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THE RISE OF THE PHOENIX

In 1853 O’Donovan Rossa married Nora Eager, from Milltown, County Kerry, and coming into some money, he rented a shop and house from Mortimer Dowling in Skibbereen.1 Continuing Dowling’s trade of agricultural seeds and hardware, his new business was a commercial success and was supported by local farmers. Settling into married life, Jeremiah and Nora had four children: Denis, John, Cornelius and Jeremiah. For all means and purposes, O’Donovan Rossa was by now following the path of a well-to-do businessman who was providing for his family. He had also established a good reputation in Skibbereen as a local bard, writing what was termed skellig lists, a popular tradition of writing scurrilous and satirical verses. Within three years of opening his shop and getting married, O’Donovan Rossa began correspondence with John O’Donovan, a professor of the Irish language, editor of the famed Annals of the Four Masters, and a noted antiquarian living at No. 36 Northumberland Street, Dublin. O’Donovan Rossa was familiar with the stories of his family’s Celtic roots, with his father often using the nickname ‘Rossa’ in reference to the family’s perceived Celtic roots in the Rossmore area of Cork. O’Donovan had suggested that Jeremiah O’Donovan’s family were direct descendants of the MacAinee branch of the O’Donovan dynasty, and from this he adopted the name ‘Rossa’ to signify his family’s Celtic lineage.2

In 1856, O’Donovan Rossa became a founding member of the Phoenix National and Literary Society. This would chart the beginning of a revolutionary career that would span over fifty years. The society represented the culmination of several individuals with the common aim of the liberation of Ireland by force of arms. It had been founded in the home of Jeremiah Crowley, a chemist, at North Street, Skibbereen. Initially, it closely resembled a debating society and social outlet for Irish nationalists to discuss revolutionary ideas and Irish history and culture. It was not originally a revolutionary body. The preamble of the Phoenix Society read:

For years past, since 1848 particularly, the people of Ireland have been looked upon as having silently acquiesced in their position as a conquered province, and having given up all idea of a national existence, apart from that of England, the desire for independence and self-government is thought to have been completely trodden out, or to be restricted to a few ‘mere enthusiasts’.

To show, as far as in us lies, the fallacy of this opinion; to advocate and assert our right to a distinct national existence; to make the peasantry in our own locality, at least, understand that for them exists but one country which they are bound to love, and cherish, and defend; to make them understand their rights as men; to combat against the widely spread and corrupt leprosy of Imperialism; and to foster and rouse into action the latent spirit of nationality, are the first and most immediate objects of this society.

Impressed with the conviction that, to be free, a nation must be enlightened, it shall be with us an object to which every energy will be devoted; to place within the reach of the members of this Society a national literature of the purest and best description; to afford them every useful information connected with the past, and a knowledge of what they are justly entitled to for the future – so that they may ponder on their present degraded position, contrast it with that of various other nations inferior to Ireland in extent, population, and resources; and make it their constant aim and labour to regain those rights which have been, and are, forcibly and unjustly withheld. By this Society an effort will be made for the establishment of the same or similar Societies throughout the country; and, as far as its own immediate influence extends, to found branch Societies, which, if not taking the same name and title, shall, at least, keep in view objects similar to those here stated.3

Those who had joined the Phoenix Society were frightened by the state of Ireland in the aftermath of the Famine and the disastrous failure of the 1848 Rebellion. According to O’Donovan Rossa, representative of this feeling of malaise, he had suggested the name of the society so as to represent a mythical bird, the Phoenix, famed for its ability to rise from the ashes. In proposing the name for the society he recalled how ‘Ireland was dead, but from the ashes of her martyred nationality she should phoenix-like, arise again.’4 It was evident that within his political thinking the name was chosen as a metaphorical symbol for Ireland and the potential for rebellion in the aftermath of famine. The society grew throughout West Cork and into Kerry, its members consisting of those who were nationally minded and disaffected with the nature of British rule in Ireland. The organisation was not secretive and regular meetings were held in Morty Dowling’s pub. Dowling was a prominent member of the society, and the pub was only three doors down from the Constabulary barracks. Dowling had even written to the local Constabulary asking them whether he was ‘acting illegally in renting a room to the literary society who sit after hours’.5 Marking the anniversary of the foundation of the Phoenix Society in 1858 O’Donovan Rossa even made a public speech, which was printed by the Dundalk Democrat newspaper. In it he commended the concept of Irish independence and the threat of force, and announced in a provocative manner that:

We Irishmen are slaves and outcasts in the land of our birth. What a shame! What a disgrace! Yes; disgraceful alike to peer and peasant – Protestant, Catholic and Presbyterian. Thus may foreign nations believe this country is not ours, and I am sure you will not be surprised that England is particularly positive on this point. She has made all possible efforts to convince us of it. She has broken the heads of many Irishmen trying to hammer this opinion into them. For seven long and dreary centuries has she been trying to force it on us; and against her during all this time the majority of Irishmen protested. Yet has she disregarded every protestation, every claim, and every petition, and instead of treating us as human beings or subjects, she has made every effort that pen, fire and sword could make to extirpate our race.6

