# The Catalpa Expedition/Appendix

APPENDIX
[London Telegraph.]
Closely following upon the recent debate in the House of Commons on the Fenian prisoners, still held most justly in durance, come particulars from Western Australia of the escape of the half dozen jail-birds who, while they were in captivity, excited so much sympathy among Irish rebels and their abettors. Every Englishman knew that this sympathy was misplaced, and, as a matter of fact, it turns out that it was the very mildness of the captivity of the Hibernians in an Australian penal settlement which made their escape so easy.
[After telling how the rescue was effected, the "Telegraph" continued:]
So the English cruiser had to return to Freemantle as empty as it left, and the skipper of the Catalpa, who was evidently, like most Yankee mariners, an accomplished sea lawyer, sailed off in triumph, laughing at our scrupulous obedience to international law. This is a humiliating result, and it is not easy to see who most deserves blame,—the sleepy warder who allowed all the men to give him the slip and sounded no alarm in time to overtake them on their long carriage drive, or the authorities at Rockingham, who permitted the Catalpa to get outside the territorial limit before stopping her. Nor is it clear what is the next step to be taken. If the American vessel took on board the convicts in Australia, that is in British waters, we presume that we can insist on their rendition and on redress in some shape for a violation of our sovereignty. We can readily conceive what would have happened if an English vessel in the harbor of say Norfolk, ​Va., had received Confederate prisoners on board, and had sailed off, daring pursuit or arrest. Thus our government may be excused for being firm and peremptory in calling attention to whatever violation of law the Yankee whaler may have committed. On the other hand, there is the consideration that the enterprising skipper of the Catalpa has, without meaning it, done us a good turn; he has rid us of an expensive nuisance. The United States are welcome to any number of disloyal, turbulent, plotting conspirators, to all their silly machinations. If these are transferred to British soil, we shall know how to deal with them,—as we have shown already.
[Melbourne Argus.]
The news from Western Australia confirms the suspicion that a grave international outrage was committed in the escape of the Fenian prisoners from Freemantle. They were actually taken away while wearing the convict garb by the master of an American ship, who dispatched a boat ashore for that purpose. It is impossible to suppose that a man did not know very well what he was doing, and his proceedings are precisely as if a French boat were to run to the hill of Portland and take away as many convicts from there as could crowd into her. The imperial authorities are bound to take cognizance of the episode, and to demand a substantial redress. We shall be told, no doubt, that the escaped convicts are political refugees, and attention may be called to the fact that Communist convicts frequently arrive in Australia without the permission of their gaolers. But the attempt at a parallel will deceive no one. The Communists arrive here without any aid on our part. They build boats and take their chance, and if the Fenians had found their way to America, their case would be very different from what it is. Rochefort and his companions came over, it is true, in a British bark; but, though the complicity of the captain was suspected, it was never proved. But with the ​Catalpa there is evidence of a plot; there is testimony that the American master took his boat to an unsuspected spot, and that he made special exertions to ship the men. The ship was on the high seas, it is true, and outside of British jurisdiction, but the master and his boat went to the shore, and for a felonious purpose, and that constitutes the breach of the law of nations. The offense is too serious, too glaring, to be overlooked, and we presume that important communications will speedily pass between the governments of Westminster and Washington.
[Melbourne Advocate.]
The correspondence will be voluminous, but very courteous on both sides, and, after being long drawn out, it will terminate in friendly assurances; for it would never do that first cousins, bound together by common interests, and in whose hands the great destinies of the English-speaking race rest, should seriously quarrel over the fate of a half dozen unfortunate Irishmen. The Slidell and Mason business was a little more serious, and there was no quarrel over it. The cabinet of Westminster will have a strong case for Washington in this Fenian business, but Washington is not without a case against Westminster; for its demand for the unconditional extradition of an American criminal has been refused by the English government. Washington, besides, will be apt to say that these escaped Fenians were political prisoners, and though Great Britain may maintain the contrary, European opinion will be decidedly against her view of the case. Something will also be said about Communist convicts being sheltered on British soil, and after all that can be urged on each side has been said, the whole affair will taper down to an indivisible and invisible point, or, to use a more homely phrase, it will end in smoke.
