Veronica L., a woman with an intellectual disability, died of starvation in 1961 while the recipient of a Disabled Person's Maintenance Allowance (D.P.M.A.) from the Dublin Health Authority. Her death occured after a prolonged period of deficient care, a neglect that was exacerbated by flaws in statutory welfare. During the preceding decade the state intervened in disability provision to an unprecedented degree through the expansion of institutional care and social welfare reform. Yet, these services remained characterised by a chronic pressure on resources and a reluctance to intervene in potentially neglectful family situations, which allowed cases of failing care to go unaddressed. Drawing on contemporary documents, in particular the depositions collected for the coroner's court inquest into Veronica's death, this article offers an insight into the exigencies underlying the later life of one woman with an intellectual disability. In doing so, it explores the way in which this singular case provides a distinctive avenue for better understanding the experiences of the intellectually disabled more broadly, including the nature of community care and the operation of statutory welfare during the mid twentieth century.

During the budget speech of 1830, Henry Goulburn, the chancellor of the exchequer, announced: ‘On the people of that country [Ireland] the same stamp duties will be imposed as are imposed here.’ The government planned ‘to assimilate the laws relating to the stamp duties in different parts of the empire to place the management of the whole of that branch of the revenue under the Stamp-Office in England.’ This proposal was one of several announced by Goulburn to counter the economic slump that the United Kingdom was experiencing after a number of poor harvests. Along with specific measures designed to relieve distress, the Wellington government aimed at ensuring there was no loss of revenue in order to prevent further government borrowing.

Existing evidence pertaining to Ireland’s Nine Years’ War (1594–1603) strongly lends itself to the impression that the majority of Old English Palesmen, at least those of higher social status, chose to support the English crown during this conflict rather than their co-religionist Gaelic Irish countrymen. Loyalties, however, were anything but straightforward and could depend on any number of cultural values, social concerns, and economic incentives. Nevertheless, James Fitzpiers Fitzgerald, a ‘Bastard Geraldine’ who served as sheriff of Kildare, seemed to have been driven by a genuine sense of duty to the English crown and establishment. With the outbreak of hostilities in the 1590s, Fitzpiers proved to be a devout crown servitor, risking life and limb to confront the English queen’s Irish enemies. But, in late 1598 he suddenly, and somewhat inexplicably, threw his lot in with the Irish confederacy, defying the government he had once championed. During the ensuing investigation, the Dublin administration accumulated much damning evidence against Fitzpiers, including a patriotic plea from rebel leader Hugh O’Neill which urged Fitzpiers to defend his Irish homeland from the oppressions of English Protestant rule. Yet, at the very same time, a counter case was made by Fitzpiers’s controversial English friend, Captain Thomas Lee, which argued that Fitzpiers’s actions were more loyal than anyone could have imagined. Through an examination of Fitzpiers’s perplexing case, this paper will explore the complicated nature of allegiances in 1590s Ireland and how loyalties were not always what they seemed.

The regulation and taxation of Irish trade under the Tudors have strong but neglected claims on the attention of the Irish historian. Their obvious relevance to the economic activities of the country and, in particular, its seaborne trade will only incidentally be discussed here. Dr Longfield’s pioneer account of Anglo-Irish trade has at length been followed up by more systematic explorations of her chief sources, the English and Welsh port books and customs accounts, and a definitive treatment of this sector is surely not far distant. Even here, however, where an enviable amount of solid information is available—despite their incompleteness and familiar problems of interpreting the port books—no one seems to have asked why Irish historians have to use non-Irish sources.

Over the last decade, network analysis has developed as an approach within digital humanities as a wider array of tools has become available to humanities scholars, and these approaches are now beginning to make an impact on the disciplines of history and English. This article presents an overview of different ways of approaching network analysis. It assesses recent projects to see how they accounted for gender in their datasets and what can be learnt about early modern women from these projects. It then looks at how projects in Ireland are engaging with network analysis, discussing the approaches used by RECIRC and introducing MACMORRIS's analysis of the Dictionary of Irish biography (D.I.B.) and the Bardic Poetry Database (B.P.D.), looking at how the latter is attempting to overcome the unconscious gender bias inherent in the D.I.B.'s selection of early modern lives from the period between 1541 and 1660. Finally, it points to some of the wider issues we as scholars face when engaging with this methodology, such as access to the required training and collaboration, arguing that while these are not unique challenges to the study of gender history in Ireland, they are important debates that can enhance scholarship in the field.

In attempting a study of local government in Ireland at the beginning of the Tudor period, it must be stated that only very tentative conclusions can be made as to its nature and effectiveness. This is due on the one hand to lack of materials and difficulty in interpreting what there are, and on the other to the absence of detailed studies of Anglo-Irish feudalism and of Irish society in the later medieval period.

In theory, the royal administration, established in Dublin and organised on English lines, was competent to provide law and government for the whole island. In practice, its effectiveness diminished successively in four groups of territories.