At the same time that the Phoenix Society was developing in the south, a new constitutional initiative was beginning to emerge in London. This new initiative sought to address the Irish Question within Parliament and seize the potential of establishing an independent Irish party at Westminster to use the power of moral persuasion to force British politicians to consider Irish political issues. Known as the Tenants’ Rights League, and founded by Charles Gavin Duffy, this organisation had actively fought a campaign both within and outside the British Parliament to achieve better rights on the land for tenant farmers and oppose the introduction of an Ecclesiastical Titles Bill, making it a criminal offence for Roman Catholics to use episcopal titles within the United Kingdom outside of the Anglican Church. Two of the strongest opponents of this bill were William Keogh and John Sadlier, who had pledged never to take any office in the British government until the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill was revoked and the British government made laws favourable to Ireland. Both Keogh and Sadlier reneged on these pledges and soon took office within the government as Solicitor General and Lord of the Treasury respectively. With their defection, the Tenants’ Rights League was greatly weakened and as others followed, the potential to establish an independent Irish party in the British Parliament floundered. Many advanced nationalists, including O’Donovan Rossa, looked at the failure of the Tenants’ Rights League and were convinced that no political concessions for Ireland could be won from the British Parliament. They also shared a common perception, as represented by Keogh and Sadlier that the election of Irishmen to Westminster would only serve to corrupt Irish interests and political representatives rather than advance the cause of Irish nationalism. There arose from this perception a belief that nothing but force or the threat of force could make the British government consider Irish political grievances. This perception was widely shared within the ranks of the Phoenix Society and became a foundation stone in their growing commitment to advanced Irish nationalism, and their desire to co-operate with others of a similar opinion.7

Parallel to the rise of the Phoenix Society in West Cork, in 1858 several former Young Irelanders had met in Lombard Street, Dublin, including James Stephens, Thomas Clarke Luby, Joseph Denieffe and Peter Langan. Here they founded a secret, oath-bound revolutionary movement called the Brotherhood. James Stephens became the autocratic leader of the Brotherhood, earning the official title of Chief Organiser of the Irish Republic. James Stephens was the sole director of Fenian policy and strategy; the entire direction of the movement was left to his sole arbitration. In this regard, Stephens jealously held the reins of power within the burgeoning movement and no one, not even those within his inner council, was allowed to share power and authority. In effect everyone, even those with whom he was closely associated, represented a perceived threat to his leadership and strategy. Later becoming known as the Irish Revolutionary Brotherhood, and then Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB), this organisation was to function as a secret, clandestine, oath-bound society dedicated to the organisation of a rebellion in Ireland.

In this endeavour the IRB was to be supported by an American Auxiliary known as the Fenian Brotherhood. While both of these organisations were organised independently of each other, they would become popularly known as the Fenians. This new organisation was conceived in New York by a circle of 1848 Rebellion veterans organised in the Emmet Monument Association centred around John O’Mahony, Michael Doheny and Joseph Denieffe. It was Denieffe who had originally made contact in Ireland with existing veterans of the 1848 Rebellion and started a process of revolutionary reorganisation. As part of a process of organising the movement, Stephens, with Thomas Clarke Luby, made a tour of every principle town and village in Ireland to meet like-minded individuals and establish the revolutionary society on a secure footing. Visiting West Cork, Stephens was determined to make the acquaintance of the Phoenix National and Literary Society. He considered the body to be a well-established organisation and could be amiable to a merger with the IRB. Arriving in Skibbereen in May 1858, one of Stephens’ first recruits to the IRB was O’Donovan Rossa, who actively worked on recruiting for the organisation and establishing an oath-bound network in West Cork amongst men of trusted opinions. Explaining his routine, O’Donovan Rossa recalled how he would drive to a chapel every Sunday morning with other IRB men and attend Mass and afterwards ‘get into conversation with the trustworthy men of the place, and we generally planted the seed of our mission there’.8 In his recollections he noted how he loved the thrill of recruiting in West Cork and knowing many of the people in the district, he was well trusted by those who he swore into the conspiracy. According to a fellow Fenian, John Devoy, O’Donovan Rossa was one of the most gifted of the Fenian organisers and during this time ‘began to sacrifice himself, his family and his interests at the very inception of the movement, and he continued to do it to his last conscious hour’.9 Such was the growth of the IRB within West Cork that Rossa recollected: ‘We were not long working when a great change was noticeable in the temper of the people. In the cellars, in the woods, and on the hillsides, we had our men drilling in the night time, and wars and rumours of wars were on the wings of the wind.’10

As part of the merging of the Phoenix Society with the IRB it was understood that the American Auxiliary, the Fenian Brotherhood, would provide arms and military instructors to the men in West Cork. True to the agreement between the IRB and the Phoenix Society, by October 1858 an Irish-American officer, Colonel P. J. Dowling, had arrived in Skibbereen to train the Phoenix men in styles of warfare and combat. Each evening under the moonlight, and protected by sentries, O’Donovan Rossa and his colleagues would climb mountains or make for forests and woods to drill and practice military formation under Dowling’s tuition. Here they would drill with pikes, guns and other weapons in preparation for the IRB ambition of revolution. Each member was trained in the use of a rifle, and part of their drilling would involve rifle practice, while those who could not afford to pay arms would pay one shilling per week to eventually get an advance on arms from a senior officer.11 As the training progressed O’Donovan Rossa was more confident of the imminence of insurrection – he was increasingly self-assured by being a member of the IRB, a figure in a movement that would inevitably strike a blow for rebellion. The West Cork Fenians had also come to believe that the rebellion would be a clean fight between the entire country and the British Army; they had James Stephens’ personal assurances that within the Irish Republic, ‘landlordism would be abolished and every man would be his own landlord’.12

Despite the security precautions taken, the West Cork drillings had come to the notice of the Irish Constabulary, who increasingly began to monitor the individuals taking part. Internal police correspondence indicates that the local constabulary were growing anxious as to the activities of the Phoenix men. Sub-Inspector Mason of the local Skibbereen police, making internal investigations of their activities, believed the society to be ‘strongly disaffected’, and ‘a revival of the Young Ireland party of 1848’.13 One of Mason’s senior officials recommended that the best way of dealing with the Phoenix Society was ‘to be vigilant in watching their movements and proceedings of the society and ascertain if possible the nature of the oath and find some person who will dispose to it and the individuals concerned in administering it’.14 They received confirmation from a former member, Robert Cusack, that the Phoenix Society was oath-bound. Police believed the oath to be:

I [NAME] to sincerely swear in the presence of God that I renounce all allegiance to the Queen of England and that I will yield implicit obedience to the commands of my superiors and that I will keep secret regarding this brotherhood. That I will take up arms and fight at a moment’s warning and finally that I take this oath without any mental reservation. So help me God.15

Examining the validity of this oath, police discovered that there was no set oath as such, but confirming that Cusack’s recollection of an oath was correct, police discovered the following verse, which Cusack had omitted: ‘That I will do my upmost at any risk to make Ireland an independent Democratic Republic.’16

Sub Inspector Mason, rather ominously, warned Dublin Castle that ‘the society is spreading. Not long ago they did not number over a dozen in the town and are now over 100, it is also spreading in the country.’17 F. J. Davies, a Royal Magistrate at Bantry, wrote to Dublin Castle of a system of intimidation with a base in Skibbereen ‘endeavouring to coerce persons to join the Phoenix Society’.18 Consolidating this report, at Bantry, Sub-Inspector Caulfield, on the basis of an informant’s information, warned of a conspiracy with access to widespread rifles and pikes. His information had warned that the Phoenix Society was committed to an uprising and when the time would come, ‘police barracks would be first attacked and if the men gave up their arms they would not be injured, but if not they would be severely dealt with’.19 The weapons he spoke of were supposedly purchased by ‘a considerable sum of money’ collected in America.20 In this regard the local police were convinced that:

The object of the Phoenix Society is to keep alive a spirit of hatred to the British Crown and government. [It] was formed under the direct of and is in close communication with a similar one in America which supplies funds. [They] are making every exertion to procure arms and are having pikes made.21

According to the police network, Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa was the ringleader of the Phoenix Society and needed close observation.22 He was officially regarded as ‘one of the strictest members at Skibbereen’.23 Relying on the statement of Robert Cusack, police could establish O’Donovan Rossa’s recruiting role in the society, with Cusack recalling that:

About the middle of April Jeremiah O’Donovan (Rossa) and McCarty or Carte called in a covered car for Cusack and took him to Clonakilty, where they collected a number of tradesmen, had drink and swore them in. It was supposed this was the beginning of society in Clonakilty.24

These constabulary reports were forwarded to the government, and new Resident Magistrate, George Fitzmaurice, was purposely sent down from the North to monitor their activities, taking residence in Skibbereen in December. Having interviewed the local constabulary and magistrates, Fitzmaurice expressed his desire to put down secret societies in Cork. Upon arrival it had been recommended to him that he should enforce crime and outrage acts against the Phoenix Society or introduce a proclamation offering a large reward for information. Fitzmaurice was against both and insisted that if he could get someone within the movement to act as a spy, to give him regular information and break the movement from within, ‘he would take care of him’.25

One of these informers that Fitzmaurice began to ‘take care of’ was Dan O’Sullivan Goula, a process server originally from Kenmare, who had been sworn into the movement in August 1858. O’Sullivan Goula had moved from County Kerry to Skibbereen where he took rooms in Morty Dowling’s pub. Befriending Dowling, O’Sullivan Goula quickly joined the Skibbereen Phoenix men. He was placed within the movement at the behest of George Fitzmaurice to gather intelligence as to who the society consisted of, what it was doing and where they would meet. Parallel to the work of Fitzmaurice and O’Sullivan Goula, the new Resident Magistrate also moved in extra police to the locality in preparation for moving against the Phoenix Society.26 Rossa recollected how he regularly met with Goula and saw him playing with Dowling’s children, and in hindsight recalled how this endearing man entertaining his friends’ children was actually engaged in swearing Dowling and his comrades into jail. Parallel to official concern as to the activities of the Phoenix Society, there was growing recognition within the local Catholic clergy that something was afoot in the community. The Catholic Church had steadfastly opposed all secret societies and forms of oath taking, particularly in Skibbereen where the Eucharist had been politicised and men known to the clergy of being active in the Phoenix Society were in some cases refused the sacrament of Eucharist and absolution from confession unless they renounced their oath.

At Caheragh, County Cork, the parish priest, Fr David Dore, threatened his congregation with excommunication from the Catholic Church if they took an oath to the Phoenix Society. A police constable in attendance at the sermon noted how Dore was an energetic opponent of secret conspiracy, exclaiming how it was ‘folly to try and separate Ireland from England’.27 In nearby Kerry, at Listowel, the Rev. McCormick ‘told his flock to hand over to Police anyone who might ask them to be sworn’.28 At Kenmare, Fr John O’Sullivan was of a similar opinion and regularly denounced the Phoenix Society and any ambition to lead a rising against Britain. In one powerful sermon, O’Sullivan denounced the ambition of revolution and conspiracy, holding that ‘the laws of England are better than those of France’.29 So powerful were his sermons against secret conspiracy that a Phoenix man came to him to confess that he had taken an oath. Learning from the communicant in the confessional that the Phoenix Society was now being organised as a secret, oath-bound society, O’Sullivan informed Dublin Castle of what he understood to be an extensive conspiracy, telling them that he had the names of men involved and the oaths they had taken. These oaths were forwarded on to Dublin Castle, with the names of what he termed ‘misguided young men’.30 On 3 December 1858 Dublin Castle issued a proclamation acknowledging the danger posed by secret societies. Such was the extent of the government’s determination to undermine secret societies, that the state offered a reward of £100 for information leading to the conviction of individuals who had administered oaths. The substantial reward was consolidated by an offer of £50 for the arrest of anyone who was proven to be a member of a secret society.31