THE RESCUED PRISONERS
On the 12th inst., William Foley, one of the Irish political prisoners recently confined in Western Australia, arrived in New York from Queenstown, on the steamship Wisconsin. When the news of the escape of the prisoners came last week, it was thought that Foley was among the number, but it now appears that his sentence expired last January, and he sailed from Perth, Western Australia, on the 16th of that month for London. From London he proceeded to Dublin, and after spending a fortnight there went to his home in Tipperary, but finding none of his friends there except one uncle, a very old man, he went to Cork, where he remained about ten days, when he started for New York. The following is the substance of Foley's story, given to a "New York Herald" reporter by the gentleman who received it:—
Toward the end of last November two gentlemen arrived in Western Australia, and, knowing the means, at once placed themselves in communication with the prisoners, and commenced to thoroughly survey the ground on which they were to work. Foley, being on ticket-of-leave at the time, and having just got out of the hospital, where he had been suffering from heart disease, was introduced to one of them by a friend, and on the stranger giving certain information which showed what his mission was, an understanding was arrived at. A great deal of delicate work had to be done, and every precaution taken to avoid attracting the attention of the authorities, but up to the last moment of Foley's stay in the colony not the least suspicion was aroused. The two agents each followed a legitimate occupation, and acted in every way as if going to make their home in Western Australia, or bent solely on making lasting business connections with the colony, and so discreet were their movements and conduct that no one dreamed that they were anything but ​what they appeared to be. "I asked no questions," said Foley, "and they told me nothing which I had not a right to know."
Toward the close of the spring of last year all the prisoners not on ticket-of-leave, and two of the men who had tickets-of-leave, were sent in from the various gangs in which they had been working through the bush and lodged in the principal convict station at Freemantle. Their names were James Wilson, Martin Hogan, Thomas Hassett, Thomas Darragh, Michael Harrington, Robert Cranston, and James Kelley, life-sentenced men, and Thomas Delaney and James McCoy, whose tickets-of-leave were revoked. These were all, with the exception of Wilson, engaged in constructing a reservoir within the prison of Freemantle, which is situated on the hill, intended to supply water to the shipping in the harbor. Wilson was training a horse for the doctor of the prison, and this employment enabled him to go out of the prison several times each day, and gave him many facilities for perfecting the plan of escape. Many disappointments occurred, however, owing to unforeseen accidents, and one golden opportunity was lost through failing to connect with a certain ship. The ability of the agents was tested to the utmost and the patience of the expectant prisoners was sorely tried. Still nothing occurred to arouse the suspicion of the prison officials and no one connected with the attempt lost heart. Two days before Foley took his departure he had an interview with Wilson, and on the former asking him how he should correspond with him, Wilson said, "Don't write to us any more; I am confident we shall all follow you soon."
When taking his leave two days later neither could speak, but could only exchange a silent but hearty shake of the hand. This was on January 16. Foley took his passage on a sailing vessel for London, and after a voyage of ninety-four days arrived in that city.
Though he could not feel sure that all had escaped, ​Foley expressed the greatest confidence in the safety of those who had got on board the American ship. The Georgette, which was sent in pursuit of the Catalpa, according to the statements of the Sydney papers, telegraphed here from San Francisco, is only a small screw steamer, built on the Clyde, about two hundred tons burthen, which is employed in carrying the mails from Champion Bay, the most northern settlement in West Australia, to King George's Sound, which is the most southerly point at which vessels call in the same colony, and she is manned by only ten men at the most,—ordinary sailors who never saw any service. In Perth and Freemantle there are not more than thirty policemen at any time, and if all of these went on board the Georgette the released soldiers and their friends could make short work of them in a hand-to-hand fight. The only artillery in the colony is in Perth—four old nine-pounders belonging to a company of volunteers, the members of which live scattered through the surrounding country and could not be got together at a short notice. There are about forty retired soldiers living in the neighborhood of Perth, but they are all old men, and could not be collected at any shorter notice than the volunteers.
