Title: The Life Story of an Old Rebel
Author: Denvir, John
Language: English
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THE LIFE STORY OF AN OLD REBEL


BY JOHN DENVIR

AUTHOR OF "THE IRISH IN BRITAIN" "THE BRANDONS" ETC.



DUBLIN SEALY, BRYERS & WALKER 86 MIDDLE ABBEY STREET 1910

[Illustration: John Denvir]


CONTENTS.

CHAP.


I.--Early Recollections--"Coming Over" from Ireland

II.--Distinguished Irishmen--"The Nation" News-paper--"The Hibernians"

III.--Ireland Revisited

IV.--O'Connell in Liverpool--Terence Bellew MacManus and the Repeal
Hall--The Great Irish Famine

V.--The "No-Popery" Mania--The Tenant League--The Curragh Camp

VI.--The Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood--Escape of James
Stephens--Projected Raid on Chester Castle--Corydon the Informer

VII.--The Rising of 1867--Arrest and Rescue of Kelly and Deasy--The
Manchester Martyrdom

VIII.--A Digression--T.D. Sullivan--A National Anthem--The Emerald
Minstrels--"The Spirit of the Nation"

IX.--A Fenian Conference at Paris--The Revolvers for the Manchester
Rescue--Michael Davitt sent to Penal Servitude

X.--Rescue of the Military Fenians

XI.--The Home Rule Movement

XII.--The Franco-Prussian War--An Irish Ambulance Corps--The French
Foreign Legion

XIII.--The Home Rule Confederation of Great Britain

XIV.--Biggar and Parnell--The "United Irishman"--The O'Connell Centenary

XV.--Home Rule in Local Elections--Parnell succeeds Butt as President
of the Irish Organisation in Great Britain

XVI.--Michael Davitt's Return from Penal Servitude--Parnell and the
"Advanced" Organisation

XVII.--Blockade Running--Attempted Suppression of "United
Ireland"--William O'Brien and his Staff in Jail--How Pat Egan kept the
flag flying

XVIII.--Patrick Egan

XIX.--General Election of 1885--Parnell a Candidate for Exchange
Division--Retires in favour of O'Shea--T.P. O'Connor elected for
Scotland Division of Liverpool

XX.--Gladstone's "Flowing Tide"

XXI.--The "Times" Forgeries Commission

XXII.--Disruption of the Irish Party--Home Rule carried in the
Commons--Unity of Parliamentary Party Restored--Mr. John Redmond becomes
Leader

XXIII.--The Gaelic Revival--Thomas Davis--Charles Gavan
Duffy--Anglo-Irish Literature--The Irish Drama, Dramatists, and Actors

XXIV.--"How is Old Ireland and how does She Stand?"



~THE LIFE STORY OF AN OLD REBEL~

       *       *       *       *       *



CHAPTER I.

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS--"COMING OVER" FROM IRELAND.


I owe both the title of this book and the existence of the book itself
to the suggestion of friends. I suppose a man of 76 may be called "old,"
although I have by no means given up the idea that I can still be of use
to my country.

And a Rebel? Yes! Anything of the nature of injustice or oppression has
always stirred me to resentment, and--is it to be wondered at?--most of
all when the victims of that injustice and oppression have been my own
people. And why not? If there were no rebels against wrong-doing,
wrong-doing would prosper. To an Irishman, who is a fighter by
temperament, and a fighter by choice against those in high places, life
is sure to provide plenty of excitement; and that, no doubt, is why my
friends have thought my recollections worth printing. The curious thing
is that my share in the struggle for Irish self-government has been
almost entirely what I might call outpost work, for I have lived all my
life in England.

Indeed, it seemed but a stroke of good luck that I was born in Ireland
at all. My father (John, son of James Denvir, of Ballywalter, Lecale)
came to England in the early part of the last century, and settled in
Liverpool, where my eldest brother was born. It was during a brief
period, when our family returned to Ireland, that I and a younger
brother were born there. My father was engaged for about three years as
clerk of the works for the erection of a castle for Sir Francis
Macnaghten, near Bushmills, County Antrim. This must be one of the least
Catholic parts of Ireland, for there was no resident priest, and I had
to be taken a long distance to be christened. There was a decent
Catholic workman at the castle, James MacGowan, who was my god-father,
and my Aunt Kitty had to come all the way from "our own place" in the
County Down to be my god-mother.

Brought to England, my earliest remembrances are of Liverpool, which has
a more compact and politically important Irish population than any other
town in Great Britain.

Anyone who has mixed much among our fellow-countrymen in England,
Scotland and Wales knows that, generally, the children and grandchildren
of Irish-born parents consider themselves just as much Irish as those
born on "the old sod" itself. No part of our race has shown more
determination and enthusiasm in the cause of Irish nationality. As a
rule the Irish of Great Britain have been well organised, and, during
the last sixty years and more, have been brought into constant contact
with a host of distinguished Irishmen--including the leaders of the
constitutional political organisations--from Daniel O'Connell to John
Redmond.

I have taken an active part in the various Irish movements of my time,
and it so happens that, while I know so little personally of Ireland
itself, there are few, if any, living Irishmen who have had such
experience, from actual personal contact with them, as I have had of our
people in every part of Great Britain. As will be seen, too, in the
course of these recollections, circumstances have brought me into
intimate connection with most of the Irish political leaders.

My father came to England in one of the sloops in which our people used
to "come over" in the old days. They sometimes took a week in crossing.
The steamers which superseded them, though an immense improvement as
regards speed, had often less accommodation for the deck passengers than
for the cattle they brought over.

Most of the Irish immigration to Liverpool came through the Clarence
Dock, where the steamers used to land our people from all parts. Since
the Railway Company diverted a good deal of the Irish traffic through
the Holyhead route, there are not so many of these steamers coming to
Liverpool as formerly.

The first object that used to meet the eyes of those who had just "come
over," as they looked across the Clarence Dock wall, was an effigy of
St. Patrick, with a shamrock in his hand, as if welcoming them from "the
old sod." This was placed high upon the wall of a public house kept by
a retired Irish pugilist, Jack Langan. In the thirties and forties of
the last century, up to 1846, when he died, leaving over £20,000 to his
children, Langan's house was a very popular resort of Irishmen, more
particularly as, besides being a decent, warm-hearted, open-handed man,
he was a strong supporter of creed and country.

I am old enough to remember hearing Mass in what was an interesting
relic in Liverpool of the Penal days. This was the old building known to
our people as "Lumber Street Chapel." Of course, the present Protestant
Church of St. Nicholas (known as "the old church") is a Catholic
foundation. Lumber Street chapel was not, however, the first of our
places of worship built during the Penal days, for the Jesuits had a
small chapel not far off, erected early in the eighteenth century, but
destroyed by a No-Popery mob in 1746. St. Mary's, Lumber Street, too,
was originally a Jesuit mission, but, in 1783, it was handed over to the
Benedictines, who have had charge of it ever since. Father John Price,
S.J., built a chapel in Sir Thomas's Buildings in 1788. I can recollect
this building since my earliest days, but Mass was never said in it
during my time.

Lancashire is the only part of England where there are any great number
of the native population who have always kept the faith. I once spent a
few weeks in one of these Catholic districts. My employer had an
alteration to make in the house of a gentleman at Lydiate, near
Ormskirk. I used to come home to Liverpool for the Sundays, but for the
rest of the week I had lodgings in the house of a Catholic family at
Lydiate.

There was an old ruin, which they called Lydiate Abbey, but I found it
was the chapel of St. Catherine, erected in the fifteenth century. The
priest of the mission had charge of the chapel which, though unroofed,
was the most perfect ecclesiastical ruin in Catholic hands in South
Lancashire. During the time I was at Lydiate there came a Holiday of
Obligation, when I heard Mass in the house of a Catholic farmer named
Rimmer. This was a fine old half-timbered building of Elizabethan days,
and here, all through the Penal times, Mass had been kept up, a priest
to say it being always in hiding somewhere in the district.

The priest in charge of Lydiate at the time I was there told me he was
collecting for a regular church or chapel, and hoped soon to make a
commencement of the building. Some years later he was able to do so. Our
church choir at Copperas Hill, Liverpool, was then considered one of the
best in the diocese. The choirmaster and organist, John Richardson, was
a distinguished composer of Catholic church music, and held in such high
esteem that, for any important celebration, he could always secure the
services of the chief members of the musical profession in and about
Liverpool. In this way, on one occasion Miss Santley came to help us.
She was accompanied by her brother, then a boy, who has since risen to
the highest position in the musical world--the eminent baritone, Sir
Charles Santley.

St. Nicholas' was, as it is yet, the pro-Cathedral of the diocese, and
whenever a new church had to be opened, or there was any important
ceremonial anywhere in Lancashire, our choir was generally invited. In
this way I was delighted to go to the opening of the new church at
Lydiate, so that I was taking part in the third stage of the Catholic
history of the diocese--having said a prayer in the old ruin, and
attended Mass in Rimmer's, and now assisting at the solemn High Mass at
the opening of the Church of our Lady, not far from the old chapel of
St. Catherine.

At the time I went to Mass in Lumber Street Chapel, Liverpool, which is
nearly 70 years since, there were but four other _chapels_, as they were
generally called then, in the town--Copperas Hill (St. Nicholas'), Seel
Street (St. Peter's), St. Anthony's and St. Patrick's. It must have been
a custom acquired in the Penal days to call the older Catholic places of
worship rather after the names of the streets in which they were
situated than of the saint to whom they were dedicated. During the
Famine years the bishops and clergy must have found it extremely
difficult to provide for the tremendous influx of our people. I have
seen them crowded out into the chapel yards and into the open streets;
satisfied if they could get even a glimpse of the inside of the sacred
building through an open window. I see by the Catholic Directory there
are at the time I now write thirty-nine churches and chapels in
Liverpool. The schools have increased in a like proportion.

The progress in numbers, wealth and influence of the Irish people may
be pretty well marked by the gradual increase in the number of churches
and schools, which have been built for the most part by the Irish and
their descendants. All honour to the noble-hearted, hard-handed toilers
who have contributed to such work, and greater glory still to the humble
men who, after a hard week's work in a ship's hold at the docks, or
perhaps in the "jigger loft" of a warehouse eight stories high, turn
out every Sunday morning to act as "collectors," and go in pairs from
door to door, one with the book and the other with the bag in hand, to
raise the means of erecting the noble churches and schools that
everywhere meet our view in Liverpool to-day.

With regard to the social position our people occupy in Liverpool, there
have been many Irishmen who have come well to the front in the race of
life, some of whom have occupied the foremost positions in connection
with the public life of the town. On the other hand; a large number of
our fellow-countrymen in Liverpool are by no means in that enviable
condition. Many of them have set out from Ireland, intending to go to
America, but, their little means failing them, have been obliged to
remain in Liverpool. Here they considered themselves fortunate if they
met someone from the same part of the country as themselves to give them
a helping hand, for it is a fine trait in the Irish character--and
"over here in England" the trait has not been lost--that, however poor,
they are always ready to befriend what seems to them a still poorer
neighbour. Those who have lived here some time are glad to see someone
from their "own place," and, amid the squalor of an English city, the
imaginative Celt--as he listens to the gossip about the changes, the
marriages, and the deaths that have taken place since he left "home
"--for a brief moment lives once more upon "the old sod," and sees
visions of the little cabin by the wood side where dwelt those he loved,
of the mountain chapel where he worshipped, of a bright-eyed Irish girl
beloved in the golden days of youth. These and a host of other
associations of the past come floating back upon his memory, as he hears
the tidings brought by Terence, or Michael, or Maurya, who has just
"come over." It often so happens that, from the very goodness of the
Irish heart, the newcomers are frequently drawn into the same miserable
mode of life as the friends who have come to England before them may
have fallen into.

Irish intellect and Irish courage have in thousands of cases brought our
people to their proper place in the social scale, but it is only too
often the case that adverse circumstances compel the great bulk of them
to have recourse to the hardest, the most precarious, and the worst paid
employments to be found in the British labour market.

In the large towns, in the poorer streets in which our people live, a
stranger would be struck by the swarms of children, and of an evening,
at the number of grown-up people sitting on the doorsteps of their
wretched habitations. John Barry once told me that a friend of his
asked one of these how they could live in such places? "Because," was
the reply, "we live so much _out_ of them." The answer showed, at any
rate, that their lot was borne cheerfully.

Nevertheless, there are Irishmen too--men who know how to keep what they
have earned--who, by degrees, get into the higher circles of the
commercial world, so that I have seen among the merchant princes "on
'Change" in Liverpool men who, themselves, or whose fathers before them,
commenced life in the humblest avocations.

Liverpool has, on the whole, been a "stony-hearted stepmother" to its
Irish colony, which largely built its granite sea-walls, and for many
years humbly did the laborious work on which the huge commerce of the
port rested. But, perhaps, in years to come Liverpool will realise the
value of the wealth of human brains and human hearts which it held for
so long unregarded or despised in its midst.



CHAPTER II.

DISTINGUISHED IRISHMEN--"THE NATION" NEWSPAPER--"THE HIBERNIANS."


I have met, as I have said elsewhere, most of the Irish political
leaders of my time in Liverpool, but I will always remember with what
pleasure I listened to a distinguished Irishman of another type, Samuel
Lover, when he was travelling with an entertainment consisting of
sketches from his own works and selections from his songs. Few men were
more versatile than Lover, for he was a painter, musician, composer,
novelist, poet, and dramatist. When I saw him in one of the public halls
he sang his own songs, told his own stories, and was his own
accompanist.

His was one of a series of performances, very popular in Liverpool for
many years, called the "Saturday Evening Concerts." He was a little man,
with what might be called something of a "Frenchified" style about him,
but having with it all a bright eye and thoroughly Irish face which,
with all his bodily movements, displayed great animation. I can readily
believe his biographers, who say he excelled in all the arts he
cultivated, for his was a most charming entertainment.

Lover undoubtedly had patriotism of a kind, and some of his songs show
it. It certainly was not up to the mark of the "Young Irelanders," one
of whom attacked him on one occasion, when he made the clever retort
that "the fount from which _he_ drew his patriotism was a more genuine
source than a fount of Irish type"--alluding to the plentiful use of the
Gaelic characters in "The Spirit of the Nation," the world-famed
collection of songs by the Young Ireland contributors to the "Nation"
newspaper. There are passages in Lover's novel of "Rory O'More" and his
"He Would be a Gentleman" that show he was a sincere lover of his
country. I agree in the main with what the "Nation" said of him in
1843--"Though he often fell into ludicrous exaggerations and burlesques
in describing Irish life, there is a good national spirit running
through the majority of his works, for which he has not received due
credit."

One of his stories, "Rory O'More," achieved universal popularity also as
a play, a song and an air. In it there is a passage which, when I first
read it, I looked upon as an exaggeration, and as somewhat reflecting
upon the dignity of a great national movement like that of the United
Irishmen. Lover brings his hero, Rory, into somewhat questionable
surroundings in a Munster town--intended for Cork or some other
seaport--to meet a French emissary. One would think that a struggle for
the freedom of Ireland should be carried on amongst the most lofty
surroundings. But I found in after life that the incidents described by
Lover were not so exaggerated as might be supposed, for, as "necessity
has no law," during a later revolutionary struggle we had often to meet
in strange and unromantic places, as I shall describe later, for most
important projects.

Lover's wit was spontaneous, and bubbled over in his ordinary
conversation with friends. An English lady friend, deeply interested in
Ireland, once said to him--"I believe I was intended for an Irishwoman."
Lover gallantly replied--"Cross over to Ireland and they will swear you
were intended for an Irishman."

A famous Irishman, whom I saw in Liverpool when I was a boy, was the
Apostle of Temperance, Father Mathew.

At this time he visited many centres of Irishmen in Great Britain, and
administered the pledge of total abstinence from intoxicating drink to
many thousands of his fellow-countrymen. In London alone over 70,000
took the pledge. As in Ireland, this brought about a great social
revolution. The temperance movement certainly helped O'Connell's Repeal
agitation, which was in its full flood about this time.

My remembrance of Father Mathew was that of a man of portly figure,
rather under than above the middle height, with a handsome, pleasant
face. He had a fine powerful voice, which could be heard at the furthest
extremity of his gatherings, which often numbered several thousands. As
he gave out the words of the pledge to abstain, with the Divine
assistance, from all intoxicating liquors, he laid great emphasis on the
word "liquors," pronouncing the last syllable of the word with almost
exaggerated distinctness. After this he would go round the ring of those
kneeling to take the pledge, and put round the neck of each the ribbon
with the medal attached.

I ought to remember his visit to Liverpool, for I took the pledge from
him three times during his stay in the town.

My mother took the whole family, and, wherever he was--at St. Patrick's,
or in a great field on one side of Crown Street, or at St.
Anthony's--there she was with her family. She was a woman with the
strong Irish faith in the supernatural, and in the power of God and His
Church, that can "move mountains." A younger brother of mine had a
running in his foot which the doctors could not cure. She determined to
take Bernard to Father Mathew and get him to lay his hands on her boy.

At St. Patrick's, with her children kneeling around her, she asked the
good Father to touch her son. He, no doubt thinking it would be
presumptuous on his part to claim any supernatural gift, passed on
without complying with her request. Father Mathew's next gathering was
in the Crown Street fields. I was a boy of about nine years, attending
Copperas Hill schools. Mr. Connolly, who was in charge, was a very good
master, but there was nothing very Irish in his teaching. Some idea of
this may be formed when I mention that--though there were not a dozen
boys in the school who were not Irish or of Irish extraction--the first
map of Ireland I ever saw was on the back of one of O'Connell's Repeal
cards.

It was not until the Christian Brothers came, a few years afterwards,
that this was changed. I shall always be grateful to that noble body of
men, not only for the religious but for the national training they gave.
We had Brothers Thornton and Swan--the latter since the Superior of the
Order in Ireland.

Under them we not only had a good map of Ireland, but they taught us, in
our geography lessons, the correct Irish pronunciation of the names of
places, such as (spelling phonetically) "Carrawn Thooal," "Croogh
Phaudhrig," and similar words.

But our old master, Mr. Connolly, was a good man too, according to his
lights. Hearing of Father Mathew's visit, he asked how many of the boys
would go to Crown Street to "take the pledge"--their parents being
willing? Out of some 250 boys there were about a dozen who did not hold
up their hands.

It is unnecessary for me to say that my mother was there again with her
afflicted boy and the rest of her children, and again she pleaded in
vain. She was a courageous woman, with great force of character--and a
_third_ time she went to Father Mathew's gathering. This was in St.
Anthony's chapel yard, and amongst the thousands there to hear him and
to take the pledge she awaited her turn. Again she besought him to touch
her boy's foot. He knew her again, and, deeply moved by her importunity
and great faith he, at length, to her great joy, put his hand on my
brother's foot and gave him his blessing. My mother's faith in the
power of God, through His minister, was rewarded, for the foot was
healed.

I had an aunt--my mother's sister--married to a good patriotic Irishman,
Hugh, or, as he was more generally called, Hughey, Roney, who kept a
public house in Crosbie Street. The street is now gone, but it stood on
part of what is now the goods station of the London & North Western
Railway. Nearly all in Crosbie Street were from the West of Ireland,
and, amongst them, there was scarcely anything but Irish spoken. I have
often thought since of the splendid opportunity let slip by O'Connell
and the Repealers in neglecting to revive, as they could so easily have
then done, so strong a factor in nationality as the native tongue of our
people. My Aunt Nancy could speak the Northern Irish fluently, and, in
the course of her business, acquired the Connaught Irish and accent.

After a time Hughey Roney retired, and the house was carried on by his
daughter and her husband, John McArdle, a good, decent patriotic
Irishman, much respected by his Connaught neighbours, though he was from
the "Black North." It used to be a great treat to hear John McArdle, on
a Sunday night, reading the "Nation," which then cost sixpence, and was,
therefore, not so easily accessible, to an admiring audience, of whom I
was sometimes one, and his son, John Francis McArdle, another. This
younger McArdle, originally intended for the Church, became in after
life a brilliant journalist, and was for a time on the staff of the
"Nation," the teaching of which he had so early imbibed. The elder
McArdle was a big, imposing looking man, with a voice to match, who gave
the speeches of O'Connell and the other orators of Conciliation Hall
with such effect that the applause was always given exactly in the right
places, and with as much heartiness as if greeting the original
speakers.

After Father Mathew's visit, their trade fell away to such an extent
that John McArdle, determined to hold his ground--while still keeping
the public house open, though the business was all but gone--broke
another door into the street, and made his parlour into a grocery and
provision store. This enterprise on his part was only necessary for a
short time, as the abnormal enthusiasm in the cause of temperance which,
for the time being, had swept all before it, had subsided to such an
extent that McArdle, after a time, turned the room to its original
purpose, and was able to resume his readings from the "Nation" to
admiring audiences, as heretofore.

Yet, though so many fell away from their temporary exaltation, there
were still large numbers who remained firm, and the lasting good from
Father Mathew's work was undeniable.

So popular was John McArdle's house, that it was used as one of the
lodges of the Ancient Order of Hibernians--then very strong in
Liverpool, and stout champions of country and creed. In regard to this
organisation, I find in the "Irish World" of New York a high tribute
paid to them by the Very Rev. Thomas J. Shahan, of the Catholic
University of America. In his paper on "Hibernianism" he said there was
a tradition in the Ancient Order that they first started in Ireland in
the Penal days as a bodyguard to their poor parish priest when he said
Mass in the open air. Anyone who has spent most of his life in England,
as I have done, can well understand that this is not simply an effort of
this good priest's imagination, for, over and over again I have seen the
Hibernians among the first to come forward in defence of their priests
and churches when these were threatened. In the course of his paper Dr.
Shahan quoted a letter from the Brethren in Ireland, Scotland and
England to the Brethren in New York. It sent instructions and authority
to the few brothers in New York to establish branches of their Society
in America.

These were the qualifications laid down: Members must be Catholic and
Irish, or of Irish descent. They must be of good moral character, and
were not to join in any secret societies contrary to the laws of the
Catholic Church. They were to exercise hospitality towards their
emigrant brothers and to protect their emigrant sisters from all harm
and temptation, so that they should still be known for their chastity
all over the world. The members of the Order in America were to be at
liberty to make laws for the welfare of the Society, but these must be
in accord with the teaching of the Church, and their working must be
submitted to a Catholic priest. The letter says--"We send you these
instructions, as we promised to do, with a young man that works on the
ship and who called on you before." Directing that a copy of the
document should be sent to another friend, then working in
Pennsylvania, the letter concluded--"Hoping the bearer and this copy
will land safe and that you will treat him right, we remain your
brothers in the true bond of friendship this 4th day of May, in the year
of our Lord, 1837"--

  "PATRICK M'GUIRE, County Fermanagh.
  "JOHN REILLY, County Cavan.
  "PATRICK M'KENNA, County Monaghan.
  "JOHN DURKIN, County Mayo.
  "PATRICK REILLY, County Derry.
  "PATRICK DOYLE, County Sligo.
  "JOHN FARRELL, County Meath.
  "THOMAS O'RORKE, County Leitrim.
  "JAMES M'MANUS, County Leitrim.
  "JOHN M'MAHON, County Longford.
  "PATRICK DUNN, County Tyrone
  "PATRICK HAMILL, County Westmeath.
  "DANIEL GALLAGHER, Glasgow.
  "JOHN MURPHY, Liverpool."

It will be noticed that of the twelve Irish counties represented above,
six are in the province of Ulster, three in Connaught, and three in
Leinster, so that the Hibernians appear to have had their stronghold in
the Northern province and the adjoining counties in Connaught and
Leinster. This is exactly as one might expect, seeing the necessity for
a defensive organisation against the Orangemen of Ulster. The Order took
deep root in Glasgow and Liverpool on account of the convenience of
access by sea from Ireland to these cities.

I was too young to have known John Murphy, who signed the letter for the
Liverpool Hibernians, but, from what I knew of these afterwards, it is
likely that he was a dock labourer. As I will show, these men, over and
over again, to my own knowledge, gave splendid proofs of their courage
and love of creed and country. Their love of learning, too, has been
equal to that of their fathers in the days when our country was "The
Island of Saints and Scholars." Some of these poor men may not have had
much learning themselves, but they made great and noble sacrifices that
their children should have it. I noted with interest in the Irish papers
recently that the name of the Secretary of the Hibernian Order at the
Bridge of Mayo, County Down, was "Brother Denvir."

Our country sent over to Liverpool, besides sterling Nationalists, as
bitter a colony of Irishmen--I suppose we can scarcely deny the name to
men born in Ireland--as were, perhaps, to be found anywhere in the
world. These were the Orangemen. If there was one place more obnoxious
to them than another it was the club room of the Hibernians in Crosbie
Street. But though in their frequent conflicts with the "Papishes" they
wrecked houses and even killed several Irishmen--for they frequently
used deadly weapons against unarmed Catholics--they were never able to
make a successful attack on McArdle's. One of my earliest experiences
was being on the spot on the occasion of a contemplated assault on the
Hibernian club room on the day of an Orange anniversary. This was in
1843.

Parallel to Crosbie Street, where the club room was situated, was
Blundell Street, where my uncle, Hughey Roney, lived in a house
immediately behind McArdle's--the back door of the one house facing the
back door of the other. This side of the street, with the whole of
Crosbie Street, has long since been absorbed by the railway company
before mentioned.

I cannot imagine why my mother chose this particular day to take me to
see our relatives, except it was the inveterate longing which her early
surroundings and training had given her to assist at the "batin' of an
Orangeman," or why I should have been the chosen one of the family to
come, unless it was that she thought I was the one most after her own
heart in her warlike propensities. However this may have been, there we
were in the first-floor front room of my Uncle Hughey's. Every room,
from cellar to garret, was crowded with stalwart dock labourers--at that
time these were almost to a man Irish--prepared to support another
contingent of Hibernians who garrisoned McArdle's in a similar manner.
Hearing outside the cry--"he Orangemen!" I looked out of the window and
up the street, and there, sure enough, was a strong body of them
marching down, armed with guns, swords, and ship carpenters' hatchets.
At once the word was passed to the contingent in Crosbie Street to be
prepared to meet the threatened attack.

Nearer and nearer the Orangemen came. They had got within some thirty
yards of Roneys when, between them and the object of their attack, out
of Simpson street, which at this point crosses Blundell Street at right
angles, there intervened the head of a column of police, under the
Liverpool Chief Constable, an Irishman, Michael James Whitty. There was
a desperate engagement, but, notwithstanding their murderous weapons,
the Orangemen were utterly routed, flying before the disciplined charge
of the police, who freely used their batons on their retreating
opponents.

A few words about Michael James Whitty, who led the charge with right
good will, may not be inappropriate here. Many years afterwards, when we
were both engaged in the profession of journalism, I had the pleasure of
making his acquaintance through my reviewing in the "Catholic Times" a
very able book of his, a "Life of Robert Emmet." He asked Mr. Thomas
Gregson, his private secretary, a friend of mine: Who had written this
review? Upon hearing who it was, he asked Mr. Gregson to bring us
together. When we met, he told me how pleased he was with my review, and
that there was somebody on the "Catholic Times" who could appreciate his
book.

He became Chief Constable of Liverpool in 1828. About this time Messrs.
Rockliffs published a weekly newspaper called the "Liverpool Journal,"
which came into the hands of Mr. Whitty after he had resigned the office
of head constable. An offshoot of the "Journal" was the "Daily Post,"
which, in Mr. Whitty's hands was (and indeed has been ever since under
the direction of Sir Edward Russell, who still holds the reins) a
powerful organ of Liberalism. One of Whitty's sub-editors on the "Daily
Post" was Stephen Joseph Meany, a somewhat prominent figure in the Young
Ireland and Fenian movements.

As showing the power of the Press, there is no doubt that Whitty and
Meany, in the "Journal" and "Post," and through their influence
otherwise, did much to secure recognition of a great Irish actor. This
was Barry Sullivan, who was, I think, the finest tragedian I have ever
seen. He is still remembered with appreciation by many in England, and,
I am sure, in Ireland too.

He was a patriotic Irishman, and once offered himself to our committee
as a Nationalist candidate for the Parliamentary representation of
Liverpool. This was in the days when it was a three-membered
constituency. It was only the belief that the sacrifice which he thus
offered to make for his country would have injured his career as an
actor that prevented us from accepting his offer.

In my boyhood a great feature in Liverpool was the annual procession of
one or other of the local societies.

The great Irish and Catholic procession, of which the Hibernians formed
the largest contingent, was, of course, on St. Patrick's Day. A
considerable portion of the processionists were dock labourers; a fine
body of men, who were at this time, as I have already said, mostly
Irish.

The Orange processions in Liverpool were often the occasion of
bloodshed, for in them they carried guns, hatchets, and other deadly
weapons, as if they were always prepared for deeds of violence. The
ship carpenters were the most numerous body in the Orange processions.
Indeed, they formed such a large proportion that, by many, the 12th of
July was called "Carpenter's Day." Shipbuilding used to flourish in
Liverpool, and, as none of the firms engaged in it would take a Catholic
apprentice, it was quite an Orange preserve. This became somewhat
changed when the Chalenors, an English Catholic family, who were already
extensive timber merchants, commenced ship-building, and, of course,
took Catholic apprentices.

The Orange ring was thus gradually broken up, and, as iron ships
superseded wooden ones, ultimately the shipbuilding trade almost
vanished from Liverpool. The ship carpenters, for the most part, found
their occupation gone, and many of them ended their days in the
workhouse.

A further instance of the decline of rabid Orangeism might be cited. It
was not an altogether uncommon thing for people to be fired at from the
windows of Orange lodges. I see, according to the "Nation" of July 20th,
1850, that "an innkeeper of Liverpool named Wright fired out of his
house and wounded three people." In justification of this he stated that
"a crowd of Ribbonmen assembled round his house." At one time there used
to be a notorious Orange lodge held in a public house called "The Wheat
Sheaf" in Scotland Road. The members of this body thought nothing of
firing upon an unarmed and peaceable crowd from the windows, and I
remember an Irishman being shot dead upon one of these occasions. The
change that has taken place in this district can be best realized from
the facts that, in after years, the landlord of "The Wheatsheaf" bore
the name of Patrick Finegan, that, at the present moment, Scotland Road
is, as it has been for many years, represented in the City Council by a
sterling body of Irish Nationalists, and that the Scotland Division of
the Borough of Liverpool is the _one_ place in Great Britain where an
Irish Home Ruler, _as such_, can be returned to Parliament against all
comers, as Mr. T.P. O'Connor has been, ever since the Division became a
separate constituency.

To return to the St. Patrick's Day processions. I used to look forward
to them with delight in my childhood, and, even now, cannot help
lingering lovingly on their memory. They were splendid displays, which I
can remember much better than many things which occurred, so to speak,
but yesterday.

"Our street," which was close to Russell Street, Rodney Street, and
other thoroughfares through which the procession passed, was by no means
what you would call an Irish street. Indeed, the most influential man in
it was a retired sea captain named Jamieson, who, if not an Orangeman
"all out," was certainly at one time an Orange sympathiser. He and my
mother often had political discussions, which usually ended in fierce
quarrels, and when he would swear he would have us "run out of the
street," she used to threaten to bring up the men from the docks and
leave not a stone upon a stone of his house. Whether it was through his
being impressed by her terrible earnestness as a member of the Church
militant, or whatever else was the reason, Jamieson in the end became a
Catholic, and died a most edifying death.

Before his conversion, however, as well as after--Jamieson to the
contrary notwithstanding--"our street" always took a lively and
neighbourly interest in the St. Patrick's procession, and used to turn
out to a man, to a baby it would, perhaps, be more correct to say, for
was not one of the chief sights of the procession their decent
neighbour, Timothy, or, as he was more generally called, "Thade"
Crowley, the pork butcher, at the corner? There were splendid pictures
and devices on the banners--I can see them all most vividly now--St.
Patrick, Brian Bora, Sarsfield, O'Connell, the Irish Wolf Dog, with the
motto "Gentle when stroked, fierce when provoked," and harps and
shamrocks _galore_, but Thade Crowley was in all our eyes the finest
figure in the procession.

Among his greatest admirers were a Jewish family named Hyman, who lived
next door to him. Though the Jews are supposed to hold what was
Crowley's stock-in-trade in abomination, the two old ladies--Mrs.
Crowley, who used to say she was of "Cork's own town and God's own
people," and Mrs. Hyman, who came from Cork, too, though, needless to
say, without a drop of Irish blood in her veins--were great cronies.

As a consequence, the Hymans were among the most eager of the spectators
to get the first glimpse of honest Thade Crowley as he walked in front
of his own particular lodge of the Hibernians. He was a portly,
well-built man, of ruddy complexion, and open, genial countenance. He
wore buckskin breeches, top boots, green tabinet double-breasted
waistcoat, bottle-green coat with brass buttons, and beaver hat. The
Crowleys were very popular in the neighbourhood, as they never had but a
kindly word for everybody.

When I was a small boy, about 9 or 10 years old, I often listened with
delight to Mrs. Crowley, who had a fluent tongue, expatiating on the
glories of her native city--

     By the pleasant waters of the River Lee.

and I have heard her exclaiming, I at the time believing it most
implicitly:

"Sin, is it? Sure. I never heard of sin till I came to Liverpool;
there's no sin in Cor-r-k!"

And she rattled the "r" with a strong rising inflexion, greatly
impressing me with the high character of Ireland and of Cork in
particular.

At that time I had never seen Ireland but as an infant at my mother's
breast.



CHAPTER III.

IRELAND RE-VISITED.


I was a boy of about 12 when I first re-visited Ireland; and, as the
steamer entered Carlingford Lough, which to my mind almost equals
Killarney's beauty--but that, perhaps, is a Northman's prejudice--with
the noble range of the Mourne mountains on the one side and the
Carlingford Hills on the other, it seemed to my young imagination like a
glimpse of fairy land.

Carlingford reminded me of what my old masters, the Christian Brothers,
used to teach us, that those places ending in "ford" had at one time
been Norse settlements. There is not the slightest trace, I should say,
of people of Norse descent along this coast now, unless we accept the
theory that would regard as such the descendants of the Norman De
Courcy's followers, who can be recognised by their names, and are still
to be found, side by side, and intermingling with those of the original
Celtic children of the soil in the barony of Lecale. It is astonishing,
by the way, how you still find in Ireland, after centuries of successive
confiscations, the old names in their old tribal lands, mingled in
places, as in Lecale, with the Norman names; the two races being now
thoroughly amalgamated--as distinguished from the case of King James's
Planters in Ulster, who, to this day are, as a rule, as distinct from
the population amongst whom they live--whether of pure Celtic strain or
with a Norman admixture--as when first they came.

There was an idea in our family that I had a vocation for the
priesthood, and I was being sent to my uncle, Father Michael O'Loughlin,
parish priest of Dromgoolan, County Down, who placed me in charge of Mr.
Johnson, a somewhat noted classical teacher in the neighbouring little
town of Castlewellan.

I have seen but little of Ireland, but during the few months I was here
on this occasion I made the best use of my time. I could have had no
better guide and preceptor than "Priest Mick," as my mother used to call
my uncle. I imagine that the term "Priest," which, in the North of
Ireland, was formerly so much used as a prefix to the name of the
Catholic clergyman, must have arisen amongst those not of his own flock,
and was probably not intended to have exactly a respectful meaning.

Father Michael sometimes came to see his relatives in Liverpool, who
were very numerous. He called them the "Tribe of Brian" (his father's
name) and he made a point of visiting them all, down to the very latest
arrival--indeed, I think he was the only one who knew the whole of the
ramifications of "the Tribe."

He used to say that his father--the aforesaid Brian--had one of the
largest noses in the country. There was only another man, he said, who
could approach him in that respect. If the two men met in a very narrow
"loanan "--what they call a "boreen" in other parts of Ireland--the
other man, who was a bit of a wag, would put his hand to his nose, and
make a motion of putting it aside, as if there was not sufficient room
for two such organs, and call out with a kind of snuffle: "Pass, Brian!"

The late Mgr. O'Laverty, in his "History of the Dioceses of Down and
Connor," says: "From a government official survey in 1766 there were
fifteen families in Castlewellan, of whom two only (Hagans and
O'Donnells) were Catholics." Up to that date there must have been,
during this century, a considerable clearance of the Catholic population
from the best land of this district, for I should say--judging from King
James's Army List and other authorities--that the Magennises (who, with
the MacCartans, were the chief territorial families of the old race in
Down) still held land in the neighbourhood up to the end of the
seventeenth century. As still further showing this, it will be found
that "Eiver Magennis of Castlewellan" was one of the members for the
County Down in what Thomas Davis truly describes as "The Patriot
Parliament" of 1689.

The learned historian of Down and Connor gives an interesting account of
the only Norman colony of any extent in the province of Ulster. I have
already spoken of this. Notwithstanding the very small Norman
admixture, in the main the Catholics of the North are the most
pure-blooded Celts in Ireland. And even in the case of Lecale, the
original Celtic population intermingled with the descendants of the
Norman settlers, who, like the older native population have ever
remained true to the old faith. The preponderance of the Celtic element
in the Catholics of Ulster must be overwhelming. What is called
"Protestant Ulster" is practically a foreign importation, which the
native population never absorbed, as they did the earlier invaders.

Speaking of the Rev. Cornelius (or, as he was oftener called, Corney)
Denvir, a relative of ours, who afterwards became Bishop of Down and
Connor, Father O'Laverty says: "The Denvirs are a Norman race, brought
to Lecale by De Courcy. The late bishop observed the name in several of
the towns in Normandy."

I only met Bishop Denvir once, when my father--who was his second
cousin--took me to see him at the Grecian Hotel, Liverpool, when he was
on his way either to or from Rome. I once, when a small boy, incurred my
father's displeasure by criticising adversely (from what I had read in
the "Nation") Dr. Denvir's support of what was called the "Bequest
Bill." There were some strictures in the "Nation" on the favour shown to
this Bill by three of the Irish Hierarchy, Archbishops Crolly and
Murray, and Bishop Denvir. The last was a man of great learning. An
edition of the Bible was published under his auspices by Sims and
McIntyre, of Belfast.

During my stay in Ireland, I lived in the house of my uncle, Owen (or
Oiney, as he was commonly called) Bannon, in the townland of
Ballymagenaghy, where my mother was born.

No boy could have had a better object lesson in the part of Irish
history embracing the Plantation of Ulster than Ballymagenaghy. It is
eminently typical of the kind of rocky and barren land to which the
children of the soil were driven--land which would hardly bear
cultivation. I need scarcely say that the people were "Papishes" to a
man.

There was a hill behind my Uncle Oiney's house called Carraig
(pronounced "Corrig"), in English "rock," and the name might well apply
to most of the townland, in which the chief productions seemed to be
stones and rocks. Carraig was a kind of shoulder of what I heard the
people calling "My lord's mountain." This was part of Lord Annesley's
domain, and separated from Carraig and several small farms by a wall,
which ran down to a sheet of water at the foot--Castlewellan Lough. I,
as a student of the "Nation," was not at all satisfied that an Irish
mountain should be called by such a name, which spoke volumes for the
state of serfdom into which the people had fallen. I was not long in
finding the real name--Sliab na Slat (mountain of Rods).

I often looked with admiration at the view from its highest point.
Underneath, the side of the mountain was clothed with trees down to the
edge of the lough, which mirrored the wooded eminences of exquisite
beauty surrounding it. Looking eastward you could see Dundrum Bay and
the white sails of the fishing boats.(They used to sing a mournful
lament around the turf fires of Ballymagenaghy of "The loss of the
Mourne Fishermen" in a great storm off this coast). Further off you
might see an occasional large sailing vessel or steamer, and, further
still, in the dim distance, you could just discern the Isle of Man.
Southward the eye took in the noble range of the Mourne mountains,
running from east to west, from where, at Newcastle, the Irish sea comes
to kiss the foot of the lofty Slieve Donard, towering in majesty over
all his fellows--rugged sentinels of the hills and vales of Down.

Lying, as if nestling under the Mourne range, was a small, well-wooded
hill, part of the domain of Lord Roden, who held high rank among the
Orange ascendancy faction, and, as will be seen later, may be said to
have held the lives and liberties of his Catholic fellow-countrymen in
this district in his hands.

In Ballymagenaghy I was oftener called by my mother's name than my
father's. In those days, as often as not, when a girl got married she
was still called by her friends by her maiden name. So, on the first
Sunday after my arrival, when I was taken over to Leitrim chapel, where
I served my uncle's Mass, I found myself referred to as "Peggy
Loughlin's wee boy." It did not seem at all strange to me, for I
scarcely ever heard her called by any other name. Indeed, some forty
years afterwards--when I was organising for the Irish National
League--I met a County Down man in Cumberland. He was, as I soon found,
from "our own place," as they affectionately call it. He was trying to
trace out what family I belonged to. At last he had it--"Oh" he said,
"You would be a son of Margaret O'Loughlin?" I hesitated for moment,
when Edward McConvey, the local organiser--a County Down man, too--who
had introduced us, laughed heartily as he said: "Here's a quare man;
doesn't know his own mother's name!" In fact, I had so seldom heard my
mother called anything else but "Peggy" that the proper name sounded
strange for the moment. Indeed, it had evidently taken our friend some
time to remember the name of "Margaret," which he, no doubt, thought the
more polite one to use in speaking of my mother.

Her family did not generally use the prefix "O" in her younger days. It
was only after her two brothers, Bernard and Michael, became priests,
and always called and signed themselves "O'Loughlin," that the prefix
was resumed. This is a common experience in other Irish families.

Many of the small holdings in Ballymagenaghy would not support in
anything approaching to comfort the large families with which the sturdy
and industrious people were blessed. This was certainly the case with
the Bannons, but they were not entirely dependent on the land they
tilled, as several of the family were employed in weaving in a portion
of the house, the looms being their own. I have often admired the
beautiful damask table-cloths produced in the homes of these
"mountainy" people, the webs, when finished, being taken to Banbridge,
to the warehouses of the manufacturers, and the yarn and the patterns
for the next lot being brought back on the return journey.

I believe that these cottage industries no longer exist, and that the
beautiful fabrics, for which our northern province is famous, are now
produced by steam power in Banbridge and other Ulster towns.

As the young men and boys of the Bannons worked at their looms, and the
women and girls at their spinning and "flowering," when not wanted to
help on the land, the father, Oiney, would occasionally go over to
England as a travelling packman, and so increase the family store. I
have known in late years other Ulstermen doing this--amongst others my
old friend Bernard MacAnulty, of whom I shall have more to say later.

I had often, at my home in Liverpool, heard of Irish hospitality. Here
in Ballymagenaghy I had many practical illustrations of this in the way
they treated the "poor man" or "poor woman" as they called them--they
never called them beggars--who came to their doors. Indeed, it seemed
to me that these had no occasion to _ask_ for help, for more than once I
have seen a "poor woman" coming in with her bed upon her back, putting
it down in the warmest corner behind the chimney breast, and making
herself at home as a matter of course, without going through the
formality of asking for a night's lodging.

Of the enormous number of harvestmen who passed every year through
Liverpool, except from the County Donegal, there were not so many from
the northern province. The majority were from Connaught. They generally
landed at the Clarence Dock, Liverpool, a wiry, hardy-looking lot, with
frieze coats, corduroy breeches, clean white shirts with high collars,
and blackthorn sticks. I have seen them filling the breadth of Prescot
Street, as they left the town, marching up like an army on foot to the
various parts of England they were bound for. This was before special
cheap trains were run for harvestmen.

At night, in my Irish mountain home, after I had prepared my Latin
lessons for the following day, and my uncle, aunt, and cousins had left
off work, I joined with great enjoyment in the family group around the
turf fire, and listened with rapt attention to songs and stories; my
favourite among the latter being the adventures of Barney Henvey among
the fairies in the old rath, or "forth," as they called it, of
Ballymagenaghy.

I may say that, up to this moment, I have a certain liking for such
stories--of course _as_ fairy stories. But, being a boy of enquiring
mind, I wanted to get at the whole theory of the existence of these
beings, and, accordingly, this is what I gathered as to the origin,
present existence, and future state of the "good people," as they called
them. In "The Irish Fairy Legends," a number of my "Penny Irish
Library," I find I have dealt with the subject. As the passage gives the
explanation I got at my uncle Oiney's more correctly than I can trust
to my memory to give it now, after a lapse of some sixty years, I may be
excused for giving the following extract:--

     The belief is that, in the great rebellion of Lucifer, of the
     spirits who fell from heaven, some, not so guilty as those who
     "went further and fared worse," fell upon our earth, and into the
     air and water that surround it. These are the _Fairies_, who have
     their various dispositions, like mortals, and like them, at the day
     of judgment, will be rewarded or punished according to their
     deserts.

