the trial of those arrested for Kirk’s murder, ‘About two hundred people assembled . . . [and] the prisoners had a busy time of it listening to the expressions of good will and shaking hands with sympathising friends.’31 Although there is not enough evidence for us to be able to verify to what extent these acquaintances formed vibrant social networks, these two case studies raise serious questions about the accuracy of Fairburn’s interpretation. Rather than assume from statistical data that interpersonal conflict arose from weak connexions, we need to scrupulously investigate each case fully, as David Madle and Dean Wilson have respectively undertaken in relation to deaths in New Zealand and community violence in mid nineteenth-century Auckland.32 Their analyses suggest that intimate relations rather than atomisation led to disagreement. Scrutiny of personal

27

See Nelson Evening Mail, 2 December 1869. Ibid., 3 December 1869. 29 The coroner concluded that death was by ‘suffocation, accelerated by the injuries evident about the head’. Details of the inquest are contained in the Lyttelton Times, 12 November 1869, while details of Smyth’s trial can be found in the Press, 4 December 1869, pp 2–3, and 6 December 1869, pp 2–3. 30 Fairburn, The ideal society, p. 12. 31 New Zealand Herald, 11 December 1869, p. 5. 32 David Victor Madle, ‘Patterns of death by accident, suicide, and homicide in New Zealand, 1860–1960: interpretation and comparisons’, Ph.D. thesis, Victoria University Wellington, 1996; Dean Wilson, ‘Community violence in Auckland, 1850–75’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1993. See also Wilson’s ‘Community and gender in Victorian Auckland’ in N.Z.J.H., xxx (1996), pp 24–42. 28

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letters sent from Ireland also highlights extensive discord within Irish families living in close proximity, as the next chapter reveals. This finding also suggests an alternative hypothesis: that interpersonal conflict was part of the ‘cultural baggage’ (or character and behavioural traits transported abroad) of Irish migrants in New Zealand. Apart from the incidents described above, the letters are silent on other disputes between Irish neighbours in the colony. As with Irish correspondents in Australia, however, Irish letter writers in New Zealand were far more expressive concerning their harmonious relations with neighbours in the colony. Perhaps such comment was made in order to reassure home readers that the confrontational nature of many interactions in Ireland was not replicated in the colony. Affiliations based on parish networks in Ireland proved particularly resilient, with many letters providing extensive evidence of these connexions. The Flanagans met several acquaintances on the West Coast and Thames goldfields. Hamilton McIlrath, meanwhile, cheerfully discussed the many Killinchy compatriots encountered during the brothers’ goldmining venture in the early 1860s: We saw almost all the boys from Killinchy. We wrought close by David osborne and Natheniel Heron’s three sons on the Digings. William Gebby he was there too. We heard him Lectureing one sunday evening. We saw Thomas Logan In Christchurch. He was well and Mary ann I saw her. She is married to Johny Skilling. (Il 5)

Even solitary mining males such as Oliver McSparron, Hugh Rea, and David McCullough moved within Irish networks, possibly for employment opportunities as well as companionship. As David McCullough, a native of Moneyreagh, County Down, mentioned from Dunedin in 1875, ‘Wm. J. Hobson is arrived. When I heard that the ship was in I left my work and went down to port and met him’ (Cu 4). More than twenty years later David reported from Cascade Creek, ‘There are a good many County Down people here’ (Cu 5). Hugh Rea was able to inform his readers in 1905, more than thirty years after his migration, ‘William McGoogan convays his best wishes to each and all of you’ (Re 1). That same year William Quinn informed his gumdigging brother Patrick, ‘I seen Sunney boy and paddy monnahon in Town. They were asking about you’ (Qu 2). The extent of such connexions, based on home ties, was especially evident when Edward Lysaght returned to Limerick for a brief visit in 1872. Writing to Auckland, he was able to advise his many Limerick-born colonial-based companions of their kinfolk whom he had met on his travels: Tell Mrs ONeill that I have not seen her sister yet but will in a few days. Tell Bridget ONeill that I I have seen her father and mother. They are well. Tell Mrs Reed that I have been talking to her father mother and brother. They are well. Give my best love to Mrs Bartley and Pat Lysaght. I have been talking to his mother. (Ly 6) 174

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Such messages highlight the extent and resilience of county connexions over time. Other migrants were less fortunate in encountering compatriots from their home county and were therefore thrilled when they learned of the presence of neighbours in the colony. Patrick Treanor, for instance, could not contain his excitement upon learning that a Monaghan acquaintance was in New Zealand in 1876: ‘I never had the pleasure of meeting one from the county of Monaghan since I left it. Was I not delited when I herd that you were at the thames’ (Tr 2). Letters from Ireland also reveal the importance of these expatriate neighbourly networks for Irish migrant women. Writing to his sister Margaret Kilpatrick in 1880, George Reid rejoiced from Armagh that Margaret sees ‘Mrs Birch sometimes and are attached to her’ (Ki 8). Female companionship also proved crucial for Rose McMullan whose mother Catherine Colgan wrote to ‘send my love to Mrs Hodge. . . . I am so thankfull to her. She is so kind to you all’ (Co 3). Letter writers mentioned meeting acquaintances from home in order to reassure recipients in Ireland that the colony was civil and familiar. ‘Do not suppose for a moment that we are in a wild uncivilised place’, James McIlrath reassured his family in 1872, a decade after settling in Canterbury. No. Only for the look of the Contry when we go to a cattle show or any other gathering one almost forgets but that he is in Ireland. I was at one on Thursday last and there was any amount of people we all know such as WJ Alexander Cousin Robert W Cooper W Ledgerwood Lemons Brot[hers] D Moorhead M Moorhead J Hewett W Gebbie D McClure and Family from old Robert clarks T Tompson Drumreagh beside many others. I need not mention all seening in good health and spirits. By the way I forgot William Adams David Adams. (Il 17)

Given that more than half of Canterbury’s assisted Irish immigrants between 1855 and 1876 were from Ulster, with County Down providing 13.5 per cent,33 it was not surprising that James and Hamilton McIlrath frequently encountered familiar faces from their home neighbourhood. Some faces were more recognisable than others, as Hamilton intimated: ‘Cuosin Robt is liveing close by us. He is farming on his own hook and getting on very well. There is a great many from home round here’ (Il 12). Despite the concentration of male connexions from Killinchy residents in Canterbury, the lack of women was keenly felt. ‘You would be surprised to find how many of the Killinchy people was there’, James noted after attending Leeston’s inaugural horse-racing event in 1866. ‘Sometimes I forget where we were. The only thing that is the great difference is the want of Ladies. The are very scarce but increacing fast’ (Il 10).

33 Calculated from Tables 7 and 8 in R. H. Silcock, ‘Immigration into Canterbury under the provincial government’, M.A. thesis, University of Canterbury, 1964, p. 191.

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Three years after this observation, 31-year-old James McIlrath became ‘tired living on a Farm by myself’ and married 28-year-old ‘Agness Mathews from near Comber. James Anderson publican of Comber is her uncle’ (Il 15). Despite the casual tone of his remark, a comment James made three years earlier suggests that marriage was an undertaking that required careful consideration: ‘I am headstrong enough but to do what cannot be undone again I confess I am too much of the coward. I might try the old Scotch system and take one twelve months on trial and if she did not please have the liberty of annother choise and give her leave to be off’ (Il 10). James’s 33-year-old brother Hamilton, meanwhile, married 22-year-old Eliza Jane Atkinson. Rather than outline his spouse’s background, Hamilton reported that his bride ‘is going to write Mother a few lines and give you her whole pedigree’ (Il 20). Unlike the women migrants in this study, whose median age for marriage was 22, the median age for Irish men was 31.34 A similar marriage age for Irish men is evident from North American evidence, though Irish women in North America married at a slightly older age.35 That Irish men outnumbered Irish women in New Zealand must have enhanced Irish women’s chances to find an Irish match. Moreover, the strength and endurance of expatriate kin and neighbourhood networks in the colony also facilitated marriage opportunities for Irish women, with many letters attesting to the frequency of Irish matches.36 Catherine Sullivan therefore announced eagerly from Foxton to her brother-in-law at Ballingarry that her Irish-born daughters ‘Maggie and Bridge married two brothers named Spelman. They are Irishmen. Katie is married to an Irishman from Limerick’ (Su 1). The Manawatu province only had 296 Irish natives out of a total population of 4,850 in 1878, so the ability of the Sullivan daughters to find an Irish-born spouse is perhaps indicative of an established ethnic network. That Foxton contained 89 Catholics out of a population of 200 in 1887 certainly enhanced their chances.37 The marriage of another daughter, Annie, to a Protestant, on the other hand, was explained in terms of his financial attributes, perhaps to

34

The Irish migrants in this study married between one and nineteen years after arrival, with a median of three and a half years. They were aged between 20 and 40, with 29 being the overall median for male and female marriages combined. 35 Irish women in urban environments had a median age of 27.2 and 24.2 in rural vicinities. Irish men, by contrast, had a median age of 30.5 in urban areas and 30.0 in rural districts. See Mark C. Foley and Timothy W. Guinnane, ‘Did Irish marriage patterns survive the emigrant voyage? Irish-American nuptiality, 1880–1920’ in Irish Economic and Social History, xxvi (1999), p. 31. 36 Other studies also suggest an Irish preference for endogamous matches. In a sample of 296 Irish Catholic marriages in Christchurch between 1860 and 1889 Fraser found that 96.6 per cent of Irish men and 71.7 per cent of Irish women married Irish-born partners. See Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead, Table 2.1, p. 57. 37 Archbishop Redwood, ‘Sketch of work of Catholic Church in Wellington diocese 1887’, cited in Edward C. Murphy, St. Mary’s church Foxton, 1881–1981 (Foxton, 1982), p. 4. 176

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compensate for his non-Catholicism. Catherine Sullivan considered him ‘a good a husband as ever woman got’, due in part, possibly, to his recent inheritance of £1,100 (Su 1).38 An even ratio of Irish men and Irish women in Tauranga in 1878 must have made Irish unions there particularly common. Presumably Alice Gilmore’s parents were delighted to receive the following account of her marriage from their son Andrew: Alice has shifted from us and left John and I to cook for ourselves. She prefers the Company of a strange man. She got married in January last to a Mr James Fenton. He is a carrier. He came here from Sydney New South Wales, Australia about 5 years ago. Him and I have been intimate friends since we knew one another. He left County Antrim about the year 1859 near Randalstown – only a boy then. He holds an ordinary position. He has 8 draught horses, 2 saddle horses, keeps 5 horse waggons and three horse drays on the road. Has a store and butcher shop 45 miles up Country – small block. (Ge 8)

Details of a spouse’s lineage were vital to home correspondents, who possessed no knowledge of the spouse’s background. Consequently, elucidation was both expected and sought, as is revealed by Kate Keane’s letter from Waterford in 1886, following her sister Bridget’s marriage to Michael Harty: ‘I hope you’ll give us all particulars about her & where her husband is from for there are many heartys around here. We would like to know where he is from’ (Ke 3). Michael Harty, who had arrived in New Zealand as a young boy with his family in the 1860s, was Kerry- rather than Waterford-born, but his Irishness must have met with approval among Bridget’s family. By the early twentieth century correspondents were stressing the advantage of marriage for their professional prospects. After announcing his marriage from Auckland in 1904, medical doctor Alexander McKelvey informed his father, ‘Do’nt bother too much about getting Lord Ranfurly’s interest as I believe I will manage all right & I think I will have a better chance of promotion now that I am married’ (Ky 1). Alexander then set out his wife’s genealogical credentials for the benefit of home readers, an account that reinforced her status. Her father was born at Ballymena, while ‘Her uncle Wm Mills belongs to Messrs Harper & Mills Solicitors of Belfast. A cousin of hers named Forsyth is Rector of a Parish near Belfast & his two brothers are Doctors’ (Ky 1). The character of an Irish migrant’s spouse was also important and in discussing this feature Irish correspondents give insight into the quality of their marital unions. As with Irish–Australian letters, most reports featured happy

38

Roderick Milne, P.P. of Otaki, kindly informed me that Annie’s husband was called Watsen Hansen. 177

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couples.39 Six of the thirty-six migrants featured in this study married prior to their migration. The Dwyers, Sullivans, and Dawsons had been married more than fifteen years before departing Ireland, while Margaret Kilpatrick had been married a year and a half. James O’Neill and James McClure, on the other hand, married just days before their departures. As 35-year-old James McClure announced from London to his sisters in Belfast, I think it as well to take a wife with me. Her name is Emily Humphreys the orphan Daughter of a Solicitor. She is in her Tuenty fifth year so not too young. Gordon thinks her very pretty, which she is, and that she will be a very suitable wife for me. She has good sound sense & no capers. I wish you could have seen her before we left for I am sure you would have liked her. She is not unlike poor Mary Moreland only her hair is brown. She is about the size of our Emily. (Ce 1)

James McClure’s decision to marry prior to his emigration in 1860 was a strategic manoeuvre as, within a few years, his brother Gordon wrote from Southland, ‘as soon as I can I will come back for a wife, which can’t be done without in a place like this’ (Ce 4). As with twelve other male migrants studied in this book, Gordon McClure never married. James McClure, on the other hand, had clearly made a sound choice: My wife is all I could wish, but do not run away with the idea that she is a hum drum common place woman. She is a gentlewoman in every sense of the word, & respected & esteemed by all who know her. She is very handsome & only now 29. The Boys are as fond of her as if she were their mother, & not a woman but one like her of high principles would treat them like her own, as she does, after the manner in which she was treated by their foolish mother. I can tell you I feel proud of my wife for her noble conduct. (Cu 5)

James and Emily McClure had no children, so it seems that James was referring to the children of his brother William, whose troubled marriage was candidly assessed by James: ‘He is a rol[l]ing stone, but his wife has much to blame for what has happened to him. She made the poor fellow miserable, & he had not strength of Character to keep his own. They were a most unhappy pair’ (Ce 5). Most correspondents, however, reported warmly on their marital endeavours, some going so far as to offer marital advice. Twenty-nine-old Ellen Piezzi (originally Walsh from County Kilkenny) wrote to her sister-in-law in California in 1878 about the latter’s recent marriage:

39

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 593. 178

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I hope you are Content With the Chice that you made for life. If Mr Piezzi be as good a husband too you as his brother Was too me you Wont be sorey for the [word illegible] you made for lifee. He Was a god [word illegible] husband to me and respected his Wife in all his duties to her and his Litlones [little ones] and kind to them and to his Wifee.

Ellen further added: I take the liberty [word illegible] fue words to you. Love yor husband as you love yor one flesh. Respect him tentimes beter than yorself. Obey him in [?every] thing he tell you to doo No mater What he tell you too doo it for he Nose best What is the bes to bdone and he Never Will tell yto doo rong. Be kind to him and regoice At his fut step coming home to you for it sweet voice is Like [?a] bell too yor Ere. Keep in yor one house and good distand with yor Naberes and dont Let them No any thing About yor husband or yor one bisnes. Never tell any thing about him to any one. Keep yor one sakret [sacred] and you Will be come good Wife. (Pi 1)

A year later Ellen issued further instructions: ‘Love oner and obe and you Will Makee good Wife’ (Pi 3). That Ellen Piezzi’s husband had died suddenly four years after their marriage and less than five years before her comments may have influenced Ellen’s impressions as favourable. Certainly Carlow-born Annie Dempsey’s fond recollection of her husband was heightened following his premature death four years after their marriage. As 39-year-old Annie wrote reverently just days after her husband’s death in 1891, ‘there never was a better nor a kinder Husband not onely since I was married to him but since first I seen his face’ (De 8). The most revealing letters concerning male–female relationships, however, were the lengthy meditations that Philip Carroll dispatched from Tipperary to his wife in 1925 and the letters he sent her during their courtship in Auckland. Though Nina initially professed to share Philip’s feelings, she later recanted. A dejected Philip, signing his letter ‘Your brokenhearted Phil’, criticised her actions: ‘Did you want to lead me on to a certain point and then drop me and break me and so make my life miserable. If so, you succeeded only too well.’40 Despite this setback, the relationship resumed, though in May 1919 Philip expressed concern ‘that people told you they wondered how you could marry me as I was so thin and delicate’. He refused, however, to take such comments ‘lying down’ and was ‘absolutely sick and tired of others interfering in my affairs’.41 Philip reported, ‘I am an admirer of brown eyes as you say, but brown eyes alone are soon got tired of. There is something else, which I cannot describe, required to produce real love. For the life of me I cannot

40 Philip Carroll to Nina Ryan, 8 September 1918. These ‘love letters’ were kindly provided by Br Philip Carroll. 41 Philip Carroll to Nina Ryan, 29 May 1919.

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tell you what it is but I can tell you that so far as I am concerned you possess it.’42 On 16 December 1919 at St Patrick’s Cathedral, Auckland, 29-year-old Philip Carroll married 23-year-old Nina Ryan. During his voyage to Ireland, undertaken for health reasons, Philip teased his wife Nina with discussion of the attentions he had received from female acquaintances. The assistance provided to him by one of these during his voyage back to Ireland he discounted with the comment, ‘She is over 40 is not good looking so it is quite safe. Oh lord ay! You understand dearest? She told me I reminded her forcibly of a brother of hers who died and it was on that account she took such an interest in me’ (Cl 4). Following a visit to Ballycahill, Philip confided that he had met an old ‘flame’ of mine. Josie Smee. She told me she heard three years ago that I had died out in New Zealand and had said prayers for the repose of my soul. Imagine her surprise then when someone told her I was in Ballycahill. She had to come out to make sure it was right. She is still unmarried waiting until I am a widower. Oh lord ay! (Cl 18)

Despite such jests, Philip Carroll’s letters divulge the loving relationship between himself and Nina. His affection shines through in such comments as, ‘The fact of Mr & Mrs Wilson being a honeymoon couple is quite interesting. Do they do much spooning? Do you ever feel jealous dearest? Wait on you and I will have a honeymoon next Xmas. . . . Yes Mother I do miss your good night kiss. Never mind we will soon make up for lost time’ (Cl 9). Possibly, Philip was hinting at intimate marital relations when remarking on the impending marriage of a family friend: ‘I suppose Mag Prendergast is quite excited over her approaching marriage. You will have a good idea of how she must be feeling. If Mag were a different kind of a girl you could have a confidential chat with her and give her a lot of useful information’ (Cl 18). He also queried, ‘How did Tom look after he arrived back from his honeymoon? Washed out I suppose’ (Cl 13). Though Philip Carroll’s more intimate reflections are due to the fact that he was corresponding with his wife, his letters were also composed during a later time period. The survival of Philip’s letters sent from Ireland – along with the love letters sent to his wife during their courting phase – were also deliberately maintained as the result of his early death. Had his life been prolonged the letters may well have been consigned to the embers. Edward Lysaght also wrote to his wife, but his comments in 1872 were less forthcoming with such intimacies. He did, however, declare his ‘Love for you as ever’ (Ly 6). These enlightening examples of marriage and marital relations provide an alternative image to Erik Olssen’s generalised depiction of married men in colonial New Zealand as individuals who were frequently drunk, violent,

42

Philip Carroll to Nina Ryan, November 1919. 180

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or deserters. As Olssen argued, in two essays published twenty-one years apart, ‘for most wives in colonial society the threat of personal assault was real’ and ‘many husbands proved irresponsible and wayward’.43 Porter and Macdonald also contend that ‘for many women [husbands] were absent, ill, improvident, non-providers, inconveniently mortal, unfaithful, alcoholic, in trouble and needing comfort, present and claiming marital rights’.44 This focus on ‘Death, desertion and long periods of separation’ features in Macdonald’s study of single women migrants in Canterbury.45 Irish–New Zealand correspondence, on the other hand, portrays marriage as largely harmonious with married Irish men proving to be responsible, capable, and caring. Though it could be argued that Irish correspondents would be reluctant to discuss troubled marriages, it is more likely that such discrepancies between various studies exist owing to the nature of the evidence consulted by other historians. Porter and Macdonald draw upon court records as well as personal letters and focus on separation, troubled marriages, and women living without their husband. They also consider that ‘The demeanour and feelings of a wife towards a husband were generally of a different order from those of a husband towards a wife’.46 This idea that men’s feelings were ‘of a different order’ is derived from the impressions written down by women of their husbands. But in excluding accounts from men how can we be sure that male feelings differed?47 The literature analysing the quality of the relationship between parents and children is thin, though Claire Toynbee’s study of families in the early twentieth century is an honourable exception. It is unclear, however, whether the parents in her study were migrants or New Zealand-born. Nonetheless, in examining relationships between the generations she notes, ‘Most remarkable was the relative absence of overt conflict.’48 The comparative dearth of such conflict among families in this study is also remarkable, given the evidence of discord between migrants and their parents in Ireland. Indeed, there is only one instance in which a colonial child’s troubled relationship with parents

43 Erik Olssen and Andrée Lévesque, ‘Towards a history of the European family in New Zealand’ in Peggy Koopman-Boyden (ed.), Families in New Zealand society (Wellington, 1978), p. 3; Erik Olssen, ‘Families and the gendering of European New Zealand in the colonial period, 1840–80’ in Caroline Daley and Deborah Montgomerie (eds), The gendered kiwi (Auckland, 1999), p. 47. 44 Porter and Macdonald, ‘My hand will write’, p. 20. 45 Charlotte Macdonald, A woman of good character: single women as immigrant settlers in nineteenth-century New Zealand (Wellington, 1990), p. 151. 46 Porter and Macdonald, ‘My hand will write’, p. 256. 47 Notable exceptions are Raewyn Dalziel, ‘“Making us one”: courtship and marriage in colonial New Zealand’ in The Turnbull Record, (1986), pp 7–26, which looks at the courtship and marriage of Donald McLean and Susan Strang; and Margot Fry, Tom’s letters: the private world of Thomas King, Victorian gentleman (Wellington, 2001). 48 Claire Toynbee, Her work and his: family, kin, and community in New Zealand, 1900–1930 (Wellington, 1995), p. 171.

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is evident and that appears in a source external to the letters. When Mary Anne Lysaght applied for relief from the Auckland Hospital and Charitable Aid Board in 1891 she was asked to list her mother’s occupation. In response, Mary Anne labelled her mother Maria a ‘Drunken old Prostitute’.49 Other evidence shows that children gave solid emotional and practical support to their parents. Ellen Piezzi, for instance, told of her son’s attempts to comfort her with his words, ‘say dont crie mama dident god take my papa frome us. Such a dear littel boy he is’ (Pi 3). Annie Dempsey’s children likewise proved indispensable following the death of Annie’s husband: ‘The children is great company for me and little Frances is the very Pictur of the Father. Mary Ann is Growen very big is abel to do Plenty of little turns for me’ (De 8). Indeed, the letters provide extensive testimony as to a child’s assistance in the household, with no evidence that correspondents considered their offspring ‘encumbrances’.50 The ageing farmer’s wife Catherine Colgan commented from Antrim about her colonial granddaughter in 1901, ‘Maggie is a big girl of 10 years. She looks well. I am so glad she is able to help you with the work’ (Co 7). Two years later Margaret Kilpatrick described her adult daughter Mary as ‘a fine woman & a true helpmeet’ (Ki 13). The surviving letters of migrants’ children also document the assistance they provided the household. Fifteen-year-old Lizzie Gilmore, John Gilmore’s daughter, revealed to her cousins from Tauranga in 1903, ‘I have just left school and I am helping at home in the shop with my sister. My sister Mary keeps all the books for father’ (Ge 13). Much of the evidence suggests that the warmest parent–child bonds existed between Irish mothers and their children. But there is also evidence of strong bonds between fathers and children, with both John Armstrong and Alexander McKelvey acquainting home readers of their responsibilities towards their children. As John Armstrong deliberated in 1865 from Taranaki, We often think how badly children would fare if nature had not implanted a pretty large amount of affection in the hearts of their parents towards them for it must be confessed that they are at times very troublesome and require a great deal of patience. Nature has not deviated from her course in the present case. (Ar 3)

How much greater were the tribulations of raising children in an environment where grandparents were generally absent?51 Perhaps it is one explanation for the amount of assistance provided by fathers such as Alexander McKelvey

49

Auckland Hospital and Charitable Aid Board Applications for Relief, 7 December 1891, YCAB A493/65, p. 804, in N.A.A. 50 Porter and Macdonald, ‘My hand will write’, p. 9. 51 Miles Fairburn has also indicated the dearth of elderly kinfolk in New Zealand. See The ideal society, p. 166. 182

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who in 1907 revealed, ‘Baby Muriel is doing very well. She talks away at a great rate & orders us all about. She never gives me a minutes rest when I am at home except when she is asleep . . . . Of course I have to look after the two children on my 1⁄2 day off if Muriel wants to go to town’ (Ky 2). Philip Carroll’s feelings towards his children, meanwhile, were amply demonstrated during his return to Tipperary. Describing daughter Eileen ‘and her determination to some of my old friends here they say they can see quite plainly from the photo that she is a determined little piece of goods’ while ‘if that son and heir of ours . . . had come to Ireland looking as he did in that photo we would never have brought him back again’ (Cl 13). He also looked forward to ‘returning to my darling wife and kiddies from whom I seem to have been separated for years’ (Cl 15). Extracts from the correspondence, spanning several decades, give a different spin to the prevailing ideology in which the mother was the source of emotional comfort for children. They also provide quite a different portrait to the prevailing image of the Victorian father. Fathers cared for their children during times when their wives were ill. Mary Jane Hughes, for instance, on learning of her daughter-in-law’s operation, indicated that her son, Thomas, must have found it difficult ‘to manage the housekeeping and looking after children together with your other duties’ (Hu 15). Catholic fathers also expressed affection towards their children. Writing to New Zealand from Limerick in 1872, Edward Lysaght requested his wife to ‘Give too [two] kisses to each of the children for me. Be very careful of them’ (Ly 6). Hitherto, the principal thrust of the analysis has been to stress the importance of informal networks of association. Some Irish migrants also found companionship in the country’s various lodges and friendly societies. The two most identifiably Irish fraternal organisations in New Zealand were the Hibernians and the Orange Order. Historians of both organisations have largely stressed their fraternal and charitable character,52 but no correspondent mentioned these associations. This is not altogether surprising, given their small membership numbers. In 1908, for instance, the Orange Order recorded 3,048 members, while a year later there were 2,500 Hibernians. Among the migrants studied in this book only Michael Flanagan has been identified as an Hibernian, possibly because he was working as a goldminer and most branches

52

For a discussion of Orangeism and Hibernianism in New Zealand see Chapter 3 in Richard P. Davis, Irish issues in New Zealand politics, 1868–1922 (Dunedin, 1974); Patrick J. Coleman, ‘Transplanted Irish institutions: Orangeism and Hibernianism in New Zealand, 1877–1910’, M.A. thesis, University of Canterbury, 1993; Rory Sweetman, Faith and fraternalism: a history of the Hibernian society in New Zealand, 1869–2000 (Wellington, 2002); Rory Sweetman, ‘“The importance of being Irish”: Hibernianism in New Zealand, 1869–1969’ in Fraser (ed.), A distant shore, pp 135–54; T. A. Moyes, ‘The sash their fathers wore: a history of Orangeism in the North Island of New Zealand, 1868–1900’, M.A. Research Essay, University of Auckland, 1994. 183

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of the Hibernians were established in goldmining towns.53 No evidence shows Irish Protestants in this study to be members of the Orange Order. There is, however, confirmation of affiliations to the Masonic Lodge among Irish Protestant letter writers. Both Andrew and John Gilmore had joined the ‘Star of Ards’ lodge at Greyabbey, County Down, in 1870 while their brother Robert became affiliated in 1874.54 The brothers continued their membership of ‘the secret bands of fellowship by whom we are so closely united’ (Ge 4) after arrival in New Zealand. Andrew was a founding member of Tauranga Lodge 462, while John affiliated himself in 1884.55 Established in 1876, the Tauranga lodge, unlike many New Zealand lodges, contained ‘a good proportion of Irish Freemasons recently arrived from their Motherland’.56 Many of these settlers were from County Tyrone and had voyaged to the colony as part of a settlement scheme organised by George Vesey Stewart.57 As Andrew indicated in 1881, George Vesey Stewart ‘Belongs to the same Lodge as I do Here’ (Ge 12). In 1878 Andrew received a request from Robert for assistance towards the Masonic Lodge at Greyabbey but Andrew’s extensive reply indicated that colonial rather than home matters took precedence: ‘As regards the Masonic Lodge I wish it all prosperity but I must decline to be a subscriber as ther are so many calls at present that it is taking us all out time to meet them. I am a member of a Lodge here and we are on the same persuit at present and the Hall will cost about £700’ (Ge 8). Whether or not John Gilmore was asked to assist is unknown. He did, however, maintain his Masonic connexions and upon his death in 1921 members of the local Masonic Lodge attended his funeral which ‘concluded with Masonic public grand honours’.58 Church of Ireland medical doctor Alexander McKelvey was also a member of a Masonic Lodge in Ireland. He was initiated to Gortin Lodge 994 on 27 February 1902, perhaps to ensure his progress in New Zealand where he ventured later that year. His father Robert was a member of Lodge 332 Omagh before becoming a founding secretary and treasurer of Gortin Lodge 994. He was also Worshipful Master of the Lodge in 1880 and 1907.59 That

53 Flanagan’s Hibernian affiliation is mentioned in Murphy, The Flanagans of Tobertoby, p. 34. 54 I am grateful to Alex Ward, Archivist of the Grand Lodge of Ireland, for this information. 55 See Deputy Grand Secretary Correspondence Files (462B) for ‘Return of members’ from Lodge no. Tauranga 462, at Grand Lodge of Ireland, Freemasons’ Hall, Dublin. 56 W. H. V. Taine, ‘Irish Freemasonry in New Zealand’ in R. E. Parkinson (ed.), The lodge of research, no. cc, Ireland transactions for the years 1949–1957 (Dublin, 1959), p. 116. 57 Stewart (c. 1832–1920) is credited with bringing 4,000 emigrants to New Zealand in three stages: Carisbrooke Castle (1875) and the Lady Jocelyn (1878, 1881). See The dictionary of New Zealand biography (Wellington, 1993), ii, p. 481. 58 Bay of Plenty Times, 21 July 1921. 59 I am grateful for this information to Alex Ward, Archivist of the Grand Lodge of Ireland. See also A short history of Gortin masonic lodge no. 994.

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membership of a Masonic Lodge required careful consideration was highlighted by Alexander McKelvey in 1904, shortly after his arrival in the colony: ‘I have not joined any Lodge here yet. I want to make sure of the best one. Mr Wilson the Rector tells me Masonry is not so good here as at home. The fees are pretty high but the Lodges accept too many questionable characters and Masonry is used too much for pushing business’ (Ky 1). Three years later, on 22 October 1907, Alexander joined Auckland Lodge No. 87.60 He later became a master of the Auckland Lodge and a second principal of the Supreme Grand Royal Arch Chapter.61 For many Irish migrants – and non-Irish migrants – Masonic Lodges were important not just for their companionship, but also for their charitable character. Charitable acts in New Zealand society are also evident beyond a focus on lodges and friendly societies. The wills of Irish migrants, for instance, also demonstrate benevolence and provide further proof of the extent and importance of kinship and expatriate neighbourly connexions in the colony. As Lyndon Fraser stresses in his meticulous examination of the wills of Irish Catholics in Christchurch, ‘Sibling solidarity remained unshakeable . . . while at the same time the recognition of more distant kinsfolk . . . attested to the existence of more far-reaching kinship ties’.62 Personal letters, together with analysis of the wills of Irish correspondents, likewise reveals the range of obligations felt by migrants towards their colonial and Irish-based kin. Letters from Irish Catholic migrant women such as Annie Dempsey and Catherine Sullivan reveal the disposal of Irish men’s property to their wives. In 1892 Annie Dempsey reported the outcome of her husband’s death: I supose yous are anxious to know if he maid a will. He did and willed all to me and the children. He died worth about three Thousand Pounds worth of Property. He was in Partiner Ship with his Brother Nicholas whom is worth about Three thousand more. That is six between them. I had to admin[i]ster and things is not settled yet. (De 9)

Catherine Sullivan also benefited from her husband’s estate following his death in 1904. Her son Cornelius, on the other hand, left strict instructions that his estate be divided between his children and his widow, so long as she did not remarry (Su 1). This proviso was probably to ensure that his children would not lose their inheritance. James O’Neill left 100 acres of land at Whangarei to Mary Sheehan with the remainder of his estate to be divided between ‘my wife Bridget and all my

60 Information provided by S. J. Cooper, Secretary, Grand Lodge of New Zealand Freemasons. 61 Auckland Star, 12 November 1931, p. 11. 62 Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead, p. 157. See also his ‘Irish migration to the West Coast’, pp 214–17, for a discussion of the wills of Irish migrants on the West Coast.

