Unmanageable Revolutionaries: Women and Irish Nationalism

By Margaret Ward

This book describes how Irish women have always played a key role in the struggle for independence. The author depicts the role women have played in the 'Irish struggle' from 1881 to the present day, particularly in the crucial post 1916 period, and in so doing underlines the irony whereby 'fellow' nationalists, despite their common struggle, remained factionalised. The author focuses on three pivotal Irish nationalist women's organisations – the Ladies Land League, Inghinidhe na hEireann and Cumann na mBan - and shows how, despite the inherent differences between the three movements, a salient theme emerges, namely the underwhelming extent to which Irish women have been recognised as a driving force in Irish political history.

Since Mary Robinson's election as president, however, a new agenda had been set in Irish politics. Irish women politicians are acquiring the profile they deserve - a trend most clearly marked by the 'feminisation' of Sinn Féin. As the Irish political climate changes almost daily, Margaret Ward's Unmanagable Revolutionaries should, therefore, be read not only as a study of past neglect, but also as a celebration and endorsement of emerging recognition of the role of women in Irish politics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pluto Press
• Release date: Nov 20, 1995
• ISBN: 9781783718740

Margaret Ward

Margaret Ward is a Research Fellow in History at the Bath College of Higher Education.

Book preview

Unmanageable revolutionaries

Unmanageable revolutionaries

Women and Irish nationalism

Margaret Ward

First published in 1989

Reprinted with a new preface 1995

Pluto Press

345 Archway Road, London N6 5AA

Copyright © Margaret Ward 1989, 1995

The right of Margaret Ward to be identified as the author

of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from

the British Library

ISBN 9780745310848 pbk

ISBN 0745310842 pbk

ISBN 9780745310855 hbk

ISBN 0745310850 hbk

ISBN 9781783718740 ePub

ISBN 9781783718757 Kindle

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

A catalog record for this book is available from

the Library of Congress

Printed on Demand by Antony Rowe Ltd, Eastbourne

For my mother

Contents

Preface to the 1995 printing

Introduction

Notes

Index

Preface to the 1995 printing

Unmanageable Revolutionaries was written thirteen years ago. A great deal has happened in Ireland since that time, and I and other researchers have subsequently discovered much more about women’s contribution to the course of Irish history. Despite this, I don’t think the argument I put forward then has been seriously challenged. My account of what took place during a century of struggle against British rule in Ireland demonstrated not only that Irish women had an important history – and one that had been largely ignored or forgotten – but also that their heroic contribution had in no sense encouraged the majority of their male comrades to recognise women as political equals. Only when women insisted upon the acceptance of their own agenda was any small progress made on their march to citizenship. However, disagreements over priorities meant that women themselves were often unable to present a united front, which meant that their impact on the overall direction of the movement was far less than it might otherwise have been.

Although I would not alter these conclusions, what I would do, if this book were to be written now, in the light of further research, would be to make more explicit the importance of those few occasions when support was given to each other by nationalist and feminist women. I think it is appropriate, given the very different circumstances we are living in (in comparison to the bleak times when I first began to research the activities of nationalist women), to use the opportunity of a new edition to outline some of that history. Now that political and military stalemate have been replaced by some optimism that there is a point to negotiation and discussion, the past efforts of women to be included in those discussions – and the absolute necessity of building a movement of mutual support – has even greater relevance than before. Those who believe knowledge of the past can contribute to a more informed understanding of the dilemmas of the present will, I hope, appreciate the importance of looking again at events which – although occurring in the early years of the century – have such important consequences for us all.

In the vital period after the 1916 Rising, while the nationalist movement slowly regrouped, all sorts of delicate negotiations were taking place behind closed doors to ensure that the movement remained united. Although the male leadership was ready to include many groups that might otherwise have caused difficulties if left on the outside, they proved to be more resistant to women’s claims for inclusion. Only after very determined action on the part of a small group of women was their demand for an equality of status at least partially accepted. It was an important time, the eve of the birth of the nation, and women were in danger of being sidelined from the real centres of power. The possible parallels with present-day events are striking.

