Clara and Tullamore, Memoirs of Robert Goodbody

Robert Goodbody was born at Mountmellick in 1781, the son of Mark and Elizabeth (nee Pim), both Quakers and merchants. He settled in Clara on 17th October 1825 where he took over the Brosna mills, formed the Brosna mills company which later became Robert Goodbody and Co., Robert Goodbody and Sons and eventually M. J. and L. Goodbody.

The original of the memoir or account is held at the Library of the Society of Friends, Dublin. In her Guide to Irish Quaker Records, 1654-1860, (Dublin, 1967), Olive Goodbody wrote:

'Robert Goodbody, ancestor to nearly all the family of that name in Ireland, was the second son of Mark and Elizabeth (Pim) Goodbody of Mountmellick. He married (first) Margaret, daughter of Jonathan and Sarah (Robinson) Pim, by whom he had six sons; (2nd) Jane daughter of James and Deborah (Bewley) Pim (no issue). In the 74th year of his age he wrote a full retrospective account of his life. The early part contains much of local interest, of marriages into, and visits between other Friends' families, and details of life of the period. There is a full and vivid account of the Rebellion of 1798, with many details of happenings in Rathangan, Mountmellick and Wexford. Mention is made of the precautions taken and help given by Friends in the very wet summer of 1799, when the timely purchase of potato and other seed, resold at a reasonable price, averted distress.

Robert Goodbody did not follow his father's trade of a tanner, but became a flour miller and baker. Following the death of his wife, he moved in 1826 to Clara, in King's Co., having bought a partnership in the Brusna Flour Mills.

Amongs visiting Friends noted in this life are Job Scott, Thomas Scattergood, William Crotch and Hannah Barnard whose preaching, in 1800, was the cause of closing Sycamore Alley Meeting House for a period. The visit of John Wesley to Mountmellick, about 1798, is also noted.'

I am grateful to the Michael I. A. Goodbody for the typescript issue of the Memoir. I have not compared this typescript with the original.

Being now within three months of seventy-four years old [written at Tullamore on 22nd January 1855], I think it would possibly afford satisfaction to some of my children, if I should note down some occurrences of my life.

I was born the 9th of 4th month 1781. My father’s name was Mark Goodbody, and my mother Elizabeth the eldest child of Robert and Alice Pim. My father was born in the year 1749, and my mother in 1753. They were married early in the year 1777 - They had a son before me, born in 1779, who died of the small-pox at the age of 4½ years - I don’t recollect him, as I was for some time previous at Tullylost, in the County Kildare, and was continued there for some time to avoid infection. My grandfather Robert Pim died while I was at Tullylost, both he and my brother died early in 1784. I suppose that if I had been at home I would have remembered them both, as I well remember the year 1784. My father removed that year to the house on the ground where Thos. Pims’ house now stands.

I was born in the house where my father-in-law Jonathan Pim lived. He raised it and improved it in 1792. All my children were born in the house where Thos. Pim built.

I recollect Rebecca Jones and Sarah Grubb being in MtMellick in the summer of 1785, but I don’t recollect their persons.

I think the first time that I was at Meeting was in that year at the marriage of Jane, the daughter of John Halton by his first wife. She married a friend from England named Tucket. She died soon after. He had a sister who travelled here as a minister about 1820. She was a well qualified minister. I well recollect the provincial school being set up perhaps in 1786, and Aunt Shannon’s soon after. Mary Ridgeway, an eminently good woman and a powerful minister, had been travelling in England and being at Ackworth School admired it so much that soon after she came home, she introduced the great want of education among friends in low circumstances in the women’s meeting at a Qy. Meeting, and offered to go into the men’s quarterly meeting where she laid her concern with such weight that the meeting took it up and agreed to have a school established, this was the origin of the Provincial School. I had this from good authority.

The first school that I went to, perhaps early in 1785, was to Sally Thompson who then had a large school of boys and girls near opposite to where Ann Strangeman lived. She was a very good hand at teaching girls good needle-work. She taught me my letters and I don’t think I quit her school until I could read pretty well. I never was very apt at any other learnings. I went for several years after to John Taylor, first in the old thatched Women’s meeting house, which was rebuilt in 1787. Anthony Pim was then the tallest boy in the school and perhaps I was the lowest. There was then several girls at the school one of which was very kind to me often giving me nice white bread, her name was Mary Shannon a handsome girl. She afterwards had three husbands, the latter and herself still living.

Flogged at school

I think she must be 80 years old and probably she and I are the only persons of that large school now living. John Taylor was a great man for flogging and often whipped me for bad writing, which the terror that it put into me, often prevented me from improving in anything. The fact was that I think I had a dull capacity, and dislike to school which flogging produces, made me worse. I think I must have also been very childish for a boy of my then age, as I often took great delight with my sisters in their baby-house.

In the fall of the year 1788 I had the small-pox naturally, one brother and two sisters. My brother Thomas took it first, when he was better my sister Sarah and I were down, lying in two beds in the same room. We were both very ill, I was covered over in all parts of my body with confluent pock, and was blind for many days, with a very sore throat. I don’t think I ever was stout for many years after, and I lost my eye-lashes, never having them good to this day. I well recollect old Betty Jackson (Mary Thacker’s mother: of all that family were very intimate with ours, and were a very good natured family), but to return, she was sitting by my bedside, I was listening to her saying that I was grinding my teeth, and that it was a sign of dying. That did not alarm me, the very probably that I might be really like to die, but I set to grind my teeth as long as I could. When I was getting better I had a great appetite but having a very sore throat I could take nothing but flummery then called sowings, which word calling for was never out of my mouth like a cry. I being blind, and well remember the first objects that attracted my sight when recovering it. My sister Ann had but a few spots, but made more noises crying than us all: she was then about two years old. All the rest of us were very badly marked, and I was a long time very red after it, and was annoyed by the boys calling me frosty face.

I ought to mention that I have a perfect recollection of my great-grandmother Wyly mother to my grandmother Pim, she died at the age of seventy seven in the 12th month 1786. I was frequently at her house perhaps before 1785, but from that time until her death she had me at meals. When at Tullylost she lived at Thomastown near that a fine old-fashioned place which she kept extremely neat. She was very neat also in her person. She wore one of these silk velvet black bonnets, which can be sat upon: It had also a cape or pillareen attached to it, which I don’t recollect having ever observed on any other person. I recollect her at Meeting in Rathangan. She had a four wheeled chair as it was then called, and her man, Larry Luck, riding a horse leading her horse. She used a stick with a crook on its head, and I remember her bringing me one morning after breakfast out to walk with her to see men she had turning a heap of manure. The field long after her death I remember, but perhaps about 40 years ago there was a Glebe House built on the same spot, Thomastown being a parish. While my family lived there there was an old ruin of a church there, and a burying ground, but since that there has been a new church built. I don’t think I ever went to Thomastown that my great-grandmother did not caution me against going to the well, which was the very means of my going to look down into it. It was a draw well very deep with a round house over it, covered with flags, and a windlass for drawing up the water. I think it was 80 feet deep, and I used to go to the door and look into it. Thomastown was in a valley and yet there was a great want of water on the land before that well was made. I have heard that in long dry weather the cattle would have to be driven near a mile to water. My great-grandmother was greatly respected by her neighbours and by friends who knew her. Her maiden name was Metcalf - It is very odd how dreams bring the features and persons of those long dead into recollection. Often have I on dreaming of her, had her person so renewed in my memory that when I awoke I felt as if I had just seen her.

1788

This year John and Mary Helton removed to Bristol from Mount Mellick, having an auction before they went. They lived in the house where Anthony Pim since lives, and Jonathan went to live in after his son James’ marriage. John Helton and Jonathan Pim were partners in the tanning business. My parents had a great regard for John and Mary Helton and were sorry to lose them as neighbours when they went to England. They had two sons, John and William, the latter died, I think, of the small-pox very soon after they left Mount Mellick, a boy of very promising disposition. The other lived to grow up and married Anne Alexander. He died a few years since.

