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  The burning of the castle broke Colonel Longfield. It was too bitter. He said he would never go back to Ireland. The Anglo-Irish had coped as best they could with their divided nationality. They had been deserted by the English politically, seen their estates sold away from them and the Union dissolved. Now the Irish, among whom they counted themselves, had burnt them out. It was not just the material loss (everything went up in flames), it was the brutal statement of feeling; the flames said, “this is what your past here means to us”, and the emotional bolt, like a burning arrow went straight to Longfield’s heart. The newspaper mentioned that Col. Longfield was popular in the neighbourhood; he had allowed many tenants to buy their farms. But to him it felt as though Ireland had turned on him in a vicious, personal attack; his whole family history had gone up in the conflagration.

  Apparently, during the Great Famine, Mountifort’s father, a wealthy man, had evicted some of his tenants, and memories of this were still alive. Another ancestor had been responsible for hangings around the Cloyne area during the United Irishmen’s uprising in 1798, when insurgents fought to establish an Irish republic inspired by the principles of the French revolution. At that time Irish landlords, such as the Longfields, were part of the British administration in Ireland, were charged with maintaining law and order. These deeds may have had some influence, as memories of past injustices are very long in Ireland. Perhaps there were local people waiting ‘in the long grass’.

  Longfield’s English wife, Alice, was not to be easily defeated. Determined to go back and rebuild, she persuaded her husband not to follow in the footsteps of their relatives, the Bessboroughs in Kilkenny, who had suffered enough intimidation during this chaotic time and left for Sussex, never to return. Their castle had been burnt but was later restored and is now an agricultural college in Piltown, Co. Kilkenny.

  Many other families the Longfields knew left after their houses were burnt and their estates encumbered. But the Longfields stayed on, and Alice supervised the rebuilding of the stables and coach house at a cost of £5,240. They were compensated by the new Irish Free State government for the loss of the Castle. Initially awarded a decree for £60,000, they only received half this amount.11 Mountifort Longfield did not recover and his enthusiasm for his estate was gone forever. During the 1920s, his land withered away as land laws were passed by the new Irish Government.

  A few other houses were burnt in the area around Castle Mary. The Penrose-FitzGerald’s house, Careystown House, was burnt in the 1920s. Aghada Hall, owned by General Sir Joseph Thackwell, a Protestant, was burnt at this time, and the Goold-Adams family from Jamesbrook Hall were forced out in the 1920s and never returned, though the house was not burnt.

  Since the Land War of the 1870s, relations between landowners and tenants were poisoned socially and politically. Landlords had been taken aback by the bitterness of the people around them, demonstrated in the series of outrages. Terence Dooley, in The Decline of the Big House in Ireland, tells of an incident that demonstrates the sad bewilderment of a landlord whose house had been burnt.

  Maurice Headlam related a story regarding an elderly landlord and his wife with whom he shared a train journey the night after their house had been burned. The old lady told him: ‘When we went down the avenue into the village, every door was shut and barred. No one would take us in. I knew every one of them, their fathers and mothers, their grandparents, all their children, and I thought they were my friends.’12

  Lord Lansdowne’s house, Derreen, near Kenmare, Co. Kerry, was vandalised in September 1922, including the gardens that he had developed for over half a century. He served as Viceroy of India and Governor General of Canada; a pillar of the British Empire and its most loyal Irish servant. The trees were cut down and sold, the doors, windows and floors were wrecked, the staircase destroyed and furniture was stolen or smashed. The contents were taken away in carts. The gardener’s house was burned to the ground and he and his wife lost everything. The housekeeper was robbed. Lord Lansdowne wrote a letter to The Times on 4 September 1922:

  What is happening, and has happened, is not a conflict in the open between enemies, but the relentless and persistent persecution of a helpless minority, which is obnoxious because it is regarded as of an alien origin, because it stands for law and order, because its possessions are coveted and because it is the settled policy of the conspirators to oust it from the country.