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children by her’.63 Bridget O’Neill lived for a further twenty-five years until her death at 81 years of age on 4 October 1918. Her will, made only six weeks before, left her estate valued at just under £400 to her son James. As Bridget was ‘incapable through illness of writing her name’ she made her mark. Her bequests may have been contested, for following Bridget’s death her daughter Theresa Lanigan provided an affidavit affirming that her mother was in ‘full possession of her mental facilities . . . and that she had full knowledge of the contents’.64 Ellen Maher (née Walsh and then Piezzi), who had operated hotels on the West Coast and in Wellington, acknowledged a range of kin members in her will, including transnational connexions. Her six children were the major beneficiaries but Ellen also left funds to her brother Patrick Walsh of 44 Main Place, Dublin, as well as setting aside money for the purpose of burying her brother Phillip in the dominion.65 Hamilton and Samuel Gilmer, hotelkeepers in Wellington, also left the bulk of their estates to their children. Hamilton Gilmer, who died on 25 June 1919 and was buried at Bolton Street cemetery, left his three sons and two daughters an estate valued at just under a staggering £300,000. According to his will, Hamilton bequeathed ‘all my household furniture plate plated articles linen china books pictures statuary jewelry stores motor cars and all other articles of household domestic or personal use or ornament’ to his wife plus an annuity of £400. His daughter Dolly Ziele was to receive an annuity of £150 and his brother John in Westport was to receive 30 shillings per week. The children’s ward of Wellington Public Hospital received £100 and St Peters Anglican church an annual sum of £100 for ten years. The remainder of the estate was to be divided between his five children.66 Hamilton’s brother Samuel Gilmer, ‘one of the best known old-identities in the Dominion’, 67 died at the age of 83 on 14 January 1925 at the Royal Oak Hotel, Cuba Street, in Wellington. He was buried at Karori and left an estate valued at half that of his brother Hamilton. His clothing, adornment, watches, jewellery, and trinkets were left to his daughter with various relatives receiving other legacies.68 Unmarried men also displayed a range of obligations in their wills. William Cardwell’s will, made 21 May 1886, left his estate to his brother John. At the time of his early and tragic death from drowning, William had £163 in the

63

The Will of James O’Neill, 1418, in N.A.A., BBAE 1569. The Will of Bridget O’Neill and Affidavit of Theresa Lanigan, 12499, in N.A.A., BBAE 1569. No duty was payable on estates valued at under £500. 65 The Will of Ellen Maher, 1922/33107, in N.A.W., AAOM 6029. 66 The Will of Hamilton Gilmer, 1919/27056, in N.A.W., AAOM 6029. 67 Obituary of Samuel Gilmer in New Zealand Herald, 16 January 1925, p. 10. 68 The Will of Samuel Gilmer, 1925/P36375, in N.A.W., AAOM 6029. Samuel’s estate, valued at more than £100,000, fetched an estate duty of 20 per cent. 64

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bank, property worth £660, and a life assurance policy worth £522. 69 His creditors were owed £83 14s 2d. Hugh Rea’s will stipulated that his effects were to be divided between his brother William Rea and sister Elizabeth McCance, both of whom resided in County Down.70 In 1917, a year after her brother’s death, Elizabeth received £58 11s 5d from the Dunedin law firm, Duncan and McGregor.71 Kinship ties with those in Ireland had clearly not withered with the passing of time. William Cunningham Quinn, who died on 15 April 1916, at age 75, also acknowledged kin in Ireland in his will. He left a substantial estate valued at between £5,000 and £6,000. His original will, dated 9 December 1915, bequeathed £100 plus ‘my watches watch chains and personal clothing’ to his nephew Robert Sullivan Jenkins. The remainder of his property was to be sold with the proceeds going to John Quinn or his children at Belfast, once again demonstrating the robust links with home. In March 1916, however, a codicil was added that increased Robert’s receipt to £200 and left £25 each to the Little Sisters of the Poor and the Superioress of St Mary’s Convent. Another £25 was left to the Catholic bishop ‘for benefit of such poor orphan or destitute children attending the school established at the “Pa Farm” at Hillsborough Onehunga.’ A further £25 was to be remitted to the Rev. Fr Paul Francis Kehoe, parish priest of Cloughbawn, Clonroche, County Wexford, ‘for the purpose of saying Masses for the repose of my soul’.72 Despite the prevalence of strong harmonious ties based on networks of family and friends, this did not always ensure a successful settlement. We have already seen that Bessie Macready plunged into isolation, but there is some other brief evidence to suggest that some migrants struggled to cope in New Zealand. A central problem remains, however, as to whether such difficulties existed prior to migration from Ireland. In 1901 Catherine Colgan learned of her brother’s death and hoped ‘he is better off not in this weary world’ (Co 7). Her brother, Hector McCaughan, committed suicide by hanging himself. A decade later, Michael Farrell also pointed to despairing situations confronted by male settlers when he told brother Paddy ‘a lot of fellows go mad after coming out. One young fellow named Cody from Armagh drowned himself in Wanganui River not long ago. He was so lonely and another English fellow blew his brains out not far from here’ (Fa 1). William Cardwell’s life also came to an abrupt and dramatic end when he drowned in the Avon River on 10 April 1888 at 43 years of age. The circumstances of his death do not necessarily point to suicide, but a reading between the lines of material emanating from the inquest to his death suggests that he

69

The Will of William Cardwell, 1545/1888, in N.A.C., 171. The Will of Hugh Rea, 3712, in N.A.D., D239/166. 71 Duncan and McGregor (Dunedin) to Mrs Elizabeth McCance (Scrib), 23 May 1917, in P.R.O.N.I., D/963/3. 72 The Will of William Cunningham Quinn, 10628, in N.A.A., BBAE 1569. 70

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may have taken his own life. According to witnesses, William had been ill the week prior to his death. Having undergone ‘a painful operation’ he became ‘very despondent’. His employer had visited him and was informed by William that ‘he felt light headed and was in pain at times’. Nevertheless, ‘He seemed in good spirits.’ Living with his brother and soon to be married, William disappeared out of his bedroom window and his body was found by brother John lying in five feet of water. No marks of violence were discovered and the inquest returned a verdict of ‘found drowned’.73 Despite these isolated examples, the strong kin involvement in facilitating Irish migration to New Zealand was also vital in assisting settlement. The extent of this family involvement in migration presents a challenge to historians who have argued that mobility led to weak kinship ties. The letters also reveal the bonds that were maintained between neighbourhood connexions. Moreover, Catholic and Protestant, male and female, migrant correspondents displayed similar concern towards family and neighbourhood which spanned the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. These associations were extensive and facilitated many marriages based on Irish birth, which may account for the engaging discussion of marriage in letters sent from New Zealand. The extent of Irish kin and neighbourhood networks in New Zealand inevitably meant that relationships were not always harmonious and there are many explicit accounts of kin disharmony in New Zealand. Yet other comments reveal that kin relations in New Zealand, as with the Irish in Australia, were generally harmonious.74 Likewise, depictions of Irish neighbours in New Zealand were largely positive. In this, they mirrored the favourable nature of Irish neighbourhood relations in Australia rather than echoing their compatriots in America who complained of harsh treatment from their fellow Irish.75 Moreover, for Irish letter writers in New Zealand, the companionship provided by formal networks paled in comparison to the succour and support offered by informal expatriate ties. Though personal letters and supplementary evidence such as probates are instructive in establishing the existence and operation of kin and neighbourhood ties among Irish settlers in New Zealand, such evidence cannot conclusively refute Fairburn’s ‘atomisation’ thesis. Much more evidence, particularly statistical, is also required. Analysis of shipping registers offers one way to examine the extent of chain migration among kin and neighbours, while parish registers can supply evidence of the continuity of connexions over time. Family histories also promise illuminating insight into the migration strategies and continuity of ties among migrants. Once such sources

73

See coverage in Press (Christchurch), 11 April 1888, p. 5, and coroner’s report, J 46, 1888/276, N.A.W. 74 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 596. 75 Ibid., p. 596; Miller, Emigrants and exiles, p. 509. 188

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have been consulted and analysed in a comparative manner for all migrant groups in nineteenth-century New Zealand, we can begin the process of establishing whether Fairburn’s eschewal of ethnicity as a categorising element is appropriate. Were Irish migrants more likely than their Scottish, English, and Welsh counterparts to voyage with or to family and friends and sustain these connexions over time?76 If so, Fairburn’s claim that New Zealand society was characterised by a ‘dearth of kin’ would require revision along ethnic lines.

76 Comparatively, the literature on migrants from Britain to New Zealand is thin. Studies of the Scots abroad as well as the brief literature surrounding their migration to New Zealand, however, suggests a movement based on strong kin bonds. See Rosalind R. McClean, ‘Scottish emigrants to New Zealand, 1840–1880: motives, means and background’, Ph.D. thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1990.

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7

‘I must have you home’ Return migration, home, and relationships in Ireland In December 1869 William Lysaght wrote from his father’s farm at Knocknacarriga, County Limerick, imploring his brother Edward to return to Ireland: I am speaking against my own interest brother when I refuse to send you the money because it would be far cheaper for me to give you £150 where you are than to bring you home here. But I must have you home. Our name must not run out here. You know I am the last – the only remaining one of our family and it is with regret I say that there is no chance of my lifting a few young Lysaghts so the family will have to continue through you. (Ly 2)

Despite his claim, William was clearly contemplating marriage: ‘Women are easily to be got here brother. I could get marry with plenty of money if I wished but I must keep clear of marriaye. Anything in that line would put me out of the world in a short time. Besides if I married at all the woman Id choose has no money’ (Ly 4). In May 1871, despite his protestations, William Lysaght married a young woman without fortune. My Father knew it. Done his best to prevent me. Went so far as to make a will in your [?favour] leaving you all he had. I disregarded all and marr[ied] her. He cooled down in a little and asked myself and wife to come here to live with him just as we were going off to America. (Ly 5)

The friction documented between William Lysaght and his father Edmund also surfaced between the brothers, though in a more physical form. This sibling tension culminated in 1872 when Edward Lysaght briefly returned to Ireland, a visit primarily designed to extract funds from his father Edmund. As Edmund Lysaght wrote despondently after Edward’s brief visit, ‘I cant see what great reason you have to complain of me but I have more reason to complain of you for when you came home you gave me the greatest scandel and beat your brother in in presence of the publick’ (Ly 8). These extracts from the Lysaght letters are particularly revealing on several issues. They illuminate the reasons for enticing Edward to return to Ireland from Auckland, focusing on the word ‘home’ and the family’s lineage. They show too that Edward’s motives for returning were generated by financial considerations. The Lysaght correspondence also sheds light on aspects of 190

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social relationships in Ireland. Apart from parental and filial interaction, the letters document marriage practices in Ireland, especially the involvement of William’s father and the expectation that William’s choice of marriage partner would bring a substantial dowry. That his eventual wife failed to possess such resources provoked passionate opposition in his father. Nevertheless, William Lysaght’s resolve to flout conventional marriage procedures reveals that non-migrants were prepared to defy parental control and social constraints through the threat of emigration. This chapter explores these themes – return migration, home, and the embodiment of home in social relationships. The first part asks why migrants were encouraged home, and how? In what ways did migrant letter writers respond to these pleas to return? The second part of the chapter examines the ways in which non-migrants depicted the social atmosphere of ‘home’. In analysing these issues, it will be argued that return migration was energetically encouraged by a focus on the word ‘home’, supplemented by other strategies including marriage and inheritance. Second, in exploring the portrayal of social relationships in Ireland, which embodied ‘home’, the chapter focuses on marital, family, and neighbourly relations. Despite the repeated requests for migrants to return, and their own fervent contemplation of reverse migration, this chapter contends that the volatile character of many of these social relationships in Ireland, and their satisfaction with New Zealand, dampened migrant enthusiasm to return. During the last decade several studies have emphasised the potential for return migration among Europe’s mobile population in North America.1 Indeed, one estimate is that approximately one-quarter of nineteenth- and early twentiethcentury European migrants returned to their homelands.2 The propensity for undertaking reverse movement, however, varied from country to country. Compared with other European countries experiencing a rate of return varying from 20 to 40 per cent, Irish return migration was less common, only 10 per cent.3 As David Fitzpatrick has put it, ‘Irish emigrants tended to go far and not come back.’4 Few studies have considered the reasons for return migration to Ireland, and fewer still have considered the long-term effect of this small reverse mobility – and the relative lack of it – on the migrants or Irish society.5 This chapter attempts to address the former gap, though the influence of returned

1

See especially Mark Wyman, Round-trip to America: the immigrants return to Europe, 1880–1930 (Ithaca and London, 1993). 2 Dudley Baines, Emigration from Europe, 1815–1930 (Basingstoke, 1991), p. 39. 3 Ibid., p. 39. See also Wyman, Round-trip to America, pp 10–12. 4 David Fitzpatrick, Irish emigration, 1801–1921 (Dundalk, 1984), p. 7. 5 One exception is Arnold Schrier, Ireland and the American emigration, 1850–1900 (New York, 1958), chapter 7. 191

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migrants is evident in some letters. As James McIlrath commented on the return of his brother-in-law Robert Matthews to Ireland in 1876, ‘He will be able to tell you all about New Zealand. . . . Hoping you all may enjoy a good chat with one so nearly connected and qualified to give you a good idea of colonial life’ (Il 25). Robert Matthews, with his colonial experience, could not only provide information of reassurance to family and friends in Ireland, but presumably his reports of colonial life influenced intending migrants contemplating New Zealand as a destination. The impact of returned migrants is also visible among one of the most mobile groups of Irish migrants in New Zealand – the Catholic clergy. At Thurles in the 1880s it was reported that Rev. John Golden spoke of the advantages and disadvantages of being resident in New Zealand. The Catholics resident in New Zealand has especially many disadvantages to contend against, but the people were blessed with freedom, the complete management of their own affairs . . . . There were exceptional cases that made emigration desirable, and he knew of no country so advantageous for such as New Zealand.6

Like Robert Matthews, Golden returned to New Zealand.7 Although returned migrants could promote settlement abroad, Arnold Schrier has claimed in his study of the Irish in North America that the influence of returnees was somewhat negligible because they were few in number, largely female, and Irish rather than American.8 Letters exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand provide little insight into this matter, but reveal more of the reasons for return migration. How do they compare with the analysis Schrier has provided for returned migrants from North America? Were short visits by men undertaken to bask in the admiration of successes obtained abroad? Did permanent returns reflect a range of reasons including marriage, poor health, inability to adjust, old age, death of a parent, and inheritance factors? And did Irish women return simply for marriage?9 For most Irish correspondents in New Zealand the potential for return migration was considered at the outset of their migration. A letter sent from Canterbury by James McIlrath indicates that his initial emigration was undertaken in the belief that he would eventually return. ‘Twelve years is now past and gone since last we parted’, he reminisced nostalgically in 1872. ‘I thought to have seen you all before this but time here seems to roll on much faster than at Home’ (Il 17). This extract could be interpreted to argue that James anticipated reunion with his kinfolk in New Zealand. The following

6

New Zealand Freeman’s Journal, 28 September 1883, p. 11. John Golden was born in 1842 at Macroom, County Cork. See Clergy Papers, A.C.D.A., LUC 36–16/1. 8 Schrier, Ireland and the American emigration, pp 141–2. 9 Ibid., pp 130–2. 7

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year, however, it becomes clear that James was expected to return to Ireland, though he was wary of what reverse migration would entail: I would be far more afraid of rueing coming Home to Ireland than I was of leaving which I never once done. I doubt a good many I wont say all that goes Home would wish to be back again but if I thought I could do any thing well at Home I might come before many years. I know the time[erased: s] is past I said I would and meant it too but what did I then know. (Il 18)

James McIlrath was not alone in contemplating return to Ireland. In 1868 his brother Hamilton announced his intention to remain in the colony for a further three years and ‘if i dont alter my mind before then I intend if I am well and keep clear of the weman to go home and see how you are all getting on for I think I might stop Here a very long time before any of you would come to see me’ (Il 14). Non-migrants also expressed an anticipation of reunion with their migrant kinfolk. At the outset of his cousin Daniel’s migration in 1883 John Strong held fast to the possibility of reunion: When you receive a letter from me again thousands of miles of oceon shall roll between us and you will be in a strange land making new friends and perhaps forgetting the old ones, or only remembering them sometimes when some stray thought shall wander back to them and the land of your birth. But Dan you will never be forgotten by me and I feel certain that we shall meet again. (St 2)

That this so-called ‘myth of return’ was feasible is evident in the several examples of temporary and permanent reverse migration, ranging from weeks to years, undertaken by Irish correspondents and their associates in New Zealand. The earliest return to Ireland of a New Zealand-based correspondent occurred in 1847, by Londonderry native Ann McCleland, seven years after migrating to New Zealand. Her return to Ireland, however, was in stages, for she travelled to Chile with her husband Johann Heldt where he spent a period of time goldmining. In 1847, equipped with a character reference from the local chaplain, the Heldts paid ‘Eight Ounces & three quartis of Gold’ to travel from Chile to Ireland via Liverpool.10 Twelve years after arriving in Ireland the family were back in New Zealand. Edward Lysaght made only a brief visit to Ireland. After ten years in New Zealand his objective was to obtain funds from his father in Limerick, a feat he accomplished within weeks. Hamilton Gilmer’s return visit was just as fleeting. He went back to Monaghan in 1871, ten years after his initial departure, to claim a wife. A similar period of time passed before twentieth-century migrant Philip Carroll returned to Ireland for health reasons. He stayed five months before also returning to New Zealand.

10

The chaplain’s reference and passage payment are in P.R.O.N.I., T/3034/6 and 8. 193

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Other reports from the twentieth century further highlight the temporary aspect of return migration to Ireland. Robert Hughes told his son of an acquaintance based in North America ‘who came 14.000 miles on a holiday to fish & fowl’ (Hu 7). Philip Carroll meanwhile, told his wife about a woman who ‘is going back to America next month to lay her bones with her children. She is up to 80 years of age and only returned to Ireland last year’ (Cl 10). Apart from his own temporary visit, Philip also reported on the brief return visits being made by his fellow cabin passengers. A fellow Irishman was ‘going home on business’ to Dublin to obtain compensation for his business which was ‘blown to atoms during the troubles there’. A Scotsman, meanwhile, was ‘going back to have a look at Ould Scotland before he dies’, while a Londoner was on his third visit home (Cl 3). Occasionally, the letters mention the return of migrants from other destinations. In 1846 Hanora Dwyer (herself from Dromkeen in County Limerick) revealed that ‘Johnny OBrien came down from new orleans . . . . He came in great splendour’ (Dw 1). Hanora’s comment on O’Brien’s return highlights the visual impact of the ‘returned Yank’, who was typically well dressed, self-confident, opinionated, and industrious, upon Irish society.11 Only one correspondent in this study is known to have returned permanently to Ireland. Michael Flanagan, after a period mining for gold on the West Coast, first travelled to the United States. In 1890, following almost twenty years in California, he acquiesced to his father’s wishes that he return to County Louth to take over management of the family farm. The summons was precipitated by the death of Michael’s two brothers. An acquaintance of Michael’s also returned permanently. As a friend of both men reported in 1890, he had a good Farm on Totara Flat and sold it a short time ago for over two thousand pounds. He has gone with his family to Ireland where he intends settling down. Tom Clinton left here for Ireland about fifteen years ago. He made about eight hundred pounds in a mining speculation here and like a wise man went home. He married a widow at home shortly afterwards who had a little fortune of her own. (Fl 17)

That both men had sufficient funds after their colonial careers inevitably swayed their return. If success abroad prompted some migrants to return to Ireland, so too did failure or disappointment. As John Armstrong queried in 1859: ‘Could Richard not find employment in Australia that he made such a short stay there or has he a prospect of obtaining it at home’ (Ar 1). James McIlrath considered that contemplation of return migration only occurred with downturns in colonial life:

11

Schrier, Ireland and the American emigration, pp 133–4. 194

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We are all here like so many on the Cockle Beds. You seldom ever saw any one leaving satisfied before the tide came and swept all before it so it is here. Few if any cares for leaving while the oppertunity offers of doing well but let the tide turn and I will not say all but a great many [erased: turn] will turn theirr thoughts for Home. (Il 17)

Another migrant informed James ‘that he was going Home by the same ship. Poor fellow he will know much about the contry I should think’ (Il 10). That this acquaintance was discouraged with the colony is evident in James’s next letter when he writes, ‘Let Mr Frew say what he may. There is worse places than New Zealand’ (Il 13). Perhaps the colony’s harshest critic was David Bell. After castigating the colony he informed his kin at Kells, County Antrim, in 1886 that ‘you need not be surprised if you see me home in about this time next year’ (Be 1). Although David did leave the colony, he settled in America. The following century Philip Carroll supplied a generalised account of various passengers returning to Britain: ‘There are 89 third class passengers aboard. Quite a lot of them are homies who [erased: o] have been only twelve months in New Zealand and are returning home disgusted with the country’ (Cl 3). Unlike the temporary visits of correspondents in earlier decades, these permanent returns of acquaintances took place at a later date. Responsibilities towards the family farm in Ireland also played a part in return migration, with most examples in this category emerging, not surprisingly, from Ireland. Catherine Colgan, a farmer’s wife at Tonduff in County Antrim, initially urged her son Johnny’s return by stressing the favourable aspect of his farm: ‘I would be so glad that he would come home to his own farm for there never was such good crops on it as this year’ (Co 3). By 1901 she adopted a different tactic, asking daughter Rose to ‘advise him to come home, for his places is going down’ (Co 6). Apart from stressing the farm Catherine also considered that Johnny would fare better in Ireland. She urged Rose to ‘advice him to come home as I believe he would be far better in his own home’ and ‘I would be so proud to see him in his own home, as working in that country’ (Co 5, 3). It is not known whether Johnny McMullan ever did return to his native Antrim. David McCullough, a goldminer from Moneyreagh in County Down, was also urged to return home to take over the family farm. His father Samuel’s hopes for David’s return were even stipulated in his will. It specified that Samuel’s farm was to pass to his wife and upon her death was to pass to David ‘should he come home from abroad inside two years from my wifes decease’.12 Irish women writing from New Zealand contemplated return migration after the death of their husband. Agnes Lambert’s letter from Auckland in 1877 indicates her wish to return to Antrim as well as the desire expressed by her children to visit Ireland:

12

Will of Samuel McCullough, P.R.O.N.I., MIC/15c/2/43. 195

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The would like to see some of there cousins. The are alyes toaking [always talking] about them and wishing the coud go home to se them. . . . I hope we will se you all son as I am think of coaming home soun as I can and bringin the three Boys with me. . . . One of my suns has been away for to [two] years and he said he woud go home to se all you befor he woud come home again. (La 4)

Thirty-five years later, and a year before her death, Agnes confessed, ‘I would love to go back to Ireland now but of course it is impossible. I was leaving for Ireland some years ago – had my passage booked and luggage aboard but at the last minute had my things taken off and came ashore but now I wish I had gone after all’ (La 6). Another widow, Annie Dempsey, also thought about returning to join her sister: ‘I often think I will sell out he and go home & buy a farm whear I would be nere you’ (De 10). These examples of actual and contemplated return migration from New Zealand contradict the assumption that migrant correspondents perceived migration as permanent and did not long to return.13 Rather, they support the view of Eric Richards, who contends, ‘The idea of returning home, either for or against, was rarely far from the mind of the emigrant, from the moment of expatriation to the time of death.’14 As we have seen, explanations for return migration among correspondents and their associates were just as diverse as the motives that propelled migrants from Ireland. Failure, success, marriage, family obligations, and the idea that migration was a temporary venture all account for actual and proposed return to Ireland. For most correspondents return was merely contemplated, not fulfilled, as Table 7.1 shows.

Table 7.1 Number of passages citing return migration Male Possibility of return by an acquaintance

Female

Unspecified

1

2

Reports of return by an acquaintance

20

1

Requests, hope, and desire for migrant’s return

18

2

Reports of possibility, promises, and desire by writer to return

19

5

5

3

Reports of return from another destination

13 Stephen Fender, Sea changes: British emigration and American literature (Cambridge, 1992), p. 152. 14 Eric Richards, ‘Return migration and migrant strategies in colonial Australia’ in David Fitzpatrick (ed.), Home or away? Immigrants in colonial Australia (Canberra, 1992), p. 64.

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Just as migrants continually contemplated their return to Ireland, so too did their kinfolk. And as the following examples show, many correspondents used the word ‘home’ in their sustained efforts to lure migrants back to Ireland, on either a temporary or permanent basis. Among those calling for a temporary return of their kinfolk was William Gilmer. Planning himself to leave Ireland, William urged his brother to ‘come home for a run, & I would return with you’ (Gr 2). Twentieth-century migrants were also encouraged to return temporarily. In 1916 Maggie Moran divulged to May Sullivan, ‘Your Mother had great hopes that yourself and poor Cris “Would come back to Erin” during last summer. I earnestly hope that we will enjoy [erased: such a] the great happiness of seeing you once more with all your friends in Borrisokane. What about coming home on next summer’ (Fa 6). Among those seeking the permanent return of their relatives was John McIlrath. In 1862 he keenly desired that ‘the time is not far distant when rolling Seas shall no more divide us and when you shall again breath the air of your Native Home’s’ (Il 4). The Strongs in Tipperary echoed similar sentiments. On the eve of his cousin Daniel’s departure, John Strong declared, ‘always remember Dan that you have a home in Ireland while one of us lives. Then if you find New Zealland not to agree with your health do not hesitatate a moment in coming back here again’ (St 2). John Strong’s brother, Martin, shared John’s forthright desire to reunite with Daniel, asking his cousin, ‘How you would never say I will go home soon. You should throw New Zealand there and come to Ireland’ (St 3). Not surprisingly, although both male and female migrant correspondents contemplated return, men were more likely to be encouraged to return by their non-migrant kinfolk. This was particularly true of unmarried sons who were frequently expected to return to Ireland to either take over the family farm or continue the family lineage. How did migrant correspondents react to these sustained calls to return temporarily or permanently to Ireland? As we have seen, migrant correspondents were largely satisfied with life in New Zealand, and in many cases this diminished the desire to return to Ireland. Goldminer Oliver McSparron consistently refused to return to Umrycam in County Londonderry, even though he reported the return of a friend. In 1865, four years after his arrival in New Zealand, Oliver advised that he intended to be home ‘but I did not realise my expectations’ (Sp 2). Responding to later attempts to lure him home, Oliver insisted to his father, ‘As regar[ds] me going home it is a thing I cannot bring my mind to willingly as I am in a country that pleases me’ (Sp 3). The thought of returning home lingered in Oliver’s mind, but the resultant restlessness was enough to prevent the move: ‘I had a great notion of going home this some time back but I could not bring my mind to it as I think I could not stop if I went home’ (Sp 4). Though Oliver McSparron decided to remain in the colony, his father continued his efforts to induce him to return home, even going so far as to advertise in a colonial paper in 1880 for him to return (Sp 6). Fellow goldmining prospector David McCullough also rebuffed pleas to return to Ireland. As time went by, David used his continued involvement 197

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in digging for gold, as part of a co-operative, as an excuse to remain in the colony when his parents requested his return to Ireland: ‘Dear Father & Mother you are both asking me to come home. It would be very a[w]kward at the present time to get away. We are still holding on the cascade claim. We have got a good bit of money sunk in it now but I will try and be home in the inside of Twelve Months’ (Cu 6). Like Oliver McSparron, David McCullough remained in New Zealand. These pleas for migrants to return, and the migrants’ responses, contain many instances of the word ‘home’. But what exactly was home? For some correspondents ‘home’ was equated with the broad entity of Ireland. John Keane commented from Waterford on his sisters’ leaving ‘ye’r home in Old Ireland’ while others mentioned going ‘home to Ireland’ (Ke 2). James McIlrath summarised more than thirty years after his emigration, ‘It is refreshing to get news from (Home). I still call it Home yet although I have lived longer here than in old Ireland but I believe if we were to live here for a Century we would still call the place of our Birth Home’ (Il 33). Home for Philip Carroll, on the other hand, was New Zealand. During his return visit to Nenagh, he anticipated his return to ‘my real home in New Zealand’ (Cl 23). Philip’s acknowledgement of New Zealand as home was largely attributable to the presence there of his wife and children. Home could also mean Heaven, as discussed in Chapter 9. More frequently home was a neighbourhood in which acquaintances were mentioned, or a household encompassing a range of inhabitants. Most often, however, home referred to a physical dwelling. Kate Keane commented on her mother’s grave located ‘just opposite the home where she was born’ (Ke 5). John Strong encouraged his cousin Daniel to return to their ‘humble home’, while Margaret Kilpatrick’s sister-in-law claimed to have ‘a good home and very comfortable’ (St 1; Ki 15). For Margaret’s recently widowed brother, the ‘same happy home as of yore is not here for me now’ (Ki 5). The activities of sleep, conversation, and reading were often carried out within the home. As for the characteristics of home, a range of economic, physical, and social functions applied. In contemplating their possible return to Ireland, several correspondents reflected nostalgically on their native land. Frequently, gatherings of fellow Irish migrants in New Zealand led to reminiscences in which ‘We almost felt as if we were roaming over Irish soil again and forgot for the time that there is a distance between’ (Il 26). John Armstrong mused wistfully a decade after his departure from Roscommon, ‘Just 10 years since I left Kiltoom. What a long time to be without seeing one of the old family circle’ (Ar 2). In response to his sister’s recollection of days gone by, John remarked, ‘one or two allusions you made to our Kiltoom days almost made an old woman of me’ (Ar 3). Annie Dempsey explained to her mother in Carlow, ‘Although I am far away to day from home yet home never leaves my heart nor never will’ (De 2). As with Irish correspondence from Australia, most reminiscences about Ireland from Irish migrants in New Zealand were nostalgic recollections rather than the 198

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exiled laments that Kerby Miller has argued emanated from North America.15 Indeed only one letter from an Irish correspondent in New Zealand used the word ‘exile’. Writing to his niece in 1899 John O’Regan admitted, ‘my return now as doubtful as that of the Bark of Styx whose exile was eternal’ (Re 1). Non-migrant letter writers also drew on this nostalgic imagery to prompt the return of migrants to Ireland. Several referred to their native country as ‘old Ireland’ (Hu 5; Ly 1; Ke 2), ‘holy Ireland’ (St 2), ‘dear old Ireland’ (St 3), and ‘poor dear Ireland’ (Ke 10). Irish-based correspondents employed a range of strategies besides direct appeals for return in conjunction with the word ‘home’ and nostalgic laments to lure migrants back to Ireland. One such tactic concerned inheritance matters, and the Lysaght sequence of letters from County Limerick is instructive on this issue. Despite Edward Lysaght’s efforts to obtain money from his father and brother in Ireland, he was repeatedly rebuffed and urged to return to Limerick to take up his share of the family holding. According to brother William in 1869: ‘As to what you said in my fathers letter that you had as good a right to half (what we had) as I had you know this is not true. Had you stayed at home my father would have divided evenly with you’ (Ly 2). The family patriarch Edmund Lysaght, however, refused to subdivide his holding and send the proceeds to his migrant son: ‘As for dividing this farm tis not be thought of. Neither would it be allowed’ (Ly 3). Inheritance issues also preoccupied the cousins of Daniel Strong who desired Daniel’s return to take over the running of his father’s public house, which had transferred to other ownership. Martin Strong expressed a longing ‘to see your name planted there yet’ (St 3), while Lizzie conveyed wistfully, ‘It would be the joy of our hearts to see you where you had a right to be’ (St 4). Daniel Strong was also urged to return to Ireland to marry. In 1895 Martin Strong, who was particularly preoccupied with Daniel’s marital status, urged Daniel to ‘face dear old Ireland once more where I will have a lump of a fine Connaught damsel to be your better half for the remainder of your days. I would marry myself for spite but tis bad to commence in the rong end of the family’ (St 3). Indeed, a case study of the Strong family provides intriguing insight into post-Famine Irish marital practices, which typically took place later in life or was avoided altogether.16 In 1901 the unmarried Strong brothers, ranging in age from 49 to 33, lived together in the family homestead.17 Within two years John and Martin, the eldest and youngest, married. Another brother Patrick remained single until 1912, while Denis Strong never married.

15 David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995), p. 616. 16 David Fitzpatrick, ‘Marriage in post-famine Ireland’ in Art Cosgrove (ed.), Marriage in Ireland (Dublin, 1985), p. 117. 17 The 1901 Census records the eldest brother John’s age as 41. Baptism registers, however, indicate that he was 49 at the time.

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An arresting alternative to the standard match typically made between the eldest son and eldest daughter was contained in John Armstrong’s query to his sister in 1859: ‘You did not mention the name of Kate’s intending. Is it fair of him to pass over so many and choose the youngest but one as I believe she is’ (Ar 1). The only twentieth-century example relating to the ‘match’ emerged from Tipperary in 1925, though we should be alert to it being a second-hand report. Philip Carroll’s response to an approaching marriage was clearly perceived as an economic, rather than a romantic union: Mother and myself had a drive out to Bertie’s, Auntie Tessie’s last night. Her eldest daughter Alys is getting married on the 17th in Dublin to a pub-keeper. I did not see her trousseau (no gents admitted) but Mother says it is splendid and she has got a lovely lot of valuable presents. She has £1000 fortune. Her husband is 44 and she is 24. What do you think for that difference, but such is the way they do things in Ireland. They say it is a love match. I “hae ma douts.” You dont believe it do you. I don’t. Anyway that they may live happy ever after is my wish. (Cl 20)

Other Irish-based correspondents preferred to discuss the genealogical rather than fiscal attributes of their choice of marriage partner. In many cases, though, family credentials implicitly highlighted economic status. Such detail was significant in reassuring migrant recipients that desirable matches were obtainable in Ireland. In 1880 Joseph Reid reported from Armagh to his sister Margaret Kilpatrick, ‘I got the wife up near Newtonhamulton [Newtownhamilton]. She is the connection of the Clarkes of Clarksbridge’ (Ki 9). The marriage of Annie Dempsey’s sister, meanwhile, prompted inquiries among Annie’s acquaintances in New Zealand: ‘He asked me was it a Burk from Kil[l]elan that my sister was married to. I said I did not know as I onely had a few lins from Mrs Dagg. She said it was a Burk from [word illegible] Baltinglass’ (De 7). John Strong, writing of his marriage in the early twentieth century, informed cousin Daniel, ‘I am married this three years to a second cousin of my own named Ellen Kennedy’ (St 6). Apart from these extracts concerning ‘match’ requirements and genealogical details, reports of marriages also emphasised the character and attributes of the chosen partner. These were overwhelmingly favourable reflections, originating from Catholics and Protestants, male and female, writing in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In many instances, such reports implicitly alerted recipients to the economic benefits of marriage. They also implied the release of migrants from certain obligations. From Armagh in 1880 Margaret Kilpatrick’s friend Sophy Lang claimed to ‘have the best old man in our Country. He is a very healthy and industrious man’ (Ki 7). Sophy also reported that another acquaintance ‘is married to a sea Captain. She lives in Dundalk like a Lady’ (Ki 7). That same year Margaret Kilpatrick’s brother Joseph Reid happily informed her, ‘I have got an agreeable partner in life whitch is a great blessing’ (Ki 9). This description of a good match being a blessing was reiterated by Annie Dempsey in 1891 who wrote, on hearing news 200

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of her sister’s marriage in Carlow, ‘We were verry glad to hear you were married and got sutch a nice study young man . . . and you know when you marrie you meet with eighten curs or a blessen but I am delighted to hear from what infermation I can gather you have met with a Blessen for shurly a man that dos not drink is a Blessen’ (De 7). David McCullough also learned of the marriages of his sisters after the event, writing that he was ‘glad to hear that Isabella is married to Robert Magill. I always liked Bob. The have not got a large family only one Maggie called after Mother. Lizzie’s husband Moore Fisher I dont think I know him. I dont remember any of that name near us’ (Cu 5). Lizzie Strong wrote from Tipperary in 1898 responding to her cousin Daniel’s query: ‘You asked me in your letter if the Miss Walshes were all married. Well there are three of them married and got very good matches. Anna is to the good like myself not married yet’ (St 4). Maggie Moran’s report of a friend’s marriage in 1916 also emphasised the groom’s character and the attainment of a sound union: ‘I am sure you have heard of Mary Slattery’s marriage with Mr Maher (Roscrea). It was a splendid turn-out. He is a real nice man a very good match entirely’ (Fa 5). These favourable reports of matrimony undoubtedly reassured Irish correspondents in New Zealand that a companionable marriage was obtainable in Ireland. Such announcements, however, could also generate pensive reflection among migrant correspondents. Upon receiving news of his brothers’ respective marriages in the 1860s Hamilton McIlrath reflected soberly (Il 12): When I heard that John was married it took me right flat aback. I thought he always said beggar the weman. However I like his pluck and for William I thought he was too much in love and too poetical ever to marry any one but the appear to be both happy and that is the only thing in this wicked world . . . . I dont think I ever knew Williams Missess and Robert how is he Getting on. He will be quite a man now. If he takes my advice he will court a hurricane but not be in [erased: ?two] too much hurry marreying. As for myself I dont think I will ever be able to make up my mind. Marriage is a very serious thought.

