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.
3
THE IRISH REPUBLICAN BROTHERHOOD
When O’Donovan Rossa was released from Cork Jail in July 1859, the work of organising the Irish Republican Brotherhood had been momentarily suspended. James Stephens, the enigmatic leader of the Fenians, had1 disappeared and for all means and purposes was on the run from the British state. As O’Donovan Rossa was settling into normality after his wife’s death, it seemed that the political side of his life, apart from his personal beliefs and desire to annoy and harass the local authorities, was coming to an end. Being a single father in Victorian Ireland was incredibly difficult, and O’Donovan Rossa now began a relationship with Eileen Buckley, aged 17. Eileen was a native of Gortbrack, Castlehaven, County Cork and was the only daughter of Cornelius Buckley, a butter merchant and wealthy farmer. Eileen was well travelled and had been educated in Europe; she was regarded as a warm, jovial and attractive woman who was much sought after by the bachelors of Castlehaven. Irish was her first language and she regularly embraced the rural Gaelic tradition of dancing at the crossroads and could be seen on Sundays dancing at Crois na Cora Boige (Curraghbeg Cross, Castlehaven). It was here that she met O’Donovan Rossa, and the two developed a relationship. Their relationship, however, got off to a difficult start as the Buckleys wanted nothing to do with O’Donovan Rossa considering his politics, his age and his four children from a previous marriage.
When the couple became engaged, Cornelius Buckley forbade the marriage – he perceived that O’Donovan Rossa was more trouble than he was worth and was only after Eileen’s sizable dowry. Eileen and O’Donovan Rossa realised that they were going to have to elope, which they did in 1861. The couple would have one child to add to O’Donovan Rossa’s already sizable family, whom they named Florence Stephens in honour of the Fenian chief, James Stephens. Having married Eileen, O’Donovan Rossa now looked for a new job – he was determined to do right by Eileen and his family and prove Cornelius wrong. Eventually he secured a position as a temporary relieving officer, through McCarthy Dowling, his solicitor, who sat on the Board of Guardians of the Skibbereen Poor Law Union.
Off the south-west coast of Cork are two islands named Sherkin and Cape Clear. In 1862, just as O’Donovan Rossa had been made a temporary relief officer, the islands had been affected by a near famine, and there was a growing crisis as the people starved due to a shortage of food. The situation was far worse for those living on Cape Clear than Sherkin, considering its distance from the mainland. The Skibbereen Board of Guardians pressed for immediate relief, and O’Donovan Rossa, with his friend and neighbour, Michael O’Driscoll, and the permission of the Board of Guardians, undertook a mission to deliver a ton of meal to the islands to alleviate the hunger of the inhabitants. Seeing the poverty and destitution of the Cape horrified O’Donovan Rossa and brought back memories of the Great Famine. Arriving at Sherkin, O’Donovan Rossa saw a man lying on the grass, almost as if he were basking in the sunshine. Asking for his help unloading sacks, the man looked up but did not make any move to help. O’Donovan Rossa chose to confront him and ask why he would not help the relief effort. As he approached the man lying in the grass, he saw he was starving and in tremendous pain:
I leaped ashore and found the man was unable to stand on his own legs; he was dying of hunger – a man named O’Driscoll, over six feet, and about twenty-six years of age. My wife had thought I would be out on the islands for a few days, and she had sandwiched up as much food for me as would feed me for a week; Michael O’Driscoll’s wife had done the same for him; we took our lunch baskets from the boat, laid them before the hungry man, and left him to help himself while we were landing the meal.2
Arriving back the following day at Sherkin, O’Donovan Rossa found the once hungry man dead. The food that they had left him prior to their departure had been too much.
At Cape Clear, the relief party were met by a local Catholic priest, Fr Collins. The relief team stored the meal at the priest’s home and distributed food to the starving masses. By order of the Board of Guardians, the distribution of the food was under a strict ration of no more than three and a half pounds of meal per person. Distributing the food and having stayed loyal to the Board of Guardians’ ration instruction, the relief effort was left with 100 lbs of meal. This was again stored in Fr Collins’ house, for the next event of food distribution. The priest was determined to show the relief team the horror and destitution of Cape Island. Taking them on a tour of the locality, they were evidently moved by what they saw. Collins took O’Donovan Rossa to one of his parishioners, a young woman who lived inside the cleft of a large rock. To his horror,