In April 1917 a small group of women came together at the home of Countess Plunkett, mother of one of the executed leaders of the Rising. They included members of Cumann na mBan, women from the Irish Women Workers Union, former members of the Irish Citizen Army and some others who were unaligned with these groups. After her release from prison, Constance Markievicz was coopted into their ranks and a while later, on her return from America, the suffragist Hanna Sheehy-Skeffington also joined. They called themselves ‘The League of Women Delegates’, aiming to include any woman who was a member of one of the numerous nationalist groups. They later Gaelicised their name to Cumann na d’Teachtaire.¹ Many of the women at that meeting had fought in the Rising, while some were relatives of those who had signed the Proclamation of the Republic. All were determined that the promise of equal opportunity and equal citizenship contained in that Proclamation would be adhered to by those who were continuing the struggle for independence.

Aine Ceannt chaired that first meeting, the main decision of which was to write to those involved in the political reorganisation, pointing out that women were equally eligible with men to be elected as delegates. They hoped therefore that there would be a fair percentage of women elected onto the new political organisations. It was very clear that some of the most politically astute women in the nationalist movement suspected that they were being sold out, their claims to equality ignored in the political machinations then underway. An agenda was being created in which they would have no voice or influence.

Many weeks of frustration followed. The women’s letters were not replied to and eventually they were told they could join Cumann na mBan if they wanted to help the nationalist movement. However, unlike their male counterparts in the Volunteers, the women of Cumann na mBan would not be given seats on the executive of what had now become a reorganised Sinn Fein. Many of the women in Cumann na d’Teachtaire were not members of Cumann na mBan anyway, and this relegation to an auxiliary group was not what they were fighting for. Minutes of their meetings record ‘much surprise and indignation’ and ‘much surprise and dissatisfaction’ at this treatment. They were very angry. Eventually, in mid-September (five months after the group first met) an indignant deputation of women marched down to the offices of Sinn Fein. It seems unbelievable that women of the calibre of Jenny Wyse-Power, Aine Ceannt and Helena Moloney should find themselves forced into such an action. Wyse-Power had spent almost 40 years of her life working for the cause; Ceannt had been a Cumann na mBan activist since its formation and was now overcoming her grief at her husband’s execution by working for the dependents of those dead or imprisoned; Moloney had taken part in the Citizen Army attack on Dublin Castle in the first hours of the Rising and had suffered months of imprisonment as a result. The deputation was successful. Who could have rejected their plea? It was finally agreed that four ‘ladies’ would be coopted onto the Sinn Fein executive, on the understanding that none of them represented any organisation and that they were all members of a Sinn Fein branch. The stipulation that women delegates could not represent any other organisation was not a condition attached to the military men in the Volunteers. There seems to have been a real fear that a feminist caucus might otherwise develop and disrupt proceedings. This male determination to ensure that no organised faction of women would be allowed to come into existence is, I think, highly significant.

Women’s increased representation within the Sinn Fein movement had some immediate effect. Behind the scenes Dr Kathleen Lynn and Alice Ginnell, on behalf of Cumann na d’Teachtaire, had drafted a resolution on women’s equality which Dr Lynn was now able to put to the Sinn Fein executive and succeed in having it adopted as an executive resolution for the all-important Sinn Fein Convention of 1917: women’s equality within the organisation was to be affirmed in all contexts in the future. The 1917 Convention would be of enormous significance in bringing everyone together for the first time since the Rising and in formulating the policies that would guide the movement in the future. The women of Cumann na d’Teachtaire continued to meet and to plan for the Convention, in the hope that large numbers of women delegates would be attending, enabling them to organise a separate meeting which would institute an all-Ireland movement of republican women. It was a bitter disappointment to discover that only twelve women had been selected as delegates. There were an estimated one thousand in attendance at the Convention, and women were almost invisible in the crowd. There was no way in which the Dublin-based Cumann na d’Teachtaire could be broadened out into a representative and credible caucus of republican women.

The 1917 Sinn Fein Convention was a milestone in establishing the future direction of the movement that would eventually succeed in driving the British out of 26 counties of Ireland, but because of women’s lack of numbers, their participation in crucial debates was very limited. Laurence Ginnell, husband of Alice Ginnell, Cumann na d’Teachtaire secretary, spoke on the women’s behalf when he raised the question of coopting women onto the executive. As he rightly remarked ‘I am strongly of the opinion that unless this is done … the members would not co-opt any women. Certainly they would not co-opt many.’ His motion was ruled out of order.² One of the arguments was that there was no necessity for such a measure now that the constitution was pledged to uphold equality between the sexes. Any suggestion that positive action to rectify current inequalities was urgently required was rejected, while the lack of any women’s caucus ensured that counter-arguments were very few in number. The Convention was also a significant indicator as to the likely future status of women in an independent Ireland. Women’s support was essential and delegates were careful to maintain a unity of forces. But the majority of delegates were unable to accept the necessity for any self-criticism or for any adjustment to organisational practices. Refusal to accept any responsibility for sexual oppression, which was dismissed as another example of the evils of British rule, allowed Irish prejudices to remain unchallenged. Nevertheless, the feminist presence did have some results. Four women were elected onto the Sinn Fein executive and over the following months other women were coopted onto various Sinn Fein committees.