Announcements of Irish marriages, reported after the event, indicate that correspondents in Ireland rarely sought the advice of separated kinfolk in this matter. One exception is Robert Hughes, who in April 1924 provided the requisite details of his soon-to-be son-in-law Michael O’Connell, including his connexion to Daniel O’Connell, and then requested his son’s opinion: It is the wonder of the world how he selected the poor old military mans daughter without fortune & so many with hundereds striving to catch him. He is medium size dark and his name is O’Connell. I think he is a relation of the ‘liberators’. It is true Tommie as God made them he matched them. I don’t think you could get such a pair of T.T.S. [?truly thoughtful souls] in the world. He was greatly liked by the Gentry around here and always asked out to dine. He is coming to visit us at Easter 201

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and arrange matters & retire from the Army to his farm. He employs two constant men on the farm. I would like to have your views on this matter. (Hu 3)

A subsequent letter in July 1924 revealed ‘they will be married by the middle of August. It seems it is just like your own final & finished’ (Hu 5). As with letters sent from Ireland to Australia, these reports of marriage in Irish–New Zealand letters ‘give little hint that nuptiality was thought to be in decline’.18 The extracts also provide penetrating insights into matrimonial practices, which contrasts with the ‘veil of privacy and silence’ characterising letters sent from Ireland to Australia.19 Unlike their counterparts writing to Australia who reported marriages ‘concisely and unsentimentally’, 20 correspondents writing to New Zealand supplied elaborate and engaging examples of marriage in Ireland. This contrast with Fitzpatrick’s collection of letters is perhaps best explained by the fact that a larger proportion of Irish–New Zealand correspondents were writing to members of their own generation, whereas correspondents communicating from Ireland to Australia tended to be parents writing to their children.21 This characteristic also helps explain the minimal discussion of courtship and intimacy in Irish–Australian correspondence.22 In contrast, correspondents writing between Ireland and New Zealand supplied fascinating fragments of male–female interaction, but these are perhaps more attributable to the inclusion of twentieth-century material rather than the demographic profile of writers and recipients. From Canterbury in the mid 1860s, Hamilton McIlrath wished to know from his brother in County Down, ‘How you are carying on the War amongst the Girls and above all things keep clear of My perogitive’, but confessed that the colony contained ‘Better looking girls than some of the Dark Looking woman you see at Home’ (Il 9). Hamilton was relieved, however, that there was ‘No woman in the house to trouble us’ (Il 8). By the twentieth century comments about courtship in Ireland grew increasingly regular and more liberal. Matt Farrell, for instance, disclosed from Tipperary to his brother Paddy that a friend ‘is as bad as ever after the girls’. Speculating on Paddy’s status, Matt mused, ‘I suppose you have a nice little mot spooted out there now. Give her lots of sugar candy & chocolate’ (Fa 3). The only female correspondent to discuss such matters was Maggie Moran who wrote from Borrisokane in 1916, ‘Joe and I never fell out. The cause of the coolness was that he did not make A.P’s with me. I suppose that he was too shy. I had many a change of fellows since and the latest is Denis Hanly’. Maggie 18

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 547. Ibid., p. 549. 20 Ibid., p. 547. 21 Ibid. Nine of Fitzpatrick’s 14 sequences were letters exchanged predominantly between parents and children, whereas only 14 out of 36 sequences in this study were parent–child correspondence. 22 Ibid., p. 548. 19

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further revealed, ‘Nice fellows are scarce in Borris’ (Fa 6). Twentieth-century announcements of marriages in Ireland also included different vocabulary. ‘Westropp is getting “tied up” in June to Miss Samuels from Kilbarron Rectory’ (Fa 4), explained Maggie Moran in 1914 from Tipperary. The positive reports of marriages contained in correspondence sent from Ireland to New Zealand were, to a small extent, mirrored in accounts concerning kin relationships. Such accounts, however, were mainly supplied by returned migrants, or nostalgically expressed by migrant correspondents in New Zealand. Edward Lysaght, for instance, upon his return to Ireland in 1872, ‘spent another night in Waterford a very plesant one too with N. Lysaght Pat’s brother’ (Ly 6). The following century returned migrant Philip Carroll commented favourably several times on various kin networks surrounding him in County Tipperary. Though he initially squabbled with his sister, he later told his wife that ‘the more I know her the better I like her’ (Cl 9). Philip also mentioned relations who ‘are awfully friendly and do not seem to be ever tired of showing me how welcome I am’ (Cl 12). Christchurch accountant William Cardwell, meanwhile, after learning news of his father’s death in County Down, earnestly hoped that his siblings ‘will all live agreeably together the same as you have done all along’ (Ca 1). Seemingly, few correspondents in Ireland bothered to comment on harmonious family relationships. Nor did many letter writers in Ireland provide reports about specific neighbours. William Gilmer, however, considered an acquaintance in Monaghan ‘a very decent sort of chap, comes to see me regular’ while Catholic publican John Strong revealed a Protestant neighbour in Tipperary to be ‘a dear friend of ours’ (Gr 2; St 6). Sophy Lang in Armagh enjoyed a warm relationship with Margaret Kilpatrick’s mother. According to Sophy, the evening before Margaret’s mother died, ‘We spent the evening cheerful and pleasant as we always done’ (Ki 7). Correspondents in Ireland were more inclined, however, to report on general neighbourhood gatherings. Writing to her daughter Ann in Wellington, Elizabeth McCleland mentioned the presence in Dunronan, County Londonderry, of a ‘vast cataloge of Friends and wellwishers to tedious to mention Individually’ (Cd 1). In 1859, the extent of such neighbourliness is recorded in John Armstrong’s letter to his sister in which he mused, ‘What a dissipated young lady you must have become since you left poor quiet Kiltoom. I do not remember your going out so many evenings all the time we lived there. As you say you were in a few works. I am glad you have the friends to go to and that you take advantage of their invitations to go out’ (Ar 1). Two years later the McIlrath brothers learned that their parents in County Down had attended ‘a party on Monday night last’ (Il 4). Several years later, following their son-in-law’s visit, James told his parents that he ‘speaks highly of the reception he got from you all’ (Il 28). Upon learning of the death of his parents at Tonaghmore, Christchurch-based William Cardwell was ‘glad indeed to know that the neighbours have been so kind to them that are gone’ (Ca 1). Philip Carroll, meanwhile, was swamped with invitations when he returned 203

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to Nenagh in 1925. He remarked that he had been ‘deluged with applications and invitations from friends and relations’ and that ‘Every friend seems to vie with one another in doing me a good turn’ (Cl 5, 6). Competition between individuals, then, could generate positive rather than negative outcomes. So too could ill-health. During a period of convalescence Robert Hughes was visited by his Catholic neighbours, prompting his verdict, ‘the are not a bad lot after all’ (Hu 8). Examples of migrants seeking news of their associates in Ireland are also suggestive of amicable feelings. Just weeks after his arrival at Port Chalmers in 1875, for instance, David McCullough earnestly requested his parents to ‘Let me know how all our old neighbours are getting on and all the moneyrea people’ (Cu 3). Other migrants frequently used a variation of the phrase ‘Remember me to all old friends & acquantences’ (Il 29). The letters sent by Annie Dempsey from Canterbury to Carlow, meanwhile, contain several recollections of warm neighbourhood networks in Ireland. ‘Give my warmest love to Mrs Dagg And Family’, Annie urged. ‘I Suppose She is As Pleasant As ever.’ In commenting on another acquaintance, Annie wrote warmly, ‘I often think of Her And All the times I went to visit to there Place’ (De 4). These healthy examples of neighbourly interaction emerged from Protestant and Catholic, male and female correspondents, and spanned both centuries. The existence and persistence of such neighbourhood ties provided immense comfort to migrant letter writers who remained very concerned about the wellbeing of their kinsfolk. Unlike reports of marriages, however, discussion of kin and neighbourhood networks in Ireland possessed a rumbling undercurrent of dissent and discontent. Such conflict, David Fitzpatrick has argued, concerned the ‘transfer of household headship, negotiation of the dowry, and allocation of financial compensation to non-inheritors’.23 These issues certainly provoked conflict, but other issues were just as likely to generate dissension between migrants and non-migrants, and among nonmigrants. The tensions caused by family feuds appear in several letters emanating from both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, from both sexes, and from Catholics and Protestants. Only two sequences, however, contain heated exchanges between parent and migrant child and these concerned the transfer of money. Responding to his son Edward’s requests for finance in 1870, Edmund Lysaght argued energetically from his farm at Knocknacarriga in County Limerick, ‘When I make money if I send to you twill be only wasting it as you would be able to make no use of it’ (Ly 3). Four years later, after providing Edward with a sum of money, Edmund declared, ‘I was much surprised when I got your letter. It was more like a [?testing] letter than a letter of friendship. As it was the will of our Saviour to bless me with to [two] sons I was not blessed by them and I cant see what they have done for them

23

Fitzpatrick, Irish emigration, p. 41. 204

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selves’ (Ly 8). Not surprisingly, this appears to be the last letter exchanged between father and son. Money was also the cause of acrimonious relations in some Protestant families. In 1882, twenty-two years after his departure from County Londonderry, Oliver McSparron wrote accusing his father Archibald that money left with him was ‘wrongfully converted’. If, Oliver threatened, the money was not received immediately, ‘I will be forced to adopt other measures for the recovery of the same’ (Sp 7). This, too, is the last letter contained in the surviving McSparron sequence and suggests that father and son were not reconciled at the time of Archibald’s death a year later. Other correspondents voiced grievances about their parents to members of their own generation. Writing to his brother Robert, John Gilmore expressed disappointment at the outset of his migration in 1876 at not receiving a letter from his father. As John confided to his brother, ‘he may have a better friend than me and I hope that who ever he may be will stand his friend from this out’ (Ge 4). The only known letter of Limerick-born wheelwright James O’Neill was also sent to his brother. Dated 1863, it reveals serious conflict between father and sons: I got a letter from Patt. He complains how he is treated by his father but I dont wonder at it from the treatment I got after spending my whole life I might say, in doing everything that I possibly could for the ruffian. I hope this winter will send him where he can light his pipe with the top of his finger.

James O’Neill had to wait four years before his father died.24 James’s letter also indicates that his sister Theresa was troublesome. As he informed Thomas, somewhat wryly, ‘The youngster is getting to be a good girl . . . . We called her Theresa so if she takes after her aunt I suppose she will be a saucy customer.’ James also expressed his sorrow ‘that Theresa is going on in such a way as Patt complains’ (Ne 1). Though family disharmony might well have spurred James’s departure to New Zealand, as an accomplished wheelwright he may also have migrated in search of greater employment opportunities. That economic considerations were important is suggested by his several references to employment in the colony. Quarrels between parents and children were also evident in the twentieth century. Philip Carroll, for instance, wrote to his wife documenting the squabbling in Nenagh, County Tipperary, between his mother and sister Nance who ‘tries hard to order Mother about but Mother is well able to stand up for her rights’ (Cl 6). A week later he conceded that ‘Mother is getting old now and is sometimes rather hard to get on with. I have not had a cross word with

24

James O’Neill senior’s death is not recorded in the civil records. I am therefore grateful to Dr Chris O’Mahony, former director of the Limerick Archives, who informed me that James O’Neill died on 4 May 1867 at 72 years of age, and was buried at Mount St Laurence cemetery. 205

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her but can well understand why Nance flies off the handle sometimes’ (Cl 8). Although his sister was also home on a return visit from England, she presumably saw her mother on a more regular basis, a factor that both enhanced the potential for conflict and made it easier to offer criticism. As frustrated and bitter as they might feel towards their parents, correspondents were just as likely to censure their siblings, or clash with them. This is not surprising given the constrictive and competitive elements characterising Irish family life. In close proximity and competing for resources, the bitter atmosphere surrounding some sibling interaction may have been a factor not only in the decision to migrate, but also in the determination to remain in New Zealand. Disapproval of the activities of some siblings, particularly when the ramifications of these activities were felt among the wider neighbourhood, also generated resentment. Intriguingly, most of these reports of sibling strife emanated from Catholic male correspondents. Though on the receiving end of much criticism from their brothers, Irish women’s letters failed to contain similar sentiments. This may be evidence that women correspondents were bound by convention to keep such matters to themselves. Or perhaps they had more to fear if such comments were to reach the ears of those they admonished. That the censured individual could discover such criticism is evident in the strain that developed between Philip Carroll and his sister Nance after she read a letter in which Philip described her as ‘so prim and precise’. Consequently, ‘there has been hell to pay in our house this afternoon’ (Cl 6). Other correspondents, all Catholics, also disclosed shaky sibling relationships. Martin Strong referred scathingly to his sister Margaret as ‘a foolish girl’ and solemnly confided to his cousin Daniel, ‘Margaret complains why we are so bad to her. Well to tell you the truth if she got anything she might not put it to good use and I would be against her for that’ (St 3). Migrants’ failure to keep their family in Ireland informed of their intentions also generated annoyance. As Louth native Richard Flanagan complained to one of his younger brothers, Michael, ‘I have fel[t] a good deal disappointed that you told nothing of your plans or arrangements for the future’ (Fl 13). The Keane sequence of letters also indicates the existence of difficult relationships within the family. In 1886 Kate Keane wrote from Clashmore, County Waterford, to her migrant sister Mary Anne, informing her that their brother John ‘is a really show amongst the neighbours talking about him’ (Ke 3). In later years, John Keane revealed from America that his brother James had sought money for drink ‘& because I would not give it to him he got angry so I told him to go his road. I hav’ent heard of him since’ (Ke 7). Just as tensions within immediate families developed from discrimination and dependence, so too wider tensions between kinfolk emerged from issues related to dependency. As Kate Keane forcibly declared following her father James’s death in 1903, ‘we loathe any Keane except Fathers uncle James & his children’ (Ke 5). The reason for Kate’s contempt for the Keane family is unknown, but her great-uncle James Keane seems to have provided shelter 206

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and possibly labour to her family at Shanacoole.25 During his time in New Zealand William Gilmer had assisted his cousins Robert and Abigail Gilmer to the colony, but he remained bitter that cousin Robert ‘never wrote me a line, & all I did for him’ (Gr 2).26 Though this evidence of conflict among siblings in Ireland differed sharply according to religion, with Catholics more likely to censure, both Protestant and Catholic correspondents reported the existence of tensions among wider kin networks in Ireland in both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. That they should have arisen was inevitable. The interaction and collective responsibilities existing among families also prevailed among individuals connected by marriage and these could be just as constrictive. Female correspondents were more inclined to discuss tensions with wider kin networks, perhaps because they were corresponding with those who shared their feelings. Margaret Kilpatrick, for instance, learned from her sister-in-law Sarah Reid in 1916 that Sarah ‘did not get on very well with Robert John’s family’ (Ki 15). There is no conclusive evidence that such tension sparked migration, but troubled relationships among kinfolk must have made migration an attractive alternative to life in Ireland. Poor relationships among wider neighbourhood networks must also have created an atmosphere in which migration was a desired outcome. The Keanes, for instance, had tense relationships not only with kinfolk but also with their wider neighbourhood networks. With characteristic vigour Kate Keane labelled Kate Doyle, her future sister-in-law, as ‘My biggest enemy & so are all the Doyles for I cant bear the sight of any of them’. The Doyles were not alone in incurring Kate’s wrath for in the same letter she spouted, ‘Kate Hartnett & sister are my biggest enemies also. Every one hate them’ (Ke 3). The Keane sequence also illuminates controversies that could arise concerning marriage. John Keane’s intended spouse generated resistance from family members but criticism was muted for as Kate Keane wrote in 1886, ‘He might take & marry her at once then in order to vex us’ (Ke 3). One year after Kate’s warning, John did indeed wed Catherine Doyle. This conflict among associates in Ireland is also discernible in other sequences of correspondence. Andrew Gilmore, upon learning of the death of a neighbour at home, admitted, ‘Little did I think that He would been the First party out of the Two that gave me so much Dissatisfaction’ (Ge 9). Disappointment with the behaviour and attitudes of neighbours could also generate reproach. In County Louth, Richard Flanagan, the ‘uncle priest’ of Michael and Patrick, was dismayed by the reaction of neighbours when they

25 Kate’s father James is not returned as an occupier of house or land in the land revision books. His uncle James, however, held land at Shanacoole and it was from there that most of the Keane sequence was written. 26 Robert and Abigail Gilmer were the children of James Gilmer and Ann Jane Watson of Castleblayney.

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received news of their brother’s slaying. Fr Flanagan reported that Peter Kirk, a brother of the deceased, ‘observed that it was bad enough to lose himself but that it would be bad altogether to lose his money. I was not pleased with him. It is a very thankless business to have to deal with some folk under such circumstances’ (Fl 12). William Gilmer conveyed similar displeasure when a neighbour returned to Ireland from New Zealand and ‘gave a very bad acct’ of William’s brothers (Gr 2). William claimed boldly that ‘if I heard the brat I wd make mince meat of him’ (Gr 2). As with strains among kin networks, conflicts with neighbours continued to be reported in the twentieth century. In 1916 Maggie Moran wrote from Borrisokane in Tipperary to her friend May Sullivan claiming that the Kennedy family ‘could not give a cup of tea with a good heart. The people over there are disgusted with them’ (Fa 6). Philip Carroll also alleged from Tipperary in 1925, ‘I never had a line from Dick Donworth and Mother tells me that she would get the biggest surprise of her life if I got a loan of even £5 from him because she reckons the Bolands and the Donworths so far as money is concerned are the meanest people between here and New Zealand’ (Cl 5). Another acquaintance who failed to fulfil a promise also earned Philip’s contempt: ‘To h__ with him I say’ (Cl 24). Just as neighbourly connexions in New Zealand sustained migrants abroad, so too were these obligations expected at home. And just as failure to uphold these responsibilities generated resentment among Irish correspondents in New Zealand, so too did they spark dissent in Ireland. Occasionally, local friction resulted in physical violence or the threat of it, but this was confined to male participants. In 1883 John Strong reported from Lehinch in Tipperary that ‘Rob. and Mike Duffy got 14 days in nenagh jail for beating Curley’ (St 2). More serious enmities appeared in Robert Hughes’s assessment from County Sligo in 1927 of ‘a lot of suasides & murders here & at Tubbercurry & Skreen. All those places were familiar to you so you see the Country is not in a happy mood’ (Hu 10). The extensive evidence of disharmony among social networks in Ireland may well have caused correspondents in New Zealand deep concern and contributed to their failure to return home. This discourse of dissent in Irish–New Zealand correspondence therefore provides support for Kerby Miller and Patrick O’Farrell, who in their respective accounts of Irish migration, to America and Australia respectively, claim that departure from Ireland was an escape from ‘parental repression’ and ‘the tyranny of the old place’.27 In stark contrast, David Fitzpatrick has noted in his edition of Irish–Australian correspondence that ‘the prevalent image of family life in these letters is one

27 Kerby A. Miller, Emigrants and exiles: Ireland and the Irish exodus to North America (New York, 1985), p. 483; Patrick O’Farrell, Letters from Irish Australia, 1825–1929 (Kensington, 1984), p. 8.

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of harmony and co-operation rather than acrimony’.28 How can we account for the divergence with Fitzpatrick’s evidence? One explanation may lie with the demographic profile of writers and recipients. In Irish–New Zealand letters, writers were corresponding with associates of a similar age, often siblings or cousins to whom they could confide. Fitzpatrick’s work, however, drew more heavily upon sequences of letters between parents and children. Consequently, his correspondents may have been reluctant to voice their criticism as openly as did their Irish-New Zealand counterparts. Just as troubled relationships may have played a role in spurring migration from Ireland, so too might they have prevented migrant letter writers from permanently returning home. It could of course equally well be argued that, rather than being discouraged from returning by negative reports of social relationships in Ireland, most migrant correspondents remained in New Zealand because they were satisfied with their new homeland. However, despite this contentment, there were times when Irish migrants considered returning. For Irish women, death of a husband was the major reason. Male migrants contemplated returning home during periods of depression in New Zealand or to seek money or a wife. Despite several examples of fleeting visits, generally undertaken a decade after their initial departure, only one letter writer is known to have returned to Ireland permanently. Returned migrant correspondents were reluctant to remain in Ireland, even though their non-migrant kinfolk vigorously attempted to persuade them to stay. Many inducements were employed, including marriage, inheritance, and emphasis on the word ‘home’. Despite its disparate applications, ‘home’ for most correspondents was an abstract entity encompassing not only the wider ‘home’ of Ireland, but also the more specific locality that migrants left.

28

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 550. 209

8

‘Never denie your country’ Politics and identity in the Old and New Worlds In November 1883, when his cousin Daniel departured from Lehinch, County Tipperary, John Strong proffered his advice: Dan never denie your country. Always help it to the best of your ability and according to your means, and never sit silent while your country or your countryment are misrepresented or slandered. Finally Dan shun evil company and everything evil but above all things beware of drunkeness that curse of Irishmen that follows them into every land degrading and debasing them. (St 2)

John Strong’s guidance to his cousin raises two issues that are the focus of this chapter. First, what political matters did correspondents at home and abroad discuss? As with John Strong, several letter writers in Ireland provided insightful accounts of Ireland’s political state. Their kinfolk in New Zealand, on the other hand, stayed relatively silent on matters pertaining to Irish politics. This chapter provides further support for studies highlighting the weak nationalist – as well as unionist – sentiment among the Irish in Australasia. For the Irish in New Zealand, as with the Irish in Australia, ‘the nationalist cause was to be embraced only warily’.1 Conversely, Irish migrant letter writers in New Zealand were immensely preoccupied with domestic affairs and wrote often about political issues in New Zealand society. These local concerns ranged from the electrifying impact of the New Zealand Wars through to the tumultuous events of the 1912 strike. The other issue raised by John Strong’s comment concerns Irish identity. In his comment he linked Irishness with drunkenness. The second section of the chapter therefore explores the various positive and negative attributes associated with Irishness. For Catholics, especially, their Irish ethnicity was amplified by church leaders to encourage their continuing adherence to the faith. But among correspondents, Irish Protestants were more inclined to proclaim their Irishness. In addition, aspects of colonial identity are also briefly explored. These issues of politics and identity are central to the history of the Irish diaspora.

1 Malcolm Campbell, ‘Irish nationalism and immigrant assimilation: comparing the United States and Australia’ in Australasian Journal of American Studies, xv (1996), p. 33.

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Armed insurrection was one means by which some Irish people sought the end of British rule in Ireland. The earliest references in the correspondence to Irish nationalist and political enterprises concerned the Fenians, a revolutionary group who attempted through physical force to end British rule in Ireland.2 In April 1866, a year before the Fenian Rising, 19-year-old Catholic William Lysaght wrote from his father’s farm at Knocknacarriga in County Limerick updating his brother on political activities in Ireland. William’s focus was upon Fenian plans to elicit support in North America for armed agitation in Ireland. As William informed his brother Edward in Auckland, in America they are hard at work yet making up man and money with which they intend to invade Canada and there to establish an Irish Republic after than there they would have another stroke for old Ireland. Its hard to say if they will do any good . . . the Fenian Leaders are now in Prison some for life some for 20 years some more for 10 years and a few for 5 years.3 (Ly 1)

Three years later, William reported that ‘ODonovan Rossa the Fenian convict has been elected M.P. for Tipperary’ (Ly 2).4 Other correspondents writing from Ireland condemned outright the Fenians’ revolutionary tactics. One such was Richard Flanagan, a Catholic customs agent in London and the product of a substantial farming family at Termonfeckin, County Louth. In June 1868, he cautioned his brothers in New Zealand to steer clear of Fenian involvement: I see by the news that those misguided people, the Fenians, are not without sympathisers in your part of the world. I hope you will have sense enough to hold aloof from mixing up in any way with people who have anything to do with them. They have only brought misery and misfortune on themselves and all who have had anything to do with them and injury on their unfortunate country. (Fl 3)

Richard Flanagan’s warning was presumably stimulated by news of the attempted assassination of the Duke of Edinburgh in Sydney by a Fenian sympathiser, albeit an unstable one.5 He may also have been aware of reports of the mock processions, funerals, arrests, and potential riots that threatened

2 For a review of the Fenian historiography see Patrick J. Quinlivan, ‘Hunting the Fenians: problems in the historiography of a secret organisation’ in Patrick O’Sullivan (ed.), The Creative Migrant (London, 1994), pp 133–53. 3 The arrests occurred on 15 September 1865. 4 Although elected at the Tipperary by-election, Rossa was prevented from being a member of parliament and another by-election was held. He remained imprisoned until 1871. 5 For the Fenian movement in Australia see Keith Amos, The Fenians in Australia, 1865–1880 (Kensington, 1988).

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relations on the West Coast goldfields.6 Fenian exploits in England, especially the trial of the ‘Manchester Martyrs’ and the explosion at Clerkenwell Prison on 13 December 1867, would also have influenced his warning. Though the letters from Irish Catholic writers in New Zealand make no reference to the Fenians, two contrasting opinions feature in the correspondence of the Unitarian McIlrath brothers. From Canterbury in June 1867, just four months after the Rising began, Hamilton McIlrath drew comparisons between the Fenians and Maori before uttering concern for confrontational tactics played out on his brother’s farm in County Down: The fenians seems to be keeping Ireland in a small fever of excitement. The dont show even as much pluck as the Maorias. What the want is to be lynch law’d as soon as cought. I hope the have not been trying on any more [erased: at Johns] of thire games at Johns. When he got that man he ought to have tied him and and sent for the police and made him Give an account of himself. (Il 12)

Unlike Hamilton, who had considered the Fenians lesser rebels than the Maori, James McIlrath assessed that the Irish insurgents would make worthy opponents of the Maori. As he suggested in June 1862, ‘I Hear it is in a disturbed state up the contry. The have not forgot their old tricks. The will be useful here to fight the Moiries’ (Il 6). A decade later, James also conveyed the desire that ‘I should [omitted: like] to hear of Ireland being a little more quiet as I Fancy it is a dangerous place betimes’ (Il 17). With the failure of the Fenian movement constitutional methods were considered more likely than insurrection to achieve Irish independence. Consequently, parliamentary initiatives for Irish self-government gained increasing support in the 1870s and 1880s. These movements were eventually synthesised in the Irish National Land League. This organisation, established in 1879, not only sought Home Rule for Ireland, but also pursued security of tenure – intended to protect the tenant from arbitrary eviction – through intimidation rather than violent tactics. Their methods, however, led to attempts to prosecute Charles Stewart Parnell and other leaders of the League. As Joseph Reid reported from Armagh in November 1880, There is great agitation here at present about lowering rents. Four or Five of the leaders is about to be brought before the Queens Bench for it. Parnell & others. Landlords Agents and Bailfiss [Bailiffs] are getting very bad care in the South and West of Ireland. We were obledged to get an abatement in our rents last year, and we have asked the same this year. (Ki 9)

6 These events are discussed in Chapter 1 of Richard P. Davis, Irish issues in New Zealand politics, 1868–1922 (Dunedin, 1974).

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The ‘Land War’ years of 1879–82 eventually culminated in security of tenure. Tenant agitation continued throughout 1886–9 with the ‘Plan of Campaign’, in which tenants conducted synchronised rent strikes on specific holdings. It was presumably earlier agitation, however, that Presbyterian migrant David Bell discussed in 1886 in a letter from Otago to Antrim: ‘But taking everything in particular the country is very dull and will continue to be so untill the get some sort of agitation such as was at home and make the big sheep farmers break up their big lots of land or Stations as the call them here’ (Be 1). Although David Bell’s dissatisfaction with landholding practices in New Zealand prompted this comparison with the Irish situation, his positive reference to agitation in Ireland suggests that he was a willing supporter of the protests there. The most prominent Irish political issue contained in the correspondence sent from Ireland to New Zealand was the drive for Home Rule. In 1895, with the return of the Conservatives to power and four years after the Irish Party ‘Split’, Martin Strong of Tipperary criticised the government of the day: ‘Of course you read in the paper about the unfortunate split in the Parliamentary party and every day its growing worse as we now have a Tory Government and are as far as ever from the long talked of Home Rule’ (St 3). The quest for Home Rule also appeared in the correspondence sent by Catherine Cunnane from Mayo during the early twentieth century. In 1906, three years after the Land Purchase Act of 1903, Catherine remarked wistfully to her cousin, ‘They land Lords had the best of the land in farms for themselves But times are mending in Ireland every day. If we only had home rule’ (Dw 3). Correspondents in New Zealand, on the other hand, rarely wrote about Irish politics in the later nineteenth century. They not only failed to discuss Home Rule, but also ignored in their letters the fundraising visits of Irish delegates such as John and William Redmond, who toured Australasia in 1883 on behalf of the Irish National League.7 In this sense Irish letter writers in New Zealand mirrored those migrant correspondents in Fitzpatrick’s study.8 Despite this apparent indifference, other evidence suggests that some Irish migrants maintained astute awareness of Irish issues, particularly the drive for Home Rule.9 Two letters from children of the McIlrath brothers are crucial, not only for the insight they give concerning interest in Ireland expressed by the second generation, but also the reactions of some Irish Protestant migrants to the movement. According to Hamilton McIlrath’s daughter Jennie

7 See Malcolm Campbell, ‘John Redmond and the Irish national league in Australia and New Zealand, 1883’ in History, lxxxvi (2001), pp 348–62. 8 David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995), p. 559. 9 Patrick O’Farrell’s edition of Irish–Australian letters likewise reveals that Home Rule was the most common aspect of Ireland’s political status discussed in migrant letters. See Letters from Irish Australia, 1825–1925 (Kensington, 1984), pp 57–8, 82, 151, 216, 225.

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in March 1914, ‘I see that “Home Rule” is getting a serious thing in Ireland now. We have great accounts of it in our papers. It is about the first thing Mother always reads. She is greatly interested in it.’10 A month later James’s married daughter, Tilly Smith, wrote, There seems to be great unrest in Ireland at the present times, according to the news cabled out to the papers in New Zealand. My father was always in favour of Home Rule for Ireland and others again would say that Home Rule would be Rome Rule and it would never do if Ireland got Home Rule. As for myself I cannot say, those who live in Ireland should know best.11

Tilly’s remark indicates that despite awareness of contemporary events in Ireland some second-generation New Zealanders considered that those physically and perhaps emotionally closer to home were in a better position to comment on Ireland’s condition. The unrest in Ireland referred to in Tilly Smith’s letter arose from the mounting tensions between supporters and opponents of Home Rule. Though Home Rule was eventually passed in 1914, the outbreak of world war suspended its implementation. Two years later a small band of insurgents rebelled in Dublin. Only one correspondent, however, passed comment on the Easter Rising. Maggie Moran reported gloomily from Borrisokane in County Tipperary in November 1916 to her friend May Sullivan, ‘I am sure that you have already heard of the Insurrection in Dublin on Easter Week. Wasn’t it terrible? And all the poor creatures who were killed’ (Fa 6). The large loss of civilian life provoked widespread outrage among Irish citizens who condemned the conspirators. But the British government’s response in executing or imprisoning many of the rebels provoked a reaction. The conscription controversy also gave rise to considerable opposition. As Kate Keane concluded in August 1918, three months before the war ended, ‘Were they to treat Ireland fair, every man would be [omitted: in] the army & fight for freedom but coercion will never get the Irish under subjection’ (Ke 10). Following the ending of the First World War tensions continued to grow in Ireland, resulting in the War of Independence between 1919 and 1921. In 1920, during the height of the ‘Troubles’, Sister Agnes wrote in dismay, ‘poor Ireland terribly disturbed at present’ (Fa 7). Kate Keane documented local manifestations of this violence in Waterford and neighbouring Cork when on 22 July 1921, eleven days after a truce was signed between the I.R.A. and crown forces, she wrote to her sister Mary: Pilltown has suffered & up the Blackwater. They are now being shamed into trying a settlement – but believe me it is a black spot in the History of England & all

10 11

Jennie McIlrath (Canterbury) to her cousin Sarah McIlrath (Down), 1 March 1914. Tilly Smith (Canterbury) to her cousin Minnie McIlrath (Down), 22 April 1914. 214

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through the Orangemen. Our Cousin Tom says he had a nice business & doing well in the motor line. The Sinn Feiners took some of his petrol from his garage & set fire to the police Barrack. He says it is an old ruin now & Patrick St Cork is in ruins by the Black & Tans. . . . The Black & Tans have burned the Farms & Creameries as reprisals on Sinn Feinn. (Ke 11)

This disturbing tit-for-tat cycle of violence in County Cork has been exposed by Peter Hart.12 The behaviour of the ex-British army soldiers who swamped the R.I.C., commonly called the Black and Tans, also generated savage condemnation from Philip Carroll in Auckland in February 1921: The ‘Black and Tan’ brutes are brave heroes when they are up against unarmed men and women and children. The same British soldiers were too frightened to advance against the Turks on Gallipoli and would only do so when a New Zealand captain turned a machine gun on them. The New Zealanders and Australians will tell you what kind of hero the Brutish Tommy is. (Cl 1)

Philip Carroll proceeded in similar vein to discuss the opposition to controversial Archbishop of Melbourne David Mannix’s mid 1920 tour of Ireland and Britain. Lloyd George had a great victory when he prevented Dr Mannix from visiting Ireland, but his victory will be short lived. If the omens are correct I should think his days as Prime Minister, of the outrager of small nations, have been numbered. Anyway Ireland has got Home Rule and I suppose we should be satisfied. (Cl 1)

Following a narrow majority approval of the Anglo-Irish Treaty in January 1922, which partitioned Ireland, the Irish Free State lapsed into a period of civil war with supporters and opponents of the Treaty inflicting fierce assaults. No contemporary reports of this civil disturbance exist in letters from Ireland. Nevertheless, Philip Carroll documented the conflict’s repercussions during his return visit to Tipperary in 1925. His twenty-three letters, sent from Ireland over a six-month period, May to October, depict a turbulent society, with the War of Independence and Civil War having wreaked profound change. Philip reported that the struggle prompted the return of a migrant who ‘had a big place of business in Dublin which was blown to atoms during the troubles there’ (Cl 3). The reverberations of the Civil War, meanwhile, surfaced at a ferocious hurling match where lingering resentments between

12

For analysis of events in County Cork during this period see Peter Hart, The I. R. A. and its enemies: violence and community in Cork, 1916–1923 (Oxford, 1998). For events in County Clare during this period see David Fitzpatrick, Politics and Irish life, 1913–1921: provincial experience of war and revolution (Cork, 1998; 1st ed., 1977). 215

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supporters and opponents of the Treaty were vividly described by an alarmed Philip Carroll: It was the first hurling I had seen since I left Ireland and I am not anxious to see any more. Rugby will do me: There is a lot of bad blood still here between the Free Staters and the Republicans (Rories). When two hurling teams meet one team may be Rories and the other Free Staters. Then if an argument starts it is very little will cause a miniature pitched battle with hurleys for weapons, and heaven alone knows where it might end. It started on a small scale last Sunday but was luckily stopped in time. (Cl 13)

That same week, Philip visited ‘Castle Fogarty which was a lovely gentleman’s mansion before I left but it has been burned to the ground by the Rories and there is nothing left standing but the walls. It is estimated that it would cost close on £100,000 to put it up again. Wanton destruction is right’ (Cl 13). Given his intimate knowledge of such events, Philip speculated to his wife, ‘I suppose when I return I will have all the Irish friends buzzing about me asking for the latest news of the distressful country. [I] will have some eyeopeners to give them about the present state of affairs here and about the times they have gone through in this old land’ (Cl 21). Just as migrant opinion of New Zealand was considered more reliable than propaganda or newspaper reports, so too did first-hand accounts of Ireland’s status carry more authority. The most extensive discussion of violence and political proceedings in Irish society throughout the 1920s appears in the letters of Robert Hughes, a retired constabulary officer based in County Sligo.13 Though Sligo experienced only moderate activity and violence during the revolutionary period,14 Robert’s reflections nevertheless show local and national consequences of the conflict. His musings are more detailed than those in any other sequence of letters in their analysis of the country after the official cessation of Civil War. In July 1923, just two months after the I.R.A. ceasefire, Robert admitted in a letter to his son Thomas, ‘We are a lot easier in our mind since the Free States Army came here. There is a good detachment of them quartered in the old Workhouse that was partially destroyed by fire’ (Hu 1). That same month official reports also indicate that Sligo was a calmer county.15 Elsewhere, however, violence had not dissipated and atrocities continued to be committed throughout the country. In March 1924 Robert gloomily informed his son of ‘a ter[r]ible slaughter of british soldiers & their wives & children at a place called Cobb [Cobh] Co. Cork, when landing from Spike Island. This Country is far from settled yet’ (Hu 2).16 13 For discussion of events in Sligo, see Michael Farry, Sligo 1914–1921: a chronicle of conflict (Trim, 1992). 14 See Michael Farry, The aftermath of revolution: Sligo, 1921–23 (Dublin, 2000), p. 15. 15 Ibid., p. 93. 16 The attack resulted in one death and twenty casualties.

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Robert Hughes not only reflected intently on contemporary events, but also recollected past atrocities. Attending to his bog in adverse weather conditions in July 1924 prompted the following vivid reminder of civil war slaughters: the peals of thunder & flashes of lightening [erased: flash] darting here & ther[e] brings to my mind the fierce battles faught between the National & Republican arms. The the terrible conflicts were fierce on both sides. The ambushes were more horrible. Many a fine man & comrades of my own were cut down like grass & don’t think for a moment that old Ireland is finally settled yet. There are plenty eager & watching for a new fight and to strive and get the British back to power. I’m glad it is the British pays me my coffers. (Hu 5)

Between 1920 and 1921 in County Sligo fourteen R.I.C. officers were killed in ambushes, a comparatively small loss of crown force life compared with other counties.17 Prominent political personalities during the period also featured in Robert Hughes’s correspondence. In November 1924, he explained to his son Thomas: I will not trouble you about the Country & how it stands as the Connaughtman I am sending will fully explain our attitude some & ex[c]ept that Devalar [de Valera] is arrested every time he crosses the Border into northern Ireland & Mary McSweeney [MacSwiney] another of his supporters gets so many searchings and tumblings about that I really believe she is beginning to like it. Nothing will do us now but a sound Republic North & South. Well many say thats the stuff to give them but all I have to say is they have not got it yet. (Hu 7)

Writing in July 1927, a month after elections, Robert remarked, ‘I dare say yous saw the news of our General Election. Well the Republicans &c outvoted the Goverment party by long odds. Still they would not take the oath and got chucked out like dogs and the Goverment with President Cosgrove [Cosgrave] as head formed the new Goverment and will carry on for five years more’ (Hu 11). Eight months later, Robert told Thomas in Auckland that ‘The President of this State had a great tour through America & Canada. He got a great reception ever[y] where. The Government is working well here now’ (Hu 12). By contrast, the absence of discussion about these tumultuous events among correspondents in New Zealand mirrors Malcolm Campbell’s suggestion that ‘Irish-Australian response to developments in Ireland was throughout the period always more constrained and timid than that found among Irish

17 Farry, The aftermath of revolution, p. 15. Figures for crown force deaths in other counties during this period are: Cork 190, Dublin 163, Tipperary 114, and Mayo 40.

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immigrant communities in the United States’. 18 Indeed, to date, only one small band of republicans in New Zealand actively championing the use of violence to further the Irish cause has been identified and examined. 19 Several explanations are posited by Malcolm Campbell for the lack of political consciousness in Australia, including the anti-nationalist character of early Irish roots in Australia, English Benedictine influence over the Catholic Church, distance from the homeland, and the fact that the Irish were participants in the British Empire.20 A relative lack of Irish political leadership, the ambivalent position of the Catholic Church in New Zealand on Irish nationalist matters, and the perception that political activity was seen to be a challenge to the prevailing ethos in New Zealand seem also to explain a lack of involvement there with Ireland’s political scene.21 The absence of obvious manifestations of nationalist agitation among Irish migrants in New Zealand may well explain why Irish correspondents there failed to echo the sense of exile, dislocation, and anti-British sentiment prevalent in much Irish–American discourse. The diverse and informative accounts of Irish issues, from the pens of male and female, Catholic and Protestant correspondents in Ireland stand in striking contrast with the relative silence of their migrant recipients and their counterparts writing to Australia who ‘seldom touched on public events or expressed political opinions’.22 Several explanations can be posited for this divergence. One possibility is that unlike Fitzpatrick’s collection this study draws upon a greater pool of letters sent from Ireland to New Zealand. Another explanation is the relative youth of those correspondents writing from Ireland to New Zealand. Apart from Robert Hughes who was in his seventies and Kate Keane in her fifties, the other writers were no older than 46, with the median age being 29. Most correspondents writing from Ireland to Australia, by contrast, were parents older than 50. Then again, it may simply be that Irish men and women writing to New Zealand were more prone to write during periods of unease in Ireland, or were preoccupied with such events. How did commentary on international affairs compare? As with Irish–Australian correspondents, comments relating to international matters in the letters exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand

18 Malcolm Campbell, ‘Emigrant responses to war and revolution, 1914–21: Irish opinion in the United States and Australia’ in Irish Historical Studies, xxxii (2000–2001), p. 76. 19 Seán Brosnahan, ‘“Shaming the shoneens”: the Green Ray and the Maoriland Irish society in Dunedin, 1916–22’ in Lyndon Fraser (ed.), A distant shore: Irish migration and New Zealand settlement (Dunedin, 2000), pp 117–34. 20 Campbell, ‘Irish nationalism’, pp 33–5. 21 See for instance Seán Brosnahan, ‘Parties or politics: Wellington’s IRA, 1922–1928’, pp 67–87 and Rory Sweetman, ‘“How to behave among Protestants”: varieties of Irish Catholic leadership in colonial New Zealand’ in Brad Patterson (ed.), The Irish in New Zealand: historical contexts and perspectives (Wellington, 2002), pp 89–101. 22 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 557.

