Chapter 20

THE EDENBURN OUTRAGE

In the early part of the winter of 1884, so bad did the state of Kerry become, and so menacing was the attitude of the Land Leaguers towards myself, that I felt I had no right to endanger the lives of my wife and daughters by any longer permitting them to reside at Edenburn.

In all those years, from 1878 to 1884, be it noted that I gave more employment in Kerry than any one man, a fact which has been testified to by different parish priests, but at the same time I was agent for a great many landlords, and tried my level best to get in rents for my employers.

For this cause my life had been repeatedly threatened, and now, in November 1884, dynamite was put to my house, the back of it being badly blown up. There were sixteen individuals in the house, mostly women and children, and an attempt was therefore made to murder them all in the effort to take the life of one individual they were afraid to meet in the open.

The house was repaired and I received compensation in due course from the County, but my family did not think after what had occurred that Edenburn was a desirable place of residence. So I henceforth resided much in London, and therefore spent a great deal less money in Kerry.

Perhaps, however, I had better be a little more diffuse about what was known all over the British Isles as the Edenburn Outrage, but the bulk of this chapter will be drawn from observations by members of my family and newspaper accounts, for the episode left considerably less impression on my mind than it did on that of my womenfolk, and indeed on the public, at the time.

To show how matters stood, one of my daughters reminds me that I gave her a very neat revolver as a present, and that whenever she came back from school she always slept with it under her pillow. Moreover, she recollects that the customary Sunday afternoon pursuit was to have revolver practice at the garden gate.

There had been several episodes of an ugly nature; for example, one of my sons competing in some sports at Tralee was advised to make an excuse and to go home separately from the womenfolk.

He took the hint, and my wife with the governess and several children went back without him in the waggonette. About a mile and a half from the town, just where the horses had to walk up a steep hill, a number of men with bludgeons and sticks came out of a ditch, peered into the trap, and seeing it contained nothing but women and children let it pass on with a grunt of disgust, whilst they trudged back to Tralee.

One of my daughters, years after, on being taken in to dinner in London, was asked by her companion if she was any relation of mine.

She having confessed the fact--one I hope in no way detrimental, though I say so, perhaps, who should not--he mentioned that he had been to a most cheery dance at Edenburn, which had made a great impression on his mind, because for seven miles along the road by which he and his friends drove there were pickets of constabulary, and the hall table was piled so full with the revolvers brought by the guests, that all the hats and coats had to be taken to the smoking-room.

It may be as well to again mention that my wife during the very worst periods had never any difficulty in keeping or obtaining domestic servants. No doubt the maids liked having two or three stalwart constables always hanging about the place, and capital odd job men they made.

A constable neatly humbugged a footman, and I may here mention the incident, though it is subsequent to the episode of this chapter.

One house we took in London was in Glendower Place, and when the servants arrived, my wife found that the footman's face was covered with sticking-plaster. He was a regular gossoon, though shaped like a fine specimen of the pampered menials who condescend to open the front door of large mansions to their betters.

A constable had hoaxed him into believing that he could never walk in the London streets without using firearms, and having advised him to learn to do so, the idiot put the weapon against his cheek, and the first kick had knocked away a voluminous portion of his countenance.

At the end of November 1884, we were packing up to leave, and all the big cases were in the stable-yard ready to be carted away. There were five policemen at the time in the house, and two of them were on sentry duty all through the night.

None of us had had good nights for some time past, but on the evening of November 29th I came back from the meeting of the Board of Guardians at Listowel, and said to my wife as we sat down to dinner:--

'After all, we are starting for England to-morrow morning without any necessity, for I do believe the country is beginning to settle down.'

This is the only occasion on which I ever ventured on a cheerful prophecy since Ireland came under the baneful spell of Mr. Gladstone, and it was the most foolish remark I ever made.

That night came the explosion, but I prefer to let the press tell the tale.