It would take some time to unlimber the guns, get the Georgette ready and prepare for a pursuit, and the point on the coast selected for a rendezvous, according to arrangements made previous to Foley's departure, is about twenty-five miles from Freemantle. Everything considered, it would take several days to enable the Georgette to start in pursuit, and by that time the Catalpa, or any other vessel on which they might be, would be beyond her reach. Then the Georgette could not be provisioned for a long cruise, nor could the police force nor the pensioners be spared from the colony for any length of time, and there was no ship of war at all in the neighborhood. Altogether the chances of the recapture of the prisoners by the Georgette appear to be very remote, even if she ​would risk boarding an American ship on the high seas. Boats had been already secured when Foley left, to accommodate all the prisoners and convey them out to sea so that they might not get on board any ship in British waters. "The news," said Foley, "seems too good to be true; it is so short a time since I saw them within the prison walls, and all I can say is, God speed them on their way, and may God bless the Yankee captain who took them aboard."
Foley is thirty-eight years of age, and enlisted in 1853 in the Bombay Horse Artillery, under the East India Company, and served all through the Sepoy rebellion. In 1859 he returned to England, and soon after re-enlisted in the Fifth Dragoon Guards, in which regiment he remained until his arrest for Fenianism in February, 1866. He is a simple, quiet man, but known by his comrades to be a man of indomitable courage. Before his imprisonment he was a man of magnificent physique, being six feet in height and splendidly proportioned. At present he is reduced considerably, through the terrible ordeal through which he has passed, and very little of that soldier's strut so characteristic of British cavalrymen can be noticed in him.—Pilot, June 24, 1876.
CAPTAIN ANTHONY OF THE CATALPA
The remarkable story printed in this week's "Pilot," from the pen of the chief agent in the rescue of the prisoners, makes it clear that the captain of the whaling bark Catalpa is a man of extraordinary nerve and integrity. Captain George S. Anthony is a young man, scarcely thirty years of age; a silent, unassuming sailor. There is nothing in his appearance, except, perhaps, the steadiness of the deeply-sunken dark eye, to tell that in a moment of pending danger that would frighten brave men this one would take his life in his hand, and, with ​his usual quiet air, steer into the very jaws of destruction.
When the Catalpa lay off the coast of the penal colony, at the appointed place for the rescue, Captain Anthony did not, as he might have done, send one of his officers in command of the boat that was to land on the dangerous coast. With a picked crew of his whalemen, the captain took the steering-oar himself. When he had reached the shore, a man who had been watching the incoming boat informed him that he had passed over a terrible danger; that right in the line he had crossed lay a fatal reef, over which no boat had ever before sailed in safety. Had this information not been given, it is almost certain that the entire boat's crew, with the rescued prisoners, would have been lost, for Captain Anthony would certainly have sailed out as he had entered, and in that event the bones of the brave fellows would now be whitening on the ledges of the reef. When the escaped prisoners arrived, and the frail boat again put to sea, the firm hand of the captain still held the steering-oar. The night came down, the wind rose, and the water lashed over the deep-laden boat. They could not see the ship's lights, but steered blindly into the darkness. There was no choice of roads. Behind them was the chain-gang for the rescuers and the gallows for the absconders. The morning came, and the drenched and weary men, instead of a bark, saw a gunboat in pursuit. They were grateful then for the rising waves, in the troughs of which their little boat escaped the watchful eyes of the pursuit. The trained skill of the seaman was here invaluable. He knew that a boat might escape being seen from the deck of a ship, though only a short distance away. He lowered his sail, and got into the wake of the gunboat, the point where they would be least likely to look. And when the gunboat steamed away, and the smaller police-cutter hove in sight and bore straight down on the whaleboat, trying to cut them off from the ship. Captain Anthony shouted encouragement ​to his tired men, calling them by name, using all the whaleman's arts to urge his hands in the last spurt before the whale is struck—till he saw that they had distanced the cutter by a few terrible yards, and were safe alongside the Catalpa. For thirty hours Captain Anthony had held the steering-oar of his whaleboat.
