Fenian Prisoners of '65 and '67

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CHAPTER VII. **

Waterford and Dublin - Lord Clonmel and the Rev. William Jackson - Montpelier Hill - Arbour Hill Prison - Emmet’s Poems - John Boyle O’Reilly - The Royal Barracks - The Military Fenian Prisoners of ‘65 and ‘67 - Little John and Scaldbrother.

Before resuming our ramble through portions of old Dublin, I desire to reply to some queries raised in reference to some of my statements in the previous chapter.

First, as regards a most interesting letter, that of “John Groono, jun., Waterford,” *re *the Danish Thingmote, in Dublin. His letter has recalled an incident worthy of note in reference to the strained relations which at one time existed between Dublin and Waterford, as we learn from the following in Gilbert’s “Streets of Dublin,” part IV.:- “In 1487 the Earl of Kildare, Lord Deputy, commanded the messenger from the Mayor of Waterford to be hanged on Hoggin Green (where was situate at that period the Thingmote) for having brought word that the citizens of ‘Urbs Intacta’ would not espouse the cause of Lambert Simnel, the pretender to the English Throne.”

Second, - with regard to the letter from the representative of Ledwidge, who was captured at Rathfarnham on 26th May, 1798, and is said to have been executed at Bloody Bridge, not Queen Street Bridge, let me state that when preparing a “‘98” Almanac for the *Weekly Freeman, *published by that journal in connection with the ‘98 Centenary, I inserted the following, under date “Thursday, 26th May. - Battle of Tara Hill, and engagement at Leixlip, and British forces massacre at Dunlavin by order of Col. Sainders, of Sainders’ Grove, when 36 defenceless men were shot down. Wade, Ledwidge, and Carroll hanged at Queen Street Bridge.”

In compiling this almanac, as a general rule I took the events from the newspapers of the day, and I would be glad to have more definite information as to the execution taking place on Bloody Bridge instead of Queen Street Bridge, as stated by Dr. Willis and myself.

On our way to Montpelier and Arbour Hill we turn into Benburb Street, formerly Barrack Street. This street, now a comparatively quiet one, was during a greater portion of the 18th and 19th centuries, one of the busiest streets on the north side of the city, consequent upon its proximity to the Royal Barracks, and as a leading thoroughfare to Phoenix Park.

Here were at one time two singing halls, several “Free and Easies,” also well-appointed hotels and taverns. All is changed now. Many of its old buildings, etc., were removed to make way for the improvements made by the Corporation consequent upon the erection of their artisans’ dwellings. With reference to the singing halls in and around this neighbourhood, I propose at some future time to collate a series of articles on Dublin singing halls, their singers, and their songs.

We now pass the Royal Barracks. It has been considerably altered since its erection in 1706. Harris, describing it in 1766, says - “It is pleasantly situated on an eminence near the water, in healthful air. Here are generally quartered four battalions of foot and one regiment of horse. From hence the Castle and city guards are relieved every day. It is said to be the largest and completest building of the kind in Europe.”

It might be all as described in the days of Harris, but within the past few years it was considered to be one of the most unhealthy barracks in the kingdom, and it had to be entirely remodelled. The view given is a picture of the barracks in 1706. The X marks the Provost, where were tried by court-martial the men of ‘98, and here it was that Tone was done to death.

As we are passing on our way there looms up in our imagination the dismantled Abbey of the Dominicans, the lands of which ran down to what is known to us now as the Royal Infirmary, Montpelier Hill. This place was formerly known as Ellen Hore’s meadow, also as Gibbet’s Mead. At one time the barns of the Convent of the Holy Trinity, Christ Church, stood here.

We ascend the hill, which overlooks a great portion of the city. In the distance we see Kilmainham Hospital, and on looking down towards the river we see Sarah Bridge (named after Sarah, Countess of Westmoreland, whose husband was Lord Lieutenant, 1790-1795). As we gaze upon the scene what pictures pass swiftly before us! Tone’s trial, his brother’s execution, with the many others sharing the same tragic fate.

These fade away. Then we see that of a young man, “slight in his person, his features regular, his forehead high and finely formed; his eyes bright and full of expression; his nose sharp, remarkably thin, and straight. There is nothing remarkable in his appearance; yet he was one of those who, when he spoke in public on any subject that deeply interested him, his countenance then beamed with animation; he no longer seemed the same person. Every feature became expressive of his emotions; his gestures, his actions, everything about him, seemed subservient to the impulses of his feelings, and harmonised with the emanations of a noble intellect. The form seems to be indelibly engraved on the greenest spot in memory’s waste.”

It is that of Robert Emmet. He seems wrapped in deep meditation as he gazes upon the “Provost” and the “Croppies’Acre.” His spirit slowly fades away, but there still remains the memory. We can well imagine Emmet wandering around this place, consecrated as it is by so many memories. Here his comrade, Tone, died; here were others of his companions consigned to a felon’s doom. All these had their effect upon his noble spirit, and it found expression in the following poem, with reference to which Dr. Madden says it was evidently written during the regime of terror in ‘98, and under the influence of feelings harrowed by the atrocities committed on the people:-

“ARBOUR HILL.” - By ROBERT EMMET.

“No rising column marks this spot,

Where many a victim lies;

But, oh! the blood which here has streamed

To Heaven for justice cries.

“It claims it on the oppressor’s head

Who joys in human woe,

Who drinks the tears by misery shed,

And mocks them as they flow.