Cumann na d’Teachtaire continued to meet sporadically until early 1919. They had tentative meetings with representatives of suffrage groups and they organised a meeting on the urgent problem of venereal disease, succeeding in having representatives of ten women’s groups in attendance. They were dismayed at the lack of women candidates in the parliamentary elections of December 1918, as the minutes of their last recorded meeting revealed, and were determined to rectify that situation by pressing for many more women to be nominated as candidates for the forthcoming local government elections. The group’s objective had been redefined to include ensuring adequate representation for women in the republican government as well as facilitating the appointment of women to public boards throughout the country. All of this was happening as the country came under martial law, with increasing arrests and the banning of nationalist organisations. Eventually the situation became impossible and Cumann na d’Teachtaire found it could no longer meet.

The minute book of Cumann na d’Teachtaire is invaluable for many reasons, above all, for its picture of women’s determination to take a prominent role in the decisions of the republican movement. It is also worth commenting that the women formed the organisation because they realised that only through uniting their forces could they hope to have any impact.

The fragility of this unity is very evident in the campaign to secure the election of Constance Markievicz. The reluctance of local constituencies to nominate women as candidates had led to a spectacular imbalance between the sexes. Only two women were nominated as candidates. We still do not know enough about all the machinations that took place at this time, but new information is slowly coming forward. The imprisoned Kathleen Clarke, widow of one of the executed leaders of the Rising, discovered she had been the victim of dirty tricks in not securing nomination for a Dublin ward³ while Hanna Sheehy-Skeffington was suggested only for constituencies which would not have returned a Sinn Feiner. Private correspondence in the Sheehy-Skeffington archives now reveals the campaign on behalf of Constance Markievicz to have been full of tension as feminists unexpectedly found themselves bearing the brunt of the work. One former suffragist complained ‘the very nerve of Sinn Fein sets my teeth on edge. The one woman they have thrown as a sop to the women of the country has her interest neglected.’ Sheehy-Skeffington herself, although a recruit to Sinn Fein, was forced to protest ‘It’s the worst managed constituency in Dublin … As a woman’s organisation we feel we have a duty in this matter and think it is a disgrace to the women’s organisation if Madame Markievicz is let down by an inefficient committee.’⁴

Despite jubilation over the Markievicz victory – the first woman to be elected to parliament – the conclusion of the feminist paper, the Irish Citizen, was bitter: ‘Under the new dispensation the majority sex in Ireland has secured one representative. This is the measure of our boasted sex equality.’

Women’s struggle for full acceptance within the ranks of Irish republicans and the impact this has had upon policies has been a controversial subject. When Unmanageable Revolutionaries was published, the divisions recorded in the book were mirrored by the bitter disputes then fragmenting the Irish women’s movement of the late twentieth century. However, the past decade has been a time of gradual realignment and new understandings. The women from many different backgrounds and political viewpoints who have succeeded in regrouping nationalist feminists into the important new coalition Clar na mBan (Women’s Agenda), share many points of reference with the women of Cumann na d’Teachtaire.⁵ The women of Clar na mBan, and others who share their commitment to ensuring that women’s interests will be part of the agenda in negotiations on the constitutional future of Ireland, are feminists who have made common ground with each other because of a realisation that no one will fight for women, except women themselves. Their creation of a woman-defined programme challenges all political organisations to consider the defining features of a new Irish society.