I may mention that I recollect seeing John Wesley coming out of the Methodist meeting in Mountmellick, it might be in 1789. His picture often reminds me of his person.

In the spring of 1789 my dear Grandmother Pim broke up house, and had an auction which lasted more than a week. She had a well finished house, and very neat; it was then, I think, the decentist, or best house among friends in Mountmellick. She and my three Aunts and Alice Simmons came to lodge at my father’s, he having previously raised the back part of his house to accommodate them. They paid well for their accommodation, and my Aunts done much in the house, also making clothes for us all. My grandmother was a tall woman, and lusty, made much like my Aunt Margaret. My Aunt Alice was a good book-keeper, and had articles in the shop to sell on her own account. She was generally in the shop until shortly before her marriage in 1800, and was very clever there, setting my father much at liberty when called by business from home. My Aunt Sarah had been brought up by her grandmother Wyly until her death, and only then came to reside with her mother. Alice Simmons also lived with her grandmother and came also with Aunt Sarah. My grandmother’s house stood where Jonathan Pim’s shop is now. Mary Ridgeway’s and Artistis Sparks her sister also lodged with my father when I and my brother was born, but on my father’s moving across the street she went to grandmother.

In 1789 Mary Ridgeway and Jane Watson went to America. I well remember her going round the town to bid farewell. She came to my father’s after meeting on a first day evening, and the family and her were both in tears. I don’t recollect that I ever witnessed such a parting scene. They set out next day for Cork, where they took shipping in a vessel of Anthony Harris’ who went with them, and afterwards brought them back in 1792. Mary Ridgeway had with her her daughter-in-law, the wife of her son John, who was then in Philadelphia. Her name was Elizabeth, a sister of Mary Thecker. She was a tall, handsome woman, and well beloved in Mountmellick. Her brother Nathaniel took her in a chair, now called a gig, to Cork, in company with her mother-in-law; but the grief of her family on parting with her was excessive. There was no parting of them until my father took her in his arms and carried out and placed in the carriage. She was a very nice woman, and much loved by her acquaintances. She died in a few years afterwards, perhaps about 1795, and her husband, of the yellow fever a few years afterwards. A son of theirs, named Joshua, was brought over by his mother’s family in 1803. He was very unhealthy but a nice sensitive lad, he died perhaps about twelve years after.

I think it was in 1792 that Richard Shackelton a well-known character among Friends, being much devoted to the good of the Society, came to Mountmellick in the 7th of 8th month to attend the school committee then the Annual Meeting. He rode from Ballintore on 3rd day. I recollect him coming to see our family after dinner, and seeming well, and telling my grandmother of the death of his 1st cousin, a Metcalf married to John Boardman, I think her name was Hannah. Richard Shackelton attended the monthly meeting next day, and in the 2nd meeting was so poorly that he had to go out of meeting, which was the last time I ever saw him. He took to his bed, and died a few days after of fever. It was said that he got it by being shaved by a barber who had previously shaved a corpse, who died of fever. Richard Shackelton was a remarkable character. I think that for years he attended the yearly meeting of London, which at that time was both expensive and troublesome. He always wore spectacles and even then had bad sight.

I recollect Samuel Neale of Cork well. He was a large minister, and was in much esteem among friends as such. He often was at meetings in Mountmellick, and largely engaged therein.

In the 9th month 1793 my brother Samuel, a handsome child, died of the small-pox, about three years old. I was fond of him and felt very much seeing him, for perhaps 12 hours dying very hard in convulsions. My sister Jane was then but about 5 months old, and had it very bad. My mother was nursing her. She was frightfully swelled in her face, near the size of two infants. I well recollect the care my mother paid to her, night and day, holding her on her lap, and trying to keep her nourished at the breast, although a loathsome object as well as offensive, but she recovered. That was the time my sister Alice had the complaint, but she was not very ill.

Job Scott was in Mount Mellick a few days after, but not at our house on account of the infection. On 1st day morning he spoke longly. He was a great minister, and in the evening Robert Thacker was married to Mary Jackson - There was a very large crowded meeting, and several clergymen there. He commonly gave the clergy a great dressing often saying in his discourse that the Church of England Hierarchy would soon fall. I remember him afterwards at the winter meeting in Dublin saying on the same subject that the child was now born would see its downfall. I fear friends are sometimes led astray when they attempt to predict. However he died a few weeks afterwards of the small-pox, at the house of Elizabeth Shackelton of Ballitore.

Weddings

In the spring of 1794 there was two weddings at my father’s house. The first was Lucy Wyly a beautiful young woman, 1st cousin of my mother, to Joseph Malone, an ordinary pock-marked man. She died a few years after. She got acquainted with him at Clonmel. She left children after her, but it turned out a foolish match.

The other was the marriage of Cooper Clibborn to Alice Simmons. There was a very large wedding company. Sally Cooper, his Aunt, acted as a mother to him, and James Clibborn then a very handsome man acted as his father. James Clibborn was then a minister in good esteem, and a very plain dressed friend, which he never departed from afterwards. My grandmother acted as Alice Simmons’ mother and perhaps my uncle Joshua Pim as father, but I am not certain whether he was there or not. Sally Clibborn afterwards Metcalf, was then a most beautiful young woman and I presume it was there Francis Metcalf first got acquainted with her. They were married the next year. There was great grief the morning after when Alice Simmons was leaving us with the whole family. She was of a most amiable disposition. I sometimes think what a job there must have been to get up a large dinner in two rooms, and also a large supper. The tea was taken in a room upstairs, or rather two rooms, both which are still standing, the bedstead being taken down and it converted into what is called a drawing room, but how such a thing would now appear. But still everything was of the best, both of eating and drinking, and also variety of dishes, but at that day the sweets, some of them, were laid on the table with the meat.

In the 4th month of 1794 after the quarterly meeting my brother Thomas and I went to Ballitore School. My father’s man went with us to bring home our horses, as we rode. In our company we had Sarah Shackelton and Jane Thomas, also Abraham Shackelton, of course 6 horses. All those persons except myself are long since dead.

The first time my brother Thomas and I was in Dublin was at the winter meeting in the 11th month 1793, Job Scott being there. We thought Dublin a very great place then. We lodged at Thomas Pim’s and Robert Simmon’s, No. 34, Back Lane. It was then a good new house. They were wholesale Woollen Drapers. That part of the city is wonderfully reduced since. I passed it lately and could hardly recognise the house, the canal being then under repair.

My aunt Goodbody, and some other of the family I don’t recollect, both went and came in a chaise, and the first inn I ever was at was in the town of Naas. I staid near two years at Ballintore School, leaving it sooner perhaps in 2nd month 1796, on account of illness. My father and mother came with a hack chaise and brought me home, my brother being with us, but he staid at the school another year.

The quarterly meeting in Mountmellick in 3rd month 1796 was uncommonly large, perhaps none since so large. Thomas Scattergood was his companion was a traveller. Alexander Wilson was with him. There was also a number of ministers there. William Cratch from England, a powerful minister, but Thomas Scattergood was an extra-ordinary man, (a small thin man) a large minister, and something peculiar in his loving addresses, and his countenance also was indicative of his being of the right stamp - He dined at my father’s after the meeting. Being a tanner he inspected my father’s tanyard. Mary Ridgeway was also with him at dinner, as she often was with us. I recollect that Mary Ridgeway had a scruple to drink out of silver. We had a mug for her to take her beer, in which there was always put a bit of hot toast for her. She also had a dislike to see a great display of glasses and wine at the table after the cloth was removed, but still she used to take one glass of wine. What would she say now to be told that it was wrong to take any fomented liquor? I hope she would not have found fault with anything for which there is scripture authority for. I think it is a very dangerous thing to set ones judgement over scripture, if once done there is no end to the errors it brings in.