Aside from his political activity, O’Donovan Rossa had applied to become the Skibbereen postmaster in November 1858. His interest in the job had been spurred by the former postmaster, Owen Leonard, who, after an administrative error, was forced to resign his position. Writing an application to the British government, it was evident that he did not take the job seriously and wrote a poem to Lord Colchester, the Post Master General. In his application to Colchester, he stated in verse:

I trust I’ll meet with no disaster,

Till you address me as postmaster,

Excuse my Lord, the wish most fervent,

I have to be your lordships servant!32

O’Donovan Rossa received a curt response stating that the position was not yet open for recruitment. By 6 December 1858, George Fitzmaurice had made up his mind to move against the Phoenix Society and arrest all of those suspected of active membership in the organisation. Fitzmaurice and F.J. Davies, the Resident Magistrate at Bantry, agreed that the arrests of the Phoenix men were to take place simultaneously, and in a major blow to the morale of the organisation, were to take place in Kerry, Bantry and Skibbereen.33 The arrests were spurred by a police report from a Sub-Inspector Curling, stationed at Kenmare, who claimed that 300 pikes had been smuggled into Skibbereen and were passed to leading figures within the Phoenix Society. According to the Sub-Inspector, the pikes were to be followed by arms and were going to be distributed throughout neighbouring Bantry, Glengarrif and Kenmare. The following morning at 4 a.m., police stormed O’Donovan Rossa’s home, and from memory he wrote that:

I went to bed and was soon aroused from sleep by a thundering knocking at the hall door. When it was opened a dozen policemen rushed in and took charge of me and everyone in the house. Then every room was ransacked for papers, and for everything contraband of war – contraband of peace, I may say. I stood in the drawing room under arrest. The sergeant-in-command was smashing the drawers of the chiffonier in search of documents. My wife rushed toward him, crying out not to break the drawers, as she would get the keys. He rudely shoved her away.34

A family friend, Tom O’Shea, had been staying in the house that evening and with O’Donovan Rossa was arrested on suspicion of being involved with the Phoenix Society. O’Shea had no involvement with the Phoenix Society, but was incredibly superstitious and held a great fear of fairies; he had been too afraid to go home that evening, for fear of a fairy puck at nearby Steam Mill Cross and so O’Donovan Rossa had allowed him to stay at his house for the night. O’Shea and Rossa were taken to the local police barracks where they were greeted by several Phoenix men including, John Stack, P. J. Dowling, Timothy Duggan, Morty Dowling, William O’Shea and Dan McCartie. McCartie had been due to leave Skibbereen the following day to start a new job in a brewery in Galway.35 Held in Skibbereen Barracks until mid-morning, they were then escorted by individual policemen through Roscarbery and Clonakilty to Bandon, County Cork. The Freeman’s Journal reported that on leaving Skibbereen by three train coaches, and under heavy police escort, the prisoners were cheered and applauded by spectators, with the prisoners themselves joining in the cheering and calling upon the crowd to be louder.36 Arriving in Bandon at 7 p.m., O’Donovan Rossa met Jerrie and Pat Cullinane, William O’Shea and Denis O’Sullivan, who had all been arrested at Bantry as part of the investigations into the Phoenix Society.37 O’Donovan Rossa despondently recalled how the conditions at Bantry, prior to their removal to Cork, were horrendous, and ‘arriving at nine in the evening we were huddled into cells flooded with water. Having travelled all day under rain, and having received neither food nor drink, we now would get neither bread nor a bed. Next morning we found ourselves in Cork Jail, awaiting prosecution on charges of conspiracy’.38 Following on from the Cork arrests, police raided the homes of several advanced nationalists in Killarney, arresting Denis O’Shea, Patrick Hennessy, Jeremiah Sullivan, Patrick Sullivan, Valentine Browne, Thomas Neary, Timothy Leary, Thomas Leahy and Thomas Sullivan. Two additional men in Killarney, Daniel O’Sullivan, a schoolteacher in possession of an incriminating letter, and Florence O’Sullivan, later consolidated these arrests. In Belfast a great stir was occasioned as a final batch of arrests was made against several Ribbonmen, whom the media wrongly believed were implicated in the Phoenix society.

In Cork Jail each of the Phoenix men were separated and treated as ordinary prisoners by being given menial tasks common to Victorian prison life. This included oakum picking, the rather laborious chore of unravelling old tarred rope in fibre. What made this work more odious to the Phoenix men was that they were not convicted prisoners. O’Donovan Rossa and his co-conspirators had been detained without trial and were yet to receive one. For two weeks of their imprisonment there had been no charges against any of the men and protesting to the prison authorities, their pronouncements were ignored – they were bluntly told that unless they could pay for their own maintenance within the prison, they would have to work. O’Donovan Rossa resolved to work and endure the rigours of life in Cork jail. Increasingly, however, as the mundane and lethargic hours of jail life crept by, he was growing evermore despondent and his resolution to ‘suffer and be strong’39 was weakening:

Some of the detained arranged to get their own food, but the rest of us thought that we would inure ourselves to hardship. But we could not eat the fare we got; and this, with the solitary confinement imposed, starved us out of our resolution ‘to suffer and be strong.’ The bread was made with rye/wheat flour; it had the appearance of brown turf and you could squeeze the water out of it. The porridge, about the same colour, was flavoured with leeks, which made it disgusting, for when you drew your spoon out of the bowl you would draw up one of those foot-long leeks, and unless you had gone through a course of starvation your stomach would refuse to receive the product as food.40

