Rosalie Hart Priour Autobiography "Adventures of a Family of Emigrants" with notes and commentary by historian Frank Wagner (indicated in green).
Chapter 4 Two years from that time, I was born [August 1, 1825] in Ballymoney, Wexford County, and baptized Bridget in honor of my father's only sister. When I was confirmed, the Bishop gave me the name of Rosalie and requested that I should be called by that name, and in this country I am known by no other. I had one brother older than myself who died before I was born, and seven sisters two of whom I do not remember. I can recollect the other five. They were all strong, healthy children and very handsome, but I was unlike them, always delicate. Yet God called them home, and I was the only one left out of a family of nine children.
When I was about nine months old, my father and mother went on a visit to my grandmother in Howth. They went by water to Dublin, andfrom thence by stage. My father's aunt kept the mail stand [Howth Inn], and as they paid her a visit before proceeding on their journey, the news of my father's visit to his mother soon spread. And when we were about half a mile from my grandmother's, a crowd of citizens met us, and, unharnessing the horses, dragged the coach to my grandmother's door.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Who was "my aunt" referred to? Clearly not Bridget Hart, Tom's sister, hence the aunt must have been a sister of Rosalie's grandfather. Her identity is not documented.
"Mail stand" might refer to the mail stand at Howth harbor, departure point for mail to England. If her aunt had that job, she had a very desirable office because virtually all mail from Ireland went through Howth Harbor. It is much more likely she held the Howth Inn mail stand, on the road between Howth and Dublin.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - When we arrived at our destination, they would not permit my mother to alight, but carried her in triumph into the house. My grandmother was delighted to see us, and as I was named for my aunt, and the oldest of her grandchildren, she had the deed of the house that Lord an Lady Howth had presented to her at the time of my granfather's death, recorded in my name. We remained only a few days, as my father was compelled to return, when the term for which he received leave of absence had expired.
When I was about three years old, the government appointed my father to the lighthouse of Cork, and, as they had in addition to his salary, to furnish him a house, fire and candlelight -- also a servant -- we received the castle at the foot of the hill, on which the lighthouse is built, as our residence while we remained there2.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - No record of Hart's lighthouse appointment in Cork remains from 1828-1829. The city of Cork was often called Kingston by the British. "Castle" means a stone house, in contrast to one constructed of other materials. From context, there appears to be no question that the lighthouse was at Roche's Point at the mouth of Cork Harbor. Nearby is Trabolgan, the mansion of the Roche family. (Private communication, Patrick Holohan, Cork Historical and Archaeological Society, 31 March. 1985) The Roche family is connected to Diana, Princess of Wales, her grandfather was Lord Fermoy.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It was one of the most picturesque situations that could be found anywhere, with the bay extending as far as the eye could reach in one direction, and the farms with their fields of waving grain in the other. At a short distance from the castle was a spring. I remember going with mother one day on a visit to a country gentleman's, I do not exactly remember his name, but think it was Roach. On our way. we stopped at the spring. Young as I was, I thought no words could possibly describe the loveliness of this scene. The spring on the side of the road had a small springhouse built over it, the dipper chained to a post -- benches placed around -- everything so cool and pleasant, seemed to invite the weary traveler to repose and rest from toil.
Not far off the picturesque and lovely residence of Mr. Roach was. It was embowered in trees and shrubbery; [it] was enough to delight the eye of an artist, and child though I was, fifty-six years ago, still the scene made such an impression on my mind that as I write, everything appears as distinct -- and as fresh as if seen only an hour since.
We had lived at the lighthouse about a year, when one of the most horrible incidents occurred that I have ever witnessed. There were only two officers in the station, one of them was to go with so many hours each day, and when his time had expired, the other took his place. One day, during my father's watch, he saw a vessel drifting about in the offing, and as it was his duty to board every vessel that came into the harbor, he ordered the men to man the boats and go on board. He was the first on her deck.
Oh! God, what sight met his eyes! There on the deck with their hands and feet bound with ropes lay the crew of the vessel dead, and had been so for so long a time that they were perfectly green, and the stench was insupportable. At that time, the kidnappers, as they were called, were at their worst, and there was not a day passed but more or less people were killed by them. They had regular contracts made with the medical colleges in England to furnish corpses for dissection. Their mode of proce dure was to go up to a person and put a sticking plaster over his mouth, so that he could not give an alarm, and no one was safe from their attacks.
In the present instant, the vessel in question was chartered in Dublin to carry a load of dead people to some town in England. They were preserved in rum. The barrels containing the dead bodies were marked water. The captain, when he left port, expected to arrive at his destination in two days, and only took water for that length of time, but according to the old saying, "Man proposes and God disposes" he was disappointed. The weather was so calm the vessel could make no headway and in four or five days the crew suffered so much for water, the ship's carpenter took his adze and broke the end out of one of the barrels marked water, when oh! horror! in place of water, he saw his uncle and his cousin, whom he had left in good health in Dublin only a few days before. Their dead bodies were preserved in rum in the barrel he had opened3.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Resurrectionist" tales were as commonplace in Ireland in the 19th Century, as they were, with more basis in fact, in Scotland. Records are lackinq to attest to this account, though it would appear to be authentic. County Cork is located on the west of the island, while the ship presumably came from Dublin in the east; thus the ship beat against prevailing winds and currents to arrive there. It may have been an event at Ballymoney recounted to Rosalie as a child, and her remembrance misplaced it in time. Ballymoney is along the east coast, immediately south of Dublin and certainly on the commercial pathway to the ports of western Britain.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - As soon as the Captain found that the crew had discovered his crime, he told them that unless they would consent to be tied and whipped, he would have every man of them hung from the masthead on arriving in port for mutiny. Thinking to save their lives, they consented. When all were bound and helpless, he took an ax and split their heads open. I do not know how it happened, but the carpenter was only wounded, and when the Captain went to sleep, with the aid of the two little boys whom the Captain spared he was hid under some lumber piled on the deck.
And the day of the trial, he was able to appear and testify against the Captain as the two boys were so young and had by their care saved the life of the carpenter, the law could do nothing to them, but the Captain was condemned to pass the rest of his miserable existence in a dungeon, with nothing to mitigate his sufferings except the company of his two sons, for a few hours every day. The public thought he should have been hung, but in any opinion, the punishment he received was far worse than death, shut out from light of day, with no light except a candle, and alone with his guilty conscience I cannot conceive any fate more dreadful.
For weeks every time my father would sit down to the table, he would imagine that he still got the smell of the corpses he had seen on that vessel, and would be compelled to leave the table before taking more than a cup of chocolate, and a piece of bread and butter. When he would try to sleep, as soon as his eyes were closed, he would dream that he was on board vessels and in the presence of the dead; yet he was no coward, he never shrank from doing his duty, nor could personal danger daunt him, but the sufferings of others always made a great impression on his mind.
Chapter 3 - Chapter 5