Death of Robert Goodbody's grandmother

On the 26th of 9 mo. 1796 my dear grandmother died suddenly in her 63rd year. (My grandmother died on the 26th of 9 mo. 1796 of a 2nd day, and was buried at Rathangan the 6th day following).

She had been for some time in declining health. Her husband dropped dead twelve years before, and she never after had good spirits, which was increased by her only son Robert marrying out of Society to an Elizabeth Palmer, a person well connected, but of some very loose living family, then living in Ossery, which at that time was famous for viscious living. He settled with his wife’s family. I don’t think his mother ever saw him afterwards, but once a short time before her death, when he breakfasted at my father’s in her company. He was naturally a good-natured man, but had little firmness or sense. He died in Dublin in 1806 leaving a widow and family. To return to my grandmother, she was going up stairs after dinner, perhaps 1½ hours afterwards, and was in the act of speaking to my aunt Alice, enquiring something of her, when she dropped dead on the stairs. My poor aunt called in great fright to get help to lift her up, I heard her call and with others run up, but she was dead and her jaw fallen. Except my aunt and I all the rest of the family were from home at the meeting of Edenderry. The day before was the first day, and I recollect well her getting us children into the back parlour and she sitting in the window reading to us the conclusion or summing up by William Penn, of No Cross no Crown. The family that were from home were sent for immediately, and came back that night about 12 o’clock. I was awake in bed not having slept, and my father came to see me. I recollect Fanny Bewley, and Margaret Pim, afterwards my wife, coming to lay my grandmother out. She was buried on the 6th day following at Newtown near Rathangan, having a very large funeral leaving Mountmellick, and we met on the road at or near Cushina most of the friends of Edenderry, and Rathangan, Joseph Inman and Ruth, Joshua Wilson and Hannah, Samuel Neale and Debby, Abm. Neale and Whelan’s carriages. At the burying ground was the first place I ever saw Samuel Emlin who was there with Mary Ridgeway. There was a very long silence, but no speaking. I went with my aunt Margaret to Tullylost that night, and home next day, all the rest returning the day before. Dorah Harvey, Mary Pim’s sister died and was buried the same day I got home at Rossenaless [sic]. Next day Samuel Emlin was at the meetings in Mountmellick, and several meetings afterwards as he and Mary Ridgeway entered on a family visit in Mountmellick. He was a large powerful minister. I recollect one of his texts was, the treacherous dealers have dealt very treacherously, out of Isaiah: he seemed to have the scriptures all by heart.

I think that it was in 1797 or 8 that Elizabeth Pim, my wife’s sister died of galloping consumption. She was a sober young person aged about 16. My uncle Richard’s only child Sussanna, who had been several years at Clonmel school came home, in the 11th month 1797. In about a year afterwards he placed her at my father’s to diet and lodge, I suppose to perfect her education. Perhaps she might be then 16 years of age, but in a few weeks afterwards in the 1st mo. she became ill, and it turned out the small-pox. My uncle took her home, in great trouble about her, but they were aware that she never had the disease before. I think that she died at the end of four weeks afterwards, having suffered greatly, and at times in great anxiety about her well being, but died peacefully. Her mother, a weak-minded woman at the best (her maiden name was Ester Gatchell) soon after got astray in her mind, and died a few months after, leaving my uncle very desolate, but a sister-in-law of his continued to reside with him. He afterwards in the year 1800, married my aunt Alice Pim.

Rebellion of 1798

The rebellion of 1798 was a memorable time. There was a very disturbed winter before, taking arms and robbing houses of the Protestants. In the spring a proclamation by Government was put out, that the country people that had arms, if they would deliver them up, and take the Oath of Allegiance, they would be protected. Perhaps the lower orders about Mountmellick pretended that they were innocent. I don’t recollect that they gave up any arms, but I was on a visit at Uncle Pims in Rathangan (as that family had moved in from Tullylost for safety a short time before), and perhaps the Co. Kildare was under Martial Law, but I there saw in the 4 mo. numbers of men perhaps hundreds, giving up their arms and taking the Oath of Allegiance, and getting out their protections. But in 6 weeks after, when the rebellion broke out, the same people in fact the country with few exceptions, all R. Catholics came in as rebels, and murdered every protestant man they could lay their hands on, perhaps upwards of twenty – The protestants got into a house next William Pims who was then ill in bed, and thought to defend themselves there but before that the rebels had murdered several of the protestants. They also murdered James Spencer, the landlord of the town, in a barbarous manner in his own house and cut his head off. They afterwards brought up his affected widow at their head, getting her to speak to the protestants in their garrison, and to request that they capitulate and that their lives would be spared: which she did, but almost immediately after they were all murdered.

My cousin Joshua Pim knowing that he was obnoxious to the rebels, brought his man with him over to Mountmellick on 5th day to my father’s, and sent back his man with a horse, a man that had been reared under the family at Tullylost. But when he came back he gave a double rap at the hall door, and gave in the bridle and saddle to Jane Pim who opened the door for him. The rebels were then in possession of the town. Besides other friends living in the town, there was of our family – my uncle and aunt Pim, their daughter Jane and Hanna, and my aunt Margaret, William Pim and his wife at next house with their apprentices. William was ill in bed with fever. I have heard my aunt Margaret say that at the back windows they could see people hiding their valuables in the ground in their gardens, expecting the rebels in, and when they came they at once set to plundering, ripping up the feather beds to store things in the ticks. She said the quantity of feathers thrown out in the streets made the streets look as white as snow. However my uncle’s family were wonderfully preserved, and though the lower part of the house was at all times full of rebels and their wives; they killing sheep in abundance and dressing them in the kitchen where they sat and drank all the time they had had possession of the town, which was four or five days. The family, however, had a man, a Catholic, perhaps between 50 and 60 years old, a follower of the family, (I wish that I could recollect his name) but he made it his business to keep the rebels down in the kitchen story and prevented them from roving over the house. My uncle Pim was then confined to his bed, helpless and perhaps childish, when one day a parcel of the rebels got in at the hall door, he lying in the room opposite, and going into the room where were all the females of the family, of course much terrified; but on their coming in and looking at him lying on his bed, they said that he was a good man and immediately turned about and left the house. A few days after two of the blackhorse drove on their horses through the town in a gallop, but I think one of them and his horse were both shot. But soon after the army came in by the Dublin road and the rebels soon took to their heels, after dancing round their tree of liberty for several days and committing many murders, some of the bodies of which were brought and laid in the churchyard for burial, the weather being uncommonly hot and fine. But one of those bodies came to life in the night, and escaped with his life, his wound not being mortal, got home and was afterwards called the “Resurrection”, but when the army came in many of themselves were shot, in fact everyone in coloured clothes was in danger as supposed rebels. The soldiers naturally thinking all the loyalists were murdered. It was on this occasion that the kind man who had exerted himself to keep the rebels from pillaging my uncle Pim’s house, was taken up by the soldiers near the bridge, and about being shot when some women brought word of it to my aunt Pim, and she immediately with my aunt Margaret Pim went through the streets full of furious soldiers, many of them intoxicated, and as soon as possible spoke to the officer who had him in custody, and begged his life telling them how kind he has been to them. They got him off and brought him up to the house under guard. The servant man that had become their master now had to hide himself for days on their concern, often imminent danger of his life. At the next house at William Pims there was, all the time the rebels were in possession, a protestant man under an empty sugar hogshead in the yard, often with crowds of the rebels lying about with their pikes, but escaped. It is surprising that neither of the houses was plundered, except of trifling articles, but when the army came in, Robert Woodcock, a very handsome lad, being in coloured clothes, a soldier seeing him, run after him to take his life, he ran upstairs and the soldier after him. He met Elizabeth Pim on the landing place and run behind her, she shifting over to save him, and shouting to the man not to fire, but he did, and I think by the shot broke his arm, but Elizabeth Pim had marvellous escapes as the garrison of the loyalists was next door to them. I don’t think that in either of the houses even the plate or house linen was disturbed, but many of those who looked to the arm of flesh to save them lost very heavily.

