1882 was part of a period of political and social upheaval in Ireland known as the Land War, sparked by poor harvests, falling agricultural prices, and the long-standing abuses of the landlord system. The Irish National Land League, founded by Michael Davitt and led by Charles Stewart Parnell, was orchestrating a resistance campaign against landlords, including rent strikes and boycotts. The Land War’s goals were the “Three Fs”: fair rents, fixity of tenure, and free sale for tenant farmers. Protests were often met by evictions, civil unrest, and occasional violence.
On August 17, 1882, a shocking crime occurred in the remote village of Maamtrasna, a small, tight-knit rural community straddling the border of Galway and Mayo. Five members of the Joyce family were brutally murdered in their home: John Joyce, his wife Bridget, his mother Margaret, and two of his children, Michael and Peggy. Only young Patsy Joyce, age 9, survived the attack but was seriously injured.
The horrific nature of the crime quickly gained the attention of the British press, who often viewed the rural Irish as barbarians. British authorities moved swiftly in response to the outrage and to validate their authority. They arrested ten local men, including Myles Joyce, in Irish Maolra Seoighe , (a first cousin to the victims), a father of five in his 40s.
From the outset, Myles Joyce’s trial was tainted by injustice and prejudice. Under the Prevention of Crime (Ireland) Act 1882, the trial was moved from Galway to Dublin—a world far removed from Maamtrasna. The ‘Prevention of Crimes Act’ was instituted as the Crown could not get convictions under their unjust laws from Irish juries. Joyce’s jury in Dublin was drawn from the city’s middle-class Protestant population, who were unsympathetic to rural Irish Catholics. The prosecution deliberately manipulated the jury selection process. The prosecutor’s notes from the trial show a “C” next to the names of potential jurors identified as Catholic and used challenges to exclude them to ensure a jury that would likely convict. These practices, known as “jury packing,” rigged the trial against Myles and his co-defendants.
Yet the greatest travesty of justice was the language barrier. Irish was not permitted in Irish courts under British rule. Myles Joyce only spoke Irish speaker and could not speak or understand English. While an interpreter of sorts was present, a Royal Irish Constabulary Officer who spoke Irish, he spoke the Ulster and not Connacht. His flawed translations were for the benefit of the English-speaking Judge and jury only; the officer was not permitted to translate the English portions of the trial for Joyce, leaving Joyce unable to understand the proceedings or participate effectively in his own defense.
Two of the accused, Anthony Philbin and Thomas Casey, turned Queen’s evidence against their co-defendants in exchange for leniency. Their testimony was later revealed to be both unreliable and scripted by the prosecution. At the same time, the court disallowed the testimony of young Patsy Joyce, the sole surviving eyewitness, which could have significantly weakened the prosecution’s case.
Despite proclaiming his innocence throughout the trial, Myles Joyce was found guilty along with two other men, Patrick Joyce and Patrick Casey. All three were sentenced to death. With the certainty of death and the imminent judgment of God before them, Joyce and Casey admitted their own guilt shortly before their execution but emphatically proclaimed Myles Joyce’s innocence. “It is the greatest murder in Ireland that ever was if he [Myles Joyce] is hanged,” one wrote in English, and both noted that guilty men, including witnesses for the state, remained free. The statements were sent to the lord lieutenant but to no avail with a reply “The law must take its course”, with no note of justice.
On December 15, 1882, Myles Joyce was hanged at Galway Gaol. To his last breath, he proclaimed his innocence, “Níl mé ciontach,” in a language that his executioners and the gawking crowd could not understand. In 2018, 136 years after his execution, Myles Joyce was granted a posthumous pardon by Irish President Michael D. Higgins. Sadly, speaking Irish in the north of Ireland, as guaranteed by the Goody Friday agreement, is still challenging to this day. Despite binding commitments, Britain has failed to deliver an Irish language act and the parity of esteem it would guarantee. The ghost of Myles Joyce still haunts us.