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were concerned with wars.23 In 1859, prior to his enlistment in the colonial army, John Armstrong solemnly lamented, What a dreadful state things seem to be in on the continent. Nothing but wars and rumours of war. From what I have heard today it seems that Austria is likely to lose her footing in Italy and the conclusion of the war proves more favorable to her than the commencement. I hope England will not be obliged to take part in the struggle. (Ar 1)

Commenting on the same conflict from Limerick in 1866, William Lysaght speculated that ‘England will very likely interfere’ (Ly 1). Four years later, George Reid wrote from Belfast, ‘There is little thought of here now but the war on the continent. Our trade at the foundry is good but generally trade is bad because of the war’ (Ki 5). No further comment on international matters appears in the letters exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland until November 1900, when James McIlrath reflected resignedly from Canterbury on contemporary international relations: The old century will soon expire and there is no appearance of Peace on Earth and goodwill to men. Nothing but War and rumers of War. Even here the war Fever raged nothing but Drilling Volenteers and sending Contingents to south Africa. I am doubtful if it was a just war. I feel for those who Fight for Hearth and Home. The Lion found the Boer an ugly customer to deal with and now [erased: all] all the Nations of the Earth almost are having a cut at China and very likely they will qurrell over the spoil. So much for Peace on Earth and goodwill to men. (Il 36)

Unlike these sporadic comments on earlier conflicts, discussion of the First World War featured prominently in many letters sent from Ireland to New Zealand, but rarely in reverse. Maggie Moran in Tipperary, for instance, reported on the enlistment of many local Borrisokane men: A good many chaps from around Borris are gone to the War but no one belonging to us Mai (D.G.). Mick Bennett is home on sick leave. He spent some time in the trenches and Frank joined the Red Cross Society but he won’t have to leave Hospitals. Percy Clarke (Bank) and a Bank Clerk named Roche are joined the ‘Colours’. Jim Power went in the Royal Army med corpse, but he won’t have to leave Ireland. (Fa 5)

Irish support for the British army was evident in some quarters in 1916 when Maggie informed, ‘The Compulsory Bill is not in force in Ireland, but at the same time there are great numbers joined the army’ (Fa 6). Two years later

23

Ibid., p. 559. 219

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Kate Keane wrote from London to her sister Mary Anne in Wellington, conveying her disquiet about the welfare of Mary Anne’s son Ernie: ‘Many an anxious hour I have when I read the news papers. I see the New Zealanders are well in the firing line. I hope & trust dear Ernie will come through alright’ (Ke 10). Though her own sons were too young for enlistment, the involvement in the conflict of sons from both Kate’s emigrant sisters spurred her declaration, ‘One thing I can say our family have given to this War’ (Ke 10). Sarah Reid, Margaret Kilpatrick’s sister-in-law, also reported on her sons’ involvement in the war. She explained from Armagh that one son ‘was sent to England after a years training in Canada and has now been sent out to France just a few days ago. The oldest boy has not been in France except on Transport duty. He was not in the firing line. I dont know if I will see them again’ (Ki 15). The attentiveness of Irish-based correspondents to international conflict, compared with other international events, echoes their interest in struggles in Ireland. New Zealand-based Irish letter writers, by contrast, displayed little interest in Irish or international affairs. Their more immediate preoccupation was domestic political issues in New Zealand. This concern, as we will see, contrasts vividly with what Fitzpatrick has called the ‘Emigrant reticence concerning politics’ in Irish–Australian letters.24 To a large degree, this divergence is attributable to the extensive commentary surrounding the New Zealand Wars and curiosity with the Maori population. As with Irish and international matters, most reports of colonial politics centred on warfare. Conflict with the Maori not only generated widespread alarm among migrants, but also among their friends and family in Ireland. In 1863, at a time when the influx of soldiers was intense, James O’Neill observed from Auckland, ‘They have the country covered over with soldiers militia and volunteers from all parts of Australia Hobart town, Sidney [Sydney], Otago &c I believe 2.500 up to this.’ Known as the ‘Waikato Militia’, these recruits were largely lured by the promise of confiscated Maori land as outlined by James: ‘They are promised 50 acres of the Waikato land when the war is over but they must live 3 years on it before they get a title to it and 100 out of the lot wont do that’ (Ne 1). James O’Neill’s prophecy was fulfilled as only 20 per cent of soldiers who received land grants remained on their land in 1874.25 Most took up their allotments, stayed the obligatory three years to obtain the freehold, and then departed with their families. Two significant battles during the Waikato Wars, at Meremere and Rangiriri, figured in James O’Neill’s only known surviving letter. While Meremere was captured without loss of life to either side, the campaign at Rangiriri three weeks later ‘cost both sides more than any other engagement

24

Ibid., p. 607. James Belich, Making peoples: a history of the New Zealanders from Polynesian settlement to the end of the nineteenth century (Auckland, 1996), p. 386.

25

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of the wars’.26 The battle, which took place on 20 November 1863, resulted in the death of approximately forty-one Maori.27 According to James O’Neill, writing ten days after the engagement, ‘only 50 Maories killed. 200 gave themselfs up prisoners and more escaped. The prisoners was brought to Auckland’ (Ne 1). O’Neill’s general remarks on the conflict at Rangiriri and Meremere was followed by specific mention that ‘Lieut Murphy 12th Regt that was killed is from about Clarina. He might be a son of the coroners. Capt Mercer artillery was in Limk along time. They prevented him giving orders. A ball cut the tongue out of him and broke his jaw’.28 However, the New Zealand Gazette, published on the day of James’s composition, revealed that Mercer’s wound was ‘Dangerous (since dead)’.29 James O’Neill’s informative discussion of the conflict in his letter of 1863 was in part due to his own participation in the conflict. In common with other adult males in Auckland, he underwent compulsory enlistment. Being a wheelwright James was most probably in the Second Class of Militia comprised of business and tradespeople. As he told brother Thomas, they made a militia man of me . . . I got on for night duty one night each week and not to be sent out of the town. . . . I was corporal and if held on longer I was going to be sergeant the week following. We were not drilled. So as we knew how to load and handle our rifles that was enough. We had 60 rounds of ball ca[r]tridge and our bayonets by our side unless when it was fired.

O’Neill seems to have relished the prospect of a Maori assault on Auckland. But relief presumably swamped Auckland residents when alarm bells merely signified a fire rather than Maori attack: All humbug the Maories would not attempt to come into Auckland. They people got a great start one sunday and we all at mass. They alarm bells rung out, (and they was Maories seen the evening before about 15 miles away in their canoes). The Priest stopt mass and all the men got up and left chapels and churches and found a store a fire near the wharf. (Ne 1)

26 James Belich, The New Zealand wars and the Victorian interpretation of racial conflict (Auckland, 1998; 1st ed., 1986), p. 142. 27 This figure is noted in ibid., p. 155. 28 James Belich notes that ‘the 12th, whose part in the battle is rarely referred to by historians, suffered higher proportionate losses than any other unit involved’. See ibid., p. 149. 29 New Zealand Gazette, 30 November 1863, p. 515. Mercer’s brother, Capt A. H. H. Mercer, published books maligning General Cameron. See the profile of Cameron in W. H. Oliver (ed.), The dictionary of New Zealand biography, 1769–1869 (Wellington, 1990), i, 66.

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Although the conflict posed no disruption to residents on the South Island, settlers like the McIlraths remained aware of events unfolding on the North Island, including attempts to enlist soldiers by offering land as bait. Yet the information distributed throughout the colony and abroad was sometimes inaccurate. Hamilton McIlrath’s account of the conflict at Rangiriri in 1863, for example, greatly exaggerated the death toll of the Maori: The Moris In the North Island has Been very troublesom Lately. The More the are civelized the the worse the get Burning Houses and killing the setlers But I think the will be forced to give over soon. The goverment gave grants of Land to all the young Men that would volenter and has raised A force of about three thousand Men Besides 2 thousands from England. The took one of there Pa’s last week and killed 400 natives and took 500 prisoners. The intend to give them A dressing Before they have done with them that the shall Remember. The very Men that the Instructed Most and thought they had made saints of the were the Leaders of the Rebelion. I expect Mother would like to see one of them with there face tattoed and all the Devices you could Imagine painted on then and A Boars Tusk strung to there ear. (Il 8)

Curiosity about the Maori continued and ten years later Hamilton McIlrath sent home a photograph of ‘an old tatooed Moria Chief and a rather well dressed Moria woman’ (Il 19). Presumably his mother’s response differed from that of Robert Hughes, who, upon receipt of a photograph of a Maori chief in 1924, ‘showed him to a few Paddies around here as my uncle. Would you think the though[t] him not a bad looking old man’ (Hu 6). Few correspondents provided physical descriptions of the Maori. But when Michael Flanagan encountered his brother in Australia after several months apart he observed, ‘His appearance would nearly put one in mind of a Maori. The sun of Queensland browned him very much but the climate did not disagree with him.’30 Inevitably, accounts of hostile relations in the colony generated concern in Ireland and several letters were sent home throughout the 1860s to reassure home readers of the migrant’s safety. In 1863, for instance, James McIlrath in Canterbury calmly advised that ‘There is great talk of the Mowrie war but we have nothing of it here’ (Il 7). Likewise, William Oliver in Australia assuaged his niece’s fears that her brother Oliver was at risk in the disturbances: ‘You may rest content as far as the war is conserned. He is not near it. New Zealand is composed of several ilands such as Scotland and Ireland and there is no war

30

Michael Flanagan (Australia) to his uncle Richard Flanagan (Louth), 18 February 1865, in John Murphy and Donald Murphy, The Flanagan letters, 1864–1909: a transcript of the correspondence of the Flanagan family of Tobertoby, Termonfeckin, Drogheda, Co. Louth (1997). 222

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in the iland that he is in. He is in Otago and the war in Au[c]kland.’31 From Southland, Gordon McClure informed his sisters in Belfast, ‘We have no connection with the War in this Island whatever as the Maoris here are too poor & never were warlike. There are several villages close at hand but they don’t come much among the white men’ (Ce 4). Of course, not all North Island Maori were hostile either. Margaret Kilpatrick, for instance, discussed her amicable interactions with urban Maori at Otahuhu following her arrival there in 1862 (Ki 1). Letters from Ireland also reveal that the Maori generated interest there. In 1869 William Lysaght compared their endeavours with Fenian aims: I wish the Maories every success. Take care. Join no party [erased: to] to fight against them. They are the same as Irish men fighting for the[ir] own Land. Twas a regul[ar] Humbug the way their land were confiscated. Again I say to you do not fight again[st] them – help them if you wish. I have it on good authority that they are assisted by many Irishmen. (Ly 2)

Such examples of Irish–Maori solidarity are rare, though there is evidence that Fenian supporters occasionally supplied Maori with ammunition and that some men fighting with Maori were likely to have Fenian sympathies.32 The Irish nationalist press in Ireland also drew analogies between Irish and Maori oppression.33 Such parallels have prompted one commentator to suggest, ‘Perhaps because they share a history of oppression and land loss, and have both been the butt of racist jokes, the Maori and Irish in New Zealand have long identified with one another.’34 Despite some Irish support for Maori claims, many more Irish enlisted in contingents of the colonial and imperial forces to fight against the Maori. As Donald Akenson has indicated, the Irish were active participants in the British empire as soldiers, administrators, clergy, and settlers.35 One Irish correspondent active in the military was Roscommon native John Armstrong, a captain in the Taranaki Militia. His three letters provide lengthy and articulate accounts of the views he held towards the Maori population of New Zealand. Such impressions were inevitably influenced by his upbringing as a Church of Ireland minister’s son and the family’s long military tradition,

31

William McSparron (Australia) to his niece (Londonderry), 22 March 1864, P.R.O.N.I., T/2743/1/11. 32 Belich, Making peoples, p. 243. 33 Davis, Irish issues in New Zealand politics, p. 21. 34 Anna Rogers, A lucky landing: the story of the Irish in New Zealand (Auckland, 1996), p. 92. See also Nicholas Evan Reid, The bishop’s paper (Auckland, 2000), p. 13 for similar perceived parallels between Irish and Maori matters held by the New Zealand Freeman’s Journal. 35 See especially Chapter 6 in Donald Harman Akenson, The Irish diaspora, a primer (Belfast, 1996). 223

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as well as his involvement in the conflict in New Zealand. The first civilian blood was spilled at Omata in March 1860 when five settlers were ambushed and killed. Following the incident, the Taranaki Volunteer Rifles were joined by ‘some volunteers from the Omata stockade, under Lieutenant Armstrong, Militia, and Lieutenant McNaughten, R. A. with their assistance we drove the Natives out of sight into a straggling and slight line of cover’. 36 The resulting raids meant that John’s land, one and a half miles from Omata, was one of several properties listed as being affected by the wars.37 Though the unrest in Taranaki eased from March 1861 until May 1863, tensions remained in the Militia. One commentator has argued that a feeling of supremacy existed among the volunteers as they were not conscripted like the Militia.38 Feelings of supremacy were not confined to military factions. European settlers tended to echo the view of the Taranaki Herald which queried in February 1858, ‘Are we, the sons of the greatest nation of the earth for ever to knuckle under to a parcel of savages?’39 Armstrong’s opinions on the subject were most clearly imparted following Bishop Selwyn’s visit to Taranaki in 1861 in which Selwyn promoted Sir George Grey’s proposal for a new system of government.40 While Armstrong indicated that the Maori appeared amenable to the proposal, the settlers were reluctant to make peace without a guarantee ‘that a repetition of the two last years’ events will not take place before they will again risk either their property or their lives’. Armstrong concluded ominously, The more I think on the subject the more I am convinced that the perfect subjection of the Maori race to our rule is the only means humanly speaking of effecting a permanent peace with them. Let them find out the uselessness of prolonging the struggle with us and they will be more careful in future in taking up arms against us and more anxious to submit to our terms of peace. (Ar 2)

John Armstrong also indicated that the local paper believed Taranaki’s ‘insignificance and surf would prove sufficient protection for her’ (Ar 1). It 36

W. J. Penn, The Taranaki rifle volunteers: a corps with a history (New Plymouth, 1909), p. 16. 37 W. I. Grayling, The war in Taranaki during the years 1860–61 (New Plymouth, 1862), p. 108. Belich, in The New Zealand wars, p. 106, has indicated that around 200 Taranaki farms were destroyed or ruined by the end of the war. 38 A. M. Dobbin, ‘New Plymouth society during the Taranaki land wars, 1859–69’, M.A. Research Essay, University of Auckland, 1977, p. 36. 39 Taranaki Herald, 13 February 1858, cited in ibid., p. 16. 40 This proposal involved a measure of Maori self-government. Debate exists as to whether it was genuine or a smokescreen to conceal preparations for war. For accounts of George Grey’s life see Edmund Bohan, To be a hero: Sir George Grey, 1812–1898 (Auckland, 1998), and J. Rutherford, Sir George Grey 1812–1898: a study in colonial government (London, 1961). For Selwyn see Warren E. Limbrick (ed.), Bishop Selwyn in New Zealand, 1841–68 (Palmerston North, 1983). 224

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was a view echoed by new arrivals, whose comments on the town’s small size ‘reinforced this feeling of insignificance’, exacerbated by the town’s physical isolation and infrequent communications.41 Though peace eventually came to Taranaki, the Wanganui campaign generated scathing comments about General Cameron, including John Armstrong’s observation that ‘General Cameron has not gained many laurels either for himself or the troops under him by his Wanganui Campaign’ (Ar 3). Criticism of Cameron was widespread, with later commentators attributing this to his incompetence, lethargy, fear, and moral doubts. James Belich has queried such claims and suggested that Cameron’s reluctance in the Wanganui campaign stemmed from his experience of the Waikato Wars.42 Indeed, Belich has portrayed Cameron as ‘A good tactician, a very good strategist, and a superb organiser’.43 Quite possibly, the impact of the disturbances in New Zealand may have contributed to greater domestic political concern among the Irish who settled in New Zealand as opposed to Australia. But, the fact that warfare offered a sensational topic for inclusion in correspondence may have guaranteed the survival of these letters. The Maori were the most prominent racial group to feature in Irish– New Zealand correspondence. Other groups were occasionally mentioned but mainly in relation to the voyage. David McCullough mentioned a Scotsman at the outset of his migration while James McIlrath discussed Germans and other migrants ‘of every creed contry and clime’ who were voyaging to Australia (Cu 2; Il 1, 2). Alice Gilmore’s account of her voyage featured English, Scottish, and French crew (Ge 5). John O’Regan, reported in 1899, ‘The colonists all white except for a few Niggers and chinese [erased: and] are composed of all races just like your population. The tastes and habits of both people are much alike’ (Rn 1). During his return to Ireland in 1925 Philip Carroll reported on ‘niggers, Chinese & Japanese with a fair sprinkling of Yanks’ at Colon (Cl 4). These reports show similarity with their Irish– Australian counterparts who likewise discussed a range of races.44 Before the early 1870s New Zealand’s provincial and central governments operated side by side.45 With the removal of central government from Auckland to Wellington in 1864 John Armstrong declared that the editor of the Southern Cross, in conjunction with

41

Dobbin, ‘New Plymouth society’, p. 17. Belich, The New Zealand wars, pp 206–7. 43 The Dictionary of New Zealand biography, i, p. 66. 44 The following ‘races’ were mentioned in Irish–Australian letters: English, Scottish, French, German, Italians, Chinese, Turks, Yankees, Blacks, Jews, and Gentiles. See Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, pp 612–13. 45 See W. P. Morrell, The provincial system in New Zealand, 1856–76 (London, 1932). 42

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the Auckland public, seems to be a little beside himself with indignation at the idea of the Seat of Government being removed to Wellington. Were it still at Auckland no doubt his view of the matter would be very different. The other Provinces seem to view matters in a much more cheerful light and I think with reason. (Ar 3)

Auckland’s inhabitants undoubtedly had good cause for alarm as the removal of central government contributed to a downswing in the city’s prosperity. The benefit of government to a city was emphasised two decades later when William Cardwell explained attempts by citizens of Canterbury to have the government relocated to Christchurch ‘and if they only succeed it will help this City very much’ (Ca 1). The provincial divisions of New Zealand were highlighted in 1865 when James McClure informed his sister in Belfast that ‘Southland is a Province of which Invercargill is the Capital. Otago is another Province of which Dunedin is the Capital. With the latter Province or Capital we have nothing to do’ (Ce 5). The separation, however, was short-lived. By the end of the decade Southland was bankrupt and eventually reunited with Otago in 1871. James McClure’s familiarity with the provincial system was presumably enhanced by his own political ambitions, which he outlined to his sister in 1865, five years after his arrival in the colony: I was beaten 10 months ago for the seat for this district in the Provincial Council, But now have been called [u]pon to stand for this County, for the House of Representatives. The requisition [erased: has to] calling on me to become a candidate has been numerously signed by former opponents, & by the Gentleman who proposed my opponent for the Provincial Council, 10 month ago. I consider I have a good chance to be returned, but will let you know the result of the election which promises to be sharply contested as I oppose one of the big wigs. (Ce 5)

James McClure never gained a seat in the House of Representatives. In 1867, however, he was elected to the Provincial Council for Southland. Only one other migrant in this study, Hamilton Gilmer, entered the national political arena. However, several migrants were politically active in their local district. Hamilton McIlrath, for instance, ‘secured a seat though competition was great’ on the local school committee and at that time, 1882, had ‘for the Last nine years been at the head of the poll as a member of the road Bord never was defieted’ (Il 30). Hamilton McIlrath was also a member of the Cemetery and Domain Board and on the Farmers Union. The Gilmore brothers also pursued political ambitions. While Andrew was an unsuccessful candidate for the council elections,46 John was elected to a seat on the Tauranga Borough Council in 1894. According to the Cyclopedia,

46

A. C. Bellamy (ed.), Tauranga, 1882–1982 (Tauranga, 1982), p. 26. 226

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John Gilmore was ‘always to the fore in all matters pertaining to the welfare of the district, and has frequently been requested by the ratepayers to stand for election’.47 John Gilmore also served for thirty-five years on the management committee of the Presbyterian Church.48 In 1891 the Liberal Party was installed as New Zealand’s first party government and so began a democratic style of politics. It has been suggested that this ‘“Democracy” had no enemies in New Zealand and met with minimal resistance or even criticism.’49 But colonial politics had at least one critic, in the form of Alexander McKelvey, recently arrived from County Tyrone. In 1904, a year after his arrival, Alexander confessed, ‘I know nothing of N. Z. politics but from all I can learn there is a good deal of the Tammany System in them’ (Ky 1). Tammany Hall, headquarters of the American Democratic Party in New York, possessed strong Irish Catholic connotations and was renowned for corruption. Writing from Auckland, McKelvey’s comment may reflect his perception of a strong Irish Catholic participation in politics in that city. Or he may have been alluding to the practice of dispensing favours for votes. The ‘Liberal era’ continued until 1912 at which time the Reform Party came to office. The following year industrial conflict erupted and, once again, Alexander McKelvey gave his opinion: We had a pretty bad time here with the strike . . . but the farmers formed themselves into regiments of special constables and 1600 came down and took charge of the city under the Police Inspector and the strikers have been afraid to whisper ever since. We had a lot of local special constables but they were all on foot while the farmers have all got horses & are splendid horsemen. (Ky 3)

These constables were known as ‘Massey’s Cossacks’, after William Ferguson Massey who held the office of Prime Minister from 1912 until his death in 1925.50 When Philip Carroll learned of his demise, he remarked from Tipperary, ‘Poor old Bill Massey lingered on a good while and so did not die to suit the Mack boys. Hard luck!’ (Cl 6). The period after World War I has largely been considered as the time when a sense of New Zealand identity emerged. Yet for some correspondents a sense of colonial difference was apparent much earlier. Alexander McKelvey, for instance, disparaged the colonials when in 1904 he claimed, ‘I think it is

47

Cyclopedia of New Zealand, ii, 396. See his obituary in New Zealand Herald, 22 July 1921, p. 6. 49 David Hamer, ‘Centralization and nationalism, 1891–1912’ in Keith Sinclair (ed.), The Oxford illustrated history of New Zealand (Auckland, 1996; 1st ed., 1990), p. 132. 50 For Massey see W. J. Gardner, William Massey (Wellington, 1969), and D. Christine Massey, The life of Rt. Hon. W. F. Massey P.C., L.L.D: Prime Minister of New Zealand, 1912–1925 (Auckland, 1996). 48

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the Colonials themselves who are different. They are not so decent as people at home. They are always very friendly & Hail-fellow-well-met, but they would not go very far to do their neighbour a good turn if it at all interfered with their comfort’ (Ky 1). The first reference to ‘New Zealanders’ in the letters, however, appears in 1918 when Kate Keane had ‘Many an anxious hour’ reading the newspapers as ‘the New Zealanders are well in the firing line’ (Ke 10). For some correspondents, it was language that set the colonials apart. Kate Keane alluded to the colony’s distinct vernacular when she claimed that her sister Mary’s son Ernie ‘well tutored John his language’ (Ke 11). In a 1911 letter to his brother Patrick in Tipperary, Michael Farrell admitted to being ‘fairly colonised now’ as ‘I have lots of Colonial slang’ (Fa 1). He then rattled off a list of four-letter expletives. Brigid Dawson, on the other hand, drew similarities between the Irish and New Zealand styles of talking: ‘The people here are awful well educated and can tell there story so nice but there talk is very plain. Just like ourselves. No bother to understand’ (Da 1). John O’Regan, meanwhile, drew similarities between the colonial and American ways of speaking: the conversation is very nearl and like the Yankees. They will call the Cock a ‘rooster’. However this play upon a proper name night be put down as a vulgarism, which it really is. It was Noah Webster that first applied this word to a Cock but why not call the[erased: m] hen a rooster as well or the gander a rooster goose?!! or the cock turkey a rooster turkey. (Rn 1)

Philip Carroll’s Irish accent may well have been altered in the thirteen years he spent in New Zealand prior to his brief visit to Ireland in 1925. According to Philip, ‘I thought I had a bit of an Irish accent but no they tell me I talk just like a Yank and have lost all trace of the brogue’ (Cl 5). Other correspondents referred not to an Irish accent, but the Irish language. John O’Regan, in his typically ebullient style, emphasised the attributes of the Irish tongue: ‘Our language so much despised by ignorant blockheads is “soft as a Mothers smile” rich in everything the scholar requires and the most copious in the world. Difficult it is true to learn, but worth the trouble to acquire and the best for music on account of the soft vowel sounds’ (Rn 1). The only Irish phrase to appear in the letters, however, featured in Cecilia Coghlan’s letter to her step-daughter Ellen Anne Edwards whom she promised a ‘cead mile failte’ (Cg 1) should she return to Ireland. For some correspondents, Irishness equated to a tendency to boast. Margaret Kilpatrick was perhaps refuting her own habit of embellishment when she declared in 1903, ‘God has blessed me with good children. Every bodey says the are models. This is no Ireish blow, but a fact’ (Ki 13). For other correspondents Irishness equated to hospitality. In 1905, more than forty years after her arrival in New Zealand, Margaret Kilpatrick reassured her brother, ‘I will be very pleased to see any one who may have had the 228

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pleasure of seeing you or any one of the folk in or about Armagh & will give them a hearty welcome’ (Ki 14). Philip Carroll certainly received a rousing reception when he returned to Tipperary in 1925: ‘I was not home an hour when cousin called up to see me and brought me a little present of two bottles champagne and a bottle of port wine. Heavens Nina the Irish are ten times more hospitable than ever I thought they were and that is saying something’ (Cl 5). Irishness, however, also generated disparaging remarks.51 Upon learning of the slaying of goldminer Patrick Kirk on New Zealand’s West Coast, Richard Flanagan commiserated with his brother Michael (Fl 13): I quite agree with you in what you say of our own people. When good there are none better in the world. When bad none worse, if any indeed can equal them in wickedness. There is an immence mass of rubish and nonsense written consequently by scribblers in poetry and prose about the virtues of Irish men and women but any one who has an extended acquaintance with the world must know that they are no better than others. No doubt at home the majority are virtuous and well conducted – other people are so also, but when the Irish go abroad it happens that if they fall away, or if they have brought vices with them they excel all others in the excess of wickedness. I know that in this city of London there is no class wor[s]e or more profilgate that the vicious Irish of either sex and so it is in all the cities of the United States and I suppose in the colonies.

A less sinister, but also a negative feature, in the portrayal of Irishness was a lack of sophistication. Following criticism of his sister, arising from the cool welcome she afforded the returned migrant, Philip Carroll altered his opinion and admitted, ‘The mistake I made was to expect Nance to be like the average unsophisticated Irish girl when she could not possibly be so considering she has been over 17 years in England. She is cool and undemonstrative but withal she is most sincere’ (Cl 8). The alleged lack of sophistication in Ireland is also evident in William Quinn’s admonition of his nephew’s writing conventions: It might bee the way they address in Ireland but it [omitted: is] not so in New Zealand. I expected better from Bernard. I care nothing about myself but it makes very little of Mr Sheath a gentle man of very high standing in auckland. . . . Mr Sheath must think the people I communicate with in Ireland must be very much behind the times. (Qu 5)

51 For a study of Irish stereotypes, positive and negative, in New Zealand see Alitia Lynch, ‘“Drunken, dissipated, and immoral”: perceptions of Irish immigrants to New Zealand, 1868–1918’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1997.

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William Quinn was just as scandalised by his brother’s drinking habits, although he did not equate this with Irishness, as John Strong did at the opening of this chapter. In 1907 William Quinn recommended that it would be best if his nephew Robert Jenkins avoided visiting Patrick, as Patrick might get drunk and if a old age pentioner is brought up twice before a maestrate [magistrate] for drunkness they loose their pention and Pat has been before one for drunkness so he has only another chance left him. It would be a bad thing for him to loose £26 a year. I give Bob Pat address and told him if he went to see him to be sure and see that he got no drink. (Qu 5)

James O’Neill displayed similar concern for his brother Patrick in Ireland in 1863: ‘If Patt had not constant work in Limk I am shure he would do well here provided he would keep from drink’ (Ne 1). Mothers also expressed concern about the drinking habits of their sons. When Catherine Colgan in Antrim learned of her son’s indulgence in alcohol, she wrote resignedly, ‘I am so sorry about Johnny falling into drink and him knowing better.’ She was relieved, though, that both her sons-in-law remained sober: ‘I am so glad that her husband is so good and does not take none of that curesed drink. . . . I hope Charles is not inclined to drink for it is the downfall of all men for it is destroy both body and soul’ (Co 5). The ill-effects of alcohol abuse were also noted by Philip Carroll who criticised colonial acquaintances affected by drink: ‘He is an unfortunate wretch alright and a fine example of the trouble booze will get a man into’ (Cl 17). Yet Philip could sympathise: ‘I was very sorry but not altogether surprized to hear about Jim Hendry and his wife being separated. The wonder to me is that his wife put up with him for so long. Jim is a fine fellow only for the booze and that has got him well under unfortunately’ (Cl 20). Other acquaintances earned Philip Carroll’s fulsome praise: ‘I was indeed pleased to learn that Jim Holt is still off the drink. It is indeed truly wonderful to have him stay off it for such a long time’ (Cl 21). As for his own drinking habits, Philip explained that a local Irish doctor ‘advised me not to drink stout but that if I felt like a stimulant to take whiskey well diluted with water. Whiskey is 1/8d per glass in this country so needless to say I have not imbibed any of his medicine’ (Cl 18). In most instances where liquor was discussed at length in the colony, then, its negative impact took precedence over its conviviality. Moreover, the extent of Irish–New Zealand anxiety about alcohol outweighed similar concerns expressed in other editions of Irish correspondence.52

52

In Irish–New Zealand correspondence the negative aspect of alcohol featured 14 times in 7 sequences. In David Fitzpatrick’s Oceans of consolation, a ‘decorous silence’ was maintained in letters from Ireland to Australia while emigrant correspondents condemned alcohol in 7 extracts in 4 sequences, pp 544, 582. 230

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Catholic clergy were also dismayed at the drinking habits of their colonial Irish Catholic flock. Bishop T. W. Croke attributed the problem to the traditional Irish practice of treating and implored, I would urge all my countrymen to stop once, and for ever, the custom of treating. If necessary I would pledge them never to give or take a treat. I fancy this would check an immense amount of unhappy drunkenness, which arises not from an Irishman’s love of drink, but from his love of hospitality and good fellowship.53

Unlike the personal letters sent between Ireland and Australia, which indicate that ‘the menace of alcoholism seemed not “inherent” but environmental’,54 the reverse applies in the case of Irish–New Zealand correspondence. At the outset of his cousin’s departure John Strong implored Daniel to be vigilant against drunkenness which he considered a ‘curse’ of Irishmen (St 2). John’s brother Martin also offered Daniel his thoughts on the subject. As with William Quinn and James O’Neill, Martin Strong equated sobriety with success and attributed both his and his family’s financial prosperity to avoiding the temptations of alcohol: We bought land to the amount of £500 and gave Margaret a fortune of two hundred pounds. Could we do it if drinking. I say no. So you see drink is the ruin of the world. I thank God for myself I never drank any sort of liquor and during my old College days I had many temptations to fight in that line but overcame them all. (St 3)

So enormous was the concern that Daniel Strong avoid the temptations of alcohol that Martin vigorously cautioned, ‘I always heard the strongs had one misfortune and that was liquor and when one of their name commences they cannot stop so the only remedy when they know that is to shun it’ (St 3). The Strongs of Tipperary not only issued warnings to their cousin but also discussed neighbours afflicted with alcoholism. ‘Your old boss is still alive but I am afraid he is going to kill himself from the hard stuff’, divulged Martin Strong. Tragic events may have swayed some to seek comfort or escape in alcohol: ‘Jack Carrolls wife is also dead & he wont be long there himself. He has turned completely to liquor’ (St 3, 5). Although the Strongs made no mention of temperance movements, the Keane letters from Waterford reveal the existence of the county’s temperance societies.55 In 1886 John Keane confessed to his sister Mary that

53

A Century’s Roll of Honour, p. 10, photocopy at A.C.D.A. Fitzpatrick, ‘That beloved country’, p. 344. 55 Temperance and intemperance in Ireland is surveyed in Elizabeth Malcolm, ‘Ireland sober, Ireland free’: drink and temperance in nineteenth-century Ireland (Dublin, 1986). For the 54

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for some time past I squandered & raked about for many a week & month from place to place through means of ye forgetting us here at home as much as ye did sat me nearly out of my mind but now that I have changed & I am temperate for a long time to come perhaps for life. James & Maurice are joined also. The have a temperance society got up in Clashmore & are getting up a band there at present. (Ke 2)

John seemingly resisted alcoholic temptation but his brother James succumbed. As John Keane expressed with frustration from Chicago in 1910, ‘Br Jim was arround here 2 years ago. He is worse than ever. Will do nothing but drink’ (Ke 7). In similar vein Michael Farrell expressed sorrow that ‘Stan is boozing again. He will scarcely ever give it up’ (Fa 1). Protestant correspondents also viewed intemperance with dismay. In Armagh, George Reid was obliged to defend himself in response to a letter from his sister Margaret Kilpatrick who had been informed by recent arrivals from Armagh that George was inclined to drink. Clearly offended, George indignantly responded, ‘I have not myself yet acquired the love of strong drink. I really dont care for it. I never [word illegible] any possibility taste anything of any description till after my tea in the evening. . . . I can assure you that I am and always have been a sober man’ (Ki 8). Alice Gilmore also remarked from Auckland in 1876 that alcohol ‘made every thing run cont[r]ary in our old home’ (Ge 5). These extracts reveal that Irish correspondents writing to New Zealand certainly did not share the silence of their counterparts writing to Australia about the menace of alcohol.56 Correspondents also acknowledged the divergences in their affiliations to place in Ireland. Alice Gilmore, for instance, revealed that her fellow passengers on the Bebington were mainly ‘South of Ireland the roughest & worst class of people I am sure ever come here before & nearly all R. C’ (Ge 5). Her brother John, meanwhile, reported on the settlement at Katikati of Ulster Protestants: ‘there is a Large settlement of North of Ireland people about from 10 to 25 miles from here. The are called Stewarts settlers’ (Ge 6). John Strong recounted from Tipperary in 1905, ‘Police from this place was down in the North in Lurgan when a fine old man came up and asked was there Tipperery men there’ (St 6). As with their counterparts across the Tasman Sea, New Zealand’s Ulster Protestants used the phrase ‘North of Ireland’ rather than ‘Ulster’ in their correspondence.57

early temperance movement in County Waterford see Donnchadh Ó Ceallacháin, ‘The temperance movements in Waterford, 1839 to 1841’ in Waterford Archaeological and Historical Journal, lii (1996), pp 57–91. 56 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 544. 57 David Fitzpatrick, ‘“That beloved country, that no place else resembles”: connotations of Irishness in Irish–Australasian letters, 1841–1915’ in Irish Historical Studies, xxvii (1991), p. 329. 232

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The letters exchanged between New Zealand and Ireland also indicate the keen sense of Irishness felt by Irish Protestants. Roscommon-born John Armstrong, reflecting on an almost unpronounceable place name that has not been identified, declared, ‘If I were not a thoroughbred Paddy I could hardly get my tongue round it’ (Ar 2). Margaret Kilpatrick also declared herself to be an ‘Irish woman’ (Ki 1). She also highlighted her son’s ethnicity: ‘They Captain on board ship used to send down porter to me and say it was for they mother of “that fine little Irish man”’(Ki 1). John Gilmore, contemplating the passengers who had died during the Bebington’s voyage to New Zealand, concluded it was ‘very hard when our fellow passengers and country men were going overboard so often . . . . But strange to say they that died were Irish’ (Ge 6). Babies born in New Zealand were also accorded Irish ethnicity. As Robert Hughes boasted from Sligo in 1924, ‘You know Tommie I am a proud old Grandfather now, seeing I have three Grandsons & all Roberts (Hughes, Stewart & Reynolds). Yous just gave the little Irishman a nice name & I think he is just heavy enough loaded’ (Hu 4). These extracts reveal a strong sense of Irishness among Irish Protestants. Similarly, Patrick O’Farrell found in letters from Irish-Australia that Irish Protestants ‘were firmly and intensely Irish and proud of it’.58 This contrasts with contemporary surveys in which Protestants were more likely to identify themselves with Ulster or Britain. Such identification may be a consequence of the ‘Troubles’, but is also likely to be the result of sophisticated questionnaires relating to issues of identity.59 Few commentators have recognised the Irishness of Irish Protestants. Evidence, however, shows that for many Irish Protestants their ethnicity was never in question. A study of Irish-born Moore Richard Neligan, Anglican bishop of Auckland between 1903 and 1910, is particularly noteworthy in this regard. Though Neligan’s own perceptions of his Irish ethnicity have been unexplored, associates certainly emphasised his Irishness. ‘He is a typical Irishman, with all the Irish humour and bonhomie’, reported a New Zealand paper in 1902.60 Following Neligan’s death in 1922, acquaintances continued to emphasise his Irish birth. According to George Cruickshank, ‘he was too strong a man for some, too typical an Irishman for others’ 61 Mary Pulling, headmistress of a private girls’ school in Auckland, mused, ‘And down underneath the gaiety, lay the Celtic spirituality, simple, deep, sincere, almost

58

Patrick O’Farrell, Letters from Irish Australia, 1825–1929 (Kensington, 1984), p. 5. See also Fitzpatrick, ‘“That beloved country”’, p. 333. 59 See John Whyte, Interpreting Northern Ireland (Oxford, 1990), pp 67–71. 60 Cited in J. S. G. Cameron, ‘The episcopate of Moore Richard Neligan, bishop of Auckland, 1903–1910’, S.Th. thesis, St John’s College, 1973, p. 17. 61 Address given at Diocesan High School speech day, 1922, in The first fifty years, pp 20–1. Cited in ibid., p. 201. 233

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terrible in its matter-of-fact directness and uncompromising demand of your uttermost for God.’62 Unlike North America, where emphasis on an Irish Catholic identity fostered Irish nationalism, Irish Catholics in New Zealand highlighted Irishness to preserve the Catholic faith. ‘Blot from an Irishman’s heart the traditional love that links him to the spot where he first saw the light’, wrote one commentator in 1885, ‘and you pluck from his soul the seeds of his Catholic faith.’63 Hugh Laracy’s biography of Bishop Patrick Moran has also identified that ‘consciousness of being Irish was seen by Moran as an important element in the religion of his flock’.64 This focus on the laity’s Irish heritage, Rory Sweetman argues, ‘could stiffen them against the dangers of mixed marriages, laxness and apostasy’.65 The exploration of Irish and colonial politics in Irish–New Zealand letters supplies additional support for Malcolm Campbell’s identification of a divergent Irish nationalism in Australasia, compared with the United States. Correspondents in New Zealand rarely commented on Irish issues. Instead, domestic affairs took precedence. The primary political identification of Irish letter writers in New Zealand was not therefore with nationalist or unionist Ireland, but with New Zealand. This involvement with New Zealand’s political affairs rather than Ireland’s reinforces Campbell’s suggestion that the new rather than old homeland was more influential in nurturing the nationalist impulse. In the United States, Campbell points out, Irish nationalism was strong and not ‘a norm of Irish emigrant experience of their compatriots in other parts of the world’.66 Irish nationalism in Australia, on the other hand, was weak due to a number of factors including distance and Irish involvement in the British empire.67 Similar factors, along with its greater Irish Protestant population, lack of Irish political leadership, and ambivalence of New Zealand’s Catholic Church towards Irish nationalism, presumably prevented the emergence of widespread Irish nationalist affiliation in New Zealand. Nevertheless, Irish migrant correspondents remained keenly aware of events taking place in Ireland, primarily due to the letters sent by their Irish-based family and friends. These reports reveal that letter writers in Ireland maintained and voiced considerable interest in the political developments affecting

62

Diocesan High School Chronicle, xxvii (December 1922), p. 36, cited in ibid., p. 109. New Zealand Freeman’s Journal, 7 August 1885, p. 11. 64 Hugh M. Laracy, ‘The life and context of bishop Patrick Moran’, M.A. thesis, Victoria University Wellington, 1964, p. 122. This Bishop Moran is not known to be related to Archbishop Patrick Moran of Sydney. 65 Rory Matthew Sweetman, ‘New Zealand Catholicism, war, politics, and the Irish issue, 1912–1922’, Ph.D. thesis, University of Cambridge, 1990, p. 71. 66 Campbell, ‘Irish nationalism and immigrant assimilation’, p. 38. 67 Ibid., p. 35. 63

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their country. Their reports of insurrection in Ireland were echoed in their discussion of international conflict. Moreover, their concern with both Irish and international political matters contrasts with the writings of their New Zealand-based recipients, who remained relatively silent on such issues. So too did Irish correspondents writing to Australia generally fail to discuss these matters.68 For most Irish migrant correspondents, their identity was not tied to Irish nationalism. Rather, their Irishness evoked a range of positive and negative images, tied primarily to language, hospitality, and alcohol. The Catholic Church played a major role in nurturing Irish identity among Catholics in New Zealand, and the following chapter explores the other contributions it made to its flock.