  He was clear that the ‘conspirators’ were essentially partly motivated by a policy of ethnic cleansing, whether to gain more land or to ‘oust’ these aliens from Ireland. Lansdowne added in his application for compensation to the Irish Grants Committee that ‘had the owner been a known sympathiser of Sinn Féin aspirations, Derreen would not have suffered’.13 The once-Governor of Canada and Viceroy of India would hardly sympathise with the republican attitudes of Sinn Féin.

  Later he received compensation from the Free State, and the local parish priest assisted in retrieving some of the stolen furniture that had found its way into local houses. Lansdowne loved Derreen. He planned to retire there, but died on the way back from England in 1927, aged 82.

  My relative, Emily Howard Bury, whose son was Colonel Howard-Bury of Belvedere house in Mullingar, the leader of the first Everest expedition, was also the subject of various attacks at Charleville Forest, Tullamore in August, 1922. A house on the estate, Brookfield, was destroyed by fire. Mr and Mrs Brown, unionists, lived there, Mr Brown being the estate agent. Some of the walls of the estate were broken down and 80 deer were slaughtered. Charleville Forest Castle was occupied by the Irregulars for a considerable time and much damage was done. After that, the Free State troops took possession ‘for a lengthy period’.14 Emily obtained £3,480 in compensation from both the Free State and the Irish Grants Committee when she was 72, and restored Brookfield House. She wrote in her application for compensation:

  It is quite clear a conspiracy started in 1920 to drive all loyalists out of Ireland to make their places absolutely no use to them with the object of getting hold of their land as being aliens in the country.15

  Some Bury descendents from the marriage of John Bury and Jane Palliser in 1704 lived in the Kilmacthomas area in Co. Waterford. One was Caroline Fairholme, whose Comeragh estate initially belonged to William Palliser, the Archbishop of Cashel. It had descended to Captain John Palliser, who did not marry, and because the estate was so encumbered, it was given to his sister, Grace Palliser, so that she and her husband William Fairholme could relieve it of its debts. The couple had 5 unmarried daughters, including Caroline. The IRA burnt part of it down in 1923, and with it 400 years of family history. The property then ended up in the hands of Pieter Menten, a Dutch Nazi who was hunted down, arrested and then spent much of his time in prison in the Netherlands. He had hidden there behind the gates, surrounded by the many valuables stolen from the Jews he had persecuted.

  John, William and Grace were 3 of the many children of Wray Palliser and Grace Barton of the famous Barton and Guestier wine family. Sean Murphy, a local historian, commented on the Pallisers:

  The Pallisers were good religious people in this area, as were the Miss Fairholmes, neices of John Palliser. Comeragh house was burned not as any reflection against the Fairholmes but as an act against the Free State government who were carrying out a policy of executions in order to bring the Civil War to a close. You may be aware that the Civil War finally petered out in the Comeragh mountains not far from Comeragh house when the IRA leaders then on the run agreed to dump arms. The house was rebuilt on a smaller scale but many of the artifacts of Palliser were lost including papers through burning or looting.

  Nearby, the Hunts, other descendants of the Burys, lived in Rockmount house. The owner, Arthur Hunt, wrote poignantly to his wife after their house had been burnt:

  Dungarvan, 16 February 1923

  My dearest Old Girl,

  You will have my wire with sad news about our house being burned could not save anything scarcely. I got my desk & papers out
& your desk & just a few odds & ends, Nurse got the 2 kids away to John’s room, & hope they have gone to Seafield by now. I sent Monahan (the groom) this morn fearing they might be burnt as Comeragh House also gone. I went last night to see them [the Fairholmes]. The fellows came at 9 o’clock & only gave us 5 minutes. All your things are gone- You better get measured for a habit at Perkins [Tailor at Porlock, Somerset, England].

  Such luck Grace had gone as it would have been very bad for her. I came to see Jack Williams [solicitor] but he cannot take up claim so will go to Chapman.

  I cannot write more - I will sleep in room next to John’s for a night or two. I am bewildered but hope to hunt tomorrow & it will do me good.

  Best love Yr. loving Arthur.

  Arthur’s son, Colonel Thomas Hunt, now lives in retirement in England. He recently wrote vividly about the events of that fateful night:

  On the night of 15th Feb 1923, my father, Arthur Hunt, my brother Robin (two and a half) and myself (five and a half) were living in Rockmount. My mother was over in England staying with her parents in Somerset.