The _Manchester Guardian_ relates:--

'The explosive matter was placed under an area in the basement story, dynamite being the agent employed for the outrage. A large aperture was made in the wall, which is three feet thick. Several large rents running to the top have been made, and it now presents a most dilapidated appearance. The ground-floor, where the explosion occurred, was used as a larder, and everything in it was smashed to pieces, the glass window-frames and shutters being shivered into atoms. On the three stories above it, the explosion produced a similar effect. To the right of it, one of Mr. Hussey's daughters was sleeping, and the window of her room was entirely destroyed. Mr. J.E. Hussey, J.P., slept in another room about thirty feet from the scene of the explosion, and his window and room fared similarly. The butler slept in a small room on the basement, which was completely wrecked, the windows being shattered to pieces, the lamp and toilet broken, and the greater part of the ceiling thrown on him in the bed. The length of the house is about fifty yards, and the windows in the back, numbering twenty-six, have been altogether destroyed. Mr. S.M. Hussey and his wife slept in the front, and they were much affected by the explosion. Three policemen who had been stationed in the house for the past couple of years slept on a ground-floor in front. The coach-house and stables near the house were considerably damaged. In the garden two greenhouses, one about 120 yards away, and the other fully 150, were injured, the greater portion of the glass being broken and the roofs shaken. In several houses at long distances the shock was plainly felt. The dwelling-house subsequently presented a very wrecked appearance. On looking at the back of it, there are several rents or cracks to be seen in the solid masonry, and the slates are shaken and displaced. Everything shows the terrific force of the explosion. In the yard a large slate-house was much damaged, the slates being displaced and the roof shaken and cracked. A large stone was found here, having been blown from the dwelling-house.'

From the _Times_ may be culled these additional particulars:

'There is a fissure some inches wide in the main wall from the ground to the roof, and a little more force would have effected the evident object of making the residence of the obnoxious agent a heap of ruins. The damage done is estimated at from £2000 to £3000, but this is only a rough conjecture.'

The _Cork Constitutional_ throws further light in a somewhat badly expressed article:--

'The most extraordinary circumstance connected with the outrage is the secrecy and stealth which must have been resorted to in order to avoid detection. It was well known in the neighbourhood that not alone were three policemen constantly at Edenburn for Mr. Hussey's protection, but that a number of dogs were also kept on the premises, and it is, therefore, astonishing the care and caution which must have been resorted to in order to successfully lay and explode the destructive material. Some idea of the force of the explosion as well as the stability of the building which resisted it in a measure, may be gathered from the fact that it was distinctly heard in the town of Castleisland four miles away. Mr. R. Roche, J.P., who lives a mile from Edenburn, also distinctly heard the explosion, which he describes as resembling in sound that caused by the fall of a huge tree in close proximity. Those who were at Edenburn at the time state that between four and half-past four a low rumbling noise, followed by a sharp report, was heard. The house trembled and shook to its foundations. The inmates, some of whom were only awakened by the shock, were seized with an indescribable terror. All the windows were smashed to atoms, the furniture and fixtures in the interior were rattled, and some lighter articles disturbed from their position. The suddenness of the alarm, and the darkness of the night, coupled with an indefinite idea as to the nature and extent of the explosion, made the occupants of the house afraid to stir, and it was not until some servants living adjacent arrived that the consternation caused in the household subsided sufficiently to enable them to examine the house, and judge of the narrow escape they had had from a violent and horrible death.'

The consternation most decidedly did not spread to the master and mistress of the establishment. The _Kerry Sentinel_ quickly had an allusion to 'a report that Mr. Hussey turned into bed after the outrage with one of his laconic jokes--that he should be called when the next explosion occurred.'

As a matter of fact what I did say was:-"My dear, we can have a quiet night at last, for the scoundrels won't bother us again before breakfast."

And I can solemnly testify that within ten minutes of that observation I was fast asleep, and never woke till I was called.

But perhaps the best impression of what occurred can be obtained from the recollection of my daughter Florence, now Mrs. Nicoll, who was an inmate of Edenburn at the time.