68

Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 557. 235

9

‘Out of darkness into light’ The importance of faith In July 1897, 60-year-old Margaret Anne Kilpatrick recalled that she had been 22 years of age ‘when God called me out of darkness into light, in the midst of the great revival of 1859’. The event, she recollected vividly, took place on 5 July 1859 in the first Presbyterian church at Keady, County Armagh, under Dr Carson’s ministry. ‘I was trying to lead some to God’, Margaret later wrote, ‘when an old woman came & put her hand on my shoulder & said to me have you found Christ, yourself?’ At that point, Margaret claimed to have heard Christ’s voice and ‘I cried for mercie & the first thing I knew was I was standing on my feet singing the 103 Ps.’ Inspired and exhilarated, Margaret ‘became fearless, & I spoke to everyone about their souls, & held prayer meettings every where’. Two of her brothers were also converted that day, following two others who had already met spiritual salvation. Given the extent of this unbridled evangelical revival in the Reid household it was no surprise that ‘dear Mother was rejoycing in God with all her house’.1 The Reids were just one of many Protestant families in Ulster who experienced a religious frenzy during the ‘Ulster revival’ of 1859, when a wave of fervent evangelicalism swept the country.2 Margaret Anne Kilpatrick was born in 1837, the eighth child of Balleer schoolmaster Robert Reid who died suddenly the year after Margaret’s birth. A notation in the family Bible recorded, ‘He lived respected and died lamented by all who knew him, having discharged the arduous task of instructing youth for the space of nineteen years in the Balleer School with great efficiency. His motto was the end of all education is to be wiser and better. Religious instruction was his principle [sic] aim.’3 Some time after Robert Reid’s death his family changed their allegiance from the Church of Ireland to Presbyterianism, possibly during the Great Revival. Seemingly, David Kilpatrick, Margaret’s husband, did not share the religious fervour of Margaret and her companions. As Margaret’s brother Joseph Reid

1

This document was kindly provided by Alan Kilpatrick. For discussion of the 1859 Ulster revival see David Hempton and Myrtle Hill, Evangelical protestantism in Ulster society, 1740–1890 (London, 1992), especially pp 145–60. 3 Joyce M. H. Reid (ed.), An introduction to the Balleer school copy book of letters (Belfast, 1977), pp xi–xii. 2

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requested of her in 1880, ‘Let me know in your next if David has yet accepted Gods greatest Gift. “It is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners”’ (Ki 9). In Auckland, however, David did seek out Rev. Mackey who ‘got David a good situation at once with a Mr Wallace. He is an elder in Mr Mackeys own meetting house’ (Ki 1). Margaret, meanwhile, continued her affinity with Psalm 103 (Ki 13, 14), was a steadfast parishioner at the old Wellesley Street church in Auckland, and a leader of the Young Women’s Bible Class.4 Margaret Kilpatrick’s religious beliefs were undoubtedly of comfort when she buried two of her children, her daughter Elizabeth Lyons Kilpatrick in 1870 and her youngest son Robert Ebenezer Reid Kilpatrick in October 1906. As Margaret’s Canadian-based sister Martha informed their brother Thomas Reid, upon learning of Robert’s death, ‘She writes he has gone to Jesus, so she has not to fret as those who have no hope.’5 And when Margaret’s husband David died in 1905 she consoled herself and home readers by wistfully reporting, ‘He is buired in the city where I can walk to his grave in 20 minutes. . . . We buired our Lizzie there 34 yeras ago, & its a lovely spot’ (Ki 14). David’s death prompted the only admission of loneliness in the letters sent by Margaret Kilpatrick to her family and friends in Armagh. She requested her brother Thomas to ‘write again to your lonely sister’ (Ki 14). Death also prompted similar expressions among Margaret’s connexions in Armagh. When David’s mother died, his sister Mary brooded, ‘We feel ve[r]y lonly since she was always with us and we are now alone’ (Ki 6). Confronted with the death of loved ones, Margaret Kilpatrick presumably shared her mother’s desire for spiritual reunion with those from whom she was separated. ‘I fear I never will see you in this life’, Mary Anne Reid forlornly remarked at the outset of her daughter’s departure (Ki 2). The religious experiences of Margaret Kilpatrick and her companions raise a number of issues. The undertaking of Margaret’s father highlights the role of religion and education, while David Kilpatrick’s indifference shows that a lack of religious impulse cannot solely be attributable to the conditions encountered in the New World. David’s use of a local cleric to obtain employment, meanwhile, poses questions concerning the perceptions and importance of religious personnel. And what do the letters tell us about the various religious practices pursued by both Catholic and Protestant correspondents? Extracts from Margaret Kilpatrick’s writings illuminate the richness of her faith and its importance, particularly during times of despair. Responses to death and the role of burials, as discussed in the Kilpatrick sequence, also feature in other exchanges of letters, as does eager anticipation for spiritual reunion.

4

This information appears in Margaret’s obituary contained in New Zealand Baptist, March 1922, p. 43, which was kindly supplied by Alan Kilpatrick. 5 Martha Jane Wilson (Canada) to Thomas E. Reid (Armagh), 13 January 1907. Typed transcript at P.R.O.N.I., T/2466/1. 237

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These show that religious faith was a crucial element for Irish correspondents in New Zealand and Ireland. Despite some differences between Catholics and Protestants, the religious experience of many Irish migrants was richer than has commonly been realised. By focusing on the perceptions of the laity rather than religious personnel, this chapter attempts to address a major gap in the historiography of religion in both New Zealand and Ireland. Previous explanations of church histories in both countries have given comparatively little attention to the disparate voices of the laity, focusing instead on institutional elements. This is not surprising given the extensive nature of ecclesiastical sources. Bemoaning the state of religious history in New Zealand, Peter Lineham suggested various avenues for exploration. Among such avenues were the ‘hot passions and extreme feelings’ as well as ‘moral and spiritual decline’.6 This chapter also provides a corrective to Donald Akenson’s assessment of ‘The general absence of religious references and religious imagery and metaphor in the emigrant letters’7 of the Irish in New Zealand. While the archival holdings exploited by Akenson convey little interest in religion, other private collections indicate that Protestant and Catholic Irish, in Ireland and New Zealand, did concern themselves with religious matters. This divergence also appears in the two major studies of Irish correspondence in Australia. According to Patrick O’Farrell, whose study was primarily based on the collections of Irish Protestant letters lodged at the Public Record Office of Northern Ireland, ‘A characteristic of emigrant correspondence back to Ireland . . . is the paucity of religious reference’.8 David Fitzpatrick’s edition of Irish–Australian letters, on the other hand, concluded that ‘Every emigrant correspondent employed the idiom of religion.’9 Irish–New Zealand letters also reflect that faith was a fundamental component of wellbeing and a spiritual solace for correspondents. In the early years of settlement in New Zealand, Irish migrants encountered a religious structure that contrasted significantly with Ireland. At home the United Church of Great Britain and Ireland was the established church, whereas in New Zealand there was no established church. There was likewise in New Zealand no one dominant denomination. In 1881 Anglicans,

6

Peter Lineham, ‘Religion’ in Colin Davis and Peter Lineham (eds), The future of the past: themes in New Zealand history (Massey, 1991), p. 9. 7 D. H. Akenson, ‘Reading the texts of rural immigrants: letters from the Irish in Australia, New Zealand, and North America’ in Donald H. Akenson (ed.), Canadian Papers in Rural History, vii, (Ontario, 1990), 404. 8 Patrick O’Farrell, ‘Emigrant attitudes and behaviour as a source for Irish history’ in G. A. Hayes-McCoy (ed.), Historical Studies, x, (Dublin, 1976), 121. 9 David Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation: personal accounts of Irish migration to Australia (Cork, 1995), p. 601. 238

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Presbyterians, and Roman Catholics contributed respectively 41, 23, and 14 per cent of New Zealand’s religious denominations. That same year in Ireland Catholics formed 76.54 per cent of the population. Particular areas of New Zealand, however, were characterised by denominational concentrations (see Table 9.1). Provincial divisions reveal that Otago was strongly Presbyterian while Marlborough, Canterbury, and Taranaki contained large Anglican elements. Catholics featured most vividly in Westland. The small percentage of Catholics elsewhere in New Zealand differed dramatically from the Irish situation, where Catholics dominated in three provinces. Only one province – Ulster – incorporated a Protestant population almost matching Catholic proportions (see Table 9.2). There were nevertheless significant divergences amongst Ulster’s denominations (see Table 9.3). In 1881 Ulster’s population was 52 per cent Protestant.

Table 9.1 Religious denominations in New Zealand by province, 1881 (%) Province

Catholics

Anglicans

Presbyterians

Auckland Taranaki Wellington Hawke’s Bay Marlborough Nelson Westland Canterbury Otago All New Zealand

16.63 13.98 12.58 14.03 15.77 15.98 31.84 11.54 12.08 14.08

45.08 49.82 25.70 46.03 54.42 42.22 35.40 48.46 26.30 41.50

17.11 9.75 14.12 16.23 14.12 10.82 15.41 17.76 42.28 23.09

Source: Percentages were calculated from Census of New Zealand, 1881, Table 6, p. 221.

Table 9.2 Religious denominations in Ireland by province, 1881 (%) Province

Catholics

Church of Ireland

Presbyterians

Ulster Munster Connacht Leinster All Ireland

47.8 93.8 95.3 85.6 76.54

21.8 5.3 3.9 12.3 12.36

25.9 0.3 0.4 0.9 9.10

Source: W. E. Vaughan and A. J. Fitzpatrick (eds), Irish Historical Statistics: Population, 1821–1971 (Dublin, 1978), pp 49, 59. 239

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Table 9.3 Religious denominations in Ulster, 1881 (%) County

Catholics

Church of Ireland

Presbyterians

Other

Antrim Armagh Belfast Cavan Donegal Down Fermanagh Londonderry Monaghan Tyrone

22.7 46.4 28.8 80.9 76.5 30.9 55.8 44.4 73.7 55.5

19.8 32.7 28.1 14.7 12.0 22.8 36.4 19.1 13.3 22.4

51.3 16.0 34.4 3.4 10.1 40.0 2.0 33.2 11.9 19.5

6.2 4.9 8.7 1.0 1.4 6.3 5.8 3.3 1.1 2.6

Source: Vaughan and Fitzpatrick (eds), Irish Historical Statistics, pp 58–9.

Despite this slight overall Protestant majority, counties within Ulster were distinguished by striking denominational differences. Presbyterians were in a majority in Antrim and the town of Carrickfergus (55.2 per cent), and were also strongly represented in Down. Conversely, no one Ulster county contained a dominant Church of Ireland contingent. Catholics, on the other hand, formed a majority in Cavan, Donegal, Fermanagh, Monaghan, and Tyrone. Though Catholics were also the predominant denomination in County Armagh and Londonderry, the combined Protestant populations outnumbered them. How did New Zealand compare? Early accounts of religious interaction in New Zealand society highlight harmonious relations. According to Thomas William Croke, bishop of Auckland from 1870 to 1874, ‘the relations existing between the various churches are most cordial for the colonists are extremely tolerant and are most liberal and generous in their conduct towards the ministers of the different religions’.10 Croke’s comment was supported by an Anglican vicar who, on his travels, ‘found the great majority of the people Romanists who all received me very cordially and I had a cup of tea at one place and dinner at another’.11 A later Protestant clergyman, Bishop Moore Richard Neligan, echoed this view. In December 1906 he wrote in his diary, ‘Stayed at Hotel kept by Ch

10 Newspaper cutting, paper unknown, undated, A.C.D.A., CRO 1–6, cited in S. C. MacPherson, ‘A “ready made nucleus of degradation and disorder”: a religious and social history of the Catholic Church and community in Auckland, 1870–1910’, M.A. thesis, University of Auckland, 1987, p. 270. 11 Alison Drummond (ed.), The Thames journals of Vicesimus Lush, 1868–82 (Christchurch, 1975), p. 179.

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people who, as usual, charged the Bishop double!’ The following day he wrote, ‘Stayed in hotel kept by R.C.’s who, as usual, charged nothing!’12 The letters sent from Ireland to New Zealand give little evidence of such amiability. But nor do they contain much evidence of sectarian division. Where such division appeared, it was grudgingly accepted and confined to letters emerging from twentieth-century Ireland. ‘He is a protestant but is true as steel’, John Strong pronounced when he implored his cousin Daniel to meet an Irish Protestant acquaintance in New Zealand (St 6). In 1912 Kate Keane summed up Irish Catholic relations towards Protestants: ‘You know Mary how prejudiced the people at home are against any outside R I Church’ (Ke 8). Based in London, Kate was allegedly more tolerant, admitting that ‘some of my best & truest friends are Church of England’ (Ke 8). Irish Protestant correspondents also alluded to divisions between the denominations in Ireland. Alexander McKelvey, writing from Auckland in 1904, bitterly meditated, ‘I read all about the Catholic Association & I think if the R. C’s go on as at present, Ireland will be a good place to live away from in a few years more’ (Ky 1). Most correspondents, however, rarely passed comment on religious interaction, whether it be harmonious or otherwise. One commentator has referred to the ‘Sectarian tension and religious bigotry’ in New Zealand society.13 Overt friction, however, was sporadic, confined to particular areas at particular times, and frequently inflamed by specific events. The most visible outbreaks of hostility took place between Orange and Green factions on the West Coast in the 1860s and in Timaru in 1879.14 Tension also arose during visits by itinerant preachers such as the Catholic priest Patrick Hennebery and the Catholic turned Protestant Charles Chiniquy. The response to such campaigns, however, varied according to region. In Dunedin, Hugh Laracy argues, the intake of money from Chiniquy’s tour suggests that ‘there was a proportionately greater support for Chiniquy there than elsewhere’.15 Yet if individuals like Chiniquy inflamed antiCatholicism, so too could Catholics emphasise anti-Catholicism for their own ends. Bishop Patrick Moran’s catchcry of anti-Catholicism, for instance, was ‘used to justify his demands for a subsidy for Catholic schools’.16 Moran’s drive for funding resulted from the 1877 Education Act which stipulated that no funds were to be available to schools outside the national

12 9 and 10 December 1906, Bishop Neligan’s Working Diary, 1903–7, held in the collection of the Archives of the Anglican Diocese of Auckland, series 13b. 13 Allan K. Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa: a history of church and society in New Zealand (Wellington, 1991), p. 50. 14 See Richard P. Davis, Irish issues in New Zealand politics, 1868–1922 (Dunedin, 1974), especially pp 11–24; Seán G. Brosnahan, ‘“The battle of the borough” and the “saige o Timaru”: sectarian riot in colonial Canterbury’ in N.Z.J.H., xxviii (1994), pp 41–59. 15 Hugh M. Laracy, ‘The life and context of bishop Patrick Moran’, M.A. thesis, Victoria University Wellington, 1964, p. 62. 16 Ibid., p. 67.

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system. The Catholic quest to keep Catholic education separate also generated sectarian feeling in New Zealand. For many clergy, separate education was warranted to nurture the Catholic faith. And according to one report, a knowledge of Irish history was a precondition to ensuring the maintenance of Catholicism: it is a sad but undeniable fact that the children of Irish parents in this country have little or no sympathy with their ancestral homes . . . . Irish History is needed in this country for the Irish people and their children, if the interests of the Catholic Church, the love of the Catholic priest, and the purity of the Catholic faith are to be here maintained.17

Did migrant correspondents share this opinion? West Coast hotelkeeper Ellen Piezzi sent her daughter Helvetia ‘to a bording chool to Wellington convent’ possibly to nurture the youngster’s faith. But in a letter to her husband’s family Ellen stressed her desire to maintain the heritage of her recently deceased Swiss-German husband, rather than her own Irish background as a motive, combined with a desire to remove her child from the disturbing atmosphere of hotel life. Ellen was concerned about the cost of Helvetia’s education, but recognised its benefits: thirtey six pound per year for her but she Will be taugh her fathers langus and musick and brought up insely better than be around the [erased: by] publick house dore. She is veyy in tiligant [intelligent] girl all Wayes [?talking] about her father. It Was very hard on me to part With her but it best i could doo for her. (Pi 2)

The only other Catholic migrant correspondent to report on education was Brigid Dawson. She wrote home from Wanganui in 1924 to tell Armagh readers that her children were taught by nuns and ‘are at School every day . . . . We intend keeping them at this school for a year or so then we will send them to the high school in Town. Schooling is free here. One can send them where they like’ (Da 1). The importance of a colonial education was also recognised by correspondents in Ireland. Limerick farmer William Lysaght, desiring his nephew’s progress, firmly instructed his brother, ‘Keep Willy to school. I must do something for him’ (Ly 4). Protestant migrant correspondents shared the concern of their Catholic counterparts that children receive a sound education. From Southland in 1865 James McClure, in assessing the progress of his nephews at school, concluded, ‘George is clever, reads well, Geography, spelling, arithmetic &c. Gordy reads short stories, spells, tables &c. Arthur spells & reads in a sort of a way’ (Ce 5). In 1899 Catherine Colgan in Antrim was delighted to learn ‘that the children are at school and the are learning so well’ (Co 5). Higher education was also

17

New Zealand Freeman’s Journal, 7 August 1885, p. 11. 242

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admired. Bessie Macready, the daughter of a teacher and herself a teacher at Governors Bay, relished the idea that ‘young ladies go in quite as strongly for education as do the gentlemen. In fact I have met two young ladies here who have taken their degrees at the University’ (Ma 3). This concern for education was also present in Ireland. Margaret Kilpatrick learned from her brother that ‘Mr Robt is living in Armagh to get his family better educated’ and that Elizabeth Walker’s daughter was sent away for her education: ‘I expect Charlotte home from school in the course of five weeks. Her great progress in the many branches she had to study, has more than met our utmost expectations. She plays the piano most pleasingly, and exceeds her professor in drawing and painting’ (Ki 9, 4). The London-based Catholic correspondent Kate Keane, on the other hand, stressed the significance of a religious education. As she emphatically explained from London in 1921: ‘I would not send the children to a county council board school. I think the teaching is no good the manners are dreadful but I will know with the sisters they will be taught everything good both physically & morally’ (Ke 8). Education, then, was of vital concern to correspondents at home and abroad, with some parents making substantial sacrifices to facilitate their children’s schooling. Correspondents rarely perceived schooling in negative terms that impinged on the contribution of children to the household economy, but reacted positively to educational opportunities for their children. Despite their apparent ambivalence to religious education, many of the correspondents studied kept up a strong religious identity. This was less easily achieved in New Zealand where the predominant characteristic of religious life was one of indifference. Few church adherents attended on a regular basis. Facilities were meagre. Clergy were scarce.18 Though the letters echo this situation, this interpretation fails to account for those individuals who expressed their faith without necessarily attending church. The inadequate infrastructure of religious facilities in the early colony gave rise to widespread anxiety among home correspondents. The consternation was especially evident when Ann McCleland migrated to New Zealand from County Londonderry in 1840. As her mother Elizabeth McCleland anxiously announced, ‘It is reported that that place is a wicked place and little or no clergey or publick worship’ (Cd 1). Elizabeth’s local minister, the Reverend Campbell, who had an old schoolfriend in the colony, also a clergyman, probably influenced Elizabeth’s impression. Elizabeth therefore urged Ann ‘not to neglect your dutey to your God who has hitherto been the guide of your life’ (Cd 1). Given such negative representations of the colony, Elizabeth McCleland was relieved to learn of her daughter’s continuing attendance at church: ‘I was verry glad to hear that your mind was cheered in that strange place with religion and that you had found comfort going to hear

18 For background on the colonial churches see H. R. Jackson, Churches and people in Australia and New Zealand, 1860–1930 (Wellington, 1987), especially Chapter 2.

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Mr Eleart and that you had enjoyd peace of mind after the Communion at Easter’ (Cd 2). More than forty years after Ann McCleland’s migration concern for a migrant’s religious welfare continued to preoccupy correspondents in Ireland. Daniel Strong was zealously urged by his cousin John to ‘practice your Relegion as you did in portumna. Be always a good Catholic earnest and fervent’ (St 2). Despite good intentions, facilities for colonial worship were seldom available, precluding migrants from attending to their religious duties. Others may not have wished to attend. As Hugh Jackson has indicated, attendance at public worship tended to be irregular.19 James McIlrath, reporting to his family in 1862, a year after his arrival in Canterbury, noted: ‘I have not been to Church Mass or Meeting but twice since I left Home and that was in Australia. There is not a House of worship within 25 miles of me’ (Il 6). Undoubtedly the perceived threat to religious faith posed by emigration concerned people in Ireland, and James’s family may have suspected that his non-attendance at a Unitarian service implied his defection to another faith. James therefore emphasised his absence from all forms of religious service. A similar situation confronted John Gilmore at Tauranga in 1876. As he informed home readers on the Ards Peninsula, ‘We have no such thing as Unitarian service here. Only Church is Catholic and a few weeks ago a Presbyterian came here to preach in hall’ (Ge 7). Inadequate facilities for formal worship, arising from limited church finances and a dispersed population, prompted prosperous migrants like Hamilton McIlrath to attempt to alleviate the situation: ‘I gave an acre of land for a presbitarain church about a hundred yards from my house whitch will improve the lack of it a bit. By the bye there is no uniterians here leastways no churchs or clergeyman so when I do go I go to the presbiterian’ (Il 19). Such a statement provides support for Hugh Jackson’s view that the ‘mediocre’ church attendance in New Zealand compared to Britain was due to a lack of facilities.20 But Hamilton McIlrath’s claim raises an alternative explanation: his own decision whether or not to attend. The McIlrath sequence also suggests another reason for the mobility of Protestants among competing denominations: the disapproval some denominations encountered. As James McIlrath confided to his family in County Down in 1873, ‘Now this Southbridge is a Nice little Town with one English Church and one Scoctch or Presbeterian but by the way there is no Uniterian (Hush) it is a thing never mentioned here’ (Il 18). Five years later his brother Hamilton wrote in similar terms, ‘I still hold the same views but people here would call you a heritic if you mentioned such a thing’ (Il 28).

19

Ibid., especially Chapter 1. Hugh Jackson, ‘Churchgoing in nineteenth-century New Zealand’ in N.Z.J.H., xvii (1983), pp 51, 53.

20

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In his overview of Christianity in New Zealand, Allan Davidson has claimed that the ‘Unitarian influence in New Zealand was slight’.21 Certainly the opposition encountered by the creed in the colony contributed to this situation. But, intriguingly, most Protestant correspondents who reflected on their faith were Unitarian. Despite colonial condemnation of certain creeds, James McIlrath staunchly maintained, You may think perhaps that I have turned Methodist. No I am as sound a Unitarian as when I left Killinchy altho I never heard a unitarian Sermon since. We have a very eloquent little presbeterian Clergyman here but I must confess that I cannot believe all He says. It is a bold assertion for I unlearned to make against it may be the Lord’s anointed passed of talent and learning but consience must be obeyed. (Il 23)

James’s willingness to maintain his Unitarian thinking, however, created problems with his local Presbyterian minister. According to Hamilton McIlrath, ‘James told me the Presbyterian[erased: s] minister would not babtise his last child on acount of him not conforming to their rules’ (Il 28). James McIlrath’s Unitarianism contributed to his independent thinking which even he himself, at times, considered odd: I used to have some queer notions about religion and you will not be surprised if the are queer still (such as no personal Devil yet Devils many). I have Nature in Her truest form and Revelation for my guide and with god for friend and Father I may be little worse than many who like the Parsons Horce find their way to the Church gate but there they leave their religion behind and if far from Church be near grace. (Il 6)

As with the religious climate in New Zealand, a vast array of denominations in Ireland competed for the support of adherents. The range appears most prominently in a letter sent to Auckland from Sligo in 1923 by Robert Hughes: ‘This Country is almost Romancatholic with a slight sprink[l]ing of Protestants, Presbyterians, New Lights, Dippers, Methodists, Seekers Cooneyites’ (Hu 1). Hughes, on the other hand, was a staunch member of the Church of Ireland and followed his religious observance carefully: When I was laid up I lost count of the days of the week not being about seeing the people gooing to Mass Church &c. So on a Sunday evening Mr Morrison called to see me. Your mother had War Crys &c on the table by the fire for me & mark you this was sunday but I did not know it and after an hours conversation I asked what day it was and he very gravely said Tuesday so when my sunday came which was

21

Davidson, Christianity in Aotearoa, p. 56. 245

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Friday by right I got up dressed gathered my Bible Hymnal &c and sat down to keep the Lords day in a befitting manner. I saw Lorries of dead Pigs & all sorts of traffic going on outside and I said to your Mother what does them brutes mean working that way on Sunday and all the time I could see there was a rather amusing smile or hidden grin on her face so then they had the laugh at me. It looked like my memory failing me but it was morrison the man that would not tell the truth unless where a lie would not suit but thank God I have a little memory yet. (Hu 8)

Robert Hughes clearly placed great emphasis on written spiritual texts, but was bewildered by developments in 1928: ‘What do you think of the church of England & the Prayer book. It seems we will have to pray by Act of Parliament’ (Hu 12). Robert’s comment reflected awareness of the Church of England’s constitution, which prevented use of the 1928 prayer book, and the Church of England Empowering Act, which was passed to allow Anglicans to change their formularies. Robert continued to ‘read a portion of scripture & a hymn every morning & evening. I am unable to attend the church services but I read my Bible at home & other good books if I can get them’ (Hu 5). Elizabeth McCleland in County Londonderry also stressed the significance she placed on the Bible when she urged her daughter Ann to ‘Make it your constant companion & studey day & Night. It is able through Faith in Christ Jesus to make you wise unto salvation. Therefore meditate in it day and Night’ (Cd 1). Likewise, John Armstrong, son of a Church of Ireland clergyman, solemnly assured his sister from New Plymouth in 1859, ‘I do not neglect to read the Bible daily. It is a habit which from being so accustomed to both at home and with Uncle that I would feel uncomfortable were I to break it off’ (Ar 1). In some instances, the Bible also served a function as recorder of family births (Ki 10). Biblical extracts occasionally featured in the correspondence, particularly in letters sent by female writers. From Tonduff in County Antrim, Catherine Colgan, a Wesleyan, quoted from the gospels of St Luke and St Matthew. Discussion of scripture was generally absent in the letters of Catholic correspondents, perhaps reflecting the Catholic hierarchy’s view that ‘the Bible was capable of private interpretation, and could not, therefore, be the source of unity’.22 Though Philip Carroll purchased a prayer book on his return to Ireland, Catholic writers primarily discussed practical rather than textual religious observance. The Strong letters indicate attendance at the stations of the cross in Tipperary in 1883 while Philip Carroll purchased rosary beads in 1925 (St 1; Cl 18). Among the ‘paraphernalia of talismans’23 sought by correspondents were scapular medals. Following May Sullivan’s request to her

22 Auckland Evening Star, 23 April 1888, p. 8, quoting Archbishop Redwood, in Typescript and Xerox of Auckland Newspapers 1880s, A.C.D.A. 23 The phrase is Michael King’s. See God’s farthest outpost: a history of Catholics in New New [sic] Zealand (Auckland, 1997), p. 23.

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former teacher for such medals, Sister M. Patrick notified in 1920, ‘I now enclose two blessed for five scapulars’ (Fa 8). The consequences of Ireland’s ‘devotional revolution’24 in New Zealand included growth in church attendance, an increase in religious personnel, and widespread observance of devotional practices. That such developments were necessary was echoed by Bishop Croke who in 1871, shortly after his arrival in Auckland, wrote: An Irish bishop was not sent here one day too soon. Had there been much more of a delay, I fear the faith would have died out here altogether. As it is, there is a great deal of difficulty to be countered with, and many of our poor people have long since given up all the practices, and in some instances, even the profession of our holy Faith.25

Croke’s census of 1871 supports his statement, revealing that approximately half of Auckland’s Catholics barely, if ever, practised their Catholicism.26 Similar inertia also characterised the Catholic Church in Australia.27 In Irish–New Zealand letters the most prominent practice of a Catholic’s faith was prayer. When Daniel Strong departed his native Tipperary in 1883, his cousin John gravely implored, ‘may god and the blessed virgin watch over and protect you. May they guide your steps back again to holy Ireland to mingle your clay with your father’s in the old spot under the shadow of Lorrha Abbey’ (St 2). Daniel was, of course, expected to contribute to his own welfare: ‘I have every confidence in your own sense and in your own spirit and I hope God will watch over and protect you as I know you will pray for his assistance and protection’ (St 2). From Canterbury in 1891, after receiving the news of her father’s death in Carlow, Annie Dempsey ‘got masses said for my Poor Father and got him Prayed for in Waimate last November’ (De 6). When Annie’s husband died that same year she despairingly wrote to her family, ‘I am not able to say any more now onely I want you to get him Prayed for in Ballyconell Chaple’ (De 7). Eleven years later, on the death of Annie’s mother, Annie responded in a predictable fashion, turning again to the comfort of her faith:

24 This concept argues that Catholics became more devout following the Great Famine. The process, at its height in the mid to late nineteenth century, saw Irish Catholics become increasingly active in devotional exercises. It was accompanied by an increase in religious personnel and a decine in clerical abuses. See Emmett Larkin, ‘The devotional revolution in Ireland, 1850–1875’ American Historical Review, lxxvii (1972), pp 625–52, reprinted in Emmet Larkin, The historical dimensions of Irish catholicism (Dublin, 1997), pp 57–89. 25 Croke to Kirby, 10 July 1871, A.C.D.A., CRO 4–5/5. 26 Based on 1,320 Catholics. See E. R. Simmons, In cruce salus: a history of the diocese of Auckland, 1848–1980 (Auckland, 1982), p. 109. 27 O’Farrell, ‘Emigrant attitudes and behaviour’, p. 123.

