The brutal killing of the Joyce family, the subsequent round up of the 10 accused, their trial and the sentencing of three men to hang, while the rest pleaded guilty and faced a life of penal servitude, gripped the public yet again when it had barely recovered from the Phoenix Park murders. In particular the evidence by the Cappanacrehas, and by Philbin and Casey understandably caused deadly resentment in Connemara, which still finds an echo today.
Every nuance, every tittle-tattle, every twist and turn of the crime, its investigation and its outcome was endlessly debated by every hearth, and wherever people gathered. Despite the apparently overwhelming evidence against the 10 accused there was a feeling that there was something flawed in this rush to justice.
Then a sensational development. Two days before their execution, Pat Joyce and Pat Casey (who were at the Joyce’s home the night when the murders occurred ), after some cajoling, were prevailed upon, to declare that Myles Joyce was completely innocent; nor had he any hand or part in the killings.
Pat Joyce gave a statement, which was carefully recorded, stating that 'Seven persons were present at the time of the murder in the house. Namely, myself, Michael Casey, prisoner, Pat Casey, prisoner Thomas Casey, approver, and three now at liberty, and I don't like to mention their names.....Anthony Philbin was not present , and I never seen him in the neighbourhood for the last three years. The Cappanacrehas, who swore against us did not, nor could not, have seen us the night of the murder. There was no meeting whatever in Thomas Casey's house; the Cappancrehas said there was. The meeting took place in the house of one of the men who is out, and is a farmer. The murder was not the work of a Secret Society, but was caused by this man (the farmer ) who is outside, for spite.'
Decision refused
This was a solemn and a substantial statement written as it was under the shadow of death. It stated quite clearly that Myles was innocent; and by omission inferred that both Pat Joyce and Pat Casey were involved. Its urgency, and obvious sincerity was not lost on the governor of Galway prison, George Mason, and the chief warder, Richard Evans, who also witnessed the 'confession'.
It was immediately sent to Dublin Castle for prompt consideration. There must have been an expectation that the execution of Myles Joyce would at least be delayed to allow further investigation. The authorities, however, refused to alter the decision of the court. *
The men were executed, but witnesses were appalled at the final minutes of Myles. The poor man kept repeating his innocence. He feared not to die, but he felt the indignity of being put to death as a murderer. On his way to his execution he shouted his innocence in his native language, and everyone understood what he was saying. Even on the scaffold, and blindfolded he turned to where he heard voices to again protest his anguish and innocence. Somehow his arm got tangled in the rope, necessitating the executioner, William Marwood, to use force to push him into the pit.
Example was made
It was never satisfactorily explained why the Joyce family, with the exception of the boy Patrick, was so brutally shot and bludgeoned to death. There are a number of theories including the belief that the old Mrs Joyce had given information to the RIC where to find the bodies of Joseph and John Huddy, agents of Lord Ardilaun of Ashford, who were murdered and dumped into Lough Mask. It was also said that the teenage daughter of John Joyce, Peggy, was flirting with a local RIC constable; and that John Joyce was a sheep-stealer, taking his neighbour's sheep and selling them.
However, Dublin Castle believed that John Joyce was a member of a local secret society, one of the many informal Ribbon/Fenian enforcement groups that had grown out of the Land War which the British authorities were determined to stamp out. The rumour was that Joyce had pocketed funds, and that an example was made of him and his family.
Constable Geary
There may be some credence to the secret society idea. Even though two days before they were hanged Patrick Joyce and Pat Casey denied they belonged to any secret society. The only witness to the crime, young Patrick Joyce, stated that the men who burst into his home that August night all had their faces blackened, and all wore bawneens, an indication that some kind of uniform was worn.
But significantly, John Joyce had, for the time, a considerable sum of money on him the night he was murdered. Eamonn Geary, Athenry, said that his grandfather, Constable Geary, was stationed at a sub RIC barracks in the townland of Killiteane, then in Co Galway. He was involved in the initial investigation into the Joyce murder. Going through the dead man's clothes, Constable Geary found £3 in notes, and seven shillings, a considerable sum for a man living in very poor conditions on the hillside.*
Next week: The informers Anthony Philbin and Tom Casey return to Maamtrasna.
NOTES: * The British legal system can be slow, or maybe there is another word for it, to admit a legal decision can be wrong. The struggle of the so called Birmingham Six, who in their attempts to appeal their imprisonment for the Birmingham pub bombings on November 21 1974, appeared in court showing signs of ill-treatment. Fourteen prison officers were charged with assault, but the case was thrown out. It was appealed, but was again rejected.
In the present controversy over the suitability of some men serving in the Metropolitan Police Service, London, it is interesting to note that one of the judges, and Master of the Rolls, Lord Denning, made a famous observation about that appeal by the Birmingham Six, which thanks to the magic of Google can still be seen: ‘ Just consider the course of events if their [the Six's] action were to proceed to trial ... If the six men failed it would mean that much time and money and worry would have been expended by many people to no good purpose. If they won, it would mean that the police were guilty of perjury; that they were guilty of violence and threats; that the confessions were involuntary and improperly admitted in evidence; and that the convictions were erroneous. That would mean that the Home Secretary would have either to recommend that they be pardoned or to remit the case to the Court of Appeal. That was such an appalling vista that every sensible person would say, 'It cannot be right that these actions should go any further.' They should be struck out either on the ground that the men are stopped from challenging the decision of Mr Justice Bridge, or alternatively that it is an abuse of the process of the court. Whichever it is, the actions should be stopped.’
Dublin Castle was convinced that the Maamtrasna murders were committed by one of several secret societies which had grown out of the Land League’s demands for tenant’s rights. It regarded the rapid development of the Land League with growing concern. Even though the League was condemned by the Catholic church (many priests were landlords ), some 8,000 people attended a mass rally in Westport the previous June, which was addressed by Charles S Parnell. The meeting had previously been condemned by John MacHale the all powerful Archbishop of Tuam. Nevertheless it went ahead.
The movement, however, became unstoppable. Initially the main issue was rent, which was typically paid in the spring; but due to the poor harvest in 1881, tenants could not afford to pay, and many were threatened with eviction. At the Westport meeting Parnell promoted the the idea that the peasant farmer should own the land he worked. This was understandably popular with all tenant farmers, which was widely commented upon in the press as far afield as London.
While the Land League may have been infiltrated by violent men or gangs, it was essentially a peaceful movement. One of its main tactics was the famous boycott , whose target at first were “ land grabbers ”, who replaced an evicted tenant. Parnell gave a speech in Ennis in 1889, proposing that when dealing with such tenants, rather than resorting to violence, everyone in the locality should shun them. This tactic was then widened to include landowners. The term “boycott” was coined later that year following the successful campaign against County Mayo land agent Charles Boycott . The concerted action taken against him meant that Boycott was unable to hire anyone to harvest his crops. Boycott was forced to leave Ireland; and the tactic spread throughout the country.
In this Punch caricature an Irish landlord begs for rent, while the tenant arrogantly smokes while carrying a weapon behind his back. The Irish social world was about to change as a result of the growing popularity of the Irish National Land League.