It is a splendid story of endurance and devotion to duty. The brave man had undertaken to rescue these prisoners, and he held to his engagement with a manly faith that neither danger nor death could appall. To the rescued he was not bound by ties of race or nationality; but he knew they were political prisoners, cruelly held in bondage; and the seaman's heart, made generous by intercourse with foreign lands, felt deeply the bond of humanity, regardless of Celtic or Anglo-Saxon promptings.
It must not be forgotten that by this achievement Captain Anthony has destroyed his career as a whaleman. He has placed himself beyond the pale of every British harbor in the world. He can no more follow his profession in the South Sea or in the Indian Ocean, for nearly every port at which the whaleships get supplies are possessions of the British Crown. By this one act, done for Irishmen, Captain Anthony has literally thrown away the years and experience that have made him one of the best whalemen in New Bedford.
The Irish people of America should not forget this, nor allow such a debt to remain against their name. Captain Anthony should get such a testimonial as will put him beyond the necessity of ever going to sea again. Unless this be done, the brave man has ruined his future in the interests of a selfish and ungrateful people. If the masses of our people would contribute each a mite—ten cents apiece—enough would be done. At the meetings of Irish societies throughout the country, subscriptions of this kind might be raised; and local treasurers could be appointed to receive contributions. All subscriptions sent to "The Pilot" will be ​acknowledged. There is not an Irish man or woman in America who could not give something, no matter how small, to such an object; and we trust that no time will be lost in setting the movement in practical operation.—Pilot, September 2, 1876.
ESCAPE OF THE IRISH PRISONERS
. . . Business was almost entirely suspended, and the imposing Masonic ceremony of laying the foundation stone of the new Freemasons' Hall, which was to take place at four o'clock, was almost forgotten, and attracted but little if any attention. In the course of the afternoon, His Excellency, accompanied by the Colonial Secretary, drove down, and after consultation with the Superintendent of Water Police, the Comptroller-General, and other officials, and the agent for the Georgette, it was decided to dispatch the Georgette again to the Catalpa, with a view to intercept the boat, or to demand the surrender of the prisoners from the captain, if they were on board. The pensioners and police were again embarked, a twelve-pounder field-piece was shipped and fixed in the gangway; provisions were put on board, and a fatigue-party of pensioners were engaged in coaling—thirty tons being put on board in a short time. By eleven o'clock arrangements were completed, and the Georgette steamed away from the jetty. Not a few, both on board and on shore, but gave way to gloomy forebodings as to the result of this second visit to the ship. Certainly, the arrangements made by the authorities warranted those who were not acquainted with international law, or aware of his excellency's instructions, in concluding that the governor had determined upon resorting to force, if necessary, to capture the fugitives. By early morning the Georgette was outside of Rottnest, and at daylight sighted the ship bearing S. S. E. under full sail. The ​Georgette hereupon hoisted her pennant and the ensign, and all hands were put under arms. As the Georgette did not gain upon the ship, and the wind was freshening, a gun was fired under the vessel's stern,—and she then run up the American flag. She took no further notice of the signal, and the Georgette, under full steam and all sail, gave chase. As the ship did not attempt to shorten sail or take any notice of the signal, when the Georgette had steamed to within a quarter of a mile of her a gun was fired across her bow, and the captain of the ship then got into the quarter-boat. ...