Some organisations have begun to respond to these external and internal pressures. Sinn Fein, as a result of many years of determined campaigning by some of its most committed members, has become arguably the most ‘feminised’ of all Irish political parties. The policy decisions and organisational practices which have facilitated this commitment to a consciously gendered form of democracy are, we hope, both irreversible and continually evolving. At very least, the visibility of Sinn Fein women gives women from other groups an opportunity to ask questions of their own politicans. As the peace process continues to gain momentum, women are continuing their own agenda of building alliances, in the conscious knowledge that unless that is done, they will not be sufficiently empowered to take their rightful place when the future is negotiated. My most fervent hope is that this book will not appear to emphasise past conflicts but will be seen as having highlighted the necessity for unity amongst women so that a united voice can powerfully make demands for women’s place in the new constitutional structures which one day must emerge.

References

Introduction

The entire history of women’s struggle for self-determination has been muffled in silence over and over. One serious cultural obstacle encountered by any feminist writer is that each feminist work has tended to be received as if it emerged from nowhere; as if each of us had lived, thought, and worked without any historical past or contextual present. This is one of the ways in which women’s work and thinking has been made to seem sporadic, errant, orphaned of any tradition of its own.¹

As women living in a country where the past often appears to be as vivid as the present, many of us have been conscious of the fact that buried somewhere in the abundant chronicles of Irish history was evidence to show that women had also been politically active, and that they too warranted serious consideration by historians. We know about our ‘great women’—like Countess Markievicz, dressed for rebellion, proudly brandishing her revolver—but have continued to feel that they were only exceptionally striking instances of a type of woman common to that era. The question is why have all the other women disappeared into obscurity? Generally, the importance of women’s contribution has been dismissed in a few sentences as historians itemise what they consider to be the important events; events which have been evaluated in male terms. In many instances, what has been significant for men has not necessarily proved to be so for women, while on other occasions, the same historical event often has an additional significance for women. For that reason, writing women into history does not mean simply tagging them onto what we already know; rather, it forces us to re-examine what is currently accepted, so that a whole people will eventually come into focus: our historical categories will have to be revised. As a recent evaluator of the current stage of women’s history has concluded:

women’s history challenges mainstream history not to substitute the chronicle of the female subject for that of the male, but rather to restore conflict, ambiguity and tragedy to the centre of historical process: to explore the varied and unequal terms upon which genders, classes and races participate in the forging of a common destiny.²

Because women have been so marginal in the consciousness of those who have researched events, their significance has remained hidden within historical records, waiting for the understanding of someone who wants to know what women did, what they thought, and how they were affected by the upheavals of the past century. Although women’s history clearly reveals the importance of the powerless in contributing to the success of those who became powerful, this contribution has at times been deliberately played down, and not just simply undervalued. To give serious consideration to their role involves a reappraisal of the reasons for their subsequent exclusion from political and economic life and some soul-searching on the part of those who continue to uphold the primary importance of women’s domestic role.

While women were undoubtedly valuable and valiant fighters within the nationalist movement, one important qualification needs to be kept in mind when reading about their activities: the high points of women’s participation were also moments of exceptional political crisis, when women were either drawn into the movement because of the temporary (enforced) absence of men, or they were encouraged to participate because a strong, united front was desperately needed, and because women, when the military struggle began, were also needed for essential back-up services. At no stage were they accepted as equal members, as a closer examination of the role of those who seem to have transcended this limitation clearly demonstrates.

The one nationalist women’s organisation which was completely independent—Inghinidhe na hEireann—was formed because of women’s exclusion from all other groups, and it existed during a period of general regroupment, when women’s mobilisation was not even contemplated. The members of Inghinidhe had to fight for the right of women to participate alongside men; in effect, to alter the dominant consciousness concerning women’s role within society. Although they were successful, it was—like the formation of Cumann na mBan—only a partial victory in that women were then carefully consigned to the role of subordinates and given no real opportunity to influence the direction of the movement. Neither were they encouraged to put forward their own demands, in case these conflicted with, or diverted, the general thrust of nationalist concerns.

But there is another dimension to this study: the determined struggles that were waged by women on their own behalf, both by women within the nationalist movement and by those critical feminists who remained on the outside. The tensions this generated between opposing groups of women and, on occasion, between women and their male colleagues, are again echoed today as we live through another cycle of the nationalist struggle. And that, primarily, is why this book has been written.