'I was awakened by a terrific noise, which to my sleepy wits conveyed the impression that the roof had fallen in. It was then between three and four in the morning. I lit a candle and ran out into the passage where were congregating my family in night attire. My father was perfectly calm.

'"Dynamite and badly managed," was his laconic explanation. We all asked each other if we were hurt, and began to be alarmed about my brother John, who, however, put in an appearance in a singularly attenuated nightshirt, with a candle in one hand and a revolver in the other, with which he was rubbing his sleepy eyes.

'"Singular time of night, John, to try chemical experiments without our permission, is it not?" said my father.

'Then John and my mother went downstairs to inspect the premises; of the back windows, thirty-four in number, there was not a bit of glass as big as a threepenny piece left. Our brougham was in the yard; the window next the explosion was intact, but the one on the further side was blown to smithereens.

'The servants were very scared, and one maid having rushed straight to a sitting-room, was there found hysterically embracing a sofa cushion.

'We received one odd claim for compensation. An old woman living half a mile off complained that the force of the explosion had knocked some of the plaster off the wall, and that it had fallen into a pan full of milk, spoiling it.

'Whilst we were all chattering about the outrage, father said:--

'"Don't be uneasy about a mere dynamite explosion; it's like an Irishman's pig, you want it to go one way and it invariably goes in the other."

'And with that he went off to bed again, with the remark about having a quiet night which he has mentioned earlier in this chapter.

'The only other thing which I now recall is, that a detachment of the Buffs in the neighbourhood had found us the only people to entertain them.

'On being told that Edenburn had been blown up, one of them said:--

'"They were the only neighbours we had to talk to, and the brutes would not leave us them as a convenience."'

The Cork correspondent of the _Times_ wrote:--

'Among the general body of the people of Kerry, the news of the attempt to blow up Mr. Hussey's house at Edenburn caused comparatively little excitement. In the County Club at Tralee, the announcement was received with something like a panic. Hitherto, persons who considered themselves in danger were careful to be within their homes before darkness had set in, and when going abroad had a following of police for their protection. Now it is shown that their houses may prove but a sorry shelter, even when a protective force of police is about, and it is no wonder that, with the terrible example furnished in this instance of the daring of those who commit foul crimes, the class against whom the outrages are directed should be filled with fears for the future. The people generally show but small interest in the occurrence.

'The attempt to blow up Mr. Hussey's dwelling is the first of its kind in Kerry, and the third that has been made in Ireland. Within the past few years the districts of Castleisland and Tralee have been distinguished for the number and ferocity of the outrages that were committed there.'

I am also tempted to quote from the 'Leader' in the _Times_ on the outrage:--

'Mr. Hussey has a reputation, not confined to Ireland, as an able, fearless, and vigorous land agent, the best type of a much abused class of men who have endured contumely and faced dangers, by day and night, in order to protect the rights of property intrusted to them.

'It appears that, owing to the disturbed state of the locality, he intended to leave it for the winter; and this probably being known to his enemies, they made an effort to destroy him before he got beyond their reach. He, at all events, seems to have been under the spell of no pleasing illusion as to the supposed tranquillity and the reign of order. On the contrary, he is alleged to have stated that more outrages than ever are committed, and that but for the deterrent force employed by the Government, there would be no living in the country, ... This is the opinion of the majority of Englishmen. They are not all satisfied that the spirit of lawlessness and disorder is rooted out; and they will find only too strong confirmation of their doubts in the reckless violence of the National Press, and in the attempt--marked by novel features of atrocity--to destroy Mr. Hussey's household.'

As for the National Press, it indulged in an ecstasy of enthusiasm over the perpetration, combined with intense disgust "at the miscarriage of justice" of my having escaped without hurt or more than very temporary inconvenience. On my departure, one eloquent writer compared me to 'Macduff taking his babes and bandboxes to England,' a choice simile I have always appreciated.