WHAT THE AUSTRALIAN PRESS SAYS
The comments of the Western Australian papers will be interesting to the readers of "The Pilot." "The Perth Inquirer" of the 26th of April says: "It seems humiliating that a Yankee with a half dozen colored men should be able to come into our waters and carry off six of the most determined of the Fenian convicts,—all of them military prisoners,—and then to laugh at us for allowing them to be taken away without an effort to secure them. But international law must be observed, and, doubtless, the Home Government will seek and obtain redress for this outrage. It is evident that Collins came to this colony with ample means as the agent of the American Fenian Brotherhood, and that Jones, Johnson, and Taylor were co-workers in furthering the escape of the prisoners. Immediately the Catalpa arrived in Bunbury, Collins proceeded there, and doubtless interviewed Captain Anthony, who shortly afterwards came to Freemantle under the plea of securing fresh charts, but in reality to reconnoitre the coast. The Catalpa appears to have cleared out of Bunbury on the 28th of March, when a ticket-of-leave man named Smith was found stowed away and taken by the police. She must have returned to Bunbury, and again cleared out finally on the 15th instant. It would appear that there was a desire to obtain ​correct legal information on international law, for about the time of Captain Anthony's visit to Freemantle, Johnson called upon Mr. Howell, the solicitor in Perth, and asked several questions as to the limit of neutral waters, from which we infer that the captain knew what he was about when he told Mr. Stone that his flag protected him where he then was."
TOO BAD TO BE LAUGHED AT BY THE YANKEES
The "Freemantle Herald," of April 22, said:—
"The early return of the steamer gave rise to every kind of conjecture, and as her approach was watched from the shore, wagers were freely made as to the cause of her early return. Many declared that the Catalpa, warned of the steps the governor was taking by the previous visit of the Georgette, had attacked her and beaten her off. Others laid bets that, overawed by the determination of force on board the Georgette, the captain of the Catalpa had quietly surrendered the runaways. As is usual in such cases, the sequel showed that neither was right. When the true condition of affairs became known, there were some manifestations of indignation at the colony having been fooled by a Yankee skipper. The pensioners and police felt that they had been taking part in a very silly farce, and had been laughed at by the Yankees at sea and the public on shore, and sincerely hoped that instructions would be given to go out again and take the prisoners by force. The governor, however, who throughout had acted with most commendable energy and prudence, was not to be led into committing a breach of international law to gratify a feeling of resentment at the cool effrontery of the Yankee, directed that the armed parties on board the Georgette should be dismissed, and the vessel returned to the agent, with his excellency's thanks for the readiness with which the vessel had been placed at his disposal, and for the hearty manner in which both the agent, Mr. McCleery, the captain, Mr. M. ​O'Grady, and all concerned, had coöperated with him in the matter; at the same time expressing his approbation of the conduct of Mr. Stone. These instructions were carried out, and in a short time the crowds dispersed, and the town elapsed into its normal condition of quietude, having suffered three days of the most intense excitement ever experienced in its history."—Pilot, August 12, 1876.
HOW THE IRISH PRISONERS ESCAPED
The following letter has been received by Mrs. O'Reilly, John Street, Kilkenny, from her son, Rev. John O'Reilly, who is at present in Freemantle, Western Australia. Father O'Reilly, following in the footsteps of many ardent young missionaries, left home and friends to pursue his sacred calling in the region of the Southern Cross. We can easily understand what his feelings were when the mail steamer returned to her moorings after her fruitless pursuit of the whaler bearing away the escaped prisoners:—
Freemantle, W. A., April 18, 1876.
My dear Mother,—You owe to the accidental detention of the mail steamer the letter which I am now writing. The cause of the delay is an event which will probably excite so much attention in the Old Country and America, that it will form the principal if not the sole topic of my note.