The contradictions between nationalism and feminism continue to overwhelm us, as the debate over whether or not the campaign for political status waged by the women prisoners in Armagh jail was a feminist issue, so painfully confirmed. Many feminists were emotionally torn between their desire to support the sufferings endured by the women, and their concern lest this feminist solidarity be translated into unconditional support for the Provisionals. And, unhappily, women within Sinn Fein who are fighting for greater equality for women, isolated as they so obviously are, felt betrayed at the lack of public support by the feminist movement. If any realignment of feminists is ever to be achieved, we will have to start by honestly confronting these conflicting allegiances. One way to begin is to see what happened to our sisters of another generation. This book does not claim to contain the answers, but I hope it can provide a frame of reference by which we can begin to formulate the questions. I also hope that it provides a stimulus for other feminist historians, so that in the future a much fuller account of the history of Irish women will be available to us all.

1. The Ladies’ Land League, 1881-82

On 31 January 1881 a remarkable event took place. On that day Irishwomen were asked by Irishmen to take control of the turbulent mass movement known as the Land League. The Land War was then at its height, with thousands of tenant farmers pledged to fight against rack rents and landlord power, and the League leaders knew it was only a matter of time before they were jailed. The formation of a female organisation, which would be outside the terms of the Coercion Act, was therefore essential. Although the men considered women capable only of providing a ‘semblance’ of organisation, the gesture would symbolise their determination not to submit meekly to coercion. So, for the first time in Irish history, women were given the opportunity to participate in a political movement and, in the absence of men, found themselves free to assert their own principles and to develop their own organisational skills. Although little had been expected of them, they quickly revealed a determination to provide far more than ineffectual defiance. For the next 18 months militant women directed the campaign and organised resistance on the ground. As Michael Davitt testified: ‘Everything in the way of defeating the ordinary law and asserting the unwritten law of the League… was more systematically carried out under the direction of the ladies’ executive than by its predecessor.’¹

Yet very little has been written about this unique period and Anna Parnell, the driving force behind the Ladies’ Land League, is known only as the sister of Charles Stewart Parnell, hero of the Land League and, at one time, the ‘uncrowned king of Ireland’. The women’s contribution was carefully expurgated from most contemporary accounts, and with good reason: to have given serious consideration to their work would have involved a more critical appraisal of the Land League itself, and that was something many of the male leaders, busy congratulating themselves upon their success, preferred not to do.

The women’s assessment of the situation reveals an uncomfortably different picture, while their activities demonstrated that women were both fully capable of leading a mass movement and could be more efficient and strategically aware than their male colleagues. The rediscovery of Anna Parnell’s history of the period—the caustically entitled The Land League: Tale of a Great Sham’, written to stem this flood of male self-congratulation—has helped to redress the balance. It is a scrupulously impersonal narrative of events, in which she completely effaces her own contribution.² One historian has, although disagreeing with her conclusions, praised the ‘crystal clarity and surgical precision’ of her analysis.³ Its long disappearance enabled a single interpretation of events to remain dominant, which has not only distorted historical understanding, but has led to repercussions of which later generations of women have been only partially aware. The uncompromising stance of the women left a bitter taste in the mouths of male politicians and they were determined to ensure that women would never again be given the power that had been handed to the Ladies’ Land League. An awareness of the history of the Ladies’ Land League places into perspective the difficulties encountered by other women who later fought for a full and active role within the nationalist movement.

The Parnell Sisters

The Parnells came from a Protestant landed family of moderate wealth. Out of eleven children, three—Anna, Fanny and Charles Stewart—were to devote their lives to the cause of Irish independence. It was an unusual path for members of the Protestant ascendancy in Ireland, but much of their inspiration came from their American mother, Delia, who was deeply anti-British. Fanny, a well-known writer of nationalist poetry, had attended O’Donovan Rossa’s trial after the Fenian rising of 1867, and she retained a sympathy for Fenianism which was never shared by her brother. Her poems, in particular ‘Hold the Harvest’, described by Davitt as ‘the Marseillaise of the Irish peasant’, gave her a fame which lasted long after her death. Her poetry was published in newspapers in Ireland, England and America, while in Ireland lockets containing her portrait were sold for a shilling.⁴ While Anna and Fanny did not entirely share the same political views—Anna realised that the physical force tradition completely excluded women from its ranks—they both felt the injustice of women’s sexual oppression.

The period in which they lived offered few socially productive opportunities for women of their class. Ireland was a predominantly rural country with a peasant economy; the basic economic unit was the household, all the members of which worked on the land or in the declining cottage industries, which were adversely affected by the Industrial Revolution taking place in Britain. Only the north provided any large-scale wage labour for women: the Belfast linen industry had a 75 per cent female workforce. But for upper-class women, the role of governess was the only acceptable outlet, and that was a last resort for those without an inheritance.