In the "Fairy Legends" I have also given the story of "Barney Henvey"
mentioned above. There is something like it in the "Ingoldsby Legends,"
and, no doubt, in the fairy mythologies of other nations, but my story
is of Irish origin. Heaven only knows through how many ages it has been
handed down to us. It is one of the fairy stories my mother and
grandmother used to tell us as long ago as I can remember. I have a
little grandson who, when smaller, used sometimes to insist when put to
bed after he had said his "lying-down prayers," upon hearing "Barney
Henvey" before he went to sleep; and so it will, no doubt, go on, and
such stories may be told in ages to come, not only in Ireland--"A Nation
once again"--but in every settlement of the Clan-na-Gael throughout the
world.

Friends and neighbours would come to my uncle Oiney's from beside
Castlewellan Lough, and over from Dolly's Brae and Ballymagrehan, who,
after the day's work, enjoyed going "a cailey." I hope my Gaelic League
friends will forgive me if I don't give the correct sound of this word,
but that is my remembrance of how they pronounced it some sixty years
ago in the County Down.

Sometimes at our little gatherings, the "wee boy from England," as the
neighbours called me, would be asked to read from the "Nation" a speech
of the Liberator--the title his countrymen gave O'Connell after Catholic
emancipation. I was always delighted with this; entering as fully and
enthusiastically into the spirit of what I read as any of the company.

As often as not, in Ballymagenaghy there would be sung, to the
accompaniment of fiddle, flute or clarionet, one of those stirring songs
which, week after week, appeared about this time in the "Nation" from
the pens of Thomas Davis, and the brilliant young men in O'Connell's
movement known as the "Young Irelanders "--songs "racy of the soil,"
like the "Nation" itself, which stirred the hearts of the Irish race
like the blast of a trumpet, songs which are still sung by Irish
Nationalists the world over.

On the Sundays, the Bannons and their next neighbours, the Finegans,
MacCartans, and MacKays, with their fiddles, flutes, and clarionets,
supplied the chief part of the instrumental music of the choir--for
there was no organ--at the little mountain chapel at Leitrim, where my
uncle, Father Michael, officiated. The happy remembrances of those
Sundays of my boyhood are always brought back to me whenever I read
T.D. Sullivan's "Dear Old Ireland," which is equally characteristic of
this corner of the "black North" as of the raciest part of Munster--more
especially where he sings:--

  And happy and bright are the groups that pass
    From their peaceful homes for miles,
  O'er fields, and roads, and hills to Mass,
    When Sunday morning smiles;
      And deep the zeal their true hearts feel
        When low they kneel and pray!
          Oh, dear old Ireland!
          Blest old Ireland!
        Ireland, boys, hurrah!

But nothing excited my boyish enthusiasm more than the stories of the
Insurrection of 1798. I was too young to understand much of what my
grandmother used to tell us about these times before she died. My mother
was born in 1799, and was the youngest daughter of her family, but her
eldest sister, my Aunt Mary, wife of Oiny Bannon, was 12 or 14 years old
at the time of the Rising, and could describe more vividly what she saw
connected with it than I can now recall incidents in the Repeal and
Young Ireland Movements.

Listening to her, I could almost fancy I could see my grandfather, Brian
O'Loughlin, leaving his home with the other Ballymagenaghy men, with
their pikes and such guns as they could muster, to join the United Irish
forces previous to the battles of Saintfield and Ballinahinch. At the
time of my visit to my mother's birthplace, my grandfather's house was
in the occupation of the family of his youngest son, Edward, and, as a
pilgrim visiting a sacred spot, I have stood on its floor, as I
afterwards did on the field of Ballinahinch itself.

My Aunt Mary used to speak of an incident which I have never read of in
any account of the battle, but I am inclined to believe there was some
foundation for what she used to tell us. In one part of the engagement
it seemed as if the bravery of the insurgents would have been crowned
with a victory as decisive as they had gained at Saintfield, when, by
some untoward circumstance, the fortunes of the day turned, and, in the
end, the United Men were defeated. Perhaps what my Aunt Mary told me may
be some explanation of the turn in the tide of battle. She used to say
that when it looked as if the United Men were carrying all before them,
a portion of their forces called out for a "Presbyterian ('Prispatairan'
she used to call it) Government," that this caused some hesitation among
the Catholics, that after this the battle went against them, and that
the day ended in disaster.

The story seems somewhat improbable, as it might be asked how, in the
excitement of a battle, men of one religion could be distinguished from
those of another? But this will not seem so unlikely if the
circumstances arising out of the Ulster Plantation of King James I. be
remembered. As a consequence of this you will find townlands and
parishes and whole districts, where the soil is poorest, where the
people are almost exclusively Catholic, and others where the
non-Catholic population are in an overwhelming majority. In the United
forces the men of each locality would have been drilled and trained
together, and, in the same way would, no doubt, act together on the
field of battle, so that, without any actual arrangement for that
purpose, the Catholic or the Presbyterian would, most likely, find
himself among his own co-religionists.

It is wonderful how the memories of '98 were handed down from one
generation to another, not only in Ireland, but wherever our people have
made their homes.

This has been brought home to me in the most forcible possible manner by
a circumstance which has come to my knowledge only a few months
since--so to speak--after a lapse of over a hundred years.

This is that General James William Denver--after whom, for his
distinguished career, the capital of the State of Colorado was called
Denver City--had for his grandfather Patrick Denvir, who did a man's
share in the insurrection of '98, and, for his connection with it, had
to fly from his native Down to America.

This information I had from General Denver's daughter, replying on
behalf of her brother, to whom I had written to find if the family were
of Irish origin. I had some doubt about this, seeing that they spell
their name with an "e" in the last syllable, whereas we and all of the
name in the County Down use an "i." The lady's letter was not only
interesting but most welcome, as showing that they were not only of
Irish but of patriotic origin. They evidently continue to take an
interest in the land from which they have sprung, for the lady made
some enquiries about the late Bishop Denvir, of whom I have already
spoken.

Most of the United Irish leaders and a large proportion of the rank and
file in the '98 Rising were Presbyterians, and fought and bled for
Ireland with the same heroism as their Catholic neighbours, amongst whom
no name is more cherished in the County Down than that of the Protestant
General Monroe, who, my Aunt Mary used to tell us, was hanged at his own
door in 1798. How is it that the sons of the men of 1782 and of
Grattan's Parliament, and of 1798 were not as good Irishmen as their
fathers? I think I can give a kind of explanation.

It must be remembered that the era of Grattan's Parliament and of the
Volunteer movement of 1782, of which present-day Nationalists are so
proud, was also the era of the Penal laws. Since then the Protestants
have seen the Irish Catholic rising from the dust of serfdom and
standing in the attitude of manhood. They have seen him gradually
obtaining a share in the making of the laws of the land, and, naturally,
becoming the predominant political power in Ireland--the Catholics being
the majority of the population. I may be wrong, but I have a theory that
many of the Protestants of Ireland--who once had all the political power
in their hands, and did not always use it too mercifully in their
treatment of the rest of their countrymen--are afraid that if they
assisted in getting self-government for Ireland the power in the hands
of the enfranchised majority might be used against them.

That this is a groundless fear is shown from the fact that no men have
been more honoured in Ireland than such Protestant leaders as William
Smith O'Brien, Thomas Davis, John Mitchel, John Martin, Isaac Butt, and
Charles Stewart Parnell. The same feeling is constantly shown at this
moment towards distinguished Protestants among the present Irish
Parliamentary Party.

What has fostered the Anti-Irish feeling among Irish Protestants for the
last hundred years has undoubtedly been the fell system of Orangeism,
which has caused so much hatred and bloodshed among men who, whatever
their race or creed, are now children of the one common soil. The
Orangeman looked upon himself as part of a foreign garrison, holding the
"Papishes" in subjection. He was armed with deadly weapons;
consequently, the defenceless Catholic was almost entirely at his mercy,
and the Orangeman was but too often backed up in his lawlessness by the
law and its administrators.

This almost necessitated the existence, as a kind of defence against
Orangeism, of a body I used to hear them speaking of when I was a boy in
Ballymagenaghy, called the "Thrashers," which, I imagine, must have been
some kind of a secret society.

It must have been a sort of survival of these "Thrashers" that my
friend, Michael Davitt, many years afterwards, came across somewhere in
the North of England. The incident, as described by him, was both
amusing and saddening. He addressed them in his capacity as a Fenian
Organiser. After they had heard him patiently, an old man, the
spokesman, said:

"Tell me--do you have Prodestans in this Society of yours?"

"Certainly," Davitt answered. "We invite all Irishmen."

"Then we'll have nothing to do with yez!"

As my Aunt Mary could relate thrilling stories of '98, so could my own
mother tell me all about the savagery of Orangemen in her days. She used
to describe to me the attempts of an Orange procession to pass through
Dolly's Brae, when she was a young girl, before she left Ireland.
Dolly's Brae is a kind of rugged defile through which passes the road
from the town of Castlewellan, which, running westward, divides the
townlands of Ballymagenaghy and Ballymagrehan. It is an entirely
Catholic district, and not at all on the ordinary route by which the
processionists would reach their homes. Yet, in a spirit of aggression,
and well-armed, as usual, with Orange banners waving, drums beating, and
bands playing "Croppies lie down," "The Boyne Water," and similar airs,
this was the district they sought to march through.

It so happened that the proposed hostile parade was not altogether
unexpected. In any case, their approach was heralded by the firing over
"Papish" houses, as the processionists came towards Dolly's Brae. From
the heights above they were seen--my mother being one of the
watchers--in sufficient time to have the people of the immediate
neighbourhood warned of the threatened Orange incursion.

The defenders of Dolly's Brae had no firearms, as their opponents had,
but they gathered up any weapons they could to repel the invaders. The
Orangemen came on, expecting an easy victory. They had got well into the
defile, and were firing at their opponents, who were in sight before
them at some distance on the road, and into the houses on each side,
when they were thrown into confusion by a storm of large stones and
pieces of rock hurled down the steep sides of the defile upon them by
assailants who had been up till then invisible.

According to the description of my mother, who was always a militant
Catholic of the most orthodox description, and a strong physical force
Irishwoman as well, the Dolly's Brae engagement must have borne some
resemblance to the battle of Limerick, as described by Thomas Davis:--

  "The women fought before the men;
  Each man became a match for ten;
  So back they pushed the villains then
    From the city of Luimneach Lionnglas".

She ought to know, for she was in the thick of the fight. The confusion
of the Orangemen was turned into a complete rout, and they fled, leaving
their banners and other trophies in the hands of the mountainy men.

For many years the Orangemen never attempted to go near the place, but,
with the connivance and active aid of the guardians of the peace, they
did at last, many years afterwards, appear on the scene again. The
Orange anniversary was celebrated at Tollymore Park, the seat of Lord
Roden, who was a sort of Orange deity at the time. Tollymore Park is
some four or five miles south-east of Dolly's Brae, which is in the
heart of the Catholic district, and, as I have said, far out of the
direct road of the Orangemen returning to their own homes.

Yet they deliberately took this route. They were a formidable body, well
armed with guns. At their head was one Beers, the agent of Lord Roden,
and a magistrate who, for the "protection" of the Orangemen, had under
his command a strong body of the constabulary and a detachment of
soldiers. The ordinary Englishman, who knows the police as they are in
his country as the guardians of the public peace, must not confound them
with those in Ireland. The Irish constabulary are simply the permanent
British army of occupation, well armed and drilled, and, physically, as
fine a body of men as any in the world. These were the forces under the
command of Lord Roden's agent, for the invasion, for such it was, of a
peaceful Catholic district.

When the people sought to defend themselves from this invasion as best
they could, Beers, in his capacity as a magistrate, gave the police and
soldiers under his command the order to fire--which they did--upon the
people and into their houses. Consequently, what followed was nothing
short of a butchery, under cover of which the Orangemen wrecked the
Catholic houses in the glen.

I shall never forget the grief of my mother, at this time residing in
Liverpool, at reading in the newspapers the names of the victims who
had been murdered outright or wounded. They were all her next door
neighbours "at home"--people she had known from childhood.

The horrible outrage roused universal indignation. In Parliament the
Irish members demanded a full official enquiry as to how this murderous
business came to be carried out by a Government official. As a result
Lord Roden and his agent were deprived of the Commission of the
Peace--their offence was too glaring to be entirely overlooked. But to
the friends of those who had been legally murdered, and the innocent
people whose houses had been wrecked, this was a cruel mockery. Had the
criminals been Catholic peasants, they would have been put upon their
trial for their lives, and, at the very least, sent into penal
servitude. What confidence could the Catholics of Ulster have in the
administration of the law, knowing, as they did, that even where they
were more than able to hold their own against the Orangemen, they were
sure to be sufferers in the long run, seeing that their opponents would
be backed up by the forces that should go to preserve law and order.

It is thirty-five years since I last re-visited the County Down. I took
my son with me. He was nearly of the same age as I was myself when I
lived in Ballymagenaghy, but I could only show him the site of Oiney
Bannon's house. It was not the too common case of an eviction, for the
Annesleys had the reputation of being tolerably good landlords. The
land, as I have said, was very poor, in fact, if the people got it for
nothing it would hardly repay cultivation. But it was picturesque, and
therefore Lord Annesley took some of it into his domain, and these
barren hills and rocks, when planted with trees, added to the beauty of
the scenery. The dispossessed tenants got land from him in Clarkhill,
not far off.

Since that time, judging from the Irish newspapers, there seems to have
been progress in the right direction, for the little town of
Castlewellan, where for a short time I went to school, from being a
place where, in the Penal days, a Catholic was scarcely allowed to live,
seems to have become a strong Nationalist centre for South Down. This
was my mother's part of the country. I have seen similar paragraphs
which proved to me that, in the barony of Lecale, County Down, my
father's part, the people, though not so demonstrative as the "mountainy
men," can still, as ever, be relied upon to stand as firm as Slieve
Donard itself for creed and country.



CHAPTER IV.

O'CONNELL IN LIVERPOOL--TERENCE BELLEW MACMANUS AND THE REPEAL HALL--THE
GREAT IRISH FAMINE.


O'Connell, when passing through Liverpool on his way to Parliament,
always made the Adelphi Hotel his headquarters, and used to hear Mass
not far off at the Church of St. Nicholas, or, as it was more generally
called, "Copperas Hill Chapel," where I used to serve as an altar boy. I
must have been a very small boy at the time when I first remember the
Liberator coming to Mass at our Church, for, on one occasion, on
stretching up to the altar to remove the Missal it was so difficult for
me to reach that I let it fall over my head.

Without being by any means what is termed a "votheen," O'Connell was a
faithful and devout son of the Catholic Church. During the many years
when he was passing through Liverpool, going to and returning from
Parliament, and on other occasions when he came to Irish gatherings in
the town, he attended Mass daily whenever possible, and frequently
approached Holy Communion.

O'Connell spoke several times from the balcony of the Adelphi Hotel.
From my earliest days I was an earnest politician, and one of my most
cherished remembrances is of having been brought by my father to one of
these gatherings. The Liberator addressed a great multitude, who filled
the whole square in front, and overflowed into the adjoining streets. My
recollection of him on this occasion is that of a big man, in a long
cloak, wearing what appeared to me some kind of a cap with a gold band
on it. This must have been the famous "Repeal Cap" designed by the Irish
sculptor, Hogan, who, when investing O'Connell with it at the great
gathering at Mullaghmast, said: "Sir, I only regret this cap is not of
gold."

As in our later Irish movements, we frequently had meetings in one or
other of the Liverpool theatres. O'Connell was, as often as his
attendance could be secured, the central figure, and drew enormous
gatherings. At one of these meetings at the Royal Amphitheatre there was
an attempt by an armed body of Orangemen to storm the platform, on which
were all our leading Irishmen. Among the most active of these was
Terence Bellew MacManus, who had all his lifetime been a devoted
follower and admirer of O'Connell. On this particular night, which was
long before the unfortunate split into "Old Ireland" and "Young
Ireland," he had a fine opportunity of displaying his "physical force"
proclivities in defence of the "moral force" leader.

The Orange attack was of short duration. They were simply cleared out as
if by an irresistible whirlwind. We have always been able to hold our
own in Liverpool, when it came to physical encounters against all
comers. We have generally had some organisation or another--whether
constitutional or unconstitutional--but, apart from this, the nature of
the employment of our working-men, especially in O'Connell's time,
brought them together in such a way that large numbers of them knew each
other, and could act together in case of emergency.

MacManus, who had command of the stewards on the night of the attack,
knew a number of men like Mick Digney, who was what was called a
"lumper"--that is, a contractor in a small way who took work in the
"lump" and employed men for loading and unloading ships. Digney and
other friends would find their way for consultation and the making of
the necessary arrangements beforehand on occasions like this to
MacManus, whose place of business--he was an extensive forwarding
agent--was one of those half-offices, half-warehouses, which used to be
in North John Street.

Another class of men who were reliable for such occasions were the
bricklayers' labourers. Of course, it is different now--and a sure sign
that our people are rising in the social scale--but in those years, and
long afterwards, I never knew a bricklayers' labourer who was not an
Irishman.

The frequent mention at these gatherings of a sterling Irishman I knew
well in after years, Patrick O'Hanlon, reminds me of two friends of my
father of the same name who belonged to another class of men, the
wood-sawyers, who, at that time, were mostly Irish. They had not
exactly the same name as Patrick, for it was not so customary to use the
O' or Mac in those days as it has since become. Not that Hughey and Ned
Hanlon did not know that they were entitled to the honourable Gaelic
prefix, but, with the good nature which is rather too characteristic of
Irishmen sometimes, those who had preceded them had allowed other people
to drop the O' in using their name, until it became rather difficult to
resume it.

Needless to say that Hughey and Ned Hanlon, John Green, Mike Doolan, and
other wood-sawyers were at the Royal Amphitheatre among MacManus's
volunteers. The Hanlons, in particular, were fine lathy men, without an
ounce of spare flesh, but they had sinews of iron. Hughey used to come
to our house with other neighbours every week to hear the "Nation" read,
and the songs in it sung to the accompaniment of Harry Starkey's or my
Uncle John's fiddle. The Hanlons were North of Ireland men, and Hughey
often used to proudly tell us that the O'Hanlons were the Ulster
standard-bearers.

At that time, besides the Amphitheatre, where during those years several
Irish demonstrations were held, a popular place for our gatherings was
the Adelphi Theatre (previously the "Queen's"), which was in somewhat
better standing then than afterwards, though it, too, has had within its
walls most of the Irish leaders of the last half century.

I remember one occasion in particular when O'Connell was, of course, the
hero of the day, which impressed itself upon my youthful mind the more
forcibly on account of the presence on the platform of Jack Langan--of
whom I have already spoken--a warm-hearted and generous supporter of the
great Dan, and the Cause of Repeal. Indeed, we boys regarded the Irish
champion boxer with the admiration we would have bestowed upon Finn
MacCool or some other of the ancient Fenians, could they have appeared
in bodily form amongst us.

Little we then thought that we should be welcoming on the same platform
the Fenians of our own days.

That meeting in the Adelphi has also been frequently brought back to my
mind since, because for a long time the "leading man" in the stock
company at that theatre was Edmond O'Rourke (stage name Falconer), a
sterling Nationalist, with whom I made a closer acquaintance in later
years.

I was often brought by my father to the weekly gatherings in the Repeal
Hall, Paradise Street, where, among the speakers on the Sunday nights I
can best remember were Terence Bellew MacManus, Patrick O'Hanlon, Dr.
Reynolds, George Smyth, and George Archdeacon.

MacManus and Smyth (the latter of whom I knew well in after years),
besides being prominent workers in O'Connell's agitation for Repeal of
the Union between Ireland and Great Britain, took active parts in the
"Young Ireland" movement. Dr. Reynolds was another of the Young
Irelanders. So also was Archdeacon, who, in addition, still showed his
belief in physical force by his connection with Fenianism, for which he
suffered imprisonment.

Young as I was, I shall never forget the days of the Famine, for
Liverpool, more than any other place outside of Ireland itself, felt its
appalling effects. It was the main artery through which the flying
people poured to escape from what seemed a doomed land. Many thousands
could get no further, and the condition of the already overcrowded parts
of the town in which our people lived became terrible, for the wretched
people brought with them the dreaded Famine Fever, and Liverpool became
a plague-stricken city. Never was heroism greater than was shown by the
devoted priests--English as well as Irish--in ministering to the sick
and dying. So terrible was the mortality amongst them that several of
the churches lost their priests twice over. Our own family were nearly
left orphans, for both father and mother were stricken down by the
fever, but happily recovered.

It will not be wondered at that one who saw these things, even though he
was only a boy, should feel it a duty stronger than life itself to
reverse the system of misgovernment which was responsible.

There was, no doubt, a good deal of English sympathy for the
famine-stricken people, and there were some remedial measures by
Parliament--totally inadequate, however, but I am afraid that the
"Times" and "Punch," two great organs of public opinion, but too
faithfully represented the feelings of many of our rulers. The "Times"
actually gloated over what appeared to be the impending extinction of
our race. Young as I then was, but learning my weekly lessons from the
"Nation," I can remember how my blood boiled one day when I saw in a
shop window a cartoon of "Punch"--a large potato, which was a caricature
of O'Connell's head and face, with the title--"The Real Potato Blight."

At the time of the Rising of 1848 I was commencing my apprenticeship
with a firm of builders, who were also my father's employers. They were
successors to the firm through whose agency he had been sent to Ireland
as clerk of the works, just previous to my birth there. It was the
custom of the firm, when a boy came to commence his apprenticeship to be
a joiner, to keep him in the office for a time as office boy. I was
employed in the office at the time of the Rising, but one of the
partners in this firm of builders, who was also an architect, seeing
that I had had a good education, and, through attending evening classes
at the Catholic Institute and Liverpool Institute, had a considerable
knowledge of mathematics and architectural drawing, gave me employment
which was more profitable to the firm and congenial to me than that of
an ordinary office boy or junior clerk. Besides helping in the ordinary
clerical work in the office, I was put to copying and making tracings of
ground plans, elevations and sections of buildings, and working drawings
for the use of the artizans, besides assisting in surveying. I was about
three years employed in this way before entering into the joiners'
workshop. The firm was most anxious that I should remain in the office
altogether, and I have often thought since that my father made a
mistake in insisting that I should learn the trade of a joiner, which
he considered a more certain living than that of an architect or
draughtsman, unless one had influential connections.

It was from the upper window of the office where I was at the work I
have described that I could see the men belonging to our firm drilling
as special constables in the school yard opposite, in anticipation of
trouble in connection with an Irish Rising.

The authorities were evidently preparing for a formidable outbreak in
Liverpool, for there was a large military camp at Everton--a suburb of
the city--and three gunboats in the river ready for action, in case any
part of the town fell into the hands of the Irish Confederates. Special
constables, as in the case of our own firm, were being sworn in all over
the town, and the larger firms were putting pressure upon their
employees to be enrolled. Indeed, some 500 dock labourers were
discharged because they would not be sworn in. My father declined to be
a special constable, but suffered no further from this than becoming a
suspect--his services being too valuable to be dispensed with by his
employers.

He was a genuinely patriotic Irishman, steadfast in his political creed,
though unostentatious in his professions, being more a man of action
than of words. My mother, as I think I have already sufficiently
indicated, was, on the other hand, more demonstrative. I think she must
have had a positive genius for conspiracy. Whatever the movement was she
must have a hand in it. On one occasion--I forget exactly what it
was--some compromising documents had to be got out of the way for the
time being. In those days sloops used to come over from Ireland with
potatoes, and the cargoes used to be sold on the quay at the King's
Dock. She often bought a load of potatoes here to supply a small general
shop which she kept to help out my father's earnings. It was under such
a load of potatoes that she had brought home that she concealed the
dangerous documents.

It was in June, 1848, in the columns of the "Nation" that I first met
with the name of Bernard MacAnulty. In after years I worked in
successive national movements with him, and ever found him a dear friend
and most active and enthusiastic colleague. As showing that he was a man
of advanced proclivities, I may mention that he wrote to the "Nation"
suggesting the formation of the "Felon Repeal Club" in
Newcastle-on-Tyne. From then up to the last day of his life he was the
same generous whole-souled Irishman he had been from the beginning. His
stalwart frame and pleasant, genial face were well known during the
whole of the Home Rule movement, in which I was thrown into frequent
contact with him, when we were both members of the Executive of the Home
Rule Confederation of Great Britain.

He was a North man, from the County Down, a successful merchant--having
started life as a packman--in Newcastle-on-Tyne, and so won the respect
of all classes that he was elected a member of the Town Council, in
which he served with great credit. The northern Catholic, who is so
often a pure Celt, is sometimes credited with having acquired some of
the qualities of his Presbyterian neighbours of Lowland Scots
extraction. But this is only on the surface, and Bernard MacAnulty was a
typical example of this. No braver or more generous Irishman ever
breathed, and he had a fund of humour which would have done credit to
the quickest-witted Connaughtman or Munsterman that ever lived. Though
the Ulster accent is generally regarded as a hard one, I never thought
it was so with my friend. Perhaps this is owing to my partiality as a
County Down man, which, though born in Antrim, I always consider myself,
Down being the native place of my people from time immemorial. I have
always thought that the people born and reared, as Bernard was, among
the Mourne Mountains and their surroundings have anything but an
unmusical accent.

In connection with the Fenian movement my dear old friend was a strong,
active, and generous sympathiser. His purse was always available for
every good National object, whether "legal" or "illegal," and I know as
a fact that many a good fellow "on the run" found shelter under his
roof, and never went away empty-handed.



CHAPTER V.

THE "NO-POPERY" MANIA--THE TENANT LEAGUE--THE CURRAGH CAMP.


The restoration of the Catholic Hierarchy, September 29th, 1850, brought
on what appeared to us one of John Bull's periodical fits of lunacy. I
witnessed many scenes of mob violence at the time, when, in deference to
the prevailing bigotry in opposing what they termed "Papal Aggression" a
part of the Penal Laws were revived in Lord John Russell's
Ecclesiastical Titles Act. In due course John got over his paroxysm, and
the Act was repealed.

But for a time the storm of bigotry raged fiercely, and, as the
following incident will show, while the mania lasted even the police
were not entirely free from it.

The site of the noble Gothic edifice, Holy Cross Church, Great Crosshall
Street, Liverpool, was, at this time, occupied by a ramshackle place
made into a temporary chapel out of a number of old houses. It was so
constructed that from any part you could see the altar, if you could not
always hear Mass.

This was not, however, an unusual thing in Liverpool in the old days,
particularly in the Famine years, when our panic-stricken people came
into Liverpool like the wreck of a routed army.

The chief feature of the old Holy Cross Chapel was a long narrow flight
of stairs, leading from Standish Street, the side street off Great
Crosshall Street, up to a higher part of the building which served the
purpose of a gallery.

The famous Dr. Cahill came to Holy Cross to preach, and every part of
the building was crowded to suffocation. In the middle of the sermon an
alarm was raised of a broken beam or something of the kind, and the
people commenced to rush down the narrow stairs in a state of panic.

Such of them as could crush their way out, instead of being assisted,
were set upon and assaulted with their batons by several policemen, who
were in the street outside. So great was the indignation in the town,
that a public inquiry was held, and it was proved that the police not
only brutally struck men, women and children, but even a blind man who
was trying to grope his way out. They also used foul expressions about
"Popery" and the "bloody Papists," and it was afterwards proved that
these very men had themselves raised the alarm, apparently to get an
excuse for breaking the heads of the unfortunate people. An honest
police official, whose duty it afterwards became to make a report of
what had occurred, came upon the scene, and did what he could to stop
the brutality.

When Dowling, the head constable, came to the police office next
morning, and saw the official report in the book kept for the purpose,
he caused the leaf containing it to be torn out, and another report by
one Sergeant Tomlinson to be substituted for it. Mr. Mansfield, the
stipendiary magistrate, who conducted the inquiry, denounced Dowling and
Tomlinson for what he called "the disgraceful and discreditable
suppression of the report which," he added, "was no doubt true. He had
never heard of more disgraceful proceedings in his life."

Pending a fuller investigation, the police office books were impounded,
and, as a result of the inquiry, several of the police were suspended.
Dowling was dismissed from his post as head constable of Liverpool, and
lost a retiring pension which, if all had been well with him, he would
have come in for a short time afterwards.

An amusing story is told of a Liverpool daily paper in those days. It
was struggling with adversity, and the manager, a worthy Scotsman, sat
in his office on Monday morning with the weekly statement before him,
showing increasing expense and decreasing revenue.

To him entered a Liverpool parson--very determined and very menacing. He
had asked for the editor, but that gentleman had not yet come down, and
the manager was the only person in authority visible, so he had to make
shift with him.

"I am here," the parson said, "as the mouthpiece of a large number of
people who are not satisfied with the attitude of the 'Liverpool ----'
on the great question of the hour--Whether Popery is to dominate our
liberties or are we to crush Popery?"

"Yes," said the manager, wearily, his mind still on the balance sheet.
"What do you complain of?"

"I wish to tell you, sir," said the parson, with impressive emphasis,
"that only this morning I have heard the belief expressed by merchants
on 'Change that the 'Liverpool ----' is actually in the pay of the Pope
of Rome!"

In a second a ray of light seemed to irradiate the gloom of the
manager's soul, as he contemplated in a flash of thought the untold
treasures of the Vatican--

"Man!" he exclaimed fervently, "I wish to Heaven it was!"

But the numerous exhibitions of bigotry stirred up in connection with
Lord John Russell's Ecclesiastical Titles Act were of trifling
consequence compared with the injury done to the Irish people arising
out of the same Act. For it led to the ruin of the Tenant Right
agitation in Ireland, in which the Irish people, Protestant as well as
Catholic, had been united as they had not been since 1798 and the days
of Grattan's Parliament.

For the Tenant League and the Irish Party in Parliament had in their
ranks some of the greatest rascals who had ever disgraced Irish
politics. These, while posing as the champions of Catholicity in
opposing Lord John Russell's bill, were simply working for their own
base ends, and were afterwards known and execrated as the Sadlier-Keogh
gang.

Their infamous betrayal of the Irish tenantry dashed the hopes and
destroyed the union of North and South from which so much was expected,
besides creating a distrust in constitutional agitation which lasted for
nearly a generation.

The after fate of the Sadlier-Keogh gang--including the suicide of John
Sadlier and the scarcely less wretched end of Keogh--have ever since
been terrible object-lessons to the Irish people.

In his later years I enjoyed the friendship of one of the most
distinguished of the Tenant Right leaders, who had also played a
prominent and honourable part in the Repeal and Young Ireland movements.
This was Charles Gavan Duffy, whom I met after his return from
Australia.

It was the Sadlier-Keogh treason, their selling themselves to the
Government after the most solemn promises to the contrary, and the way
in which their conduct had been condoned by so many of the hierarchy,
clergy and people of Ireland, that caused Gavan Duffy to lose heart for
the time, and to declare, as he left the country, in memorable
words--"that there was no more hope for Ireland than for a corpse on the
dissecting table."

But, as I learned from his own lips on his return to this country, he
never lost sight of the National movement while in Australia, where he
became first Minister of the Crown in a self-governing colony; and, on
his return, his old hope for the success of our Cause had, he assured
me, revived.

Charles Gavan Duffy having sailed for Australia on the 6th of November,
1855, John Cashel Hoey succeeded him as editor of the "Nation," he
having, as one of his colleagues, Alexander Martin Sullivan, who
afterwards became sole proprietor and responsible editor.

"A.M." Sullivan, as he was always called, was an upright man, who had a
very clear conception of his own policy in Irish matters. He frankly
accepted the British constitution, and worked inside those lines. To me,
when my country was concerned, the British constitution (with the making
of which neither I nor my people had ever had anything to do) was a
matter of very little moment. Any work for Ireland that commended itself
to my conscience and was practicable was good enough. Nevertheless, it
will ever be to me a source of pride that, from the moment when we first
knew each other to the hour of his death, we were the closest friends.

In connexion with the "Papal aggression" mania, Cardinal Wiseman was the
central figure against whom the storm of bigotry was chiefly directed. I
remember with pleasure that I took part in the reception given to him in
Liverpool by Father Nugent and the students of the Liverpool Catholic
Institute, by whom the Cardinal's fine play of "The Hidden Gem" was
performed in the Hall of the Institute during his stay in town. The
bringing of the Cardinal to Liverpool was only one of the many occasions
when the good Father was the medium through whom, from time to time, a
number of distinguished Catholics and Irishmen were brought into
intimate contact with their co-religionists and fellow-countrymen in the
town for the advancement of some worthy object connected with creed or
nationality--most frequently with both.

I have described the St. Patrick's Day annual processions in Liverpool.
Notwithstanding some grand features in connection with them, they were,
unfortunately, sometimes the occasion of rioting and intemperance.
Father Nugent was of Irish parentage and sympathies, and possessed of
great zeal, capacity, energy and eloquence. He determined to make a new
departure in celebrating the national anniversary, for though the
processions were magnificent displays, and it was not the fault of their
promoters if ever there was any scandal arising out of them, still there
was much that was inconsistent with a worthy celebration of the feast of
the national saint of Ireland. Calling a number of young Irishmen
together, of whom I was one, he, with their help, organised on a grand
scale a festival which was held in one of the large public halls of the
town. So successful was the first of these that they became an annual
institution, which superseded the previous out-door celebrations.

On these occasions there were selections of Irish music and song, and
oratory from some distinguished Irishman, with an eloquent and stirring
panegyric on St. Patrick from Father Nugent himself, making a more
creditable and enjoyable celebration of the national festival than had
ever been held in the town before.

Such celebrations as these (which have for many years past been held
under the auspices of the Irish national political organisation of the
day), have become common in the Irish centres of Great Britain. Indeed,
it has become one of the recognised duties of the members of the Irish
Parliamentary Party to hold themselves in readiness to be drafted off to
one or another of these gatherings, which are the means of keeping
steadily burning the fire of patriotism in the breasts of our people.
And what is of consequence from a financial point of view, the proceeds
of these gatherings help to provide the sinews of war for carrying on
the Home Rule campaign in Great Britain. For over half a century, from
the time when I assisted Father Nugent with his first celebration, I
took an active part in organising these gatherings in many places.

I said at the commencement that I knew little of Ireland from personal
contact with it. Born there, I was too young to remember being brought
to England. For some months I was there again, as I have already
mentioned, as a boy of twelve, under the care of my uncle, the Rev.
Michael O'Loughlin. I had often desired to see more of Ireland, and,
singularly enough, it was the Crimean War that gave me the opportunity
of spending another three months there in the summer of 1855.

A large firm in Liverpool had part of the contract for erecting the
wooden houses and other buildings at the camp being erected on the
Curragh of Kildare at the time of the war. I made application, and, with
my brother Bernard, was employed to go there. Reaching the Curragh, we
found that many of the men slept in the huts they were erecting, being
supplied by the contractors with the requisite bed and bedding. The
contractors also erected a large "canteen," to be used afterwards by the
military where the workmen could be supplied with food and drink--too
much drink sometimes. These arrangements for food and sleeping were
somewhat necessary, as the nearest towns, Kildare, Kilcullen, and
Newbridge were each some three miles off.

But we were anxious to see as much of the country and of the people as
we could, and, besides, did not care for the mixed company sleeping in
the huts. We therefore managed to secure lodgings with the Widow Walsh,
on the road leading from the Curragh to Suncroft. The widow's husband
had but recently died, leaving her a pretty good farm, and, with the aid
of her family--one of them a fine, grown-up young man--she was able to
hold on to the land. But the ready cash she got from the Curragh men who
came to lodge with her was useful too. It was a good big house of the
kind, and the widow made use of every available inch of it, so that she
had about a dozen of us in all. Mrs. Walsh, though an easy-going soul
herself, had a fine bouncing girl to help her, but, with a dozen hungry
men coming with a rush at night, it used to be a scramble for the
cooking utensils, as we were largely left to our own devices. We used to
leave early in the morning for our work on the Curragh, taking with us
the materials for our breakfasts and dinners. As to the cooking, some
went to the canteen, while others got their meals wherever they happened
to be working. As there were plenty of chips and small cuttings of wood,
only fit for that purpose, we used to make of these big fires on the
short grass, and we boiled our water for tea or coffee and our eggs, and
frizzled our chops or bacon at the end of a long stick.

I have mentioned before that whenever one finds work particularly
laborious he is fairly certain to find Irishmen at it. It was so at the
Curragh. When a carpenter or joiner lays down the boarding of a floor,
if there is only a small quantity of it he planes it down himself to
make an even surface. But if there is a large quantity this does not
pay, and the contractor brings in another artist called a "flogger,"
who, in nine cases out of ten, in my time, was an Irishman. It was
generally given out as "piece work" to one man, the "master-flogger," as
you might term him, who employed the others. One of these, a very decent
Irishman, Tom Cassidy, whom I had known in Liverpool, had the contract
for the work at the Curragh Camp, and he had about a score of his
fellow-countrymen working for him.

Going back to Liverpool for a holiday, while my brother and I were still
at the Curragh, honest Tom called on my father and mother, who knew him
well. They were glad to hear that he was lodging at the Widow Walsh's,
and could tell them all about their boys. This he could do most
truthfully without letting his imagination run away with him. "Aye,
indeed," he said, "Barney and John are lodging in the one house with me,
with a decent widow woman, and many a glass we had together at Igoe's."
Tom had put in this bit of "local colouring" about Igoe's to show the
good fellowship between us, but as their sons were both teetotalers,
the old people knew that this could not be true, and the rest of his
story was somewhat discredited in consequence.

Igoe's was a public house just on the corner of the road leading from
the Curragh to Suncroft. What between the workmen at the Camp and the
soldiers and the militia, Igoe's must have been doing a roaring trade at
this time. Which reminds me that I one day saw John O'Connell (son of
the Liberator), then a captain in the Dublin militia, trying to get a
lot of his men, who were the worse for liquor, out of Igoe's. It could
not be said that he did not give an edifying example to his men, for I
saw him, on another occasion, going to Holy Communion, at the Soldiers'
Mass, where the altar was fixed up under a verandah in the officers'
quarter, the men being assembled in the open square in front. He was a
well-meaning man, and tried to carry on the Repeal Association after his
father's death, but it soon collapsed, for the mantle of Dan was
altogether too big for John.

Although he generally showed himself bitterly opposed to the Young
Irelanders, he was a poetical contributor to the "Nation," where I find
him represented by two very fine pieces--"Was it a Dream?" and "What's
my Thought Like?" In the latter piece he pictures Ireland--

  No longer slave to England! but her sister if she will--
  Prompt to give friendly aid at need, and to forget all ill!
  But holding high her head, and, with serenest brow,
  Claiming, amid earth's nations all, her fitting station now.

I never met his brother Maurice, but I could imagine his a more
congenial spirit with the "Young Irelanders" than any other of the
O'Connell family. He, too, is represented in "The Spirit of the Nation"
by his rousing "Recruiting Song of the Irish Brigade" which, sung to the
air of "The White Cockade," has always been a favourite of mine.

A fine, genial old priest, full of gossip and old-time stories, was
Father MacMahon, of Suncroft. If he met one of us on the road he would
stop to have a gossip, and was always delighted when he found, as he
often did, along with an English tongue an Irish heart. From him it was
I heard the legend of St. Brigid's miraculous mantle and the origin of
the Curragh--how the saint, to get "as much land as would graze a poor
man's cow" made the very modest request from the king for as much ground
as her mantle would cover; how he agreed, and she laid her mantle down
on the "short grass;" how, to the king's astonishment, it spread and
spread, until it covered the whole of the ground of what is now the
Curragh; and how it would have spread over all Ireland but that it met
with a red-haired woman, and that, as everybody knows, is unlucky.
Whenever, in our rambles along the country roads we afterwards met a
red-haired woman, we used to wonder was she a descendant of the female
who stopped the growth of the Curragh of Kildare.

Father MacMahon could also tell us of the gallant fight made by the men
of Kildare, and the massacre of the unarmed people on the Curragh in
1798. Many of the men from the Curragh used to come to Mass on Sundays
at Suncroft, and often in his sermons--which were none the less edifying
because they were given in the same free and easy style as his gossips
with us on the road--he would tell his people of the talks he had had
with the men from the Camp, and what good Irishmen he found among them.
They, in their turn, were very fond of the good father, and most of them
took a practical way of showing their feeling when it came to the
offertory.

Dear old Father MacMahon! I took up an Irish Church Directory the other
day and looked for the little village of Suncroft, in the dioceses of
Kildare and Leighlin, to see if your name was still there, foolishly
forgetting that it is over fifty years since we met--you an old man and
I a young one. I am an old man now, and you--you dear good old
soul--must have gone to your reward long ago, where you in your turn
will be hearing from St. Brigid herself, and from the fine old Irish
king who gave the Curragh, the true story of the miraculous mantle; and
how the king did not make such a bad bargain after all, for, in exchange
for his gift, he now, doubtless, has what St. Brigid promised, a kingdom
far greater than even her mantle would cover--the Kingdom of Heaven.

On Sundays we used to have long walks. We did not often go near
Newbridge--it was too much like an ordinary English military station. We
preferred going to Kildare, where stands the first Irish Round Tower I
ever saw, and where the fine old ruined church of St. Brigid put us in
mind of the patron saint of Ireland; or to Kilcullen, where the brave
Kildare pikemen routed General Dundas in 1798; and to others of the
neighbouring places. We reviewed, too, every part of the famous Curragh
itself, so full of memories--glorious and sad--of Irish history.

As fast as we finished them, the huts we were building were occupied by
the military, and, whether regulars or militia, I found among them,
driven to wear the uniform by stress of circumstances, as good Irishmen
as I ever met. Coming home from work one evening, I met on the road to
the Curragh a party of them, carrying, for want of a better banner, a
big green bush, and singing "The Green Flag." Then, as they came in
sight of the famous plain itself, a man struck up:--

  Where will they have their camp?
                 Says the _Shan Van Voct_

When, as if moved by one impulse, all joined in:--

  On the Curragh of Kildare,
  And the boys will all be there,
  With their pikes in good repair--
                 Says the _Shan Van Voct_!

"Igoe's porter!" a cynic might say. True, there may have been a glass or
two and a little harmless rejoicing, but this was too spontaneous to be
anything but the outpouring of the good, honest warm hearts of the poor
fellows, burning with love for the land that bore them.

Peter Maughan, who, like myself, was a house joiner, working at the
Curragh, had similar experiences. Indeed, you might say that he was then
qualifying himself for the part he very efficiently filled some years
later in the Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood, as recruiting officer
among the soldiery of Britain. Of course, he found scoundrels amongst
them too, for, as the history of the Fenian movement shows, he was
himself betrayed and sent to penal servitude.

Before I returned to England I had a most interesting tour through the
South of Ireland, that being, I may say, the most I have ever actually
seen of my own country. Having a taste for drawing, I took sketches of
the various noted places I visited, which I preserved for many
years--the most cherished remembrances of my visit to the "old sod."

After returning from the Curragh to Liverpool, I married there and
carried on business on my own account for several years as a joiner and
builder, before taking service with Father Nugent, first as secretary of
his Boy's Refuge, and then as conductor for some three years of his
newspaper, the "Northern Press and Catholic Times."



CHAPTER VI.

THE IRISH REVOLUTIONARY BROTHERHOOD--ESCAPE OF JAMES STEPHENS--PROJECTED
RAID ON CHESTER CASTLE--CORYDON THE INFORMER.


The trials in 1859, following the arrests in connection with the Phoenix
movement, with which the name of Jeremiah O'Donovan (called also
"Rossa," after his native place) was identified, were the first public
manifestations of what developed into the great organisation known in
America as the Fenian Brotherhood, and, on this side of the Atlantic as
the I.R.B., or Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood.

Many years afterwards "Rossa" called at the office of the Irish National
League in London, to see his old fellow-conspirator, James Francis
Xavier O'Brien, then General Secretary of the constitutional
organisation for the attainment of "Home Rule." As I was chief organiser
for the League in Great Britain, and was in the, office at the time, I
was introduced to his old comrade (who had, he said, often heard of me)
by "J.F.X.," as we used to call him, and it was to me a delightful
experience to hear the two old warriors, who had done and suffered so
much for Ireland, fighting their battles over again.

I was sitting in my office in Father Nugent's Refuge one day, about the
beginning of 1866, when my old friend, John Ryan, was shown in to me.

As we had not seen each other for several years, our greeting was a most
cordial one. Though we had not met, I had heard of him from mutual
friends from time to time as being actively connected with the physical
force movement for the freedom of Ireland.

During this time I had often wished to see him, and I found that exactly
the same idea had been in _his_ mind regarding me; our object being the
same--my initiation into the ranks of the Irish Revolutionary
Brotherhood, of which he was an organiser.

A word perhaps is due here--for I wish to pay respect to the opinion of
every man--to those Irishmen who call themselves loyalists. On close
analysis their language and arguments appear to me to be meaningless. A
study of the history of the world and of the origins of civil power show
that there is only one thing that is recognisable as giving a good and
stable title to any government, and that is the consent of the governed.