You are aware before now that Western Australia is a convict colony. Hither were sent some seven or eight years ago a number of the prisoners sentenced to penal servitude on the occasion of the Fenian disturbances a little before that date. These were gradually released, and at the beginning of the present month only eight remained in confinement in Western Australia. All eight had been soldiers. The prisoners of the establishment work in various gangs throughout the town, and the ​Fenians were distributed at different points with the rest. Amongst the prisoners some are chosen to fill offices of trust in connection with the prison arrangements, and are called constables. One of the Fenians was a constable, and by delivering pretended orders to the warders in charge of the working parties, he was enabled to get six of the Fenians together when occasion required.
The occasion came yesterday. At nine o'clock he withdrew these whom he required from under the warders in charge. The six prisoners assembled at a spot just outside Freemantle. Two carriages, with two horses each, were in readiness. They got in, and away they go.
I must retrace my steps a little. Towards the end of last year a gentleman represented as from one of the neighboring colonies arrived here. He put up at the best hotel at the port, and has since mixed with the best society. He went by the name of Mr. Collins. His business here was always an enigma to the residents, but it was supposed by some that he had come here with a view of seeing his way to the opening of some business. Another person lately arrived here too, named Jones, a Yankee; but as he worked at a trade no one noticed him. Now it appears these two persons were the chief actors in the plot. They arranged the details of the flight, and awaited the fugitives with carriages at the place of rendezvous yesterday.
The party drove to a spot sixteen miles or so from Freemantle, where they were seen to enter a boat evidently belonging to a whaler in the offing.
Yesterday, port and metropolis were in a state of intense excitement. The government chartered an only steamer, a peaceful mail boat, put on board a guard of pensioners and police,—we have no soldiers in the colony,—and sent it in pursuit. A little before the steamer an open boat manned with water police had started on the trail of the runaways.
To-day, at four, the steamer returned. A crowd had ​assembled on the jetty to see her come in; I was amongst the number; she did not bring the prisoners; she reported having been alongside the whaler. The captain and one boat's crew were absent. The authorities in the steamer requested to go on board, but were refused permission. As the vessel lay in neutral waters, they could not use force to attain their desires.
The water police boat is still in chase of the missing ship's boat, but I doubt if they will come up with her. Under cover of the darkness of the night—and it threatens to be dark indeed—the absent crew, with the fugitives, will make the ship; and even if the police crew found them, and there was a fight, as there would be pretty sure to be, if a forced capture were attempted, it is very doubtful who would be the victors. Against the fifteen water police, there would be the six prisoners, their two accomplices, and the boat's crew.
The whistle is sounding its warning, and my letter must hurry to the post. With kindest love to all, believe me,
Your affectionate son, J. O'Reilly.
—Pilot, June 24, 1876.
THE ESCAPE OF THE POLITICAL PRISONERS
"There was a torchlight procession in Dublin on Saturday night, June 10, in celebration of the escape of the political convicts from West Australia, and Disraeli was burned in effigy." So runs the latest telegram from Ireland, and the news is fully significant. Ireland knows the meaning of the escape, and will act on it. It was planned and carried out by her sons in America; and this fact will intensify the national spirit of the Old Country, and make her feel that she is beginning to reap the harvest of her motherhood.
The first news of the escape of the Irish prisoners appeared last week in the following dispatch:—
​"London, June 6. A dispatch from Melbourne, Australia, states that all the political prisoners confined in Western Australia have escaped on the American whaleship Catalpa."
About the same time the SS. Colima from Sydney, Australia, reached San Francisco with news to the same effect, but adding that the ocean cable from Australia to Java had been cut on April 27, immediately before the escape.
Two weeks ago the English Prime Minister scornfully refused to release those prisoners at the earnest request of Ireland. It was in his hands then to render this escape meaningless, and to make Irishmen believe that they had better wait for the slow course of English justice. But the old spirit of domineering insolence was too strong in the British House of Commons. To show mercy to Ireland would be a confession of weakness; they determined to refuse the Irish petition, and at their own haughty will select the time to release the prisoners.