The Parnell sisters’ position as unmarried daughters from a relatively impoverished Protestant landed family had certain advantages: the family was not part of the conservative Irish Catholic tradition and neither did it hold a particularly important position in the social and economic structures of the country. Delia’s American influence was also important: a contemporary account reveals that Anna was a regular reader of New York and Boston journals, and well acquainted with the views of the early American feminists who were fighting against slavery and for the rights of women.⁵

As a young girl living at home, she made friends with the Catholic daughters of a local miller, but broke off the friendship because she found them too conservative in their views, especially in their uncritical acceptance of church teaching on the natural inferiority of women. Her independence of mind made close relationships difficult; only Fanny shared her views.

Although Anna studied painting in Paris (where she was accompanied by her mother) and later attended art college in England, she had no hope of ever achieving financial independence. Her income consisted of a small allowance of £100 a year, derived from the Collure estate of another brother, John Howard, and provided by the terms of her father’s will. All the boys inherited property while the girls of the family received identical allowances. Charles, as the inheritor of the family estate of Avondale, was responsible for the support of any member of the family living there. This economic dependence was a humiliation, and Anna wrote with bitterness of the custom of the upper classes of ‘giving all, or nearly all, to the sons and little or nothing to the daughters’.⁶ The allowances received by such women were usually at the mercy of the family fortunes—if these declined, then one of the first economies was to cut off these stipends. Anna empathised with the ignominy of their position, left to the mercy of charitable funds and ‘little less the victims of the landlords than the tenants themselves’.

As a landlord—albeit a benevolent one—Charles Parnell remained unequivocally a member of his class. Anna, however, became more and more critical of the existing social structures. Her alienation was a consequence of her realisation that, as a dependant of her brother, she was simultaneously of the landlord class and estranged from and exploited by it. Her denunciation of her class was couched in terms which did not exclude her brother: ‘if the Irish landlords had not deserved extinction for anything else, they would have deserved it for the treatment of their own women.’ Few women of similar background saw so clearly the links between their sexual oppression and the class exploitation of labourers and small farmers which underpinned the social and economic structures.

Anna, because of her sex, was deprived of the right to vote or to take political office—a disenfranchisement she acutely resented, as her sardonically entitled Notes From The Ladies’ Cage testifies. This was a series of articles, written for the Celtic Monthly, evaluating the Irish party’s performance in the House of Commons at Westminster; this she witnessed from the secluded gallery where women were allowed to view the proceedings, but not to participate.⁷ An Irish Suffrage Society had been formed in Dublin, in 1876, by two Quakers, Anna and Thomas Haslam, to campaign for women’s right to vote in local government elections. Its limited aims and moderate views had little appeal for women who wanted a total reform of Irish society and the breaking of the enforced political and economic link with Britain. Anna’s exclusion from political life had a paradoxically positive aspect, enabling her to analyse events unswayed by any considerations of future personal power. While Parnell was courted by the English Liberals, his sister became an uncompromising nationalist, refusing to surrender political principles for short-term personal or political gains.

The formation of the Land League

There had been movements centred around land distribution and high rents before, but none had welded small tenant farmers, large farmers, landless labourers, parliamentarians and politically committed women into a social force which would ultimately change a land system in which 800 landlords owned half the country. Different economic circumstances, combined with a change in political direction, were to create the conditions from which the Land League emerged.

The Great Famine of 1845 had left 800,000 dead while hundreds of thousands fled from the scene of such horror. This decimation of the population had many consequences. People were determined to prevent such a catastrophe from ever happening again, and the only way of doing that (in the absence of a revolutionary transformation of society) was to reduce the numbers of people dependent upon each plot of land. In the east and south of the country, the small farms had been consolidated into larger ranches, bought up by those who had survived, but in the west the peasants still scraped out a living on their tiny plots of land, the potato still their staple diet. Although it was, in some respects, a pre-Famine existence, they too postponed marriage to a later age and no longer subdivided the land for their sons and daughters, so afraid were they of the consequences of rearing large numbers of children on a food that had once been tainted with blight. Those who had emigrated wrote of the better land they had found, and dissatisfaction