  Earlier that day a delivery of some 50 gallons of paraffin had been delivered to the house and stored in the basement for use in the lamps. This was probably a coincidence, however the fire was started in the sitting-room which had been drenched in paraffin. I am convinced the house was destined to be burned, paraffin or no paraffin, but my father was doubtful.

  My father had made no plans to safeguard any of the contents of the house because he believed that the IRA had given a promise that they would not burn the house down. We had an IRA company camped in one of our fields some quarter of a mile from Rockmount and each evening about 3 or 4 officers came into the kitchen for an evening meal. Before they left, when the IRA was disbanding they gave my father that assurance. Of course, we had no choice whether we fed them or not.

  Although I can’t be sure, I believe that the gang who burned the house were not the same men who were based on Rockmount. I was told that they were on their way home west to Cork & Kerry [IRA strongholds] and decided as a last act to burn several houses in County Waterford whose owners were believed to be unionists [i.e in favour of remaining inside the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland]. Although my father was a unionist, he was not politically active; indeed it would not have been wise to adopt a strong political line with a considerable Republican force camped on your farm.

  When the IRA arrived at Rockmount, around 9.00 pm, they told my father that he had 15 minutes to get out. Not having a pre-determined plan he must have been ‘bewildered’ (his term, not mine) so after calling out John, a groom, to rescue the two children, all he could think to do was to save his collection of cut-throat razors (one for each day of the week). I was asleep alone in the small front bed-room when John burst in, picked me out of my bed and carried me on his shoulders out to the farm-yard. I don’t know who rescued Robin, but both of us were taken into a small unoccupied cottage in the yard which had been occupied until some months previously by Martin, the cow-man. The room was infested by swarms of hungry fleas which attacked my brother and myself so that I have seldom had a more uncomfortable night, even during my service in the War in Italy.

  Next morning, my father took me over to see the still smoking shell of the house. All the walls were very strongly built of stone and remained standing; the centre of the house was a heap of rubble. Only two things remained intact - the iron safe built into an outside wall and just above it, a wooden cupboard also built into the wall, inside of which was a collection of old cylindrical phonograph records some of which had partly melted but others were almost intact. Many of the records were by the great Irish singer Count John McCormack, including one which I still remember ‘When the fields were white with daisies.’

  Not everything in the house was lost. As soon as the neighbours heard what was about to happen, they turned out and removed many pieces of furniture and other portable objects which they stacked up on the lawn. Perhaps the most valuable item to be lost was the very first Waterloo Cup for hare coursing by greyhounds. The event began in the early 19th century and was held annually until 2005 when hunting animals with dogs became illegal.

  As I was quite young at the time, I cannot now remember how many houses were burned that same night in County Waterford. I think perhaps five or six. One was Comeragh House, about half a mile from Rockmount owned by three old ladies, the Fairholmes. Why these harmless old woman should have had their house destroyed is a mystery to me. Another house, Gardenmorris, not more than 6 or 7 miles away from Rockmount was also burned. It belonged to a Colonel O’Shea, a Roman Catholic who had served many years in the British Army. I mention his religion simply to explain that the destruction policy - if there was one - did not seem to be aimed exclusively at the Anglo-Irish Protestant community, although all the other houses which were burned did, I believe, belong to this group.16

  The Langleys, also descended from the Limerick Burys, lived near Rockmount. The grandson of the 1923 owner of Tay Lodge, Peter Langley has his old home is only 2 miles from Comeragh House. It was also targeted by the IRA the fateful night of 18 February, 1923. Like his first cousin Arthur Hunt, Peter’s grandfather had also just got in a fresh supply of paraffin oil for the lamps. In Peter’s words:

  … I believe he had been warned that something like this might happen, so the previous Sunday, while everyone around was at mass, he had buried the drum in the garden and planted cabbages on top. Unable to get the fire going properly, the groom who lived in the yard rounded up a lot of the locals. The IRA departed eventually and the fire was put out without too much damage being done. I still have a dressing table one of the drawers of which is charred.17

  In Monaghan, 7 big houses were burned, including Gola, Glenburne House and Ballybay, the home of Henry Leslie. Lord Lanesborough’s house and furniture were burnt in Cavan in May 1921. In Co. Roscommon, Lord French’s house was stripped and everything was carried away in carts. The contents of Glenfarne house in Co. Leitrim were stolen, and, as described in the previous chapter, Kilboy, owned by Lord Dunalley in Tipperary, was robbed of silver plate, jewellery and farm implements. The furniture was redistributed around local houses in the area.