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Dear Sister I sent 15 Shillings to the Convent in the Co Mayo to have her enroled in the order of our lady of good Counsel. There was ten Masses offered for the repose of her Soule. She also has a part of a Mass offered every day & prayed for before the Holy Srine. I enclose a little picture of our ladey of good Councle & I hope you wont ever forget your self and Willie to pray beforer that picture for her. Poor Dear Dear Mother our Good Mother. I do hope the Angels carried her Soule to Heaven. Shurly she is onely a little time befour us. (De 10)

County Cork miner John O’Regan was just as fervent when in 1899 he offered stringent advice to his American-born niece concerning adherence to prayer and the practical aspects of Catholicism: Attend to your religious duties, regular as you can and if you have a spare fifty cent piece give it to a Priest to say a Mass for the poor forsaken souls in Purgatory. This is the greatest charity you can do. Assist those who cant help themselves. And this act of mercy is put down to your credit and more, your name is known in Heaven. Even one Hail Mary said for this purpose draws down upon your head blessings and gives that comfort and consoles where nothing else will. As for my poor self – hard hearted as I am, I never forget this act – particularly remembering those who are gone before me. Bear in Mind that Purgatory may last to the end of the world. (Rn 1)

Prayer continued to be a resounding element in letters sent from Ireland during the early twentieth century. Sister M. Patrick, a nun based in County Tipperary, told May Sullivan, ‘I shall give you a prayer & you must not forget to give me a remembrance in yours’ (Fa 8). In 1925, when an old girlfriend of Philip Carroll’s heard he had died, she ‘had said prayers for the repose of my soul’ (Cl 18). Blessings also accompanied prayers at death. Kate Keane, having attended her father’s death in 1903, reassured her sister Mary that ‘he left his blessing to all his children. So his last words Mary was a blessing’ (Ke 5). Prayer and blessings also featured in the correspondence of Protestant writers. Unlike Catholics, however, such comments were confined to the pens of female correspondents. The uncertainty of several months at sea sparked the utterance of familiar phrases of religious protection for the voyage. Ann McCleland’s departure from Dunronan, County Londonderry in 1840 provoked her mother’s fervent prayer to ‘commit you to the god of all Grace praying that agreeable to his promise he may be a Father to the Fatherless the strangers shield and the orphans stay’ (Cd 1). Ann McCleland’s sister ‘remembers you night & morning in her prayers as we do all’ (Cd 1). Almost sixty years later, Catherine Colgan told her son, ‘My Dear son many a prayer I have put up for you & the Lord will answer his own children’s prayer when offered up in Faith. My Dear son it should encourage us more & more to pray in Faith for all around us & for all our Friends’ (Co 4). Prayer was but one feature of worship for Irish migrants in New Zealand, and was often incorporated in the activities of lay organisations. No evidence of the role of these organisations exists in Irish–New Zealand correspondence, 248

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but studies of Catholics in Christchurch and Auckland reveal that ‘the rhythm of Irish Catholic community life revolved around the activities of the parish church’.28 This participation was enhanced with the growing provision of churches during the later nineteenth century. In Dunedin, for instance, Bishop Moran’s church building ‘was extensive but prudent’.29 In his collection of Irish–Australian letters David Fitzpatrick has written that religion was ‘a source of pride for Catholics, intoxicated with their church’s growing wealth and power’.30 Compared with the visibility of the Catholic Church at home and abroad, as reflected in Irish–Australian correspondence, there is only minimal mention in letters exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand, a difference presumably attributable to preoccupations of the letter writers. The earliest comment dates from 1871 when William Lysaght informed his brother from Limerick: ‘There is a beautiful convent now in Doon in Father Hickeys place. He left all his money to them and to some Monks who have now finished their buildings in Doon’ (Ly 5).31 No further comment appears in letters from Ireland until approximately 1914 when Maggie Moran reported from Tipperary that ‘M.J. Slattery entered the convent in Birr. I saw her since she entered and I think I never saw or expect to see anyone so holy or nice looking she was like an angel.’ Another friend entered a convent in County Sligo (Fa 5). As for Maggie she admitted in 1916, ‘I very seldom go into the convent, just an odd Sunday to the “Sodality”’ (Fa 6). Comments about Catholic churches in letters from New Zealand were just as meagre, only cited in comparison to churches in Ireland. From Canterbury in 1884, Annie Dempsey happily described Waimate’s Catholic church in response to a request for information from her sister: ‘My Dear Sister you wish to Know Have we A nice Chappell. We Have A lovely Woodden Chappell mutch like the little Chaple in Killanure onely A greadl larger’ (De 3).32 Forty years later Brigid Dawson indicated from Wanganui: ‘Well the school is like your own. It is the Chapel when Sunday comes. There is Mass every Sunday. It used to be only twice a month’ (Da 1). If relatively little mention was made of church buildings in Irish–New Zealand correspondence, compared with letters exchanged between Ireland

28

Lyndon Fraser, To Tara via Holyhead: Irish Catholic immigrants in nineteenth-century Christchurch (Auckland, 1997), p. 92. See also Rachael Partington, ‘Faith and nationality: Catholic lay societies and Irish immigrant adaptation to Auckland society, 1870–1910’, M.A. Research Essay, University of Auckland, 1993. 29 Laracy, ‘The life and context of bishop Patrick Moran’, p. 39. 30 Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 560. 31 Patrick Hickey, who died 25 July 1864, left his farm and money for the establishment of a Christian Brothers school founded in 1874 and also a convent in 1865. See Dún Bleisce: a history (Doon, 1990), p. 169, and the Indices of Wills and Administrations for 1864 [345] in N.A.I. 32 The first Catholic church at Waimate opened in 1877, but was moved to Washdyke in 1934. 249

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and Australia, there was greater discussion of religious personnel in both countries, a striking contrast with the absence of such commentary in Fitzpatrick’s collection of correspondence. This difference is presumably due to the particular letters studied by Fitzpatrick, as O’Farrell’s edition of similar letters between Ireland and migrants in Australia contains several extracts relating to the clergy in Australia. In Irish–New Zealand letters Catholic correspondents were more likely than Protestants to display deep concern towards their clergy in Ireland and the colony. Their focus on Irish-born clerics testifies to the Irishness of the Catholic Church in New Zealand. From Manawatu in 1905, more than forty years after her arrival, Catherine Sullivan sought information from her brother-in-law concerning a local Limerick priest: ‘Dear Tom let me know is Father Enwright in Ballangarry or where is he. We had a missioner here a Father O’Donall who said he was in Ballangarry’ (Su 1).33 The following year lone gumdigger, Patrick Quinn, also had contact with a missionary: Wee had a roman Catholick Priest here a month or 6 weeks befor Christmas the rev Father Maggrah. He is on a Mission. He is from Deerry in the North of Ireland. He was talking to mee and asked mee my name. I told him Patrick Quinn and he asked mee where I Came from. I told him I came from Newry and he told mee that he was there. I went to Confession to him. (Qu 3)34

Both extracts testify to the aim of missions to target Catholics living in remote areas, rather than attract new adherents. The interest in Quinn also exemplifies the narrower target of missionaries – men prone to intemperance.35 The curiosity displayed by correspondents towards Irish-born clergy continued into the twentieth century with Brigid Dawson animatedly reporting from Wanganui in 1924 that The Priests are very nice. Father Hickson came from Dundalk thirty years ago and was round a lot of Ireland. He knows a good many places in it. Peter and him had a long talk but I never was speaking to him. One of the Sisters came from Ireland

33 Henry O’Donnell carried out missions in New Zealand from approximately 1902 until 1914 at which time he was posted to the Philippines. He died in Dublin in 1925. I am grateful to Fr Bruce Bolland, A.C.D.A., for this information which appears in P. B. Kearney, ‘Plentiful redemption’: the redemptorists in New Zealand, 1883–1983 (Auckland, 1997). 34 Fr Marcus McGrath was one of several redemptorist fathers travelling throughout New Zealand giving missions in parishes, schools, and other Church institutions around Wellington and Northland. After a period in Ballarat he returned to New Zealand and died in 1920 at St Gerard’s monastery in Wellington. I am grateful to Fr Bruce Bolland, A.C.D.A., for this information which appears in Kearney, ‘Plentiful redemption’. 35 This point is made in MacPherson, ‘A “ready made nucleus of degradation and disorder”’, p. 151.

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when she was very young. She sent down for me to got up to be talking to her. They are very fond of the children. (Da 1)36

Affection for clergy is also evident in Philip Carroll’s praise of his local Auckland priest. Disturbed by the Tipperary scene during his return there in 1925, Philip concurred with his wife, ‘Fr Colgan is good alright and if necessary I know he will help you. After some of the things I have seen and experienced since I came home I will be a regular attendant at that little church on the hill when I return if my health permits it’ (Cl 9).37 The only sequence containing comment on Catholic religious personnel in Ireland is the Farrell sequence. It includes several letters exchanged between May Sullivan and nuns of the Sisters of Mercy. In 1914 Sister M. Patrick asked her ex-pupil May Sullivan, ‘Are you near a Convent? If so would it not be nice for you & Christina too to attend the meetings of the Children of Mary. It would keep you in touch with the sisters’ (Fa 3). Two years later Maggie Moran reported extensively on the nuns and priests at Borrisokane: I very seldom go into the convent, just an odd Sunday to the ‘Sodality’. Mother Augustine is there to the good yet. The same old ‘three-and-fourpence’. Sr. M. Patrick is still in Nenagh. I never call to see her, although she was not a bad old soul. Does she ever write to you? The nuns in Borris at present are nearly all strange ones – with the exception of S. M. Agnes and Teresa. Sister Agnes’ Mother died on last September. Fr Vaughan is changed to Carrigaholt and we have Fr. Meehan, he was in Terryglass one time. (Fa 5)

In 1920 May also received word that ‘The Bishop was in Birr for ceremony & confirmation and also in Nenagh last week. He is going to Rome for the Beatification [of] Oliver Plunket very soon’ (Fa 7). Protestant correspondents in Ireland also rarely commented on their ministers. Indeed, the only correspondent to do so was Robert Hughes, and even then it was to convey cynicism towards his new Church of Ireland parson: Our Rector was here on a visit so we met for the first time after he being over a year & a half in the Parish, so we had a very good Exchange for a little while. He was greatly admiring your Photos and views of Residence &c. I gave him a couple of War Crys to bring home & read. He promised to call soon again. I said that I might

36 Fr James Hickson (1863–1933) was born in Australia, before his family moved to the West Coast of New Zealand. He received his training at Marist College, Dundalk, between 1878 and 1882. He returned to New Zealand in 1888 and served at Wanganui between 1923 and 1924. Hickson published Catholic missionary work in Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand (Auckland, 1924). Information kindly supplied by Marist Archives, Wellington, and the Archdiocese of Wellington. 37 Fr George Colgan (1892–1972) was parish priest of Avondale from 1922 until 1940.

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Expect him any time the assesment money became due. So he looked at me as if I considered him a doubtful shepherd. (Hu 6)

Hughes was somewhat more complimentary in his assessment of a previous vicar at Achill Island who assisted the island’s Catholic population during a period of famine: ‘The Rector in old times when there was great distress & famin got them a ship load of seed Potatoes to plant their ground. Well the people called them “Protestants” after the Parson, so the carry that name still & are good for Eating’ (Hu 1). That Protestant clergy in Ireland faced opposition and dissension from their congregations is suggested by David McCullough’s comment following news of the retirement of the local Unitarian minister at Moneyreagh. In learning of the new minister’s induction, David was ‘glad to hear that you are satisfied with your new minister as you moneyrea people are so hard to please. I believe you had a great day at the putting of him in’ (Cu 4). The Unitarian McIlrath brothers were more complimentary in their recollections of their minister at Killinchy. ‘You might let me know how the uniterians is getting on at home and especially Mr Mcaws flock if he is still their minister’, Hamilton requested thirteen years after emigrating (Il 19). Following the local minister’s retirement in Killinchy, Hamilton solemnly meditated, ‘He has been in charge over that congretation a long time now, and I expect he has done his duty. We have no churches of that sort here and no one that I know of convenient that I could ask for a subscription except James’ (Il 29). The esteem in which the McIlraths held their minister was evident when his ability was contrasted with the local Southbridge preacher. Although James McIlrath admired the preaching ability of his local minister, ‘One of those men that can take out a text square Himself up and deliver a very good sermon without (Hem or Ha) none of those written affairs’ he forlornly admitted, ‘but still I for one can scarcely swallow all He says not with the same ease as His Revnd seems to deliver it anyhow’ (Il 18). This is the only comment to appear about Protestant ministers in our letters from New Zealand. The letters therefore supply little evidence about the influence of Irish-born Protestant clergy in New Zealand. Donald Akenson, however, has speculated that a disproportionately large segment of Anglican clergymen in nineteenth-century New Zealand were trained in Ireland.38 The few letters from Irish Anglicans in New Zealand fail to throw any light on this matter. Initial analysis of clerical biographies challenges Akenson’s assumption as most trained outside of Ireland.39

38

Donald Harman Akenson, Half the world from home: perspectives on the Irish in New Zealand, 1860–1950 (Wellington, 1990), p. 199. 39 See Michael Blain’s compilation of biographical details of Anglican clergy: Clergy in the diocese of Auckland, 1814–1868: a directory of Anglican clergy who served in the northern part of New Zealand, including the provinces of Taranaki and Auckland, and in the southern Pacific, between 1814 and 1868 (Auckland, 1999); Clergy in the diocese of Wellington, 1839–1894 252

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Of those clerics who were trained in Ireland, the majority were educated at Trinity College, Dublin, including Moore Richard Neligan, bishop of Auckland from 1903 to 1910, and Robert Maunsell.40 Unlike their Protestant counterparts, Catholic priests and religious received praise when correspondents were confronted with the death of loved ones. As the virtually inconsolable Annie Dempsey sorrowfully wrote of her husband’s death in 1892: He died and the Priest reading oer him. He had one of the largest Funerals that was ever seen at Waimate. The Children all walked in Procession. May the lord help me. I nerly went wild the day he was taken out onely the nuns come to me and concoled me and only I had the Prayers of the Pries I was shure I could have never stud it. (De 8)

When William Lysaght’s mother died in Limerick in 1871 William told his brother Edward in Auckland, ‘Our curate was very constant in attendance upon her and so were the good Sisters of Mercy – from Doon Convent. To their kindness and attention (through the mercy of God) she owes the happy and contented death she died’ (Ly 5). Mary Shanahan reported in 1892 from Kilflynn in County Kerry that her mother got a very happy death. She expired peacefully in the Priest’s arms. Dr Behan paid her several visits to no good. He was coming until she told him stay away that she could not be cured. Every day she should get the looking glass to look at herself & she always’s said she would never rise off her bed. Death foresh[ad]owed her. (Sh 2)

In offering consolation to correspondents, by practical as well as spiritual means, Catholic clerics and nuns endeared themselves further to their laity. Responses to death in Irish–New Zealand letters ranged from intense grief to calm resignation. Several commentators shared Mary Shanahan’s verdict of a happy death, particularly when it removed the deceased from the cares and tribulations of the world. Such sentiments were presumably voiced to ease both the writer and recipient. When Daniel Strong’s aunt died, his cousin Lizzie lamented, ‘God has called her to a happy home beyond the skys’ where grief cant reach her more’ (St 4). In similar vein, Kate Keane consoled her

(Wellington, 1998); Clergy in the diocese of Christchurch, 1850–1890 (Christchurch, 1994); Clergy in the diocese of Christchurch, 1890–1925 (Christchurch, 1994). 40 Aspects of Dublin-born Moore Richard Neligan’s life are contained in J. S. G. Cameron, ‘The episcopate of Moore Richard Neligan: bishop of Auckland, 1903–1910’, S.Th. thesis, St John’s College, 1973. For the life of Limerick-born Robert Maunsell see Helen Garrett, Te manihera: the life and times of the pioneer missionary Robert Maunsell (Auckland, 1991). 253

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sister Mary after their father’s death in 1902 at the Ballyheeny Workhouse41 from a tumour of the kidney by assuring that ‘He was very happy & glad to die for he suffered great pain from kidney disease only 3 months ailing’ (Ke 5). Widows also reported the contented deaths of their husbands. Seventy-fiveyear-old John Sullivan, for instance, reputedly ‘died a happy death; just as you would put the candle out’ in 1904 (Su 1). Margaret Kilpatrick sighed after her husband’s death, ‘David has gone to rest’ (Ki 14). The demise of siblings was also commented upon, in ways that echoed the view of death as a release. Catherine Colgan, upon learning of her brother’s suicide in New Zealand, remarked hopefully, ‘I hope he is better off not in this weary world’ (Co 7). From Tipperary, Martin Strong movingly related the death of his brother from cancer: ‘They opened him, but was unable to remove the lump as it was connected to a vital part. He came home & after a few months peacefully passed away. He faced death fully reconciled & never murmured. We all feel it awfully’ (St 5). Childhood fatalities were also regularly relayed, but reported concisely and with little emotion, suggesting that such trauma was too difficult to elaborate on. From Antrim, Catherine Colgan ‘was so sorry to hear of M rs Blacks 2 children dying on the one day’ (Co 1) and Margaret Kilpatrick lost a grandchild to bronchitis (Ki 14). Mary Ann Gilpin documented the death of her baby daughter who ‘only lived 1⁄2 an hour’ (Gn 3). Thomas Hughes, meanwhile, learned that his sister ‘Amelia buried one of her little children six weeks ago. It died from Diptheria and was only 4 days ill’ (Hu 14). When James O’Neill, ‘carpenter’, died as a result of chronic disorder of the kidney and bladder at 72 years of age on 14 April 1893 at Costley Street, only six of his offspring were alive. The loss of ‘his 8 infant children’ is recorded on the O’Neill tombstone at Symonds Street cemetery.42 Death inevitably generated discussion of burial services and graveyards, particularly among Catholic correspondents. As one nineteenth-century commentator has suggested, ‘The Roman Catholic community have usually professed to attach a greater degree of sacredness to their burial places than Protestants.’43 When Mary Lysaght died, her son William proudly informed his brother, ‘We had a splendid funeral and had 20 gallons of Whiskey. Kept up the old style’ (Ly 5).44 Unlike some correspondents, William Lysaght

41

For a discussion of the workhouse in County Waterford see Christine Kinealy, ‘The workhouse system in county Waterford, 1838–1923’ in William Nolan and Thomas P. Power (eds), Waterford history and society (Dublin, 1992), pp 579–96. 42 Work on the Southern Motorway claimed two-thirds of the Catholic cemetery and by 1968 approximately 4,100 graves had been disinterred. Memorials erected in the Catholic and Anglican sections of the cemetery record the marked graves disturbed during the works. Fortunately, the O’Neill headstone survived and now lies flat, encased in cement, with half a dozen other surviving stones. 43 Typescript of Xerox Auckland Newspapers 1880s, A.C.D.A. 44 A letter sent from the McCarthys of Ballinlough, Leap, County Cork, to family members 254

THE IMPORTANCE OF FAITH

remained silent as to his mother’s burial place. Yet other letters from Ireland, particularly those from Catholic correspondents, highlight the importance to the bereaved of funerals and burial places. Eight months after her marriage Isabella Monan suffered the loss of her husband. As Isabella’s parents explained to their migrant daughter Margaret from Ballyquintin, County Down in 1889: He was a sealer and was coming into Dublin of a long voge and it was very sorce weather and he fell from the mast of the ship and was dronded but his body was got and Pat went up to Dublin and got him buried. He is buried in glass neven [Glasnevin]. It is a lovley place. May the lord have marcey on all there souls. (Mo 1)

James Keane’s burial at Clashmore graveyard, meanwhile, prompted his daughter Kate’s claim, ‘We could not be shown greater respect if we had 2 thousand a year for rich & poor flocked to our Fathers funeral. People marvelled at the funeral. It was about 2 miles in length’ (Ke 5). There was disappointment, however, that ‘theres no more room in the family vault’ at Ferry Point, looking across the bay towards Youghal (Ke 5). As with many Irish burials, James Keane was buried separately from his wife. According to his daughter Kate: When I go to Clashmore I am going to place an everlasting wreath on Father’s grave & also on Mother’s in Dungarvan churchyard. Mother is buried with her own people (the Currans) & the grave is just opposite the home where she was born. I’ve been there & it is the biggest farmhouse in the old parish. I am going if possible to get a photo of the graves of Father & Mothers when I am home for I don’t expect I shall ever visit only once more. (Ke 5)

Mary Shanahan also reported the funeral of her mother in Kerry in which her plot was separate from her husband’s, but for different reasons: ‘She is buried alongside Michael her Brother in Kilfeighney there was no way alongside when Father was buried. She was buried very respectable & had a very large funeral’ (Sh 2). From Tipperary, John Strong made the pilgrimage to the graves of his cousins in Dublin only to discover ‘I had the numbers found the spot But found also that others were burried in the same grave. Poor fellows’ (St 6). When Daniel’s aunt died his cousin John revealed, ‘Ah Dan that old woman loved you as her own son But tall weeds now grow over her grave under the shadow of Lorrha’s old Abbey’ (St 6).

in America reported on the provision of six gallons of whiskey at a funeral in 1896. The sequence also testifies to the significance of burial places. See Patricia Trainor O’Malley, ‘“I remain your fond sister, Katie McCarthy, Ballinlough”: letters to America from a dying sister’ in Mizen Journal, vi (1998), pp 87–104. I am grateful to Barra Ó Donnabháin for bringing this article to my attention. 255

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Only one Protestant correspondent in Ireland discussed the burial of a family member. Hugh Ferguson reported his father’s death in 1903 to his migrant sister: ‘He was in declining health for a good while wearing gradually weaker & weaker but the last sickness came more suddenly than any of us expected . . . . We had the friends from Newtownards up here at the funeral which took place on Tuesday last in Seagoe burying ground’ (Gn 4). Burial places featured to a lesser extent in the letters of Irish migrants, prompting recipients to seek clarification. When a neighbour from County Louth was killed in New Zealand, Michael Flanagan received a letter from the dead man’s mother: ‘I am Glad to heare of him getting a decent buirial . . . . If you would be so kind as to let me know the name of the churchyard that Patt was buired in as i ever will think of it’ (Fl 11). On occasion, colonial graves of Irish migrants attested to their ethnicity by proclaiming their place of birth or being inscribed with Irish motifs. William Quinn’s headstone, for instance, provides a lasting testimony to his date of arrival in Auckland and his place and date of birth, while the O’Neill headstone is decorated with shamrocks.45 Besides reporting the demise of their connexions and discussing their final resting place, correspondents also lapsed into thoughtful reflections. The most substantial comments in this regard emerged from James McIlrath. In 1870, upon learning of the premature death of his brother, James wrote the following comment on his own mortality: Death so sudden and its victim so young I hope will be a warning to each and all of us so to live the remainder of our lives that we may be prepared to Die. We know not how soon our souls may [omitted: be] called upon to give an account of the deeds done in the Body. One thing is certin that Die we must sooner or later and that every Day bring us nearer that awful and solemn event. But if god in his infinite wisdom sees fit to remove us from this earthly scene may He also enable us to submit without a murmer and in whatever way He deals with us his erring Children. And altho we may have to drink deeply of a bitter cup being sure that all is for the best may we have from the heart Aclaim not my will but thine be done Oh Father. (Il 16)

Death struck the McIlrath household in Killinchy again fifteen years later. When he learned of his father’s death James remarked with characteristic resilience, ‘Let us not mourn and may he recieve that welcome sentance well done good and faithful servant enter ye into the joy of thy Lord’. He added: I hope Mother is bearing her bereavement with C[h]ristian resignation and that when it pleases god to call Her Home she may like him pass away peacefully and join him again in that land where parting is unknown. (Mother you have had a long lifetime. You have had length length of days beyound the alloted span and we are

45

William Quinn’s grave is in Waikumete Cemetery, Area 3, Block 5, Lot 99a. 256

THE IMPORTANCE OF FAITH

told that old age is honourable. Be resigned, and the time is not far distant when we all though now seperated shall meet again. None of us can reasonably expect to live to your age but may we live so that when our time comes we may be ready. (Il 31)

When James’s wife died five years later in 1890, the bitterness and anguish of his grief was aptly captured in his haunting account of her passing: I think I might say there is not a pang that rends the heart of which I have not had a part. But we are told that the Lord loveth whom He chasteneth and that He will in no wise lay upon us more than we can bear. But still I have been constrained to say with Him who spake as never man spake Father if it is possible let this cup pass from me but not my will but thine be done. My cup was full to overflowing and I had to Drink it to the very Dregs and a Bitter Drink it was that Night my Dear partner breathed Her last. (Il 33)

Perhaps one of the more poignant reflections on death was that of Philip Carroll, whose melancholy presumably stemmed from his final medical examination. Suffering from Bright’s disease, Philip was advised that ‘the disease was very far advanced and the chance of a cure were very remote’. As such, ‘My sole ambition after that report was to get back to my wife and family in New Zealand before I died.’46 Carroll left Tilbury Dock on 17 October 1925. His voyage on the RMS Ormonde took him through the Suez Canal as he figured the ‘journey would be less monotonous’ and would provide him with the chance to see several Australian cities. Upon arrival in Australia, he underwent severe scrutiny owing to the fact that he had skipped a medical parade. He admitted he was suffering from Bright’s disease but refused a medical examination as he did not want to learn ‘that I had contracted some other disease . . . that would only tend to make my short span of life more miserable’. He eventually sailed to Auckland on the Maunganui and arrived on 8 December 1925. Philip survived for another seven months, dying on 15 July 1926, the day after his wife’s birthday. He was 37 years old. His daughter Maureen died six weeks later. Unlike the references to death in Irish–Australian correspondence, which were brief and unadorned,47 discussion of death in the letters exchanged between Ireland and New Zealand was often extensive, emotional, and replete with religious images. This may reflect a divergence between the writers but is probably more attributable to the contrasting chronology of the letters analysed. The later time period from which the Irish–New Zealand letters emanate is also the period in which the ‘devotional revolution’ swept Ireland. Death also prompted admissions of loneliness among Irish correspondents at home and abroad. West Coast hotelkeeper Ellen Piezzi, for instance, wrote

46 47

This document was kindly made available by Br Carroll. Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 506. 257

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

in 1879, three years after her husband’s untimely death, ‘i am very lonley after my poor Dead husband and i soo yong’ (Pi 2). Another young widow, Annie Dempsey, also suffered despair following her husband’s sudden death. As she reported in 1892, nine months after her husband’s demise: ‘I feel very lonley for Poor Frances as there never was a better nor a kinder Husband not onely since I was married to him but since first I seen his face.’ Five months later she reiterated these feelings: ‘I do feele very lonley for my Poor Husband. Night or day he is never out of my mind nor I don’t believe he ever will’ (De 9, 10). Older widows, such as Agnes Lambert, likewise conveyed their loneliness following the death of their husbands. ‘I am very lonely. How I woud like some of you out here with me’, Agnes Lambert confessed (La 4). Only occasionally did Irish women correspondents refer implicitly to their isolation, unrelated to death. The orphaned dressmaker Bessie Macready, for instance, claimed from Christchurch in 1881 that she was a ‘poor weary pilgrim alone’ and had experienced ‘many, very, very, weary days and often longed for the old home & friends’. Yet these reflections should not be taken out of context, for in the same letter Bessie went on to document her satisfaction with her engagement as a housekeeper. ‘I am very comfortable just now’, she explained (Ma 3). In similar vein, Annie Dempsey reported in 1883, shortly after her arrival in New Zealand, ‘when I Am All Alone I often Fret’. Her next sentence, however, declared that she had ‘no great reason to Fret’, for she ‘had very Good loock since I come to Newzealand’ (De 4). Male correspondents also rarely reported on their isolation, but when they did they emphasised their situation in positive rather than melancholy terms. James McIlrath reported in 1862 from Canterbury, ‘I have been here six months and I have not seen 20 different persons since but we are never less alone than when alone. I feel as happy as a King’ (Il 6). The only explicit example of the negative effect of male isolation appears from a second-hand source and emerges from the twentieth century. In 1911 Michael Farrell reported from South Canterbury to his brother in Tipperary that ‘One young fellow named Cody from Armagh drowned himself in Wanganui River not long ago. He was so lonely’ (Fa 1). These accounts of loneliness among Irish correspondents in New Zealand stand in contrast to similar expressions from their associates in North America.48 An independent statistical analysis of a selection of letters analysed by Kerby Miller in his study of Irish emigrants to America found that expressions of homesickness appeared in 18 per cent of letters.49 Though such a figure hardly supports Miller’s claim that loneliness and homesickness pervaded letters from Irish correspondents in North America, it is still striking, when

48

Kerby A. Miller, Emigrants and exiles: Ireland and the Irish exodus to North America (New York, 1985), p. 512. 49 John Hanley, untitled paper, Trinity College, Dublin, 1982, cited in David Fitzpatrick, ‘The Irish in America: exiles or escapers’ in Reviews in American history, xv (1987), p. 275. 258

THE IMPORTANCE OF FAITH

compared with letters sent from Irish migrants elsewhere, that such sentiments appeared in almost one-fifth of his sources. Fitzpatrick’s collection of letters, for example, contains only two references to loneliness, and these arose from Irish women in Australia.50 As we have seen, expressions of loneliness in letters from Irish migrants in New Zealand were primarily confined to women, most significantly widows, and were mainly voiced on the death of a loved one. Death instigated revelations of loneliness in letters from Ireland. When Hamilton McIlrath learned of his aunt’s death in Killinchy, he regretted, ‘They will be very Lonely now’ (Il 5). The death of James Keane in 1902 left his family inconsolable. ‘Mossie & I were very lonely indeed’ (Ke 4) sister Kate revealed. And following Robert Hughes’s death, his wife predicted a ‘lon[e]ly Xmas’ (Hu 14). Unlike Irish correspondents in New Zealand, non-migrant letter writers voiced their loneliness and loss not only at times of death. Intriguingly, male as well as female correspondents in Ireland were as likely to admit to such feelings. Periods of non-communication generated Richard Flanagan’s admission in 1870: ‘your long intervals of silence render us lonely’ (Fl 10). The departure of family and friends from Ireland also gave rise to expressions of grief. When a friend left Waterford in the early 1880s Kate Keane was left feeling ‘very lonely after her’ (Ke 3). When Daniel Strong elected to leave Ireland at the age of 24, his leaving caused deep distress among his cousins. As John Strong painfully predicted in 1883, the year of Daniel’s migration, ‘we will have a lonely Christmas without you’ (St 2). Similarly, when Philip Carroll’s sister returned to England from Tipperary, he conceded that ‘the house feels quite lonely since she left’ (Cl 11). A visit to an old haunt also prompted Philip’s remark that he felt ‘lonely passing it’ (Cl 13). Contemplating his return to New Zealand, a disheartened Philip admitted that ‘now that the time for parting is coming close I am feeling very lonely’ (Cl 23). For Robert Hughes, it was the absence of children in his household that led him to write, ‘We will feel our latter years lonesome’ (Hu 4). These confessions of loneliness by male Catholic correspondents were echoed by female letter writers. Like Robert Hughes, an acquaintance of Margaret Kilpatrick’s admitted from Armagh to a ‘lonely separation from all my children’ (Ki 4). Also in Armagh, Margaret Kilpatrick’s sister-in-law wrote, ‘I am not so lonely’ but ‘if I feel lonely I got out for a run on the bicycle’ (Ki 15). If her colonial-based correspondent did not express loneliness, Maggie Moran was less reserved. She revealed ‘I feel very lonely when passing up and down.’ She also wrote that another friend ‘said that “he was very lonesome after you”’ while another acquaintance ‘wonders why you don’t write to him oftener. He feels lonely when you don’t’ (Fa 5). A number of explanations account for these diverse accounts of loneliness among non-migrants. Though their admissions stand in striking contrast to

50

See Fitzpatrick, Oceans of consolation, p. 614. 259

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

the relative silence among their migrant counterparts, we must be careful not to presume that migrant letter writers did not themselves ever undergo periods of despair. Indeed, as we have seen, death frequently provoked admissions of loneliness. Death could also appear as a premonition in the dream worlds of Irish correspondents at home and abroad.51 According to Agnes Lambert, her father was ‘dead I know for I have Been dreaming about him so much’ (La 1). Gumdigger Patrick Quinn informed his brother in Belfast, ‘I Dremt one night about 6 months ago that I saw my mother standing in the Wharrie and I tho[ugh]t that shee looked verry sorefull [sorrowful]’ (Qu 1). Margaret Kilpatrick’s mother appears to have placed great reliance on dreams. From Auckland, following her arrival, Margaret asked her brother to tell her mother that ‘she dreamed a very straight dream about this place’ (Ki 1). In response to the letter, Mary Anne Reid told her daughter, ‘the long dream I had about you 2 years ago is nearly fulfilled’ (Ki 2). Margaret’s brother George placed less credence in dreams but had his beliefs challenged in 1880: I awoke this morning early out of a dream. There is something to me at present very strange about it. I dreamt I had a pretty long telegram from my Sister Margt in N. Z. and before reading it the excitement awoke me. This is only 3 hours since and I have not quite recovered and the arrival of your letter seem to strange to me who never had the least faith in dreams or anything pertaining to them. (Ki 8)

Margaret Kilpatrick also dreamed for when told of a friend’s death in Armagh, ‘Sophia and I made that “clean shift” for her, which you dreamed of’ (Ki 4). For correspondents such as Catherine Colgan, death was the ultimate reunion of long parted kin: ‘I send my love to all my dear children and I hope to meet you all if not in this earth I hope we will all meet in heaven where there will be no parting’ (Co 5). Elizabeth McCleland also expressed the wish that ‘Hoapeing that we shall one day meet in Heaven where we never have to part’ (Cd 2). From Sligo in 1924, Robert Hughes echoed his son’s desire ‘that we shall all share that Heavenly joy of meeting in our Heavenly Father’s home through the atoning blood of our Redeemer’ (Hu 4). Protestant migrants also shared the anticipation voiced by their non-migrant counterparts of a heavenly reunion. In 1882 James McIlrath recognised ‘as it is likely we shall never meet again in this world I have a certain hope we shall all meet in a better where there is no parting’ (Il 30). Anticipation of a heavenly reunion undoubtedly made separation from kinfolk more bearable. An exploration of the faith of Irish correspondents shows that belief played a powerful role at home and abroad in offering consolation to separated

51 Irish–American correspondence also contained premonitions of death. See Miller, Emigrants and exiles, p. 514.

260

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kinfolk. Though prayer was its most visible manifestation among Catholic and Protestant correspondents, the letters reveal certain differences between Catholics and Protestants. Whereas Protestants were more likely to discuss scriptural aspects of their worship, Catholics focused upon devotional elements. Protestant correspondents also considered a range of denominations competing for adherents. Faith, for both Catholics and Protestants, was particularly crucial when death struck. Religious belief, together with the support of clergy and religious, offered solace and comfort. Reports of funerals and burial places were also significant in this religious discourse, in supplying recipients with vital information about the final days and resting place of loved ones. Separation by death was also the most common cause of admissions of loneliness among migrants. Non-migrants, on the other hand, also acknowledged the loneliness caused by the migration of their loved ones, a situation that prompted several to dwell on the prospect of spiritual reunion. It was their faith, as well as the company of friends and relatives, that made migration a bearable undertaking for many Irish letter writers.

261

Conclusion

This book, incorporating letters spanning the years 1840 to 1937, records the diverse thoughts, feelings, and experiences of individual Irish correspondents who endeavoured to maintain intimate connexions with their separated kinfolk. Their alternating euphoric and restrained reflections, studied in conjunction with biographical details, illuminate the critical importance of family involvement at origin and destination in directing and sustaining Irish migration to New Zealand. These migrants, however, were not passive followers in established migration chains, but were active and deliberate movers, selecting their destination based on a range of information derived from their ‘global networks of communication’.1 These connexions supplied significant advice and encouragement in response to queries about selecting New Zealand as a destination. They also provided descriptions about preparing for the voyage, and related what to expect during the journey at sea. Comparisons between the two countries also contained implicit encouragement to emigrate and rapturous depictions of New Zealand propelled many to the country’s distant shores. Indeed, letters constituted a reliable and immediate source of information about prospects and conditions abroad and together with the availability of assisted and nominated passages were more influential in directing migration to New Zealand than propaganda campaigns. Arising out of this ongoing networking, extensive kin and neighbourhood ties, based on Irish birth, emerged in New Zealand. Such associations present an additional challenge to claims that feeble kin and community ties characterised New Zealand’s nineteenth-century society and that mobility diminished kinship bonds. The considerable attachments documented in the letters were generally harmonious, with many examples existing of powerful alliances. Yet the extent and intensity of these ties at home and abroad could occasionally spark dissension, prompting conflict in and between families and friends. Such bonds became particularly vulnerable when migrants asserted their individual interests at the expense of collective strategies. As a result these tenuous relationships grew increasingly fraught or ceased altogether.