But Ireland has had satisfaction this time. At the moment that Disraeli was jauntily telling the House that he would not release the prisoners, they were on board a Yankee ship, free as air, thousands of miles from an English chain or an English dungeon. Ireland laughs at England at home; and all America joins in our jeer across the Atlantic.
It is the beginning of a new order of things in Irish national movements. Heretofore England could buy informers and perpetuate the distrust of each other which has been the curse of Irishmen. The reins of agitation have been too often given into inferior hands, and inferior intelligence has too long dominated Irish councils. The escape of the prisoners from Western Australia is the best proof that Irishmen can manage the most dangerous and difficult enterprises, and keep their own counsel in a way unknown almost to any other nation. The plan of this escape was completed nearly two years ago. ​Every portion of the gigantic scheme was worked out in the United States. The machinery was set in motion here, eighteen months ago, which recently struck such an alarming note in the penal colony. When the freed men are landed safe in America or some other country, the plan of the escape may be published. Until then we shall only say that nothing was left to chance, that no expense was spared, and that brave men were ready to risk liberty and life itself to make the attempt a success.
To one devoted man, more than to any other, the whole affair is creditable. He it was who, with the pitiful letters received from the prisoners in his hand, excited the sympathy of Irish conventions and individual men. He neglected his business in New York to attend to the prisoners. He told those who helped the object that they would have to trust him, that the secret must not be generally known. They did trust him, for they had reason to know his purity as a patriot. The event proves the truth and devotedness of the man. We have asked him for permission to publish his name; but he will not allow us till the men are absolutely safe. To another man, an American friend, the gratitude of the Irish people is also due.
These outlines are not imaginative, but real. We have been acquainted with the plan since its inception; and of late have been anxiously watching for the good news.
A CARTOON FROM THE IRISH WORLD, SEPTEMBER 2, 1876
LESSONS FROM THE PRISONERS' ESCAPE
The well-planned and boldly executed rescue of the Irish political prisoners from the penal colony of Western Australia contains lessons worth noting by those who desire to perpetuate Irish nationality. A nation that cultivates the evil weed of Distrust will never become strong or great. Cohesion is the principle of power, and the people that cannot stand by each other for a common cause, under common leaders, are no stronger than a ball of sand, to be scattered at a touch.
Heretofore the curse of Ireland has been the impossibility of union. Party hated party; class distrusted class. Rich men were called traitors because they, having something to lose, refused to enter on every wild plan of revolution without considering the probabilities. Poor men were too easily led by demagogues. The man who spake loudest, who boasted most, became the idol of the hour. When the opportunity offered, he sold the people he had so easily deceived, and scorned them for their credulity. There are plenty of "successful men" of this class—such as Judge Keogh, who a few years ago called God to witness that he would never desert the People's Cause, but who, when made a judge, was the first to lay a ruthless hand and an insulting tongue on the religion and nationality of his country.
With such an experience Irishmen have grown distrustful to such a degree that the danger from their doubt is greater than from their deception. Better a thousand times to be deceived than to lose faith in your brother's honesty and patriotism.
The cure of this national disease is coming—for the ​cause of it is plain. Distrust has grown from disappointment; and this has been the result of a bad selection of men. Ireland has hitherto trusted the talkers rather than the doers. She has given her vote to the noisy demagogues who tickled her ear, and has turned from the men who appealed to her common-sense. For twenty-five years past—with the exception of the abortive Fenian movement—the Irish people have acted as if green flags, denunciation of England, and poetic sunburstry were enough to establish Ireland's claim to national independence.
We trust and believe that a change for the better is coming. Ireland is beginning to see that the men who are able to do something for themselves, the men of judgment and prevision in their own affairs, are likely to bring the best intelligence into national deliberations. Hereafter it will not be a recommendation for an Irish politician that he has failed to make a decent living at everything else.