One young man, Thomas Gatchell, my schoolfellow, had been much with the army before the rebellion broke out, and consulted with E. Pim what he had best do, but he did not take her advice, took up arms and went to the garrison, and when they capitulated he escaped with another out backwards, and got into a large empty house built by John Pomeroy. He probably also got up a chimney on the upper storey. But both of them were murdered very soon after, and I saw afterwards the marks of their blood and brains on the hearthstone.

My uncle Pim died about 5 weeks after this.

I now return to Mountmellick where there never was any regular break out, but all only willing to do so. The rebels broke out at Monasterevan, and if I recollect right, set fire to some houses near Portarlington, but I don’t think they ever got possession of either of these towns. But on the day of the attack on Monasterevan there was great alarm over the town of Mountmellick, and about dusk in the evening a young lad rode out of the town, and after a while brought in word that the rebels were collecting at the Rock of Debycot, but it was then so dark that he might have made a mistake, which I believe was the case, but on that there was a terrible hubbub in the town, men, women and children running about, and the Yeomanry all getting under arms, but about 12 o’clock all became quiet but guards sat up all night and from that for several weeks. But that evening my father being inside his shut shop door, overheard two men who would be very sorry not being counted loyal, saying that they would have fine fun if there was a row, plundering the Quackers’ shops. A few days after the army came into Mountmellick perhaps a hundred of I think the Downshire Militia and with them two nine pounder cannon, which were placed in the market house immediately opposite to our house, and a regular guard there night and day. I think it was on the 7th day of this week that my father and Joshua Pim went to near Ardry Mills about 65 miles from Rathangan to see if they could hear anything from their friends there, but they were advised to go no further or they would be murdered, but they saw several houses in the town on fire. I suppose thatched ones. They came back with a heavy heart thinking it likely that all their friends were murdered. I recollect Jos. Pim in great distress, indeed the whole family, but the excitement and the possibility of each of us being in the rebels’ hands kept people from sinking too much. But in a few days order was restored by the Government proclaiming martial law and a military force. The tables were now turned, and orders came down from the castle to have Jerry Dunn and two or three more taken up and flogged. No doubt that they had been informed of, and the event proved that they were guilty. Jerry Dunn was a fat big man, he was father of Patrick Dunn a stone mason. I think he was flogged twice at the pump near our house. The women said the Virgin Mary was supporting him. Joseph W. Pim was just then born, and James, his father, got them to take the flogging to the pump. But on Jerry Dunn being brought out the third time he confessed to being a captain of the rebels, and gave the names of the persons he had sworn. I know nothing of this, but on going down the garden I found all the men in the tanyard had decamped, and soon after found them hiding about the place. I, however, brought them down and put them out through the hedge in the garden, but in a few days after they were all taken up and confined in the riding house, a large place that would hold many hundreds of people. They were kept there many days, and several tried by Court Martial. One a horse yeomanry, his name was Brock, a son of Edward Brock, a handsome young fellow, was condemned for selling pikes in his father’s shop. Though very young yet having taken the oath as a yeoman, he was condemned to be hung, but on application to be shot he was shot, and 11 others hung on the gallows in Pound Street, nearly opposite the lane, 7 one day and 4 another. There were several other sentenced to be hung, among others John Ryan a brogue maker who dealt with my father for leather, and then owed him a large sum. But the night before he was to be hung my father brought me with him as witness, he made a will and arranged for my father to be paid. He then fully expected to be hung and several others next day, but next day a reprieve came from Lord Lieutenant Cornwallis, and after a while the whole were liberated on condition that they would show themselves every day, and answer to their names. They were then collected on a dunghill which was then on an open space near Sally Simpson’s in Barrack Street. They went in crowds through the streets every evening back and forward and was called the dunghill parade. But except one or two persons, at least a very few, the whole of the lower order of R. Catholics that were all deep in the rebellion – A short time before the rebellion in a fight returning from a funeral some persons that died in Mountmellick and was buried near the Heath, then quarrelled on the road home in a house and killed a man. It was afterwards proved on a trial by court martial that it originated about the broguemakers and others dividing among themselves the houses and business of the houses in Mountmellick, of respectable Protestants, who were of course to be put out of the way. One of these rebels was the very man John Ryan that escaped hanging. He and another of his trade were disputing which should have my father’s tanyard and shop, that Ryan afterwards defrauded me of near £100, between him and his wife, a short time before I quit business in Mountmellick: and after I came to Clara thinking that he was dead, I met him on the footpath opposite my field looking well, and accosted me to help him, but I refused as I have always discouraged persons coming after me, for when I have given assistance I found that it only encouraged them to come perhaps repeatedly.

After the rebellion was over it was surprising how soon the respectable people got up their spirits, and perhaps went in some instances, by exuberance of spirits into licentiousness, drinking etc. In the 6th mo. 1799 my mother took me to drive her in the chair to Enniscorthy then a near after the battle of Vinegar Hill. When we got near Enniscorthy having lodged the night before at Ballyealey at Betsey Lockey’s, but going into the town we could scarcely see a person to enquire the way. All the suburb’s long streets in all parts of that town then mud walls were without roof or inhabitants they themselves having set fire to them on the rebellion breaking out, and went to the hill men and women to gain the camp. But when we got into the body of the town, there was plenty of the other party about the streets, but numbers of houses which had been thatched burned down, and in ruins, as was also the Protestant Church.

There was a number of military and yeomen about the streets all as merry as possible, while I was there music etc. When we went to meeting on first day morning at which there were many ministers, and a large meeting, but when we came out we found the Protestant Church of England persons waiting outside for us to break up in order for them to commence their service in the same house. Some friends said it was wrong to accommodate them, but I thought it would be a most unchristian act to have prevented them. I rather think that at and before that time, there was no regular meeting of friends in Enniscorthy, but that the few friends who lived in the town attended Cooladine meeting. John Rudd was then rebuilding his Inn, Government having paid him his losses. A number of other houses was also building from the same source, but friends made up a collection among their body to help those that had lost nearly all they had in the rebellion. Nearly all those losses were confined to the Co. Wexford. Friends from America also sent over a handsome sum, which not being wanting they were noticed of it and I think instead of taking it back, they ordered it to some other public fund, but perhaps in England. But in the American war relief was sent from England to friends there. I forgot at commencing my account of the rebellion to say that the way the rebels took to give notice to their party in the country, was to attack all the mail coaches and the passage boats. They stopped them all. The Limerick Mail was attacked at Cherryville Hill near Kildare, at the very place where the Carlow and Cork Railway now unites, and a gentleman inside was shot dead, I think his name was Blood; I think the horses also were shot.

In the 8th mo. 1799 my aunt Pim, Hannah Pim’s mother, came in a declining state of health to see us for the last time. She had been very poorly in the Spring. It was thought that her decline was brought on by getting a sad fall. She was going out of her hall door at night to see her son William next door, and fell perhaps 9 feet into the area, the rails not having been put up, but though stunned she was soon taken up and did not appear to have received much injury. But however she very soon became unwell with some inward complaint. She died in the 11 mo. aged 63. My brother Thomas being nearly despaired of at the same time of typhus fever. My mother took me with her to see her in the 9th mo., she having gone home after staying a few weeks with us. This was the last time I saw her. She was at all times very kind and much attached to my mother, and I was fond of her.