1

D. H. Akenson, ‘Reading the texts of rural immigrants: letters from the Irish in Australia, New Zealand, and North America’ in Donald H. Akenson, Canadian papers in rural history (Ontario, 1990), ii, 398. 262

CONCLUSION

Such strains provide strong support for arguing that discordant relationships were a motive for migration. Likewise, the disruption to households arising from the death of one or both parents may also have hastened departure. Quite apart from the widespread companionship supplied by friends and family in New Zealand, the correspondence also reveals the presence of associates at other destinations within the Irish diaspora. North America and Australia, in particular, were major areas of settlement and some migrants spent time in these countries before arriving in New Zealand. Non-migrant intermediaries in Ireland kept Irish migrants in New Zealand informed of these contacts and also documented the instances of return migration to Ireland. Indeed, reverse migration is a major theme in Irish–New Zealand correspondence, with reports, requests, and longings to return to Ireland featuring in half of all sequences. The reasons for reverse migration included disappointment at destination, success abroad, pressing obligations, inheritance issues, marriage, and temporary visits. Irish migrants in New Zealand were also consistently urged to return to Ireland and several migrants thoughtfully contemplated this. Departure from Ireland, then, did not necessarily entail a permanent separation. Indeed, it is significant that many migrants claimed at the outset of their departure that their movement abroad was only a temporary undertaking. Whether these assertions were genuinely intended is unknown. Perhaps such declarations were also a means to ease the malaise caused by departure, an outcome voiced more readily by non-migrants. Nevertheless, few correspondents returned permanently to Ireland, preferring the attractions of New Zealand. Satisfaction with life abroad also contributed to the lack of interest in political matters in Ireland. Whereas migrants received detailed accounts of Ireland’s fragile political state from their home correspondents, they rarely expressed interest or concern in Irish affairs. Rather they were preoccupied with domestic concerns and often wrote about political issues in New Zealand society. The lack of political leadership, such as existed in the United States, and the ambivalent position towards Irish issues adopted by the Catholic Church in New Zealand also contributed to the dearth of obvious expressions of nationalist feeling. Nevertheless, Irish letter writers in New Zealand continued to identify with their heritage, though, perhaps surprisingly, Protestants were more likely than Catholics to voice their Irishness. For Catholic migrants their Irish identity was nurtured by the Catholic Church in an effort to encourage continuing adherence to the faith. In general, religious faith was a fundamental component of wellbeing and spiritual solace for Catholic and Protestant Irish alike at home and abroad. In what ways though do Irish–New Zealand letters contrast with other studies using similar correspondence? In common with Irish–Australian correspondents, migrants writing from New Zealand expressed little sense of grievance or disappointment towards their destination, demonstrated minimal sectarian animosity, and stressed the importance of home. Contrasts with 263

IRISH MIGRANTS IN NEW ZEALAND, 1840–1937

Irish–Australian personal letters include insightful impressions of Irish and colonial political matters, criticism of kin and neighbours in Ireland, elaborate accounts of death, engaging discussions of male–female relations, extensive reports on marriages, and substantial accounts of the negative aspects of alcohol. Such contrasts seemingly reflect the varying responses of diverse Irish backgrounds and foreign foregrounds. The correspondents in this study, for instance, emerged primarily from Munster and north-east Ulster. In particular, Antrim and Down, the two most Protestant counties in Ireland, supplied several writers. Significantly, few letters in this study originate before 1860. Consequently, the representations differ substantially from accounts that are based on correspondents in North America. The environment in which migrant correspondents found themselves also influenced the content of their letters. As we have seen, Irish migrants in New Zealand made a relatively easy transition to life in New Zealand and supplied seductive accounts of their life half the world from home. But if Irish correspondents were largely satisfied in ‘the desired haven’ why did so few Irish migrants elect to settle in New Zealand? Distance, the cost of the journey, and the greater accessibility of Britain, North America, and Australia all played a part in directing the movement of Irish migrants elsewhere. Additionally, the longer history of Irish movement to these competing destinations and greater knowledge about these settlements may have precluded the settlement of many natives of Ireland in New Zealand. Finally, New Zealand’s small size and the pervasive reports of conflict with the Maori may also have directed Irish migrants elsewhere. What then are the implications of this book for the study of the Irish diaspora, the study of the Irish in New Zealand, migration theory, and the use of correspondence in the study of migration? First, it is clear that the personal narrative of migration differs starkly from the historical narrative perpetuated by historians in relation to the Irish diaspora, immigrants in New Zealand, and Irish migration to New Zealand. By contrast with the sweeping interpretations applied to the Irish diaspora proffered by Kerby Miller in Emigrants and Exiles, not all Irish migrants were exiles, dysfunctional settlers, or victims of British ‘misrule’. This study reveals a more nuanced explanation of Irish migration. In addition, Irish correspondents in New Zealand adapted smoothly to their new life abroad, with little sense of being atomised. Second, it is important to view Irish migration to New Zealand within a family context, which reveals migrants to be deliberate rather than passive movers. Though differences existed between Protestant and Catholic letters, both displayed similar preoccupations with family concerns. In the light of these findings we may perhaps argue the necessity for a new edition of Irish–American correspondence, and the publication of other works using correspondence between writers and recipients at other points of the Irish diaspora. Such compilations might well confirm the influence of Irish background and foreign foreground in dictating the content of personal letters. 264

CONCLUSION

Third, we can see the diversity of individual experiences of migration and the impact, both exultant and despondent, on migrants and non-migrants. A study of these letters suggests explanations for non-migration, repeat migration, and return migration. The use of personal correspondence in examining these issues provides a necessary corrective to studies based on statistical analysis, in which the experiences of individuals are largely hidden. The evidence of these letters highlights broad issues of the Irish migrant experience in New Zealand. Given the significance of private correspondence as an alluring avenue for exploring migration, the letters exchanged between English, Scottish, and Welsh settlers in New Zealand with their acquaintances should be located, transcribed, edited, and published. Such an agenda would permit comparative analysis to ascertain if these letter writers shared the preoccupations featured in Irish–New Zealand correspondence. Would the letters of non-Irish writers reflect a strong family involvement in migration or mirror the writings of nonIrish colonial women which emphasised the disruption caused by an absence of family ties? Would non-Irish correspondents also discuss the smouldering conflicts and ardent alliances among their kin and neighbourhood networks? Finally, would their bonds with non-migrants echo James McIlrath’s reflection, half the world from home, that ‘Seas may divide and oacens roll between But Friends is Friends whatever intervene’?

265

Appendix Letters Armstrong sequence, 1859–1865 (3) (Ar 1) 25 Aug. 1859, John Armstrong (Crofton Downs) to his sister Marian Armstrong (Dublin) (Ar 2) 3 Dec. 1861, John Armstrong (Bell Block Stockade, Taranaki) to his sister Marian Armstrong (Dublin) (Ar 3) 6 May 1865, John Armstrong (New Plymouth, Taranaki) to his sister Marian Armstrong (Dublin) Bell sequence, 1886 (1) (Be 1) Nov. 1886, David Bell (Duntroon, Otago) to his brother John Bell (Kells, Antrim) Cardwell sequence, 1879–1880 (2) (Ca 1) 24 Apr. 1879, William Cardwell (Christchurch) to his siblings (Tonaghmore, Down) (Ca 2) 15 Aug. 1880, William Cardwell (Christchurch) to his brother Samuel Cardwell (Tonaghmore, Down) Carroll sequence, 1921–1925 (24) (Cl 1) 5 Feb. 1921, Philip Carroll (Henderson, Auckland) to his cousin Tess (Tipperary) (Cl 2) 14 Apr. 1925, Philip Carroll (Wellington) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 3) 19 Apr. 1925, Philip Carroll (RMS Arawa) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 4) 10 May 1925, Philip Carroll (RMS Arawa) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 5) 30 May 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) 266

APPENDIX

(Cl 6) 6 June 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 7) 13 June 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 8) 13 June 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 9) 20 June 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 10) 27 June 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 11) 5 July 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 12) 11 July 1925, Philip Carroll (Ballycahill, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 13) 18 July 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 14) 29 July 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 15) 2 Aug. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 16) 9 Aug. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 17) 14 Aug. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 18) 22 Aug. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 19) 30 Aug. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 20) 12 Sept. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 21) 19 Sept. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 22) 28 Sept. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 23) 4 Oct. 1925, Philip Carroll (Nenagh, Tipperary) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) (Cl 24) 11 Oct. 1925, Philip Carroll (Dublin) to his wife Nina (Henderson, Auckland) Coghlan sequence, 1890 (1) (Cg 1) 24 June 1890, Cecilia Coghlan (Foxford, Mayo) to her step-daughter Ellen Anne Edwards (Hokitika, West Coast)

267

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Colgan sequence, 1893–1901 (8) (Co 1) 25 Feb. 1893, Catherine Colgan (Tonduff, Antrim) to her daughter Rose Gamble (East Taieri, Otago) (Co 2) 22 Sept. 1894, Catherine Colgan (Tonduff, Antrim) to her daughter Rose Gamble (East Taieri, Otago) (Co 3) 19 Oct. 1897, Catherine Colgan (Tonduff, Antrim) to her daughter Rose Gamble (East Taieri, Otago) (Co 4) 19 Oct. 1897, Catherine Colgan (Tonduff, Antrim) to her son Johnnie McMullan (East Taieri, Otago) (Co 5) 6 Feb. 1899, Catherine Colgan (Tonduff, Antrim) to her daughter Rose Gamble (East Taieri, Otago) (Co 6) 19 Feb. 1901, Catherine Colgan (Tonduff, Antrim) to her daughter Rose Gamble (East Taieri, Otago) (Co 7) June 1901, Catherine Colgan (Tonduff, Antrim) to her daughter Rose Gamble (East Taieri, Otago) (Co 8) 3 Nov. 1901, Catherine Colgan (Tonduff, Antrim) to her daughter Rose Gamble (East Taieri, Otago) Dawson sequence, 1924 (1) (Da 1) 30 July 1924, Brigid Dawson (Wanganui) to her sister Ellen Quinn (Carricknagalliah, Armagh) Dempsey sequence, c. 1883–1903 (11) (De 1) before 1883, Annie Dempsey (Waimate, South Canterbury) to her family (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 2) 1 Aug. 1883, Annie Dempsey (Waimate, South Canterbury) to her mother Margaret Dempsey (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 3) 8 Nov. 1884, Annie Dempsey (Waimate, South Canterbury) to her mother Margaret Dempsey (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 4) 3 Jan. 1885, Annie Dempsey (Waimate, South Canterbury) to her mother Margaret Dempsey (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 5) 6 Sept. 1888, Annie O’Brien (Waimate, South Canterbury) to her family (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 6) 16 Nov. 1888, Michael Dempsey (Waimate, South Canterbury) to his family (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 7) 6 Jan. 1891, Annie O’Brien (Midfield, South Canterbury) to her sister Eliza Burke (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 8) 13 May 1891, Annie O’Brien (Waiho, South Canterbury) to her mother Margaret Dempsey (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 9) 8 Jan. 1892, Annie O’Brien (Midfield, South Canterbury) to her mother Margaret Dempsey (Crecrin, Carlow) 268

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(De 10) 1 June 1892, Annie O’Brien (Midfield, South Canterbury) to her family (Crecrin, Carlow) (De 11) 24 Mar. 1903, Annie O’Brien (Midfield, South Canterbury) to her sister Eliza Burke (Crecrin, Carlow)

Dwyer sequence, 1846 (1) (Dw 1) 22 Mar. 1846, Hanora Dwyer (Dromkeen, Limerick) to her son Cornelius Dwyer (Waimea East, Nelson) (Dw 2) 19 Dec. 1902, Catherine Cunnane (Bekan, Mayo) to her cousin (Nelson) (Dw 3) 12 Nov. 1906, Catherine Cunnane (Bekan, Mayo) to her cousin (Nelson)

Farrell sequence, 1911 (9) (Fa 1) 15 Nov. 1911, Michael Farrell (Morven, Canterbury) to his brother Patrick Farrell (Ballinderry, Tipperary) (Fa 2) 20 Feb. 1914, Matt Farrell (Ballinderry, Tipperary) to his brother Patrick Farrell (Greymouth, West Coast) (Fa 3) 14 July 1914, Sr M. Patrick (Nenagh, Tipperary) to her former student May Sullivan (Greymouth, West Coast) (Fa 4) [c. 1914], Maggie Moran (Tipperary) to her friend May Sullivan (Greymouth, West Coast) (Fa 5) Nov. 1916, Maggie Moran (Borrisokane, Tipperary) to her friend May Sullivan (Greymouth, West Coast) (Fa 6) [c. 1920], Michael Farrell (Canterbury) to his brother Jack Farrell (Canterbury) (Fa 7) 28 Apr. 1920, Sr M. Agnes (Tipperary) to her former student May Farrell (Greymouth, West Coast) (Fa 8) [c. 1920], Sr M. Patrick (Borrisokane, Tipperary) to her former student May Farrell (Greymouth, West Coast) (Fa 9) 21 Sept. 1920, Fr Matt Fogarty (Rangiora) to his friend May Farrell (Greymouth, West Coast)

Flanagan sequence, 1867–1870 (17) (Fl 1) 24 Jan. 1867, Fr Richard Flanagan (Termonfeckin, Louth) to his nephews Patrick and Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 2) 10 Aug. 1867, Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) to his brother Richard Flanagan (London) 269

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(Fl 3) 1 June 1868, Richard Flanagan (London) to his brother Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 4) 5 Jan. 1869, Nicholas Flanagan (Ohio) to his brother Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 5) 17 Aug. 1869, Patrick Flanagan (Westport, West Coast) to his brother Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 6) 8 Sept. 1869, Patrick Flanagan (Coromandel) to his brother Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 7) 8 Oct. 1869, Patrick Flanagan (Grahamstown, Auckland) to his brother Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 8) 6 Dec. 1869, Patrick Flanagan (Grahamstown, Auckland) to his brother Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 9) 14 Dec. 1869, Patrick Flanagan (Grahamstown, Auckland) to his fiancée Kate O’Brien (Auckland) (Fl 10) 28 Jan. 1870, Richard Flanagan (London) to his brother Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 11) 10 May 1870, Bridget Kirk (Clogher Head, Louth) to Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 12) 12 May 1870, Fr Richard Flanagan (Termonfeckin, Louth) to his nephews Patrick and Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 13) 20 Aug. 1870, Richard Flanagan (London) to his brother Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 14) 5 Dec. 1870, Bridget Kirk (Clogher Head, Louth) to Michael Flanagan (Charleston, West Coast) (Fl 15) 14 Sept. 1876, J. W. Fox (Moonlight Creek, West Coast) to Michael Flanagan (California) (Fl 16) 23 May 1884, Philip McCarthy (Manaia, South Canterbury) to Michael Flanagan (California) (Fl 17) 8 June 1890, A. Burns (Reefton, West Coast) to Michael Flanagan (Termonfeckin, Louth)

Gilmer sequence, 1886 (2) (Gr 1) 29 June 1886, Samuel Gilmer (Wellington) to his brother William Gilmer (Mullaghanee, Monaghan) (Gr 2) 11 Sept. 1886, William Gilmer (Mullaghanee, Monaghan) to his brother Robert Gilmer (Wellington)

Gilmore sequence, 1874–1903 (13) (Ge 1) c. 1874 Andrew Gilmore (Belfast) to his brother Robert Gilmore (Ards Peninsula, Down) 270

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(Ge 2) 11 Feb. 1876, John Gilmore (Gravesend) to his parents (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 3) 12 Feb. 1876, John Gilmore (off Dungeness) to his brother Robert Gilmore (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 4) 24 Feb. 1876, John Gilmore (Portsmouth) to his brother Robert Gilmore (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 5) 1876, Alice Gilmore (Auckland) to her brother and sister (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 6) 16 Sept. 1876, John Gilmore (Tauranga) to his parents (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 7) 3 Apr. 1877, John Gilmore (Tauranga) to his brother Robert Gilmore (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 8) 1878, Andrew Gilmore (Tauranga) to his brother Robert Gilmore (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 9) 16 July 1878, Andrew Gilmore (Tauranga) to his family (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 10) 29 Oct. 1880, Andrew Gilmore (Tauranga) to his family (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 11) 24 March 1881, Andrew Gilmore (Tauranga) to his family (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 12) 28 March 1881, Andrew Gilmore (Tauranga) to his family (Ards Peninsula, Down) (Ge 13) 28 July 1903, Lizzie Gilmore (Tauranga) to her uncle Robert Gilmore (Ards Peninsula, Down)

Gilpin sequence, 1894–1904 (5) (Gn 1) 4 Apr. 1894, Mary Ann Gilpin (Balteagh, Armagh) to her sister Lizzie Ayson (Balclutha, Otago) (Gn 2) 7 May 1895, Mary Ann Gilpin (Balteagh, Armagh) to her sister Lizzie Ayson (Balclutha, Otago) (Gn 3) 28 Apr. [?], Mary Ann Gilpin (Balteagh, Armagh) to her sister Lizzie Ayson (Balclutha, Otago) (Gn 4) 17 May 1903, Hugh Ferguson (Ballynacor, Armagh) to his sister Lizzie Ayson (Balclutha, Otago) (Gn 5) 5 Jan. 1904, Mary Ann Gilpin (Balteagh, Armagh) to her sister Lizzie Ayson (Balclutha, Otago)

Hughes sequence, 1923–1937 (20) (Hu 1) 2 July 1923, Robert Hughes (Ballynahowna, Sligo) to his daughter-inlaw Dorie Hughes (Auckland) 271

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(Hu 2) 27 Mar. 1924, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his daughter-inlaw Dorie Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 3) 14 Apr. 1924, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 4) 16 June 1924, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 5) 14 July 1924, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 6) 14 Oct. 1924, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 7) 3 Nov. 1924, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 8) 15 Dec. 1924, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 9) 6 Sept. 1926, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 10) 14 Feb. 1927, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son and daughter-in-law Thomas and Dorie Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 11) 11 July 1927, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son and daughter-in-law Thomas and Dorie Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 12) 5 Mar. 1928, Robert Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to his son and daughter-in-law Thomas and Dorie Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 13) 28 Aug. 1928, Mary Jane Hughes (Camphill, Sligo) to her son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 14) 8 Jan. 1929, Mary Jane Hughes (Camphill, Mayo) to her son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 15) 10 Dec. 1929, Mary Jane Hughes (Camphill, Mayo) to her son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 16) 14 Jan. 1931, Mary Jane Hughes (Camphill, Mayo) to her son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 17) Sept. 1931, Mary Jane Hughes (Camphill, Mayo) to her son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 18) 12 Apr. 1934, Mary Jane Hughes (Camphill, Mayo) to her son Thomas Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 19) c. Jan. 1937, Harriett Hughes (Dromore West, Mayo) to her brother and sister-in-law Thomas and Dorie Hughes (Auckland) (Hu 20) 13 June 1937, Harriett Hughes (Dromore West, Mayo) to her brother and sister-in-law Thomas and Dorie Hughes (Auckland)

Keane sequence, 1886–1921 (11) (Ke 1) 24 Feb. 1886, Kate Keane (Clashmore, Waterford) to her sister Mary Keane (Wellington) 272

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(Ke 2) 8 Mar. 1886, John Keane (Clashmore, Waterford) to his sister Mary Keane (Wellington) (Ke 3) 2 June 1886, Kate Keane (Clashmore, Waterford) to her sister Mary Keane (Wellington) (Ke 4) 18 Oct. 1902, Kate Keane (London) to her sister Mary Walsh (Wellington) (Ke 5) 12 May 1903, Kate Keane (London) to her sister Mary Walsh (Wellington) (Ke 6) c. Dec. 1903, Kate Keane (London) to her sister Mary Walsh (Wellington) (Ke 7) 18 Dec. 1910, John Keane (Chicago) to his sister Mary Walsh (Wellington) (Ke 8) Dec. 1912, Kate Regan (London) to her sister Mary Walsh (Wellington) (Ke 9) 19 Apr. 1918, Kate Regan (Middlesex) to her sister Mary Walsh (Wellington) (Ke 10) 20 Aug. 1918, Kate Regan (Middlesex) to her sister Mary Walsh (Wellington) (Ke 11) 22 July 1921, Kate Regan (Middlesex) to her sister Mary Walsh (Wellington)

Kilpatrick sequence, 1862–1916 (15) (Ki 1) 25 Nov. 1862, Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) to her brother Thomas Reid (Armagh) (Ki 2) 5 Feb. 1863, Mary Anne Reid (Balleer, Armagh) to her daughter Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) (Ki 3) 27 May 1863 Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) to her sister-inlaw Mary Kilpatrick (Ballyards, Armagh) (Ki 4) 14 July 1864, Elizabeth Walker (Balleer, Armagh) to her friend Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) (Ki 5) 27 Aug. 1870, George Reid (Belfast) to his sister Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) (Ki 6) 26 Aug. 1875, Mary Kilpatrick (Ballyards, Armagh) to her brother David and sister-in-law Margaret Kilpatrick (Auckland) (Ki 7) 15 Nov. 1880, Sophy Lang (Broughan, Armagh) to her friend Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) (Ki 8) 22 Nov. 1880, George Reid (Belfast) to his sister Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) (Ki 9) 24 Nov. 1880, Joseph Reid (Balleer, Armagh) to his sister Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) (Ki 10) 21 Aug. 1899, Mary Kilpatrick (Ballyards, Armagh) to her sister-inlaw Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) 273

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(Ki 11) 7 Aug. 1903, Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) to her sister-inlaw Jane Kilpatrick (Ballyards, Armagh) (Ki 12) 1 Oct. 1903, Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) to her sister-inlaw Jane Kilpatrick (Ballyards, Armagh) (Ki 13) 22 Nov. 1903, Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) to her brother Thomas Reid (Armagh) (Ki 14) 14 July 1905, Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) to her brother Thomas Reid (Armagh) (Ki 15) 19 Sept. 1916, Sarah Reid (Armagh) to her sister-in-law Margaret Anne Kilpatrick (Auckland) Lambert sequence, 1877–1925 (6) (La 1) 16 Jan. 1877, Agnes Lambert (Auckland) to her sister Susan Jenkins (Millquarter, Antrim) (La 2) 13 Aug. 1877, Isabella McNeice (Belfast) to her sister Agnes (Auckland) (La 3) c. 1876–80, Agnes Lambert (Auckland) to her sister Susan Jenkins (Millquarter, Antrim) (La 4) 30 Aug. 1890, Agnes Lambert (Auckland) to her sister Susan Jenkins (Millquarter, Antrim) (La 5) 1924, Agnes Lambert (Auckland) to her sister Susan Jenkins (Millquarter, Antrim) (La 6) 1925, Agnes Lambert (Wanganui) to her niece Alice McMeekin (Millquarter, Antrim) Lysaght sequence, 1866–1873 (8) (Ly 1) 16 Apr. 1866, William Lysaght (Doon Glebe, Limerick) to his brother Edward Lysaght (Auckland) (Ly 2) 19 Dec. 1869, William Lysaght (Doon Glebe, Limerick) to his brother Edward Lysaght (Auckland) (Ly 3) 7 June 1870, Edmund Lysaght (Doon Glebe, Limerick) to his son Edward Lysaght (Auckland) (Ly 4) c. June 1870, William Lysaght (Doon Glebe, Limerick) to his brother Edward Lysaght (Auckland) (Ly 5) 18 Sept. 1871 William Lysaght (Doon Glebe, Limerick) to his brother Edward Lysaght (Auckland) (Ly 6) 2 Apr. 1872, Edward Lysaght (Doon Glebe, Limerick) to his wife Maria Lysaght (Auckland) (Ly 7) 10 Dec. 1872, Edmund Lysaght (Doon Glebe, Limerick) to his son Edward Lysaght (Auckland) (Ly 8) 27 Apr. 1873, Edmund Lysaght (Doon Glebe, Limerick) to his son Edward Lysaght (Auckland) 274

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McCleland sequence, 1840–1841 (2) (Cd 1) 1 Oct. 1840, Elizabeth McCleland (Dunronan, Londonderry) to her daughter Ann McCleland (Wellington) (Cd 2) 6 Sept. 1841, Elizabeth McCleland (Dunronan, Londonderry) to her daughter Ann McCleland (Wellington) McClure sequence, 1860–1865 (5) (Ce 1) 24 June 1860, James McClure (London) to his sisters (Belfast) (Ce 2) c. July 1860, Gordon McClure (London) to his sisters (Belfast) (Ce 3) 16 Aug. 1860, Gordon McClure (ship Evening Star) to his sisters (Belfast) (Ce 4) 28 May [c. 1862], Gordon McClure (Ryal Bush, Otago) to his sisters (Belfast) (Ce 5) 17 Sept. 1865, James McClure (Ryal Bush, Southland) to his sister Emily McClure (Belfast) McCullough sequence, 1875–1899 (6) (Cu 1) c. 7 Jan. 1875, David McCullough (London) to his parents (Moneyreagh, Down) (Cu 2) 12 Jan. 1875, David McCullough (London) to his aunt (Moneyreagh, Down) (Cu 3) 4 June 1875, David McCullough (Dunedin) to his family (Moneyreagh, Down) (Cu 4) 21 Dec. 1875, David McCullough (Dunedin) to his family (Moneyreagh, Down) (Cu 5) 1 June 1898, David McCullough (Cascade Creek, West Coast) to his parents (Moneyreagh, Down) (Cu 6) 2 July 1899, David McCullough (Waimangaroa, West Coast) to his parents (Moneyreagh, Down) McIlrath sequence, 1860–1907 (38) (Il 1) 4 Dec. 1860, James McIlrath (Liverpool) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 2) 7 Dec. 1860, James McIlrath (off Liverpool) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 3) 15 Mar. 1861, James McIlrath (Port Phillip, Australia) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 4) 23 Mar. 1861, John McIlrath (Balloo, Down) to his sons James and Hamilton McIlrath (Canterbury) 275

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(Il 5) 12 Aug. 1862, Hamilton McIlrath (Rangiora) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 6) 8 Sept. 1862, James McIlrath (Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 7) 1 Dec. 1863, James McIlrath (Lake Ellesmere, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 8) 5 Dec. 1863, Hamilton McIlrath (Rangiora) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 9) c. 1865, Hamilton McIlrath (Canterbury) to his brother (Balloo, Down) (Il 10) 12 Mar. 1866, James McIlrath (Lake Ellesmere, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 11) c. 1867, James McIlrath (Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 12) 9 June 1867, Hamilton McIlrath (Lake Ellesmere, Canterbury) to his parents (Balloo, Down) (Il 13) 10 Jan. 1868, James McIlrath (Leeston, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 14) 1 Oct. 1868, Hamilton McIlrath (Leeston, Canterbury) to his brother Robert McIlrath (Balloo, Down). (Il 15) 5 Sept. 1869, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 16) 29 Aug. 1870, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his parents (Balloo, Down) (Il 17) 21 Dec. 1872, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 18) 27 June 1873, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 19) 13 July 1873, Hamilton McIlrath (Kowhai Pass, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 20) 15 Feb. 1874, Hamilton McIlrath (Kowhai Pass, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 21) 6 Sept. 1874, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 22) 6 Jan. 1875, Hamilton McIlrath (Kowhai Pass, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 23) 31 Jan. 1875, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 24) 26 Aug. 1875, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 25) 11 Jan. 1876, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 26) 30 Apr. 1877, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 27) 15 Sept. 1877, James McIlrath (Southbridge, Canterbury) to his family (Balloo, Down) (Il 28) 15 July 1878, Hamilton McIlrath (Kowhai Pass, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) 276

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(Il 29) 15 July 1879, Hamilton McIlrath (Kowhai Pass, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 30) 8 May 1882, Hamilton McIlrath (Kowhai Pass, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 31) c. June 1885, James McIlrath (Lakeside, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 32) 2 May 1886, Hamilton McIlrath (Springfield, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 33) 24 Feb. 1891, James McIlrath (Lakeside, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 34) 8 Aug. 1892, James McIlrath (Lakeside, Canterbury) to his brother John McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 35) 23 Jan. 1893, James McIlrath (Lakeside, Canterbury) to his brother John McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 36) 13 Nov. 1900, James McIlrath (Lakeside, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 37) 22 Oct. 1906, Hamilton McIlrath (Springfield, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) (Il 38) 27 Feb. 1907, Hamilton McIlrath (Springfield, Canterbury) to his brother William McIlrath (Balloo, Down) McKelvey sequence, 1904–1913 (3) (Ky 1) 10 Mar. 1904, Alexander McKelvey (Auckland) to his father Robert McKelvey (Trinamadan, Tyrone) (Ky 2) 31 July 1907, Alexander McKelvey (Auckland) to his mother Margaret McKelvey (Trinamadan, Tyrone) (Ky 3) 3 Dec. 1913, Alexander McKelvey (Auckland) to his mother Margaret McKelvey (Trinamadan, Tyrone)

Macready sequence, 1878–1881 (3) (Ma 1) 27 Mar. 1878, Bessie Macready (Canterbury) to her cousins (Down) (Ma 2) 14 July 1881, Bessie Macready (Christchurch) to her cousin William (Down) (Ma 3) 14 July 1881, Bessie Macready (Christchurch) to her cousins M. and Jane (Down) McSparron sequence, 1860–1882 (7) (Sp 1) 4 Feb. 1860, Oliver McSparron (Geelong, Australia) to his parents (Umrycam, Londonderry) 277

APPENDIX

(Sp 2) 18 Nov. 1865, Oliver McSparron (Dunedin, Otago) to his father Archibald McSparron (Umrycam, Londonderry) (Sp 3) 1868, Oliver McSparron (Waiwera, Otago) to his father Archibald McSparron (Umrycam, Londonderry) (Sp 4) 26 May 1869, Oliver McSparron (Tuakepa, Otago) to his father Archibald McSparron (Umrycam, Londonderry) (Sp 5) c. 1870s, Oliver McSparron (Maheno, Otago) to his father Archibald McSparron (Umrycam, Londonderry) (Sp 6) 16 May 1880, Oliver McSparron (Oamaru, Otago) to his father Archibald McSparron (Umrycam, Londonderry) (Sp 7) 1 Aug. 1882, Oliver McSparron (Maheno, Otago) to his father Archibald McSparron (Umrycam, Londonderry)

Monan sequence, 1889 (1) (Mo 1) 30 May 1889, Patrick and Elizabeth Monan (Ballyquintin, Down) to their daughter Margaret Dodd (Thames)

O’Neill sequence, 1863 (1) (Ne 1) 30 Nov. 1863, James O’Neill (Auckland) to his brother Thomas O’Neill (Limerick)

O’Regan sequence, 1899 (1) (Rn 1) 26 Jan. 1899, John O’Regan (Barrytown, West Coast) to his grandniece Ellen O’Regan (America) Piezzi sequence, 1878–c.1881 (7) (Pi 1) 12 Aug. 1878, Ellen Piezzi (Waimea, West Coast) to her sister-in-law (California) (Pi 2) 3 June 1879, Ellen Piezzi (Waimea, West Coast) to her brother-in-law Victer Piezzi (California) (Pi 3) 6 June 1879, Ellen Piezzi (Waimea, West Coast) to her sister-in-law (California) (Pi 4) 24 Oct. 1879, Ellen Piezzi (Waimea, West Coast) to her brother-in-law Victer Piezzi (California) (Pi 5) undated, Ellen Piezzi (Waimea, West Coast) to her brother-in-law Victer Piezzi (California) 278

APPENDIX

(Pi 6) 8 Oct. 1881, Ellen Piezzi (Waimea, West Coast) to her brother-in-law Victer Piezzi (California) (Pi 7) undated, Ellen Piezzi (Waimea, West Coast) to her brother-in-law Victer Piezzi (California) Quinn sequence, 1903–1907 (5) (Qu 1) 9 Oct. 1903, Patrick Quinn (Northern Wairoa) to his brother John Quinn (Belfast) (Qu 2) 13 Aug. 1905, William Quinn (Auckland) to his brother John Quinn (Belfast) (Qu 3) 29 Jan. 1906, Patrick Quinn (Northern Wairoa) to his brother John Quinn (Belfast) (Qu 4) 23 March 1906, William Quinn (Auckland) to his nephew Bernard Quinn (Belfast) (Qu 5) 29 June 1907, William Quinn (Auckland) to his brother John Quinn (Belfast) Rea sequence, 1905 (1) (Re 1) 6 Nov. 1905, Hugh Rea (Clinton, Otago) to his brother William Rea (Scrib, Down) Shanahan sequence, 1892–1893 (3) (Sh 1) 16 June 1892, Mary Shanahan (Kilflyn, Kerry) to her niece Winifred McClennan (Auckland) (Sh 2) 21 Sept. 1892, Mary Shanahan (Kilflyn, Kerry) to her niece Winifred McClennan (Auckland) (Sh 3) 28 Jan. 1893, Mary Shanahan (Kilflyn, Kerry) to her niece Winifred McClennan (Auckland) Strong sequence, 1883–1905 (7) (St 1) 25 Oct. 1883, John Strong (Lehinch, Tipperary) to his cousin Daniel Strong (Dublin) (St 2) 23 Nov. 1883, John Strong (Lehinch, Tipperary) to his cousin Daniel Strong (Dublin) (St 3) 14 Sept. 1895, Martin Strong (Lehinch, Tipperary) to his cousin Daniel Strong (Howick, Auckland) (St 4) 12 Dec. 1898, Lizzie Strong (Lehinch, Tipperary) to her cousin Daniel Strong (Howick, Auckland) 279

APPENDIX

(St 5) 24 May 1900, Martin Strong (Lehinch, Tipperary) to his cousin Daniel Strong (Howick, Auckland) (St 6) 26 Aug. 1905, John Strong (Lehinch, Tipperary) to his cousin Daniel Strong (Howick, Auckland) (St 7) 9 Sept. 1905, John Strong (Lehinch, Tipperary) to his cousin Daniel Strong (Howick, Auckland) Sullivan sequence, 1905 (1) (Su 1) 7 Mar. 1905, Catherine Sullivan (Foxton, Manawatu) to her brotherin-law Tom Sullivan (Ballingarry, Limerick) Treanor sequence, 1876 (2) (Tr 1) 11 Sept. 1876, Patrick Treanor (Wanganui) to his cousin Patrick Treanor (Thames) (Tr 2) 21 Sept. 1876, Patrick Treanor (Wanganui) to his cousin Patrick Treanor (Thames)

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299

Personal name index

This index has been compiled to facilitate genealogical interest. The list of names is confined to correspondents, their close connexions, and people (excluding public figures) mentioned in the letters. For reference to high-profile individuals see the entries under ‘public figures’ in the thematic index. Adams, David, 175 Adams, William, 175 Alexander, William James, 39, 145, 164, 175 Anderson, James, 176 Armstrong, Catherine (née Lloyd), 11, 88 Armstrong, Emma Sarah (née Mace), 12 Armstrong, John Henry, 11–13, 53, 74, 76, 84, 88, 92, 130, 139, 141, 157, 182, 194, 198, 200, 203, 219, 223–6, 233, 246 Armstrong, Revd John, 11, 53 Armstrong, Marian, 11, 13, 74, 88, 200, 203 Atkinson,Thomas, 160 Augustine, Mother, 251 Auld, Maggie, 75, 89, 148 Ayson, Elizabeth (née Ferguson), 13, 72, 86, 91, 256 Ayson, Robert McIntosh, 13 Bartley, Ellen (née Lysaght), 34, 174 Bassett, Samuel, 15 Bassett, Thomas, 15 Behan, Dr, 253 Bell, David, 13–14, 124, 152, 154, 156, 159–60, 171, 195, 213 Bell, Elizabeth (née Gawn), 13 Bell, John, 13 Bell, John (Junior), 14 Bell, Robert, 156 Bell, William, 156 Bennett, Mick, 219 Birch, Mrs, 175 Black, Mrs, 254 Burke, Bridget, 111

Burke, Eliza (née Dempsey), 18, 94, 120, 200, 248 Burns, A., 91 Burrell, Mrs, 157 Byrn, Mary, 75 Campbell, Revd, 243 Cardwell, David, 76 Cardwell, Jane (née Patterson), 15, 203 Cardwell, John, 15, 76, 104, 117, 186, 188 Cardwell, Samuel, 15, 203 Cardwell, Samuel (Junior), 76 Cardwell, William, 15, 76, 94, 104, 117, 139, 152, 154, 186–8, 203, 226 Carroll, Annie, 15, 78, 94, 200, 205–6, 208 Carroll, [Bridget] Nina (née Ryan), 16–17, 179–80, 183, 229 Carroll, Eileen, 183 Carroll, Jack, 231 Carroll, Maureen, 17, 257 Carroll, Nance, 92, 151, 203, 205–6, 229, 259 Carroll, Philip Joseph, 15–17, 72, 78, 82, 85, 89–90, 92, 94–5, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 112–14, 117, 124, 125, 126, 128, 131, 133, 135, 136–7, 140, 143, 151, 155, 164, 179–80, 183, 193, 194, 195, 198, 200, 203–4, 205–6, 208, 215–16, 225, 227, 228, 229, 230, 246, 248, 251, 257, 259 Carroll, Philip (Junior), 183 Carroll, Thomas, 15–16 Carson, Dr, 236 Clarke, Percy, 219 Clinton, Tom, 194 Coghlan, Cecilia (née Barrett), 29, 228 301

PERSONAL NAME INDEX Coghlan, Ellen (née McHale), 19 Coghlan, Ellen Anne (see Edwards) Coghlan, Patrick, 19 Colgan, Catherine, 21, 23, 88, 91, 93, 95, 137, 140, 141, 150, 155, 170, 171, 175, 182, 187, 195, 230, 242, 246, 248, 254, 260 Colgan, Charles, 21, 158 Colgan, Fr George, 251 Connell, Bridget, 72 Cooper, W., 175 Crawford, Adair, 53 Cruickshank, Revd George, 233 Cullen, William, 172 Cunnane, Catherine, 160–1, 163, 213 Cunningham, James, 161 Dagg, Mrs, 200, 204 Dawson, Brigid, 17, 73–4, 104–5, 108, 113, 117, 133, 137, 138, 139, 152, 157, 178, 228, 242, 249, 250–1 Dawson, Peter Francis, 17, 74, 104–5, 152, 157, 178, 250 Dempsey, Annie, 17–18, 75, 82, 86, 87, 88, 93, 94, 120, 131, 132, 133, 138, 150, 159, 161, 179, 182, 185, 196, 198, 200–1, 204, 247–8, 249, 253, 258 Dempsey, Eliza (see Burke) Dempsey, James, 17 Dempsey, Margaret (née Kelly), 17, 247–8 Dempsey, Michael, 17, 107, 112, 114, 115, 116, 118 Dempsey, P. S., 167 Dettey, Samuel, 82 Devaney, John, 135 Dodd, George, 18 Dodd, Margaret, 18, 255 Donworth, Dick, 208 Doyle, Kate, 207 Ducie, Willie, 53 Duffy, Mike, 208 Duffy, Rob, 208 Dwyer, Cornelius, 18–19, 94, 178 Dwyer, Hanora, 18, 94, 163, 194 Dwyer, Mary (née Cooney), 18–19, 149–50, 178 Edwards, Ellen Anne (née Coghlan), 19, 228 Edwards, Henry John Carruthers, 19 Eleart, Mr, 244 Enwright, Fr., 250 Erskine, William, 89, 170