A man who is a member of a community owes a duty to the community in
return for the benefit arising out of his membership, but his
duty--which he may call loyalty if he pleases--is proportionate to the
share which he possesses in the imposition of responsibilities upon
himself. The application of this to Ireland is obvious, and it explains
why in so many cases a man who has been a rebel in Ireland has
afterwards risen to the highest place in the self-governing communities
which are called British colonies. To put it in another way, a community
of intelligent men must be self-governing, or else it will be a
forcing-house for rebels. I don't see any third way.

As I have before suggested, the two questions that have always presented
themselves to me in connection with work for Ireland have been--first,
is it right? Second, is it practicable? In joining the I.R.B. I had no
doubt on either ground. As to the first, the misgovernment of Ireland,
of which I had seen the hideous fruits in the Famine years and
emigration, was ample justification. As to the second, there was every
likelihood of the success of the movement. It will be remembered that
during these years the great Civil War in America was going on, in which
many thousands of our fellow-countrymen, were engaged on both sides,
mostly, however, for the North. A great number of these had entered into
this service chiefly with the object of acquiring the military training
intended to be used in fighting on Irish soil for their country's
freedom. Such an opportunity seemed likely to arise, for during this
time the "Alabama Claims" and other matters brought America and England
to the verge of war. Had such a conflict arisen, one result of it, as
Mr. Gladstone and other British statesmen could not but have foreseen,
would probably be the severance of the connexion, once for all, between
Ireland and Great Britain.

John Ryan, knowing me so well, felt tolerably assured that no argument
from him would be required to induce me to join the I.R.B.;
consequently, one of the first things he did was, at my request, to
administer to me the oath of allegiance to the Irish Republic, as the
saying went, "now virtually established."

After this we had a long _seanchus_, I telling him of all that had
happened among our friends during his frequent absences from Liverpool,
and he describing to me many of the adventures of himself and other
prominent men in the movement, which were to me both interesting and
exciting. Among these were his assistance in the escape of James
Stephens, of which I will speak later.

Before we parted, he arranged with me for my acting in Liverpool as a
medium of communication in the organisation. In this way I was, for
several years, brought into constant contact with the leaders, nearly
all of whom I met from time to time.

I think the most capable Irishmen I ever met were the various members of
the Breslin family, with several of whom I was intimately acquainted.
Bravest among the brave, as they proved themselves at many a critical
moment, there were none more prudent. John Breslin was hospital steward
in Richmond Prison when James Stephens, the Fenian chief, was imprisoned
there awaiting his trial.

John Devoy was the man who successfully carried through, under the
direction of Colonel Kelly, the outside arrangements in connection with
the escape of the C.O.I.R. (Chief Organiser of the Irish Republic), as
he was called, in the early morning of the 24th of November, 1865.

But John Breslin it was who, with the assistance of Daniel Byrne, night
watchman, actually set Stephens free. Byrne was arrested and put upon
his trial for aiding the escape of Stephens, but nothing could be
brought home to him, and, after two successive juries had disagreed on
his case, he was released. Breslin, the chief instrument in the rescue,
was not suspected. He simply bided his time until he took his annual
holiday, from which he never returned, leaving the country before there
was any suspicion of him. Michael Breslin, his brother, held a
responsible position in the Dublin police, and was the means of
frustrating many a well-laid scheme of the Castle, so that if the
Government had its creatures in the revolutionary camp, the I.R.B. had
agents in theirs.

Another, as I have already mentioned, who took part in the Stephens
rescue was my friend John Ryan, better known in the Brotherhood as
Captain O'Doherty. At our interview in Liverpool on the occasion of my
initiation, he gave me a full account of this among other incidents. He
was, like Peter Maughan, an old schoolfellow of mine with the Christian
Brothers in Liverpool. He was one of the men picked out by Colonel Kelly
to be on guard when the "old man"--one of Stephens' pet nick-names--came
over the prison wall. Ryan was a fine type of an Irishman, morally,
intellectually and physically. As Stephens slipped down from the wall,
holding on to the rope, he came with such force on my friend's
shoulders as almost to bear him to the ground. In my "Irish in Britain"
I have described in detail how Breslin got a key made for Stephens'
cell, and how he and Byrne helped the C.O.I.R. over the prison wall to
where his friends awaited him, and also the adventures of the Fenian
leader after his escape from Richmond.

The man who made the key for Stephens' cell, from a mould taken by John
Breslin, was Michael Lambert, a trusted member of the I.R.B. Though his
name was well known to the initiated at the time, it never was mentioned
until later years, he being always referred to previously as "the
optician."

After remaining in concealment several months Stephens got away from
Ireland. The craft in which he escaped was one of a fleet of fishing
hookers which sailed from Howth and Kinsale when engaged in their
regular work. The owner, who was delighted to have a hand in such an
enterprise, was a warm-hearted and patriotic Irishman, Patrick De Lacy
Garton, for whom I acted as conducting agent, when he was returned by
the votes of his fellow-countrymen to the Liverpool Town Council, where
he sat as a Home Ruler.

I met several times, during 1866 and later, one of the most remarkable
men connected with the organisation. He was known as "Beecher," and was
a man of singular astuteness, as he required to be, particularly at the
time when, unknown to his colleagues, Corydon was giving information to
the police. If at any time Beecher had fallen into their hands, they
might have made a splendid haul, which would have paralysed the movement
on this side of the Atlantic, for he was the "Paymaster." Captain
Michael O'Rorke--otherwise "Beecher"--was a well-balanced combination of
sagacity, cautiousness and daring, as you could not fail to see, if
brought into contact with him a few times. Stephens had the most
abounding confidence in him, and it was well deserved. A native of
Roscommon, he emigrated to America when a boy of thirteen. When the
Civil War broke out he joined the Federal Army, and served with much
distinction. He was a member of the Fenian Brotherhood, and was greatly
pleased to be called upon for active service in Ireland, and, sailing
from New York, he reached Dublin on the 27th of July, 1865, when he
reported himself to the C.O.I.R. He was entrusted with the payment of
the American officers then in Ireland and Great Britain, which duty, I
need scarcely say, involved his keeping in constant touch with them. In
this way I, from time to time, came in contact with him in Liverpool,
and was much impressed with the perfect way in which he carried out his
arduous duties. Before Stephens left for America, in March, 1866, he
directed Captain O'Rorke to send all the officers not arrested, and then
in Ireland, over to England. This was a proper measure of prudence, as
the Irish Americans would be less objects of suspicion, and less liable
to arrest here than in Ireland. He had fifty officers, and sometimes
more, to provide for as Paymaster, or, as the informers and detectives
had it, the "Fenian Paymaster." He had to visit in this way at various
times all parts of the British organisation, sometimes paying his men
personally, and at other times by letter, forwarded through trusted
Irishmen in various places who had not laid themselves open to
suspicion. But he had to run his head into the lion's mouth
occasionally, too, for it was part of his duty to visit Dublin at least
once a month. As a matter of precaution, there were but few who knew of
any address where he might be found. At a time when Corydon had started
to give information, but before "Beecher" actually knew of it, the
informer gave an address of his where he thought the "Paymaster" was to
be found to the Liverpool police. Major Greig, the chief constable, and
a strong body of his men, surrounded the house, but the bird had flown.
After that, he was more cautious than ever, only letting his whereabouts
be known when it was absolutely necessary.

A noted man among the Fenians was "Pagan O'Leary." Jack Ryan told me of
how he rather surprised the prison officials when they came to classify
him under the head "Religion." Being asked what he was, he said he was a
Pagan. No, they said, they could not accept that--they had headings _in
their books_, "Roman Catholic," "Protestant," and "Presbyterian," but
not "Pagans." "Well," he said, "You have two kinds, the 'Robbers'
(meaning Protestants) and the 'Beggars' (Catholics), and if I must
choose, put me down a 'Beggar.'"

A startling incident in connection with the Fenian movement, the daring
plan to seize Chester Castle, will enable me to introduce two
exceedingly interesting characters with whom I came in contact at this
time. The idea was to bring sufficient men from various parts of
England, armed with concealed revolvers, to overpower the garrison,
which at the time was a very weak one, and to seize the large store of
arms then in the Castle. In connection with this, arrangements had been
made for the cutting of wires, the taking up of rails, and the seizure
of sufficient engines and waggons to convey the captured arms to
Holyhead, whence, a steamer having been seized there for the purpose,
the arms were to be taken to Ireland, and the standard of insurrection
raised. Of John Ryan, one of the leaders of this raid, I have already
spoken. Another of them, Captain John McCafferty, was one of the
Irish-American officers who had crossed the Atlantic to take part in the
projected rising in Ireland. I met him several times in Liverpool in
company with John Ryan, and, from his own lips, got an account of his
adventurous career up to that time.

Most of the American officers I came in contact with during these years
had served in the Federal Army, but McCafferty fought on the side of the
South in the American Civil War. He was a thorough type of a guerilla
leader. With his well-proportioned and strongly-knit frame, and handsome
resolute-looking bronzed face, you could imagine him just the man for
any dashing and daring enterprise.

I frequently met John Flood, too, whose name, with that of McCafferty,
is associated with the Chester raid. He was then about thirty years of
age, a fine, handsome man, tall and strong, wearing a full and flowing
tawny-coloured beard. He had a genial-looking face, and, in your
intercourse with him, you found him just as genial as he looked. He was
a man of distinguished bearing, who you could imagine would fill with
grace and dignity the post of Irish Ambassador to some friendly power.
He was a Wexford man, full of the glorious traditions of '98. He took an
active part in aiding the escape of James Stephens from Ireland. With
Colonel Kelly he was aboard the hooker in which the C.O.I.R. escaped,
and to his skill and courage and rare presence of mind was largely due
the fact that Stephens did not again fall into the hands of his enemies.

From then up to the time immediately preceding the Chester raid, he
frequently called on me in Liverpool in company with John Ryan.

Father McCormick, of Wigan, a patriotic Irish priest, used to tell me,
too, of the men coming to confession to him on their way to Chester, and
afterwards to Ireland, for the rising on Shrove Tuesday. And yet these
were the kind of men for whom, according to a certain Irish bishop,
"Hell was not hot enough nor Eternity long enough."

When John Ryan informed me of the plans that were being matured for the
seizure of the arms and ammunition in Chester Castle, I volunteered for
any duty that might be allotted to me. It was settled that I should hold
myself in readiness to carry out when called upon certain mechanical
arrangements in connection with the raid with a view to prevent
reinforcements from reaching Chester.

These arrangements were to consist of the taking up of the rails on
certain railway lines and the cutting of the telegraphic wires leading
into Chester. I, therefore, surveyed the ground, and besides the
required personal assistance, had in readiness crowbars, sledges, and,
among other implements, the wrenches for unscrewing the nuts of the
bolts fastening the fishplates which bound together the rails, end to
end. I now held myself prepared for the moment when the call to action
would reach me.

This, however, never came, for I found afterwards that the leaders had
learned in time of Corydon's betrayal of the project, and made their
arrangements accordingly.

I heard nothing further of the projected Chester expedition until
Monday, February 11th, 1867.

My employment was at this time in Liverpool, but I lived on the opposite
bank of the Mersey, at New Ferry. Anybody who has to travel in and out
of town, as I did by the ferry boat, to his employment gets so
accustomed to his fellow-passengers that he knows most of them by sight.
But this morning it was different. In a sense some of those I saw were
strangers to me, but I had a kind of instinct that they were my own
people. They were fine, athletic-looking young men, and had a
travel-stained appearance, as if they had been walking some distance
over dusty roads.

When I reached the landing stage and saw the morning's papers I got the
explanation--the police had heard of the projected raid.

These were our men returning from Chester, having been stopped on the
road by friends posted there for the purpose, and turned back--and were
now on their way through Liverpool to their homes in various parts of
Lancashire and Yorkshire. It seemed that the information of the project
being abandoned had not reached them in time to prevent many of the men
leaving their homes for Chester.

I heard from John Ryan, whom I saw a few days afterwards, that the word
had been sent round to a certain number of circles in the North of
England and the Midlands to move a number of picked men, some on the
Sunday night and some early on the Monday morning, and that the
promptness and cheerfulness with which the order was obeyed was
astonishing; so that, probably, not less than two thousand men were, by
different routes, quietly converging on Chester. Among these was Michael
Davitt and others, from Haslingden as well as from several other
Lancashire towns.

But it was promptly discovered that information had been given to the
police authorities almost at the last moment. Those, therefore, who had
already reached Chester were sent back, and men were placed at the
railway stations and on the roads leading to Chester to stop those who
were coming. In this way the whole of the men forming the expedition
dispersed as silently as they had come.

Corydon had given the information to Major Greig, the Liverpool Head
Constable, who at once communicated with Chester, where prompt measures
were taken to meet the threatened invasion.

According to his own evidence in the subsequent trial, Corydon had been
giving information to the police since the previous September. There had
been some suspicious circumstances in connection with him. A man
resembling him in appearance, and evidently disguised, had been seen in
company with individuals supposed to be police agents. But as there was
a man belonging to the organisation named Arthur Anderson, who strongly
resembled Corydon, the real informer, suspicion fell upon Anderson.

After Corydon had thrown off the mask and openly appeared as an
informer, I had an opportunity of seeing him, and, so far as my memory
serves me, this is what he was like: At first sight you might set him
down as a third-rate actor or circus performer. He wore a frock coat,
buttoned tightly, to set off a by no means contemptible figure, and
carried himself with a jaunty, swaggering air, after the conventional
style of a theatrical "professional." He was about the middle height, of
wiry, active build, with features clearly cut, thin face, large round
forehead, a high aquiline nose, thick and curly hair, decidedly "sandy"
in colour, and heavy moustache of the same tinge. His cheeks and chin
were denuded of beard.

It was in the Liverpool Police Court I saw John Joseph Corydon, as the
newspapers spelled his name--if it were his name, which is very
doubtful, for it was said in Liverpool that he was the son of an
abandoned woman of that town.

There was at that time a reporter named Sylvester Redmond, whom I knew
very well, a very decent Irishman, who made a special feature of giving
humorous descriptions of the cases in the police court. I was told by
someone in Court that the man whose hand Sylvester was so cordially
shaking was the noted informer, Corydon. I was very much disgusted with
the old gentleman, until I heard afterwards that some wag among the
police had introduced the informer to him as a distinguished
fellow-countryman.

After the collapse of the Chester scheme, McCafferty and Flood made
their way to Ireland to be ready for the Rising, but were arrested in
Dublin, charged with being concerned in the raid on Chester. They were
both in due course put upon their trials, and sent into penal servitude.

I find, from a graphic sketch written for my "Irish Library" by William
James Ryan, that in the convict ship that took John Flood into penal
servitude was another distinguished Irishman, John Boyle O'Reilly, whose
offence against British rule was his successful recruiting for the
I.R.B. among the soldiery. Another lieutenant of John Devoy, who had
charge of the organisation of the British army, was an old schoolfellow
of mine with the Liverpool Christian Brothers, Peter Maughan, of whom I
have already spoken as a fellow-workman at the Curragh.

Before joining the I.R.B. Peter had been a member of the "Brotherhood of
St. Patrick," an organisation which furnished many members to the "Irish
Revolutionary Brotherhood."

Most of the Fenian prisoners were amnestied before the completion of
their full terms. I have a letter in my possession from John McCafferty
to our mutual friend, William Hogan, written from Millbank Prison, 6th
June, 1871. In this he regrets that the terms of his release will not
allow of his paying Hogan a visit. He says:--

     I know there are many who would like to shake my hand and bid me a
     kind farewell. God bless you before my departure. My route will
     afford me no opportunity of seeing the iron-bound coast of the home
     of my forefathers. Still God may allow me to see that isle
     again--Yes, and then perhaps I may meet somebody on the hills.

He concludes with love to William Hogan's family and "Kind regard to
each and every friend."

McCafferty did, I know, see the "iron-bound" coast of Ireland again, for
a few years after this an extremely mild and inoffensive-looking,
dark-complexioned person, with black side whiskers, came into my
place--I was carrying on a printing and newsagency business--in Byron
Street, Liverpool, and, though I did not recognise him at first, I was
pleased to find that this Mr. Patterson, as he called himself, was no
other than my old friend John McCafferty.

The mission he was engaged on was one that can only be described by the
word amazing. So daring was it, so hedged around with apparent
impossibilities, that to the ordinary man its very conception would be
incredible. But McCafferty was perfectly serious and determined about
it, and to him it seemed practicable enough, provided only he could get
a few more men like himself: and indeed if the collection of just such a
company of conspirators _were_ practicable, no doubt the impossible
might become possible enough. But the hypothesis is fatal, for the
McCafferty strain is a rare one indeed, so that his project never got
further than an idea. I think, however, that I cannot be accused of
exaggeration in saying that if he had been successful in carrying out
his idea, his achievement would have formed the most extraordinary
chapter in English history--for it was no less than the abduction of the
then Prince of Wales, afterwards King Edward VII., and the holding of
him as a hostage for a purpose of the Fenian organisation.

The plan was to take him to sea in a sailing vessel, and to keep him
there, until the Fenian prisoners still at that time unreleased were set
at liberty. He was to be treated with the utmost consideration and--the
recollection is not without its humorous side--McCafferty had a
memorandum to spare no pains in finding what were the favourite
amusements of the Prince, so that he might have a "real good time" on
board.



CHAPTER VII.

THE RISING OF 1867--ARREST AND RESCUE OF KELLY AND DEASY--THE MANCHESTER
MARTYRDOM.


Although the Rising of 1867 had somewhat the character of "a flash in
the pan," there were some heroic incidents in connexion with it. With
one of the Fenian leaders, James Francis Xavier O'Brien, I was brought
into intimate connection many years after the Rising, when we were both
officials, he as General Secretary and I as Chief Organiser, of the Home
Rule organisation in Great Britain. When put upon his trial there was
evidence against him in connection with the taking of a police barrack,
he being in command of the insurgents. It was proved that he not only
acted with courage, but with a humanity that was commended by the judge,
in seeing that the women and children were got out safely before the
place was set on fire.

This, however, did not save him from being condemned to death--he was
the last man sentenced in the old barbarous fashion to be hanged, drawn
and quartered--this sentence being afterwards commuted to penal
servitude. Certainly, whether on the field or facing the scaffold for
Ireland there was no more gallant figure among the Fenian leaders than
James Francis Xavier O'Brien.

Few knew of his sterling worth as I did. For several years after his
return to liberty I was in close daily contact with this white-haired
mild-looking old gentleman--still tolerably active and supple,
though--who could blaze up and fight to the death over what he
considered a matter of principle. The most admirable feature in his
character was that, in all things you found him _straight_.

One of the Fenian chiefs I met in Liverpool was General Halpin, who, on
the night of the Rising, was in command of the district around Dublin.
The first of the insurgents who reached Tallaght, the place of
rendezvous on the night of the 5th of March, 1867, were received by a
volley from the police and dispersed. One party had captured the police
barracks at Glencullen and Stepaside, and disarmed the police, but on
approaching Tallaght, and hearing that all was over, they too dispersed.

While most of the Irish-American officers bore the marks of their
profession rather too prominently for safety against the observance of a
trained detective, General Halpin was the last man in the world anyone
would, from his appearance, take to be a soldier. He looked far more
like a comfortable Irish parish priest. And yet he was, perhaps, the
most thoroughly scientific soldier of all those that crossed the
Atlantic at this time.

Reading the evidence of Corydon in one of the trials, I find he
described Edmond O'Donovan as helping Halpin to make maps for use when
the Rising would take place. Knowing both men so well, I can say that
none better could be found for planning out a campaign. They were
thoroughly scientific men, and always anxious to impart their knowledge
to other Irishmen for the good of the Cause.

I remember Halpin one night, at what was a kind of select social
gathering, giving a number of us enthusiastic young men a lecture on the
construction of fortifications and earthworks.

We bade him farewell when he was leaving Liverpool after the Rising, and
thought he had got safely away to America, but, unfortunately, he was
identified at Queenstown in the outgoing steamer. He was arrested, put
upon his trial, and met the same fate as so many of his comrades.

Among the men I knew long ago, who afterwards became connected with
Fenianism, was Stephen Joseph Meany. He was for many years a journalist
in Liverpool, having been sub-editor of the "Daily Post" under Michael
James Whitty. He was an earnest and active Repealer and Young Irelander.
When I first came in contact with him he was starting the "Lancashire
Free Press," which, after passing through several hands and several
changes, of name, ultimately became the "Catholic Times," which was for
three years, when Father Nugent became the proprietor, under my
direction. Meany was a man of fine presence and handsome countenance, a
brilliant writer and an eloquent speaker. He went to America in 1860,
where he followed his original profession of journalism for several
years. He returned to this country again, and was arrested in 1867 on a
charge of Fenianism, and sentenced to fifteen years imprisonment.

Liverpool was flooded with refugees after the Rising, and it took us all
our time to find employment for them, or to get them away to America. We
had then in Liverpool a corps of volunteers known as "The Irish
Brigade." Whatever Nationalist organisation might exist in the town
always strongly condemned young Irishmen for joining the corps. All we
could urge against it, however, could not prevent our young men who were
coming over from Ireland at this time from joining the "Brigade" for the
purpose, they said, of learning and perfecting themselves in the use of
arms. Colonel Bidwell and the officers must have had a shrewd suspicion
of the truth, and there was a common remark in the town upon the
improved physical appearance of the "Brigade." This was, of course,
owing to the number of fine soldier-like young Irishmen who at this time
filled its ranks.

During the two years that followed the escape of Stephens, I met Colonel
Kelly several times in Liverpool. When I first saw him he would be about
thirty years of age. This is my remembrance of his personal appearance:
His forehead was broad and square, with the thick dark hair carefully
disposed about it. He had somewhat high cheek bones, and wore a pointed
moustache over a tolerably full beard. The general impression of his
face seemed to me slightly cynical, and he had a constant smile that
betokened self-possession and confidence. He sometimes wore a frock
coat, a light waistcoat buttoned high up, a black fashionable necktie,
and light well-made trousers. After surveying him in detail, you would
come to the conclusion that he was a man of daring enough to involve
himself in danger of life, and with sufficient address to extricate
himself from the peril. He was undoubtedly a man capable of winning the
confidence and even devotion of others, as was shown when, falling into
the hands of the Government, he was snatched from their grasp in the
open day on the streets of Manchester.

I met him some weeks after the Rising. The place of meeting reminded me
of the incident in one of Samuel Lover's stories--"Rory O'More"--to
which I have already alluded, for, in our later revolutionary movements,
as in 1798, projects of great importance had sometimes to be discussed
in public houses.

A few of the Liverpool men came to meet the leaders in a very humble
beer shop, kept by a decent County Down man, Owen McGrady, in one of the
poorer streets off Scotland Road. Here were met on this particular night
a notable company, which included, if I remember rightly, Colonel Kelly,
Colonel Rickard Burke, Captains Condon, Murphy, Deasy and O'Brien, all
American officers who had crossed the Atlantic for the Rising, and still
remained, hoping for another opportunity. There were about half a dozen
of the Liverpool men there. Of these I can remember a tall, fine-looking
young man, a schoolmaster from the North of Ireland, whom I then met for
the first time, my old school-fellow, John Ryan, and John Meagher, a
tailor, possessing the amount of eloquence you generally find in Irish
members of the craft. There was also present, if I remember rightly, Tom
Gates, of Newcastle.

Although the Rising had collapsed almost as soon as it commenced, the
determination to fight on Irish soil had by no means been given up by
the leaders in America. That was why the American officers on this side
remained at their posts, ready for active service at a moment's notice.
At the meeting we learned that there was at that moment an "Expedition,"
as it was termed, on the sea to co-operate with and bring arms for
another Rising in Ireland, should such be found practicable. It was
notorious that, notwithstanding all the efforts of active agents,
comparatively few arms had been got into Ireland. Indeed, my friend John
Ryan, who was in a position to know, estimated that there were not more
than a couple of thousands of rifles in Ireland at the time of the
Rising.

Let us see what became of the Expedition. This was, of course, what has
since become a matter of history--the secret despatch from New York of
the brigantine "Erin's Hope," having on board several Irish-American
officers, 5,000 stand of arms, three pieces of field artillery, and
200,000 cartridges. About the middle of May the vessel arrived in Irish
waters, agents going aboard at various points off the coast, including
Sligo Bay, which she reached on the 20th of May, 1867. By that time it
was found that the chances of another Rising were but slender, and the
"Erin's Hope" returned to America with her cargo, entirely unmolested
by the British cruisers, which were plentiful enough around the Irish
coast.

The expedition certainly proved that sufficient weapons to commence an
insurrection with could be thrown into Ireland, providing there was the
necessary co-operation at the time and places required.

I have often thought since of what became of those present in Owen
McGrady's beer house the night we met there to prepare for the reception
of the "Erin's Hope."

The arrest and rescue of Kelly and Deasy, two of these, in the following
September, and the fate of their gallant rescuers, formed the most
striking and startling chapter of Irish history during the nineteenth
century.

That such a scheme as the rescue of the two Fenian chiefs should be
successfully carried out, not in Ireland amid sympathisers, but in the
heart of a great English city, surrounded by a hostile population,
showed unexpected capacity and daring on the part of the revolutionary
organisation, and produced consternation in the British Government.

At this time the organisation of the Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood in
Great Britain had been placed in the hands of three of the
Irish-American officers, Captain Murphy, who had charge in Scotland,
Colonel Rickard Burke in the southern part of England, and Captain
Edward O'Meagher Condon in the northern counties.

Previous to the arrest of the two leaders on the morning of September
11th they, with Captain Michael O'Brien, had been staying with Condon,
upon whom now devolved the command, the capture of Kelly and Deasy
having taken place in his district.

He at once arranged for their food while in prison, for their defence in
the law courts, and for their rescue, in which latter enterprise he was
enthusiastically supported by the chief men of the Manchester circles.

But, whatever their good will and courage, they were deficient both in
money and arms for such a daring undertaking. Condon had, therefore, a
difficult task to accomplish. Money was soon raised, for our people are
ever generous and equal to the occasion when it arises. Daniel
Darragh--about whom I shall have more to say later--was sent to
Birmingham, where by the aid of William Hogan he purchased and brought
back with him sufficient revolvers to arm the volunteers for the rescue.
These last were picked men, the cream of the Manchester circles, and
there was some jealousy afterwards among many who had not been selected.
I need scarcely say that the utmost secrecy was required in connection
with such a perilous enterprise.

To Edward O'Meagher Condon belongs the credit of having organised,
managed, and carried out the Manchester Rescue, at the cost to himself,
as it turned out, of years of penal servitude, and almost of his life.
Though with the aid of Michael O'Brien and his Manchester friends he had
made all the arrangements, selecting the spot where the prison van was
to be stopped, assigning to every man his post, and providing for every
contingency, including the possibility of the rescuing party being taken
in the rear from Belle Vue prison, he wired for the assistance of
Captain Murphy and Colonel Burke, the message being that "his uncle was
dying."

Murphy was from home, but Burke came on to Manchester, and with Michael
O'Brien accompanied Condon on September 17th, the night before the
rescue, to meet the men chosen for the daring enterprise, when the arms
were distributed, each man's post on the following day allotted to him,
and the final arrangements made.

The two Fenian chiefs stayed with Condon that night, fighting their old
campaigns over again, e'er they retired to rest, not to meet again till
eleven years after the Manchester Rescue, when Condon and Burke came
across each other in New York, each having suffered in the interval a
long term of imprisonment, and it was the last night that Burke and
Condon passed on earth with Michael O'Brien, whose memory Irishmen, the
world over, honour as one of the "noble-hearted three"--the Manchester
Martyrs--who died for Ireland on the scaffold.

The secret of the intended rescue was closely guarded, and though the
Mayor of Manchester did get a warning wire from Dublin Castle, it
reached too late, and the birds had flown. When Kelly and Deasy were
brought before the city magistrates they were remanded. "They were,"
said the "Daily News," "placed in a cell with a view to removal to the
city jail at Belle Vue. At this time the police noticed outside the
court house two men hanging about whom they suspected to be Fenians, and
a policeman made a rush at one of them to arrest him, in which he
succeeded, but not until the man had drawn a dagger and attempted to
stab him, the blow being warded off. The other made his escape."

As to the incident just related, it seems that a patriotic but imprudent
man belonging to one of the Manchester circles had got to hear of the
intended rescue, and was indignant at being left out. His suspicious
conduct outside the court house drew the attention of the police--as we
have seen--with the result, as the paper said, that the authorities
became alarmed. Kelly and Deasy were put in irons on their removal, and
a strong body of police were sent with the van intended to take them to
Belle Vue Prison.

It was the custom for a policeman to ride outside the van, on the step
behind, but, on this occasion, owing to the incident just described,
Brett, the officer in charge, went _inside_ the van. The door was then
locked, and the keys handed to him through the ventilator.

It is certain that, up to this point, the Manchester police had no
suspicion of the intended rescue, and it was only the imprudent
behaviour of the man whom the police had arrested that caused additional
precautions to be taken. Certain it is that if the Manchester
authorities had had any information of the probability of an attempted
rescue there would have been a formidable escort of the police and
military.

With so much false swearing at the trials with regard to the facts of
the Manchester Rescue, it is important that the information given in
books for the benefit of the present and future generations of Irishmen
should be correct. It is serious that in some of our best books so
important a matter as the actual scene of the rescue is incorrectly
given. One book says: "The van drove off for the _County jail at
Salford_." In another description it is stated: "Just as the van passed
under the arch that spans Hyde Road at Belle Vue, a _point midway
between the city police office and the Salford Jail,_ etc." Following
this, one of our ablest writers, apparently quoting from the previous
descriptions, falls into the same error. I can readily understand how
these errors have arisen--the writers concerned have confounded the
place of the execution of the Manchester Martyrs, Salford Jail, with the
prison, Belle Vue, to which the prisoners were being taken on being
remanded.

The point chosen by Condon as the most suitable for the attack was
certainly where the railway bridge crosses Hyde Road, but if the van had
been going to Salford Jail it would have been in a totally different
direction.

Since writing the above, I find it still more necessary I should correct
the mis-statement as to the scene of the rescue, for the error seems to
be getting perpetuated. I find in one of the leading Irish-American
newspapers, in a description of the death of Colonel Kelly on February
5, 1909, the scene of the rescue is given as "_midway between the
police office and Salford Jail_." This is evidently taken from the
erroneous statement in the books I have referred to.

After this slight digression, may I resume my narrative.

At the police court a man appointed for the purpose took a cab in
advance of the van. When sufficiently close to them he waved a white
handkerchief as a signal to the men in ambush. Just as the van passed
under the railway arch two men with revolvers barred the way.

"Stop the van!" one cried. But the driver took no heed. A bullet fired
over his head and another into one of the horses effectually stopped the
van. At the sound of the shots the rest of the rescuers came from their
ambush behind the walls that lined the road, and from the shadow of the
abutments of the railway arch.

The police fled panic-stricken at the first volley fired over their
heads by the Fenians, for these wanted to release their chiefs without
bloodshed if possible. One portion of the assailants, carrying out a
pre-arranged plan, formed an extended circle around the van, and kept
the police and mob who had rallied to their assistance at bay, while a
second party set themselves to effecting an entrance to the van. This
was more difficult than had been expected, for had Brett ridden on the
step behind as usual the keys could readily have been taken from him.
The rescuing party were, however, equal to the occasion, and the
military precision with which the work was carried out displayed the
discipline of the men and the able direction of the leaders.

Indeed, the fullest testimony is borne to this by a great English
newspaper, the "Daily News," which, while showing the most intense
hostility to the men and their daring act, is thus compelled to
recognise the courage and discipline of the devoted band of
Fenians:--"The more astonishing, therefore, is it to read of the
appearance of the public enemy in the heart of one of our greatest
cities, organised and armed, overpowering, wounding and murdering the
guardians of public order, and releasing prisoners of state. There is a
distinctness of aim, a tenacity of purpose, a resolution in execution
about the Fenian attack upon the police van which is very impressive.
The blow was sudden and swift, and effected its object. In the presence
of a small but compact body of Fenians, provided with repeating
firearms, the police were powerless, and the release of Kelly and Deasy
was quickly effected."

An unfortunate accident was the killing of Brett, the policeman, by a
shot fired with the intention of breaking the lock of the van. A female
prisoner then handed out the keys on the demand of the Fenians outside,
and the door was quickly opened, and the two leaders brought out, their
safe retreat being guarded by their rescuers.

As Captain Condon had anticipated and provided for, some of the warders
from Belle Vue quickly came upon the scene, as it was but a short
distance across what were then brickfields from the prison to the scene
of action. But, when they saw the determined men who were guarding the
leaders' retreat, they, too, like the police, kept at a safe distance
from the Fenian revolvers, and devoted themselves to picking up any
stragglers who had got separated from the main body of Irishmen.

In this way a number of arrests were made, and, later on, Condon himself
was taken, but the main object had been accomplished, and Kelly and
Deasy got safely away, and, ultimately, as we shall see, out of the
country.

Following the rescue, there was a perfect reign of terror, the police
authorities striking out wildly in all directions to gather into their
net enough Irish victims to satisfy their baffled vengeance. There were
numerous arrests and no lack of witnesses to swear anything to secure
convictions. Every detail of the attack on the van while on the way from
the courthouse to the prison, and of the release of the prisoners was
sworn to with the utmost minuteness, as the witnesses professed to
identify one after another of the men in the dock, some of whom had no
connection or sympathy with the rescue at all.

In Liverpool, men whom I knew were arrested who were at work all that
day at the docks, and yet were sworn to by numerous witnesses as having
assisted in the attack on the van in Hyde Road, Manchester, the most
minute details being given.

I have mentioned a case of the kind in my "Irish in Britain." William
Murphy, of Manchester, a man whom I knew well, was convicted and sent
into penal servitude as having taken part in the rescue. On his
liberation I was surprised to learn from his own lips that, although he
would gladly have borne his part if detailed for the duty, he was not
present at the rescue of the Fenian leaders. With the authorities in
such a panic, it can readily be understood that it behoved any of us in
Lancashire who were in any way regarded as "suspects" to be ready with
very solid testimony as to where we were on the day in question.

In a recent letter I have had from Captain Condon--from whom
communications reach me from all parts of America, for he is constantly
travelling, holding as he does the post of Inspector of Public Buildings
in connection with the Treasury Department of the U.S.A.--he tells me
something about William Murphy that I never heard before. He says: "When
Allen, Larkin, O'Brien, myself, and the other men were sentenced, Digby
Seymour (one of the counsel for the prisoners) went down to a large cell
in the court house basement where all the others were kept together. He
urged them all to plead 'guilty' and throw themselves upon the mercy of
the court, declaring that, if they refused to do this all would be
convicted and executed.

"There was an instant's hesitation among the prisoners, but William
Murphy, who was later sentenced to seven years penal servitude,
addressed his comrades, urging them to stand fast together, imitate our
example, and die like men, rather than live like dogs, for as such they
would be regarded by all true Irishmen if they pleaded 'guilty.'

"To a man the whole twenty-two shouted out--'We will never plead
guilty!'

"And Seymour, baffled and irritated, went away without accomplishing his
purpose."

Of the men convicted for taking part in the rescue, five--Allen, Larkin,
O'Brien, Condon and Maguire--were sentenced to death. Condon was
reprieved, really on account of his American citizenship, and Maguire,
who was a marine, because the authorities discovered in time that the
evidence against him was false. A number of others were sent to penal
servitude for various terms.

The execution of Allen, Larkin and O'Brien, so far from striking terror,
but gave new life to the cause of Irish Freedom, and to-day, over the
world, no names in the long roll of those who have suffered and died for
Ireland are more honoured than those of the "Manchester Martyrs," while
the determination has become all the stronger that, in the words of our
National Anthem--founded on Condon's defiant shout in the dock of "God
Save Ireland!":--

     On the cause must go
     Amidst joy or weal or woe,
  Till we've made our isle a Nation free and grand.

It is not generally known how Colonel Kelly got out of the country after
the rescue. He lay concealed in the house of an Irish professional man
for some weeks, and then, all the railway stations being closely and
constantly watched night and day, he was driven in a conveyance by road
all the way from Manchester to Liverpool.

It was a patriotic foreman ship-joiner, whom I knew well, who actually
got him away to America. My friend Egan had charge of the fitting up of
the berths aboard the steamer in which Colonel Kelly sailed. In emigrant
steamers the usual practice was for temporary compartments to be made
and taken down at the end of the voyage. I had fitted up such berths
myself, and therefore perfectly understood what my friend had done to
secure Colonel Kelly's escape when he described it to me afterwards at
my place in Byrom Street. Egan actually built a small secret
compartment, so constructed as to attract no notice, and when Kelly was
smuggled aboard at the last moment--he might be supposed to be one of
Egan's men--he was put into it and actually boarded up, sufficient
provisions being left with him, until the steamer got clear of British
waters, when he could come out with safety.

Deasy also made his way to America.

In speaking of the after-career of those assembled that night at
McGrady's, I have sufficiently accounted for Michael O'Brien.

Rickard Burke, who also assisted at the same gathering, was a remarkable
personality, and one of the most astute men I ever met. He was a
graduate of Queen's College, Cork, and an accomplished linguist. He was
a skilful engineer, and had served with distinction in the American
Civil War. When I knew him he was about thirty-five years of age, tall
and of fine presence. To him was deputed the work of purchasing arms
for the intended Rising in Ireland.

After many adventures, he fell into the hands of the police, was
convicted, and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. It was with the
idea of effecting his rescue that the Clerkenwell Prison wall was blown
up on December 13th, 1867, this insane plan causing the death and
mutilation of a number of people. Burke himself would probably have been
killed had he happened to be confined in that part of the jail that was
blown up.

While in Chatham prison he was reported as having lost his reason, and
was removed to Woking. The matter was brought before the House of
Commons by Mr. McCarthy Downing, who suggested that Burke's insanity had
been caused by his treatment in prison. He was released on Sunday, July
9th, 1871.

Captain Murphy, another of the company in our Scotland Road rendezvous,
whom I had often met before, was a gentlemanly, genial man of portly
presence, and an exceedingly pleasant companion. After some time he
found his way back to America.

Edward O'Meagher Condon was one of the American officers I most
frequently came in contact with in Liverpool, previous to and after the
Rising. Since his return to America, after his release from penal
servitude in 1878, we have frequently corresponded with each other. From
a report of a Manchester Martyr's Commemoration in a newspaper which
accompanied one of his letters, and conversations I had with him when I
was delighted to have him as my guest during his recent visit to this
country, I find he has just the same sanguine temperament as on that
night at McGrady's, when the chances of another Rising were being
discussed. In the report I refer to he says, "Had the Irish people been
furnished with the necessary arms and munitions of war, which ought and
could have been provided, they would have proved victors in the
contest."

I have no doubt but that, in propounding this view, he had in his mind
the probability there was at one point of England being embroiled in a
quarrel with America. None knew better than he, at the time, of the
enormous number of Irishmen in the American armies, on both sides,
during the Civil War who, with their military training, longed for the
task of sweeping English rule from the soil of Ireland. It will be
remembered that it was Condon who, when sentenced to death, concluded
his speech in the dock with the prayer, "God save Ireland!" the words
which have since become the rallying cry of the whole Irish race, and
have given us a National Anthem.

In his letters to me since his first return to America, I have been
gratified to hear that he always took a warm interest in my
publications. I am pleased, too, to find from the newspaper reports he
has sent me that he is, as ever, an eminently practical man, and
believes in using the means nearest to hand for the advancement of the
Irish Cause.

While giving his experiences in connection with the revolutionary
movement, he declares that no one can blame the Irish people for having
recourse to any means which may enable them to remain on their native
soil. They have, he says, to use whatever means have been left to save
themselves from extermination and Ireland from becoming a desert. He,
therefore, declares his sympathy with the later movements of the Irish
people--the Land League, the National League, and the United Irish
League, while never abandoning the principles of '98, '48 and '67.

I referred to two Liverpool men as being present at the meeting at
McGrady's. One of these, John Ryan, my dear old schoolfellow, one of the
rescuers of James Stephens, has been dead many years--God rest his soul!
He was a noble character, and would have risen to the top in any walk of
life, but though he had a good home--his father was a prosperous
merchant of Liverpool--he gave his whole life to Ireland. I often heard
from him of his adventures, for he always looked me up whenever he came
to Liverpool, and how, sometimes, he and his friends had to fare very
badly indeed.

It was most extraordinary that, while constantly Tunning risks, for he
was a man of great daring, he never once was arrested, though he had
some hair-breadth escapes. On one occasion, about the time of the
Rising, a good, honest, Protestant member of the Brotherhood, Sam
Clampitt, was taken out of the same bedroom in which he was sleeping
with Ryan, who was left, the police little thinking of the bigger fish
they had allowed to escape from their net, the noted Fenian leader,
"Captain O'Doherty." I forget his precise name at this particular time,
but it was a very Saxon one, for he was supposed to be an English
artist sketching in Ireland. Questioned by the police, he was able to
satisfy them of his _bona fides_. He had a friend in Liverpool, an old
schoolfellow like myself, Richard Richards--"Double Dick" we used to
call him--a patriotic Liverpool-born Irishman. He was an exceedingly
able artist, making rapid progress in his profession, and, about this
time, having some very fine pictures, for which he got good prices, on
the walls of the Liverpool Academy Exhibition. Richards supplied all the
trappings for the part that Ryan was playing, and also sent him letters
of a somewhat humorous character, which he sometimes read to me before
sending off. In these he was anticipating all sorts of adventures for
his friend in the then disturbed state of Ireland. As John Ryan had much
artistic taste, and was himself a fair draughtsman, and well up in all
the necessary technicalities, and as Richards' letters, which he always
carried for emergencies like this, were strong evidences in his favour,
he had not much difficulty in convincing the Dublin police he was what
he represented himself to be.

Some of Jack Ryan's reminiscences had their droll sides, for he had a
keen sense of humour. One of his stories was in connection with the
well-known old tradition of the Gaels--both Irish and Scottish--that
wherever the "_Lia Fail_" or "Stone of Destiny" may be must be the seat
of Government. There is some doubt, as is well known, as to where the
real stone now is. At all events, the stone which is under the
Coronation Chair in Westminster Abbey is that which was taken from
Scone by King Edward, and that on which the Scottish monarchs were
crowned, having been originally brought from Ireland, the cradle of the
Gaelic race. The tradition is still, as it happens, borne out by the
fact that Westminster is _now_ the seat of Government.

Now two of John Ryan's Fenian friends, Irish-American officers, stranded
in London--a not unusual circumstance--just when affairs looked very
black indeed, conceived the brilliant idea of _stealing the stone_,
bringing it over to Ireland, and, once for all, settling the Irish
question. This, notwithstanding their oath to "The Irish _Republic_ now
virtually (virtuously some of our friends used to say) established," for
it did not seem to strike them that they were proposing to bring to
Ireland an emblem of royalty.

I never heard if they took any actual steps to accomplish their object.
Perhaps they were impressed by the mechanical difficulties, as I was
myself one day, when standing with David Barrett, an Irish National
League organiser, in Edward the Confessor's Chapel, in front of the
famous "_Lia Fail_." It is a rough-hewn stone, about two feet each way,
and ten inches deep. I was telling my friend the story of the plot to
carry off the "Stone of Destiny," and was making a calculation, based on
the weight of a cubic foot of stone, of what might be its weight.

"We'll soon see," said David, and, in a moment, he had vaulted over the
railing, and taken hold of a corner of the stone.

But, so closely is this national treasure watched, that instantaneously
a couple of attendants appeared, and broke up peremptorily our proposed
committee of enquiry. An archaeological friend of mine suggests that,
one day, when Ireland is making her own laws and able to enter on equal
terms into a contract with England, a reasonable stipulation would be
the restoration of that stone--unless the Scottish Gaels can prove a
stronger claim to it.

From John Ryan I heard of the mode of living of many of the Fenian
organisers and of the Irish-American officers,--very different from the
slanderous statements of their "living in luxury upon the wages of Irish
servant girls in America." John was of a cheery disposition, never
complaining, but always sanguine, and loving to look at the bright side
of things. Yet I could see for myself, each time I saw him, how the life
of hardship he was leading was telling upon his once splendid
constitution, and, I felt sure, shortening his days. John Ryan, I have
often said, is dead for Ireland, for though he did not perish on the
battlefield or on the scaffold, as would have been his glory, I most
certainly believe he would have been alive to-day but for the hardships
suffered in doing his unostentatious work for Ireland.

