Local Mayo history: The infamous Fighting Fitzgerald

PART ONE

By Tom Gillespie

ON July 15, 1939, The Connaught Telegraph republished an account of the character and eccentricities of the famous - or infamous - Fighting Fitzgerald, as he was known, as taken from a book entitled The Irish at Home and Abroad, published in 1856.

It read: As we approach the period of the French Revolution (1789/’99) we find the Irish Government became less at ease and more strident in its measures of conservation. The admonitions received from the loss of America, and the declaration of Irish independence, produced upon it their effects in more ways than one.

They simulated its resolve to maintain the connection of Ireland and England, and they suggested the expediency of relaxing the iron rule by which it had been continued, to which, while it rendered the great mass of the population hostile, failed to propitiate and attach the party to whom the latter had been, as it were, delivered over the persecution and torture.

Some improvement had taken place in the general administration of the laws, but still there existed irregularities and anomalies of an extraordinary character, and the impression the judicial decisions were not always uninfluenced or impartial.

It was no unusual circumstance, therefore, for litigant parties to anticipate the decrees of the tribunals, and taking the law into their own hands, to enter upon and maintain forcible possession of property in dispute, frequently without a semblance of legal claim.

An instance of this kind occurred in the county of Meath, some 70 or 80 years ago (1786 or 1776), the invader holding his unlawful seizure against the sheriff, backed by a string military force, and enduring a siege in the course of which even artillery was employed.

My father, from whom I had the particulars, was among the spectators; who, like those who crowded to the siege of Antwerp some years since, had assembled to witness the operations.

An unfortunate horse-soldier, whose regiments was quartered in the town of Trim, and who had gone tither to enjoy the proceedings, was killed close to my father by a shot from the garrison.

Another and more horrible affair of the same nature took place in the county of Mayo, about the same time.

Mr. George Robert Fitzgerald (1748 to 1786), of whom, under the name ‘Fighting Fitzgerald’, the English public have, through the medium of a collection of reminiscences, published five and twenty years ago, some knowledge, retained by his father, during several years a prisoner in his own house - the Castle of Turlough. Other crimes were subsequently laid to his charge, and proven; with how much legality will be seen.

George Robert Fitzgerald was a gentleman of ancient family. He had travelled, and had been presented at nearly all the courts of Europe.

His biographers claim for him exceeding elegance of manner, as well as the copyright of a most imprudent and impious joke, in order to demonstrate that he was a man of wit and repartee.

In person, Fitzgerald was small, but admirably formed; in mind and disposition that which will suggest itself from the perusal of the following particulars.

He was a most undutiful son; as a friend, nothing is known of him, for he cultivated no friendships, but he attached to himself adherents who would dare death itself in his service; they were, however, of the most atrocious description, and therein support was no doubt well paid.

As an enemy, and in such character chiefly is he known to history, he was implacable. His courage was questionable. He sought many duels; twice with Dick Martin (of Ballynahinch Castle in Connemara, better known as Humanity Dick); but in combat, as in every other circumstance of his life, he was cunning, ruse, unloyal, as subject and citizen, he was bad as could be, and even at variance with the laws and with society.

In Mayo he sought to reign despotically. He was fully aware of the admonition of Beaumarchais: ‘Souvenez-vous, due l’honime q’on sait timide est toujours dans la dependance de tous les firipons’, and he exercised the advantage his audacity gave to him without scruple or limit.

He would bear no brothers near the throne, and was consequently engaged incessantly in broils with a neighbouring gentleman, Mr. Patrick Randall MacDonnell (of Chancery Hall, Ballyvary), like himself, a member of an ancient and highly respectable family, but who yielded not in turbulence, and not much in misconduct, to George Robert Fitzgerald.

Ostensibly reckless and daring, he nevertheless gave strength to the received belief that your bully is even a coward.

In a casual dispute at the gaming table (Daly’s Clubhouse, College Green) with Hamilton Georges of Kilbrew, Co. Meath, better known, and always respected as ‘Hammy George’, he was beaten, kicked, cuffed, knocked down, and had all the furniture of the room and other matters heaped upon him, yet he never challenged his adversary.

In both his ‘affairs’ with Dick Martin he displayed insolence certainly, but accompanied by evidence of craft and treachery, incompatible with the feelings of a brave man. In commencing the first of them he reckoned upon an easy conquest from his skill as a swordsman, but scarcely had their weapons crossed when he became aware that he had to do with un adversarie da la premiere force, but one also trop enterprenant.

Thus informed, Fitzgerald put into action all his capabilities. They fought with swords across a channel of gutter in the back-yard of Castlebar, where an immense crowd had assembled to witness the engagement, most of them, of course, ‘Mayo men’.

Before the combatants had taken their places, Fitzgerald called to the spectators: ‘Here goes! Mayo against Galway! The Mayo cock against the Galway one!’ This produced a cheer from the bystanders; but it failed, as every other possible means would, to intimidate the gallant Dick. They fought for 20 minutes; Martin fell dangerously wounded.

Some time afterwards they met by chance at the door of Dungaree, the bookseller, whose house stood at the corner of Palace Street and Dame Street, Dublin. After a word or two they drew, and exchanged several passes; but even at that period, when gaming, horse racing, cock fighting and hard drinking, clanship, constitutional insolence, and ill-manners produced daily and nightly quarrels, duelling in the streets was not permitted.

The police were called for. Before they arrived, however, Martin had several times bent his sword on Fitzgerald’s body, which was encased in steel-chain armour.

At length Martin rushed upon him and knocked him down, or he fell by accident from the steps on his face, and Dick inflicted upon him, while prostrate, a wound which would, by the rules of the modern ‘ring’, be deemed foul, for it was ‘below the waistband’, Dick admitted that qualification afterwards but excused himself by saying, “It was the only vulnerable point he could find about him.”

NEXT WEEK: George Robert Fitzgerald imprisoned his father for several years.