With the Phoenix men imprisoned at Cork Jail, George Fitzmaurice instructed police to co-operate with local post offices to intercept the mail of the imprisoned men. This order was compounded by a further dictate that the correspondence of their solicitor, Timothy McCarthy Dowling, was also to be secretly opened and copied by police. Fitzmaurice had evidently sought to establish a clandestine means of cumulative evidence to prove that the Phoenix prisoners were guilty of revolutionary conspiracy. All of this was inadmissible in court, however. To strengthen the case against the Phoenix prisoners, Fitzmaurice now extracted Dan O’Sullivan Goula from the conspiracy, and the informant emerged within a fortnight of the arrests in Cork Jail, accompanied by Sir

Matthew Barrington, Crown Solicitor. O’Sullivan Goula identified all of the prisoners as members of a secret society and claimed that they had been intent on leading a rebellion in Ireland against Britain. Recalling a visit to Skibbereen on the 5 December 1858, O’Sullivan Goula placed O’Donovan Rossa, Morty Dowling, Tim Duggan, Denis Downing, Morty Moynahan, Pat Dowling, Daniel McCarthy and William O’Shea at a Phoenix Society meeting in a back room in Morty Dowling’s pub. Furthering this accusation, O’Sullivan Goula told Barrington that he had personally witnessed the prisoners drilling in military formation with swords and canes, led by McCarthy and O’Donovan Rossa.41 Morty Moynahan was a regular driller of men, and with almost forensic precision, O’Sullivan Goula recalled how Moynahan would order the men to ‘fall in line’,42 and march like regular soldiers. O’Donovan Rossa was more of a strict drill master, and in O’Sullivan Goula’s narrative O’Donovan Rossa had, in his presence, drilled some 300 men in Skibbereen. Once again O’Sullivan Goula identified the Phoenix men as actively drilling in West Cork, and claimed to have taken and administered two oaths to several individuals, swearing them into the revolutionary movement. While not producing any written oath as evidence, he verbally cited the oath as:

I_____ do solemnly swear that I will, to the utmost of my power, endeavour to subvert and overthrow the British government; that I will join and assist any foreign army who may arrive in this country with that object, and that I will obey and carry out the orders of my superiors to the best of my ability.43

Each of the Phoenix prisoners denied this oath and continued to argue that O’Sullivan Goula was lying on behalf of the state to secure convictions. O’Sullivan Goula next swore of a meeting which took place on the rural border between Cork and Kerry, where he had heard talk of American and French intervention designed to make Ireland ‘an Independent Republic’.44 The prisoners, particularly O’Donovan Rossa, strenuously denied his claims to Barrington, insisting that the informer was lying. Recalling Sullivan Goula’s performance in his later years, O’Donovan Rossa angrily remembered:

O’Sullivan Goula was brought among us, and there he stood shivering, side by side with the man who had been honoured with England’s knighthood [Sir Matthew Barrington]. Tim Duggan was moving up close to the informer, the informer complained to Sir Matthew that the prisoner was looking threateningly at him and asked to be taken into another room till his evidence was required. Sir Matthew sent for extra police; they came and stood between Goula and the prisoners. No matter how bad and wicked a character I may be considered now, the adoration I received in youth was a moral and religious one. I had not till then realized the possibility that any man would go on a witness table, kiss the Book, invent a pack of lies and deliberately swear they were the truth, and do all this to put into jail and keep them there, men who never did him, or anyone belonging to him, hurt or harm. But there was that Goula before me, deliberately swearing that he saw me drilling three hundred men one night, and swearing to other things against me which he never saw and which I never did. All pure invention of his own; all false swearing. But no; it was not invention of his; the invention was Fitzmaurice’s and Sir Matthew Barrington’s. They had made up their minds to fasten their irons well on me, and they had made up the informer for the work.45

Under British law, however, despite what O’Donovan Rossa suggested, the word of an informer was not, strictly speaking, admissible in any future trials. Considering the informer was paid by the state and had offered to give information leading to the conviction of the Phoenix prisoners, witnesses were required to corroborate his narrative. Fitzmaurice now eagerly sought to elucidate a confession from the Phoenix prisoners; none could be found, however, to give evidence. O’Donovan Rossa remembered, for the benefit of an American newspaper, how:

The usual English tactics were resorted to for the purpose of weakening some of us and getting us to become informers on others to save ourselves. A warder would see me, pretend to be a secret sympathiser with me, tell me something very confidential, caution me for my life not to breathe a word of it to anyone unless I wanted to effect his ruin; thou he’d come next day and repeat confidence again, and by and by he’d whisper something very suspicious of the prisoner in the next corridor: ‘Did I know him well?’ ‘Was I sure of him?’ ‘Could there be anything wrong about him?’ or ‘Was he in a position to do much harm if it could turn out that he was bad?’ Then it would very confidentially transpire that that prisoner in the next corridor was day after day being taken to the Governor’s private room and having interviews with detective[s] and other agents of the English Government.46

A search was also made for impeccable witnesses, including policemen, to testify that the Phoenix men were engaged in active conspiracy and military drilling. The state had great difficulty in securing witnesses amongst the ordinary people of Skibbereen as the community remained remarkably tight-lipped as to the activities of the Phoenix men. This meant that the prosecution of the Phoenix men was more reliant on the evidence of informers supported by police statements. One of these policemen testified in the Magistrates Court that he had seen one of the men, Denis Dowling, out marching in military formation in Skibbereen. Pressed by McCarthy Dowling as to who was seen marching with Denis Dowling, the policeman was forced to admit that Dowling was in fact on his own, and therefore could not have been marching in military formation. The Phoenix men arrested and examined in Cork Jail were released on bail following their inquisition. Only O’Donovan Rossa, William O’Shea and Morty Moynahan were to remain in prison on remand. While the trials were taking place, George Fitzmaurice was actively working behind the scenes to secure a conviction of the Phoenix prisoners. He had grounded this in a perception that the government needed to act firmly with the society, considering they had the potential to work up further conspiracy in Skibbereen.47 Explaining to Dublin Castle the reality of the situation on the ground, he anxiously wrote:

There is, however, the greatest possible feeling of sympathy evidenced here for the parties in custody which daily impresses upon my mind more fully the great necessity there was for the measures resorted to by the government for the suppression of the society… If such had not been so timely done this county as well as many others in Ireland would be by this time in a bad state.48

The first of the Phoenix men to be tried was Daniel O’Sullivan, one of the arrested Kerry men. Tried at the Kerry Assizes on Thursday 10 March 1859 for conspiracy, he was sentenced to ten years of imprisonment and moved to Mountjoy Jail, Dublin. Florence O’Sullivan, who had been arrested with him, had earlier confessed to the police that he had been recruited into the society by Daniel O’Sullivan and was aware of ‘an organisation in course of formation throughout the length and breadth of our island, having for its object the restoration of Ireland to freedom under the form of a Republican government or a repeal of the Union by force of arms’.49 Within a week, on 17 March 1859, O’Donovan Rossa, Morty Moynahan, Daniel McCarthy, William O’Shea, Denis O’Sullivan and Patrick Dowling were due to attend the Cork Assizes. In preparation for the case against the Phoenix men, the state had made an offer to McCarthy Dowling suggesting that if the prisoners pleaded guilty to conspiracy at the Assizes they would be released on assurances of good behaviour with no further charges pressed against them. The Phoenix men refused on account of the imprisonment of Dan Sullivan in Tralee and remained insistent that the informer, O’Sullivan Goula, was lying; any guilty plea would only consolidate O’Sullivan Goula’s series of events and be detrimental for Dan Sullivan and the men whom he had been arrested with in Kerry. O’Donovan Rossa recounted the events:

Goula had sworn against a number of men in Kerry, too, and several of them were indicted for trial at the Kerry Assizes in Tralee. The Tralee Assizes were to come on before the Cork Assizes, and the Kerry men were to be tried before our trial would come on. Propositions were made to us that if we formally pleaded ‘guilty,’ we would be released on our own recognizances, but this we refused to do. Our prosecutors know that all Goula swore against us was false; they knew we could break down his evidence in public court; our pleading guilty would be admitting a guilt we did not feel, would be putting a kind of brand of truth on the informer’s lies and would be periling the safety of the Kerry men. Our attorney approved of our action; he submitted the proposal as made to him, without any advice of his own, and now that we had decided, he was glad we viewed the matter correctly and came to the decision he desired. On his way to the Kerry Assizes he visited us in jail and told us to be in good cheer, that he had evidence secured, which would be produced at Tralee, showing that Goula was swearing falsely in matters connected with the Kerry men, too; that Father John O’Sullivan, of Kenmare, was to come on the witness table in Tralee and swear Goula was a perjurer. Goula swore that before he became informer he had been at confession with Father O’Sullivan, and Father O’Sullivan was coming forward to swear he had never been at confession with him.50

Despite the assurances of Timothy McCarthy Dowling, their solicitor, Fr John O’Sullivan, who had earlier been instrumental in the arrest of the Phoenix men, would stand as a witness against O’Sullivan Goula, Fr O’Sullivan did not act as a witness. On learning that Daniel O’Sullivan was sentenced to ten years in Mountjoy Jail, O’Donovan Rossa was infuriated with McCarthy Dowling. He demanded to know why Fr John O’Sullivan had not been called forward as a witness to denounce O’Sullivan Goula. While initially coy as to why he did not bring Fr Sullivan forward, McCarthy Dowling later revealed Fr Sullivan’s part in the arrests and his correspondence with Dublin Castle. McCarthy Dowling then told O’Donovan Rossa that Sir Matthew Barrington and George Fitzmaurice had threatened Sullivan with fears of exposure of his correspondence should he take the witness stand against O’Sullivan Goula. Furious, O’Donovan Rossa castigated of Fr. Sullivan, and the Catholic Church:

A pleasant thing it would be for peoples if they could get their rights from those who lord a mastery over them by the force of prayer and petition; if I could enjoy that pleasure of believing Ireland could gain her rights by each force, I would keep praying till doomsday before I would hurt the hair of a head of English man or woman. Yes, let the expression stand, ‘till doomsday,’ because till doomsday the praying should last before Ireland could be free.51

At the Assizes trial on 17 March 1859, O’Donovan Rossa was greeted by the face of Judge William Keogh, the former nationalist who crossed the floor to support the British government.

The 17th of March St. Patrick’s day, 1859, came on and Cork Assizes opened. We were ready for trial. William O’Shea, Mortimer Moynahan and I were brought from the prison to the Court House and escorted to the underground waiting room, convenient to the dock. Here we were visited by our attorney and counsel and counsel for the Crown, and propositions were made to us that if we pleaded guilty we would be let free, a mere formal recognizance of our own personal security for twenty pounds to appear when called would be taken, and that would be the last heard of the prosecution. We would not plead guilty and by and by we were led into the dock. On the bench before us sat the famous, or the infamous, Judge Keogh. Into the dock also came Patrick J. Downing, Morty Downing and Denis O’Sullivan, who had been out on bail. They brought some shamrocks into the dock with them and gave us some sprigs of the national emblem and we put them in the buttonholes of our coats. We were ready for trial, ready for fight, but no fight came. England’s Attorney General stood up and asked for a postponement of those cases till the next assizes, as the Crown was not fully prepared at the present. Our counsel opposed the motion of postponement, but Judge Keogh did not seem to care much for the opposition; he granted the motion of the Attorney General and ordered the prisoners to be put back till the next assizes in August. Our counsel applied that we be let out on bail. No, Judge Keogh decided that we be kept in without bail; and off, back to prison, we were taken. It was vexatious, but what were we to do? The stone walls were there around us, but it was no use to us knocking our heads against them. There was no case on which to prosecute us, no informers to swear against us – even the unfortunate fallen women of the streets would not come forward to swear they saw us out at night, and so corroborate the swearing of Goula regarding the nightly drillings. We were offered our liberty, and would not take it. Some of our people had no pity for us; they never considered what we considered, that one of our men, Daniel O’Sullivan Agreem, had been convicted and sentenced to ten years’ transportation on Sullivan Goula’s swearing and that our pleading ‘Guilty’ to get out free would confirm his sentence and put the brand of truth on what Goula swore.52

Once again, all the prisoners earlier released on bail were free to leave the court, while O’Donovan Rossa, Morty Moynahan and William O’Shea, despite application for bail were returned to Cork Jail to resume their imprisonment.