There is one other friend I mentioned as having been present that night
at Owen McGrady's--the school master. You will ask what became of him?
Almost the last time I spoke to him--not very long before these lines
were written--was in the inner lobby of the British House of Commons,
for he has been for many years a member of Parliament. Now some of my
most cherished friends are or have been members of Parliament, and I
would be sorry to think any of them worse Irishmen than myself on that
account. Their taking the oath of allegiance to the British sovereign
was a matter for their own consciences, but I never could bring myself
to do it. Mr. Parnell would, I know, have been pleased to see me in
Parliament, but he knew that I never would take the oath, and respected
my conscientious objections to swear allegiance to any but my own
country.

With the exception of a few, whose names I forget, I have accounted for
the whole of the company comprising the Council of War at McGrady's
public house. Summed up as follows, nothing in the pages of romance
could be more startling than the after fate of these men:--

     CAPTAIN MICHAEL O'BRIEN.--Hanged at Manchester. R.I.P.

     COLONEL RICKARD BURKE.--Sent to Penal Servitude--Returned to
     America.

     COLONEL THOMAS KELLY, CAPTAIN TIMOTHY DEASY.--Rescued from Prison
     Van in Manchester.

     CAPTAIN EDWARD O'MEAGHER-CONDON.--Sentenced to death for the
     Manchester Rescues, but reprieved and sent to Penal
     Servitude--Returned to America.

     CAPTAIN MURPHY.--Returned to America. Died a few years since.

     THE SCHOOLMASTER.--A Member of Parliament.

     JOHN RYAN.--Dead--God rest his soul.



CHAPTER VIII.

A DIGRESSION--T.D. SULLIVAN--A NATIONAL ANTHEM--THE EMERALD
MINSTRELS--"THE SPIRIT OF THE NATION."


If it were for nothing else, it will be sufficient fame for T.D.
Sullivan for all time that he is the author of "God Save Ireland." He
had no idea himself, as he used to tell me, that the anthem would have
been taken up so instantaneously and enthusiastically as it was.

A National Anthem can never be made to order. It must grow spontaneously
out of some stirring incident of the hour. Never in those days were our
people so deeply moved as by the Manchester Martyrdom. There is no
grander episode in all Irish history. The song of "God Save Ireland,"
embodying the cry raised by Edward O'Meagher Condon, and taken up by his
doomed companions in the dock, so expressed the feelings of all hearts
that it was at once accepted by Irishmen the world over as the National
Anthem.

I sympathise with the ground taken up by our friends of the Gaelic
League that a National Anthem should be in the national tongue. That
objection has to some extent been met by the very fine translation of
"God Save Ireland" into Gaelic by Daniel Lynch. This appeared in one of
my publications, and is the version now frequently sung at Irish
patriotic gatherings.

With regard to the objection that the air--"Tramp, tramp, the boys are
marching"--to which T.D. wrote the song is of American origin, I was
under the impression that Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore, the famous
Irish-American bandmaster, was the composer of it, and that, therefore,
we could claim the air of "God Save Ireland" as being Irish as well as
the words. To place the matter beyond doubt, Gilmore himself being dead,
I wrote to his daughter, Mary Sarsfield Gilmore, a distinguished
poetical contributor to the "Irish World," to ascertain the facts. I got
from her a most interesting reply, in which she said, "I am more than
sorry to disappoint you by my answer, but my father was _not_ the
composer of the air you mention."

I have heard it suggested that McCann's famous war song "O'Donnell
Aboo!" should be adopted as our National Anthem instead of "God Save
Ireland," and I have heard of it being given as a _finale_ at Gaelic
League concerts.

Without doubt it is a fine song, and the air to which it is generally
sung is a noble one. A distinguished Irish poet tells me he is of
opinion that "what will be universally taken up as the Irish National
Anthem has never yet been written." My friend may be right, but let us
see what claim "O'Donnell Aboo!'"--song or air--has upon us for adoption
as our National Anthem.

To do this I must go back in my narrative to the time when I made the
acquaintance of Mr. Michael Joseph McCann, its author. This was a few
years before "God Save Ireland" was written, and over twenty years after
"O'Donnell Aboo!" appeared in the "Nation."

A party of young Irishmen from Liverpool engaged the Rotunda, Dublin,
for a week. They called themselves the "Emerald Minstrels," and gave an
entertainment--"Terence's Fireside; or the Irish Peasant at Home." I was
one of the minstrels. The entertainment consisted of Irish national
songs and harmonized choruses, interspersed with stories such as might
be told around an Irish fireside. There was a sketch at the finish,
winding up with a jig.

At my suggestion, one of the pieces in our programme was "O'Donnell
Aboo!" which first appeared in the "Nation" of January 28th, 1843, under
the title of "The Clan-Connell War Song--A.D. 1597," the air to which it
was to be sung being given as "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu," This was the
name of the boat song commencing "Hail to the Chief," from Sir Walter
Scott's poem of "The Lady of the Lake." This was published in 1810, and
set to music for three voices soon afterwards by Count Joseph Mazzinghi,
a distinguished composer of Italian extraction, born in London.

As "Roderigh Vich Alpine" was the air given by Mr. McCann himself as
that to which his song was to be sung, we, of course, used Mazzinghi's
music in our entertainment.

One night--I think it was our first--at the close of our entertainment
in Dublin, a gentleman came behind to see us. It was Mr. McCann. He was
pleased, he said, we were singing his song, but would like us to use an
air to which it was being sung in Ireland, and which _he had put to it
himself_. He also told us he had made some alterations in the _words_ of
the song, and was good enough to write into my "Spirit of the Nation"
the changes he had made. This copy is the original folio edition, with
music, published in 1845. It was presented to me by the members of St.
Nicholas's Boys' Guild, Liverpool. I have that book still, and value it
all the more as containing the handwriting of the distinguished poet. (I
should say, however, that most of my friends do not consider the
alterations in the song to be improvements.)

The measure and style of "O'Donnell Aboo!" were evidently imitated from
Sir Walter Scott's boat song. Besides this strong resemblance, there is
the fact that Mr. McCann gave as the air to which his song was to be
sung, "Roderigh Vich Alpine," part of the burden of Sir Walter's song.

But not only is there a resemblance in the words and general style, but
in the music. Indeed, it seems to me that most of the fine air of
"O'Donnell Aboo!" as it is now sung is based on Mazzinghi's
music--either that for the first, second, or bass voice, or upon the
concerted part for the three voices at the end of each verse.

Another fact is worthy of mention. Since meeting Mr. McCann I have often
noticed in Irish papers that when the air, as adapted by him, was played
at national gatherings, it was often given by the name of Scott's song
and Mazzinghi's composition. And when Mr. Parnell was in the height of
his popularity and attended demonstrations in Ireland, the air used to
be played as being applicable to the Irish leader, and given in some
papers as "Hail to the Chief," while others described the same air as
"O'Donnell Aboo!"

But if we cannot claim as an original Irish air McCann's song as it is
now sung, the same critical examination which brings out its resemblance
to Mazzinghi's music, also shows that the Italian composer most probably
got his inspiration from the music of the Irish or Scottish Gaels, as
being most suitable for his theme. So that, perhaps, we may take the
same pride in the present air as our island mother might in some of her
children who had been on the _shaughraun_ for a time, but had again come
back to the "old sod."

It may be that even before the era of Irish independence some inspired
poet may write, to some old or new Irish melody, a song which, by its
transcendent merits, may spring at once into the first place. But until
that happens, or till "we've made our isle a nation free and grand" I
think we may very well rest content with "God Save Ireland."

It has been suggested to me that it might form an interesting portion of
these recollections if I were to give some account of how we came to
start the "Emerald Minstrels," and what we did while that company was in
existence. I may say without hesitation that we got our inspiration from
the teaching of Young Ireland and the "Spirit of the Nation." We called
our entertainment "Terence's Fireside; or The Irish Peasant at Home."

We had most of us been boys in the old Copperas Hill school, then in the
Young Men's Guild connected with the church, and some of us members of
the choir. At the Guild meetings on Sunday nights, the chaplain, Father
Nugent, an Irishman, but, like most of ourselves, born out of his own
country, used to delight in teaching us elocution, and encouraging us to
write essays, besides putting other means of culture in our way.

After a time he founded an educational establishment, the Catholic
Institute, where, when he left Copperas Hill, many of us followed him
and joined the evening classes. About this good priest I shall have more
to say in this narrative, and, though he was no politician, I don't
think any man ever did so much to elevate the condition of the Irish
people of his native town, and make them both respectable--in the best
sense--and respected, as Father Nugent.

We started the "Emerald Minstrels" at a time when there was a lull in
Irish politics; our objects being the cultivation of Irish music, poetry
and the drama; Irish literature generally, Irish pastimes and customs;
and, above all, Irish Nationality.

Father Nugent's training from the time we were young boys had been
invaluable. We numbered ten, the most brilliant member of our body, and
the one who did most in organising our entertainments, being John
Francis McArdle. Besides our main objects, already stated, we considered
we were doing good work by elevating the tastes of our people, who had,
through sheer good nature, so long tolerated an objectionable class of
so-called Irish songs, as well as the still more objectionable "Stage
Irishman."

Some items from the programme will give an idea of our entertainment. We
opened with a prologue, originally written by myself, but re-cast and
very much improved by John McArdle. I may say that we two often did a
considerable amount of journalistic work in that way in after years. I
can just remember a little of the prologue. These were the opening
lines:--

  Sons of green Erin, we greet you this night!
  And you, too, her daughters--how welcome the sight!
  We come here before you, a minstrel band,
  To carol the lays of our native land.

There was one particularly daring couplet in it, the contribution of
John McArdle:--

  In your own Irish way give us one hearty cheer.
  Just to show us at once that you welcome us here.

Had mine been the task to speak these lines, I must inevitably have
failed to get the required response, but in the mouth of the regular
reciter they never once missed fire. This was Mr. Barry Aylmer. He
afterwards adopted the stage as a profession, and became recognised as a
very fine actor, chiefly in Irish parts, as might be expected. He also
travelled with a very successful entertainment of his own, and it is but
a short time since he informed me that he spoke our identical "Emerald
Minstrel" prologue in New York and other cities in America, adapting it,
of course, to the circumstances of the occasion. I found that during the
many years which had elapsed since I had previously seen him until I met
him again quite recently he had been a great traveller, not only in this
country and America, but also in South Africa and Australia.

We had a number of harmonized choruses, including several of Moore's
melodies, Banim's "Soggarth Aroon," "Native Music," by Lover; McCann's
"O'Donnell Aboo!" and others. "Killarney," words by Falconer, music by
Balfe, was sung by James McArdle, who had a fine tenor voice. Richard
Campbell was our principal humorous singer. He used chiefly to give
selections from Lover's songs, and one song written for him by John
McArdle, "Pat Delany's Christenin'."

John had an instinctive grasp of stage effect. A hint of the
possibilities of an idea was enough for him. On my return from the
Curragh I told him of how I had heard the militia men and soldiers
singing the "Shan Van Vocht" on the road. He decided that this should be
our _finale_, the climax of the first part of our minstrel
entertainment.

We had a drop scene representing the Lower Lake of Killarney. When it
was raised it disclosed the interior of the living room of a comfortable
Irish homestead, with the large projecting open chimney, the turf fire
on the hearth, and the usual pious and patriotic pictures proper to such
an interior--Terence's Fireside.

Ours was a very self-contained company. Each had some special line as
singer, musician, elocutionist, story teller or dancer.

John Clarke was our chief actor. He excelled in "character parts," and,
when well "made up" as an old man made a capital "Terence" in the first
part of the entertainment, besides giving a fine rendering of Lefanu's
"Shemus O'Brien" between the parts.

In the miscellaneous part there was a rattling Irish jig by Joseph Ward
and Barry Aylmer. The latter, being of somewhat slight figure and a
good-looking youth, made a bouncing Irish colleen. These two made a
point of studying from nature, not only in their dancing, but in their
acting and singing, so that their performances were always true to life,
without an atom of exaggeration. They were always received with great
enthusiasm, particularly by the old people, who seemed transported back,
as by the touch of a magic wand, to the scenes of their youth.

We finished the evening with a sketch, written by John McArdle, called
"Phil Foley's Frolics"--he was fond of alliteration. Noticing that
Joseph Ward had made a special study of the comfortable old Irish
_vanithee_, and had many of her quaint and humorous sayings, he added to
the characters a special part for him--"Mrs. Casey,"--to which he did
full justice. Indeed, so incessant was the laughter that followed each
sally, that he and Barry Aylmer, who was the Phil Foley, sometimes found
it difficult to get the words of the dialogue in between. We had
another sketch, "Pat Houlahan's Ghost," which used to go very well.

The first part of the entertainment, showing old Terence in the chimney
corner and the others singing songs and telling stories, almost
necessitated our sitting around in a semi-circular formation. This gave
us much the appearance of a nigger troupe. To depart from this somewhat,
we occasionally introduced a trifling plot. We made it that one of the
sons of the house entered while the family were engaged in their usual
avocations, having unexpectedly returned from America. Then came the
affectionate family greeting, and the bringing in of the friends and
neighbours, who formed a group sitting around the turf fire, making a
merry night of it.

The services of the "Emerald Minstrels" were in great demand, and were
always cheerfully given for Catholic, National and charitable objects.

While our own people mostly furnished our audiences, our entertainment
was appreciated by the general public. The best proof of this was that
Mr. Calderwood, Secretary of the Concert Hall, Lord Nelson Street, gave
us several engagements for the "Saturday Evening Concerts," in which,
from time to time, Samuel Lover, Henry Russell, The English Glee and
Madrigal Union, and other well-known popular entertainers, appeared. Mr.
Calderwood told us he was well pleased to have in the town a company
like ours, upon whom he could always rely for a successful
entertainment.



CHAPTER IX.

A FENIAN CONFERENCE AT PARIS--THE REVOLVERS FOR THE MANCHESTER
RESCUE--MICHAEL DAVITT SENT TO PENAL SERVITUDE.


I have referred to Michael Breslin in speaking of his brother John.
Michael was not suspected of any complicity with the revolutionary
movement until after the rising on the 5th of March, 1867, when he found
it prudent to get out of the country.

He was, as the saying is, "on his keeping," and stayed with me at my
father's house in Liverpool for a short time, until he found a
favourable opportunity of getting away to America. This was by no means
an easy task, as all the ports were closely watched, and as, like his
brother John, he was a fine handsome man, of splendid physique, and well
known, of course, to the Irish police, it required all his caution
successfully to run the gauntlet; but this eventually he did.

The next I heard from him was that he was coming to Paris to a
conference between the representatives of the two parties of American
Fenians--what were known as the Stephens and Roberts wings. Michael
Breslin was sent as a representative of the Stephens party. There were
prominent members of the I.R.B. in this country, also friends of
Breslin, who were anxious that the two parties should join. I wrote to
him on their behalf, asking him to work towards that end. For greater
safety the letters for Breslin were sent under cover through my cousin,
Father Bernard O'Loughlin, Superior of the Passionist Fathers in Paris.
He, of course, knew nothing of the nature of the communications he was
handing to Breslin, who did his best to bring about the desired unity;
but his action was repudiated by his principals in America.

He came over to England, and had a narrow escape from falling into the
hands of the police. When William Hogan was arrested in Birmingham,
charged with supplying the arms used in the Manchester Rescue, Michael
Breslin was in the house at the time. Questioned by the police, he
described himself as a traveller in the tea trade for Mr. James Lysaght
Finigan, of Liverpool. As he had his proper credentials (samples, etc.,
from James Finigan, who, anticipating an emergency of this kind, had
given them for this express purpose), he was allowed by the police to go
on his way.

James Lysaght Finigan was a good type of the Liverpool-born Irishman,
educated by the Christian Brothers. With other members of his family he
was at the time engaged in the tea trade; but he was of an adventurous
disposition, and afterwards served in the French Foreign Legion in the
Franco-Prussian War. Later still he became a member of the Irish Party
in the House of Commons.

In connection with Breslin's narrow escape, the sequel, as regards our
friend Hogan, is worth relating. Those who ever met William Hogan will
agree with me that a more warm-hearted and enthusiastic Irishman never
lived. He was a good-looking man, of imposing presence--a director of an
Insurance Company, for which he was also the resident manager in
Birmingham. Living in that town, he was of great assistance to the
various agents entrusted with the task of procuring arms for the
revolutionary movement. It speaks much for his sagacity that a man of
his impulsive and generous temperament should so long have escaped
arrest in connection with such hazardous undertakings. Hogan, however,
like Shemus O'Brien, "was taken at last."

Some of the revolvers brought from Birmingham by Daniel Darragh, which
had been used at the Hyde Road action, had been picked up from the
ground afterwards by the police. It was for supplying these that Hogan
was put upon his trial. The maker of the revolvers was brought from
Birmingham, and put in the witness box. He swore that a revolver
produced was one of his own make, which he had sold to the prisoner.
Thus, fortunately for Hogan, the whole case against him turned on this
point--not a very strong one, as it was obviously possible for the Crown
witness to be mistaken.

Hogan's counsel produced a similar revolver, and asked the witness if he
could identify it as his manufacture? The witness unhesitatingly did so.
The counsel, when his turn came, called another witness--a
decent-looking man of the artizan class. The barrister handed him the
revolver.

"Do you recognise it?" he asked.

"I do--I made it myself."

The Court was astonished. The prosecuting counsel asked:--

"How do you know it is yours?"

"By certain marks on it," the man replied, and these he proceeded to
describe. As the description was found to be correct, and as the other
witness, who had sworn that _he_ had made the weapon, had not described
any such marks, the case against Hogan broke down, and he was acquitted.

A few days afterwards he called on me, and explained how the thing had
happened. When he was arrested, his friends in Birmingham, having still
on hand some of the revolvers he had purchased, had an exact copy of one
of them made by a gunsmith whom they could trust, with instructions to
put his own private marks upon it, which he could afterwards identify.
It was this weapon that had deceived the witness for the prosecution to
such an extent that he wrongly swore to it as being his own manufacture.

Daniel Darragh, who was also put upon his trial for supplying the
weapons for the Manchester Rescue, was not so fortunate as his friend
Hogan, for he was convicted. He was sent into penal servitude on April
15th, 1869, but, being in delicate health, did not long survive, for he
died in Portland Prison on June 28th of the following year. William
Hogan, as the fulfilment of a sacred duty, brought the body of his
friend home to Ireland, to be buried among his own kith and kin, in the
Catholic cemetery of Ballycastle, Co. Antrim; and Edward O'Meagher
Condon, when recently visiting this country, considered it a no less
sacred duty to visit the grave.

It will be seen that William Hogan, with all his acuteness, had a very
narrow escape from falling into the hands of the law and suffering its
penalties. Still, it has been my experience, that men like him, who have
stood their ground, following their usual legitimate occupations, were
always less liable to be molested than what might be termed birds of
passage, such as Rickard Burke, Arthur Forrester, or Michael Davitt.

Such, I consider, was the case of my friend, John Barry, when he was a
resident in Newcastle-on-Tyne, in connection with an incident which he
related to me a short time since. Some arms were addressed to him "to be
called for," under the name of "Kershaw," a well-known north-country
name, not at all likely to be borne by an Irishman. By some means the
police got wind of the nature of the consignment, and the arms were held
at the station, waiting for Mr. Kershaw to claim them. But it was a case
of plot and counterplot; and when John was actually on the way to the
railway station, he was warned in time by a railway employé, an Irish
Protestant member of the I.R.B., and did not finish his journey. As
"Kershaw" did not turn up, the case of arms was sent off to London to be
produced at a trial then impending.

_John Barry_ was at that time a commercial traveller, and, strangely
enough, on one of his trips, he found himself in the same railway
carriage with two detectives who were in charge of the arms on their way
to the metropolis. John, as everybody acquainted with him knows, "has
the music on the tip of his tongue;" the racy accent acquired in his
childhood in his native Wexford. But he can put it off when the occasion
requires it; and the two police officers were quite charmed with the
social qualities of the genial commercial "gent" who was their
fellow-traveller, never suspecting him to be an Irishman. They chatted
together in the most agreeable manner, making no secret of their mission
to London, and letting drop a few facts which proved useful to the
counsel for the defence in the subsequent trial. Reaching London, they
asked the commercial "gent" to spend a social evening with them and some
of the witnesses in the case, which had some connection with the arms
intended for "Mr. Kershaw." He could not do so, he said, as he had a
previous engagement--which happened to be with Arthur Forrester and some
witnesses on the other side. But, he continued, he would be glad to see
them on the following day. Where could he see them? At Scotland Yard;
and at Scotland Yard, accordingly, he met them, where they showed him,
as an evidence of the desperate characters they had to deal with--his
own case of arms!

They told him of the pleasant evening he had missed, the only drawback
being, they said, that one of the witnesses, named Corydon, got drunk
and was very troublesome.

This reminds me of another case, in connection with which I, at the
time, fully expected to be arrested. The reader can form his own
conclusion, but my impression was, and is, that I owed my safety to a
gentleman I shall now introduce. Detective Superintendent Laurence
Kehoe, of Liverpool, was a very decent man in his way. He was by no
means of the type of John Boyle O'Reilly or the Breslins, who have shown
that in the British army and in the police force there have been men,
mostly compelled by adverse circumstances, who have for a time worn the
blue, or green, or scarlet coat of Britain without changing the Irish
heart beneath.

No; Larry (as he was generally called) was nothing of the kind. Still, I
believe he faithfully did his duty according to his lights, in the
service in which he was engaged. He was a conscientious Catholic, and a
son of his is a most respected priest in the diocese of Liverpool. He
was a kind-hearted, charitable man, always ready to do a good turn,
particularly for a fellow-countryman. If an Irish policeman called his
attention to some poor waif of an Irish child who had lost its parents,
or was in evil surroundings--having parents worse than none, or in
danger of losing its faith--Laurence Kehoe would take the matter in
hand. He would not always go through the formality of bringing the case
of such child under the notice of the managers of one or other of the
Catholic orphanages. When I was Secretary of Father Nugent's Boys'
Refuge, he brought one of these waifs to the Brother Director, and
claimed admittance for him. The place was full, the Brother said--it
could not be done. Without another word Kehoe left the child on the
doorstep, and simply saying, "Good-night," left Brother Tertullian
sorely perplexed, but with no alternative but to take the child in.

Now, Laurence Kehoe must have known that I was a notorious suspect--for
it was his duty to know--but we were good friends, never, however,
talking politics by any possible chance. I cannot, of course, state for
certain how it was, but the reader, from what I am going to describe,
may possibly come to the conclusion that Detective Superintendent Kehoe
may have shut both eyes and ears in my particular case.

To Rickard Burke was entrusted the critical and dangerous task of buying
and distributing arms for the revolutionary movement. _Exit_ Rickard
Burke, in the usual way, through the prison gate. _Enter_ Arthur
Forrester, who, in due course, found his way also--though but for a
short time--within prison walls. Then, following in quick succession,
came Michael Davitt, engaged in the same task as Burke and Forrester.

Forrester was a young man of great eloquence, and, like his mother and
sister, a poet. Mrs. Ellen Forrester's "Widow's Message to her Son" is,
I think, one of the finest and most heart-stirring poems we possess. I
have often listened with pleasure to Arthur Forrester, when he used to
come to address the "boys" in Liverpool. On one of those occasions
Michael Davitt was with him, a modest, unassuming young man, with but
little to say, although he was to make afterwards a more important
figure in the world than his friend. Forrester was a young fellow full
of pluck, and made a desperate resistance when, a boy, he was first
arrested in Dublin.

One night, just before Christmas, 1869, he left fifty revolvers with me.
Early next morning I read in a daily paper that he had been arrested the
previous night in a Temperance Hotel where he had been staying. There
were no arms found upon him or among his belongings. He had left them
with me;--indeed, as I read the account of his arrest, they were still
in my possession. You may depend upon it I quickly got them into safer
hands than my own. Some compromising documents were found in Forrester's
possession, including a certain letter with which Michael Davitt's name
was connected. This same letter was brought forward in evidence some
years afterwards, in the famous "_Times_ Forgeries Commission," with a
view to showing that the Irish leaders had incited to murder. As I
expected, I was not long without a visit from Laurence Kehoe's
lieutenants. Horn and Cousens, detective officers, called upon me to
make enquiries about the revolvers which, they said, "Arthur had left
with me." I need scarcely say they gained nothing by their visitation. I
fully expected that the matter would not end here, and that I was likely
to find myself in the dock along with Forrester.

The same evening I had a visit from my sister-in-law, Miss Naughton.
She had a friend, a Miss Cameron, who was sister to the wife of Lawrence
Kehoe. Miss Cameron lived in the house of the Detective Superintendent,
along with her sister, Mrs. Kehoe. In the middle of the previous
night--Miss Cameron told Miss Naughton--her room being on the same
landing as Kehoe's--she heard him called, and a man's voice saying:--

"We've taken Forrester. Shall we go to Denvir?" There was a pause; then
Kehoe said, "No," adding some words to the effect that he did not think
that I was implicated.

I dare say, after the manner of some pious people I know, he had
persuaded himself that such was the case. After he had worked out his
full term in Purgatory (for he is dead many years, God rest his soul!),
I don't think St. Peter can have kept the Heavenly gates closed on Larry
Kehoe for whatever he said about me that night. Nay, let us hope that it
was even put down to his credit.

Forrester's explanation, when he was arrested, as to his employment was
that he was a hawker. He had his licence, all quite regular, to show.
Under this he could sell his revolvers. There was nothing illegal in
that, unless a connection were established with the revolutionary
movement.

This, it appeared, they were not able to make out; but he was kept in
custody, evidently with a view to gain time to establish such a
connection. In fact, his case was the same as Davitt's, who took up the
work of procuring and distributing arms, after Forrester had become too
well known to the police in connection with it. Davitt, too, had a
hawker's licence; and, at first, there was really no evidence to connect
him with the Fenian movement. The farce was gone through of bringing
Corydon to identify him--not a very difficult task in the case of a
one-armed man--though this was the first time Corydon had ever seen
Davitt.

The evident explanation of Forrester being kept in custody, and
remanded, as he was, from day to day, without being charged with any
offence, was that a similar connection might be established, to prove
which a little perjury would not stand in the way.

Michael Davitt, who had not yet come under the notice of the police,
came to me, along with Arthur Forrester's mother, on hearing of the
arrest. They had tea with us, and, I need scarcely say, were warmly
welcomed in our little family circle, those in the house who were but
small children then being in after years proud to remember that they had
had such noble characters under their roof.

Mrs. Ellen Forrester was a homely, sweet-looking, little North of
Ireland woman. She was a native of the County Monaghan, and, at this
time, about forty years of age. Her maiden name was Magennis. Her father
was a schoolmaster, which would, no doubt, account for her literary
tastes. Songs and poems of hers appeared in the "Nation" and "Dundalk
Democrat." She was quite young when she came to England, and settled
first in Liverpool, and then in Manchester. She married Michael
Forrester, a stonemason, and had five children. It was quite evident
there was a poetic strain in the Magennis blood, for two of her
daughters, and her son Arthur, inherited the gift, which her brother
Bernard also possessed. She produced "Simple Strains" and (in
conjunction with her son Arthur) "Songs of the Rising Nation," and other
poems. She was a frequent contributor to the English press, her work
being much appreciated.

Arthur Forrester, whose release we were trying to effect, was, at this
time, only nineteen years old, though he looked much older. Besides the
poetic strain which he inherited from his mother, he must also have had
that fiery and unconquerable spirit which displayed itself in the
determined resistance he made against the police who came to arrest him
in 1867, in Dublin, where he had found his way for the projected rising.
He was a young Revolutionist truly--being then only seventeen. He was
not long kept in prison that time, there being no evidence to connect
him with Fenianism, nor, indeed, was there now, when he had fallen into
the hands of the police in Liverpool, though they were doing their best
to manufacture some.

His warlike proclivities seem to have been ever uppermost, as will be
seen later, where we find him joining the French "Foreign Legion" during
the Franco-Prussian War. Besides the "Songs of the Rising Nation" in
connection with his mother, he produced "An Irish Crazy Quilt," prose
and verse, and was a frequent contributor to the "Irish People" and
other papers over the signature of "Angus" and "William Tell."

It is too bad of me to be keeping poor Arthur in durance vile while I
am going into these particulars; but I want to show what kind of people
these Forresters were, and what the rebelly Ulster Magennis strain in
their blood let them into.

Together, Davitt and I called upon several Liverpool Irishmen to get
bail for Forrester. There was no difficulty--we could easily get the
necessary security; but, name after name, good, substantial bail, was
refused by the police on one pretence or another.

Ultimately, on Christmas Eve, when the prisoner was again brought before
the stipendiary magistrate, Mr. Raffles, a very just and high-minded
man, Dr. Commins, barrister, acting for Forrester, claimed that no
charge, but a mere matter of suspicion, being forthcoming against him,
the bail offered should be accepted. The magistrate agreed to accept two
sureties of £100 each, "to keep the peace for one year," and Arthur
Forrester was released.

It is interesting to know that while one of the bails was William
Russell, a patriotic Irishman, having an extensive business, the other
was Arthur Doran, a wholesale newsagent. He was a decent Irishman, of
Liverpool birth, who took no part in politics. He had been induced to go
bail by one of the greatest scoundrels Ireland ever produced--Richard
Pigott, Doran being an agent for Pigott's papers, the "Irishman" and
"Flag of Ireland." Let this one good act, at all events, be put down to
Pigott's credit.

To return to Forrester. After such a close shave as he had in
Liverpool, with the eyes of the police now upon him, his occupation was
gone, and Michael Davitt took up the work. I am afraid that Davitt's
visit to Liverpool on this occasion brought him under the notice of the
police, and may probably have led to his arrest a few months afterwards.

This took place on May 14th, 1870, at Paddington Station, London, with
him being arrested also John Wilson, a Birmingham gunsmith. Davitt had
£150 in his possession, and Wilson had fifty revolvers, it being
suggested that the gunsmith was about to deliver the weapons in exchange
for the money. So far--Davitt having a hawker's licence, as in the case
of Forrester--this would have been perfectly legitimate. What was wanted
by the authorities was evidence to show a connection with the Fenian
conspiracy. They really had no such evidence, but as Davitt was a marked
man, and as it was necessary to have him removed, Corydon was brought to
identify him, and, of course, had no difficulty, when a number of men
were brought into the corridor, in picking out the one-armed man from
among them.

At the trial Corydon swore, among other things, that Davitt took part in
the Chester raid. Now, Michael himself told me afterwards that Corydon
had never seen him before he "identified" him in prison; and that though
he really was at Chester, Corydon could not have known this. Michael
Davitt and John Wilson were convicted of treason-felony. As showing the
man's noble character, it should not be forgotten that the Irishman made
an earnest appeal for the Englishman, declaring that Wilson knew
nothing of the object for which the weapons were wanted, and asking that
whatever sentence was to be passed on the gunsmith might be added to his
own. This was quite worthy of Davitt's chivalrous and unselfish nature,
and I can well imagine his tall and commanding figure in the dock, with
his strongly marked features and dark, bright eyes--while utterly
defiant of what the law might do to himself--making this appeal for the
man who stood beside him. Davitt was, on July 11th, 1870, sentenced to
fifteen years, and Wilson to seven years penal servitude.

Michael Davitt will appear in these pages as the founder of another
organisation, the results of which seem likely to make the Irish people
more the real possessors of their own soil than they have ever been
since the Norman invasion.

About this time I had started a printing and publishing business in
Liverpool, and commenced to realise what I had long projected as a
useful work for Ireland. This was the issue of my "Irish Library,"
consisting chiefly of penny books of biographies, stories, songs, and
stirring episodes of Irish history.

In their production and afterwards, when I continued the issue of these
booklets in London, I had valuable assistance from various friends,
including Rev. Father Ambrose, Rev. Father O'Laverty, Michael Davitt,
Daniel Crilly, T.D. Sullivan, Timothy McSweeney, Hugh Heinrick, William
J. Ryan, Francis Fahy, William P. Ryan, Alfred Perceval Graves, Michael
O'Mahony, John J. Sheehan, Thomas Boyd, Thomas Flannery, John Hand,
James Lysaght Finigan, and other well-known writers on Irish subjects.
Some of the penny books were from my own pen, in addition to which I
wrote "The Brandons," a story of Irish life in England, and other books,
of which my most ambitious work was "The Irish in Britain."



CHAPTER X.

RESCUE OF THE MILITARY FENIANS.


Before concluding the section of my Recollections connected with
Fenianism, I must re-introduce John Breslin, the rescuer of James
Stephens.

Though the episode I am about to describe took place some six years
after the commencement of the constitutional Home Rule agitation, I
think it well, as it was connected with Fenianism, for the sake of
compactness, to introduce it here.

My excuse for introducing it as part of _my_ recollections will be seen
further on.

It will be remembered that John Breslin, when a warder in Richmond
Prison, was the man who actually opened the door of James Stephens's
cell, and, with the aid of Byrne, another warder, helped the Head Centre
over the prison wall, and left him in charge of John Ryan and other
friends outside.

It was no wonder, then, that, when a similar perilous and even more
arduous undertaking was projected, John Breslin should be the man chosen
as the chief instrument to carry it out.

This was the rescue of six military Fenians from Freemantle, in Western
Australia, which was ultimately effected on Easter Monday, 17th April,
1876.

The enterprise was projected in America, among its most active
promoters being John Devoy. Associated with him were John Boyle O'Reilly
(himself an escaped Fenian convict) and Captain Hathaway, City Marshal
of New Bedford. An American barque, of 202 tons, the _Catalpa_, was
bought, and converted into a whaler, but was intended to be used in
carrying off the convicts. She was ready for sea in March, 1875. It was
more than a year before she took the prisoners away from Australia, and
a further four months before she reached New York with the rescued men.
The ship was taken out by Captain S. Anthony, an American, to whom was
confided the object of the mission. The only Irishman on board among the
crew was Denis Duggan, the carpenter, a sterling Nationalist, to whom
also was made known the mission on which they were bound.

As John Breslin was now in America, obviously he was the man of all
others to entrust with the command of the daring project of carrying off
the prisoners. Happily he was available for the work, and entered into
it heartily. He sent me the narrative of the rescue himself--through his
brother Michael--on his return to America, after having successfully
accomplished his mission.

He and Captain Desmond sailed from San Francisco on the 13th of
September, 1875, and reached Freemantle on 16th of November. They were
not long in opening up communications with the prisoners, so as to be in
readiness for the arrival of the _Catalpa_. In the meantime two more men
joined the expedition--John King, who brought a supply of money from
New Zealand, which was most useful, and Thomas Brennan, who arrived at
the last moment, just as the _Catalpa_ appeared off the coast, and had
got into communication with Breslin.

Everything being arranged, it was determined to carry off the following
prisoners--Martin Harrington, Thomas Darragh, James Wilson, Martin
Joseph Hogan, Robert Cranston, and Thomas Henry Hassett. They were at
work outside the prison walls, or at other employment equally
accessible, when they were taken away in two traps from Freemantle,
about nine o'clock in the morning of the 17th of April, 1876. By the
time the news of their flight, and of the direction they had taken, was
known in the prison, the party had reached Rockingham, and were on the
sea in the whale-boat which was to take them to the _Catalpa_.

The gunboat _Conflict_, which was usually stationed at King George's
Sound, was telegraphed for by the authorities, but it was found that the
wires had been cut the previous night, and by the time they were
repaired the vessel had gone on a cruise.

After some hours' delay, the governor engaged the passenger steamer
_Georgette_ to go in pursuit. It was nine o'clock that evening before
she left Freemantle. The police boat was cruising about also, looking
for the whaler and her boat. The _Georgette_ came up with the _Catalpa_
about 8 o'clock on the following (Tuesday) morning. A demand to go on
board and search the barque was refused. As it was found there was a
short supply aboard the _Georgette_, she returned to Freemantle to coal,
leaving the police boat to watch the _Catalpa_, and to look out for the
whale boat containing the rescued men, which had not yet appeared,
although, as it turned out, not far off at the time. The boat had been
vainly searching for the _Catalpa_ all night, and had only now
discovered her. The party in the boat had actually seen the _Georgette_
overhauling the _Catalpa_, and had yet themselves remained undiscovered.
In order to keep clear of falling into the hands of the _Georgette_ they
stood off from the ship, and it was about half-past two o'clock in the
afternoon before the boat containing the rescued men approached the
_Catalpa_ again. They then saw the police boat making for the ship at
about the same distance from her on the land side as the whale boat was
to the seaward. The men scrambled aboard just as the police boat was
coming up on the other side.

Breslin says:--"As soon as my feet struck the deck over the quarter
rail, Mr. Smith, the first mate, called out to me, 'What shall I do now,
Mr. Collins (this was the name Breslin went by); what shall I do?' I
replied, 'Hoist the flag, and stand out to sea;' and never was a
manoeuvre executed in a more prompt and seamanlike manner."

The police boat did not attempt to board the vessel, but made its way
back to Freemantle to report. There the _Georgette_ had been fully
coaled and provisioned, and had taken aboard, in addition to the
pensioners and police, a twelve-pounder field-piece. At 11 o'clock the
same night (Tuesday) she steamed out once more. At daylight on the
following morning she came up with the _Catalpa_ again, and fired a
round shot across her bows. After some parleying, Captain Anthony being
prompted by Breslin, the _Georgette_ hailed that if the _Catalpa_ did
not heave to, the masts would be blown out of her.

"Tell them," said Breslin to the captain, "that's the American flag; you
are on the high seas; and if he fires on the ship, he fires on the
American flag."

Preparations were made to give the armed party on the _Georgette_ a warm
reception should they attempt to board the whaler. But the pursuers had
a wholesome fear of coming into conflict with a vessel sailing under the
Stars and Stripes, and, after some further parleying, left the _Catalpa_
to pursue her homeward voyage unmolested.

I was fortunate enough to get the account of _both_ expeditions--for
there were two--for the rescue of the military Fenians in each case
direct from the man having the command.

I have already given John Breslin's account, which, it will, perhaps, be
remembered I published at the time as a number of my penny "Irish
Library."

I had the pleasure of hearing John Walsh, who had charge of the
expedition from this country, relating the part he and his friend bore
in assisting the Irish-American rescuers. He told the story at a very
select gathering in Liverpool, at which I was present. On the 13th of
January, he said, two men, of whom he was one, left this country with
money and clothing to carry out the rescue. They landed on the 28th of
February at King George's Sound, whence a sailing vessel took them to
Freemantle.

They soon got into communication with the two men who had come from
America, and had been on the spot since November, 1875--John Breslin and
J. Desmond, the latter of whom worked as a coach-builder at Perth. Walsh
and his friend offered their co-operation to the men from America in any
capacity, and arrangements were made accordingly. They lent the
Americans arms, and they cut the telegraph wires from Perth to King
George's Sound, where a man-of-war was stationed.

It will be seen from Breslin's account that this was why the man-of-war
was not available to deal with the _Catalpa_; for when the telegraphic
communication was restored, it was found that the gunboat _Conflict_ had
left on a cruise.

Walsh and his friend were on the ground on the morning when the
prisoners started to escape, and if a fight took place, they were to
fight and fly with their friends. If there was no fight, they were to
remain behind. If the _Catalpa_ failed, they were to fly to the bush,
with the exception of some who were to remain behind to succour those in
the bush.

John Walsh described how, when the rescued men were being driven in two
traps from Freemantle to Rockingham, to be taken on the whale-boat to
the _Catalpa_, which was lying off the coast awaiting them, he and his
friend started with them, and remained behind to stop pursuit. He also
described the attempt to recapture the escaped men, as told in Breslin's
narrative, and how the attempt failed.

My own connection with this incident was that the funds, or some part
of them, for John Walsh's expedition passed through my hands between
their collection and their distribution.

On Monday, August 21st, 1876, while we were holding the Annual
Convention of the Home Rule Confederation of Great Britain, in the
Rotunda, Dublin, the joyful news reached us that the _Catalpa_, having
on board the rescued men and their rescuers, had safely reached New
York. The news was received with the wildest enthusiasm. The terrible
strain of the last four months had passed, and we were relieved from the
constant dread that, after the gallant rescue, the men might again fall
into the hands of the enemy.

A few more words about the Breslins before finishing this chapter.
Michael went back to America after his escape from arrest in Birmingham.
I have corresponded with him from time to time ever since. A letter of
mine to Michael, written after he finally went to America, came back to
me in a very curious manner. A gentleman came into my place of business
in Liverpool one day, and presented to me, as an introduction, a letter
I had sent to my friend about a month previously. I was somewhat
suspicious about this. I told him there was nothing to show that my
letter had ever been in Breslin's hands at all. The gentleman agreed
that I was right, and said he would merely ask to be allowed to leave
his luggage for a short time.

I got a careful watch kept on his movements in Liverpool, but nothing
more suspicious was reported than that he had been seen to enter a
Catholic church, where he had gone to Confession.

My friend William Hogan was in my place when my messenger returned, and
when he heard this, exclaimed, in his usual impetuous style--"He's a
spy!"

The deduction might not seem obvious, but, doubtless Hogan had in his
mind one or two of the worst cases of the anti-Fenian informers, who
made a parade of great piety a cloak for their treachery.

The gentleman returned and reclaimed his luggage, and I heard nothing
further of him for about a month afterwards, when I had a letter from
Michael Breslin, saying that his friend, whom I had treated with such
suspicion and such scant hospitality, was Mr. John B. Holland, the
famous submarine inventor. He was, I believe, in this country in
connection with his invention.

It may be asked, after all, what did Fenianism do for Ireland? To those
who ask the question I would answer that no honest effort for liberty
has ever been made in vain. If Fenianism did nothing else, it kept alive
the tradition and the spirit of freedom among Irishmen, and handed them
on to the next generation. In so far as the men who took part in it were
unselfish, were whole-souled lovers of their country, and prepared to
risk life and liberty for their country's sake--and I think with pride
of the thousands of such men I knew or knew of--then the whole Irish
race was ennobled and lifted up from the mire of serfdom.

But it did more than merely make martyrs. Its strength, its spontaneity,
and the devotion of its adherents were such that they undoubtedly
awakened not merely some alarm, but also some sense of justice in
England.

Gladstone admitted that what first prompted him to set in motion the
movement for the disestablishment of the Irish Church was "the intensity
of Fenianism." But the result did not end there. For many an Englishman
was moved to the belief that surely there must be something wrong with a
system which provoked such a movement, something not wholly bad about a
cause for which men went with calm, proud confidence to the felon's cell
or the scaffold. And, even to-day, England--with all her secret service
facilities--does not know one-half of the danger from which she escaped;
nor can I repeat much of what I myself could say of Fenianism in
England.

There are men who have made large fortunes in business; there are
eminent men in many of the professions, whose former connection with
Fenianism is unsuspected, who, at the time, if the call had been made
upon them, would cheerfully have thrown aside their careers and taken
their places in the ranks.

Once again "a soul came into Ireland," and men were capable then of high
enterprises which to-day seem to belong to another age.

Even for myself, I have many times marvelled how light-heartedly in
those days I took the risks of conspiracy--how little it troubled me
that there were dozens of men who bore my liberty, and perhaps my life,
in their hands. But I never doubted them--and I was right!



CHAPTER XI.

THE HOME RULE MOVEMENT.


It now becomes my business to record the formation and progress of
another organisation--one which appealed to me precisely on the same
grounds as Fenianism, namely, first, that it was based on justice; and,
secondly, that it was practicable.

This was the constitutional movement for what was known as Home Rule. My
principles have never altered, and I can see nothing inconsistent in my
adapting myself to changed conditions. I and those who thought like me
were driven into Fenianism because it seemed likely to achieve success,
and what was call "constitutional agitation" seemed hopeless. Now the
position was reversed. On the one hand Fenianism had collapsed, and on
the other there seemed a prospect, partly owing to the change wrought by
Fenianism, that a constitutional movement might succeed.

This constitutional movement had been going on for some six years
previous to the rescue of the military Fenians, having been inaugurated
at a meeting in the Bilton Hotel, Dublin, on the 19th May, 1870, five
days after the arrest of Michael Davitt, and his disappearance for a
season from the stage of Irish history.

In the pages which are to follow I shall have occasion to introduce
some of those who took part in that first Home Rule gathering in Dublin.
It was a hopeful beginning, as there were assembled men who were of
various creeds and politics--Catholics, Protestants, Fenian
sympathisers, Repealers, Liberals, and Tories--but all of whom had in
view the happiness and prosperity of their common country. There they
established the "Home Government Association of Ireland," the first
resolution passed being:--

     This Association is formed for the purpose of attaining for Ireland
     the right of self-government by means of a National Parliament.

The fact was that the "intensity of Fenianism" had forced thinking men
of every shade of opinion to realise that government of Ireland by
outsiders was an abject failure. Even Englishmen themselves began to
realise that they were engaged in an impossible task, or, at all events,
one in which they were quite at sea. A humorous story is attributed to
Mr. T.W. Russell on this point. It is that a certain Englishman, who was
appointed Chief Secretary for Ireland, went to an English official of
experience in Dublin, and said--

"You know what I mean to do first of all, is to get at the facts--the
facts--then I shall be on sure ground."

