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.