Death of Mark Goodbody, father of Robert

In the year 1800 my father and mother and myself and several of the family were at the yearly meeting in Dublin, at which was Hannah Bernard, an artful woman, endeavouring to instil principles of infidelity into her hearers. She was quite an orator. She and her party had Sycamore Alley meeting house, a large meeting, but I was at Meath Street in the morning, where the old lights met. At that time both houses used to be open on 1st day during the meeting, but after that meeting seeing the use that was made of it, it was discontinued for the future. It was at this meeting that my mother was hit by a man in the street, in the breast, a man carrying a trunk which hit her in that tender part – Very soon after she came home she felt a lump in her breast, which was painful. My father brought her to Dublin, and had the best advice he could get for her, from a surgeon, who gave her remedies, a principal of which was dandelion juice, and some ointment to rub on her breast, but to keep her mind quiet and use mild exercise, but if she got worse to see him again. She was under this treatment and getting better until the illness of my father in the 8th mo. of which he died. My father left home for Dublin on a first day evening going to Rathangan to lodge at Jos. Pim’s. It was then very warm weather, as the whole summer had been, and my father leaving home had on him a thin jane vest, and small clothes, but the next day was very cold in the canal boat, and it was thought that he got cold. However William Pim was then ill in a fever, but not supposed to be in danger. It was said that my father got it from him: he might have been in the house, but I doubt if he was in his room. My father was fearful of fever, however, after he went to Dublin he kept his bed several days at R. M. Jacksons, where he always lodged. My mother might have heard of his getting safe, but never heard of his being ill, and not getting letters by post as she used to do regularly before from my father, she became very uneasy, and every morning she was telling us how uneasy she was and having frightful dreams, seeing him at the point of death and that she was certain he was ill. Nothing could persuade her that he was going to die. I suppose it was to keep her from fretting, on account of her breast, that they did not write. However on the 7th day morning we got directions to send the chair for them to Rathangan, they being to leave Dublin by the boat that day, but until my father and aunt Alice came home we did not know how ill he had been, or ill at all. They got home in the evening about 7 o’clock, he came in and I helped him off with his coat, and he kissed me, but never sat down until he went upstairs, and to bed at once. I never saw him to speak to after, but Dr. Jacob was sent for immediately to Knockfin where he then lived 20 miles off, but did not come till next morning first day. He said when he saw him that it was fever, and his spirits much affected that he should be kept very quiet, being very nervous and fearing that seeing us would make him worse. Neither my brother or I went near him, but my mother did for a day or two, and told us that he said he was resigned but had nothing to trust in but the mercy of God through Christ, but as she could not control her feelings in his presence she gave up seeing him, but my aunt Alice and Sarah stayed with him to the last, also Ann Richardson, and her sister Elizabeth Shannon, his cousins, but our house was not entered by any friend in the town for fear of fever. Only cousin Ann Paisley would come and sit by my mother, but she having lodgings in a house who were friends, but had her own rooms, they threatened to keep her out if she would pay visits to us. I at that time was foolishly afraid of fever. My uncle Richard also sat up with my father and stayed much with him through the following week. He was sometimes better and oftener worse, but never was delirious. But on 1st day morning he was much worse, constipation having set in, and his belly greatly swelled. Many things were tried, hot baths, and strong remedies, but about ten minutes before three in that day he departed it being a very hot day, and immediately after he died the obstruction in his bowels gave way, which if it had done before he might have had a chance. He was interred on 3rd day evening following. William Pim died the day week before him. My father’s death was a severe loss to his family, a loss to the town and to the meeting. I don’t think there was a more upright man in the town, he was also a public spirited man. That summer in consequence of the wet weather of 1799 all the wheat being malty and the potatoes very wet, and bad, much of them about Mountmellick being spoiled by the floods and water lying on them, so that in the markets potatoes rose to 20/- aft Barrel – the oats were also very bad and malty, also the wheat. I think about the 4th mo. the poor were so much distressed by the high price of provisions that there was a subscription set on foot to buy in oatmeal at a distance most of which was purchased at Waterford. A large sum was collected and also a large sum lent to purchase food. A store was opened for the sale of food, the poorest got for nothing, others at reduced prices, and those able to pay full price got at that cost, which most of the summer was 6/6d. per stone, but none were allowed to get more than two stone even at full cost, unless they were known to have large families, but many hundreds from the town, and all parts of the country partook of the charity. The weaving trade was then very good, and high prices paid them for their labour. There was a large and respectable committee sat twice a week, for the purchase and distribution of food. There was also a public oven built or rather two ovens to bake brown bread, which was sold at cost price. I did not belong to that committee, but my father was active on it. Us young men attended to the sale and receiving the money, and I think on some days used to receive one hundred pounds. Most of that summer was hot and dry, and the harvest came in very early. The wheat was ripe month, which I don’t recollect happening since, until the year 1826. The committee also purchased potatoes that spring at a very high price, and gave away to those that had gardens but could not buy, by which means there was much more potatoes planted than usual. Plenty of them was ripe and good for use in the 7th month by which means famine was over in that month.

Overly Concerned Father

I think it right here to mention that my parents begun early with us to keep us from wrong things. Often do I recollect when perhaps not five years old, my father taking me aside to advise me. He used those occasions to tell me what obligations he was under to the Almighty for providing for him in the way that he was in, mentioning his giving him a good wife and enabling him from small beginnings to provide for us so that no children were better clad, fed or cared for than us. My mother also took much pains with us, and both were constantly warning against pride and high mindedness. They would not allow the servants to call us master, but as to drinking to excess, as we grew up it was there constant subject to warn us against it, and any of their acquaintance who gave up to that vice, they showed their disapproval of it by not entertaining them or associating with them. I often think of the care our parents bestowed on us to keep us from vice. We owed them much, but in that day fathers I think went to the extreme of restraint. I think my father often erred on that head.

A surgical operation for his mother

Soon after my father’s death my mother had to go to Dublin to administer, in the 10th month, and also to speak to the surgeon as her breast was giving her more trouble. He told her not to mind it, but if it got worse to come to him and he would see what was to be done. It continued to get worse and in the end of the 12th month she went again to him. He then told her that it was much too late, and recommended her to go home. She was much alarmed, fearing that she would have a very painful death. After that she called in Dr. Jacob. His opinion was that it was not too late but recommended a consultation with an army surgeon living in Kilkenny, a Dr. Bathwick, a rough scotch man. I think it was in the 1st month 1801 that they met in consultation, and concluded on performing an operation next day, which was first day, which my mother made up her mind at once to submit to. Next day while friends were at first meeting it was done. Of course none of us went to meeting, and several women friends were in the house. I think my aunt Sally was in the room and Mary Bewley. The doctors proposed that my mother’s arm should be bound as she sat on a chair, for the knife being used but she objected. Mary Bewley stood by her all the time, and she bore it without attempting to raise her hands. It might be ten minutes before they were done. They did not take away much of the outer skin, perhaps 1½ inches square, but scraped out the lump about the size of a large potatoe. My mother was then put to bed, and perhaps she was three weeks confined there, but in the end her breast healed, yet she was for months after in poor health, and very nervous. She went to the salt water in summer but after that a gland extended under her arm, became diseased and cancerous which Dr. Jacob and Bathwick afterwards extracted, perhaps in the 10th month after the first operation. The second was full as bad as the first operation, besides her life being in much danger from a sudden bleeding of an artery the part to be taken away adhering to an artery, but in the end she was favoured to recover, as her death would have been a sore loss to her young family.

Mountmellick's new meeting house

The old meeting house in Mountmellick was taken down in 1804 (the old meeting house was built in 1709, the first on the site) after the quarterly meeting, the last sitting of which owing to snow on the roof being thawing the wet was pouring down in many places. There was in the centre of the house lengthways five wooden pillars and a beam over them all in oak. From them there were oak girders to the walls at each side. Perhaps 50 years before owing to the girders decaying there was nice brackets put under them at the walls to support them, but when it was taken down it was providential that the roof did not tumble in or at least the heavy ceiling, for the girders were rotten before they rested on the girders. I mention this that persons should inspect public buildings and see that they are safe. The new house was rebuilt in the same year, much of the old walls being left standing. I drew the plan as it now stands, windows and all, I fixed the size of them. In the old house the gallery was lengthways at the left hand side as you go in by the door where it is now, with porch outside having two doors. There was also a door in the centre opposite the gallery, which in large meetings was always opened on the meeting breaking up, (I mean in crowded meetings). The meeting house is 54 feet long and 38 feet broad. The present gallery handrail is made of the handsome old Irish oak of the old house. It being the only visible relic of the old house. The new house was first used in the 6th month 1805, and the first minister that spoke in it was Martha Smith of Doncaster, her companion was Elizabeth Heyland who spoke after her.