"My dear sir," said the official wearily, "there are no facts in
Ireland."

The conclusion was not a surprising one for a man who had for years
been in touch with the "official sources" of information.

While all honour is due to the men who initiated the new movement, the
names of those who carried on the constitutional struggle during the
years that preceded this date should not be forgotten. Of all the men I
ever came into contact with in the course of my experience of
constitutional agitation, I think the Sullivans--especially T.D. and
A.M.--deserve the most credit, for they kept the flag flying in the
columns of the "Nation" and in other ways during all the gloomy years
that followed after Charles Gavan Duffy left the country in despair. I
am always proud to have reckoned these two men among my dearest and most
trusted friends.

Another great admirer of the Sullivans was Alfred Crilly, brother to
Daniel Crilly, and father of Frederick Lucas Crilly, the present
respected and able General Secretary of the United Irish League of Great
Britain. Alfred was one of the most brilliant Irishmen we ever had in
Liverpool, and no man did better service for the cause in that city
during his lifetime. It was always a pleasure to me to work in harness
with him, as I did on many public occasions; for whatever was the
national organisation going on in Ireland for the time being we
two--Alfred Crilly and myself--always did our best to have its
counterpart in Liverpool. Indeed it became the case that for many years
our people there invariably looked to us to take the initiative in every
national movement. Whenever A.M. Sullivan came over to our
demonstrations it did not need our assurance to convince him that every
pulsation of the national heart in Ireland was as warmly and as strongly
felt on this side of the Channel as though we still formed part of our
mother island. Indeed, the evidence of his own eyes, the enthusiasm he
saw when he came amongst us, caused him to declare at a vast gathering
in the Amphitheatre that he felt as if he were not out of Ireland at
all, but on a piece cut from the "old sod" itself.

I felt proud when two young men of my training, John McArdle, who had
been with me on the "Catholic Times"; and afterwards Daniel Crilly, on
the "United Irishman," were appointed to the literary staff of the
"Nation," for which they were well fitted, seeing that, with their
brilliant gifts, they had, from their earliest days, been imbued with
the doctrines of that newspaper.

T.D., like his brother, often came to Liverpool, and used to be equally
delighted with the enthusiastic receptions he got from his
fellow-countrymen. On one occasion he said to me he was at a loss how to
show his appreciation. I told him how to do this. "Write us a song," I
said. He did so; and with that admirable tact which is so characteristic
of him he chose for his theme--"Erin's Sons in England," a song which,
written to the air of "The Shamrock," has, for many years, been sung at
our Irish festivals in Great Britain. As a personal favour to myself he
wrote it for one of the penny books of my "Irish Library".

I need make no apology for introducing T.D. Sullivan's song here. It
will be seen that he sings our praise with no uncertain note; and, in
return, I may say on their behalf that he had no warmer admirers than
among the Irish of England.

    ERIN'S SONS IN ENGLAND.

   _Air--"Oh, the Shamrock_."

  On every shore, the wide world o'er,
    The newest and the oldest,
  The sons are found of Erin's ground
    Among the best and boldest.
  But soul and will are turning still
    To Ireland o'er the ocean,
  And well I know where aye they glow
    With most intense devotion.

  CHORUS:--Over here in England,
           Up and down through England,
             Fond and true and fearless too,
           Are Erin's sons in England.

  Where toil is hard, in mill and yard,
    Their hands are strong to bear it;
  Where genius bright would wing its flight,
    The mind is theirs to dare it;
  But high or low, in joy or woe,
    With any fate before them,
  The sweetest bliss they know, is this--
    To aid the land that bore them.

  CHORUS:--Over here in England, &c.

  By many a sign from Thames to Tyne,
    From Holyhead to Dover,
  The eye may trace the deathless race
    Our gallant land sent over.
  Midst beech and oak, midst flame and smoke.
    Up springs the cross-tipped steeple
  That, far and wide, tells where abide
    The faithful Irish people.

  CHORUS:--Over here in England, &c.

  And this I say--on any day
   That help of theirs is needed,
  Dear Ireland's call will never fall
   On their true hearts unheeded
  They'll plainly show to friend and foe.
   If e'er the need arises
  Her arm is long, and stout and strong,
   To work some strange surprises!

  CHORUS:--Over here in England, &c.

It will be remembered that T.D. never allowed himself to be bound by
conventionalities. There was always a refreshing thoroughness and
heartiness in what he did. For instance, when he was Lord Mayor of
Dublin, he on one occasion "opened" a public bath by stripping and
swimming round it--the Town Clerk and other officials following his
example.

I have mentioned the good work done in Liverpool by Father Nugent, and
that I had the pleasure of co-operating with him in some of his
undertakings.

At the time of the Home Rule movement connected with the name of Isaac
Butt, and for some years previously, I had been brought into still
closer contact with him, first, as secretary of his refuge for destitute
and homeless boys, and then as manager and acting editor of the
"Northern Press and Catholic Times," after that paper had come into his
hands. I also assisted him in the temperance movement which he started
in Liverpool.

When Father Nugent asked me to take charge of the "Catholic Times," I
entered upon the work literally single-handed, like some of the editors
we read of a generation or so ago in the Western States of America;
for, when he left me for a nine months' tour in the States, I
constituted in my own person the whole staff. We afterwards had some
able men on the paper. Among these was John McArdle, who left us, as I
have said, to join the "Nation." He became later a well-known dramatic
author, his chief works being burlesques and pantomimes. We also had
James Lysaght Finigan, of whom I speak elsewhere.

While Father Nugent was in America, we used to get great help from a
fine old Jesuit priest and good Irish Nationalist, Father James
McSwiney, then of St. Francis Xavier's, Liverpool. He was never happier
than when smoking his short pipe by the fire in our inner office. With
his help we created a much admired feature in the "Catholic Times" in
our "Answers to Correspondents." With the view of drawing on real
enquiries, he used to concoct and then answer questions on points of
doctrine, etc. Some people were astonished at the profound
knowledge--and others at what they considered "the impudence"--displayed
by Jack McArdle and John Denvir in answering any theological posers that
might be put to us, never dreaming we had behind us one of the ablest
theologians of the Jesuit order.

When Father Nugent took the paper in hands, the readers had such
confidence in it that, from being merely a local paper, we were able
before long to make it a leading Catholic organ for the whole country.

The reverend father was chaplain of the Liverpool Borough jail. He was
respected by all classes, Protestant as well as Catholic, not only for
what he did for the unfortunate creatures who came under his
ministrations, but as a public-spirited citizen and benefactor of the
town. It would be wrong if I did not pay a high tribute to the splendid
service done by him in Liverpool towards elevating the condition of our
own people. I would be ungrateful, too, if I failed to recognise the
great educational work he did in giving opportunities for culture to
many Liverpool Irishmen, myself among the number, which afterwards aided
their advancement in the battle of life. That is why I never regretted
that I gave Father Nugent, when conducting the "Catholic Times" for him,
three of the best years of my life. I never regretted my experiences in
connection with that paper, particularly in the reporting department,
for they were often very pleasant ones. Among these was my having been
introduced to the great Archbishop MacHale, when I went to St.
Nicholas's to report his sermon.

I have many vivid remembrances arising out of my connection with the
"Catholic Times."

It was during the time I was in charge of it that we started the Irish
national organisation on this side of the Channel--the Home Rule
Confederation of Great Britain, formed at our first annual convention
held in Manchester, at which I was elected as the first General
Secretary of the organisation.

I was at the same time secretary of the Liverpool Catholic Club, and in
that capacity I assisted in entertaining the Canadian Papal Zouaves when
passing through Liverpool on their way home, after their gallant but
unsuccessful struggle to uphold the power of the Pope against the
revolutionaries.

In the same way it became my duty as secretary of the club to organise
the Catholic vote in Liverpool on the occasion of the first School Board
Election. The Irish and those of Irish extraction in Liverpool being
reckoned as about one-third of the population, the Catholic body is
correspondingly numerous. We surprised both friend and foe in the
results. There were fifteen members to be elected, and we asked our
people to give three votes for each of our five candidates. They were
not only elected, but the votes actually given for them--on the
cumulative principle--could have elected eight out of the fifteen
members of the Board.

Father Nugent, though immensely popular with all classes, was not, I
think, a _persona grata_, any more than myself, with Canon Fisher, the
Vicar-General of the diocese, who was very anti-Irish, and, so far as he
could, prevented anyone connected with the "Catholic Times" coming into
personal contact with Bishop Goss, who was a typical Englishman of the
best kind. The bishop had a blunt, hitting-out-from-the-shoulder style
of speaking in his sermons that compelled attention. But you could
hardly call them sermons at all; they were rather powerful discourses
upon social topics, which, from a newspaper point of view, made splendid
"copy." Accordingly, during the year before his death, I followed him
all over the diocese to get his sermon for each week's paper. There is
no doubt that Dr. Goss's sermons helped materially to put a backbone
into the "Catholic Times" and greatly to increase its circulation.

In one of the rural districts the bishop was giving an illustration of
the meaning of "Tradition," and, very much to my embarrassment, I found
him taking me for his text. He said--"So far as I know, there were no
newspapers in Our Lord's days; there was nobody taking down _His_
sermons, as there is to-day taking mine; so that _His_ teaching had to
be by word of mouth, and much of it has come down to us as Tradition."

In the interest of the paper, Father Nugent was anxious that I should be
introduced to the Bishop. But he knew, as well as I did, that the
difficulty in the way of this was what might be called the Grand Vizier,
Canon Fisher. "You should push forward, Denvir," Father Nugent would
say, "after Mass is over, and ask to see the Bishop." Over and over
again I did so, but was always met at the vestry door by Canon Fisher,
with his suave smile. "Well, Mr. Denvir, what can I do for you?" "I
would like to see his lordship," I would say. No use. The Canon would
say--"No, no; don't trouble the Bishop; I can give you all the
information you want;" and so it went on, and I was baffled in my
attempts.

I ought to say that, though Canon Fisher was able to keep me from coming
into personal contact with Bishop Goss, Father Nugent was too strong for
him in the end; for, eventually, we got into communication with the
Bishop regularly every week on the subject of his sermons. Each Monday
as soon as my copy was set up, we sent him a proof, which he would read
and correct and return. But his "corrections" often included the
addition of altogether new matter, which made the sermon the more
interesting and valuable to us. Indeed, on several occasions, we used
his new matter, with slight alterations, as leaders. The very week he
died we had one of these leaders in type, and it appeared in the same
issue which announced his death.

When Cardinal Vaughan became Bishop of Salford, Father Nugent succeeded
in getting his support and influence for the "Catholic Times," a most
valuable thing for us, seeing that Manchester, though with a smaller
Catholic population than Liverpool, was of more importance from a
publishing point of view, as from that city can be more readily reached
a number of large manufacturing towns, of which it is the centre. Again
it was--"Denvir, you must see the Bishop." But this time there was no
difficulty, as an appointment had been made for me. Accordingly, by
arrangement, I reached Manchester one morning between six and seven
o'clock, that being the most convenient time for him that Bishop Vaughan
could give me, and together we discussed the best means of forwarding
the interests of the paper in the diocese of Salford. I found him,
besides being a man of courtly presence, as we all know, most
broad-minded and genial, and keenly alive to the influence which a good
newspaper would have upon his people.

Whenever I see the "Catholic Times," I feel gratified at its very
existence, as a proof that my three years with Father Nugent were not
altogether spent in vain. For when he placed its control in my hands on
his departure for America, I found it with a very small circulation, and
anything but a paying concern; whereas, when I yielded up the trust into
his hands, I had the satisfaction of handing over to him a substantial
amount of cash in hand, a statement of assets and liabilities showing a
satisfactory balance on the right side, and a paper with a largely
increased and paying circulation.

For many years previous to his death, I did not come into contact with
him. Indeed it was only the year before he died that I had the
pleasure--and it was all the more a pleasure as we had differed strongly
during previous years on some points--of meeting him at his house in
Formby. This was before his last visit to America, where he contracted
the illness which terminated in his death soon after his return to
England.



CHAPTER XII.

THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR--AN IRISH AMBULANCE CORPS--THE FRENCH FOREIGN
LEGION.


When the Franco-Prussian War broke out, the sympathy of Ireland was
naturally, for historic reasons, on the side of France. It was not
surprising, then, that many young Irishmen who had served in America, or
in the ranks of the Papal Volunteers, or had borne a share in the Fenian
movement, were anxious to show their sympathy in a practical way, and at
the same time to gratify the national propensity for a fight

                --in any good cause at all.

I happened to number among my friends some of these young Irishmen, of
whom I may mention Captain Martin Kirwan, James Lysaght Finigan, Edmond
O'Donovan, Arthur Forrester, Frank Byrne, and James O'Kelly. There was a
strong feeling in Ireland to send a considerable body of men to France,
but the law stood in the way. It was evaded by the formation of an
Ambulance Corps, and for this generous subscriptions flowed in, along
with numerous applications from volunteers. These were all medically
examined, as if for a regular army, and in this way as fine a body of
young men as ever left Ireland was picked from those who had
volunteered. The ambulance service was equipped in the most perfect
manner, and presented to the French nation. On arriving in France, there
were (as was, of course, intended) more men than were required for the
ambulance duties, and these at once volunteered for service as soldiers.
They were formed into a company under the command of Captain Kirwan, one
of the sergeants being Frank Byrne, who was afterwards Kirwan's
colleague as an official of the Irish constitutional organisation in
Great Britain. The company might have developed into a regiment, and
even into a brigade, had the movement started earlier to get men over to
France by various means. This could have been done, notwithstanding the
Foreign Enlistment Act; and towards the end of the war, French agents
were in this country providing for the sending over of large numbers of
men to France, when the capitulation of Paris caused the collapse of
their arrangements.

The men of the Irish Ambulance Corps did their work so well as to show
that not only did Irishmen make good soldiers, but that, possessing the
sympathetic Celtic nature, their services were highly appreciated by the
wounded who fell to their charge. Captain Kirwan's company fought
bravely, sustaining the credit of their country through the whole
campaign, and, under Bourbaki, were among those who actually struck the
last blow the Germans received on French soil.

Arthur Forrester, who joined the French Foreign Legion, was severely
wounded in the foot. After the war he came into the office of the
"Catholic Times," when I was manager and John McArdle editor of that
paper. We welcomed him, of course, not only as an old friend and brother
journalist, but as one who had been fighting for France.

In his "Camp Fires of the Legion" written for my "Irish Library," James
Lysaght Finigan tells of his adventures in the war. He found his way to
Lille, in the north of France, and, with several hundreds of other
Irishmen became enrolled in the ranks of the Foreign Legion. In
Lieutenant Elliott he was delighted to recognise Edmond O'Donovan, who
had figured so prominently in the Fenian movement, and whose
incarceration in Ireland and exile in America were fresh in his memory.
"The Legion," Finigan says, "showed itself worthy of its predecessors,
the Irish Brigades of former days, during the reverses that constantly
befel the armies of France." He gives graphic accounts of the battles
they were engaged in, and how, in the defence of Orleans, he and a
number of his comrades were taken prisoners, among those being his
friend O'Donovan, who had been wounded by a piece of shell.

The Foreign Legion must have borne the brunt of the fighting. The fourth
battalion was cut to pieces at Woerth, Gravelotte, and Sedan; the fifth
battalion was reduced from 3,000 to some 300; the sixth battalion retook
Orleans, was compelled to abandon it, and covered itself with glory at
Le Mans and elsewhere; and the seventh was interned with Bourbaki in
Switzerland until the end of the war.

Although I often heard from him afterwards, the last time I met Edmond
O'Donovan, if I remember rightly, was in a North Lancashire town, in
which John O'Connor Power had been lecturing the same night. I forget
exactly who else of the "boys" were there--I think William Hogan was
one--but there were some choice spirits, and we made just such an Irish
night of it as Finigan describes they had when he and O'Donovan fought
in the Foreign Legion.

Edmond O'Donovan was the son of the famous Irish scholar and antiquary,
John O'Donovan, the translator from the Gaelic--with O'Curry and
Petrie--of that great Irish history, "The Annals of the Four Masters,"
and other manuscripts. The elder O'Donovan had made the acquaintance of
Sir Thomas Larcom, when both were young men together on the staff of the
Ordnance Survey. John O'Donovan appointed his friend Larcom to be
guardian of his children in case of his death.

It was Larcom's duty, as an official of the Government, to hunt down the
Fenians, both native and foreign, so that he had undertaken a serious
and perplexing charge. For O'Donovan's elder sons were strong
Nationalists and Fenians; so that, on the death of his old friend,
Larcom was like an old hen having charge of a brood of ducklings who
could not be kept from the troubled waters of Fenianism. There is no
doubt that Larcom's influence kept them from or saved them from a lot
of trouble. The O'Donovans were an accomplished family, the one I knew
best, besides Edmond, being Richard, who has held a responsible
mercantile position for some years, and who furnished me with much
valuable information about his father, when Thomas Flannery--one of our
best Gaelic scholars--was writing a life of Dr. John O'Donovan for my
"Irish Library" series.

Besides being thoroughly acquainted with several languages, Edmond
O'Donovan had an excellent scientific training, which was brought into
requisition in connection with the projected Fenian military movements
in Ireland. While a thorough classical scholar, the poems he liked best
were the songs of Thomas Davis and the Young Irelanders. He was slender
of figure and had a handsome oval face. In speaking, whether in private
or before an audience, he had an animated and expressive manner, with a
good deal of gesture, such as a Frenchman or Italian would use. I have
heard him singing songs like "Clare's Dragoons" with much fire and
fervour, throwing his whole soul into it in a way I can never forget.

In 1877-1878 he was a special correspondent in the Russo-Turkish war
with the Turkish army, and he sent home powerful and graphic accounts of
every battle and siege.

His intimate knowledge of Arabic stood to him in these and in the
Egyptian campaigns in which he afterwards took part. In 1879 he went
through Russia to the shores of the Caspian Sea, travelled through the
north of Persia and the adjacent territory of Khorassan, to the land of
the Tekke Turcomans, and to Merv, thus penetrating the mysteries of
Central Asia as no European traveller had ever done so perfectly before.
In 1881 he returned to England, and published his book, "The Merv
Oasis," and afterwards read a paper before the Royal Geographical
Society on "Merv and its surroundings."

Finally, in 1883, he went as special correspondent to the Soudan, and
there this brilliant Irishman perished with the whole of Hicks Pasha's
army. No tidings ever came of how Edmond O'Donovan met his death, but
those who knew him best feel that he must have yielded up his gallant
spirit to its Creator with a courage and fortitude worthy of an
Irishman.

In January, 1906, I had occasion to call upon his brother Richard in
Liverpool, and asked if they had ever got any trace of Edmond. Nothing
had been heard of how he had actually perished, but an authentic relic
of him had fallen into the hands of a priest in the Soudan. This was a
blood-stained garment, which was proved beyond doubt to have belonged to
him.

I have mentioned another name in connection with the Franco-Prussian
War--that of James O'Kelly. His career, like that of O'Donovan, had been
stormy and adventurous. I had previously met him in connection with the
Fenian movement.

He had been in the French army, and served in the campaign which was so
disastrous to the Mexican Emperor Maximilian. His adventurous
temperament led him again to join the French service during the
Franco-Prussian war. He was employed on the confidential mission of
raising a force of Irishmen for the war. I have described the formation
of the company under Kirwan, which was the outcome of the Ambulance
Corps. It will be seen, too, that there were a considerable number of
Irishmen in the Foreign Legion. But, after all, these did not amount to
a number sufficient to have much appreciable result on the ultimate
fortunes of the war. The French military authorities, knowing what
splendid fighting materials Irishmen would make, commissioned O'Kelly to
raise a large force. For this purpose he made Liverpool his
headquarters, and I was pleased to see him again when he called upon me
at the office of the "Catholic Times" My sympathies were strongly with
France, and I gave him what assistance I could in furthering the object
of his mission. At my suggestion, therefore, he took up his abode at the
hotel opposite our office, at the corner of Moorfields and Dale Street.
A large number of volunteers were got from among the advanced element in
Liverpool and surrounding towns, who wanted to learn the use of arms in
real warfare--their ultimate object I need not mention. From other
quarters in Ireland as well as England there were volunteers for the
French army. I had arranged through an emigration agent, Mr. Michael
Francis Duffy, a much respected and patriotic Irishman of singular
culture, for the charter of two steamers to take the men to Havre; but
just then Paris fell, after a long siege; the war ended, and the Irish
Legion project collapsed.

In 1872 James O'Kelly turned his attention to journalism as a
profession. He got his first opening on the "New York Herald," partly
through his thorough knowledge of the military profession, but still
more by that singular tact that never failed him under the most trying
circumstances.

Some years after, he called on me again in Liverpool, and I heard from
him of some stirring incidents in his career. Amongst those were his
perilous experiences in connection with the fighting in Cuba, from which
he narrowly escaped with his life.

Since then he has entered Parliament. He was a staunch supporter from
the first of Mr. Parnell. When the unfortunate "split" came, he took the
side of the "Chief," but none is more pleased than he to be a member of
the now re-united Irish Party.

In connection with the Franco-Prussian war I may be allowed to refer
here to a non-combatant, who, with his brother priests, remained at
their post during the terrible siege of Paris, ministering to the sick
and dying. This was my cousin, Father Bernard O'Loughlin, Superior of
the Passionist Order in Paris.

And yet, notwithstanding their noble services to humanity on this and
other occasions, the Passionist Fathers have since been driven out of
the country by the French Government. The announcement of the danger of
this, when it was first threatened, caused consternation in the foreign
Catholic colony of Paris, to whom the Passionist Fathers had endeared
themselves by their labours on behalf of needy and stranded
English-speaking people, and their devoted spiritual ministrations.

The Passionist mission in Paris was founded some forty years ago by
Father Bernard, with his friend, Father Ignatius Spencer, also a
Passionist, and uncle of the present Earl Spencer.

The Archbishop of Paris had invited the Passionists to establish a
church in Paris, on account of the number of Irish, American, and
English Catholics requiring religious ministrations, few of the French
clergy being able to speak English. Father O'Loughlin first commenced
his labours in the Church of St. Nicholas, in the Rue Saint Honoré,
where he remained three years. After this a sum of 200,000 francs was
subscribed, chiefly by Irish, American, and English residents, for the
site and building of a church. Father Bernard was soon joined by several
other members of the order sent from England, and there were always four
or five Passionist Fathers attached as chaplains to the church. The
following distinguished prelates have preached in this Church--Cardinal
Manning, Cardinal Newman, Cardinal Richard, Archbishop Ireland,
Archbishop Spalding, and Archbishop Passadière.

Mrs. Mackay was the most generous of the supporters of the order in
Paris; and, in 1903, when the fathers found themselves unable to pay the
tax created by the French "Loi d'accroissement," she paid down the
20,000 francs required to save the church.

Their devotion in remaining faithful to their flock during the long and
terrible siege of Paris in 1870 ought to have recommended them to the
sympathies of all patriotic Frenchmen. The Passionists not only
ministered to the spiritual but to the temporal wants of those coming
under their charge. They visited the sick and poor, relieved the age in
need, provided for orphans, and assisted stranded Irish and English
governesses, irrespective of creed, who had come to Paris in search of
situations. Those who suffered most from the withdrawal of the
Passionists were the poor and afflicted.

The Cardinal Archbishop of Paris, the American Embassy, and the British
Ambassador, addressed the French Government on their behalf, pointing
out that the services of the Passionists were indispensable--but in
vain. It is humiliating that the government of what is supposed to be a
great Catholic nation like France should be appealed to in such a cause,
fruitlessly, by the ambassador of non-Catholic England.

Father Bernard O'Loughlin's name in the world was John, after his
father, my mother's brother, John O'Loughlin. The elder John was a
brewer's traveller, and often came to our house in Liverpool, bringing
his violin with him. He had a wide knowledge of old Irish airs, and to
his accompaniment we had many a genuine Irish night, singing the
stirring songs then appearing in the "Nation."



CHAPTER XIII.

THE HOME RULE CONFEDERATION OF GREAT BRITAIN.


In the previous chapter it will be seen that I have somewhat anticipated
the course of events described in this narrative in order to give brief
sketches of some of my friends who took part, in various capacities, in
the Franco-Prussian war, and incidents arising out of it. I have also,
for the sake of compactness, briefly touched on their subsequent
careers.

I shall here now resume my recollections of the Home Rule movement from
its inception in 1870.

From the first everything pointed to Isaac Butt as its leader. His
splendid abilities, even when ranged against us in the celebrated debate
in the Dublin Corporation with O'Connell, excited the admiration of his
fellow-countrymen; but now, when he had come over to the popular side,
he was welcomed with acclamation, the more so that his genial and
loveable nature was bound to win the hearts of a susceptible people like
ours. Moreover, his joining the popular side was due to the impression
made upon him by the Fenian leaders, so many of whom he defended in the
trials from '67 onward; and he has left on record a remarkable testimony
to the purity of their principles and the nobility of their ideals.

He was lacking in certain qualities, the want of which in his character
prevented him being such a strong leader as O'Connell or Parnell. But,
all the same, while he led he gave splendid services--which can never be
forgotten--to the cause.

As I have said, Alfred Crilly and I were generally expected to take the
initiative in any new Irish movement in Liverpool. Accordingly, towards
the end of 1871, we were asked to make a move in connection with the new
organisation in Ireland. We formed a small committee, and invited Isaac
Butt to our projected opening demonstration. He was not able to come to
our first gathering, but we had many opportunities during the years that
followed of making his acquaintance; and, personally, I received many
kindnesses at his hands. With Alfred Crilly I was sent to Dublin by the
Committee to find influential speakers for our public inaugural
Liverpool demonstration, to be held on the 3rd of January, 1872, our
association having been opened some months previously. We secured the
services of Mr. A.M. Sullivan and Professor Galbraith of Trinity
College.

When we returned to Liverpool it became our duty to find a chairman for
our meeting worthy of the occasion. Mr. Charles Russell, who was first
asked, suggested that we should get some one of more influence than
himself. "Why not ask Dr. Commins?" he said.

Dr. Commins was a barrister on the same circuit as Charles Russell. We
did ask him. He cheerfully consented, and from that hour he was for a
long time the leading figure in the struggle for Home Rule in Great
Britain, being for several years President of the organisation. There is
no more homely and unassuming man, ever accessible to the humblest of
his fellow-countrymen, than "the Doctor," as his friends affectionately
call him.

He had a brilliant university career, and was a man of such wide
attainments that I think there was a general belief amongst Liverpool
Irishmen that he knew _everything_. Accordingly, they used frequently to
go to him to settle some knotty point beyond the ordinary conception,
and they seldom came away unsatisfied.

Dr. Commins is an accomplished poet, and was for many years a
contributor to the columns of the "Nation" and the "United Irishman" (of
Liverpool). In 1876 he was elected as a Home Ruler to represent Vauxhall
Ward in the Liverpool Town Council. He has ever since been a member of
that body, being now an Alderman of the city. In due time he became a
member of the Irish Parliamentary Party, of which several other
Liverpool Irishmen have been members.

Liverpool was not alone in forming its Home Rule Association; most of
the large towns had them in due course, but for some time there was no
bond of union between them. This, however, was formed in due time, the
man to take the first step in bringing us together being John Barry,
then residing in Manchester, and the chief man in our organisation
there.

John was, therefore, practically the founder of the great organisation
which, under its various names--of the Home Rule Confederation of Great
Britain. Irish National Land League of Great Britain, Irish National
League of Great Britain, and United Irish League of Great Britain--has
been in existence since 1873, working in accordance with and taking the
name of whatever has been the recognised organisation for the time being
in Ireland.

John Barry, who had borne an active share in the struggle for
self-government--irrespective of the methods being constitutional or
unconstitutional--was a man of attractive personality and an
indefatigable worker and organiser. He was the Secretary of the
Manchester Home Rule Association, and, seeing the want of some body in
which the various associations in Great Britain would be represented,
he, in the name and with the authority of his branch, issued invitations
to the associations then known to exist to send delegates to a
Convention to be held in Manchester. To give importance to the occasion,
and the necessary authority, Isaac Butt was invited to preside, and to
attend a great demonstration in the Free Trade Hall, on the night of the
Convention, January 18th, 1873.

Although I bore an active part in the organising of that first Home Rule
Convention of Great Britain, it is only a short time since, after a
lapse of over thirty years, that I heard from John Barry himself the
difficulty he had in securing the presence of the Home Rule leader. It
was a long time since we had seen each other, but I found him the same
cheery, warm-hearted, generous, and patriotic John Barry as ever. It
was in the office of his firm in London we met, and took advantage of
the opportunity to fight our battles over again; and he reminded me of
the sort of inner circle of the I.R.B. to which he and I, and others who
have since been prominent in Irish politics, belonged.

He was always, however, a practical patriot, and would use every
legitimate method to serve Ireland. That was why he threw himself with
such ardour into the Home Rule movement.

He told me of how he went over to Dublin to secure the promise of Isaac
Butt to preside at the projected Convention, and to attend the
demonstration in the evening. He got the requisite promise, and the
announcement was made in all good faith in Manchester. So far all looked
promising; but what was his alarm to hear, within three days of the
event, that Isaac Butt's professional engagements would prevent his
being able to attend. Added to this he had heard that Butt, who was of a
somewhat irresolute temperament, was being warned that he was falling
into the hands of a "Fenian gang."

Barry spent all the money he had in sending to the Irish leader a
telegram as earnest, hot, and forcible as he was capable of, beseeching
him to come, and pointing out to him the serious consequences to the
Cause in Great Britain of his failure to do so. This telegraphic budget
reached Butt in Court; and, as he turned over leaf after leaf of the
message, he said to a friend sitting alongside of him--"This man's in
earnest, at any rate," and immediately wired back--"Will go, if alive."

Apart from the offensiveness of styling us a "gang," those who had
warned Butt of the hands into which he was falling may not, probably,
have been far astray as regards some of those from whom he had received
the invitation; seeing that when the organisation for Great Britain was
duly formed, John Barry, John Ryan, John Walsh, and myself were elected
on the Executive; but, at all events, Isaac Butt turned up.

Some twenty Home Rule Associations responded to the invitation by
sending delegates to the Convention. There is a remarkable contrast
between this, the first of these Conventions, and those held every year
since; for, at some of those, several hundreds of branches have been
represented--showing the growth of the organisation since 1873.

At this Manchester Convention, at which Mr. Butt presided, it was
resolved to form a central body from the existing local associations, to
be called the Home Rule Confederation of Great Britain. Isaac Butt
himself was elected the first President. I was elected the first General
Secretary, and it became my duty to find out the existing associations
which had not sent delegates to Manchester, and to invite them, as well
as those who had been represented at the present gathering, to a
supplementary convention. It was decided to hold this in Birmingham, to
complete the arrangements made in Manchester for the future working of
the organisation.

On the night of the Manchester Convention Mr. Butt was the chief speaker
at the public demonstration. Mr. John Ferguson, of Glasgow, was our
Chairman. He was a sterling Ulster Protestant Nationalist. Many used to
think he was a Scot. Indeed, I thought at one time myself he must be of
Scottish extraction at all events, there being, I thought, more Scottish
Fergusons than Irish. Speaking to him on the subject, I was reminded by
him of the Irish king, Fergus, the founder of the Scottish monarchy; and
he claimed to be of genuine Irish descent.

He often used to call on me when I was conducting the "Catholic Times."
At that time he was travelling for his firm of Cameron & Ferguson, who
published a good many popular works on Irish subjects. We were both
pleased to hear of the initiative John Barry had taken towards the
formation of the Irish organisation of Great Britain. If I remember
rightly, John Ferguson was in Liverpool at the time, and we went to
Manchester together to attend this our first Annual Convention.

After the Manchester Convention, I found there were considerably more
Home Rule Associations in existence than had been represented at our
first gathering. As a consequence we had a much larger and more
representative attendance at our adjourned Convention in Birmingham. Mr.
Butt presided in the morning and Mr. A.M. Sullivan in the afternoon.

The Chairman at the public demonstration at night was Father Sherlock,
one of the finest specimens of the good old "soggarth aroon" type it has
ever been my privilege to meet. Several years afterwards, when I was
organiser for the League in the Birmingham district, I was right glad
to have the opportunity of renewing my acquaintance with him. The very
contact with Father John Sherlock was elevating and inspiring, so
transparent were the simplicity and purity of his life. Here was a
saint, I thought, if ever there was one on earth.

In my experience I have generally found that the men who have taken the
lead in most places have been professional men rather than traders. This
was true of Birmingham as well as elsewhere. There were no men who did
better service than Hugh Heinrick, an able journalist (who afterwards
became editor of the "United Irishman," the organ of our Confederation),
and Professor Bertram Windle. I was glad to see in the newspapers the
announcement of such a genuine Irishman as Dr. Windle being appointed
President of the University College, Cork.

Professor Windle is an honour to his new position, and is as devoted to
the cause of creed and country as he was when one of the Professors of
the Queen's University, Birmingham.

During the years when I was organiser for the League in Birmingham; I
became intimately acquainted with him. I found him not only a man of
great learning, but an earnest Catholic and devoted Irish Nationalist.
No man in our organisation did better service, and he was always ready
to go at a moment's notice to speak or lecture wherever required.

As a further illustration of what I have said about the aid given to the
cause by professional men, I ought to mention Dr. James Mullin, of
Cardiff. He was a leading and active man in his district when I
travelled in South Wales as an organiser. His talent as a poet has made
him well known in Wales, and his accounts of travels in many lands have
found many admiring readers. His heart is as warm as his brain is
active, which is saying much.



CHAPTER XIV.

BIGGAR AND PARNELL--THE "UNITED IRISHMAN "--THE O'CONNELL CENTENARY.


The General Election of 1874 was remarkable as the first since the Union
which had clearly and distinctly returned a majority of Irish members of
Parliament as Home Rulers. Previously most of them had been returned as
Liberals or Tories. It is memorable in my eyes, as it was the occasion
when two of my personal friends, Alexander Martin Sullivan and Joseph
Gillis Biggar, first entered Parliament. It was in the year after he was
elected that Mr. Biggar made his _debut_ as an "obstructionist."

Charles Stewart Parnell having been, in the spring of 1875, elected as
successor in the representation of Meath to "honest John Martin," it was
not long before the famous "Biggar and Parnell" combination, which was
destined to revolutionize the whole system of Parliamentary procedure,
was created.

Feeling the necessity for a newspaper representing the views of the Home
Rule Confederation and chronicling its work from week to week, the
Executive promoted the formation of a limited liability company for the
purpose, and the outcome was the issue of the "United Irishman," the
first number of which appeared on June 4th, 1875. I was appointed
manager, and was also the publisher, the paper being produced at my
place of business, 68 Byrom Street, Liverpool. The following were the
Directors--Andrew Commins, LL.D., Chairman; and John Barry, Joseph
Gillis Biggar, M.P., John Ferguson, Richard Mangan, Bernard MacAnulty,
and Peter McKinley. William John Oliver was Honorary Secretary, with
Hugh Heinrick as Editor at the commencement, and Daniel Crilly
afterwards.

The newspaper was fortunate in its Honorary Secretary, for William John
Oliver was one of the most enthusiastic workers we ever had in the Home
Rule movement. He was at this time engaged in commerce in Liverpool,
having previously been an officer in the Royal Navy. He was ever willing
to be "the man in the gap" in case of an emergency, and that was how he
became for a time the Honorary General Secretary of the Home Rule
Confederation. He was always a cheery and, at the same time, an
eminently practical man. He took a leading part in our local elections
in Liverpool from the time we began to fight them on Home Rule
principles--when the necessity arose, as I have elsewhere explained, to
have public men who were not afraid to identify themselves with the
national cause.

Hugh Heinrick, our editor, was a brilliant writer, who had, for several
years, been a strenuous worker in the Home Rule cause. He was a frequent
contributor of poetry to the "Nation" and other national journals,
generally over the signature of "Hugh Mac Erin." He was born in the
County Wexford in 1831. Before taking up the editorship of the "United
Irishman" he was for many years resident in Birmingham, where he was a
schoolmaster. He died in 1887.

Daniel Crilly, one of the most active and eloquent advocates of the
Irish cause in Liverpool, succeeded him--this being his maiden effort in
journalism. He was afterwards on the staff of the "Nation," and also did
good service while a member of the Irish Parliamentary Party.

Among other contributors to the "United Irishman" were Isaac Butt, Dr.
Commins, Frank Hugh O'Donnell, Michael Clarke, Captain Kirwan, and Frank
Byrne. Our poetry was a strong point with us--Dr. Commins, Frank Fox,
John Hand, Patrick Clarke, Heber MacMahon, and Miss Bessie Murphy being
among the contributors.

When the "United Irishman" was started, the offices of the Home Rule
Confederation, which had previously been in Manchester, were for
convenience removed to my place of business. As the executive meetings
and the meetings of the newspaper directors were held there, I
frequently had the pleasure of meeting under my own roof Irishmen who
either then were or afterwards became prominent members of the Irish
Parliamentary Party, including Isaac Butt, Charles Stewart Parnell, and
Joseph Biggar.

Mr. Biggar and I were always great friends. He had the reputation of
being close-fisted and penurious; but that this was not so I knew from
many circumstances, though it is quite true he would not allow himself
to be defrauded of a penny.

He became a Catholic in his later days. Though such of us as were of
the household of the faith welcomed him into the fold, his conversion
did not increase his value in our eyes--indeed, from a political point
of view, he was of more service to the cause as an Irish Protestant,
there being too few of them in our ranks. He had a fresh, pleasant,
shrewd-looking face, and spoke with a decided northern accent, which had
somewhat of a metallic ring. Some of his brother Members of Parliament
thought his "obstruction" methods highly ungentlemanly, but he believed
in fighting England with her own weapons. If good Irish measures were
not allowed to pass, he would throw every obstacle in the way of English
measures being carried. The tempest of rage that assailed him in the
"House" only added to his popularity outside. Not only was he an immense
favourite amongst Irishmen, but with democratic Englishmen also; and at
great mass meetings of English miners and agricultural labourers he
could always get resolutions carried by the honest, hard-handed sons of
toil in favour of the restoration of Ireland's rights.

Biggar used to get many letters approving of the attitude he and Parnell
had taken up in Parliament. One in particular, from a warm admirer, he
used to show to his friends with great glee. It was a song in the old
"Come-all-ye" style. A few lines I can remember sang in words of high
commendation of--

  --Joseph Biggar,
  That man of rigour,
  Whose form and figure
    Do foes appal!

My place being the head-quarters of the Confederation at this time, the
fact of my being known to be generally on the spot made me a kind of
"man in the gap," to fill up engagements likely to fall through for want
of a speaker. In this way I was often rushed off to distant parts of the
country at the shortest notice.

The most important Irish event in 1875 was the celebration of the
O'Connell Centenary in Dublin, on Friday, August 6th. Our Confederation
was well represented in the processions, there being, as might be
expected from its proximity, a large contingent from Liverpool. So great
was the rush to cross the Channel for the celebration that we chartered
several of the fine steamers of the City of Dublin Company, and kept
them for several days fully employed in crossing and recrossing.

The pity of it was that there should be two processions--the magnificent
display organised by the official Centenary Committee and the procession
got up by the Amnesty Association.

The speeches of Messrs. Butt, Sullivan, and Power on the platform
erected in what was then Sackville Street, when the outdoor display
broke up, explained why the Amnesty Committee and their friends
considered that a protest was necessary and justifiable--hence the
second procession. The chief objections to the action of the official
committee were that, while all honour was to be paid to the memory of
O'Connell as the Liberator of his Catholic fellow-countrymen, his
services as the champion of the political freedom of the Irish people
were being kept in the background. Also--and that was why the Amnesty
Association for the release of political prisoners took the initiative
in the protest against the action of the Centenary Committee--because,
on a great national occasion like this, the very existence of the
martyrs for freedom, who were suffering in English prisons, appeared to
be forgotten. Such forgetfulness was considered at the least highly
inappropriate.

There was much indignation, too, that Lord O'Hagan should have been
chosen to speak the panegyric on O'Connell, seeing that he had actually
sentenced some of those very prisoners.

The Irish organisation in Great Britain sympathised with these views,
and the various branches sending contingents showed their feelings by
throwing in their part with the Amnesty Association.

The contingent from Great Britain was, on the proposition of Mr. Patrick
Egan, given the place of honour in front of the amnesty procession
which, on the morning of the Centenary celebration, the 6th of August,
1875, started from Beresford Place, near the Custom House. The banners
of the three Liverpool branches were a picturesque feature in the
procession, as also was the Sarsfield Band, a body of fine young
Liverpool Irishmen who headed our contingent.



CHAPTER XV.

HOME RULE IN LOCAL ELECTIONS--PARNELL SUCCEEDS BUTT AS PRESIDENT OF THE
IRISH ORGANISATION IN GREAT BRITAIN.


It was at the Liverpool Municipal Elections of 1875 that we first
introduced the question of Home Rule into local politics. When we were
holding our inaugural meeting to establish the Home Rule organisation in
the town, we could not get any of our Irish public men to take the
chair. The reason was that these had not been elected as Irishmen but as
Liberals. As a matter of fact, we had in Dr. Commins a man immensely
superior to any of them. But we thought that men who had been elected to
public positions mainly by Irish votes should not refuse to identify
themselves with the national movement, and to help it by whatever
influence they possessed. We therefore decided to _make_ some public
men. In Scotland and Vauxhall Wards we had a clear majority, but though
the Irish vote in these wards was expected for Liberal candidates, who
were not Irish or Catholic, in no other ward could a Catholic or
Irishman be elected. We, therefore, commenced to make a change by
putting forward for Scotland Ward one of our own men, Lawrence Connolly,
as a Home Ruler, and elected him _as such_. He afterwards sat in the
Imperial Parliament for an Irish constituency. His election was followed
in succeeding years by that of other Home Rulers, so that there was soon
a considerable Nationalist Party in the City Council, and no lack of
public men to do the honours for the Irishmen of Liverpool when any
distinguished fellow-countryman came amongst them. Their civic utility
was very great.

Though I have been over twenty years out of Liverpool, I have never lost
sight of what has been going on there, and I am pleased to find that the
younger generation--men whom we, the elders, have borne some share in
training--have improved upon our work, and that there are now
considerably more aldermen and city councillors than in our time.

That they are doing good work I am well satisfied, and nothing gives me
greater pleasure than to read from time to time in the papers such items
as a recent one--the presentation of a congratulatory address from the
local branches of the United Irish League to Councillor Thomas Burke on
the occasion of his being made a magistrate of the city of Liverpool. I
am somewhat proud of Tom Burke. I remember having charge of some
election that was going on, and his coming to me, a very small boy, from
Blundell Street, to offer his services. I put him in harness at once,
and he has been at work in the Cause ever since, and it is with pleasure
that I recognise the fact that he is a good type of numerous Irishmen
who were either born in Liverpool or spent most of their lives in that
city.

There was a dear old _Soggarth_ at St. Joseph's, who did good service
for us in our first municipal election in Scotland Ward. He had,
previous to this, been a fellow priest with my uncle, Father Bernard
O'Loughlin, in the Isle of Man. As Father Peter McGrath was a good Irish
scholar, he was soon able to make himself understood by such of the Manx
people as still retained their native speech, its basis being, like the
language spoken in the Scottish Highlands, practically--making allowance
for provincialisms--the Gaelic spoken in Ireland. This was a great help
to him and his brother priest in disarming prejudice.

Before I met Father McGrath in Liverpool I had heard from my uncle of
his delightful and saintly character. He was a ministering angel among
our people in his district, which was one of the poorest in Liverpool.
His charity was unbounded. Going on a sick call and being at the end of
his monetary resources--for let his friends give him ever so much he
would never leave himself a penny--he had been known to give away his
own underclothing, and even to carry away his bed-clothes to relieve
some case of abject poverty.

He was a thorough Nationalist, and was delighted when we first raised
the banner of Home Rule in Scotland Ward and made honest Lawrence
Connolly our standard bearer. As part of the Ward was in his district,
he was by far the best canvasser we had. Day by day he used to call on
me to hear of the progress we were making. With the active personal
help and the prayers of a saintly man like Father McGrath how could we
lose?

The return of a Home Ruler at an English municipal election was the
forerunner of a still greater victory won in the same Scotland Ward,
which as a Division of the Parliamentary Borough of Liverpool returned
to Parliament some ten years afterwards the only Irish Home Ruler who,
_as such_, sits for a British constituency--Mr. T.P. O'Connor.

At the Annual Convention of the Home Rule Confederation, held in the
Rotunda, Dublin, August 21st, 1876, Dr. Commins in the chair, a vote of
confidence in Mr. Butt was passed. At the same time what was known as
the "Obstruction" policy was endorsed, though Mr. Butt had given its
chief exponents, Biggar and Parnell, no countenance. It was also
resolved to remove the headquarters of the Confederation from Liverpool
to London.