O’Donovan Rossa relieved himself of the mundane life of the Victorian prison system by increasingly turning to satire. In one of his lesser known satirical writings he sought permission from the prison authorities to write to the Lord Lieutenant, the Earl of Eglington, to demand his right to vote during the 1859 general election. While this letter was seen as appropriate, its contents were entirely tongue-in-cheek. O’Donovan Rossa wrote that it was his civic duty to be temporarily released so he could be returned to Skibbereen and vote for Lord Derby’s Conservative Party. His justification for this demand was that if he did not vote he feared his absence could be the catalyst for a European war, considering Lord Derby’s support for the concert of Europe and the peaceful balance of power within the continent. O’Donovan Rossa sardonically suggested that if allowed to vote, his candidate could keep Lord Derby in office and thus prevent conflict:

Need I remind your lordship how unconstitutional it would be to deprive an innocent man of his voice in this important crisis; and, such a deprivation of right may entail the most disastrous results. For instance, my lord, my support may be instrumental in returning an honourable and independent man to the Imperial Parliament; the support of this honourable and independent man may be instrumental in maintaining Lord Derby in office, and the retention of Lord Derby in office may be the means for preventing the shedding of oceans of blood, by affording him the time and opportunity for bringing the troublous affairs of Europe to a speedy and pacific conclusion; whereas, opposite and most disastrous results may follow from my inability to attend the poles… In counting up the Liberal and Derbyite gains and losses, we must admit at least that Lord Derby, through adverse circumstances, lost one ardent supporter, and if war follows his lordships resignation, we shall remember this new prophet Jeremiah…53

The Lord Lieutenant did not reply and O’Donovan Rossa remained in Cork Jail. As predicted by O’Donovan Rossa, Lord Derby lost the general election. The boredom of life in Cork Jail was finally relieved when McCarthy Dowling returned to the prisoners to inform them that their trial had been moved to the Cork Summer Assizes, taking place on 26 July 1858. McCarthy Dowling was increasingly worried, however, that the prisoners would be kept in jail without charge until 1860, and making applications on behalf of his clients, the state once again offered terms. Under the states’ proposal, if the prisoners pleaded guilty to the charges levelled against them they would at once be released on their own assurances of good behaviour. Having approached the prisoners with this deal for their consideration, soon after, their solicitor informed them that the state pledged that if they changed their plea to guilty, Dan O’Sullivan would be released from jail on a similar bond of assurance of good behaviour.

The Phoenix prisoners remained stubbornly opposed to pleading guilty at the Summer Assizes; McCarthy Dowling stressed to them that if they failed to change their plea they would not get bail and would remain lodged at Cork Jail. O’Donovan Rossa, Dowling and William O’Shea were allowed to discuss the terms proposed by the state. They remained opposed to pleading guilty, yet they had other interests outside. O’Donovan Rossa in particular was hit hard by his imprisonment and his family were unable to pay debts to creditors. There was also a dispute between his landlord and another man as to who actually owned the home O’Donovan Rossa’s family lived in, forcing his wife and their four children to move into another house. Leaving the decision to O’Donovan Rossa as to how the prisoners were to respond to the state’s offer, Dowling and O’Shea deferred to him. O’Donovan Rossa reluctantly recommended they change their plea. It had been hard for him to come to this decision and he recalled that the Phoenix men outside of the prison had suggested that the IRB was dead, and James Stephens had fled to France in the wake of the Phoenix arrests. Arriving at the Cork Summer Assizes in July 1859, as recommended by O’Donovan Rossa, the Phoenix prisoners agreed to the state’s terms and were released without charge with an understanding that if they continued in conspiracy they would be arrested and imprisoned. To their vexation, despite the state’s offer, Dan O’Sullivan remained imprisoned. O’Donovan Rossa furiously wrote to McCarthy Dowling, accusing the state of reneging on their agreement and threatened to go to the newspapers unless something was immediately done for his imprisoned comrade. It was not until October 1859 that Daniel O’Sullivan was released.