“It claims it on the callous judge,

Whose hands in blood are dyed,

Who arms injustice with the sword,

The balance throws aside.

“It claims it for his ruined isle,

Her wretched children’s grave:

Where withered Freedom droops her head,

And man exists - a slave.

“Oh, Sacred Justice, free this land

From tyranny abhorred;

Resume thy balance and thy seat,

Resume-but sheath, thy sword.

“No retribution should we seek -

Too long has horror reigned;

By Mercy marked may Freedom rise,

By Cruelty unstained.

“Nor shall a tyrant’s ashes mix

With those our martyred dead;

This is the place where Erin’s sons

In Erin’s cause have bled.

“And those who here are laid at rest,

Oh, hallowed be each name

Their memories are for ever blest -

Consigned to endless fame.

“Unconsecrated is this ground,

Unblessed by holy hands;

No bell here tolls its solemn sound,

No monument here stands.

“But here the patriot’s tears are shed,

The poor man’s blessing given;

These consecrate the virtuous dead,

These waft their fame to heaven.”

Five years pass away, and we see a cortege guarded well by military coming across Sarah Bridge, along the military road, down Parkgate Street, passing Arbour Hill and the Croppies’ Acre, on through Barrack Street, crossing Queen’s Bridge to Thomas Street. Military guarded the route, as it was thought there would be an attempt at rescue. It was no less than the funeral procession of Robert Emmet, on his way to execution at Catherine’s Church. Seventy years pass away, and we find in the Sixties the Provost at the Royal Barracks again occupied in trying military men-their crime, love of Ireland.

One of the ‘65 men who spent some time in the military prison on Arbour Hill has kindly given me the following particulars:- “During the years ‘66-‘67 the Provost’s Prison was extensively used by the military authorities for the detention of soldiers arrested, some of them merely on suspicion, of being implicated in the Fenian movement.

“John Boyle O’Reilly, Corporal Thomas Chambers, and a number of other soldiers were arrested as the result of a raid made on Pilsworth’s publichouse in James’s Street by Colonel Fielding (the Major Sirr of ‘66-‘67). This gentleman was in command of the force of Coldstream Guards and Dublin Metropolitan Police comprising the posse making the scoop. One of the soldiers arrested on the occasion was Corporal Curry, of the 86th Regiment, who was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment and to a flogging of 50 lashes, which, it is on record, he suffered without allowing a murmur to escape his lips.

“O’Reilly, after a prolonged detention in Arbour Hill, was sentenced to penal servitude for life, subsequently reduced to 20 years’ imprisonment, and later on was handed over to the civil power, which transferred him, and some score of other military convicts, to Millbank Prison, London, the establishment where poor Edward Duffy breathed his last.

“In December, 1866, another batch of military men, belonging to the 85th Regiment, were confined in the Provost’s Prison. Their names were-James Kavanagh, Philip Murtha, Michael M’Carthy, and ‘Thomas Simpson’ (J. P. O’Brien). M’Carthy turned ‘approver,’ his testimony, coupled with that given by informers Atkinson and O’Meara, and ‘agent provocateur’ Talbot, R.I.C., convicted the three men. Kavanagh got seven years, Murtha five years, and ‘Simpson’ received, ‘in consequence of his previous good character and the absence of former convictions,’ the mitigated sentence of penal servitude for life.

“One of these men, who spent three months in Arbour Hill, told me that he found many interesting traces of John Boyle O’Reilly, who had been transferred to England prior to my informant’s arrival at the “Provost,” upon the margins of some of the devotional books supplied to the prisoners by the prison authorities, and upon the walls of the cells. Scratched upon the whitewashed bricks were, amongst many other poetic effusions, the following lines

“‘We have borne the scorn and insult, but the Saxon yet shall feel

The strength of Irish vengeance and the points of Irish steel.

The foremost men to strike the foe in freedom’s glorious war,

Shall have worn England’s scarlet and the blue of her hussar.’

“A project to rescue O’Reilly and five of the other long-sentence men in the Provost’s Prison was all but accomplished. The failure, it is said, was due to one of the men incautiously divulging the secret to a gentleman who visited the political military prisoners in the guise - real or assumed - of a clergyman on the eve of the contemplated rescue.”

Arbour Hill in bygone days was a place of amusement for the youth of the vicinity till the Royal Barracks were built in 1706. Here was the Half-Moon publichouse, famous for its sweet ale, called apple d’or.

This hill was at one period a retreat for robbers. When Robin Hood and his merry men were dispersed in England divers of his followers escaped to Ireland, and sojourned in the woods about this hill. His compeer, Little John, went into Dublin and astonished its inhabitants by his feats in archery. This redoubtable hero is said to have been hanged on this hill, for it was then and for some time afterwards a place of execution for criminals, as appears by the name given to a part of it in ancient records, “Gibbet’s Glade” and “Gibbet’s Shade.”

Two centuries later another notorious robber of the name of Scaldbrother inhabited a labyrinthine cavern on this hill, a most intricate maze (as Standihurst terms it) extending two miles under ground, where he deposited the plunder he snatched from the people of Oxmantown. When digging foundations for houses in this neighbourhood they often came upon his track, even as far as Smithfield. It was reported in the newspapers in 1775 that many parts of the pavement gave way, leaving an aperture into a cavern many feet in depth. It is also said some of the vaults of the houses in Queen Street are formed from it.

Passing down Arbour Hill, we enter Stoneybatter, the history of which and its neighbourhood will be dealt with in our next chapter.

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