Notes
1. All quotations in this chapter from Blenheim Archives: Book of Press Cuttings.
Chapter Nineteen
THE FAMINE FUND
* * *
Thirty-three years earlier Ireland had been in the grip of a terrifying famine which inflicted the most horrifying consequences on an already impoverished country. The fertile land contained a population trapped in poverty, for whom potatoes were the staple of their diet, and without which they starved. When the potato crops were ravaged in the 1840s by a fatal fungal disease, ‘phytophthora infestens’, a sentence of death was passed on those struggling in the wretched economy of the west and south west, and there was a great deal of suffering elsewhere. Cholera, typhus and dysentery were followed by starvation in the bitterly cold winter of 1846-7. Many parts of Ireland became a landscape of dying villages, hovels inhabited by poor wretches huddled in filthy straw who were too weak to bury their dead and, worse still, forced to watch the corpses of their loved ones devoured by dogs and rats.
Attempts by the British government to relieve this appalling tragedy were inadequate and incompetent. In the name of humanity, the greatest of help was required, but the aid was not forthcoming. The government in England seemed unable, either by inclination or by design, to take any effective action. Its attitudes were formed by a different agenda, its vision blurred by distance and unfamiliarity. It virtually stood by and did little that was effective; the view seemed to be that if the people were helped too much they would not help themselves. The Gregory Clause in the Poor Law ruled that no man could receive relief if he owned quarter of an acre of land or more. The government simply failed to grasp the magnitude of the problem and continued to allow huge exports of corn: throughout the famine Ireland was actually a net exporter of food! So, because of this, the Irish citizens themselves starved, often to death.
The results were far-reaching. The shocking statistics indicate a loss of population, from death or emigration, ranging from a cautious 2,500,000 to a possible 4,500,000, in a country comprising, according to the census of 1841, just over 8,000,000 people. The neglect by Britain is emphasised by the marked contrast in international awareness, reflected even today in the many commemorative monuments throughout the world. Toronto, where the population more than doubled as a result of Irish emigration, has a particularly moving one. An emotionally charged sculpture of five separate figures portrays the distress, the desperate emigration and the escape of the fortunate few: ‘Apprehensive Man’, ‘Orphan Boy’, ‘Woman on Ground’, ‘Pregnant Woman’ and, finally, ‘Jubilant Man’.
Not surprisingly, therefore, when in 1879 the potato crop failed again and the spectre of famine reasserted itself in the regions which had previously suffered the most extreme deprivation, the Irish people trembled. Was there to be the same inadequacy of government help, and the same starvation and death? The stories of hardship had not even had time to pass into legend and were still fresh in the minds of the Irish poor.
This time, though, a major and vital difference was the Vicereine, Frances. She saw the danger instantly and, in contrast to the inefficiency with which the earlier situation had been met, she took immediate and effective action. This potential catastrophe provided the very occasion that allowed Frances to reveal her worth on an international level. Trapped within the Victorian limitations imposed on womanhood, especially within the aristocracy, it had only been at a family and local level that she had been able to demonstrate her compassion and humanity, her care for the vulnerable and her instinctive warmth. Now, with the weight of her constitutional power and influence behind her, these qualities were revealed on a large scale. On the wider stage her good judgement and insight, together with her energy and administrative and organisational skills, were displayed impressively and dramatically, revealing a hitherto unsuspected character.
It was an outstanding example of that best Victorian precept, that wealth was a responsibility, not a privilege. She had grown up with the precedent of her father, with his sense of honour and social responsibility, and of her mother, practised in the traditions of charity which she herself had inherited. Through her genuineness and warmth as Vicereine, Frances had already attracted the respect and affection of ordinary people, regardless of religion or politics. She now proved splendidly equipped to meet the famine hardship. Independently of the official government relief scheme, she set about remedying the dreadful situation and launched a famine relief campaign. She concentrated on two things: firstly, the collection of funds to finance what turned out to be a substantial operation; secondly the simple but effective distribution of the aid to where it was most desperately needed.
Frances was not normally a person to seek publicity, yet she had the acumen and insight to realise how important publicity was. So, on 16 December 1879, in a powerful letter to the editor of The Times, who was a close friend, she precisely and forcefully set out her aims, making clear how the tragic spectre of famine again threatened the west of Ireland. She stated her intention of establishing a famine fund and asked for support. She proposed to open an account in the Bank of Ireland in the name of her fund, which would receive the donations. Although not practised in the art of public communication, she proved articulate and lucid, beginning her letter with three clear points:
In doing this I must explain: firstly the reasons that impel me to this step; secondly the channels through which I would propose the money should be spent; and thirdly the uses to which it should be applied.