  Many houses were burned after the Civil War started; in fact, 199 big houses, which was about 3 times more than ‘during the War of Independence’.18 De Valera disapproved of the new senate and those who opposed the Treaty set about burning 16 of the senators’ big houses. Many of the new senators were Protestants, and Sir Antony Esmonde was an example. He was a nationalist MP and a good landlord, yet his house, Ballynastragh, Co. Wexford, was set alight in 1923. His outstanding library went up in flames, which affected him more deeply than the loss of the house. Lord Carew’s house was burned at Castleboro, Co. Wexford, as was Colonel Moore’s mansion, Moore Hall, Claremorris, Co. Mayo. Palmerstown in Kildare, Lord Mayo’s house, was burned in January 1923 as a reprisal for the execution of 6 anti-Treatyites, which had nothing to do with him.

  Senator Horace Plunkett’s home, Kilteragh, Co. Dublin, went up in smoke. The son of Lord Dunsany, he was a patriot and a practical visionary, who tirelessly worked to establish co-operative dairying and agricultural credit and experimental farming. He had played a major and controversial role in the 1917 Irish Convention but left for England afterwards, bitterly disillusioned. He had given his heart to Ireland, something John Redmond had in disillusionment advised Lady Fingleton never to do.

  The Mayo home of Lord Killanin in Spiddal was burnt after the cook and maid had thrown out the linen and pots and pans. Roxborough House in Co. Galway, the childhood home of Lady Gregory, the ardent Protestant nationalist, was torched in 1922. Judith Hill in An Irish Life notes that 2 years later, Lady Gregory visited it and wrote: ‘the house – the ruin – is very sad, just the walls standing, blackened, and all the long yards silent, the many buildings, dairy, laundry, cow-houses, coach-houses, stables, kennels, smithy, sawmill and carpenters’ shop empty.’ A whole way of life had go
ne.

  In west Cork, Kilbrittain Castle was burnt in 1920. In Head or Harp, Lionel Fleming writes of ‘a constant succession of events which were both shocking and mysterious. The house of some quite respectable man would be burnt down – nobody knew why.’ Fleming’s father wrote in his diary:

  Co. Cork was badly hit. On May 26th [1920], Kilbrittain Castle was burnt. On December 2nd, Timoleague House was burnt. In Cork in May 1921 Sir Alfred Dobbins’ house in Montenotte, Cork was set on fire as was Maud Jacobs’ in Blackrock. In the latter case, Maud Jacobs’ crime was that her daughter was going out with a member of the Crown Forces. In Co. Cork in June Major Charles Coote’s house and furniture, near Mallow, and the house and furniture of Mr Cooke- Collis in Kilworth were burnt. On June 30th (1921) Castle Bernard was burnt (Lord Bandon’s home) and Lord Bandon kidnapped. On June 24th, the Hawkes left Barry’s Hall, and on the 28th, Mayfield was burnt … on 26th March (1923) Richmond and Brookfield were burnt … On April 13th Gortnahorna and Hare Hill were burnt.19

  In Donegal, The Irish Times reported on 27 May 1921 that Culduff House in Inishboffin, the home of George Young and ‘one of the finest in the country’ was burnt down, and a week earlier Lord O’Neill’s castle near Randalstown met the same fate.

  Molly Keane’s father’s house in Ballyrankin, Co. Carlow, was torched, along with three others, as a reprisal for Black and Tan activities. A splendid new mansion, Dunboy near Castletownbere, Co. Cork, was also burnt. The English butler, Albert Thomas, wrote on the night it went up in flames: