Patt becomes an MP!
Catholics were given the vote at the end of the eighteenth century. While they were allowed to vote for the House of Commons, they couldn't sit in the Commons, nor were they allowed to fill a wide range of important positions, such as judges.
Oh, when we say they can't sit, they can, but they would need to renounce the pope and their belief in transubstantiation, whatever the heck that is. You can google it if you like, we can't be bothered with all that bizarrely weird willy waffle. But the point is, early nineteenth century Irish catholics did, and even if they weren't great believers it was a matter of principle.
In 1823, a bloke called Daniel O'Connell started a campaign for "emancipation", in practical terms, the right for catholics to sit in the House of Commons without all that renunciation hoo haa.
In 1826, a supporter was elected as O'Connell (and several others, including a bloke called Richard Lalor Sheils, who doesn't appear to be any sort of a relative, at least not close, but who might have supplied Patt's youngest son's name), organised the catholics to vote as a united front and refuse to vote in the way insisted on by their protestant landlords. This bloke romped in. Of course, he refused to take the oath, and consequently couldn't sit.
In 1828, O'Connell stood for election in County Clare in Ireland and absolutely wee'd it in. Of course, like the other bloke, O'Connell couldn't actually take his seat in the House of Commons. Then, blow me down, he did it again in 1829.
Patt Lalor, as a great believer in Irish catholic rights, was watching these developments keenly.
As it happens, public opinion throughout Britain was turning in favour of catholic "emancipation". Indeed, every winning member of the Commons after 1807, except one, swore to achieve emancipation. Over the next 20 years, several attempts were made to do just that. The Commons tended to pass them, and the Lords to reject them.
But O'Connell's work in the mid to late-1820s was creating a sense of fear in the minds of many of the Lords. The build-up of demands in Ireland, and the increasing support of the public in the rest of Britain, caused concern at the perceived risk of a religious civil war, especially in Ireland. Of course, the Lords, especially the Tory Lords, were victims of their own prejudices, as they were always prepared to believe the worst of the Irish in general, and the catholics in particular. Yar poot, you bigots.
Oh, when we say they can't sit, they can, but they would need to renounce the pope and their belief in transubstantiation, whatever the heck that is. You can google it if you like, we can't be bothered with all that bizarrely weird willy waffle. But the point is, early nineteenth century Irish catholics did, and even if they weren't great believers it was a matter of principle.
In 1823, a bloke called Daniel O'Connell started a campaign for "emancipation", in practical terms, the right for catholics to sit in the House of Commons without all that renunciation hoo haa.
In 1826, a supporter was elected as O'Connell (and several others, including a bloke called Richard Lalor Sheils, who doesn't appear to be any sort of a relative, at least not close, but who might have supplied Patt's youngest son's name), organised the catholics to vote as a united front and refuse to vote in the way insisted on by their protestant landlords. This bloke romped in. Of course, he refused to take the oath, and consequently couldn't sit.
In 1828, O'Connell stood for election in County Clare in Ireland and absolutely wee'd it in. Of course, like the other bloke, O'Connell couldn't actually take his seat in the House of Commons. Then, blow me down, he did it again in 1829.
Patt Lalor, as a great believer in Irish catholic rights, was watching these developments keenly.
As it happens, public opinion throughout Britain was turning in favour of catholic "emancipation". Indeed, every winning member of the Commons after 1807, except one, swore to achieve emancipation. Over the next 20 years, several attempts were made to do just that. The Commons tended to pass them, and the Lords to reject them.
But O'Connell's work in the mid to late-1820s was creating a sense of fear in the minds of many of the Lords. The build-up of demands in Ireland, and the increasing support of the public in the rest of Britain, caused concern at the perceived risk of a religious civil war, especially in Ireland. Of course, the Lords, especially the Tory Lords, were victims of their own prejudices, as they were always prepared to believe the worst of the Irish in general, and the catholics in particular. Yar poot, you bigots.
Oddly, the only gunfire in England in connection with catholic emancipation, was a duel between two blokes who strongly opposed the emancipation, the Duke of Wellington (yes, the one who the British reckon won the Battle of Waterloo, finally finishing Napoleon off, although many Europeans reckon it was the Prussian von Blücher, despite the fact this hugely fat bloke fell off his horse during a battle the day before, and afterwards reckoned he was pregnant to an elephant, because if he hadn't turned up at around 4 in the arvo, it's almost certain Wellington would have lost, despite Napoleon's apparent haemorrhoid problems during the battle) and some other anti-catholic bigot (Wellington was, of course, what was called Anglo-Irish, from a propertied Irish protestant family, and was also an anti-catholic bigot) called the Earl of Winchilsea (yes, people from Winchelsea, that's how his title was spelled). Wellington felt obliged to support emancipation to avoid a religious civil war in Ireland he believed, probably wrongly, would occur without emancipation. Concurrently, he supported the establishment of King's College London, as an Anglican opposition to the secular University of London. Winchilsea accused him of sneakily trying to use his support to hide his "insidious designs for the infringement of our liberties and the introduction of popery into every department of state." Angry correspondence ensued, resulting in the duel, despite the fact duelling was illegal in Britain and Wellington was, at the time, prime minister. Neither man was injured. It is said they didn't both miss when they fired, rather they purposefully fired not to hit. Mind you, they couldn't admit the great Wellington could miss a shot at a bloke within range of his pistol.
So, in 1828, a thing called the Sacramental Test Act enabled non-Anglicans to fill a range of positions including judges. Then in 1829, the Lords, against the wishes and in spite of the tears of the king ("Georgie Porgie Puddin' and Pie", George IV), reluctantly, passed the Roman Catholic Relief Act. Tears! Good grief, as if this was the worst thing happening in his horrible little kingdom.
Anyway, this Act removed many (but not all) of the remaining restrictions on catholics throughout Britain, including Ireland. However, as one of the Wellingtonian trade-offs to get emancipation through the Lords, the financial requirement to vote was doubled from property worth £2 to £4. We know this doesn't look like much, but in modern terms £4 was worth ... .
Well, it's actually surprisingly and extraordinarily difficult to work out modern values. The best we can do is that it is somewhere in the range of £280 to £14,500 (around $A575 to $A27,000). We know that's a heck of a range, and can only say that in practical terms it's probably somewhere in the middle.
Even at the upper end, in modern Australian terms it doesn't really seem like all that much. However, we have to recall that not only were salaries at a level a snake could easily slide over, as unions had not been able to gain the increases we're more used to these days, but most Australians' property wealth is in the form of our houses, and house or other property ownership was almost non-existent for the greater proportion of the British population.
So £2 was far out of the reach of most people, but £4 even much more so. But not only that, all those people who had between £2 and £4 of property were disenfranchised, in other words, they lost their vote. To describe Britain's poor as very seriously peeved would be a significant understatement.
The Lords were the problem, and this property value increase was a Wellingtonian trade-off to get the enfranchisement passed before he was chucked out as prime minister. Most of these Lords were there because of who their father was, rather than any personal talent or election, and some were anglican bishops, not known at the time for any degree of radicalism.
The majority of the Lords were almost always Tories, mostly extremely conservative, with some Whigs, whose beliefs varied somewhat, but could perhaps be described as being less conservative. But there was another way of becoming a Lord apart from being born the eldest son of another Lord, or appointed an anglican bishop. This was to be appointed by the king to increase the numbers from one side or the other, usually the Tories.
The king, in fact, was intensely pro-Tory, but at this time Earl Grey, a Whig, managed to become the first Whig prime minister for absolute yonks. Grey, yes, he of tea fame, pressured the king mightily to increase the number of Whig appointees. Extremely reluctantly, Georgie Porgie had to increase the number of Whig lords so the property requirement could be reduced again. But not until after the first election under the new "emancipation" rules.
Patt Lalor stood in the 1832 election and won. Clearly, his leaseholding, which could be counted as property for the voting right, was clearly a good size, indicating he was no "ordinary" Irish peasant. Nonetheless, that wouldn't stop the English nobs treating him like one, we suspect.
Anyway, this Act removed many (but not all) of the remaining restrictions on catholics throughout Britain, including Ireland. However, as one of the Wellingtonian trade-offs to get emancipation through the Lords, the financial requirement to vote was doubled from property worth £2 to £4. We know this doesn't look like much, but in modern terms £4 was worth ... .
Well, it's actually surprisingly and extraordinarily difficult to work out modern values. The best we can do is that it is somewhere in the range of £280 to £14,500 (around $A575 to $A27,000). We know that's a heck of a range, and can only say that in practical terms it's probably somewhere in the middle.
Even at the upper end, in modern Australian terms it doesn't really seem like all that much. However, we have to recall that not only were salaries at a level a snake could easily slide over, as unions had not been able to gain the increases we're more used to these days, but most Australians' property wealth is in the form of our houses, and house or other property ownership was almost non-existent for the greater proportion of the British population.
So £2 was far out of the reach of most people, but £4 even much more so. But not only that, all those people who had between £2 and £4 of property were disenfranchised, in other words, they lost their vote. To describe Britain's poor as very seriously peeved would be a significant understatement.
The Lords were the problem, and this property value increase was a Wellingtonian trade-off to get the enfranchisement passed before he was chucked out as prime minister. Most of these Lords were there because of who their father was, rather than any personal talent or election, and some were anglican bishops, not known at the time for any degree of radicalism.
The majority of the Lords were almost always Tories, mostly extremely conservative, with some Whigs, whose beliefs varied somewhat, but could perhaps be described as being less conservative. But there was another way of becoming a Lord apart from being born the eldest son of another Lord, or appointed an anglican bishop. This was to be appointed by the king to increase the numbers from one side or the other, usually the Tories.
The king, in fact, was intensely pro-Tory, but at this time Earl Grey, a Whig, managed to become the first Whig prime minister for absolute yonks. Grey, yes, he of tea fame, pressured the king mightily to increase the number of Whig appointees. Extremely reluctantly, Georgie Porgie had to increase the number of Whig lords so the property requirement could be reduced again. But not until after the first election under the new "emancipation" rules.
Patt Lalor stood in the 1832 election and won. Clearly, his leaseholding, which could be counted as property for the voting right, was clearly a good size, indicating he was no "ordinary" Irish peasant. Nonetheless, that wouldn't stop the English nobs treating him like one, we suspect.
This is the House of Commons after the 1832 election. Can you spot Patt? No? Oh, come on, you're not trying. He's the one, or is he, or perhaps he's, oh, no, he's that one. The bozos at the front are the major players of the time, hogging all the limelight, as is the habit of mainplaying politicians.
Patt was preceded in his seat by a Whig baronet (that's kind of like an inherited knighthood, with right to be called "Sir"). After being narrowly beaten in 1835, he was unfortunately succeeded by a Tory honourable (apparently because he was the heir to a viscount, although why that makes him more honourable than anyone else can be your guess - oh, and the bugger's father told his tenants to vote for him or they would be evicted, and sadly, unlike many others elsewhere, they did).
At the time of his election Patt was, of course, a supporter of Daniel O'Connell's, essentially by non-violent means seeking an Ireland with a degree of self-rule within the kingdom. In parliament, Patt was a defender of the rights of the Irish in particular, and the poor and hard-done-by in general.
Not that Patt had much opportunity to do anything substantive, except draw the members' attention to the outrageously different way the Irish were treated in comparison to other citizens. Although the differences in the treatment of the Irish were not quite as different to the treatment of the poor in the rest of Britain. However, he was quite right about the outrageousness of the treatment.
Not that Patt had much opportunity to do anything substantive, except draw the members' attention to the outrageously different way the Irish were treated in comparison to other citizens. Although the differences in the treatment of the Irish were not quite as different to the treatment of the poor in the rest of Britain. However, he was quite right about the outrageousness of the treatment.
The above image is a much later cartoon about O'Connell and his supporters from the London Punch magazine of August 1843. It's not only an expression of English contempt for O'Connell, but for all Irish. It treats O'Connell's supporters as though they're ignorant lummoxes. This would, of course, have included Patt, who would already have directly experienced the supercilious attitude of the English ruling class at Westminster.
Just a couple of cartoons to show that English upper class attitudes not only didn't change after 1832, but seemed to get worse. A further example, the Cambridge University historian Charles Kingsley, who almost certainly regarded himself of superior intellect, proved otherwise when he wrote to his wife from Ireland in 1860: “I am haunted by the human chimpanzees I saw along that hundred miles of horrible country…to see white chimpanzees is dreadful; if they were black one would not see it so much, but their skins, except where tanned by exposure, are as white as ours.”
From 1845-52, following the outbreak of what the world generally knows as the potato blight, as though the potato disease was the greatest cause of what followed, over a million Irish died of starvation and various related diseases, while enjoying the wonderful "benefits" of rule from the highly civilised folk in London, who did bugger all to help.
The death rate was increased by the forced eviction of 500,000 or so men, women, and children, lots and lots of already starving children, because they couldn't pay their rents. Just the English showing their usual levels of humane understanding. After all, Ireland had too many people, they claimed, and a cull was required. A bit like kangaroos. Or, as some people love kangaroos, perhaps more like rabbits.
Of course, a million and a half more left Ireland, many suffering and dying onboard “coffin ships”, shipped even worse than we ship live animal exports to the Middle East. Peter Lalor and his brother Richard were two of these refugees, although their condition was better than most of the others. And, of course, although there's no evidence whatever to indicate this, it's possible they were avoiding arrest, although it was quite a while after 1848 when they travelled. We've heard they used Caroline Chisholm's emigration program to help pay their way. What a wonder she was, and what an awful way she ended.
And whatever the reason for and financial means Peter and Richard used to travel, they were certainly better off than the poor buggers who were said to have been hunted down like game animals and forced onto ships, to be literally sold to plantations in Barbados. We hope that story's wrong, but we fear not.
From 1845-52, following the outbreak of what the world generally knows as the potato blight, as though the potato disease was the greatest cause of what followed, over a million Irish died of starvation and various related diseases, while enjoying the wonderful "benefits" of rule from the highly civilised folk in London, who did bugger all to help.
The death rate was increased by the forced eviction of 500,000 or so men, women, and children, lots and lots of already starving children, because they couldn't pay their rents. Just the English showing their usual levels of humane understanding. After all, Ireland had too many people, they claimed, and a cull was required. A bit like kangaroos. Or, as some people love kangaroos, perhaps more like rabbits.
Of course, a million and a half more left Ireland, many suffering and dying onboard “coffin ships”, shipped even worse than we ship live animal exports to the Middle East. Peter Lalor and his brother Richard were two of these refugees, although their condition was better than most of the others. And, of course, although there's no evidence whatever to indicate this, it's possible they were avoiding arrest, although it was quite a while after 1848 when they travelled. We've heard they used Caroline Chisholm's emigration program to help pay their way. What a wonder she was, and what an awful way she ended.
And whatever the reason for and financial means Peter and Richard used to travel, they were certainly better off than the poor buggers who were said to have been hunted down like game animals and forced onto ships, to be literally sold to plantations in Barbados. We hope that story's wrong, but we fear not.