She outlined her reasons succinctly, arguing that in spite of government initiatives and the attempts by landlords to stand by their people, there were parts of western Ireland which were sinking into crisis. Although the present distress was not yet comparable to that of the 1840s, there was, nevertheless, ‘no doubt that in parts of Kerry, Galway, Sligo, Mayo, Roscommon, Donegal and the south of the county of Cork – in fact in most of the western districts of Ireland – there will be extreme misery and suffering among the poor, owing to want of employment, loss of turf, loss of cattle, and failure of potatoes unless a vigorous effort of private charity is got up to supplement the ordinary system of Poor Law Relief’.
She proposed organising a committee of ‘influential and philanthropic persons to meet in Dublin once a week, or more if necessary, to receive applications from the distressed localities and to decide on the various claims for assistance. It will not be difficult to form local committees and agencies to work in conjunction with the Dublin committee and superintend the distribution of the money.’
In this she showed shrewd judgement and no little bravery. Although birth and class gave her a Tory background, where tradition and status quo were inherent, she bypassed the established Poor Law committees which had been so ineffective in the previous crisis and set up her own, thus ensuring that decisions were made by informed local people who were able to identify need accurately.
She indicated, in practical vein, that
as regards the expenditure of the fund it should be spent on food, fuel, clothing, especially for the aged and weak, and in small sums to keep the families of the able-bodied in temporary distress out of the workhouse.
She anticipated further questions by adding:
I should like to spend some of the money, while carefully guarding against proselytism of any kind, to give grants to schools to provide a meal of bread and potatoes, and, if possible, a little clothing where found necessary, for the little children attending them.1
Two further measures confirm the extent of the thought she had put into this project. The bank account was named ‘The Duchess of Marlborough’s Relief Fund’, lending it strength and status and implying integrity, as well as safeguarding it from abuse and exploitation. Most importantly, she arranged with great common sense for new, high quality, Scottish potato seed to be provided so there would be seed for the next season; often in famine, those suffering had been forced to eat seed normally kept for the next season, thereby extending the consequences of the
present disaster. This initiative gained her much praise later. A press report commented:
The Duchess of Marlborough’s committee was second to none in the actual work of distributing seeds and potatoes for planting the cotters’ denuded plots.
She emphasised the responsibilities and difficulties of the whole task, but stressed her own commitment. She undertook to see that all monies contributed would be judiciously expended and faithfully dispensed and accounted for without regard to creed or politics.
Her letter was very logical: the need for action was justified at the beginning, the extent of suffering was outlined with care and feeling but without sentimentality, and the intended method of fundraising was kept simple but effective.
The Times editor responded to her letter with one of his own, giving his whole-hearted support and urging the public to respond and not be misled by those who, for their own political purposes, might ignore or exaggerate the misery of the poor. Nor should they fail to realise that the Duchess’s Fund would go straight to the heart of the problem, without ‘what is always most mischievous and is too commonly suspected in Ireland, anything like favouritism to any class, creed or locality’.
Significant here was Frances’ own background. She bridged the traditional Catholic-Nationalist/Protestant-Loyalist divide in Ireland. Her father’s family was Scottish/Irish Protestant based in Londonderry (Mount Stewart), but her sister Alexandrina had become a Catholic and married the Earl of Portarlington, a leading Catholic member of the Irish nobility. Her awareness of the danger of any charge of proselytism was vital and her success at avoiding any trace of it was fundamental to the success of her campaign.
The response to her appeal was instant and effective. Throughout the following weeks lists of contributors were published, together with the amount given and the explanation of how it was distributed. It is obvious from these that money was flowing into the Fund from all over the world. In the short space of only four months it realised a total of £132,000, equivalent to almost £10,000,000 in today’s values. True to her word, the Duchess withheld nothing from the public scrutiny. The Reports of the Relief Fund are still carefully preserved in the archives at Blenheim Palace, along with contemporary accounts and comments.
As one would expect, there was a warm reaction from the districts close to Blenheim, the parish church at Woodstock giving the Sunday collection, £1 3s. 2d., and the parochial school at Bladon collecting £1 13s. 6d. But the whole of the British Isles responded, the Lord Mayor of London’s appeal generating more than £10,000. There is no doubt about the spontaneity and the extent of the response.
The skill and power of her campaign produced contributions on a worldwide basis. There was an immediate response from neighbouring France, where the Irish had always been held in high regard. Through the medium of two missionaries, Reverend and Mrs Twing, the Indians of Minnesota (only one step removed from want themselves, living as they did on boiled corn) gave all the money they had. Donations were forwarded from Canada via both Protestant and Catholic clergy. In India, collections were made among British residents but also among the Indians themselves. Hong Kong sent more than £4,000 and Penang £1,600; Cape Town raised £750 and the Falkland Islands £142. There seemed hardly a corner of the British Empire, or the world at large, that the Duchess did not reach with her appeal; the response was warm and generous.
There are some charming touches in the extensive lists of donors. In one report a letter was received from a young boy in Kent:
Madam, I send you a sovereign for those poor, starving people in Ireland. It is my pocket-money, and my brother’s, and Violet’s, and I hope it will give two or three of them a good tuck-out.
From George Francis Pittar
PS I think it would be best to buy Bath buns, but Vyvyan thinks chocolate.
A press report of 15 April 1880 revealed that just as the Duchess’s Relief Fund executive committee was about to hold its meeting at Dublin Castle, two small boys arrived, half-naked, travel-stained and barefoot, to say they had walked over 200 miles to ask the Duchess for the sum of £2, which was the deficit on their father’s rent on his land in the parish of Caharagh, near Skibbereen. They were brought straight into Her Grace’s presence to tell their simple and pathetic story:
Their father had a bit of land but the times were so bad that he could not pay the rent and he now owed eight pounds. He had managed to raise six with the help of friends and neighbours, but he was desperate for the remaining two pounds.
The two boys asked ‘the good Duchess’ for this sum. The journey had taken them three weeks, begging their food and lodging on the way and asking directions from town to town.
Moved by the appearance of the two boys and impressed by the way they had faced up to their responsibility, and by the trust they had placed in her, Frances immediately promised them the £2, commending them for their courage and persistence as well as their sense of family responsibility. One wonders how they had learned of the Famine Fund, considering the poor communications of those times; it demonstrates how quickly and effectively the campaign had penetrated even the most remote parts of Ireland. The boys hardly knew what to say, struck speechless at the success of their undertaking, but they managed the traditional ‘God bless your ladyship’. She gave instructions they should be fitted with new tweed suits. When they had had a substantial dinner, their pockets were filled with silver by the ladies of the committee. Next morning they took their first ride on a train, thus covering their journey home in six hours, a contrast to their outward struggle. On that same day an order for £2 was sent from the committee to their father via the local parish priest.
A powerful illustration appeared in the press at the time showing Frances, formidable and determined, seated at the head of her committee in Dublin Castle. The strength of support she generated socially and politically is apparent in the names of the people seated at that table. Despite its size, the expenses of the appeal were minimal, largely because Frances shrewdly galvanized the members of her own family and her friends to work voluntarily. Among the 85 members of the executive and general committees, and the honorary secretaries, all of whom were active workers, are daughter Annie (the Duchess of Roxburghe), adopted daughter Clementina (the Marchioness of Camden), daughter-in-law Bertha (the Marchioness of Blandford), sister-in-law (the Marchioness of Londonderry), eldest daughter (Lady Cornelia Guest), another daughter (Lady Rosamund Fellowes), daughter-in-law Jennie (Lady Randolph Churchill), as well as many distinguished Irish titles and family names. Randolph was one of the honorary secretaries of the fund, a role which was to prove a significant experience for him later.
Unfortunately, however, in the General Election of 1880 Disraeli and the Tories fell from power and, since the Viceroy was appointed by the party in power, the Marlboroughs were recalled from Ireland. Frances finalised her efforts and self-imposed responsibilities with further letters to the press, typically warm and caring, thanking all concerned and publishing her accounts in the professional manner now expected of her. She ensured that a committee was established so the Fund could continue and be conscientiously wound up only when appropriate.
On 21 April 1880, Frances’ final letter to the press from Vice-Regal Lodge bade farewell to those whose distress had concerned her over the last four months and expressed her gratitude at the way people of all ages, classes and countries had responded so immediately and so warmly. She made clear the present position of the Famine Fund:
I have received a sum of about £112,000 so far, and I have thus been enabled, with the assistance of my committee, to supply food, clothes and potato-seed to those districts which were most in want. There remains an unexpended balance of nearly £15,000, which I propose to leave in good hands to be appropriated among the most destitute until the next harvest, which will, I trust with God’s providence, bring you plenty and prosperity.2
The final total raised came to just over £130,000. Frances promised her prayers for their future plenty and prosperity
and asked for their kindly remembrance. She ensured that this, her final letter, was printed in Gaelic as well as English; one of the foundations of her success had been the insistence that her relief was for the whole needy community, irrespective of political or religious affiliation.
And so Frances, at the age of almost 60, finally reached the highest levels of personal achievement and fulfilment. The charitable work she had undertaken, not just within the family, as previously, but on a far larger scale, brought her gratitude and recognition nationally and internationally. As Duchess of Marlborough she had enacted the formal Vice-Regal duties, official and social, with poise and confidence. But to be moved personally by the plight of the vulnerable to such an extent that she would break with convention and demonstrate such an electrifying capacity to act swiftly and decisively, is what made Frances special.
On Wednesday 28 April 1880 Frances and her husband took formal leave of Ireland, surrounded by all the ceremony due to the Queen’s representative: eight regiments of troops lined the route to the station; their carriage had a Field Officers’ escort; an artillery salute was fired; five different bands played, and there were two guards of honour. Yet, much dearer to Frances’ heart, surely, was the thanks given her by the Irish people for alleviating their distress. The Daily News commented that in nearly every farewell address special allusion was made to the Duchess and her efforts for the relief of the famine.
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