# Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Mathew, Theobald

​MATHEW, THEOBALD (1790–1856), apostle of temperance, was the fourth son of James Mathew and his wife Anne, daughter of George Whyte of Cappawhyte, in co. Tipperary. The father acted as agent for his kinsman, the first Lord Llandaff, and resided at the family seat, Thomastown Castle, near Cashel, where Theobald was born on 10 Oct. 1790. The boy was deeply religious, and at an early age resolved to become a priest. He was first sent to the catholic academy at Kilkenny, then under Patrick Magrath, whence he passed in 1807 to the college of Maynooth. He left, after a short stay, to join the small convent of Franciscans of the capuchin order or grey friars in Dublin, and having passed through the usual noviciate was ordained by Archbishop Murray in 1841.
The Irish Franciscans had suffered heavily in the penal times, and the order in the beginning of the century was represented by a few priests scattered through the towns of catholic Ireland. The special mission of the followers of St. Francis is to minister to the needs of the poor in towns:
Bernardus valles, colles Benedictus amabat, Oppida Franciscus.
Shortly after he was ordained, Father Mathew was sent to Cork to take charge of a small chapel known as the ‘Little Friary.’ The church was hidden away among narrow lanes, the congregation was small and very poor, there was no endowment, and the accommodation for the priest in charge was of the humblest description. The poverty of the city and surrounding country was deplorable. There was no poor law, and the charity of the well-to-do was constantly taxed to save the destitute from starvation. For the education of catholics there was no state aid, and individual effort accomplished little. Amidst so much that was discouraging the young priest set to work patiently and courageously. He soon won the confidence and affection of the people of Cork. His success as a preacher was remarkable. Though possessing few oratorical gifts, he was master of the art of pathetic exhortation. But his high character was the source of his chief influence. A resolute will and an impetuous temper were well held in subjection beneath his gentle and courteous manner.
Mathew opened a free school for boys, whom he taught himself, and it was soon crowded. He also established a school for poor girls, and induced many catholic ladies to assist him by taking classes. To deal with the wretchedness about him he formed a society on the plan of those of St. Vincent de Paul, of young men of respectable position, who visited the poor and distributed alms.
From the strife of politicians and religious controversialists Father Mathew personally kept aloof. He was fond of the saying, ‘We should bear with each other as God bears with us all.’ What was said of him at a later period was true during his whole career. ‘He is almost the only man that I have met with in Ireland,’ says Thackeray, in his ‘Sketch Book,’ ‘who, speaking of public matters, did not talk as a partisan. It was impossible on hearing him to know, but from previous acquaintance with his character, whether he was whig, tory, catholic or protestant.’ He lost no opportunity of setting an example of forbearance. Some deplorable quarrels had taken place at the graveside, from the claims of a few too zealous clergymen of the establishment to read the burial service at the funerals of catholics. The difficulty was promptly met by Father Mathew, who dedicated a cemetery to the use of all denominations. In the centre he raised a plain cross, beneath which he now lies. He commenced the building of a church for his order, which remained unfinished at his death. It was recently completed in honour of the centenary of his birth.
After labouring for nearly a quarter of a century in the southern city, inspiring universal confidence among his fellow citizens, he was appealed to by some of his nonconformist friends to place himself at the head of their temperance society. After a long interval of doubt he agreed, and on 10 April 1838 signed the pledge of total abstinence, using the characteristic words, ‘Here goes—in the name of the Lord.’
The new doctrine was accepted with enthusiasm by his fellow countrymen. The people of the south flocked in thousands to Cork to become his disciples. The strange influence he exercised over others was regarded by devout catholics as a divine endowment.
He was invited to visit the principal cities ​of Ireland, and even in the north he was received with respect, and with entire confidence in his sincerity and singleness of purpose. A marvellous reform was made in the habits of his disciples, who numbered, it was said, nearly half the adult population of Ireland. The duties on Irish spirits fell from 1,434,573l. in 1839 to 852,418l. in 1844. Statistics showed an extraordinary diminution in crime. The judges in their charges attributed the unusual peace of the country to temperance. At the summer assizes in Cork in 1844, and in the following spring assize, the calendar contained the name of one prisoner.
In 1843 Father Mathew came to London. His meetings, despite some opposition from roughs, were held successfully. Society offered its homage. He met the members of the administration, and was treated with great kindness by Sir Robert Peel. ‘H. B.’ (John Doyle [q. v.]) bore testimony to his popularity by one of his famous sketches, where the good friar appears administering the pledge to ‘a rare batch’ of all the leading people of the time.