Marriage to Margaret Pim in 1807

I am now going to relate the most important act of my life, my marriage with Margaret Pim, which took place on the 22nd of 11th month 1807. I had previously asked for her in the summer of 1802, soon after I was of age, but she was influenced to refuse me at the time. I made two attempts afterwards, which was unsuccessful, the last in 1804. Her mother perhaps had an objection to it, but her daughter afterwards told me that she was influenced by others. I know whom, but as he is dead I wish to avoid it. But her mother said she ought not to marry, but take care of her parents. However she got into bad health in the spring of 1805 and died in Dublin at her son Thomas’ house in William Street, the first week in the 6th month. I cannot say that on no occasion I never thought of any other person for a wife but I never asked for any other young woman. I felt restrained from doing so, believing that M. P. was the right person for me. After her mother’s death she continued to reside with and take care of her father. She was always a favourite with her father but he was easily influenced by others. However in 1807 I proposed again for her and was accepted which I have always looked upon as a great blessing to me and her children. We continued to reside with her father until after the yearly meeting of 1808, her father not having got anyone until the 3rd month previous, when Alice Russell came to live with him, being his relation. She remained with him while he lived, which was when he died the 8th of 2nd month 1824. My dear wife had at different times after she was married very serious illnesses, and was often reduced to great debility. In the spring of 1821 we went to reside at Grange Lodge, a nice healthy residence. When in tolerable health she was generally very cheerful, and was much loved and respected by all our connexion, and the public generally. There is good reason to conclude that her ill-health was owing to loss of blood. She had naturally a florid complexion, and at many times for ten years before her death she from that cause would be as pale as death for days together, or I may say weeks. She has often told me that when persons would congratulate her on looking well it reminded her that she would soon be ill again. But from loss of blood she at different periods evinced symptoms of water in place of blood, her weakness at those times being often alarming. But still she often rallied again and for a while would enjoy tolerable good health. She was present at her father’s death with myself and Alice Russell. Little did I think that she would herself be taken in a few months after. She and I were at the yearly meeting in 1821 (I was not with her in 1824). But frequently thro’ the summer she was poorly and often better again. I don’t think that I was aware that she was worse than usual. I think that it might be about the 6th month that when we were retiring to rest one summer’s evening I remarked on hearing of some failures in Waterford and Clonmel which she mentioned, and these good and respectable friends. I remarked that when such as these got into trouble and difficulties, how could we expect to escape. She replied in a peculiarly, impressive manner, that if she was taken from her children she had the confidence to trust that her children would be provided for. I think that on a previous occasion some short time before, on something being proposed about some of her children being sent to school, that she would wish to keep her children with her while she lived. And on another occasion speaking of their sleeping apartment, she said she would like them to sleep near us, while she was with them. We then slept in the large room upstairs.

Death of Robert's wife in 1824

I don’t think was more than two months before her death, that soon after I went to sleep I dreamed that I saw her in the agonies of death, and suddenly awoke, but of course did not make any remark to her. She was then often very nervous and low spirited, and a thrush in the garden used to sing early in the morning , in which she took delight in listening to. But one morning she woke me remarking that she was afraid the thrush was killed as she missed his singing, and we never heard it after. Soon after this time her breathing was so affected by walking upstairs that the Drs. recommended that we should sleep in the drawing room, which we did perhaps for three weeks before her end, but even then she would have intervals of amendment. When I took her out for a few times before her death her breathing would be so affected by exertion that I used to carry her from the house and put her into the gig. I think it was about three weeks before her death, that an offer was made to me by John Pim to let me the Brusna Mills. She fully approved of it, and Anthony Pim and I went there. John Pim coming with us from Tullamore. But when we got there John Moore although he had agreed to do it previously, would not give up possession, and when we got home, when I told her she was visibly disappointed, and much concerned at it, and next morning I told her perhaps it was all for the best., but she did not seem of that mind. I think at that time she had made up her mind to wish to go to live there, and fully expected it, and it is probable that if she had not approved of it that after her decease I would never have thought of going there, for after she had gone I had given up all hopes of removing, yet when it did offer again I went merely on her full approval of it. In her lifetime, and on any other occasions or circumstances, I have often referred in my mind to what would have been her opinion, and followed that, and in no instance do I think that I was ever wrong in doing so. The last ten days before she died I felt uneasy at leaving her alone, and sometimes stayed with her while others were at meeting. The monthly meeting in the 9th mo. was on the 4th day before her death. I did not go to the first meeting, but went to the meeting of discipline. Yet on my sitting a few minutes I left the meeting and went home. Yet soon after her death Joe Pim and John Morris came on some appointment of the yearly meeting to read a minute and they both opened out at me about my non-attendance of meetings and mentioned my quitting that meeting soon after I sat down. I told them the course of it but it was useless, they were confident that I was wrong, yet I knew otherwise. Now if they had any right feeling they could not have made the remarks they did. I may on many occasions have absented myself from meeting, but it was never much my practise. I have often thought that some friends when they pay visits to those they consider delinquents, often depart from the spirit that they ought by right speak to such. Next day was 5th day and her eldest son Marcus left home that morning to go to Dublin to live with his uncle Thomas as an assistant in his business. His mother felt it keenly, but did not show it to him. After he was gone, in the course of the day, I took her out in the gig for perhaps a 5 mile drive which was the last she ever took. She seemed to enjoy it much, it being a fine day, and frequently said that she hoped Marcus would be preserved. I had to carry her into the gig and out of it on getting home, and laid her down in the parlour, where we found Rachel M. Jackson and understood that Mary Thacker called while we were out, and was much disappointed at not finding her at home. But R. M. J. stopped until we came in and I afterwards brought her home in the gig. Mary Thacker never saw her after that. Next day 6th day she was up and as well as for some days, but owing to an attack of bleeding in the night she kept her bed on 7th day but was very cheerful, having several visits from some poor women who called to see her. On 7th day she arranged that I should go on 1st day morning to the meeting of Edenderry, and return in the evening, bringing Jonathan with me. But early in the morning she got out of bed and the bleeding coming on, I helped her into bed, in a fainting state. When she revived I told her that I could not think of leaving her, and must give up going, but she was so anxious that Jonathan should not be disappointed that she proposed that George Bewley should be sent for to take home, which he did, and they returned in the evening. I got up and dressed after, and got her breakfast. Perhaps she ate an egg, but little else, but a letter coming in from Marcus by post, she told me to lay the tea on the hearth while she would read the letter. Very soon after she ate her breakfast she made an attempt to get out of bed, but fainted in the exertion. I lifted her into bed, and settled her, but seeing that she did not come to, soon after sent for the Dr., and for M. Thacker and A. Pim. They were all there shortly but after that turn she had little consciousness and spoke very little. The Dr. said it was an attack of serious apoplexy, and seemed to think that nothing could be done for her, as she could not be got to take stimulants. I don’t recollect whether she took any, but closed her eyes and begun to breathe very hard, like snoring. I think the last words she spoke was about 1 o’clock when she opened her eyes, and seeing me asked me was I there all day. These were her last words, but it seemed as if she was conscious of the time that had passed. After that she closed her eyes and continued breathing as before with loud rattles in her throat, which lasted until 3rd day; often sighing at intervals. There was not much change in her until just before she died, when she breathed shorter for a few moments and departed about ten minutes before 3 o’clock on 3rd day the 28th of 9th mo. I never went to bed during those days. Often she could be heard breathing and moaning through the whole house. She was buried on 6th day the 1st of 10th mo., having by far the largest and most respectable funeral that I ever saw in that or any other place.