Freed from Cork Jail, O’Donovan Rossa returned home to Skibbereen to a lost family home and a temporary residence. Considering how his name had been heavily publicised in the local newspapers in relation to the Phoenix arrests, and his plea of guilty to charges of conspiracy, the O’Donovan Rossa’s were increasingly ostracised within the local community from all but a loyal gathering of friends and those of similar nationalist opinions. Equally, the landlords, the clergy and the local magistrates used all of their influence to undermine his business within the community and discourage trade. Many of his more wealthy customers who formerly patronised his shop now abandoned his business; he became increasingly reliant on poorer and less well-to-do customers, which affected his income. To carry on his business, in terms of practicalities, his customers would often have to visit his family home when making orders or addressing commercial matters. Following his arrest, however, many of his customers were unwilling to come to his home considering police interest in his activities and a fear of being drawn to the attention of the police. There was also a further practical concern for O’Donovan Rossa: his business traded alcohol, and on each occasion when he sought a licence to trade, the police obstructed it. True to character, O’Donovan Rossa always challenged the police opposition to a renewal of his licence, and putting him to much expense and trouble, he would appeal the decision to not renew his licence to a superior court. On each occasion he won, considering that ‘no charge of keeping an irregular house could be sustained’.54 This continued opposition to the renewal of his alcohol licence represented for O’Donovan Rossa part of what he perceived to be an official ‘system of terrorism,’ designed to subvert his business arising from his political beliefs.55 Symbolically, within his shop, O’Donovan Rossa also chose to display a gun and a pike ostensibly this was to warn off potential thieves or burglars, but in reality was to prove to those interested in advanced nationalism that there was no problem with the owning of a weapon. Considering whom he was, however, and that he had pleaded guilty of conspiracy, he was approached on several occasions by Charles O’Connell, the new Resident Magistrate appointed to replace George Fitzmaurice. O’Connell, despite his position, was representative of the constitutional nationalist persuasion and was married to Kathleen O’Connell, Daniel O’Connell’s daughter. O’Connell had warned O’Donovan Rossa that the gun and pike had to be removed from his shop at once as he was ‘disturbing the community’.56 O’Donovan Rossa protested that their display was not illegal and he would be keeping them above his counter. Pressing O’Connell as to who in the community was protesting against his display, O’Connell explained it caused great alarm to the respectable people in Skibbereen, and that if they were not removed, he would have O’Donovan Rossa brought up for sentence in Court on his plea of guilty the previous year. Displaying his rebellious streak, before ejecting O’Connell from his shop, O’Donovan Rossa angrily exclaimed that: ‘Respectable people are honest people and are in no way afraid of having a rifle or pike in my shop; that it was robbers, and thieves who were afraid of such things and I would not give up my rights for such things.’57

Within days, McCarthy Dowling, O’Donovan Rossa’s solicitor, followed up O’Connell’s visit to the Skibbereen shop. It was apparent to O’Donovan Rossa that O’Connell had been talking with McCarthy Dowling about the rifle and pike display. McCarthy Dowling pleaded with O’Donovan Rossa to take down the offending display and give it to him, where he would keep it in safe possession. O’Donovan Rossa still refused to oblige the request. In fact, in direct contravention to what O’Connell had demanded and what McCarthy Dowling had asked, O’Donovan Rossa and his friend, Tim Duggan, would publicly polish the rifle and pike every Sunday morning outside his shop in a marked display of resistance. O’Connell then dispatched the police to see O’Donovan Rossa and complained that Duggan was not polishing the weapons but showing people how to use them. Warned by the police that a report was being sent to Dublin Castle, and reminding O’Donovan Rossa that he was only released from jail on assurances of good behaviour, the police demanded the rifle and pike to be surrendered at once. Once again, O’Donovan Rossa protested that he was doing no wrong and was legally entitled to carry arms. McCarthy Dowling again pleaded with O’Donovan Rossa to allow him take the rifle and pike and hold it in trust. With increasing pressure from McCarthy Dowling and Resident Magistrate O’Connell, O’Donovan Rossa finally conceded that he would have to surrender his arms. True to form, however, in surrendering these arms, with a friend, William McCarthy, both men marched in military formation through the town to McCarthy Dowling’s home, carrying the weapons. McCarthy had the rifle tied across his shoulder, and O’Donovan Rossa carried the pike. What made the spectacle more surreal was that it was market day in Skibbereen, and the town was thronged with people. Making their appearance in the town centre, the pair was surrounded by bemused and astonished onlookers, O’Donovan Rossa remembered the occasion with pride:

It was market day, and both of us walked through the town, showing the people we could carry arms, making our act of surrender as prideful as possible to our cause, and as disagreeable as it could be to English stipendiaries.58

One of O’Donovan Rossa’s greatest critics was a Dr Michael O’Hea, the Catholic Bishop of Ross. Ironically, O’Hea, while a parish priest, had given O’Donovan Rossa a character reference in his youth, describing him as a ‘smart intelligent young lad’, who was ‘honest and trustworthy’.59 O’Hea became quite vocal in his denunciations of O’Donovan Rossa and the Phoenix Society to the extent that he encouraged his parishioners to boycott the businesses of those involved. According to O’Donovan Rossa, the Bishop of Ross also ‘challenged a man and his wife in the confessional for frequenting’ the O’Donovan Rossa family home.60 The Bishop firmly believed that the O’Donovan Rossas needed to be ostracised within the community less their radicalism spread. Recalling the Bishop of Ross as he tried to rebuild his business, O’Donovan Rossa ironically noted: ‘I am sure he never recognized in the “young lad” to whom he gave that character when he was parish priest the young man who troubled him so much when he was Bishop.’61 The Bishop of Ross need not have concerned himself with the politics of the O’Donovan Rossa family, however, as soon after this, Nora O’Donovan Rossa fell ill and died in 1859. She was not a supporter of her husband’s politics and had serious disagreement with his political activism; and it was speculated that her illness, which remains unknown, was brought on by the stress of her husband’s imprisonment. Her death left O’Donovan Rossa widowed, financially broken and in charge of four young children. Writing to his friend, John O’Donovan, to explain his loss, he received a sympathetic note in return:

You are young and vigorous; and time, the dulce molimen – the soft soother – will finally reduce your grief to a softer sadness. Your imprisonment must have weighed heavily on her spirits. 62

O’Donovan Rossa wrote sparsely about Nora; within his memoirs there is only one paragraph about her death. This is an indication of the grief he experienced following her death and how deeply he was affected. It also indicated that perhaps this unconquerable Fenian felt a degree of responsibility coupled with anger for the circumstances of her death.