Mrs. Carlyle, in a letter to her husband of 9 August 1843, thus describes one of the meetings she attended (Froude, Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle, i. 220–4): ‘I found my youthful enthusiasm rise higher and higher as I got on the ground and saw the thousands of people all hushed into awful silence, with not a single exception that I saw—the only religious meeting I have ever seen in Cockneyland which had not plenty of scoffers at its heels. … Father Mathew took me to the front of the platform to see him give the pledge. From one to two hundred took it, and all the tragedies I have ever seen, melted into one, could not have given me such emotion as that scene did. There were faces of both men and women that will haunt me while I live; faces exhibiting such concentrated wretchedness, making, you would have said, its last deadly struggle with the powers of darkness. … When I went to bed I could not sleep; the faces I had seen haunted me, and Father Mathew's smile.’ The pride and happiness of Irishmen at the change in the national ways were unbounded, and the hope of future prosperity for a people, ‘sober, regenerate, and free,’ was universal. But a great calamity was impending—the famine—a disaster destined to check the social regeneration of the people, to overwhelm the Old Ireland for which Father Mathew had laboured; and to bring into existence a new country which should know him only by tradition.
He saw early the misery that was coming, and bent all his energies to save the lives of the peasantry. His appeals for help to English and American friends were most generously met. The government was guided much by his advice, and after the second year of dearth few deaths were directly traceable to starvation, but meanwhile the loss of life had been appalling. In the midst of the labours which the famine brought upon him, the great honour of his life was offered him. He was named by the clergy of the diocese for the vacant bishopric of Cork. The choice was not ratified by the Vatican. He was perhaps considered in Rome to have erred from an excess of the love of his neighbour. A pension was granted to him in the same year by the kind interposition of Lord John Russell; this, together with a public subscription, relieved him of liabilities incurred in organising his temperance associations, and founding temperance clubs and libraries throughout the country.
In 1848 it became apparent that he was overworked. He disregarded symptoms which showed that rest was needed, and suffered from an attack of paralysis, and though he seemed to have speedily recovered, he was never restored to his former vigour. But his activity of mind and love of his work remained the same. He had had pressing invitations to follow his flying countrymen to America, and, against the anxious advice of his relatives and friends, he determined to go. He reached New York in July 1849, and was received by the mayor and citizens as their guest. He was invited to Washington, and by a resolution unanimously carried in congress he was admitted to a seat in the floor of the house. The same honour was paid him in the senate. He travelled to all the principal cities. He preached in the catholic churches to large congregations, and afterwards held his temperance meetings. His strength was failing, but he was sustained by the enthusiasm for doing good, which never left him to the end of his days. The memory of his labours in the United States is preserved in numerous societies called after his name.
A second illness, more severe than the first, compelled him to yield, and he was at length prevailed upon to come home. He returned to Ireland in 1851. During his short stay in Dublin on his way to Cork, he was received with much kindness by Archbishop Cullen, who informed him that it had been proposed in Rome to raise him to the rank of a bishop. But his health rendered the discharge of any active duties of the episcopacy impossible, and on this ground he was allowed to decline the honour. In Cork he was welcomed ​with all the old warmth, but he had become aged and enfeebled, and though willing as ever to labour, he was compelled gradually to relinquish all active employment. He passed the greater part of the following years with his brother Charles who lived near Cork, and to whom and to whose family he was most tenderly attached. He died at Queenstown on 8 Dec. 1856. The citizens of Cork erected to his memory a statue, which is one of the most successful works of his countryman Foley, and his centenary was celebrated in 1890 by the same community. Another statue, erected to his memory in Sackville or O'Connell Street, Dublin, was unveiled on 8 Feb. 1893. A portrait by E. D. Leahy is in the National Portrait Gallery, London.
Father Mathew was of middle height, well formed, and remarkably handsome. His complexion was pale, with hair dark and abundant, and eyes of the softest blue. His expression, somewhat stern and sombre in repose, was remarkable, when animated, for its gentleness and sweetness.
[A life by John Francis Maguire was published in 1863 (London, 8vo), 2nd edit. 1864 (New York, 1864). Other biographies are by James Birmingham (Dublin, 1840), by S. R. Wells (New York, 1867), and F. J. Mathew (London, 1890). A life in French by J. H. Olivier appeared at Bar-le-Duc, 1878, and one in Dutch by C. S. A. van Scheltema.]
J. C. M.