His fortunate children

9th of 4th mo. 1855. I am this day 74 years old. I consider it a great mercy that I am still favoured with comparative good health for my now great age. I am feebler in my limbs than some years back and have now but little use of my right arm, it is said by rheumatism, but as to hearing and sight it is as good as ever it was in my life. I can without glasses read the smallest print by candle light. I don’t think that I ever had at any time good talents, perhaps at times I think I had not one, but I am conscious of never having improved what I had as I ought. I must acknowledge that through life I have been guilty of many sins of commission, and was it not for the trust I have in the goodness and mercy of God which followed me all my life, I should despair of my future happiness. I recollect when Samuel Emlin was attacked with illness a few hours before his death, he said “that he thanked God for the hope that he had in his mercy”. (I find now that it was at J. Gurney Bevens house in London that S. Emlin being ill in bed used these expressions. I find that I am mistaken in Samuel Emlin having spoken these words. His saying was of a very different character. I presume that I read of some other friend having expressed them). He was a person who spent a long life in the service of his maker. But on the contrary I have been a weak erring mortal, and it is wonderful to me to think that I can hold the same feelings respecting myself. I have been most wonderfully blessed with good children who live in love with themselves and I hope maintain a character for uprightness in their dealings. They, some at least, have been wonderfully blessed with the good things of this life, and I sincerely wish that they may not forget the giver nor allow themselves to be elated with riches, or train up their families in improper indulgence, which in the end will tend to their great loss. As to myself, I have been wonderfully blessed with independence in my old age, which if it had been otherwise I believe it would have gone very hard with me, and perhaps shortened my days. But such has been my manifold obligations to the Almighty that I often feel that I am very far from returning him the thanks that I ought. I often feel as if I was totally unworthy of the multiplied blessings showered down upon me, an unworthy erring creature.

Death of Sarah Pim

27th of 4th mo. I now revert to sundry deaths in my near connexions. The first after my father’s death in our family circle was my dear aunt Sarah Pim, who was found by my mother on the morning of the 27th of 4th mo. 1813 dead on her bed. She evidently had a struggle with death, as she had raised herself in the bed, and a pillow raising her head with the usual marks of a death struggle on her, but quite warm, and seemed to have very recently died. She was a sensible prudent woman, whom I much loved. Her body was opened as she had symptoms of heart disease, but nothing found to account for death. She was buried at Tinneel the first day following. She died on a 4th day morning. My uncle Richard Goodbody was then in poor health, yet got better in the summer of 1814. The last week in the tenth month he went to Monasteraven to see his cousin E. White who had recently lost a daughter, I think her name was Eliza. He spent a few days there, my aunt Goodbody being with him. I think it was on the 3rd of 11th mo. he came home, driving the gig himself. He did not complain of being ill or particularly fatigued, and ate his dinner as usual. After the cloth was removed he took some warm negus, and soon after was seized with a paralytic stroke all on one side. His intellects were also very much affected, so as that instead of being conscious of his ailment he fancied that it was the persons about him that were ill-using him, which was a severe trial to my aunt and her sister Margaret, who were hard set to hold him on the sofa with the assistance of the servants. My aunt sent for me and Dr. Armstrong. I soon got there, perhaps in 2 ½ hours after he was attacked. When I went in he complained to me of the way he had been used, but I at once saw that he must be put to bed, and without saying anything to him I put my arms under him and carried him upstairs myself, he not being satisfied but had no power to resist. He was a very tall man, and I have often been surprised that I could do it by myself. However, when I laid him on his bed, and with my poor aunt’s assistance took off his clothes he became much more like himself and quiet, but expressed great surprise at my strength. After some time the Dr. came and applied mustard plasters to his arm and leg, which rose quickly, but I don’t think he ever while he lived had any relief from the complaint. But his mind was perfectly as it ought to be, and he at different times spoke with great thankfulness and seemed conscious that his end was near. He died on the 17th of 11th mo. 1814, and was interred on the 20th.

My uncle Samuel Goodbody died on the 3rd of 5th mo. 1816, being a very kind uncle to our family and particularly so to me. He was poorly all that Spring with an evident decline owing to age. He was born 1741, and was entered his 76th year when he died. My uncle Richard had only attained his 70th year shortly before his death. They were both very upright men, but the latter was of much more religious turn.

I did not write anything after this until now, the 31st of 8th mo. 1855, since which I have been at the last yearly meeting of London, and was better in health on returning home. I may now return to the subject of deaths in our family. My dear aunt Alice Goodbody after building a new house which she called Grange Lodge, and living in it a year, but for some years in very poor health. About a week before she died I was called up to her, she being a long time subject to the disease termed Angina Pectoris. However, after a while by warm stuping she got better. She had previously to this had her clothes packed up in order to attend the ensuing yearly meeting in Dublin, but then gave it up. However, I went and some more of the family, and was in Dublin when on 2nd day night of the yearly meeting 1817 on third day morning, my aunt Margaret that slept in another bed in the same room got up and dressed herself, thinking that her sister was asleep, went down and when breakfast was ready went up to see whether her sister was ready for breakfast. She found her in bed and dead, and quite cold, with her hands in her usual way of sleeping. I don’t suppose that she ever awoke or had any struggle. She was a loss to our family and the neighbourhood, being a real gentlewoman. My aunt Margaret was sent for, being at home, and went sending word to Dublin. My mother and I with Marcus travelled all night in a chaise from Dublin, getting home about 5 o’clock in the morning. I felt my aunt’s death very much, being fond of her.

The next death in the family was my brother William who died in Dublin in the 10th mo. 1822 – my aunt Margaret Pim died at Nahad of a paralytic affliction, in the 3rd mo. 1828, and was buried at Moate. The next death was very trying to my feelings, being that of my dearly beloved son Richard. He had the scarletina very bad in the autumn of 1827. I don’t think he ever was stout after. He was after that several years at a boarding school, and I think came home in 1832, and remained at home for about a year, being very attentive to his business, particularly up early every morning sending out the bread carts. I think it was in the Spring of 1834 that I took him to Dublin and placed him at Samuel Bewley’s shop in Dame Street. He paid a visit home that Summer and again in the Summer of 1835, which was the last time he was ever at home. It was the time when the assizes was first held in Tullamore, the 1st day before the Quarterly meeting in Moate, 9th mo. 1835. I was at the meeting at Ballymunway with Cooper Clibborn, lodged in Moate that night and returned home next morning, when I found a letter from him which he only signed saying that he was ill. I forgot whether that was the 1st account I had of his illness, perhaps the signed letter came after. However I hoped that he was getting better but had no cause for it. On 2nd day there was no post. On 3rd day perhaps it was the letter I mentioned came, but I had a letter I think from Dr. Eustace saying that he heard he was ill and went to see him, that he found him ill, but hoped he would soon be better. I waited until 4th day when another letter came when I was so uneasy about him that I went to Dublin that day on the coach, getting there in the evening, and found him very ill, but very glad to see me. From that until his death in about 12 days after I suffered as much anxiety as I ever did in the course of my life. His complaint was gastric fever. He was sometimes better but often got worse, and was at different times so delirious that it was most trying to be with him At other times he would be quite rational and sensible and would do anything he would be advised to do. I had Dr. Marsh several times to see him and at times he seemed to have hopes of him, but I never saw at any time any real amendment in him. He never could bear the light or had any relish for food. My feelings at times were so severe that even at this distance I fear to renew them.