Farrell, Hannah, 19 Farrell, Jack, 19, 102 Farrell, Jim, 19 Farrell, Margaret (née Nevill), 19 Farrell, Margaret, 19 Farrell, Matt, 19, 130, 155, 202 Farrell, May (see Sullivan) Farrell, Michael, 19, 54, 74, 76, 102, 187, 228, 232, 258 Farrell, Patrick, 19–20, 74, 102, 130, 134, 187, 202, 228 Fenton, Alice (see Gilmore) Fenton, James, 177 Ferguson, Agnes (née Atkinson), 13 Ferguson, Elizabeth (see Ayson) Ferguson, Hessie Jane, 13, 86 Ferguson, Hugh, 13, 256 Ferguson, James Francis, 73 Ferguson, John, 13, 256 Fisher, James, 38 Fisher, Moore, 201 Flanagan, Anne (née Maguire), 20, 166 Flanagan, Bridget, 167 Flanagan, John, 20, 166, 167 Flanagan, Michael, 20–1, 85, 87, 89, 91, 102, 142, 166–8, 174, 183–4, 194, 206, 207, 211, 222, 229, 256 Flanagan, Nicholas, 21, 167 Flanagan, Patrick, 20–1, 166 Flanagan, Patrick (Junior), 20–1, 89, 102, 142, 166–8, 174, 207, 211, 222 Flanagan, Richard, 85, 88, 89, 125, 167, 206, 211, 229, 259 Flanagan, Fr. Richard, 85, 125, 207–8 Fogarty, Dave, 76 Fraim, Jane, 54 Frew, Mr, 124, 195 Furlong, Ellen (née Behan), 36 Furlong, Martin, 36 Furlong, Winifred (see McClennan) Gamble, Charles, 22–3, 170, 230 Gamble, Maggie, 182 Gamble, Rose (née McMullan), 21–3, 95, 150, 158, 170, 171, 175, 195 Gebby, William, 174, 175 Gilmer, Abigail, 51, 148, 171–2, 207 Gilmer, Anne (née Smith), 23 Gilmer, Hamilton, 23, 186, 193, 226 Gilmer, Henry, 23, 172 Gilmer, Hugh, 23, 51 Gilmer, James, 51 Gilmer, John, 186 302

PERSONAL NAME INDEX Gilmer, Margaret Dorothy [Dolly] Gilmer (née Hamilton), 23 Gilmer, Mary Isabella (née Martin), 23 Gilmer, Robert, 24, 50, 51 Gilmer, Robert (cousin), 51, 207 Gilmer, Samuel, 23–5, 50, 51, 94, 139, 148, 171–2, 186 Gilmer, Thomas, 23 Gilmer, William, 23–4, 50–1, 88, 94, 125, 142–3, 151, 158, 172, 197, 203, 207, 208 Gilmore, Alice, 25–7, 97, 98, 99, 106–7, 109–11, 113, 117, 124, 137, 159, 171, 177, 225, 232 Gilmore, Andrew, 25–6, 67, 74, 75, 84, 88, 94, 97, 101, 137, 138, 139, 148, 161, 171, 177, 184, 207, 226 Gilmore, Annie (née Prebble), 25 Gilmore, John, 25–7, 66–7, 79, 89, 94, 97, 98, 99, 109, 116, 117, 127, 128, 132, 137, 153–4, 158, 161, 171, 177, 182, 184, 205, 226–7, 232, 233, 244 Gilmore, Letitia (née Bailie), 25 Gilmore, Letitia (née Emerson), 25 Gilmore, Lizzie, 182 Gilmore, Mary, 182 Gilmore, Robert, 25, 205 Gilmore, Robert (Junior), 25, 74, 75, 84, 148, 184, 205 Gilpin, Mary Ann, 13, 72, 86, 88, 91, 141, 254 Gleeson, Annie (see Carroll) Gleeson, John S., 16 Gracey, Elizabeth (see McCance) Gracey, Robert, 46 Greene, Peter, 167 Hamilton, Dorothea, 51 Hamilton, John, 23, 50 Hamilton, Sarah, 51 Hanly, Denis, 202 Harrison, William, 37 Hartnett, Kate, 207 Harty, Bridget (see Keane) Harty, Michael, 29, 177 Haughey, Thomas, 95 Heldt, Ann (see McCleland) Heldt, Johan Augustus, 35–6, 64, 105, 116, 193 Hendry, Jim, 230 Heron, Nathaniel, 174 Hewett, J., 175 Hickey, Fr. Patrick, 249 Hickson, Fr. James 250–1

Hobson, William, 84, 152, 174 Hodge, Mrs, 175 Holdich, Capt., 97, 98 Holt, Jim, 230 Houlihan, Tom, 54 Hughes, Amelia, 254 Hughes, Dorothy Adeline (née Daniel), 29, 183 Hughes, George, 82 Hughes, Harriette (see O’Connell) Hughes, Mary Jane (née Pakenham), 27, 96, 150, 154, 163, 183, 245–6, 259 Hughes, Robert, 27–9, 88, 90, 91, 93, 95–6, 125, 126, 128, 131, 132, 134, 135, 137, 140, 141, 155, 163, 194, 201–2, 204, 208, 216–17, 218, 222, 233, 245–6, 251–2, 259, 260 Hughes, Thomas William, 27, 29, 82, 90, 95, 126, 133, 135, 137, 155, 183, 194, 201–2, 216–17, 233, 251, 254, 260 Jenkins, Alexander, 46 Jenkins, John, 32 Jenkins, Lizzie (née Quinn), 46, 94, 157 Jenkins, Robert, 46, 157, 187, 230 Jenkins, Susan (née Johnson), 32 Johnson, Bunting, 32 Johnson, Sarah, 32 Keane, Bridget, 29–30, 81, 177 Keane, James, 29–30, 71, 206, 248, 254, 255, 259 Keane, James (Junior), 71, 206, 232 Keane, James (uncle), 206–7 Keane, Johanna (née Curreen), 29, 82, 198, 255 Keane, John, 29, 71, 72, 81, 82, 123, 198, 206, 207, 231–2 Keane, Joseph, 29 Keane, Kate, 29, 71, 72, 77, 81, 90, 91, 126, 139–40, 154, 177, 198, 206–7, 214–15, 218, 220, 228, 241, 243, 248, 253–4, 255, 259 Keane, Mary Anne, 29–30, 71, 81–2, 91, 154, 206, 214, 220, 228, 231–2, 241, 248, 254 Keane, Mary Anne (née Bayley), 29 Keane, Matthew, 29, 71 Keane, Maurice, 232, 259 Kehoe, Fr. Paul Francis, 187 Kennedy, Ellen, 200 Kilpatrick, David, 31–2, 71, 86, 136, 152, 156, 164, 236–7, 254 Kilpatrick, Elizabeth Lyons, 32, 237 303

PERSONAL NAME INDEX Kilpatrick, Margaret Anne (née Reid), 30–2, 54, 70, 71, 72, 73, 76, 83, 85, 86, 89, 92, 108, 124, 128, 130, 134, 135, 136, 150, 151–2, 156, 162, 164, 170, 175, 178, 182, 198, 200, 203, 207, 220, 223, 228–9, 232, 233, 236–7, 243, 254, 259, 260 Kilpatrick, Mary, 32, 182 Kilpatrick, Mary, 130, 237 Kilpatrick, Robert Ebenezer Reid, 32, 130, 237 Kilpatrick, William, 31–2, 71, 130 Kirk, Bridget, 167, 172, 256 Kirk, Pat, 89, 167, 172–3, 208, 229, 256 Kirk, Peter, 208 Lambert, Agnes Evelyn (née McNeice), 32–3, 72–3, 76, 82, 93, 124, 142, 148, 150, 164, 195–6, 258, 260 Lambert, Michael Augustus, 32, 148 Lang, Sophy, 54, 92, 150, 200, 203 Lanigan, Theresa, 186, 205 Ledgerwood, W., 175 Little, William, 118 Lloyd, Major John Yeadon, 11 Logan, Thomas, 174 Logan, William, 38 Lysaght, Catherine, 34, 95 Lysaght, Edmund, 33–4, 64, 74, 93, 102, 141, 158, 161, 162, 190–1, 199, 204–5, 211 Lysaght, Edward, 33–4, 64, 74, 93, 95, 102, 108, 110, 158, 161, 162, 172, 174, 180, 183, 190, 193, 199, 203, 204–5, 211, 249, 253 Lysaght, Ellen (see Bartley) Lysaght, Maria (née Callaghan), 34, 180, 182 Lysaght, Mary (née Crowe), 34 Lysaght, Mary (née Hayes), 33–4, 253, 254 Lysaght, Mary Anne, 34, 182 Lysaght, Michael, 33 Lysaght, Patrick, 34, 95, 172, 174, 203 Lysaght, William, 34, 53, 64, 74, 88, 95, 140, 158, 160, 161, 162, 172, 190–1, 199, 211, 219, 223, 242, 249, 253, 254–5 Lysaght, William (Junior), 242 Mackey, Revd, 237 Macready, Bessie, 1, 3, 35, 69–70, 87, 106–7, 110, 115, 117, 126, 136,

137–8, 139, 141, 142, 149, 158, 159, 160, 164, 171, 187, 243, 258 Macready, Charles, 35 Macready, Hugh, 35 Macready, Jane (née McMain), 35 MacSwiney, Mary, 217 Magill, Maggie, 201 Magill, Robert, 201 Maher, Denis, 44, 149 Maher, Ellen (see Piezzi) Mahony, Fr., 157 Main, William, 35, 87 Martin, William, 39 Matthews, Robert, 192 McCance, Elizabeth (née Rea), 46–7, 187 McCance, William (Senior), 47 McCance, William, 47 McCarty, Florence, 44 McCaughan, Catherine (see Colgan) McCaughan, Hector, 170, 187 McCaughan, John, 170 McCaw, Mr, 252 McCleland, Ann, 35–6, 64, 75, 77–8, 82, 83, 84, 105, 123, 193, 203, 243–4, 246, 248 McCleland, Elizabeth, 35, 75, 77, 82, 83, 84, 123, 203, 243–4, 246, 248, 260 McCleland, Eliza Jane, 77 McCleland, Jane, 77 McCleland, John, 35 McCleland, Mary, 77 McCleland, Nancy, 75 McCleland, Sarah, 77 McClennan, James, 36–7 McClennan, Winifred (née Furlong), 36–7, 91, 150 McCloskey, Denis, 118 McClure, D., 175 McClure, Emily (née Humphreys), 37, 103, 106 McClure, George, 37 McClure, [Alexander] Gordon, 37, 79, 103, 126–7, 129, 132, 157, 162, 178, 223 McClure, James Moreland, 37, 85, 103, 106, 138, 157, 161, 162, 178, 226, 242 McClure, Prudence (née Harrison), 37 McClure, William George, 37, 178 McCullough, David, 38, 64, 77, 79, 84, 85, 94, 105, 106, 107, 108, 110, 112, 113, 114, 116–17, 124, 128, 129, 131, 136, 142, 152, 153, 164, 174, 195, 197–8, 201, 204, 225, 252

304

PERSONAL NAME INDEX McCullough, Isabella, 201 McCullough, Lizzie, 94 McCullough, Margaret (née Connery), 38, 195 McCullough, Samuel, 38, 77, 195 McGoogan, William, 174 McGrath, Fr. Marcus, 250 McIlrath, Agnes (née Matthews), 40, 133, 176, 257 McIlrath, David, 38 McIlrath, Eliza Jane (née Atkinson), 40, 176, 214 McIlrath, Emily, 40, 134 McIlrath, Hamilton, 39–40, 71, 85, 86, 87, 89, 90–1, 92, 93, 102–3, 109, 123, 129, 130, 133, 134, 141–2, 145–6, 151, 157, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 171, 174, 175, 176, 193, 201, 202, 203, 212, 213–14, 222, 226, 244, 245, 252, 259 McIlrath, James Logan, 38–40, 71, 75, 76, 84, 85, 87, 89, 90, 91, 93, 94, 102–3, 108, 109, 111–12, 114, 116, 117–18, 123, 124, 125, 126, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 137, 141–2, 145, 147–8, 151, 155, 157, 158–9, 160, 161–2, 163, 164, 171, 172, 173, 175, 176, 192–3, 194–5, 198, 203, 212, 219, 222, 225, 244, 245, 252, 256–7, 258, 260, 265 McIlrath, Jane (née Logan), 38, 87, 90, 91, 94, 176, 203, 222, 256 McIlrath, Jennie, 134, 213–14 McIlrath, John, 38–9, 87, 90, 94, 123, 197, 203, 256 McIlrath, John (Junior), 71, 87, 92, 201, 212 McIlrath, Robert, 71, 201 McIlrath, Robert (cousin), 172, 175 McIlrath, Tilly (see Smith) McIlrath, William, 71, 201 McKelvey, Alexander Neil, 40–2, 92–3, 105, 107, 125, 133, 137, 138, 154, 157, 177, 182–3, 184–5, 227–8, 241 McKelvey, Margaret Patterson (née Hanna), 40 McKelvey, Muriel, 183 McKelvey, Muriel Grace (née Mills), 42, 183 McKelvey, Robert, 40–2, 105, 184 McMain, Elizabeth, 1, 35, 69, 117, 171 McMain, Sarah, 1, 35, 69, 117, 171 McMullan, Catherine (see Colgan) McMullan, Catherine, 22, 170, 171

McMullan, Hector, 88 McMullan, James, 21 McMullan, James (Junior), 22, 170 McMullan, Johnny, 23, 95, 171, 195, 230, 248 McMullan, Rose (see Gamble) McMullan, Zachariah, 21 McMullan, Zachariah (Junior), 21–2, 170 McNeice, Agnes (see Lambert) McNeice, Isabella, 33, 73, 150 McNeice, John, 32 McReynolds, Matthew, 47 McSparron, Archibald, 42–3, 205 McSparron, Oliver, 42–3, 76, 85–6, 87, 90, 104, 106, 114, 118, 124, 153, 156, 160, 174, 197, 198, 205, 222–3 Meehan, Fr., 251 Mercer, Capt., 221 Mills, William, 177 Mollett, Thomas, 149 Molloy, Martin, 86 Monan, Isabella, 18, 255 Monan, Margaret (see Dodd) Monan, Patrick, 18, 86, 255 Monan, Sarah (née Quinn), 18, 86, 255 Mooney, Pat, 166 Moore, Bishop, 112 Moorhead, D., 175 Moorhead, M., 175 Moran, Maggie, 72, 89, 130, 151, 197, 201, 202–3, 208, 214, 219, 249, 251, 259 Moreland, Mary, 178 Morrison, Mr, 245 Morrow, David, 15 Muir, John, 18 Murphy, Lieut., 221 Neil, Edwin, 17 Newill, Catherine, 46 O’Brien, Ann, 120 O’Brien, Annie (see Dempsey) O’Brien, Francis, 17, 185, 253, 258 O’Brien, Francis (Junior), 182 O’Brien, Johnny, 194 O’Brien, Mary Ann, 182 O’Brien, Miss, 131 O’Brien, Nicholas, 185 O’Connell, Harriette (née Hughes), 29, 82, 134, 154 O’Connell, Michael, 154, 155, 201–2 O’Donnell, Fr. Henry, 250 Oliver, William, 42, 85–6, 118, 222–3

305

PERSONAL NAME INDEX O’Neill, Bridget (née Kennedy), 43 O’Neill, Bridget (née Ryan), 43, 185–6 O’Neill, James, 43, 75, 92, 136, 142, 152, 155–6, 158, 164, 178, 185–6, 205, 220–1, 230, 231, 254, 256 O’Neill, James (Junior), 186 O’Neill, James (Senior), 43, 205 O’Neill, Patrick, 75, 205, 230 O’Neill, Theresa, 205 O’Neill, Theresa (see Lanigan) O’Neill Thomas, 43, 92, 205, 221 O’Regan, Ellen, 44, 199, 248 O’Regan, Florence, 44 O’Regan, Johanna (née Harrington), 44 O’Regan, John, 44, 93, 127, 130, 139, 199, 225, 228, 248 Osborne, David, 174

Reaney, Nancy, 54 Reed, Mrs, 174 Reid, George, 82, 125, 131, 175, 219, 232, 260 Reid, Joseph, 76, 151, 200, 212, 236–7 Reid, Margaret Anne (see Kilpatrick) Reid, Martha Jane, 71, 73, 237 Reid, Mary Anne (née Waddell), 30, 54, 77, 89, 108, 135, 203, 236, 237, 260 Reid, Robert, 30–1, 236 Reid, Sarah, 135–6, 150, 151, 207, 220 Reid, Thomas, 71, 86, 89, 151, 237 Riordan, Catherine (see Sullivan) Riordan, Mary (née Brown), 48 Riordan, Patrick, 48 Robinson, Mr, 117 Ross, William, 54

Pakenham, Maria, 28–9 Pakenham, Thomas, 28–9 Patrick, Sister M., 94, 247, 248, 251 Piezzi, Ellen (née Walsh), 44, 91, 149, 153, 178–9, 182, 186, 242, 257–8 Piezzi, Helvetia, 242 Piezzi, Julius, 44, 179, 242, 258 Piezzi, Victer, 44, 179 Powell, Dr, 164 Power, Jim, 219 Prendergast, Mag, 180

Samuels, Miss, 203 Shanahan, Debbie, 150 Shanahan, Mary, 36, 91, 150, 253, 255 Sheath, Mr, 229 Sheehan, Mary, 185 Sheridan, Richard, 167 Skilling, John, 174 Skilling, Mary Ann, 174 Slattery, Mary, 201, 249 Smee, Josie, 180 Smith, Tilly, 214 Smyth, John, 173 Spelman, Jeremiah, 162 Spelman, Margaret (née Sullivan), 48, 176 Spelman, Michael, 48 Street, Miss, 167 Strong, Daniel, 47–8, 53, 71, 72, 76, 77, 79, 88, 89, 92, 93, 142, 155, 162, 193, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 206, 210, 231, 241, 244, 247, 253, 255, 259 Strong, Denis, 47 Strong, Denis (Junior), 199 Strong, John, 47, 72, 77, 79, 88, 89, 92, 142, 155, 193, 197, 198, 200, 203, 208, 210, 230, 231, 232, 241, 244, 246, 247, 255, 259 Strong, Lizzie, 47, 71, 77, 93, 199, 201, 253 Strong, Margaret, 206, 231 Strong, Martin, 47, 53, 71, 93, 155, 197, 199, 206, 213, 231, 254 Strong, Mary (née Mulkere), 48 Strong, Mary (née Ryan), 47 Strong, Patrick, 199 Strong, William, 47

Qualtrough, James, 116 Quinn, Ann (née Grant), 17 Quinn, Bernard, 17 Quinn, Bernard, 44–5 Quinn, Bernard (Junior), 155, 229 Quinn, Brigid (see Dawson) Quinn, Eliza (née Cunningham), 45, 260 Quinn, Ellen, 17 Quinn, John, 45–6, 94, 171, 187, 260 Quinn, Lizzie (see Jenkins) Quinn, Patrick, 45–6, 93, 134, 139, 156–7, 171, 174, 230, 250, 260 Quinn, William Cunningham, 44–6, 94, 142, 155, 157, 171, 174, 187, 229–30, 231, 256 Rea, Catherine (née Newell), 46 Rea, Elizabeth (see McCance) Rea, Hugh, 46 Rea, Hugh (Junior), 46–7, 130, 136, 153, 156, 162, 174, 187 Rea, William, 46 Rea, William (Junior), 46–7, 153, 187 Reaney, Lucy, 54

306

PERSONAL NAME INDEX Sullivan, Annie, 176–7 Sullivan, Bridget, 150, 176 Sullivan, Catherine (née Riordan), 48, 66, 86, 116, 124, 150, 156, 159, 160, 176, 177, 178, 185, 250 Sullivan, Cornelius, 48, 178, 185 Sullivan, Cornelius (Junior), 185 Sullivan, John, 48, 254 Sullivan, Kate, 176 Sullivan, Margaret (see Spelman) Sullivan, Mary (née Lynch), 48 Sullivan, Mary, 66 Sullivan, May, 19, 89, 94, 130, 134, 151, 197, 208, 214, 219, 246–7, 248, 251, 259 Sullivan, Nellie, 150 Sullivan, Tom, 159, 176, 250 Treanor, Ellen (née McKenna), 48 Treanor, James, 48–9 Treanor, Owen, 48 Treanor, Patrick, 49 Treanor, Patrick Owen, 48–9, 87, 156, 175

Vance, Mr, 105 Vaughan, Fr. 251 Waddell, Mary Anne, 30, 54, 77, 108, 203, 237, 260 Walker, Charlotte, 243 Walker, Elizabeth, 54, 72, 83, 140, 142, 243 Wallace, Mr, 237 Walsh, Ellen (see Piezzi) Walsh, Ernie, 91, 220, 228 Walsh, Margaret (née Hennessy), 44 Walsh, Mary Anne (see Keane) Walsh, Patrick, 186 Walsh, Phillip, 186 Walsh, Thomas, 44 Walsh, Walter Lovells Victor, 29 Ward, Mr, 84 Webster, Noah, 228 Wilson, Mr, 185 Young, Alexander, 38, 64, 105, 142 Ziele, Dolly, 186

307

Place name index

The place names contained in this index are restricted to localities and countries appearing in the correspondence. Achill, 128 Antrim, 177 Armagh, 112, 151, 187, 229, 243, 258 Auckland, 93, 109, 221, 223, 226, 229 Austria, 219 Balleer, 135, 151 Ballinderry, 54 Ballingarry, 250 Ballyards, 86 Ballycahill, 143, 180 Ballyconnell, 247 Ballyhalbert, 128 Baltinglass, 200 Belfast, 66–7, 98, 128, 151, 177 Birr, 249, 251 Blackwater, 214 Borrisokane, 197, 203, 219, 251 Canterbury, 162 Cape of Good Hope, 114 Carrigaholt, 251 Castle Fogarty, 216 China, 219 Christchurch, 84, 174 Clarina, 221 Clarkesbridge, 200 Clashmore, 232, 255 Cobh, 216 Comber, 176 Connacht, 199 Cork, 106, 215, 216 Cottown, 112 Crecrin, 120 Derry, 93, 112, 128, 250 Doon, 249, 253 Down, 174 Dromore West, 135

Drumreagh, 175 Dublin, 88, 90, 128, 151, 155, 200, 214, 215, 255 Dundalk, 200, 250 Dunedin, 226 Dungarvan, 255 Easkey, 135 France, 220 Glasnevin, 255 Gortin, 93 Governors Bay, 117 Greymouth, 51 Hobart, 220 Hokitika, 85 Invercargill, 226 Italy, 219 Kilbarron, 203 Kilfeighney, 255 Killanure, 120, 249 Killelan, 200 Killinchy, Ire., 174, 175, 245 Kiltoom, 198, 203 Knockbally, 75 Larne, 101 Limerick, 75, 176, 221, 230 Liverpool, 77, 101, 103, 117 London, 113, 117, 163, 229 Lorrha Abbey, 247, 255 Lurgan, 232 Lyttelton, 149 308

PLACE NAME INDEX Mackley country, 128 Manatobia, 54 Manchester, 53 Mayo, 128, 248 Melbourne, 109, 117, 118 Monaghan, 175 Moneyreagh, 204, 252 Motuihe Island, 127 Mount Eden, 128 Mullaghanee, 151 Mungret, 155 Nenagh, 143, 208, 251 New Orleans, 194 Newry, 250 New South Wales, 50, 177 Newtownards, 256 Newtownhamilton, 200 North Shore, 142 Otago, 220, 223, 226 Pallasbeg, 158 Pilltown, 214 Portumna, 244 Queensland, 54, 222 Randalstown, 177

Red Sea, 116 Reefton, 85 Rome, 251 Roscrea, 201 Scotland, 194, 222 Seagoe, 256 Shannon, 128 Skreen, 208 South Africa, 219 Southampton, 117 Southland, 226 South Pacific Ocean, 126 Spike Island, 216 Sydney, 177, 220 Taranaki, 142 Terryglass, 251 Thames, 175 Tipperary, 211, 232 Tobercurry, 208 Totara Flat, 194 Waikato, 220 Waimate, 133, 247, 253 Waitakere Ranges, 143 Wanganui, 137, 152, 187, 225, 258 Waterford, 203 Wellington, 226

309

Thematic index

In order to facilitate comparative endeavours, this index predominantly follows the classification applied in David Fitzpatrick’s Oceans of Consolation. assistance and maintenance provision, 67, 75, 102 remittances from Ire., 95 remittances from N.Z., 94, 95 requests, 64, 71, 82 schemes, 66–7, 161 Australia connexions, 53, 54, 74 destination, 53, 54, 72, 76, 142 emigration to N.Z., 142, 177, 220 religion, 244 return to Ire. from, 74, 194 work, 153 burials and funerals Ire., 254–6 N.Z., 237, 253, 256 Cameron, Duncan Alexander (1808–1888), military leader, 225 Catholic Church, Ire. building, 249, 251, 253 observance, 94, 244, 246–7, 248, 249, 251 personnel, 249, 250, 251, 253 Catholic Church, N.Z. building, 120, 244, 249, 251 observance, 94, 221, 247–8, 249, 250, 251, 253 personnel, 221, 250–1, 253 Catholic views of Protestants, 110–11, 203, 241 children, 182–3, 233, 242–3, 254 climate Ire., 50, 126, 140, 143, 158 N.Z., 120, 141–2, 153, 159, 166 clothing and accessories Ire., 91, 94, 139–40 N.Z., 91, 93, 104, 133, 139, 140

communications Ire., 128, 133, 134, 153 N.Z., 128, 129, 132, 133 conversation, 131 correspondence anxiety, 83, 88, 89 apologies, 87, 88 charges, 83, 84 circulation, 88, 89, 90 composition, 81, 82, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89 as conversation, 82 excuses, 87, 88 forwarding, 88 hope, 81, 86 joy, 81, 83, 89 missing, 81, 84, 85 reading, 88, 89 reproaches, 81, 86, 87, 89, 207 silence, 81, 88, 259 transmission, 84, 85, 89 correspondence, Irish–American, 70, 76, 78, 100, 103, 113, 120–1, 143, 188, 192, 208, 258–9 correspondence, Irish–Australian, 69, 76, 95, 100, 121, 122–3, 126, 128, 134, 136, 141, 143, 158, 160, 162, 171, 172, 174, 177–8, 188, 198–9, 202, 204, 208–9, 213, 218–19, 220, 230, 231, 232, 233, 235, 238, 249, 250, 257, 259 Cosgrave, William Thomas (1880–1965), politician, 217 courtship, 180, 202 curiosity, about N.Z., 123 deaths Ire., 94, 208, 214, 231, 247, 248, 253–5, 256–7, 259 310

THEMATIC INDEX N.Z., 172, 182, 187, 208, 221, 237, 247, 253–4, 257–8 de Valera, Eamon (1882–1975), politician, 217 dreams, 70, 73, 260 drink, 75, 201, 206, 210, 230–2, 233, 254

gardens Ire., 135, 140, 150 N.Z., 134, 135, 137 genealogy, 176–8, 190, 200, 201, 231, 255 gifts from Ire., 84, 93–4 from N.Z., 93–4

economic conditions Ire., 154 N.Z., 76, 160, 163 education Ire., 151, 243 N.Z., 132, 133, 242–3, 249 elections Ire., 211, 217 N.Z., 92, 226 emigration to N.Z. advice, 51, 76 demand, 75 desired, 75, 197 despair, 77–8 discouragement, 74, 76 encouragement, 51, 74, 75, 143, 147–8 pull factors, 71–2 push factors, 71–3, 142 reception, 75, 76 reluctance, 74 England connexions, 53, 72, 229 country, 84, 214, 219, 222 destination, 220 education, 243 marriage, 103, 178 wages, 155 work, 72, 151, 154 exile, 199

health and illness Ire., 50, 51, 72, 82, 88, 92, 94, 95–6, 142, 143, 155, 200, 254, 256 N.Z., 142, 171, 197 ‘home’ in heaven, 253, 256, 260 ‘home’ in Ire. characteristics, economic, 71, 75, 76, 104, 124, 145–6, 154, 164, 195, 199 characteristics, physical, 120, 139, 140, 145, 159, 195, 213 characteristics, society, 151, 154, 159, 185, 192, 198, 228, 232, 244 country, 87 dwelling, 135, 198, 246, 255 emotional associations, 86, 131, 198, 232, 258 neighbourhood, 167, 175 place, 170, 198, 246 return to, 74, 85, 94, 124, 190, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 219, 229, 255 ‘home’ in N.Z. dwelling, 75 return to, 196, 198 household costs Ire., 135–6 N.Z., 136–7, 138, 161 housing Ire., 131, 135–6, 140 N.Z., 120, 129, 136–9, 161

family, Ire. circumstances, 74, 77, 95 conflict, 73, 190, 204–7 harmony, 203 family, N.Z. conflict, 171–2 harmony, 171 Famine, Great, 163 farming Ire., 50, 140–1, 150, 158, 163, 164, 195 N.Z., 120, 141, 145, 150, 158–60 food Ire., 163–4 N.Z., 124, 132, 164

idleness, 154 impressions, Ire. negative 125–6, 208, 214, 216 positive, 71 impressions, N.Z. negative, 124, 195, 213, 243 positive, 69, 70, 123, 124, 127, 160 independence, 72 inheritance, 177, 185–7, 190 insurance, 139, 194 Ireland and ‘Irish’ climate, 50, 126, 143 economy, 136, 158 emigration, 50, 78, 92, 111, 125, 143, 216, 219, 241, 250 geography, 50, 128, 161, 198, 222 311

THEMATIC INDEX nation, 215 ‘Old’ Ireland, 125, 198, 199, 211, 217 place, 81, 250 race, 146, 176, 210, 214, 216, 223, 228, 229, 233 region of origin, 66, 110, 125, 212, 217, 232, 250 return to, 183, 193, 194, 196, 197, 198, 215, 250 society, 125, 136, 153, 154, 175, 200, 212, 213, 214, 216, 219, 229, 241 work, 50, 154 Irish abroad, see Australia; England; North America Knox, Uchter John Mark, 5th Earl of Ranfurly (1856–1933), governor of New Zealand, 177 land extent Ire., 160–1 N.Z., 66, 150, 159–60, 161, 213, 220 landlords, Ire., 125, 212, 213 land purchase and tenure Ire., 161, 162, 199, 212, 213, 231 N.Z., 66–7, 145, 160–2, 213, 220, 222 land transformation, N.Z., 129, 145 language, 228 Lloyd George, David (1863–1945), British statesman, 215 loneliness Ire., 88, 237, 259 N.Z., 237, 258 Mannix, Dr Daniel (1864–1963), Archbishop of Melbourne, 215 Maori, 127, 212, 220–1, 222, 223, 224 marriages Ire., 190, 194, 199–202, 207 N.Z., 103, 167, 176–80 see also England; North America Masonic Lodge, 184–5 Massey, William Ferguson (1856–1925), Prime Minister, 227 money Ire., 50, 94, 95, 103, 155, 190, 204–5, 208, 231 N.Z., 76, 124, 148, 149, 153, 156, 163, 164, 167, 198 naming patterns, 201, 205, 233 natural environment Ire., 82, 128

N.Z., 70, 93, 123, 126–7, 128, 129, 133, 159 neighbours, Ire. conflict, 207–8 contact, 174, 203–4, 229 harmony, 203–4 neighbours, Irish–N.Z. assistance from, 175 assistance to, 167 conflict, 172–3 contact, 167, 174, 175 harmony, 175 as intermediaries, 170, 174, 177 numerous, 167, 174, 175 newspapers exchanges, 92 from Ire., 86, 92, 217 from N.Z., 92, 93 New Zealand wars, 92, 152, 220–5 North America connexions, 54, 72, 220, 229, 232 destination, 54, 71, 72, 190, 194 marriage, 72 politics, 211, 217 return to Ire. from, 194 nostalgia, for Ire., 93, 131, 159, 198–9 O’Connell, Daniel (1775–1847), Repeal leader, 201 O’Donovan Rossa, Jeremiah (1831–1915), Fenian activist, 211 Orangemen, 215 Parnell, Charles Stewart (1846–1891), political leader, 212 photographs exchanges, 81, 90 from Ire., 90, 91 from N.Z., 90, 91, 183, 222, 251 resemblance, 81, 91 physique Ire., 79, 90–1, 92 N.Z., 81, 91, 178, 182 Plunket, Oliver (1625–1681), Saint, 251 politics, Ire., 210 Black and Tans, 215 civil war, 217 Easter Rising, 214 Fenians, 211, 212 Free Staters, 216 governments, 213, 217 Home Rule, 213, 214, 215 Land War, 125 312

THEMATIC INDEX Rories, 216 Sinn Fein, 215 War of Independence, 214 see also elections; North America, politics; public figures politics, N.Z., 227 government, 226 Irish, 211 see also elections; New Zealand wars; strikes postcards, from N.Z., 93 prices Ire., 163, 230 N.Z., 145–6, 157, 159, 162–3, 164 Protestant churches, Ire. beliefs, 237 observance, 131, 245–6, 248 personnel, 163, 251–2 Protestant churches, N.Z. beliefs, 245 disapproval, 244 lack of facilities, 243, 244 observance, 243–4, 246 personnel, 237, 243–4, 245, 252 Protestant views of Catholics, 204, 232 public figures, see Cameron, Duncan Alexander; Cosgrave, Thomas William; de Valera, Eamon; Lloyd George, David; Mannix, Daniel; Massey, William Ferguson; O’Connell, Daniel; O’Donovan Rossa, Jeremiah; Parnell, Charles Stewart; Plunket, Oliver; Ranfurly, Lord; Stewart, George Vesey racial and ethnic groups, 215, 216, 217, 220, 225, 228 see also Maori; voyage, racial and ethnic groups Ranfurly, Lord, see Knox recreation Ire., 130–4, 216 N.Z., 129–33, 139 return migration to Ire. actual, 190, 193, 194 analysis, 193, 195 expectation, 79, 103, 178, 192, 193, 195, 197 hope, 71, 79, 199 possibility, 79, 196, 198 reluctance, 193, 197 reports, 66, 74, 124, 192, 194, 195, 215 reports of possibility, 196, 215

reports of requests, 198 requests, 136, 190, 195, 197, 199 unlikely, 199 return to N.Z. from Ire., 183 reunions heaven, 257, 260 N.Z., 117, 126 St Patrick’s Day, 132–3 Stewart, George Vesey (c. 1832–1920), coloniser, 66–7, 184 strikes, 92, 227 Tammany Hall, 227 voyage accommodation, 99, 104, 107 activities, 103, 111–14 arrival and quarantine, 116–17, 127 births, 98, 116 climate, 113–14 conflict, 110 crew and ship details, 97, 101, 103, 107, 109–10, 111, 112, 113, 115, 116 disease, illness, and death, 98, 109, 116, 117, 233 length and speed, 69, 98, 106, 113–14, 116–17, 118 passengers, 99, 101, 104, 107, 108, 109, 110–12, 113, 116 preparations and provisions, 103, 104–5, 108, 112 racial and ethnic groups, 112, 114 religion, 110, 112 seasickness, 103, 106–7 segregation, 99, 109 storms and accidents, 106, 107, 110, 113–15, 117–18 wages Ire., 124, 136, 151, 155 N.Z., 75, 145, 148, 153, 155–7, 171 wars, 214, 215, 219–20, 228 work, Ire., 71, 74, 75, 95, 131, 140, 154, 219, 230 army officer, 155, 202 carpenter, 155 farm labourer, 155, 202 housekeeper, 150 marine engineer, 155 midwife, 151 millworker, 150 nurse, 151 313

THEMATIC INDEX painter, 155 police, 136, 155 priest, 155 publican, 155 railway, 72 sea trades, 200, 255 sewer, 150 shopkeeper, 151 teacher, 50, 151 see also farming, Ire.; wages, Ire. work, N.Z., 75, 76, 152, 154, 156, 160, 182, 237 accountant, 152 blacksmith, 152, 156 bookkeeper, 182 carrier, 148, 177 coachsmith, 156 domestic service, 147, 149 farm labourer, 145, 156, 159

gardener, 152 gumdigger, 157 hotelkeeper, 149 housekeeper, 148, 183 labourer, 153 laundry, 148 militia man, 152, 221 milker, 75, 145 miner, 55, 128, 153 nurseryman, 156 physician, 154 professional, 146 railway, 156 shopkeeper, 149, 177 smithing, 153–4 station hand, 145 tailor, 74 wheelwright, 152 see also farming, N.Z.; wages, N.Z.

314