Although, out of respect for his distinguished services, Mr. Butt was
allowed to remain as the nominal leader up to the time of his death, it
is quite evident that our people favoured the more active policy of the
younger men.

At a banquet given on the night of this Convention in the Ancient
Concert Room, Mr. Butt, as chairman, gave the toast of "The Queen, Lords
and Commons of Ireland." It will be seen elsewhere that I have always
objected to join in this toast on the ground that it implies an
acceptance of the existing condition of government in Ireland. Finding
it on the list, I remained away, but I am afraid my friends, who knew my
views, were scandalized at seeing in the newspaper report my name given
as having been present. How it occurred was through the reporter,
desiring, no doubt, to save himself the trouble of making out a new
list, giving the names of those who had been present at the Convention
as having attended the banquet. I had a somewhat similar experience at a
Newcastle-on-Tyne Convention--sixteen years later. The Newcastle men, in
the interval between the Convention and the banquet, asked my opinion
about the toast list. I gave them a sketch of what I thought a good one,
but said, "Don't have the Queen." They said they wouldn't, and I went to
the banquet. I was surprised to hear the chairman giving "The Queen,
Lords and Commons of Ireland." There was nothing for me to do but walk
out.

In Mr. Parnell Mr. Biggar found a colleague after his own heart in
working the "Obstruction" policy. From the time when I made the
acquaintance of Parnell, when he came amongst us, a shy-looking young
man, under the wing of Isaac Butt, we were drawn towards each other--he
because he looked upon me, from my life-long experience of them, as an
authority upon our people in this country, and I because I was impressed
by the terrible earnestness that I soon recognised underlying the young
man's apparently impassive and unemotional exterior. I was one of the
first he came in contact with in this country, and I believe he unbent
himself and showed more of his really enthusiastic nature to me than he
did to most men. He used to speak unreservedly to me. He knew my views
as to Irishmen taking the oath of allegiance and entering the British
Parliament, of which he was at that time a member. He knew that, holding
these views, I could not enter the British Parliament myself, though he
would have liked to see me there. With me it was a matter of conscience;
I could not take an oath of allegiance to any but an Irish Government.
At the same time, I have always been practical, and willing to fight
Ireland's battles with the weapons that come readiest to my hand. I,
therefore, always gave what support I could to the Irish Parliamentary
Party, who could conscientiously enter the House of Commons, and to the
recognised Irish organisations for the time being.

It is not to be expected that every Irishman, even every Irish
Nationalist, will be of one mind as to which way his duty lies in
serving his country. After all, a man who can honestly say "I am an
Irishman and I love my country" is already nine-tenths of the way to
being a Nationalist. If such a man tries to do his best, according to
his lights, for Ireland, he is entitled to all possible sympathy from
even those who are working on other lines.

On one occasion, when Parnell had returned from a special mission to
America, I had a long discussion with him on these points, and was bound
to admit that the British Government would have been much better pleased
to encounter an insurrection in Ireland, which they could easily put
down, than the policy of the so-called "Obstructionists" in Parliament.
Again, I said, there was another fact which I recognised. This was that
his being sent on a mission to America, whence he was then returning,
showed the value of having a man holding such a well-recognised position
as a member of Parliament, elected by the votes of his
fellow-countrymen, in case we had to send a representative to speak in
the name of Ireland to some other nation, a circumstance which had
happened before and might again. I said this, even taking into account
the apparent failure of the mission to America, from which he was
returning, for circumstances might arise in which the head of a State
might be glad to recognise an embassy like theirs. He told me that was
exactly how he viewed the subject.

It was in Dr. Commins' office that we had this conversation, and at our
request Mr. Parnell postponed his departure to Ireland in order to
attend a celebration we were having that night of Home Rule victories we
had achieved in two wards of the town, in Vauxhall by the return of Dr.
Commins to the Town Council, and in Scotland Ward by the election of Dr.
Alexander Bligh. Parnell's appearance at our festival, which was held on
Monday, November 13th, 1876, was a pleasing surprise to those present,
who were not aware of his return from America, and this added to the
intensity of the outburst of joy and enthusiastic applause which greeted
him.

One of the most important of our Annual Conventions in Great Britain was
that held in Liverpool on 27th August, 1877. Everything showed that,
while our people in Ireland and here still loved the old leader, they
favoured the policy of "Obstruction." At this Convention there was no
intention of displacing Mr. Butt from his position as President of the
organisation. They would have retained him on account of his
distinguished services and eminently lovable character. But the old man
himself could see plainly enough that the people wanted to move faster
than he was willing to lead, and, notwithstanding the appeals made to
him, insisted upon resigning his position. The Convention being
compelled to accept his resignation, Charles Stewart Parnell was elected
President of the organisation in his place. This was an indication of
what was likely to follow, for though Mr. Butt retained the nominal
leadership of the Irish Parliamentary Party up to the time of his death,
Parnell was the real leader, and eventually, after a short interval,
when Mr. Shaw held the office, became the Chairman of the Irish
Parliamentary Party.

John Ferguson was, I think, the first man publicly to indicate Parnell
as the probable successor of Butt. But so great is the dread in our
people of even the semblance of disunion, that many, myself among the
number, expostulated with him for this. Events, however, showed he was
right, and Mr. Butt himself plainly felt that it was inevitable. But at
the Convention, when Butt had distinctly refused to hold the office of
President any longer, nothing could be finer than the tribute paid to
our retiring leader by Mr. John Ferguson in proposing the election of
Mr. Parnell as his successor. As I was asked to take the official
account of that Convention, and have kept a record of it, I here give a
few words of his and some of the other speeches. He said:--

     It is my intention to propose Mr. Parnell as the head of the
     Confederation. At the same time I feel the greatest possible regret
     that our grand old chieftain who, in trying times, raised the Irish
     banner, who has so long guided us, and who has been with us in so
     many hard fights, is to retire from amongst us. We are grateful to
     Issac Butt for leading us so far, but we are going to try a more
     determined policy, and Mr. Butt holds views different from those we
     are determined to carry out. I hope, though, he will take counsel
     with the true and earnest men of the Party, and that, after a time,
     he will return to lead us at this side of the water.

Mr. John Barry, Mr. Biggar and others spoke in the same strain.

So also did Mr. Parnell, who, concluding his speech seconding the vote
of thanks to Mr. Butt, said:--

     I must confess to not having Mr. Butt's confidence in English
     justice and sense of right. It is not too late for him to see a way
     to deal with England that will obtain freedom for our country--a
     way that will show England that, if she will dare to trifle with
     Irish demands, it will be at the risk of endangering those
     institutions she feels so proud of, but which Irishmen have no
     reason to respect. To Mr. Butt is due a debt of gratitude by the
     Irish people which they can never repay, for he has taught them
     self-reliance and knowledge of their power. If I have felt it my
     duty to put myself in antagonism with Mr. Butt I hope he will
     forgive me. If I have said or written harsh things I have never
     said more nor less than was due to the gravity of the occasion.

Mr. O'Donnell, who expressed a wish that the next session might find Mr.
Butt at the head of a United Irish Party, supported the vote of thanks
to Mr. Butt, which was carried unanimously, and with all sincerity and
depth of feeling.

Mr. Butt replied, saying he would be ashamed of himself if he were
unmoved by that vote, and the manner in which it had been passed. He
hoped that the wish expressed by Mr. O'Donnell might be realized, and it
would not be his fault if they had not a United Irish Party in the House
of Commons. After expressing his good wishes for the Home Rule
Confederation of Great Britain, which he hoped might long continue to
assert the power of the Irish people in this country, he took his
farewell.

Mr. Parnell was then elected President.

The Convention of 1877 ended with the adoption of a resolution, on the
motion of Mr. Peter Mulhall (Liverpool), seconded by Mr. Ryan (Bolton):--

     That this Convention of the Home Rule Confederation of Great
     Britain hereby endorses the vigorous policy of the Home Rule
     Parliamentary Party who are termed "Obstructionists."

Mr. Mulhall just mentioned was an active worker in the National ranks in
Liverpool, and even a more valuable adherent a little later was his
younger brother James, one of the most thorough, sincere, and upright of
our young men, who never spared himself when there was good work to do.

Before the venerable figure of Isaac Butt disappears from the scene, let
me say a few words about his eminently agreeable personality.

There was not an atom of selfishness about him. I remember his making
little of the difficulties some people used to raise in connection with
the planning of a Home Rule Bill, and saying, "Three men sitting round a
table could in a short time draw up a plan of Home Rule for Ireland that
would act, providing people all round meant honestly."

He used to tell us humorous anecdotes of his experiences in the courts,
of which I can recollect the following one: "A man came before a
magistrate to have a neighbour bound over to keep the peace. In his
deposition he stated after the usual preamble: 'That said Barney Trainor
at said time and place threatened to send said deponent's soul to the
lowest pit of Hell, and this deponent veribly believes that had it not
been for the interference of the bystanders the aforesaid Barney Trainor
would have accomplished his horrible purpose.'"

Another story that I remember him telling was as to the origin of "Bog
Latin." A sheriff's officer was sent to serve a writ, but the object of
his search took refuge in a bog. The sheriff's officer, determined to do
the thing properly, endorsed his writ "Non comeatibus in swampo," and in
Irish legal circles the term "Bog Latin" was thereafter used to describe
any mode of caricature of the ancient tongue.

In something less than two years after Charles Stewart Parnell had
succeeded him as our President, Isaac Butt died, on the 5th of May,
1879, mourned by Ireland as one of the most brilliant, patriotic, and
self-sacrificing men she had ever nurtured.

Of the members of Parliament and embryo members present at the 1877
Convention, I should say a word of Tim Healy, by which name he is most
frequently known, who, since then, has been on many occasions one of the
most prominent figures in Irish politics.

From the day when I first met him, a keen, quick-witted, enthusiastic
Irish lad of about 18, from Newcastle-on-Tyne, until this 1877
Convention and later, he did good work for the Cause. Great as is my
affection for him, my pain at his attitude in recent years has been as
great.

From the time we began to work together in the Home Rule movement I
should say that Timothy Healy had not left his native place, Bantry,
more than a couple of years.

He is related to the Sullivan family, the connection being still closer
from the fact that his wife is a daughter of our veteran poet, T.D.
Sullivan, for whom I have always had the warmest admiration.

Like myself, Healy had a leaning towards journalism, and we had a common
ground in our admiration of the "Nation" newspaper, not only the
"Nation" of O'Connell and the Young Irelanders, but of the Sullivans.

Nothing, therefore, could be more congenial to him than to fill the post
of London letter writer to that paper.

He made his mark at once, as being a worthy scholar of the "Nation"
school, both past and present, and no one recognised this more quickly
than Charles Stewart Parnell. It was no doubt this appreciation that
prompted the new Irish leader to ask Tim Healy to become his private
secretary.

Parnell possessed in a remarkable degree a gift which was of great
service to him during his political career as the successor of Isaac
Butt. This was the faculty of weighing up the special qualities of the
various members of the Irish Party and using them accordingly. Without
attempting for a moment to underrate Parnell as a great leader of men, I
must say that there were members of the Party far abler in many respects
than he was, and, no doubt, in looking around for someone to supply the
qualities in which he, himself, was wanting, he could see that Healy was
the very man for his purpose.

When he was in America he wired to Tim offering him the post, which
offer was at once accepted, and, in the shortest possible time,
Parnell's new secretary had crossed the Atlantic, and was by his side
ready to be put in harness at once. It was an excellent combination, and
there can be no doubt but that, during the time that the connection
existed between them, Parnell owed much towards the successful carrying
on of the national struggle to his young secretary's inspiration.

Michael Davitt, in his "Fall of Feudalism," pays a high tribute to
Healy's splendid service in connection with Gladstone's Land Act.
Undoubtedly his was the credit for what became known as the "Healy
Clause," which provided that no rent should be payable for land on
improvements made by the tenant himself or his immediate predecessor.
Not only was this credit conceded to him of being the author of this
clause by distinguished fellow-countrymen like Michael Davitt and Lord
Russell of Killowen, but by Mr. Gladstone himself.

As I have referred to the opinions expressed on Healy in Michael
Davitt's book, perhaps I may be forgiven if I go out of my way somewhat
in referring to another passage in the same book, in which he pays a
well-deserved tribute to a noble Irishman, Patrick Ford, of the New York
"Irish World," with which, in common with Irish Nationalists the world
over, I cordially agree. There are some men whom you may never have seen
in the flesh, but whom you feel, through correspondence with them and in
other ways, that you know none the less thoroughly all the same. Such a
man is Patrick Ford. It is nearly forty years since I first made his
acquaintance, and the years that have passed have only increased my
regard for him.

I had the pleasure of welcoming in the columns of the "Catholic Times,"
which was then under my direction, the first number of the "Irish
World." I could feel at once that the paper and the man who edited it
had for me a congenial ring about them. I am deeply indebted for the
kindly and generous interest which Patrick Ford has so long personally
and in the columns of the "Irish World" shewn in the success of my Irish
publications, and I am delighted to have the opportunity of joining in
the tribute paid to him by Michael Davitt.



CHAPTER XVI.

MICHAEL DAVITT'S RETURN FROM PENAL SERVITUDE--PARNELL AND THE "ADVANCED"
ORGANISATION.


In the year following the Liverpool Home Rule Convention of 1877, I had
the pleasure of welcoming back to freedom my old friend, Michael Davitt,
after he had been in penal servitude close upon eight years. He had been
released, along with other Fenian prisoners, and, with Corporal
Chambers, came on April 28th, 1878, to a gathering we organised and held
in the Adelphi Theatre, Liverpool, for the benefit of the liberated men,
John O'Connor Power being the lecturer for the occasion, and Dr. Commins
our chairman.

Michael Davitt, on rising to speak, was received with a terrific
outburst of cheering, again and again repeated.

I was sitting immediately behind him on the platform, and I noticed,
while he was speaking, a constant nervous twitching of his hand, which
he held behind his back, and he was evidently in a state of
highly-strung excitement. I was not surprised when we had that day a
painful proof of how the prison treatment had undermined his
constitution. After the gathering we brought the released prisoners and
the principal speakers to be entertained at the house of Patrick Byrne,
a warm-hearted, patriotic Irishman, and were much alarmed when Davitt
fell into a deep faint, from which he only recovered through the
ministrations of one of our most respected Liverpool Nationalists, Dr.
Bligh, who fortunately was present. For a few moments it seemed as if he
never would revive.

There is no doubt but that their treatment during their long term of
penal servitude seriously affected the health of several of the Irish
political prisoners. It was only three months previous to his visit to
us in Liverpool that Davitt reached Dublin, with three others of the
released prisoners--Sergeant McCarthy, Corporal Chambers, and John
O'Brien. To the consternation of his friends, McCarthy died suddenly at
Morrison's Hotel, on January 15th, the cause, it was believed, being
heart disease. This caused such a shock to Chambers that his life, too,
was put in danger. I was pleased to see him restored to health after
this when he called on me in Liverpool with his brother, with whom I was
well acquainted. The shock of the sudden death of his friend McCarthy
must have affected Michael Davitt too, as we found from the report of
our friend, Dr. Bligh, in what a precarious state of health he must have
been at the time. It will be remembered that Rickard Burke became
insane, it was thought, and stated in Parliament, owing to his treatment
while in Chatham Prison.

Following our Liverpool gathering, we had on Sunday, May 5th, a meeting
in the St. Helens Theatre for the same object. At this Parnell as well
as Davitt was present. Speaking that day by desire of our St. Helens
friends, I called attention to the appropriateness of our addressing the
assembly from the boards of a theatre on which there had been the mimic
representation of many a stirring drama. But no play the audience had
ever witnessed on those boards could exceed in dramatic interest the
life of the released convict, Michael Davitt. Nay, more, the grudging
terms on which he had been released enabled him to appear that day in
the real living character of a "Ticket-of-Leave-Man," which, no doubt,
they had seen impersonated on those boards by some clever actor in the
play of the same name.

I am reminded of that St. Helens meeting by a passage in Michael
Davitt's book "The Fall of Feudalism in Ireland." I travelled from
Liverpool to St. Helens to attend the meeting in the same carriage with
Mr. Parnell. As I could always speak unreservedly to him I knew that
though he would not actually join the advanced organisation, he regarded
it as a useful force behind the constitutional movement. In the
carriage, which it so happened we had to ourselves, we discussed the
probabilities of the result of a resort to physical force for securing
Irish freedom, should circumstances justify such a course, for Parnell
would not have shrunk from taking the field if there had been a
reasonable hope of success. Singularly enough, I find in Michael
Davitt's book that he himself, on the day of that same St. Helens
meeting, made an advance to Parnell with a view to getting him to join
the revolutionary organisation, should the conditions be somewhat
modified. Up till then I had seen more of Parnell than Davitt had and
had enjoyed his full confidence. I had, therefore, come to the
conclusion, from my conversations with him, that he was of far more
service to the Irish cause as he was than if he had actually joined the
revolutionary movement. I am not surprised, therefore, at Parnell's
answer to Davitt: "No, I will never join any political secret society,
oath bound or otherwise. My belief is that useful things for our Cause
can be done in the British Parliament."

Nevertheless, I remember one public utterance of his which always struck
me as most statesmanlike. After a frank statement that he was in favour
of constitutional Home Rule, he, with equal frankness, declined to
subscribe to the entire finality of that solution of the Irish problem.
How, he asked, could he or any man put bounds to the progress of a
nation?

Seeing that Gladstone gave as one reason for the disestablishing of the
Irish Church "the intensity of Fenianism," so, in the same way, no one
recognised more than Parnell did that the existence of a physical force
movement was a strong argument for those engaged in the moral force
agitation. Therefore he was always anxious to conciliate and even
cultivate the advanced element. Of this I will here give one
illustration, out of many I could mention, and this in connection with
the custom of drinking what was called "the loyal toast," which at one
time used to be observed at some Home Rule celebrations. It is a matter
on which I have already explained my point of view.

On one occasion Mr. Parnell was invited by the Liverpool branches to a
St. Patrick's Day banquet at the Adelphi Hotel, where the drinking of
the "loyal" toast was part of the programme. With the rest of the
committee I met him at the railway station on his arrival, and came with
him to the hotel. After some conversation I was bidding him
"good-night!" when he asked, as he took my hand, "Where are you going,
Denvir? Are you not going to stay for the banquet?" I had not intended
mentioning it, but as he asked me so pointedly, I felt bound to tell him
my objection to being present. He did not attempt to controvert what I
said, but still asked where I was going. I then told him I had been
invited to a St. Patrick's celebration where the toast was _not_ to be
drunk, the gathering being one of our advanced Nationalist friends.

He at once said "I should like to go there." I told him I was sure they
would be delighted to see him, and that, as theirs was a dance, and it
would be kept up pretty late, I would come back for him after the
banquet, and take him to the other celebration. Our friends were well
pleased at his wish to attend, and asked me to go back and bring him to
where a hearty _cead mile failte_ awaited him. In due time I brought him
over, and they gave him an enthusiastic reception, he being quite as
delighted to be present as they were to receive him, and they were
still more pleased when he addressed a few words to them.

But that was as far as Parnell would go, and his answer to Davitt that
day at St. Helens pretty well indicated the course he intended to pursue
in connection with the cause of Ireland.

Indeed, it is on record that in later years Michael Davitt altered his
own view to such an extent that he would no longer have made that
proposition to Parnell.

There was no man whose regard I more valued than that of Michael Davitt.
Amongst all the vicissitudes of Irish politics our friendship was an
unbroken one. He was little more than a boy when I first met him at a
small gathering to which none but the initiated were admitted. From the
first I was strongly drawn towards that tall, dark-complexioned,
bright-eyed, modest youth, with his typical Celtic face and figure. He
was in company with Arthur Forrester, who was a fluent speaker and
writer, and who on this occasion did most of the talking, Davitt only
throwing in some shrewd remark from time to time. We know since that he
had in him the natural gift of oratory, though it was not that so much
as other qualities which gave him the commanding position in Irish
politics which he afterwards reached.

He had then spent several of the best years of his life in penal
servitude for his connection with the physical force movement. Thinking
long and hard in the solitude of his prison cell, Davitt resolved that
the first vital need of Ireland was to plant firmly in the soil of
Ireland the people who were being uprooted--in other words, the land
system must be changed.

The result of his convictions was the formation of the Irish National
Land League, which dated its birth from the great meeting projected by
Davitt and held at Irishtown in April, 1879. Mr. Parnell was elected
President of the new organisation, Mr. Patrick Egan treasurer, and
Michael Davitt was one of the secretaries. He has been justly called the
"Father" of the Land League.

One of the earliest acts of the Land League was to endeavour to stop the
tide of emigration from Ireland. In this connection, as certain
emigration schemes had been set on foot in England, a branch of the
League was founded in Liverpool at my request by Parnell and Davitt.

In consequence of the prevailing distress and impending famine, Mr.
Parnell was asked by the Irish National League to go to America to get
the assistance of our people there, and Mr. John Dillon was asked to
accompany him.

Though there was little done by the Government to relieve the distress,
the Irish people could always get coercion without stint, and Messrs.
Davitt, Daly and Killen were arrested for "seditious" speeches in
connection with the Land League agitation.

To protest against this, Mr. Parnell, previous to his departure for
America, attended a great open-air demonstration in Liverpool. The
gathering was held in the open space in front of St. George's Hall, and
it was computed that about 50,000 people were present. When the meeting
was publicly announced, there was a proclamation from the Orange
Society, calling upon the brethren to put down the "Seditious
gathering." Upon this our committee took the precaution of enrolling
stalwart "stewards" to preserve order. Among those who offered their
services were a large number of the Irish Volunteer Corps, under the
command of Sergeant James MacDonnell, a County Down man of fine
proportions and shrewd brain. To him was entrusted the direction of the
whole body of our men on the day of the meeting. The advanced party also
gave their services, and non-commissioned officers and men of the other
volunteer corps besides the Irish, skilled in military movements, gave
valuable help. Round the platform were a select body of nearly a
thousand men, many of them carrying revolvers in their pockets, ready
for action.

The Orange body must have heard of our elaborate preparations, and
finding "discretion the better part of valour," they countermanded their
proclamation to break up the meeting.

The authorities of the town made full preparations to cope with possible
disturbances, and inside St. George's Hall they had, carefully kept out
of view, a large body of the town police, armed with revolvers in
addition to their batons. In a window of the North Western Hotel,
overlooking the meeting, was the chief constable, and with him were
magistrates, prepared to read the Riot Act if necessary.

It was arranged that as I was at that time probably the best known man
in the Irish body in Liverpool, I should be stationed on a prominent
part of the platform, which consisted of two lorries, in view of all,
and alongside me, our general, Sergeant MacDonnell. As showing how well
in hand was that immense body of people it was remarked that when the
carriage of Dr. John Bligh, whose guest Mr. Parnell was, drew up in the
street, facing the platform, and when I made a motion with both hands,
to show where a passage was to be made for Mr. Parnell from the street
to the platform, how quickly and accurately the opening was made in that
dense and apparently impenetrable body of people.

In Ireland, at this time, men were being prosecuted for what were termed
"seditious" speeches. When Mr. Parnell stood up to speak he stepped upon
a chair, that he might be the better seen, and said "I am going to make
a seditious speech." A strong motion was passed at this meeting
condemnatory of coercion in Ireland. On the same evening a great
demonstration was held in the League Hall.

The authorities must have considered the St. George's Hall meeting a
very serious business, and it was evidently made note of by the police
for use afterwards.

At the "_Times_ Forgeries Commission," Mr. Parnell was questioned about
this gathering, and about several on the platform who were mentioned by
name. Asked if this one or that one were connected with the Fenian
movement, he generally answered he did not think so. When my name was
put to him by the Attorney-General (now the Lord Chief Justice), who was
cross-examining him, he replied "He might have been."

In a short time after the Liverpool demonstration Messrs. Parnell and
Dillon went to America, as had been arranged. They were everywhere
received with enthusiasm, and obtained sympathy and substantial help as
the ambassadors of Ireland.



CHAPTER XVII.

BLOCKADE RUNNING--ATTEMPTED SUPPRESSION OF "UNITED IRELAND"--WILLIAM
O'BRIEN AND HIS STAFF IN JAIL--HOW PAT EGAN KEPT THE FLAG FLYING.


"United Ireland suppressed" was the chief headline in the morning papers
on the Friday before the Christmas of 1881.

In point of fact, what had happened was that the detectives, acting
under the extraordinary powers given by the special "law" in force in
Ireland, had invaded the offices of the Land League organ the night
before, and seized all the copies of the paper found on the premises.

It was a bungled job, for the country edition had already gone out,
including the supplies for England and Scotland, so that the only copies
seized were those intended for Dublin and the suburbs.

Nothing indicated the intensity of the struggle going on between the
government and the people more than the dead set which was being made
against "United Ireland." Its editor was in jail, its sub-editor was in
jail, most of its contributors were in jail, even the commercial and
mechanical staffs had been seized, one by one, and in the paper each
week the names and descriptions of the victims appeared, prominently
set out in tabular form, in the place where the first leading article
had previously been printed.

But, in spite of these difficulties, the paper appeared regularly each
week, its fiery spirit not a whit abated, and its outspoken exposure of
Mr. "Buckshot" Forster and his methods in no way curtailed. Confronted
with this open failure, the government swallowed the last vestige of its
regard for appearances, and made the bold attack on the liberty of the
press involved in the seizure and attempted suppression of "United
Ireland."

It was not the first time (nor has it been the last) in Ireland that a
national organ was thus attacked. From the days of the United Irishmen,
towards the close of the 18th century, to those of 1867, there had been
a long series of suppressions, of which, perhaps, John Mitchel's "United
Irishman" (1847) and the Fenian "Irish People" are the best remembered
instances.

In this case, however, the leaders of the popular movement determined
that they would not be put down, but would use all "the resources of
civilization"--to quote Mr. Gladstone's famous phrase--to keep the flag
flying. I am very proud of the fact that they invited me to be their
instrument.

What happened was that two members of the printing staff, Mr. Edward
Donnelly, foreman, and Mr. William MacDonnell, assistant foreman,
escaped to England, taking with them stereo plates of the "suppressed"
issue. From these plates, my own jobbing machines not being big enough
to print a full-sized newspaper, I got a local firm to print sufficient
copies to cover the Dublin supply, which, as I have explained, had been
the only part of the issue which fell into the hands of the police. A
quantity of these papers, made up in innocent looking parcels, my son,
then a schoolboy, took over with him in the steamer from Liverpool to
Dublin, as personal luggage. He was to take them to the address which
had been given to him of a member of the staff who was then "on his
keeping." I was alarmed the following morning, Christmas Eve, 1881, to
read in the newspapers of the arrest of this gentleman, and feared that
my son would also fall into the hands of the police. But he had acted
with wariness. Leaving the luggage behind him in the steamer, until he
found how the land lay, he saw the people of the house, heard of the
arrest, and at once made his own arrangements for supplying the Dublin
newsagents, in which task he received invaluable help from two gentlemen
on the "Nation" staff, Daniel Crilly and Eugene O'Sullivan.

Thus the _whole_ of the issue of the "suppressed" number actually
reached its destination. For future issues arrangements were made
between my old friend Mr. Patrick Egan, Treasurer of the Land League,
who was then in Paris, and myself. Our letters were never addressed
direct, but always through third persons, the intermediary in Paris
being Mr. James Vincent Taaffe, and, in Liverpool, Miss Kate Swift. Mr.
Egan had been sent to Paris to keep the League Funds out of the hands of
Dublin Castle, and to maintain intact the machinery of the League, for,
it must be remembered, Parnell, Davitt, William O'Brien, and most of our
prominent men were at the time in jail.

Although illegal in Ireland, there was nothing in the ordinary law to
prevent the printing and circulation of "United Ireland" in Great
Britain. Arrangements were, therefore, made with the Metropolitan
Printing Works, London, for the future production of the paper. For
several weeks the papers were printed by that firm, and sent to my place
of business in Byrom Street, Liverpool.

As I had, in ordinary course, to supply the whole of the newsagents in
England, Wales and Scotland, the police, by whom my place was, by day
and night, closely watched, could not know if in the quantity sent to me
from London I was getting a supply for Ireland.

The parcels for Ireland I could not send direct from Byrom Street, as
they would be followed by the police and traced. Therefore, for packing
and forwarding to Ireland, we used a fish-curing shed, not far from
Byrom Street, lent for the purpose by a patriotic Irishman, Patrick De
Lacy Garton, at that time a member of the Liverpool City Council.

With so many friends in Liverpool willing to assist, it was not
difficult to get the parcels of papers, through one channel or another,
into our depot each week.

I engaged the services of Mr. Michael Wolohan, to go to Ireland, and act
as forwarding agent. It was his task to get people in various parts of
the country to receive parcels of "United Ireland," the papers being
packed in such fashion as to correspond with the business of the person
to whom each consignment was made.

For instance, the edition for the week ending December 31st was packed
in hampers provided by Mr. Garton, who advised me to send the lot as
dried fish, and found a reliable consignee for them in Ireland. The
"dried fish" arrived safely, and then the most arduous part of Michael
Wolohan's work began. For it was difficult to get the actual parcels of
"United Ireland" into the hands of the agents and sub-agents unknown to
the police, but this he did with consummate address, and on the whole
very successfully.

On one occasion Michael wrote me he had a good consignee for "woollen
goods." Nothing easier, for here was Edward Purcell, a clothier, one of
our own young men, who afterwards became a city alderman, having a good
business in Byrom Street, Liverpool. Besides helping actively with the
"blockade running" in other ways, he at once gave us the necessary
wrappers in which he had got his own goods from his woollen merchants,
and assisted in packing our "woollen goods" in the correct fashion.
Needless to say, these safely reached the consignee in Ireland.

Although there was no illegality in printing "United Ireland" in London,
the printers were perpetually harassed by the police to frighten them
into giving up the job. The parcels for the British newsagents could not
legally be stopped, but with the watchful eye of the police all over
Ireland on the look-out for the proscribed paper, it is not surprising
that individual parcels fell into their hands. For that reason we took
care to send the various kinds of goods in the names of mercantile firms
whose loyalty was unquestionable. I should say that to this day these
firms have no idea of the large Irish trade they were doing at this
particular time.

But Liverpool became much too suspicious a place to send from. I
therefore adopted the plan of sending parcels, made up as various kinds
of merchandise, to friends in Manchester, from which city there was
regular communication with inland towns in Ireland, and these friends
sent on the parcels to their destinations more safely than if going
direct from Liverpool.

This scheme was working smoothly enough, but eventually the London
printers were frightened into giving up the contract, and the printing
had to be transferred to Paris.

It is needless to say that, during this time, Michael Wolohan, our agent
in Ireland (whose name had for the time being become Brownrigg), had the
utmost difficulty in escaping the attention of the police. Some parcels
he was sending by the Broadstone terminus were detected and seized. What
troubled him most was that, as he paid a considerable sum for carriage
on these, and as the railway company had not forwarded them, he was
entitled to have the money returned, But the police were on the look out
for the so-called Brownrigg, and it was thought best that he should not
venture near the station. It happened that week that my son arrived in
Dublin with some more of the kind of luggage he had brought over at
Christmas, and, with the recklessness of youth, he went to the station,
and, as Brownrigg, got the money returned.

"United Ireland" for the week ending January 28th, 1882, was printed in
Paris, in a section of a printing office rented by Patrick Egan, and
sent, addressed to me, for circulation in Ireland and Great Britain. The
parcels were seized on their arrival at Folkestone and Dover, and though
the seizure was illegal and I applied for the parcels as being my
property (a question being also asked in Parliament) we could get no
satisfaction.

But, notwithstanding the seizures made from time to time, it was
determined to keep the flag flying, and no matter what might be the
difficulty encountered in the production of "United Ireland," not an
issue was missed. Of course, as a natural consequence of these
difficulties, the paper was sometimes hard to be got, so that, taking
advantage of this, some of the newsvendors and all the newsboys in
Dublin were reaping a rich harvest, as, owing to the anxiety of the
people to get copies, they were frequently sold on the streets of the
cities and towns in Ireland at from 6d. to 2s. 6d. a copy. The continued
presence of the paper all over Ireland did perhaps more than anything
else to keep heart in the people. Accordingly, it must be kept going at
all hazards. The type for the paper continued to be set up in Paris,
and, after a certain quantity had been printed off each week, for
transmission by post and otherwise, the matrices from the type were
brought over to me by carefully selected agents from Paris. From these
stereotype plates of the pages were cast. As my own machine was not big
enough, I arranged with a Liverpool firm of printers to machine the
paper for me each week. Accordingly, they printed the papers for the
week ending February 4th, and delivered the bulk of them to us, so that
we got our parcels for that week sent off.

The police must have got one of the copies being sold by the Liverpool
agents, and finding it had no imprint (which was illegal) went to the
printers referred to, who, on this being pointed out, handed over to
them the few remaining copies.

As every printing firm was now afraid to touch "United Ireland," it only
remained for me to endeavour to print it with my own somewhat limited
appliances. It was now, therefore, reduced in size to four pages. Every
week, as before, the matrices were brought to me, and, from the castings
taken from these, I printed the papers on my own small machine, and sent
them to their various destinations.

And so the fight with the police went on with varying fortune. It was
true, as regards size, half our flag had in a manner been shot away, but
we still kept it flying, and the Government, with their standing army of
police, were never able to suppress "United Ireland."

As I expected, I was prosecuted for printing and publishing without an
imprint. Mr. Poland, Q.C., chief prosecuting counsel to the Treasury,
was sent down to conduct the case against me for the technical breach of
the law involved in the matter of the imprint, and I was fined a sum
amounting with costs to £25. I announced my intention in court of
continuing the publication, so the Government got very little
satisfaction out of their action.

Of the various editions of the paper produced in Ireland at this time I
shall not speak in detail, as in this narrative I only describe what
came within my own personal knowledge. Mr. William O'Brien in a later
issue referred to the mysterious and unconquerable fashion in which one
town after another saw its edition of "United Ireland" appear, and then,
when police and spies were hot upon its track, as mysteriously pass
away. This was, of course, a picturesque exaggeration, but it had a
considerable basis of truth. The paper was actually printed more than
once in the old office in Dublin under the noses of the police, and on
one occasion Mr. Wolohan set up a printing machine in a private house in
Derry, and, assisted by my son, actually worked off the copies of the
paper next door to the house of the resident magistrate.

Ultimately, there came the period of the "Kilmainham Treaty," and most
of the political prisoners were released. The issue of "United Ireland"
for March 11th did not appear as on previous occasions. I produced an
issue, which I sent in charge of my son to Dublin, putting it at the
disposal of Mr. O'Brien. It was not, however, published, though I
received a long and interesting letter from Mr. William O'Brien--still
in Kilmainham jail--expressing the appreciation of the Irish leaders for
the work I had done in these words:--

~We are all deeply sensible of your extraordinary energy and courage in
this matter.~

I am prevented from giving this letter, which explains the reasons for
the stoppage of the paper, as Mr. O'Brien has endorsed it "Private and
Confidential."

A few weeks later "United Ireland" appeared in its old publishing office
in Abbey Street. Mr. O'Brien was set free on April 15th, Messrs.
Parnell, Dillon and O'Kelly were released on May 2nd, and Michael Davitt
and others soon afterwards.



CHAPTER XVIII.

PATRICK EGAN.


It will be seen that when "United Ireland" was "on the shaughraun"
during the time that William O'Brien was in prison, though he was able
to send communications out regularly, the direction very largely
devolved upon Patrick Egan, who had taken up his quarters in Paris for
that and other purposes of the Land League. I may say that I have been
in frequent communication with Mr. Egan ever since, and it is but
recently that I got a letter from him touching upon this matter. In
making some valuable suggestions as to the contents of this book, he
says, "There just occurs to me as I write, a point that you might
introduce as an added feature, namely--all the leading articles that
appeared in 'U.I.' during those fateful months (or almost all of them)
were written by William O'Brien _in Kilmainham Prison, smuggled out by
the underground railroad, which ran upon regular scheduled time_, and
were despatched by trusty messengers to me in Paris, which messengers
brought back on their return journey the matrices to which you refer for
the next issue of 'United Ireland.'

"There were four messengers, in order to avoid attracting attention--two
of them the Misses Stritch, whose father had been a resident magistrate
in Ireland. They were fine patriotic girls, and active members of Miss
Anna Parnell's Ladies' Land League. Both are now dead."

After a time Patrick Egan returned from Paris to Ireland, calling upon
me in Liverpool on his way home.

On more than one occasion he has visited me at my home in Liverpool. It
was always with sincere pleasure that I saw the alert figure, the keen
yet smiling eyes, the trim moustache and beard, which were the first
impressions one got of his personality. His unvarying suavity and
politeness might have deceived a casual observer into supposing that he
was not a man of abnormal strength of character; they were only the
silken glove to conceal the hand of iron. Emphatically a man of
determination and practical common sense, he united to these qualities a
remarkable degree of tact. In addition to much routine matter, which
need not be specified here, although grave enough at the time, our
meetings were concerned with important work in which we were engaged,
as, for instance, the O'Connell Centenary, the political prisoners, and
combating the measures being taken to swell the tide of emigration from
Ireland.

In dealing with the eventful career of Patrick Egan may I be allowed to
go both backward and forward in my dates, in order to bring the story of
his life into, as far as possible, one consecutive narrative.

Born in County Longford, he was brought to Dublin by his parents when
quite young. His shrewd business qualities enabled him to make his mark
early in life, and his fine administrative abilities admirably fitted
him for the post he attained as managing director to the most extensive
flour milling company in Ireland.

He has always been a practical patriot, always ready to work for Ireland
by every honourable means that came to his hand, whether the means were
those of moral or physical force. Consequently, he was an active worker
in the ranks of the Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood from the early
sixties. He was one of the founders of the Amnesty Movement for the
release of the political prisoners of '65 and '67.

When the Home Rule movement was started in Ireland he entered into it
heartily, and was elected a member of the Council. He enjoyed the
confidence of Butt, John Martin, Justin McCarthy, and all the other
leaders of the movement, besides being trusted by Nationalists of all
shades of opinion. Like most of us, without abating in the least his
love and esteem for Isaac Butt, he soon recognised the coming leader in
Charles Stewart Parnell, who used to refer to him in private
conversation as his "political godfather" on account of the prominent
part he had played in securing his first election to Parliament for the
County Meath, in succession to John Martin.

During the early part of the Land League agitation he was three times
nominated, for King's County, Meath, and Tipperary, for Parliament, but
he refused election, on the ground of being an advanced Nationalist. I
have more than once talked this matter over with Pat Egan, and, as I may
say in everything else, we were in complete accord; we neither of us
could bring ourselves to swear allegiance to what we considered a
foreign power. At the same time, as practical patriots, we helped every
movement, inside the constitution as well as outside of it, calculated
to benefit Ireland.

When the Land League movement was started in 1879, Egan became at once
one of the most prominent figures in it, and, besides acting as Trustee
along with Joseph Biggar and William H. O'Sullivan, he was Honorary
Treasurer.

In the famous trial of the Land League Executive, in 1880-1881, he and
Mr. Parnell and eleven others were prosecuted, the jury being ten to two
for acquittal.

In February, 1881, when coercion was so rampant in Ireland, he left his
business in the sole charge of his partner, James Rourke, and went to
Paris, by desire of Parnell, Dillon and the other leaders, to keep the
League Funds out of the hands of the enemy. While he was there I was
brought into close relations with him in my endeavours, as I have
already described in this narrative, to carry out the honourable part
allotted to me by our leaders of keeping "United Ireland" in circulation
in every corner of the land, notwithstanding the watchfulness of the
entire British garrison.

In October, 1882, a National Convention passed a unanimous vote,
thanking him for his distinguished services and sacrifices as Treasurer
of the League, he having given gratuitously to the Cause three entire
years of his life, something like a million and a quarter of dollars
having passed through his hands during that time. These and many other
circumstances that came to my knowledge abundantly prove that no man has
more deserved the confidence and gratitude of the Irish race.

In February, 1883, Michael Davitt tells us "In order to avoid the
machinations of agents in the pay of Dublin Castle, he left Ireland."

I don't know if I shall ever meet my friend again, and for that reason I
shall always remember, as I am sure he will, our last meeting in
Liverpool on his return from Paris, when we fought our battles with the
forces of the Government over again, and had many a hearty laugh at some
of the humorous episodes that cropped up in connection with it. Neither
of us then thought that, before long, he would have to leave his home
again for another period of exile.

Up to this point I can include the chief incidents in Patrick Egan's
career, either directly or indirectly, in my own personal recollections.
In order not to break the continuity of this sketch of a noble life, I
will briefly speak of his career in America. It will be found,
therefore, that in some particulars I have had to anticipate the
ordinary course of this narrative.

On arriving in America in 1883, he settled in Nebraska, where he soon
established a large and prosperous business in grain.

In 1884, at a Convention in Faneuil Hall, Boston, surrounded by some of
the most distinguished of our race in America, he was presented with a
service of plate sent from Ireland, with a beautifully illuminated
address, paying tribute to the magnificent services he had given to his
country, and signed by three hundred of the national leaders in Ireland,
including the Lord Mayor of Dublin (Charles Dawson), Parnell, Davitt,
Dillon, Biggar. Justin McCarthy, Healy, William O'Brien, Sexton,
Harrington and others.

From 1884 to 1886 he was President of the Irish National League of
America, during which time 360,000 dollars were collected and sent to
Ireland. The salary of the President of the League was 3,000 dollars a
year. At the end of his term Patrick Egan returned to his successor in
the office 6,000 dollars as his personal contribution to the Fund.

His career in America has been no less honourable than his services to
the Irish Cause on this side of the Atlantic. Irishmen everywhere felt
proud when he was sent to represent the great American Republic as
Ambassador to Chili. They took it not only as an honour to the man
himself, but to his nationality. We who knew him best followed with
confidence his record during the four years of storm and stress in
Chili, the most troublous, perhaps, that country had ever seen.

That our confidence in him was not misplaced was proved by the tribute
of admiration paid him by President Harrison in his message to Congress
in December, 1891, for the splendid manner in which he had protected
the important interests confided to his care, and for his defence of the
honour of the flag of the United States, and the rights and dignity of
American citizenship.

All this was endorsed in the most emphatic manner by the leading
statesmen and naval and military commanders of America, including
Secretary of State James G. Blaine, Rear Admiral Evans, Admiral Brown,
Rear-Admiral McCann, and numerous other officers of the army and navy.

The strongest eulogies of Mr. Egan's conduct of the Chilian legation
were written by the ex-President of the United States, Theodore
Roosevelt, who, in 1892, gave a dinner at his home in Washington, D.C.,
in his honour. In a public letter Mr. Roosevelt said, "Minister Egan has
acted as an American representative in a way that proves that he
deserves well of all Americans, and I earnestly hope that his career in
our diplomatic service may be long, and that in it he may rise to the
highest positions."

When I started a new series of my "Irish Library" in January, 1902, I
received words of encouragement from John Redmond, from Michael Davitt,
and from other distinguished Irishmen, but there was none I valued more
highly than the letter of appreciation of my works from Pat Egan. Of
these he asked me to send him a set, including my "Irish in Britain."

In a letter he sent me in the May following, I could see the yearning of
the exile for news from the "old sod" when he said "Write me a line to
say how you are, and how goes the good old cause. I often think with
much interest of the last time I had the pleasure of seeing you in
Liverpool."

I have made my references to Patrick Egan somewhat lengthy, perhaps, but
it is because in no work that I have ever seen has an adequate tribute
been paid to his services to Ireland. Unlike other men who are better
known, he was little seen and not much heard of in the Land League
movement, but his influence in shaping the movement was second only to
that of Davitt. He was eminently the practical patriot, and his motto
was "deeds not words." If she had had in the past many men like Egan,
Ireland would be both free and prosperous to-day.



CHAPTER XIX.

GENERAL ELECTION OF 1885--PARNELL A CANDIDATE FOR EXCHANGE
DIVISION--RETIRES IN FAVOUR OF O'SHEA--T.P. O'CONNOR ELECTED FOR
SCOTLAND DIVISION OF LIVERPOOL.


The Franchise and Re-Distribution Acts of 1884 and 1885, besides
placing, for the first time, the Parliamentary representation in the
hands of the great bulk of the people of Ireland, added greatly to our
political power in England, Scotland and Wales. Many thousands of Irish
householders obtained votes where formerly, under the restricted
franchise, such a thing as an Irish county voter was extremely rare.

At the General Election of 1885, Mr. Parnell made Liverpool his
headquarters. The Re-Distribution Act had given Liverpool nine
Parliamentary Divisions, in one of which (Scotland Division) we had
sufficient votes to return a Nationalist. As Mr. T.P. O'Connor was the
candidate chosen, and was, besides, the President of the organisation in
Great Britain, he, also, was on the spot.