The _United Ireland_ of December 6, 1884, in a characteristic leaderette, headed 'A very suspicious affair,' observes:--

'We should like to know by what right the newspapers speak of the affair as "a dynamite outrage"? A very curious surmise has been put forward locally, namely, that the house had been stricken by lightning. The shattering of a building by lightning is by no means phenomenal, and the absence of all trace of any terrestrial explosive agency, gives colour to the hypothesis that the destruction was due to meteorological causes.'

With one last quotation I cease to draw upon what may be termed outside contributions, and it is one which gratified me at the time.

It is taken from the _Cork Examiner_ of December 12, 1884:--

'Dear Sir,--Authoritative statements having been made in the Press and elsewhere, that some persons living in Mr. Hussey's immediate neighbourhood must have been the perpetrators of the horrible outrage, or, at least, must have given active and guilty assistance to the principal parties concerned in it; now we, the undersigned, tenants on the property, and living in the closest proximity to Edenburn House and demesne, take this opportunity of declaring in the most public and solemn manner that neither directly nor indirectly, by word or deed, by counsel or approval, had we any participation in the tragic disaster of November 28. The relations hitherto existing between Mr. Hussey and us have ever been of the most friendly character. As a landlord, his dealings with us were such as gave unqualified satisfaction and were marked by justice, impartiality, and very great indulgence. As a neighbour he was extremely kind and obliging, ready whenever applied to, to help us, as far as he was able, in every difficulty or trial in which we might be placed. The bare suspicion, therefore, of being ever so remotely connected with the recent explosion, is, to us, a source of the deepest pain, a suspicion we repudiate with honest indignation. Furthermore, the singular charity, benevolence, and amiability of Mrs. Hussey are long and intimately known to us. We witness almost daily her bountiful treatment of the poor, and tender care of the sick and infirm. Her ears never refuse to listen with sympathy to every tale of distress, nor will she hesitate with her own hands to wash and dress the festering wounds and sores of those who flock to her from all the surrounding parishes. With such knowledge as this, we should indeed be worse than fiends did we raise a hand against the Hussey family, or engage in any enterprise that would necessitate their departure from among us:--

'Richard Fitzgerald. Denis Daly. John Reynolds. Cornelius Daly. William Hogan. Darby Leary. John Mason. Jeremiah Dinan. J. O'connell. John Neligan. Daniel Neill. John Daly. Thomas Connor. Jeremiah Connor. Thomas Shanahen. Michael Moynihar. Widow Aherne. James O'sullivan. John M'elligott. Henry Gentleman.'

As for those really concerned, people tell me that the three implicated in the dynamite business are all dead in America, and if the information is accurate no local person was connected with the explosion, though the miscreants were, of course, housed in the immediate vicinity.

There was one delicious incident.

The local branch of the Land League at Castleisland refused to pay any reward to the dynamiters because we had not been killed, and the leading miscreant actually fired at the treasurer. Eventually the passages to America of all the triumvirate were paid, and they thought it discreet to quit the country, cursing their own stingy executive even more deeply than they blasphemed against the Law and execrated me.

A man from the neighbourhood subsequently wrote to me from London that he could tell me who perpetrated the Edenburn outrage.

I told him to call on me at the Union Club, of which I was then a member, and informed him--his name was O'Brien--I would arrange with the Home Office, in the event of his information being valuable, that he should get a reward.

He replied that his life was in danger in London from another Fenian.

I went to the Home Office and saw Mr. Jenkinson on the subject. He asked me to send O'Brien down to him and he would settle matters, adding that he had reason for believing that the story of threats from another scoundrel was true.

I saw O'Brien and told him to call on Mr. Jenkinson.

He answered that he would go, but he never did, and Mr. Jenkinson subsequently told me that the Land League scented he was going to prove a troublesome informer, so they practically outbid the Government by paying O'Brien a large sum, which was handed to him on the steamer as it was starting for America.

From that time, until I have been recalling the incidents of the explosion for this book, I have never given a thought to the affair and not mentioned it half a dozen times in the twenty years that have elapsed.