St. Patrick, in his account of that famous vision by which he was called back to Ireland (Confessio 23), mentions people qui erant iuxta siluam Focluti quae est prope mare occidentale. By Tírechán and the author of the Tripartite Life this locality has been identified with the ‘ wood of Fochloth (Fochlad) ’ in Connacht, a place-name commonly believed to survive in modern Foghill (Fochoill) near Killala, Tirawley, co. Mayo. This view has been taken for an established tradition until recent times. Newport White and Bury were the first to find difficulties in reconciling the silua Focluti of St. Patrick's vision with the tradition placing his Irish captivity near Slemish in the northeast. Many attempts to solve the problem have since been made.

The relationship between constitutional and advanced or physical-force nationalism in nineteenth-century Ireland was always tense and intimate. Both traditions professed to repudiate the stated aims and strategies of the other, while at the same time often co-operating across the apparent ideological and organisational divides. The Fenians worked with Isaac Butt’s early home rule movement, while the New Departures of the late 1870s facilitated I.R.B. involvement in the Land League and the home rule movement, proving crucial to the emergent leadership of Charles Stewart Parnell. Although this ideological flexibility was often motivated by a self-interested desire to be associated with influential organisations and personalities, it also arose from the realisation that the ideal strategy was currently inappropriate. The essence of the New Departure lay in allowing physical-force men to join the agrarian agitation of the Land League on the understanding that this did not compromise their separatist ideals. Consequently, the self-identification of separatists at the time of the 1916 rising as belonging to an immemorial tradition, consecrated by the blood of martyrs, needs to be set against both the contingency of political engagement and the lack of precision as to the form of state a separate Ireland might take.

The year 1842 was one of preparation for the revival of the movement for repeal of the act of union. O'Connell had been elected lord mayor of Dublin in November 1841, and he allowed the Repeal Association to mark time during his tenure of office. The year was not regarded as wasted, however, as his conduct as mayor tended to increase his popularity, and ensured that he would be able to commence his campaign in the following year with a more solid backing of public opinion. It was during this year also that Davis, Duffy and Dillon first came together and made their plans for launching a new nationalist newspaper. They were all members of the Repeal Association, but only one of them (Duffy) had any extensive experience of journalism. The Nation newspaper first began to appear in October 1842.

Ireland’s uses of knowledge of the diaspora, much matured since the 1950s, now provide two master images from which to approach it: diversity and cohesion. On 2 February 1995 President Mary Robinson pinpointed its diversity as embodying the multifaceted nature of native Irish identities, and as a makeweight in domestic argument and experiment as to the recognition and acceptance of those identities. In March 1998 President Mary McAleese spoke of ‘our global Irish family’; she accepted such diversity, but sought its reintegration in a master image of cohesion, one obtaining both at home and abroad. The new Article 2 of the Irish constitution states that ‘The Irish nation cherishes its special affinity with people of Irish ancestry living abroad who share its cultural identity and heritage.’

In each case, desired standards are merged with claimed realities as to the diaspora. But any such emphasis whether on cohesion or diversity among the overseas Irish matches a growing body of work on the diaspora itself, much of it by the scholars within those communities. Critical work on this scale has not appeared before now. In the past collective work of this kind typically consisted of reprints and dissertations. One might question whether this scholarship answers the external burdens placed upon it.

The manpower alone here involved would suggest so. Over two hundred writers produce the Irish diaspora subjects in the four works here reviewed. And two of the editors, O’Sullivan, born in Kilmallock in 1944, a youthful migrant to Britain, and Glazier, an adult migrant to America, both epitomise the curiosity and enterprise of the newer emigrant scholars.

The enactment, by the Irish parliament of 1494-5, of the measure later known as Poynings' Law had far-reaching effects upon the whole subsequent course of Irish parliamentary history to 1782. Poynings' Law was the foundation-stone of a peculiar system of legislative procedure which made it impossible for the Irish parliament to develop on parallel lines with the parliament of England. It prescribed conditions to be observed by the Irish executive, with regard to the summoning and proceedings of the legislature, which were seldom satisfactory to both parties at the same time, and resulted in protracted attempts by each in turn to have the law altered in accordance with changes in their own character, circumstances and interests. The function and interpretation of the law passed through a number of distinct phases, and it was only in the later phases that it came to be regarded as a hated symbol of the subordination of the Irish parliament.

The modification of the Cromwellian land settlement in Ireland which followed the restoration of the Stuart monarchy in 1660 was regulated by two acts of parliament, one familiarly known as the act of settlement of 1662, the other as the act of explanation of 1665. They became the principal legal instruments upon which land ownership in the country was to rest for two centuries.

The act of settlement was the statutory version, with the major addition of a preamble, of the so-called ‘Gracious declaration’ of 30 November 1660, a royal proclamation which enunciated the broad principles upon which the settlement was to be based. In its statutory form these principles were: the vesting in the king, as trustee for the purposes of the act, of all land confiscated since 23 October 1641 as a consequence of the rebellion, with the general exception of the land held on that date by the church and Trinity College, Dublin; the general confirmation to the adventurers and Cromwellian soldiers of the land they held on 7 May 1659; and the restoration of various classes of dispossessed proprietors, chiefly those catholics who could prove, before the commissioners appointed to execute the terms of the act, that they were innocent of having participated in the rebellion. Those found innocent were to be restored to their estates immediately without having to wait until the Cromwellian planters had first been ‘reprised’ (i.e. compensated) with land of equal value.