A central committee room was engaged in the North-Western Hotel, where
Mr. Parnell and Mr. T.P. O'Connor were staying. I was detailed to act as
secretary to them, and, as the electoral campaign all over the country
was directed from this centre, I was kept busy from early morning until
late in the night answering the letters which poured in from all parts
of the country. Mr. T.P. O'Connor having recently been married, Mrs.
O'Connor also was staying in the North-Western. She presided at our
luncheon every day, and made a charming hostess.

I have some pleasant remembrances of those days in Liverpool, when I was
assisting Mr. Parnell in carrying on the electoral campaign. One day, as
we stood together looking out of the window across Lime Street, he
pointed to the hotel on the opposite side of the street, reminding me
that it was there we first met. This was when he came amongst us, a
promising young recruit, under the wing of Isaac Butt. I remembered it
well, and the number of questions he asked me about the condition of our
people, social and political, in this country, for he knew that I had
had opportunities of acquiring a closer knowledge of them than most
people. He often afterwards sought from me such information. To me, from
first to last, he was always most open and friendly, and I never found
him so "stand-off" and unapproachable as was the very common opinion
about him.

In the Exchange Division of Liverpool, a Mr. Stephens, the official
Liberal candidate, had, for some reason, been replaced by Captain
O'Shea, who got the full support of the Liberal party. Following
instructions from headquarters, the Irish Nationalists had denounced the
candidate of the Liberals, who, when recently in power, had coerced
Ireland, and O'Shea was condemned more unmercifully than any of them, as
being, besides, a renegade Irishman.

When Parnell himself came on the scene as a candidate for Exchange
Division, Captain O'Shea was denounced more fiercely than ever. Mr.
Parnell, however, withdrew on the nomination day, and at a great meeting
on the same night, much to the astonishment of all, asked, in a very
halting and hesitating manner, that O'Shea's candidature should be
supported. So great was his power and prestige at the time that,
whatever apprehension might be felt, no attempt was made to question his
action.

On the morning of the election I went to the North-Western. Mr. O'Connor
was somewhat late in getting to work. Parnell, noticing, I suppose, that
I seemed uneasy about something, asked, "What's amiss with you, Denvir?"
"We would like to see Mr. O'Connor on the ground in Scotland Division,"
I said. He shook his head: "Ah, that's the way with him since he got
married." I smiled and observed "We'll be losing you that way some
time." "No," he replied, as I thought somewhat sadly, "I lost my chance
long ago."

All that day Parnell worked with desperate energy for O'Shea. He even
took some of our men from Scotland Division to help in Exchange. I
expostulated with him, saying, "You'll be losing T.P.'s election for
us." As a matter of fact, we won Scotland Division by 1,350 votes.

In point of fact, if O'Shea had got the whole Irish vote he would have
won, but Mr. Parnell's vehement efforts could kindle no enthusiasm among
the Irish electors, and there was a small but determined section
which--while unwilling to let any public evidence of disagreement with
Mr. Parnell appear--absolutely refused to support O'Shea. This lost him
the seat.

There was great jubilation in the League Hall that night at the winning
of a seat in England by an Irish Home Ruler, elected _as such_, Mr. T.P.
O'Connor having been returned that day for the Scotland Division of
Liverpool.

Since that time there have been several Home Rulers, Irish by birth or
descent, returned to Parliament for English constituencies. These belong
to the Labour Party.

Besides T.P. O'Connor, Liverpool has provided for Parliament quite a
number of men who at one time or another have represented or still
represent Irish constituencies. These are Dr. Commins, Daniel Crilly,
Lawrence Connolly, Michael Conway, Joseph Nolan, Patrick O'Brien,
William O'Malley, James Lysaght Finigan, and Garrett Byrne.

At the League Hall demonstration on the night of the election, Mr.
Parnell appeared to have caught the high spirit and enthusiasm of his
audience, and in a more powerful address than I had ever before heard
from him, he said:--

     Ireland has been knocking at the English door long enough with kid
     gloves. I tell the English people to beware, and be wise in time.
     Ireland will soon throw off the kid gloves, and she will knock with
     a mailed hand.

In this General Election, the Irish vote of Great Britain, in
accordance with the League manifesto, generally went for the Tories, who
came into office, but with a majority so small that they were turned out
at the opening of the Session of 1886, and Mr. Gladstone again came into
power. Seeing that 85 out of the 103 Irish members of Parliament had
been returned pledged to National self-government, he came to the
conclusion to drop coercion, and no longer to attempt to rule the
country against the wishes of the people. He, therefore, introduced his
Home Rule Bill on the 8th of April, 1886, but, failing to carry the
whole of his party with him, he was defeated on the second reading by 30
votes. His defeat at the polls at the General Election which followed
seemed even more crushing than his defeat in Parliament, for, of the
members elected, there was a majority against him of 118.

Mr. Gladstone, looking more closely into the figures of the General
Election, was not disheartened, and as the British public became
educated on the Irish question, bye-election after bye-election proved
triumphantly the truth of his famous saying that the "Flowing Tide" was
carrying the cause of Home Rule on to victory.

Nor were _we_ disheartened, for, counting up the whole of about two and
a half millions of votes given, we found that the Unionists, as the
Tories and Dissentient Liberals called themselves, had a majority of
less than 80,000 votes at the polls. During this time I had become
general organiser of the recognised Irish political organisation of
Great Britain, and upon me chiefly devolved the duty of directing the
work of registration of our Irish voters. A close study of the local
conditions in the various constituencies showed that the mere bringing
up of the neglected Irish vote to something approaching its proper
strength would _alone_ be sufficient to effect the necessary gain. We
threw ourselves into the task--and we succeeded.

I shall always remember with pride my share in increasing and organising
the Irish vote throughout Great Britain, and its result in bringing Mr.
Gladstone back to power, and enabling him to carry the Home Rule Bill
through the House of Commons.

It was my duty to visit every part of Great Britain to see that the
various districts and branches were kept in a high state of efficiency,
and at the end of that period of hard and unremitting work from 1886 to
1892 I was able to show our Executive from the books and figures in our
possession that we had accomplished our aim.



CHAPTER XX.

GLADSTONE'S "FLOWING TIDE."


I was present at most of the bye-elections that led up to Gladstone's
great victory at the General Election of 1892.

In this way I was brought to many places interesting to us as Catholics
as well as Irishmen.

No spot in Great Britain is more sacred to us than Iona, an island off
the West coast of Scotland, which our great typical Irish saint,
Columba, made his home and centre when bringing the light of faith to
those regions. It will, therefore, be one of the memories of my life
most dear to me that I had the blessing of taking part in the famous
Pilgrimage to Iona on June 13th, 1888. The town of Oban, on the mainland
of Scotland, is generally made the point of departure for Iona, which is
not far off.

Oban is one of the five Ayr burghs which, combined, send a member to
Parliament, and it was singular that, at this time, there was a
bye-election going on. As creed and country have always gone together
with me, I did not think it at all inappropriate that I should do a
little work for Irish self-government while on this Pilgrimage. On the
contrary. Was not St. Columba himself a champion of Home Rule, for was
it not through his eloquent advocacy of their cause before the great
Irish National Assembly that the Scots of Alba, as distinguished from
the Scots of Erin, obtained the right of self-government?

One of the best numbers of my Irish Library was the "Life of St.
Columbkille," written for me by Michael O'Mahony, one of a band of young
Irishmen, members of the Irish Literary Institute of Liverpool, who did
splendid service for the Cause in that city. Michael was, of these,
perhaps the one possessing the most characteristic Irish gifts. He has
written some admirable stories of Irish life, and is a poet, although he
has not written as much as I would like to see from his pen.

There are no Irish residents in Iona itself, but I found a few in Oban,
on whom I called to secure their votes for Home Rule.

To hear Mass on the spot made sacred by the feet of our great Irish
saint, in the building, then a ruin, erected by his successors to
replace that which he himself had raised here as a centre of his great
missionary labours, was an experience to treasure until one's latest
day. What made the celebration the more memorable was the sermon in
Gaelic by Bishop MacDonald of Argyll and the Isles. I had the pleasure,
after Mass, of having dinner with him, and some most interesting
conversation.

I told him I had read with great interest a pastoral of his, issued some
five years before, in which he said that an interesting peculiarity of
his diocese, in respect of which it stood almost alone in the country,
was that its Catholicity was almost exclusively represented by districts
which had always clung to the faith, places where in the Penal days no
priest dared show himself in public, but visited the Catholic centres in
turn as a layman by night and gathered the children together to instruct
them as far as he was able. This was, he said, of extraordinary interest
on a day like that, when we were specially honouring the memory of the
great saint who had sown the seeds which had continued to bear fruit
through so many centuries. We also spoke of the singular fact that he
had that day preached on the spot on which St. Columba himself had
stood, and in the same language that he spoke, a language which had been
in existence long before the present English tongue was spoken. As
showing that the Scottish and Irish Gaelic were practically the same, as
distinguished from the Celtic tongue spoken by the Welsh and Bretons,
Bishop MacDonald told me he could read quite easily a book printed in
the Irish characters.

As a bye-election brought me to the sacred scene of the labours of our
great Irish saint, Columba, so did another bye-election bring me to the
spot where a martyr for Ireland suffered in 1798--Father O'Coigly. There
was a bye-election at Maidstone, where the martyr priest had been tried
for treason, and near it is Pennenden Heath, where he was executed, so
that both places will for ever be held sacred by patriotic Irishmen.
Besides securing a pledge for Home Rule from one of the candidates, and
organising the small Irish vote in his favour, I took the opportunity of
inaugurating a movement for the erection of a memorial to Father
O'Coigly. With the co-operation of the London branches of the United
Irish League the movement was brought to a successful issue. On two
succeeding years there were Pilgrimages to the spot where Father
O'Coigly was executed, at which Mr. James Francis Xavier O'Brien, who
himself had been sentenced to be hanged, drawn and quartered, was the
chief speaker one year, and Mr. John Murphy, M.P., on the other.

Besides this, chiefly through the exertions of Mr. John Brady, District
Organiser, funds were raised, and there have been erected in the
Catholic Church at Maidstone a Celtic Cross and three beautiful
stained-glass windows, of Irish manufacture, to commemorate the
martyrdom of Father O'Coigly.

A gratifying thing in connection with our Pilgrimage was, I reminded
those I addressed on Pennenden Heath, that a man pledged to support
self-government for Ireland, the Cause for which Father O'Coigly had
suffered, had been elected to Parliament for Maidstone.

In the bye-elections about this time, we often got the most satisfactory
results from places where the Irish vote was but small. I have before my
mind the Carnarvon Boroughs bye election of 1890. Here the seat had been
held by a Tory, and the Irish vote in the five towns, all told, was not
much more than 50. I was sent to the constituency by our Executive to
use every exertion to get our people to poll for David Lloyd-George, a
thorough-going Home Ruler, at that time an unknown man, though he has
since risen to the first political and ministerial rank. It was then I
made his acquaintance, and time has only increased the friendly feeling
between us.

Our meeting happened rather curiously. While on my round I came across
an unpretentious-looking young man who, I discovered, was also working
on the same side. We had chatted together for some time when I happened
to make some reference to the candidate. "Oh," he said, with a laugh, "I
am the candidate." It was Mr. Lloyd-George. We worked together with all
the more ardour being brother Celts. I frequently expressed to him my
admiration for a striking feature in their great meetings during the
election campaign. This was the singing in their native tongue of songs
calculated to rouse the enthusiasm of an emotional people like the
Welsh, the climax being reached at the end of each meeting with their
noble national anthem, sung in the native tongue of course, "Land of my
Fathers."

Since that time it is gratifying to realize the great progress which has
been made in the revival of _our_ native tongue through the
instrumentality of the Gaelic League. The success of our friends in this
direction ought to be an encouragement to us. The old Cymric tongue is
almost universal throughout Wales, side by side with the English, so
that it is not all visionary to think that a day may come when ours,
too, may become a bi-lingual people.

Mr. Edmund Vesey Knox, an Ulster Protestant Home Ruler, who was then a
member of the Irish Parliamentary Party, came to assist in the return of
Mr. Lloyd-George. At one of their great gatherings he told his audience
how much he was impressed by the enthusiasm created by their native
music and song. This reminded him, he said, that one of their great
Irish poets, Thomas Davis, was partially of Welsh descent, which no
doubt inspired one of his noblest songs "Cymric Rule and Cymric Rulers,"
written to their soul-stirring Welsh air, "The March of the Men of
Harlech." After Mr. Knox, more singing, and then came a delightful
address from a distinguished Irish lady, Mrs. Bryant, who did splendid
service at many of these bye elections. Doctor Sophie Bryant, to give
her full title, is a lady of great learning and eloquence, and not only
a thorough Nationalist in sentiment, but an energetic worker in the
Cause. A literary lady colleague thus sums up her chief qualities: "She
is more learned than any man I know; more tender than any woman I have
ever met."

Mr. Lloyd-George was elected by the bare majority of 18 votes, so that
without the small Irish vote in the Carnarvon Boroughs he could not have
been returned at his first election for the constituency. Nor did he
forget the fact. On one occasion we were speaking together in the lobby
of the House of Commons when a friend of his came up. "This," said Mr.
Lloyd-George, slapping me on the shoulder, "is the man who brought me
here." In a sense it was true, so that I might claim to have assisted in
making a British Chancellor of the Exchequer.

I have spoken of the series of bye-elections which Mr. Gladstone
described as the "Flowing Tide" which had set in for Home Rule. I
remember with special pleasure one of these--that for the Rossendale
Division of Lancashire. It was a sample of all the other bye-elections
in 1892. The registration had been well done, and we knew to a man the
strength of the Irish vote. We had 438 on the Register. This was no mere
estimate, and we could give the figures at the time with equal accuracy
for most places where we had an Irish population. Every voter of ours
living in Rossendale had been visited. If he had removed from place to
place inside the district it was noted. If he had gone out of the
district he was communicated with, if possible through the medium of the
branch of his new location. We knew where to find them all, and it was
astonishing from what distant places men turned up to vote on the
election day, through the agency of the local branches of the places to
which the voters had gone.

In this Rossendale election I had two of the most capable lieutenants a
man need wish to have, Patrick Murphy and Daniel Boyle, both then
organisers of our League. Dan Boyle (now Alderman Boyle, M.P.) took the
Bacup end of the Division; Pat Murphy took Rawtenstall; and I made my
headquarters at Haslingden, for I had a _grah_ for the place, on
account of its connection with my old friend, Michael Davitt.

There can be no better test of a man's sterling qualities than the
opinions held of him by the friends of his youth. Several times I had
had occasion to visit Haslingden, the little factory town in North-East
Lancashire, where Martin Davitt, the father of Michael, and his family
lived when they came to this country after being evicted from their home
in Mayo. Here I met Mr. Cockcroft, the bookseller, who gave Michael
employment after he had lost his arm in the factory, and he and his
family bore the Irish lad in kindly remembrance. But it was among his
own people--those who had been the companions and friends of his
youth--that I found the greatest admiration for "Mick," as they
familiarly called him. I need scarcely say that they watched with pride
the noble career of one who had grown to manhood in their midst.

I was able to turn that feeling to good account on the occasion of this
Rossendale election. I asked the Liberal candidate, Mr. Maden, a young
and wealthy cotton spinner of Rossendale, who had given us satisfactory
pledges on Home Rule, to invite Michael Davitt's assistance. He did so.
I backed up the request by a personal appeal, which he never refused if
it lay in his power to do what I wished. He came, and words fail to
describe his loving and enthusiastic reception by his own people.

I have alluded to the perfect way in which the Irish Vote had been
organised. Michael Davitt came into our committee room one day, and it
was with intense pride he turned over the leaves of our books to show
Mr. Maden, the candidate, how well we were prepared to poll every Irish
vote on the election day. Davitt was a tower of strength to us in this
election, not only amongst our own people, but amongst the English
factory operatives, who form the majority in Rossendale. As in other
bye-elections which had preceded it, we won the Division by a handsome
majority.

I was at once amused and amazed some time ago to hear of a so-called
biography of Davitt, the keynote of which was a suggestion that he was,
first and foremost, an "Anti-Clerical." The idea is an absurd one. He
was an intense lover of right, and one who scorned to be an opportunist.
Consequently, he never hesitated to speak out, no matter who opposed
him, priest or layman. But none knew better than he that there have been
times when the priests were the only friends the Irish peasantry had;
and no one knew better than he that the influence they have had they
have, on the whole, used wisely. If individual clerics have gone out of
their proper sphere of influence it is certain they would have found
Davitt in opposition to them where he thought them wrong. I have been
placed in the same unpleasant position myself, but I too have always
carefully distinguished between the individual priest who needed
remonstrance, and his wiser colleague; and also between the legitimate
use of a priest's influence and its abuse. So that to classify Davitt as
an "Anti-cleric" deserves a strong protest from one who loved him as
well and as long as I did.

As I have said, when I asked him to come to Rossendale to help to
further the cause of self-government for Ireland, he never refused a
request of mine if it lay in his power to grant it, and, in this way, he
wrote for me one of the books of my "Irish Library"--"Ireland's Appeal
to America."

Michael has gone to his reward, and there are two things I shall always
cherish as mementoes of him. One is a bunch of shamrocks sent to me,
with the message:

                          "With Michael Davitt's compliments,
                           "Richmond Prison, Patrickstide, 1883"

The other is his last letter to me, written not long before his death.
It was dated "St. Justin's, Dalkey, Co. Dublin, 7th March, 1906." In
this he said: "I hope you are in good health and not growing too old. I
shall be 60! on the 25th inst.!!!" Was this a premonition that his end
was near? He died on May 31st, within three months of the time he wrote
the letter.

I have spoken of the necessity for our organisation doing registration
work at least as effectually as the Liberals and Tories do. It is not
always men of the highest intellectual attainments who make the best
registration agents. This fact came home to me very forcibly when
reading a biography of Thomas Davis. It was stated that in the Revision
Court he was not able to hold his own against the Tory agent. It is just
what I would have imagined, considering the sensitive nature of Davis.
A man with a face of brass, who _might_ be an able man, but who, on the
other hand, might be some low ignorant fellow, might easily do better
than Thomas Davis with his fine intellect and varied learning.

At the same time, I have known men of the highest attainments who have
made excellent agents, such a man as John Renwick Seager, who has for
many years been connected with the London Liberal organisation. Just
such another we have in our own ranks in Daniel Crilly who, before he
became a journalist or entered Parliament, was a very successful agent
in the Liverpool Courts.

One of the most efficient and conscientious of registration and
electioneering agents I ever met was John Mogan, of Liverpool. Besides
the annual registration work he was engaged on our side in nearly every
election of importance in Liverpool for over 30 years. He was so
engrossed in his work that, during an election he would, if required,
sit up several nights in succession to have his work properly done;
indeed, I was often tempted to think that John never considered any
election complete without at least _one_ "all night sitting."

We believed in fighting the enemy with his own weapons. On election days
in Liverpool there were shipowners who made it a practice of getting
their vessels coaled in the river. As, unlike the Liffey at Dublin or
the Thames at London, the Mersey at Liverpool is over a mile wide, and
as most of the coal heavers were Irishmen, this move of the shipowners
was to keep our men from voting. We were successful, to some extent, in
counteracting this, for owing to the patriotism of a sterling Irishman,
John Prendiville, the steam tugs which he owned were often used, on the
day of an election, to take our men ashore.

Sometimes the Revision Courts gave us the opportunity of teaching a
little Irish history. In South Wales most of our people hail from
Munster. In one of the Courts there was the case of Owen O'Donovan being
objected to, on the ground that he had left the qualifying property, and
that _Eugene_ O'Donovan was now the occupier. I explained to the
Barrister that in the South of Ireland the names of Owen and Eugene were
often applied to the same man, Eugene being the Latinized form of Owen.
I gave as an illustration our national hero, Owen Roe O'Neill, who, in
letters written to him in Latin, was styled Eugenius Rufus. A Welsh
official in Court suggested that O'Donovan was anxious to become a
Welshman by calling himself Owen. I replied that the name Owen was just
as Irish as it was Welsh, coming no doubt from the same Celtic stock,
and that, as a matter of fact, our man preferred being on the Register
as Owen. The Barrister, being satisfied that both names applied to the
same man, allowed the vote, and our voter would appear on the Register
as Owen O'Donovan.

In looking up our people to have them put upon the Register, or in
connection with an election, our canvassers are often able to form a
good judgment of the creed, or nationality, or politics of the people
of the house they are calling at by the pictures on the walls. If they
see a picture of St. Patrick, or the Pope, or Robert Emmet, they assume
they are in an Irish house of the right sort. One of my own apprentices,
when I was in business, came across a bewildering complication on one
occasion, for on one side of the room was the Pope, which seemed all
right, but facing him was a gorgeous picture of King William crossing
the Boyne. It was the woman of the house he saw, a good, decent
Irishwoman and a Catholic, who explained the apparent inconsistency. Her
husband was an Orangeman, "as good a man as ever broke bread" all the
year round, till it came near the twelfth of July, when the Orange fever
began to come on. (Our people at home in the County Down, as my father
used to tell us, often found it so with otherwise decent Protestant
neighbours.) He would come home from a lodge meeting some night, a
little the worse for drink, and smash the Pope to smithereens. The wife
was a sensible body, and knew it was no use interfering while the fit
was on him. When she knew it had safely passed away, she would take King
William to the pawnshop round the corner and get as much on him as would
buy a new Pope. He was too fond of his wife, "Papish" and all as she
was, to make any fuss about it, and would just go and redeem his idol,
and set him up again, facing the Pope, for another twelve months at all
events.



CHAPTER XXI.

THE "TIMES" FORGERIES COMMISSION.


When the "Times" on the 18th of April, 1887 published what purported to
be the _fac simile_ of a letter from Mr. Parnell, and suggested that it
was written to Mr. Patrick Egan in justification of the Phoenix Park
assassinations, I at once, like many others, guessed who the forger must
be. I had from time to time come into contact with Pigott, and I was
satisfied that he was the one man capable of such a production.

When the company was formed in 1875 for the starting of a newspaper in
connection with the Home Rule Confederation of Great Britain, there was
an idea of buying Pigott's papers, "The Irishman," "Flag of Ireland,"
and "Shamrock," which always seemed to be in the market, whether to the
Government or the Nationalists after events showed to be a matter of
perfect indifference to him. Mr. John Barry and I were sent over to
Dublin to treat with him. Mr. Barry went over the books and I went over
the plant. What he wanted seemed reasonable enough, we thought.

The Directors of our Company did not, however, close with Pigott, but
concluded to start a paper of their own, "The United Irishman," the
production and direction of which, as I have stated, they placed in my
hands.

During these years I had many opportunities of getting a knowledge of
Pigott's true character. From time to time money had been subscribed
through Pigott's papers for various national funds. Michael Davitt told
me that when the political prisoners were released the committee
appointed to raise a fund for them, to give them a start in life,
applied for what had been sent through the "Irishman" and "Flag," that
the whole of the funds subscribed through the various channels might be
publicly presented to the men. There was considerable difficulty in
getting this money from Pigott, but ultimately it was squeezed out of
him.

An employe of the "Irishman," David Murphy, was shot--he survived his
wound--in a mysterious manner. This was ascribed, and from all we know
of the man, correctly, to Pigott, who, it was thought, fearing that
Murphy might know too much about the sums coming into his hands and the
sources whence they came, had tried to get him put out of the way. There
was a still more serious aspect of this attempted assassination. The
revelations of the "Times" Forgeries Commission afterwards proved that
all this time Pigott was giving information to the police and getting
paid for it. To my own personal knowledge David Murphy held an important
position in the advanced organisation, for I once brought a young friend
of mine, a printer, a sterling Irishman I had known from his early
boyhood in Liverpool, from Wexford, where he was at the time employed,
specially to introduce him to Murphy.

From the information given to the police by Pigott, it would soon be
found there was some leakage, which would, no doubt, be traced to the
"Irishman" office. It would, of course, be Pigott's cue to put the blame
on the shoulders of Murphy, hence probably his attempted assassination.

It was not unreasonable, then, in looking round for the actual forger of
the famous _fac simile_ letter, that I and others who knew him should
single out a man with such a bad record as Richard Pigott as the actual
criminal.

The collapse of the conspiracy against the Irish leaders, and the
suicide of the wretched Pigott on the 1st of March, 1889, are matters of
history.

For the complete way in which the conspiracy was smashed up great credit
was due to the distinguished Irish advocate, Sir Charles Russell. In his
early days I knew him well, and was often thrown into contact with him,
when he was a young barrister practising on the Northern circuit, and
making Liverpool his headquarters. He was a member of the Liverpool
Catholic Club when I was secretary of that body. The Club, before the
Home Rule organisation superseded it in Liverpool, generally supported
the Liberals in Parliamentary elections, but on one occasion there was,
from a Catholic point of view, a very undesirable Liberal candidate,
whom it was determined not to support. Pressure had, therefore, to be
put upon the Liberals to withdraw this man. They were obstinate, though
they had not the ghost of a chance without the Irish and Catholic vote,
which formed fully half the strength they could generally count upon. On
the other hand, _we_ could not carry the seat by our own unaided vote.
But, to show the Liberals that we would not have their man under any
circumstances, it was arranged that if he were willing we should put
Charles Russell forward as our candidate. As secretary it became my duty
to ask him to place himself in our hands. He agreed, on the
understanding that he was to be withdrawn if our action had the effect
of forcing the Liberals to get a candidate more acceptable to us. We
succeeded, and, of course, withdrew our man.

When we started the Home Rule organisation in Liverpool, we asked
Charles Russell to be chairman of our inaugural public meeting. He had
been contesting Dundalk as a Home Ruler, so we thought he was the very
man to preside at our meeting, and gave that as our reason for asking
him. He received the deputation--my friend, Alfred Crilly and
myself--with that geniality and courtesy which were so characteristic of
him. As it happened that the three of us were County Down men, who are
somewhat clannish, we soon got talking about the people "at home." He
knew both our families in Ireland, and had served his time with a
solicitor of my name in Newry, Cornelius Denvir, before he had entered
the other branch of the legal profession. We also got talking of the
barony of Lecale, which he, as well as my own people, had sprung from,
and how it had been the only Norman colony in Ulster; how many of the
descendants of De Courcy's followers were still there, as might be seen
from their names--Russells, Savages, Mandevilles. Dorrians, Denvirs, and
others, whose fathers, intermarrying with the original Celtic
population, MacCartans, Magennises, MacRorys, and so on, had become like
the Burkes, Fitzgeralds, and other Norman clans, "More Irish than the
Irish themselves."

This was all very well, and very interesting, but it did not get us our
chairman. Charles Russell was too wary, and, perhaps, too far-seeing,
who can tell? for that. It was quite true, he said, he had contested
Dundalk as a Home Ruler, and, of course, he was a Home Ruler, but he
advised us to ask Dr. Commins to be our chairman, as being so much
better known than himself. We did ask "The Doctor," and, kindly and
genial as we ever found him, he at once consented.

Nearly forty years have passed since then, and I really believe that
these two, then comparatively young men, practically made choice of
their respective after-careers on that occasion.

Dr. Commins, who, like Charles Russell, was a practising barrister on
the Northern circuit, held for some years the highest position his
fellow-countrymen could give him as President of the Home Rule
Confederation of Great Britain, and became a member of the Irish
Parliamentary Party.

Charles Russell, though always a Home Ruler and sincere lover of his
country, made a brilliant career for himself as a great lawyer and
Liberal statesman. I have often wondered since, if he had become
chairman of our meeting in 1872, and had then identified himself with
the Home Rule movement, if his statue would be to-day as it is in the
London Law Courts, or if he would ever have been Lord Chief Justice of
England and Lord Russell of Killowen? I think not.

The "Times" Forgeries Commission, though got up to do deadly damage to
the Irish Cause, had not, even before the final collapse of the
conspiracy, had that effect, as bye-election after bye-election proved.
For instance, when the Commission appointed to deal with the "Times"
charges against the Irish leaders re-opened, after a short vacation at
Christmas, the Govan election was going on, and, on the 19th of January,
1889, the Liberal Home Ruler won the seat by a majority of over 1,000.

After the exposure of the plot, Mr. Gladstone's "Flowing Tide" swept on
with increased velocity, and, wherever there was a bye-election, there
was an enormous demand for our members of Parliament. During this
period, when the Irish vote in Great Britain was more fully organised
than it ever had been before, I attended most of these elections. It was
keenly felt, as had been proved on several occasions, that _no_ place,
however small the number of Irish voters, should be overlooked,
especially at a time when British parties had become once more pretty
evenly balanced.



CHAPTER XXII.

DISRUPTION OF THE IRISH PARTY--HOME RULE CARRIED IN THE COMMONS--UNITY
OF PARLIAMENTARY PARTY RESTORED--MR. JOHN REDMOND BECOMES LEADER.


There is nothing more bitter than a family quarrel.

The unfortunate disruption in the Irish Parliamentary Party and the
fierce quarrel that arose among the Irish people near the end of 1890,
would be to me such a painful theme that I must ask my readers to pardon
me if I pass on as quickly as possible towards the happier times which
find us practically a re-united people, while the Irish Party in
Parliament is a solid working force under the able leadership of Mr.
John Redmond.

In accordance with the demands of the branches of the Irish organisation
in Great Britain, a special Convention was called and held in
Newcastle-on-Tyne on Saturday, 16th May, 1891. Delegates from all parts
of Great Britain attended, and elected a new Executive in harmony with
the bulk of the League, with Mr. T.P. O'Connor, President, as before.

Provision was also made for carrying on the fight for Home Rule in the
constituencies, which had been somewhat relaxed by the unhappy split in
our ranks. This was imperative, in view of the necessity for assisting
to return to Parliament a sufficient majority to enable Mr. Gladstone to
carry his Home Rule Bill through the House of Commons.

The result of the General Election of 1892 was the return to power of
Mr. Gladstone. His majority was the best proof to friend and foe of the
value of the work done by our organisation during the previous years in
adding to the Irish vote in Great Britain. It also showed we had the
power and the influence in the constituencies we had claimed. Indeed,
the books in the offices of the League could show, by the figures for
every constituency, that without the Irish vote Mr. Gladstone would have
had no majority at all.

When we come to consider the terrible crisis we were passing through,
the result was magnificent.

Although, as we all expected, Mr. Gladstone's Home Rule Bill was thrown
out by the House of Lords, the fact that a Bill conferring
self-government on Ireland had been passed in the Commons was recognised
as a step towards that end which could never be receded from, and that
it was but a question of time when the Home Rule Cause would be won.

Moreover, the event proved that our grievance was no longer against the
English democracy, but against the class which misgoverned us, just as
it, to a lesser extent, misgoverned them.

Most of us have, no doubt, taken part in a family gathering on some
joyous occasion when the mother realizes that _all_ her children are
not around her, and is overcome with sadness. So it was with us. Well
might mother Ireland ask why were not _all_ her children in the one
fold, to be one with her and with each other in the hour of rejoicing,
as they had been loyally with her in all her sorrows? Why was the bitter
feud over the leadership of the Irish Party so long kept up? Why was the
happy reconciliation so long delayed?

While the majority, it is true, were arrayed on one side, the fact
remained that on the other side there were men of undoubted patriotism
and great ability, not only members of Parliament such as John and
William Redmond or Timothy Harrington, but some of our best men all over
the country, who had done splendid service for the Cause, and were
either in fierce antagonism or holding aloof.

It was during this sad time that I met that distinguished orator, Thomas
Sexton, to whom John Barry was good enough to introduce me. Sexton came
specially from Ireland on this occasion in the interests of peace.
Actuated by the same motive was Patrick James Foley, another member of
the Party and of the Executive of the League, who, while holding
strongly to his own conscientious opinions, was always most courteous to
those differing from him.

I attended the great Irish Race Convention, held in the Leinster Hall,
Dublin, on the first three days of September, 1896. The Most Reverend
Patrick O'Donnell, Bishop of Raphoe, a noble representative of old
Tyrconnell, and a tower of strength to our Cause, presided, and it was,
undoubtedly, one of the most representative gatherings of the Irish race
from all parts of the world ever held.

Two admirable resolutions were passed with great enthusiasm and perfect
unanimity, and there is no doubt but that this Convention was the first
great step towards the reunion of the Irish Parliamentary Party, which
has been since so happily effected.

It was more than three years after the Race Convention before the
long-desired re-union of the Irish Party and the Irish people all over
the world was accomplished at a Conference of members of Parliament of
both parties held in Committee Room 15 of the House of Commons, on
Tuesday, January 30th, 1900.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE GAELIC REVIVAL--THOMAS DAVIS--CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY--ANGLO-IRISH
LITERATURE--THE IRISH DRAMA--DRAMATISTS AND ACTORS.


One effect of the disturbance in political work caused by the split
seemed to be the impetus given to existing movements which, so far as
politics were concerned, were neutral ground. Chief amongst these was
the Gaelic League, which from its foundation advanced by leaps and
bounds and brought to the front many fine characters.

Francis Fahy was one of the first Presidents of the Gaelic League of
London, and there is no doubt but the Irish language movement in the
metropolis owes much to his influence and indefatigable exertions.

I first made his acquaintance over twenty-five years ago, when he was
doing such splendid Irish propagandism in the Southwark Irish Literary
Club, of which, although he had able and enthusiastic helpers, he was
the life and soul. He has written many songs and poems, which have been
collected and published. What is, perhaps, one of the raciest and most
admired of his songs, "The Quid Plaid Shawl," first appeared in the
"Nationalist" for February 7th, 1885, a weekly periodical which I was
publishing at the time. Several stirring songs of great merit by other
members of the society also appeared in its pages. Indeed, the members
came to look upon the "Nationalist" as their own special organ, and ably
written and animated accounts of their proceedings appeared regularly in
its columns. I also published a song book for them, compiled by Francis
Fahy, chiefly for the use of their younger members.

An active Gaelic Leaguer, who did much for the success of the movement
in London, was William Patrick Ryan. He wrote a "Life of Thomas Davis"
for "Denvir's Monthly," a sort of revival of my "Irish Library." This
book was very favourably received by the press. The "Liverpool Daily
Post" gave it more than a column of admirable criticism, evidently from
the pen of the editor himself, Sir Edward Russell. In it was the
following kindly reference to myself: "Our present pleasing duty is to
recognise the labours of Mr. Denvir--efforts in such a cause are always
touchingly beautiful--as an inculcator of national sentiment; to
illustrate the genuine literary interest and value of the first booklet
of his new library; and to wish the library a long and useful, and in
every way successful vogue."

Another active man in the language movement in London, whose
acquaintance I was glad to renew when I first came to the metropolis, is
Doctor Mark Ryan.

It is nearly forty years since we first knew each other in connection
with another organisation. He then lived in a North Lancashire town,
and was studying medicine, not being at that time a fully qualified
doctor. If I remember rightly, our interview had no connexion with the
healing art, indeed quite the contrary, for besides qualifying for the
medical profession, he was graduating in the same school as Rickard
Burke, Arthur Forrester, and Michael Davitt, but, like myself, was more
fortunate than Burke and Davitt, inasmuch as he escaped their fate of
being sent into penal servitude. Although Mark Ryan was for a long time
resident in Lancashire, he there lost nothing, nor has he since, of the
fluent Gaelic speech of his native Galway, for I heard him quite
recently delivering an eloquent speech in Irish at a gathering of the
Gaelic League.

Speaking of Dr. Mark Ryan reminds me of how often I have noticed in my
travels through Great Britain, what a number of Irish doctors there are,
and also that they are almost invariably patriotic. They are of great
service to the cause, for it frequently happens that, in some districts,
they are almost the only men of culture, and are not generally slow to
take the lead among their humbler fellow-countrymen.

One of the finest Irish scholars in the Gaelic League was Mr. Thomas
Flannery. He, too, was a valued contributor to my "Monthly Irish
Library," two of the best books in the series, "Dr. John O'Donovan," and
"Archbishop MacHale," being from his pen. In fact, he and Timothy
MacSweeny I might almost look upon as having been the Gaelic editors of
the "Monthly."

I once, when in business in Liverpool, printed a Scottish Gaelic
Prayer-Book for Father Campbell, one of the Jesuit priests of that city,
for use among the Catholic congregations in the highlands and islands of
Scotland. John Rogers, like Timothy MacSweeny, a ripe Irish scholar,
called on me while it was in progress, and was delighted to know that
such a book was being issued. To Mr. MacSweeny I also sent a copy, and
they both could read the Scottish Gaelic easily, showing, of course, how
closely the Irish and Scottish Gaels were, with the Manx, united in one
branch of the Celtic race, as distinguished from the Bretons and Welsh.

I have always had an intense admiration for the poetry of "Young
Ireland." I used to call it Irish literature until I found myself
corrected, very properly, by my Gaelic League friends, who maintained
that, not being in the Irish tongue, its proper designation was
Anglo-Irish literature.

I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of one of the leading
young Irelanders, Charles Gavan Duffy, after his return to this country,
when he assisted at the inauguration of our London Irish Literary
Society, which has been a credit to the Irishmen of the metropolis. Much
of the success of the Society is due to Alfred Perceval Graves, author
of the well-known song "Father O'Flynn," a faithful picture of a genuine
Irish _soggarth_. Among others of the members of the society who have
made their mark in Irish literature is Mr. Richard Barry O'Brien, the
President, the author of several valuable works of history and
biography.

It was at the opening of our Literary Society that I first met Duffy in
the flesh, but I had known and admired him in spirit from my earliest
boyhood. I was greatly pleased when he told me he had been much
interested in my publications, not only those issued more recently, but
those of many years before. I afterwards had a letter from him in
reference to my "Irish in Britain," in which he said: "I saw long ago
some of the little Irish books you published in Liverpool, and know you
for an old and zealous worker in the national seed field."

His son, George Gavan Duffy, is a solicitor, practising in London, and
an active worker in the national cause. His wife is a daughter of the
late A.M. Sullivan, and is as zealous a Nationalist as was her father,
and as patriotic as her husband.

The first book of National poetry I ever read was one compiled by
Charles Gavan Duffy--"The Ballad Poetry of Ireland." I should say that
this has been one of the most popular books ever issued. There are none
of his own songs in this volume. The few he did write are in the "Spirit
of the Nation" and other collections. These make us regret he did not
write more, for, in the whole range of our poetry, I think there is
nothing finer or more soul-stirring than his "Inishowen," "The Irish
Rapparees," and "The Men of the North."

It is unfortunate that we have nothing from the pen of Thomas Davis on
the subject of the Irish drama and dramatists, for among the most
delightful and valuable contributions to the Anglo-Irish literature of
the nineteenth century were his "Literary and Historical Essays."

For students, historians, journalists, lecturers, and public speakers,
they have been an inexhaustible mine, since they first appeared week by
week in the "Nation" during the Repeal and Young Ireland movements. As
sources of inspiration they have been of still more practical value to
the Irish poet, painter, musician and sculptor.

Though he was apparently in good health up to a few days of his death,
which was quite unexpected, Davis, in giving to his country these
unsurpassed essays, might have had some idea that his life would not be
a long one, and that, if he could not himself accomplish all he had
projected, he would at least sketch out a programme for his brother
workers in the national field, and for those coming after them.

A glance at the contents of Davis's Essays will show how fully he has
covered almost every field in which Irishmen are or ought to be
interested. We have Irish History, Antiquities, Monuments, Architecture,
Ethnology, Oratory, Resources, Topography, Commerce, Art, Language, Our
People of all classes, Music and Poetry dealt with in an attractive as
well as in a practical manner. Anyone who has ever gone to these Essays,
as I have over and over again, for information, has always found Davis
completely master of every subject that he touched. His "Hints to Irish
Painters" are illustrations of the value of the advice he gives in
connection with his varied themes. Those of the generations since his
time who have profited by his teaching know best how valuable would have
been his views in connection with the Irish Drama.

Knowing as we do how _thorough_ Davis was in everything he took up, the
reason he did not deal with it was, probably, that he had not had the
same opportunities of getting information on this as upon the other
wonderfully varied subjects in his Essays.

I have in my mind at this moment one Irish dramatist, Edmond O'Rourke,
who would have appreciated anything Davis would have written on the
subject, and would certainly have profited by it.

O'Rourke, better known by his stage name of Falconer, was an actor as
well as a dramatist. He was "leading man" when I first saw him in the
stock company of the Adelphi Theatre, Liverpool, and used to play the
whole round of Shakespearean characters, his favourite parts being the
popular ones of Macbeth, Hamlet, and Richard the Third. He was a
dark-complexioned man of average height, somewhat spare in form and
features. Though his performances were intellectual creations, we boys
used to make somewhat unfavourable comparisons between him and Barry
Sullivan, another of our fellow-countrymen. Barry was by no means
superior to Falconer in his conception of the various parts, but he
greatly surpassed him in voice, physique, and general bearing on the
stage, in which respects I think he had no equal in our times.

After Falconer went to London he became manager of the Lyceum Theatre,
where several of his pieces were performed, including the well-known
Irish drama, "Peep o' Day," which had an enormously successful run. With
this he also produced a magnificent panorama of Killarney, to illustrate
which he wrote the well-known song of "Killarney" which, with the music
of Balfe, our Irish composer, at once became very popular, as it ever
since has been. Madame Anna Whitty, the distinguished vocalist, who
first sang "Killarney," was a daughter of Michael James Whitty, of whom
I have spoken elsewhere. In going through my papers I have just come
across a letter from O'Rourke, dated from the Princess's Theatre,
Manchester, August 19th, 1872, in which he tells me of the great success
in Manchester of another play of his, "Eileen Oge." This also he
produced at the Lyceum Theatre, London, where it had a long and
successful run. Edmund O'Rourke was a patriotic Irishman, and in this
respect I could never have made the same comparison between the
patriotism of the two men, Barry Sullivan and him, as I did between them
as actors. _Both_ were patriotic Irishmen. It will be remembered that in
an early chapter of this book I have mentioned that Barry Sullivan once
offered himself to our committee as an Irish Nationalist candidate for
the parliamentary representation of Liverpool.

Dion Boucicault, too, is one, I am sure, who would have profited by
anything Thomas Davis might have written on the subject of the drama. I
am quite satisfied that though he was severely criticised for the wake
scene in his play of "The Shaughraun" at the time it was first produced,
the objectionable features in this were more the fault of the actors
than of the dramatist; but the subject was an exceedingly risky one,
even for a man like Boucicault, and would have been better avoided
altogether.

Besides Barry Sullivan and Falconer, other Irish actors I knew were
Barry Aylmer, James Foster O'Neill, and Hubert O'Grady. They were
impersonators of what were known as "Irish parts," and being genuine
Irish Nationalists, as well as actors, did much to elevate the character
of such performances. For with them, all the wit and drollery were
retained, while they helped, by their example, to banish the buffoonery
that used to characterise the "Stage Irishman."

I am reminded by a criticism on one of his pieces in a London daily
paper that we can claim, as a fellow-countryman, perhaps the most
brilliant writer at the present time for the British stage--George
Bernard Shaw. From a conversation I had with him once, I would certainly
gather that he was a patriotic Irishman.

I have done something in the way of dramatic production myself, one of
the pieces I wrote being at the request of Father Nugent, to assist him
in the great temperance movement he had started in Liverpool. He engaged
a large hall in Bevington Bush, where every Monday night he gave the
total abstinence pledge against intoxicating liquors to large numbers of
people. I was then carrying on the "Catholic Times" for him, and he
asked me to be the first to take the pledge from him at his public
inauguration of the movement. Although, as he was aware, I was already a
pledged teetotaler to Father Mathew, I was greatly pleased to agree to
assist him all I could in his great work.

He believed in providing a counter-attraction to the public house, and
each Monday night, in the Bevington Hall, he provided a concert or some
other kind of entertainment; giving, in the interval between the first
and second part a stirring address and the temperance pledge. As there
was a stage and scenery in the hall, we often had dramatic sketches. The
drama I wrote for Father Nugent had a temperance moral. It was called
"The Germans of Glenmore." It was played several Monday nights in
succession, and was well received.

Some years afterwards I made it into a story, calling it "The Reapers of
Kilbride." This appeared over a frequent signature of mine, "Slieve
Donard," in the "United Irishman," the organ of the Home Rule
Confederation.

Singularly enough, I found that part of it had been changed back again
into the first act of a drama by Mr. Hubert O'Grady, the well-known
Irish comedian.

That gentleman was giving a performance for the benefit of the newly
released political prisoners at one of our Liverpool theatres. Being
somewhat late, I was making my way upstairs in company with Michael
Davitt, and the play had commenced. I could hear on the stage part of
the dialogue, which seemed familiar to me, and, sure enough, when I
took my seat and listened to the rest of the act, the dialogue was
pretty nearly, word for word, from "The Reapers of Kilbride." The
compiler of the play being acted had also drawn upon another drama of
mine for his last act, "Rosaleen Dhu, or the Twelve Pins of Bin-a-Bola."
The play we were witnessing was very cleverly constructed, for Mr.
O'Grady, with his strong dramatic instincts and experience, could tell
exactly what would go well, and could use material accordingly. The
transformation of the story as it appeared in the "United Irishman" back
again into a play would be easily effected, as, leaving out the
descriptive part, the dialogue itself, with the necessary stage
directions, told the story. This, no doubt, Mr. O'Grady had perceived.