Death of his son in 1835 in Dublin at Bewleys of Dame Street

3rd of 9th Mo., reverting again to the unpleasant subject of my son’s illness, I ought to mention that I think it was the 7th day before his death that, thinking he would not recover and seeing him in distress from illness, I took an opportunity of his being sensible and recommended him to put his trust in the Almighty under his affliction. He immediately replied that his trust was in Jesus, in a very week voice, and perhaps he was never more quite himself after. I think it was a night or two before that he was so delirious that he took me for a policeman, preventing him from getting up, which I was doing and vexed him, so that I had in great distress to leave him to the Housekeeper, a nice friend ( I don’t recollect her name ), and went to lie on the bed in great distress. But on going to him about 5 o’ clock in the morning I found him quieter and rather better. He was very ill all first day before he died, and being exhausted I lay in the room with him, listening to his rambling and talking, always supposing he was in the shop selling things, or on the Railway. While I was on the bed Dr. Marsh and Eustace were in the room. I did not speak to them, they supposing that I was asleep, but I saw plainly they had no hopes of him. When they went I got up and staid with him to the last. He was rambling the whole night as if busy selling tea and coffee in the shop, until about an hour before he died, which was about 7 o’ clock on the 2nd day morning the 5th of the 10th Mo. 1835. Often did I tell him when he understood me that when he would be better I would bring him home to Charlestown which always pleased him, it being my determination as I did not expect him to recover that I would bring his body home; and the night that he dies as I sat beside him at one side of the bed, I cold not divert myself of the idea that his dear mother was sitting at the other side of the bed leaning over him. I believe that her guardian angel was there. We got a good coffin made for him on 2nd day, Marcus [a son] and I having previously laid him out, and about 6 o’ clock in the evening we put him into a shell when I left. But after the shop was shut the shell with the body in it was brought downstairs and in the hall put into the outer coffin, and fastened down, and at 6 o’ clock in the morning a hearse was brought and the body put into it, Marcus and I in another carriage following it, and got home I think about half past 8 o’ clock, put it into the drawing room at Charlestown where it lay until 5th day when we set out at nine o’ clock, and in the course of the day laid him over my Aunt Goodbody in her grave.

I ought to mention that the Bewleys’ tea shop was not shut, as in 2nd day I saw Joseph Bewley, and as Emond Haughton was to open a tea shop on 7th day, I told Joseph Bewley that I thought they need not shut the shop if poor Richard died, that I was determined to bring his remains to Clara, and keep them there a day or two, to which he made no objection, but approved of it. But on my first coming downstairs, the shop door from the hall being open, my seeing the boys, or lads, all busy gave me such a pang that I cannot describe, and on the body being brought out and put in the hearse I had similar feelings, and never since although I have repeatedly passed the house which I did not for years, I have never looked at the shop from that time to this.

Death of Robert's mother in 1834

A prior event to the above was the death of my dear mother, who died the 16th of 11th Mo. 1834, the subject of the death of my son so occupied my thoughts at the time that I set about writing about it at once, fearing that something might prevent my ever doing it, yet there was no cause for my passing over my mother’s decease. My dear mother often paid us a visit in Clara. She was there the time, of the cholera in 1832, and again in 1833, which was the last visit she paid us – She was with us the day she was 80 years of age, being the 16thof 5th Mo. 1833, that night she was seized with extreme pain at her heart which she had several times before, but that was the most serious she ever had. I think it continued very bad for two days, and went off gradually. We all expected her death as she had a bad intermitting pulse. She fully expected herself that she was dying, but on Dr. Eustace coming on the 1st day he order her nourishment of soup of which revived her and she gradually recovered, and the 10th Mo. Following went by boat to Dublin, but was very feeble from that to her death; never could walk fast up or upstairs without great caution. She lived one year and a half after she was 80, and was clear in her intellects to the last. When she was last attacked it did not last more than half an hour until she was gone. She died the 16th of 11th Mo. 1834. On 4th day, the 19th of 11th Mo., I brought her remains down to Mountmellick, and next day she was laid in her father’s grave at Tinneel. I put her in the coffin in the evening of 3rd day, my son Richard and Marcus helping me and the former came with us about two miles out of town when he got down to return to his business and Marcus came on with me. Marcus was in Dublin sometime in the 9th Mo. And wrote to me that he went to see his Grandmother, and found her sitting for her picture, which I am glad of, as I was hard set to persuade her to do so, she having an objection to it, until I reminded her that she ought to do it for the satisfaction of her children. The last time that I saw her was about six weeks before her death, at the time of the quarterly meeting in Dublin. She remarked to me, lying in bed one morning, that she was afraid it would be very troublesome to take her body to the country. I answered her that she need not trouble herself about it, that it would be no trouble. The day that she died a letter was handed to her from me, she being in bed at the time, and called for her spectacles, but not being brought immediately she sat up in bed and read it without them.

We continue this week with Robert Goodbody's account of his life. Over the past few weeks, we have dealt with his earlier memories, his accounts of the 1798 Rebellion and details of his family life.

28th of 9th Mo. 1855. Often during this day did I think of my dear wife who died this day 31 years, after two days of severe suffering of which I hope she was not conscious.

5th of 10th Mo. This morning a little after 7 o’ clock this day 20 years my dear son Richard died. Often did I think of him last night, of the night before he died and of his incessant ramblings until a short time before he died.

Second Marriage

9th of 11th Mo. 1855. I forgot to mention that I was married a second time on the 4th of 7th Mo. 1829, to Jane Pim, daughter of Jas and Deborah Pim of Rushin, and double first cousin to my former first wife. She was of great use to me in rearing my young children, and I think a pious well minded woman, but owing to a broken down constitution she was often in very poor health. Months before she died she was in a very infirm state. She died on 6th day the 10th of 8th Mo. 1838, and was buried by my former wife on the 13th of the same month at Tinneel. Her illness at last was I think about 10 days standing.

Death of Rebecca, wife of Robert's son Lewis

29th of 11th Mo. Since I wrote last I have a severe trial by the death of dear Rebecca, my son Lewis’ wife. However for a long time I feared that she would be short-lived. She was a most sensible and agreeable woman. She is not only a sore loss to her husband and children, but to all her connexions and acquaintances. She was a particular favourite of mine, in fact I loved her as if she was my own daughter. She made a very peaceful end. I never heard of her repining at being taken, tho’ she had everything the world calls happiness: independence as regards this worlds comforts, a good husband and children., a handsome residence,a good house neatly furnished, yet she resigned all under a fell belief that she was dying, without a murmer. I may soon follow her, but while I have my understanding I can never forget her. She died a few minutes after 8 o’clock on 7th day, the 24th instant, and was buried at Tinneel on the 3rd day the 26th, having a large and respectable funeral.

Robert returns to Clara

26th of 12th Mo. Before I have written the above, I had concluded that it was right for me to give up housekeeping and come to reside with my son Lewis. I may be very small comfort to him after his late severe trial, but it is possible that my company will help him at times to not feel so solitary as he otherwise would. I left lodging in Tullamore on the evening of the 9th instant. It is more than probable that my life may be very short, but while I have my senses I hope to look to his two dear sons, I think it is a duty that I owe to their dear departed Mother.

15th of 11th Mo. 1856. Since I wrote last I have been at the yearly meeting of Dublin, and the yearly meeting of London. I ought to be thankful for enjoying good health at my time of life, and my right arm is nearly as well as ever. This day week, the 22nd. Instant, I will be 49 years married. She lived only 17 years with me, but I have always considered that it was a great blessing to me being married to her. She was a truly sensible woman.

9th of 4th Mo. 1857. I am this day 76 years old, enjoying better health than had 20 years back, with all the Lord’s mercies extended to me both in the independence of my circumstances, and in any other respect. I often think that I am not half thankful of the very least of his mercies, I think I am not worthy of. Often do I think particularly at my time of life to enjoy good health when so many others are in great suffering from ill health.

22nd. Of 11th Mo. 1857. I was this day married 50 years. I often think that I am not half thankful for the many mercies that have been pured down on me. I am in good health at present, how long it may continue it is hid from me. It is not the least of the Almighty’s mercies that I have a very good income, sufficient for all my wants, and give to those that need it.