Later still, I carried out a similar transformation with another of my
own productions. I have a piece in three acts which, as a play, has
never been published or performed. It is called "The Curse of
Columbkille." This drama I changed into a story, which has appeared in
the series of 6d. novels published by Messrs. Sealy, Bryers and Walker.
The most striking character in it is Olaf, a Dane, who believes himself
to be a re-incarnation of one of the old Danish sea rovers. A member of
the firm, the late Mr. George Bryers, a sterling Irishman, called my
attention to the opinion of the professional reader to the firm that it
would be advisable to call the story "Olaf the Dane; or the Curse of
Columbkille." I accepted the suggestion, and accordingly the book has
been published with that title.

I have seen with much interest the movement inaugurated by the Irish
Theatre Company in Dublin, and have been present at some of their
performances in London. In spite of some false starts and a tendency to
imitate certain undesirable foreign influences, the movement should
certainly help to foster the Irish drama.



CHAPTER XXIV.

"HOW IS OLD IRELAND AND HOW DOES SHE STAND?"


Summing up these pages, how shall I answer the question asked by Napper
Tandy in "The Wearin' of the Green" over a hundred years ago--"How is
old Ireland, and how does she stand?"

Let us see what changes, for the better or for the worse, there have
been during the period--nearly seventy years--covered by these
recollections.

Catholic Emancipation had, five years before I was born, allowed our
people to raise their voices, and give their votes through their
representatives in an alien Parliament.

I am not one to say that no benefit for Ireland has arisen through
legislation at Westminster, but the system that allowed our people to
perish of starvation has always been, to my mind, the one great
justification for our struggle for self-government by every practicable
method. It has been a struggle for sheer existence.

If Ireland had had the making of her own laws when the potato crop
failed, not a single human being would have perished from starvation.
That I am justified in introducing the terrible Irish Famine and its
consequences into these recollections as part of my own experiences I
think I have shown in my description of its effects upon our people
when passing through Liverpool as emigrants or as settlers in England.

I have always endeavoured to look upon the most hopeful aspects of the
Irish question. But with the appalling tragedy of the Famine half way in
the last century, with half our people gone and the population still
diminishing, one is bound to admit that the nineteenth century was one
of the most disastrous in Irish history.

Is it surprising that, during my time, driven desperate at the sight of
a perishing people in one of the most fruitful lands on earth, we should
have made two attempts at rebellion?

In 1848 the means were totally inadequate.

In 1867 the movement looked more hopeful in many respects. The
revolutionary organisation had a large number of enrolled members on
both sides of the Atlantic. Among them were hundreds in the British
army, and many thousands of Irish-American veterans trained in the Civil
War, eager to wipe off the score of centuries in a conflict, on
something like equal terms, with the olden oppressor of their race.

But the real hope of success lay in the prospect of a war between
America and England, which at one time seemed imminent, and justified
the action of the Fenian chiefs in their preparations.

It was, however, the very existence of Fenianism which, more than any
other cause, prevented war. For none knew better than far-seeing
statesmen like Mr. Gladstone (who declared that he was prompted to
remedial measures for Ireland by "the intensity of Fenianism") that
within a month of the commencement of a war between America and England,
Ireland would be lost to the British crown for ever. That is why English
statesmen would have grovelled in the dust before America, rather than
engage in a conflict with her.

The generous way in which the Irish exiles in America have poured their
wealth into the lap of their island mother, and the determination they
have shown to shed their blood for her just as freely, should the
opportunity only come, are the features which to some extent
counterbalance the tragedy of the Famine. For that terrible calamity, by
driving our people out in millions, raised a power on the side of
Ireland which her oppressors could not touch, a power which is no doubt
among the means intended by Providence to hasten our coming day of
freedom.

Nevertheless, emigration, the most unanswerable proof of English
misgovernment, is a terrible drain on our country's life-blood, and no
entirely hopeful view of Ireland's future can be held until this is
stopped.

What, however, are the reflections which bring encouragement?

One is that the time cannot be far distant when some statesman of the
type of Gladstone will try to avert the danger threatening the British
empire through an ever-discontented Ireland, by conceding to her at
least the amount of self-government possessed by Canada and Australia.

To this one section of Englishmen will say "Never!" Students of history
have many times heard the "Never" of English statesmen, and know how
often it has proved futile. Before I was born they were saying "Never"
to Catholic Emancipation. Later on they said "Never" to the demand for
tenant-right. A few years ago, when fighting the Boers, they said
"Never" to the suggestion that the war should be ended on conditions.
Even now economic causes and the competition of rival powers are at work
in such a way that it is plain that the existence of the British Empire
is at stake. England's one chance lies in the possibility of the
friendship of the free democratic commonwealths which are at present her
colonies--and of Ireland.

The establishing of County Councils in Ireland and Great Britain was an
acceptance of the principle of Home Rule. Their successful working has
caused the belief in that principle to gain ground. Their administration
in Ireland has shown that in no part of the British empire does there
exist a greater capacity for self-government. All creeds and classes
there have found the material benefit arising from them, for instead of
their finances being managed by irresponsible boards, the money of the
people is now wisely spent by their elected representatives.

Moreover, if there is one thing that is certain, it is that the _future_
is on our side. In my own time I have seen a most startling change come
over the attitude of the working classes of England towards Ireland as
they progressed in knowledge and political power themselves. They are
the certain rulers of England to-morrow, the men whose democratic ideals
are our own, and who have in fact largely been trained by us. Their rise
means the fall of the system that has mis-governed Ireland. Thus every
day brings nearer the triumph of our ideal, the ideal of freedom, which
will probably be worked out in the form of Ireland governing herself and
working harmoniously with a democratic self-governing England.

The unquestionable growing desire among the people of Wales and Scotland
to manage their own affairs proceeds largely from their having felt the
benefits of _local_ self-government in their County Councils. Their
prejudice against _National_ self-government for Ireland, and for
themselves, too, should they desire it, is rapidly breaking down. In
this connection, too, we must never forget what an enormous power we
have in the two millions and more of Irishmen and men of Irish
extraction in Great Britain, and that, under ordinary circumstances,
they hold the balance of power between British parties in about 150
Parliamentary constituencies.

With regard to the Irish land question, we have every reason to be
hopeful of the final and complete success of the great movement
commenced by the organisation founded by Michael Davitt.

We have had, since the days of Strongbow, many conquests and
confiscations and settlements, the main object of each being the
acquisition of the land of Ireland. Is it not marvellous,
notwithstanding all the attempts to destroy our people, how they have
clung to the soil and so absorbed the foreign element that you still so
often find the old tribal names in the old tribal lands? Apart from
this, we have, in the descendants of the various invaders, what would be
a most valuable element in a self-governing Ireland, for whatever be the
creed or the race from which men have sprung, it is but natural that all
should love alike the land of their birth. As a result of Michael
Davitt's labours, that land is to-day more nearly than it has been for
centuries the property of the people, and it seems now, humanly
speaking, impossible that they should ever be dispossessed of it again.

Then there is the improvement in education. At one time it was banned
and hunted along with religion and patriotism. Then it was permitted,
with a view of turning it into a lever against the other two elements.
Concessions have so far been wrung from the British parliament that
there is now a university to which Irish youths can be sent. Here there
is a great factor for good, for while, on the one hand, knowledge is
power, on the other hand the thirst for knowledge has always been
ineradicable in the Irish character. There are also the beginnings of
technical training so long badly needed. Under self-government we should
have been a couple of generations earlier in the race than we are, but
it is not too late.

Lastly, in reckoning up the conditions from which we can take hope and
comfort there is this: In the darkest hour we have never lost faith in
ourselves and our Cause. To find a parallel for such tenacity in the
pages of the history of any land would be difficult.

We come of a race that, through the long, dreary centuries, has never
known despair, nor shall we despair now. I am assured that, before long,
the drain on our life blood that has gone on for sixty years will stop,
and that we shall stand on solid ground at last, ready for an upward
spring.

And so, to the young men of Ireland I would say: Be true to yourselves;
hold fast to the ideals which your fathers preserved through the
centuries, in spite of savage force and unscrupulous statecraft. The
times are changing; new impulses are constantly shaping the destinies of
the nations; have confidence in God and your country; and who shall dare
to say that the future of Ireland may not yet be a glorious recompense
for the heroism with which she has borne the sufferings of the past.

                                   THE END.



  INDEX.


  A.

  Alabama Claims, 75.

  Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien condemned and executed, 104.

  Ambulances, Irish, for Franco-Prussian War, 160, 161.

  Amnesty Association and O'Connell Centenary, 183.

  Ancient Fenians, 52.

  Anderson, Arthur, resembled Corydon, 85.

  "Annesley's Mountain, Lord," 31, 47.

  Answers to Correspondents, 154.

  Antrim, my birthplace, 2.

  Archbishops Crolly and Murray support the Bequest Act, 30.

  Archdeacon, George, 52.

  Architectural Drawing and Surveying, employed at these, 54.

  Arms for Rising of 1867. Inadequate supply, 94.

  Arrest and rescue of Kelly and Deasy, 95.

  Aunt Kitty, my godmother, 2.
  ----Mary, 38.
  ----Nancy, 15.

  Aylmer, Barry, adopts the stage as profession, 119.


  B.

  Ballad Poetry of Ireland, 260.

  Ballymagenaghy, my mother's birthplace, 31.
  ----rocky soil, 31.

  Ballymagenaghy, "Papishes to a man," 31.
  ----cottage industries, 33, 34.
  ----large families, 33.

  Ballymagrehan, 36.

  Ballywalter, my father's birthplace, 2.

  Ballinahinch, Battle of, 38, 39.

  Banbridge, weaving industries by steam, 34.

  Bannon, Oiney, 31.

  Barrett, David, examines the _Lia Fail_, 110.

  "Barney Henvey" and the Fairies, 35, 36.

  Barry, John, 8, 127.
  ----calls us together to form Home Rule Confederation of
  ----Great Britain, 173.

  Barry Sullivan, a great Irish actor, 22.

  Beers, Lord Roden's agent in Dolly's Brae massacre, 45.

  Beecher (Captain Michael O'Rorke), "The Fenian Paymaster," 78, 79.

  Belle Vue Prison, Manchester, near the scene of rescue, 101.

  Benedictines, 4.

  Biggar, Joseph, 180, 181, 193.
  ----Catholic, becomes a, 181.
  ----"Obstruction." enters upon, 182.
  ----Parliament, enters, 179.
  ----Parnell, combination with, 179.

  Birmingham, supplementary Convention, 176.
  "Black North," The, 15.

  Bligh, M.D., Alderman Alexander, 200.

  Bligh, M.D., John, 207.

  Blockade, running of "United Ireland," 209, 215.

  Boer War, The, 271.

  "_Bog Latin_," Mr. Butt gives the origin of it, 195.

  Boucicault, Dion, 263.

  Bourbaki, our men in Foreign Legion with him struck last blow in
  --Franco-German War, 161.

  Boyle, M.P., Alderman Daniel, 239.

  Brady, John, 236.

  Breslin, John, 76.
  ----aids in escape of military Fenians, 140.

  Breslin, Michael, "on his keeping," 77, 123.

  Breslin, Michael, narrowly escapes arrest, 124.

  Brett (sergeant of police) shot in Manchester rescue, 101.

  "Brian, Tribe of," 28.

  Brian O'Loughlin in '98, 38.

  Brotherhood of St. Patrick, the forerunner of Fenianism and
  --Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood, 87.

  Bryant, Mrs. Dr. Sophie, 238.

  Bryers, George, 266.

  "Buckshot Foster," 210.

  Burke, Rickard, meets a notable company, 93.
  ----purchases arms, 105.
  ----Clerkenwell explosion an attempt to rescue him, 106.
  ----sent to penal servitude, 106.
  ----returned to America, 112.

  Burke, Thomas, J.P., of Liverpool, 186.

  Bushmills, Co. Antrim, my birthplace, 2.

  Butt, Isaac, presides at the first Annual Convention of the
  Home Rule Confederation of Great Britain, and becomes its
  --first President, 173.
  ----a contributor to "United Irishman," 181.
  ----gives no countenance to obstruction, 188.
  ----1876 Convention votes confidence in him, 188.
  ----resigns presidency of organisation, and succeeded by Parnell, 192.
  ----his death, 195.

  Byrom Street, Liverpool, my house for a time the headquarters of
  Home Rule Confederation
  of Great Britain, 181.
  ----frequently met Butt, Parnell, Biggar, and other leaders there, 181.

  Byrne, Daniel, Richmond Prison warder, 77.

  Byrne, Frank, 160, 181.

  Byrne, M.P., Garrett, 230.

  Byrne, Patrick, 199.


  C.

  Cahill, Rev. Dr., a great preacher, 59.

  Camp in Everton, in view of expected rising in Liverpool, 55.

  Campbell, Richard, a humorous Irish singer, 120.

  "Camp Fires of the Legion," by James Finigan, 162.

  Carlingford Lough, vies with Killarney in beauty, 27.

  Carnarvon Borough election, where I first met Lloyd George, 237.

  _Carraig_ Mountain, 31

  Cassidy, Tom, "a flogger," 67.

  Castlewellan, Eiver Magennis its member in King James's Parliament, 29.

  Castlewellan, a Nationalist centre for South Down, 47.

  "Catalpa" carries off the military Fenians, 140.
  ----lands them safely in New York, 145.

  Catholic Emancipation, 268.

  Catholic Hierarchy, Restoration of, 58.

  Catholic Institute, 54.

  "Catholic Times," I review in it "Life of Robert Emmet,"
  by Michael James Whitty, 21.
  ----carrying it on single-handed, 153.

  Celtic Race, the Catholics of Ulster the most Celtic part of
  --Ireland, 30. 57.

  Chambers, Corporal, 200.

  Chester Castle, plot to seize, 81.
  ----I volunteer for the raid, 82.

  Christian Brothers, The, 14, 27.

  Churches, increase rapidly in Liverpool, 6.

  Clampit, Sam, a good, honest Protestant Fenian, is arrested, 108.

  Clan Connell War Song--O'Donnell Aboo, 115.

  Clan na nGael, 36.

  Clarence Dock, Liverpool, 3.
  ----where the harvest men landed, 35.

  Clarke, Michael, 180.

  Clarke, Patrick, 180.

  Clarkhill, Co. Down, 47.

  Coming over from Ireland, 3.

  Commins, Dr. Andrew, his record, 172.
  ----becomes head of Home Rule Organisation in Great Britain, 171, 172.

  Conciliation Hall, Dublin, 16.

  Condon, Captain Edward O'Meagher, 93.

  Condon, plans rescue of Kelly and Deasy, 96.
  ----is himself arrested, 102.

  Condon, his defiant shout in the dock of "God save Ireland," 104.
  ----returned to America, and has been since helping the Cause there and
  here, 106, 107, and 112.

  Confederates, Irish, 55.

  Connolly, Lawrence, 185.

  Connaught, 35.

  Convention of 1876 votes confidence in Isaac Butt, 188.

  Copperas Hill Chapel, 5.
  ----Schools, 13.

  Cork, "No sin in Cor-r-r-k," 26.

  Corydon, the informer, what he was like, 85.
  ----throws off the mask, 85.

  Cottage Industries in Ulster, 33.

  Council of Fenian Leaders, 93.

  Cousens, a Liverpool detective, 131.

  Cranston, Robert, escaped military Fenian, 141.

  Crilly, Alfred, a brilliant Irishman, who did good service for the
  Cause, 150, 171.

  Crilly, Daniel, brother of Alfred, 150, 211.
  ----on staff of "Nation," 151.
  ----registration agent, 243.
  ----editor of "United Irishman," 180.
  ----Member of Parliament, 180.

  Crilly, Frederick Lucas, General Secretary of United Irish League
  --of Great Britain, 150.

  Crimean War, The, 65.

  Crosbie Street, mostly spoke Connaught Irish, 15.

  Crowley, Thade, the Cork pork butcher, 25, 26.

  Cumberland, 33.

  Curragh of Kildare, I help at the building of camp there, 65.


  D.

  "Daily News," The, describes the rescue of Kelly and Deasy,
  and acknowledges the courage and skill of the rescuers, 101.

  "Daily Post," Liverpool, 21.

  Darragh, Daniel, brings the arms from Birmingham for Manchester Rescue, 96.
  ----dies in Portland Prison, 126.
  ----Hogan brings his remains to Ireland, and Condon visits his grave, 127.

  Darragh, Thomas, escaped military Fenian, 141.

  Davis, Thomas, as registration agent, 242.
  ----his "Literary and Historical Essays," 261.

  Davitt, Martin, father of Michael, 240.

  Davitt, Michael, takes up Forrester's work of supplying arms, 132.
  ----is arrested and convicted on Corydon's testimony, 136.
  ----returns from penal servitude, 199.
  ----formation of the Land League, 205.
  ----his "Fall of Feudalism," 197.
  ----tries to get Parnell to join advanced movement, 202.

  "Dear Old Ireland," T.D. Sullivan's Song, 38.

  Denvir's "Monthly" and "Irish Library," 257.

  De Courcy, 27, 29.

  Denvir, Bishop, Bible, 30.
  ----see Father O'Laverty, 30.
  ----I met him with my father, 3.

  Denvir, General Denver's daughter enquires after him, 41.

  Denver City, the Capital of Colorado, named after General James
  --William Denver, descended from Patrick Denvir, a '98 Insurgent, 40.

  Desmond, Captain, one of the rescuers of the military Fenians, 140.

  Devoy, John, he aided the escape of James Stephens, 76, and of the
  --military Fenians, 140.

  Dillon, John, M.P., 205.

  Distinguished Irishmen I have met, 10.

  Disestablishment of the Irish Church prompted by Gladstone's recognition
  --of "the intensity of Fenianism," 147.

  Disruption of the Irish Party, 252.

  Doctors and other professional men excellent helpers in the
  National Cause, 177, 258.

  Dock labourers' love of learning, 19.

  Dolly's Brae Fight, 44.
  ----massacre, 45.

  Donnelly, Edward, foreman printer of "United Ireland," brings me the
  --stereos, 210.

  Doran, Arthur, an Irish newsagent, becomes bail for Forrester, 135.

  Dowling, chief constable of Liverpool, dismissed, 60.

  Down, County, 2, 29, 47.
  ----cottage industries, 33.

  Drumgoolan, my uncle's parish, 28.

  Dublin Castle wires warning of Manchester Rescue--too late, 97.

  Duffy, Michael Francis, 166.

  Duffy, Sir Charles Gavan, loses heart for a time, 62.

  Duffy, Sir Charles Gavan, his old hopes revive, 62.

  Dundas, General, routed by the Kilcullen pikemen in '98.

  Dundrum Bay, 32.


  E.

  Egan, Patrick, 184.
  ----sustains "United Ireland" against attempted suppression, 215.
  ----his life story, 219.
  ----always a practical patriot, 221.
  ----attitude towards Parliament, 221.
  ----President of Irish National League of America, 224.
  ----American ambassador to Chili, 224.
  ----President Harrison's tribute, 224.

  Elizabethan days, 5.

  "Emerald Minstrels," The, 115, 116, 117.
   ----inspired by "Spirit of the Nation," 118.

  "Erin's Hope," with Irish-American officers, arms, and ammunition,
   --reaches Sligo Bay, 94.
   ----returns to America, 95.

  "Erin's Sons in England," racy song by T.D. Sullivan, 152.


  F.

  Fahy, Francis, poet. 137

  Falconer (Edmond O'Rourke), a famous Irish actor and dramatist,
  --author of "Peep o' Day," "Killarney," etc., 52, 263.

  Famine, The great Irish, 6.
  ----heroism of the clergy, 53.
  ----the greatest disaster in Irish history, 269.

  "Felon Repeal Club" in Newcastle-on-Tyne, 56.

  Fenian Brotherhood, The, 52, 73.
  ----the two wings, 123.
  ----Conference in Paris, Michael Breslin attends, 123.
  ----gathering, which Parnell attends at my invitation, 203.

  "Fenian Paymaster" (Captain O'Rorke), known as "Beecher," 78.

  Fenian leaders in England take counsel, 93.

  Fenianism.--What did it do for Ireland? 146.

  Ferguson, John, assists at foundation of Home Rule Confederation of
  --Great Britain, 176.
  ----indicates Parnell as future leader, 192.
  ----director of "United Irishman," 180.

  Finigan, James Lysaght, his adventurous career, 124.
  ----in the Franco-German War, 160.

  Finn MacCool and the ancient Fenians, 52.

  Flannery, Thomas, an able Irish scholar, 164, 258.

  Flood, John, and the Chester raid, 82.

  "Flowering," girls employed at, 34.

  "Flowing Tide," 233.

  Foley, Patrick James, 254.

  Ford, Patrick, Michael Davitt's tribute to him, 198.
  ----I welcome the "Irish World" in the "Catholic Times," 198.

  Forrester, Arthur, he brings me revolvers, 131.
  ----I am visited by detectives, 131.
  ----they can make out no case against him, and he is released, 135.

  Forrester, Arthur, he joins the French Foreign Legion, 134, 160, 162.

  Forrester, Mrs. Ellen, comes with Michael Davitt, 133.
  ----like others of her family, she wrote poetry, 134.

  Fox, Frank, one of our poets, 181.

  "Fount of patriotism," 11.

  Franco-Prussian War, 160.

  Freemantle, rescue from of the military Fenians, 139.

  "Frolics of Phil Foley," a sketch by John F. McArdle, 121.


  G.

  Gaelic characters, the, 11.

  Gaelic League Revival, 256.

  Gaelic Prayer Book (Scotch), printed by me for Father Campbell, S.J.,
  for use in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, 259.

  Garton, Patrick De Lacy, Stephens escapes in his hooker, 78.
  ----he helps the blockade-running of "United Ireland." "Georgette,"
  ----passenger steamer, pursues the military Fenians, 143.
  ----fires a round shot across the bows of the "Catalpa," in which they
  ----are escaping, 143.

  Gilmore, Patrick Sarsfield, a distinguished Irish-American composer
  --and musician, 114.

  Gilmore, Mary Sarsfield, his daughter, an able contributor to
  --"Irish World," 114.

  Gladstone, William Ewart, introduces Home Rule Bill, 231.
  ----"Flowing Tide," 233.
  ----returned to power through aid of Irish vote, 232.

  "God Save Ireland," Condon gives us a rallying cry and a
  --National Anthem, 104.

  "Gormans of Glenmore," The, 265.

  Goss, Bishop, a typical Englishman of the best kind.
  Blunt-hitting-out-from-the-shoulder style of speaking, 156.

  Grattan's Parliament, 41.

  Graves, Alfred Perceval, 138, 259.

  Gunboats in river Mersey in view of expected rising in Liverpool, 55.


  H.

  "Hail to the Chief" (from the "Lady of the Lake"), 118.
   ----played as salute to Parnell, 117.

  Halpin, General, a scientific soldier, 90.
  ----in command at the rising, 90.
  ----gives us lecture on fortifications and earthworks, 91.
  ----arrested at Queenstown, 91.

  "Hamlet" played by Falconer, 262.

  Hand, John, one of our poets, 181.

  Hanlons, Hughey and Ned, 51.

  Harrington, Martin, escaped military Fenian, 141.

  Harvestmen from Connaught and Donegal, a hardy lot, 35.

  Haslingden, the home of Davitt, 84.

  Hassett, Thomas Henry, escaped military Fenian, 141.

  Healy, T.M., when I first met him, 196.
  ----becomes Parnell's secretary, 197.

  Heinrick, Hugh, editor of "United Irishman," 180.

  Hibernians, Ancient Order of, strong in Liverpool, and stout champions
  --of country and creed, 16.
  ----a bodyguard for the priests in penal days, 17.
  ----their stronghold in northern Irish counties and counties adjoining, 18.
  ----in America, Rev. Thomas Shahan pays tribute to the Order, 16, 17.

  "Hidden Gem," a play by Cardinal Wiseman, 63.

  Hierarchy restored, 58.

  Highlands of Scotland, the Gaelic spoken there, 187.

  Hints from Thomas Davis to Irish painters, students, historians,
  --lecturers, journalists, public speakers, and others, 261.

  Hogan, the Irish sculptor, crowns O'Connell with Repeal cap, 49.

  Hogan, Martin Joseph, escaped military Fenian, 141.

  Hogan, William, a friend of Captain John M'Cafferty, 87.
  ----helps Darragh to get the revolvers for Manchester rescue, 96.
  ----is arrested for this, tried, and acquitted, 124, 125.

  Holyhead, wagons and carriages for there to be seized, 81.

  Holy Cross Chapel, Liverpool, as it was, 58.
  ----the chief of police countenances the getting up of a panic there, 60.

  Holland, of the submarine, 145.

  Home Rule Organisation, formation in Ireland, various sections assist, 148.
  ----John Barry calls us together to form Home Rule Confederation
  ----of Great Britain, 173.

  Home Rule Organisation, I become its first secretary, 155.

  Hyde Road, the scene of the Manchester rescue, 99.

  Hymans, Jewish admirers of Thade Crowley, 25.


  I.

  Igoe's publichouse at the Curragh, 67.

  "Inishowen," noble song by Charles Gavan Duffy, 260.

  Insurrection in Ireland considered easier to put down
  than "Obstruction," 190.

  Iona Pilgrimage, 233.

  Irish-American officers to leave Ireland for England, 79.

  Irish Brigade of Liverpool, 92.

  "Irish Library," I start it, 35.

  "Irish in Britain," The, 78, 102.

  Irish National League organiser, Edward M'Convey, 33.

  Irish Parliamentary Party, disruption and reunion of, 252.

  Irish Race Convention, 254.

  "Irish Rapparees," by Gavan Duffy, 260.

  Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood, 73. 74.

  Irish of Great Britain compact and politically important, 2.

  "Irish World," The, 198.

  Isle of Man, 32, 187.


  J.

  Jack Langan, an Irish boxer, 4.

  "Jigger Loft," where our men work, 7.

  Journalism, 21.

  Johnson, my classical teacher, 28.


  K.

  Kehoe, Inspector Lawrence.--Did he shut his eyes in my case? 129.

  Kelly, Col. Thomas, his personal appearance, 92.
  ----directs rescue of James Stephens, 76, 77, 78.
  ----I meet him in Liverpool, 92, 93.
  ----his arrest in Manchester with Captain Deasy, 95.
  ----rescue, 100, 101.
  ----how he escaped from the country, 105.

  Kildare, gallant fight of the men of Kildare in '98, 69.

  King Edward VII., plot for his abduction when Prince of Wales, 88.

  Kirwan, Captain Martin Walter, in the Franco-Prussian War, 160.
  ----afterwards general secretary of Irish organisation in Great Britain.

  Knox, Edmund Vesey, a Protestant Member of Parliament, who did
  --good service at Lloyd George's election and elsewhere, 238.


  L.

  Lambert, Michael, makes key to fit James Stephens' cell, 78.

  "Lancashire Free Press," 91.

  Land League, The, its formation in April, 1879, with Davitt recognised
  --as its "Father," 205.

  Larkin, Michael, 103, 104.

  Lecale, Celtic and Norman admixture since De Courcy's time, 27.

  Leitrim Chapel, where I served Mass for my uncle, 32.
  ----band of fiddles, flutes, and clarionets, 37.

  _Lia Fail_ (Stone of Destiny), 109, the stone to be stolen, 110.

  _Lia Fail_, David Barrett, League organiser, tries to test its weight.
  --Is stopped by its guardians, 111.

  Liberator, The (O'Connell), frequently passed through Liverpool, 43.

  Lloyd-George, David, Chancellor of the Exchequer, I help
  --in his first Election, 237.

  London Irish Literary Society, 259.

  Lost opportunity for Irish tongue, 15.

  Lover, Samuel, painter, poet, musician, composer, novelist,
  --and dramatist, 10.
  ----his patriotism, 10, 11.
  ----his wit, 12.

  Loyal toasts, 188, 189, 203.

  Lumber Street Chapel, 4.

  Lynch,. Daniel, translates "God Save Ireland" into Irish, 113.


  M.

  McAnulty, Bernard, a strong Home Ruler and Fenian sympathiser, 34, 56, 180.

  McArdle, John, 15, 16.

  McArdle, John F., the most brilliant of the Emerald Minstrels, 118.

  McCann, Michael Joseph, author of "O'Donnell Aboo," I make
  --his acquaintance, 114, 115.

  McCafferty, John, had fought for the South in the American Civil War.
  --His plot to seize Chester Castle, 81.
  ----his scheme (as Mr. Patterson) to abduct the Prince of Wales, 88.

  McCartans, The, 29.

  McCarthy, Sergeant, his sudden death, 200.

  M'Cormick, Father, of Wigan, men on way to Chester raid go to Confession
  --to him, 82.

  McDonald, Bishop of Argyll and the Isles, preached at Iona in Gaelic
  --on the life of St. Columbkille, 234.

  McDonnell, Sergeant James, 206

  McGrady, Owen, conference at his house to arrange for reception of
  --expedition then on the sea, 93.

  McGrath, Father Peter, 187.

  McGowan, James, my godfather, 2.

  McHale, Archbishop, I report his sermon, 155.

  McKinley, Peter, 180.

  MacMahon, Father, of Suncroft, gives the Curragh men a good character, 70.
  ----he tells us of St. Brigid's miraculous mantle, 69.
  ----and of the gallant Kildare men in '98, 69.

  McMahon, Heber, 181.

  MacManus, Terence Bellew, 49, 52.

  McNaghten, Sir Francis, 2.

  McSwiney, Father, S.J., and the "Catholic Times," 154.

  "Macbeth" played by Falconer, 262.

  Magennis, Eiver (see Castlewellan), 29.

  Maguire, the marine, wrongly charged at Manchester, 104.

  Manchester, first Convention of Home Rule Confederation held there, 173.

  Manchester Martyrs, place of rescue confounded with place of execution, 99.

  Mangan, Richard, 180.

  Mass in Penal times, 5.

  Massacre at Dolly's Brae, 45.

  Mathew, Father, Apostle of Temperance, what he was like, 13.

  Maughan, Peter, recruiting agent for the I.R.B. among
  --the British soldiery, 72, 86.

  Mazzinghi, Count, composer of "Hail to the Chief," 115.

  Meany, Stephen Joseph, a journalist, 91.
  ----in Young Ireland movement, 22.
  ----starts "Lancashire Free Press," 91.
  ----imprisoned for Fenianism, 91.

  "Men of the North, The," stirring ballad by Charles Gavan Duffy, 260.

  Military Fenians, their rescue, chiefly by John Breslin,
  --going from America, and John Walsh from this side, 139 to 145.

  Millbank Prison, M'Cafferty writes from there to William Hogan, 87.

  Mogan, John, a capable man at registration and electioneering, 243.

  Monroe, General, a Presbyterian leader, hanged at his own door in '98, 41.

  Mourne Mountains, 27, 32, 57.

  Mulhall, Peter and James, 194.

  Mullaghmast, 49.

  Mullin, Dr. James, 177, 178.

  Murphy, Bessie, 181.

  Murphy, Captain, 93, 112.

  Murphy, David, supposed to have been shot by connivance of Pigott, 247.

  Murphy, Patrick, 239.

  Murphy, William, sent to penal servitude for attack on the van
  --at Manchester, though not there, 102.

  Murray, Archbishop, 30.


  N.

  "Nation" newspaper, readings from it, 15.
  ----"O'Donnell Aboo" appears in it, 115.

  "Nation once again, A," 36.

  National Anthem of "God Save Ireland," Condon's defiant shout
  --in the dock the origin of it, 104.

  "Nationalist" The, 256.

  Naughton, Miss, 132.

  "Ninety-eight" memories, many of the leaders Presbyterians, 41.

  "No Popery" mob, A, 4.

  "No Popery" mania over "Papal aggression," 58.

  Normans in Ireland, The, 27.

  "Northern Press and Catholic Times," 72.

  Norse settlements, 27.

  Nugent, Father, and the Catholic Institute, 63.
  ----St. Patrick's celebrations, 64.
  ----proprietor of "Catholic Times," which I conducted for him, 91.
  ----after a long interval, am pleased to meet him just before
  ---- his death, 159.


  O.

  Oates, Tom, of Newcastle, 94.

  Oath of allegiance, Parnell and my view on this, 112.

  "O," the prefix, 33.

  O'Brien, Captain Michael, is hanged at Manchester, 104, 112.

  O'Brien, John, released prisoner, 200.

  O'Brien, James Francis Xavier, introduces me to O'Donovan (Rossa), 73.
  ----No more gallant figure among the Fenian leaders than J.F.X. O'Brien.
  ----In all things _straight_, 89, 90.

  O'Brien, M.P., Patrick, 230.

  O'Brien, Richard Barry, 259.

  O'Brien, William, 212, &c.

  "Obstruction," the 1877 Convention endorses the policy, 104.

  O'Coigly, Father, Pilgrimage, 235.

  O'Connell Centenary, 183, 184.

  O'Connell in Liverpool, 48.
  ----a faithful son of the Church, 48.
  ----enormous attendance at his meetings, 49.
  ----Orange attack repelled by McManus and his friends, 49.

  O'Connell, John (son of the Liberator, Daniel O'Connell),
  --a British militia officer at the Curragh; gives good example
  --to his men by going to Holy Communion, 68.
  ----he wrote fine verses, 68.

  O'Connell, Maurice, wrote "Recruiting Song of the Irish Brigade," 69.

  O'Connell Centenary, 183.

  O'Connor, M.P., T.P., the only Home Rule Member of Parliament for
  --Great Britain elected _as such_, 24, 188, 230.

  O'Donovan, Edmund, son of John O'Donovan, 90.
  ----in French Foreign Legion, 160, 162.
  ----special correspondent in Russo-Turkish War, 164.
  ----Merv, 165.
  ----perishes in the Soudan, 165.

  O'Donovan, Jeremiah (Rossa), 73.

  O'Donovan, John, the distinguished Irish scholar, 163.
  ----memoir of him by Thomas Flannery, 164.

  O'Donnell, Bishop, 254.
  "O'Donnell Aboo" as our national anthem? 114, 115.
  ----no claim, 116.

  O'Donnell, F.H., 181, 193.

  O'Grady, Hubert, 265.

  O'Hagan, Lord, 184.

  O'Hanlons, The, the Ulster standard bearers, 51.

  O'Kelly, James, in Mexican campaign, 165.
  ----recruits for the French army until fall of Paris, 166.
  ----adopts journalism, 167.
  ----enters Parliament, 167.

  "Olaf, the Dane, or the Curse of Columbkille," 266.

  Oliver, William John, 180.

  O'Laverty, Father, historian of Down and Connor, 29, 30.

  O'Loughlin, Brian, 38.

  O'Loughlin, Father Bernard, my uncle, 33.
  ----Father Bernard. Passionist, of Paris 169.
  ----John, my uncle, 169.
  ----Michael, Father, my uncle, 28, 33.
  ----Margaret, my mother, 33.

  O'Mahony, Michael, writes "Life of St. Columbkille" for me, 234.

  O'Malley, M.P., William, 230.

  Opening of a bath by swimming in it, by T.D. Sullivan, when
  --Lord Mayor of Dublin, 153.

  Orangeism, 19, 20, 22, 23.

  O'Reilly, John Boyle, his "Life" in our Library, 86.
  ----helps escape of the military Fenians, 140.

  O'Rorke, Captain Michael (Beecher), the Fenian paymaster, 78, 79.

  O'Rourke, Edmund (Falconer), actor and dramatist, 52, 263.

  O'Shea, Captain, a candidate for Parliament, 228.

  O'Sullivan, Eugene, 211.
  ----Eugene or "Owen," a Welsh registration case, 244.



  P.

  Packmen from Ulster, Oiney Bannon, Bernard McAnulty, 34.

  "Pagan O'Leary," "Beggars and Robbers," 80.

  "Papal aggression," 58.

  Papal Volunteers, we entertain them, 155.

  "Papishes," 19.

  Parnell, Charles Stewart, enters Parliament, 179, 181.
  ----becomes chairman of Irish Parliamentary Party, 192.
  ----could weigh men's capabilities, 197.
  ----Davitt cannot induce Parnell to join the advanced organisation, 202.
  ----Parnell and the I.R.B. men, 203.
  ----with Dillon, goes to America for relief of Irish distress, 208.
  ----collapse of the "Times" Forgeries against Parnell, 248.
  ----disruption in the Party, 252.
  ----reunion, January 30th, 1900, 255.

  "Patriot Parliament of 1689," by Thomas Davis, 29.

  Patterson, Mr. (Captain McCafferty), calls on me, 88.

  "Peggy Loughlin's wee boy," 32.

  Penal days in Liverpool, 4, 5.

  Phoenix movement and trials, 73.

  Pictures at election times, "the Pope," "Robert Emmet," "King William," 245.

  Plantation of Ulster, 31, 39.

  Power, John O'Connor, lectures at Davitt's meeting, 199.

  "Punch" and "Times" seemed to gloat over probable extinction of
  --Irish race, 53.

  "Punch's" caricature of O'Connell, 54.

  Purcell, Edward, helps blockade running of "United Ireland," 213.

  Prendiville, John, his steamers used to bring voters from the river, 244.

  "Presbyterian Government," was there a call for this at Ballinahinch? 39.

  Price, Father John, S.J., 4.

  "Protestant Ulster" chiefly an importation, 30.


  Q.

  "Quare man doesn't know his own mother's name," 33.


  R.

  Race Convention in Ireland, 254.

  Rails to Chester to be taken up, 81.

  "Rapparees, The Irish," Charles Gavan Duffy's fine song, 260.

  Readings from the "Nation," 15.

  "Reapers of Kilbride," 265, 266.

  "Rebel, An Old," 1.

  Red-haired woman stops the growth of the Curragh, 69.

  Redmond, John, 3, 252.

  Redmond, Sylvester, 86.

  Refugees of the '67 Rising, 92.

  Repeal Hall, 52.

  "Repeal Cap," 49.

  Rescue of Kelly and Deasy.
  ----Incidents of the arrest and rescue described in page 95
  ----and following pages.

  Reunion of the Parliamentary Party, January 30th, 1900, 255.

  Revisiting Ireland, 27.

  Revolvers for Manchester, 96.

  Revolvers from Forrester, 131.

  Reynolds, Dr., 52.

  Ribbonmen, 23.

  Richards, Richard ("Double Dick"), 109.

  Richardson, John, 5.

  "Richard III." played by Falconer, 262.

  Rising of 1848, drilling to oppose it, 55.

  Rising of 1867, 89.

  Roden, Lord, 32.
  ----Dolly's Brae massacre, 45.

  "Roderick Vich Alpine Dhu," 115.

  Rogers, John, a Gaelic scholar, 259.

  Roney, Hughey, his house threatened by Orangemen, 15, 20.

  "Rory O'More," by Lover, 11.
  ----a scene from it reenacted, 12.

  "Rosaleen Dhu," 266.

  Rotunda, Dublin, 155.

  Round Towers, Kildare, &c., 70.

  Russell, Lord John, his Ecclesiastical Titles Act, 58, 61.

  Russell, Charles (Lord Russell of Killowen), willing to become our candidate
  --for Parliament to induce Liberals to withdraw objectionable man.
  --This has desired effect, 249.
  ----we ask him to take the chair for our first Home Rule meeting.
  ----He advises us to get Dr. Commins, 171.

  Russell, Sir Edward, of "Liverpool Daily Post," 21, 257.

  Ryan, John (Capn. O'Doherty), calls on me; I join the I.R.B., 74.

  Ryan, John (Capn. O'Doherty),
  ----he describes to me the escape of Stephens, in which he assisted, 77, 78.
  ----now dead many years, 68, 112.

  Ryan, Wm. James, his "Life of John Boyle O'Reilly," 86.

  Ryan, William Patrick, 257.

  Ryan, Dr. Mark, an Irish scholar, 257.


  S.

  Sadlier, John, his suicide, 62.

  Sadlier-Keogh gang, their betrayal of the cause of the Irish
  --tenants, 61, 62.

  Saintfield, battle, in '98, 38.

  Salford Gaol, 99.

  Santley, Sir Charles, 5.

  Sarsfield Band, 184.

  Saturday Evening Concerts, 10.

  School Board Election, Liverpool, our votes enough to elect 8 out of
  --the 15 members, 156.

  Schoolmaster, The, 93, 111.

  Scone, 110.

  Scott, Sir Walter, author of "Hail to the Chief," 115.

  Scotland Ward and Division in Liverpool, an Irish stronghold,
  --both Municipal and Parliamentary, 24, 185.

  Seager, John Renwick, 243.

  Servant girls, Irish-American, 111.

  Sexton, Thomas, 254.

  Shahan, Father, on "Hibernianism," 16, 17.

  "Shan Van Vocht," on the "Curragh of Kildare," sung by the
  --"Emerald Minstrels," 71.

  Shaw, George Bernard, 264.

  "Shemus O'Brien," 121.

  Sherlock, Father, a saintly man, presides at our first Birmingham Convention
  --demonstration, 175, 177.

  Slieve Donard, 32, 265.

  Slieve na Slat ("Mountain of rods"), 31.

  Sloops from Ireland, 3.

  Smyth, George, 52.

  "Spirit of the Nation," 11.

  Stephens, James, his escape from Richmond, 76, 77.

  St. Brigid's mantle, Father MacMahon tells the legend of, 69.

  "Stage Irishman," discountenanced, 119, 264.

  Strongbow, 272.

  Saint Columbkille, 233.

  St. George's Hall, Liverpool, great gathering addressed by Parnell, 206.

  St. Helens meeting, Parnell and Davitt attend, 201.

  St. Mary's, Lumber Street, 4.

  St. Nicholas's, Liverpool, 4, 6.

  St. Patrick's effigy, as if addressing our people from Ireland, 3.

  St. Patrick's Day processions, 22, 24, 64.
  ----celebrations, 64, 65.

  Steamers for O'Connell Centenary, 183.

  Sullivan Brothers, 150.

  Sullivan, A.M. becomes proprietor and editor of the "Nation," 63.
  ----presides at adjourned initial Convention of Home Rule Confederation
  ----of Great Britain, 176.

  Sullivan, T.D., author of our national anthem, 113.
  ----he writes, "Erin's Sons in England" for me, 152.

  Supernatural, Irish faith in the, 13.

  Swift, Miss Kate, 211.


  T.

  Taaffe, James Vincent, 211.

  Tenant Right Agitation, 62.

  "Terence's Fireside," 115.

  "Thrashers," The, 42.

  "Times" Forgeries Commission, 207, 246.

  Tollymore Park, seat of Lord Roden, 45.

  Tribal names still in tribal lands, 27, 273.

  "Tribe of Brian," 28.

  Tragedy of the Famine, The, 6.


  U.

  Ulster Catholics, the most pure-blooded Celts in Ireland, 30.

  Ulster, plantation of in King James I.'s time, 39.

  "United Ireland," attempted suppression, 210.
  ----sent out as "dried fish," 212.
  ----not an issue missed, 215.
  ----I am prosecuted by Government, 216.
  ----printed once in Derry, 217.
  ----re-appeared in old office, 218.

  Union of North and South destroyed, 61.

  "United Irishman," organ of Home Rule Confederation of
  --Great Britain, 177, 181, 265.

  United Irishmen of 1798, 11, 41.


  V.

  Vaughan, Cardinal, Bishop of Salford, I get his support for
  --"Catholic Times," 158.

  Vauxhall Ward, Liverpool, 185.

  Volunteers of 1782, The, 41.

  "Vatican, The Treasures of," 61.



  W.

  Walsh, John, informs a select gathering how he and a friend from this
  --side helped to rescue the military Fenians, 143.

  Warders from Belle Vue Prison interfere in the Manchester
  --Rescue--no use, 101.

  Ward, Joseph, 121.

  Widow Walsh welcomes her lodgers at the Curragh of Kildare, 66.

  Whitty, Michael James, Liverpool head Constable, afterwards editor
  --of the "Daily Post," 20, 21, 22, 91.

  Wilson, James, escaped military Fenian, 141.

  Wilson, John, a Birmingham gunsmith, 136.

  Windle, Dr. Bertram, President of University College, Cork, 177.

  Wiseman, Cardinal, "Papal aggression" mania directed against him, 63.
  ----his fine play of "The Hidden Gem" given by Father Nugent's students
  ----at the Catholic Institute, Liverpool, 63.

  Wolohan, Michael, the "blockade runner" for "United Ireland," 212.

  "Woollen Goods" (for "United Ireland"), 213.


  Y.

  "Young Ireland," 11, 52.





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