The rescue of the political prisoners proves that the Irishmen who talk least can do most. It proves also that distrust is not chronic in the Irish people—that they can stake great issues on the faith of single men—when they have selected them for their capacity and intelligence instead of their braggadocio.
Another and most valuable lesson from the rescue has a bearing on the English army. The thousands of Irishmen in the ranks knew that those men were kept in prison because they had been soldiers. It seemed, too, for two or three years past, that those men had been forgotten. The leaders of the movement were free; and no one seemed to care for the poor fellows whose very names were unknown. The soldiers in the army knew that of all the Irish prisoners of '66 and '67, there were none who risked more or who would have been more valuable than a trained dragoon, the indispensable artilleryman, and the steady linesman. To see their ​comrades forgotten and left to rot in their dungeons was enough to make the Irishmen of the army abjure their nationality and accept the English dominion in Ireland.
This has been averted by the rescue. The soldiers in the English army will read the news with a deeper thrill than any other Irishmen. It has a larger meaning to them than to others. "Now," they will say, "now, at last, we are a part of the Irish people. Our red coats do not separate us from our countrymen; and if we suffer for their cause they will be true as steel to us in the day of trial."
It is full time that Irish nationality should take intelligent position. All shades of Irish politics can agree in mutual respect; they are all shades of green. One party may desire more than another, and believe it possible of attainment. But they should not hate the others that think differently. The Home Rulers are as honest as the Fenians, and as intelligent. One should say to the other:
"We travel the same road; but when you stop, we go farther. If we succeed, you can join us; if we fail, we shall return to you for support." This is true nationality; and when this spirit grows among the Irish people, there cannot be a doubt of the result.—Pilot, June 24, 1876.
THE RESCUED PRISONERS
GRAND RECEPTION IN BOSTON
On the 1st inst., a grand entertainment was given in Music Hall for the benefit of the released prisoners, who were present. The immense hall was crowded; nearly every seat on floor and galleries was filled. The stage was fitted up with a handsome proscenium, the Shell Literary Institute playing the patriotic drama of Robert Emmet. The greatest credit is due to the management committee. Polite ushers were in attendance, and not the least hitch occurred in the whole evening's ​entertainment. The address was delivered by John E. Fitzgerald, Esq., who was greeted with thundering applause. He pictured in graphic words the condition of Ireland for centuries; while Poland and other struggling nationalities had been wiped from the map, the intense individualism of the Irish as a nation had preserved them. The movement for which these gallant fellows had suffered was the embodiment of the national idea. (Applause.)
The more pacific and undefinable agitation known as the Home Rule movement was by no means final—as England well knew. In was a step toward something fuller,—toward the only consummation that will ever satisfy Irishmen,—complete separation. (Great applause.) The sentiment of Henry Grattan was still vivid,—that no one but the Irish people had a right to legislate for Ireland. Mr. Fitzgerald dwelt eloquently on the devotion of the Nationalists to their imprisoned brethren. He spoke in the highest praise of the efforts of those by whom this last brilliant exploit was accomplished with so much wisdom and secrecy. He said that the sum of $30,000 had been contributed in this country in its aid, and though the object of the contribution was so widely known, the secrecy was maintained until its accomplishment. He hoped that a generous and substantial testimonial would be presented to Captain Anthony, the brave man who had risked and accomplished so much in their behalf. Mr. A. O'Dowd recited Meagher's "Sword Speech" in impressive style. A song, "Caed Mille Failthe," by Mr. E. Fitzwilliam, was sung by the composer, and pleased the audience so well that an encore was given, in response to which Mr. Fitzwilliam sang another of his compositions, entitled, "The Irishman's Version of One Hundred Years Ago," which was also generously applauded. Miss Annie Irish, a well-known vocalist, sang two songs in acceptable style; and Mr. Sheehan, who was warmly received, received an encore, to which he responded in his usual excellent manner.
​The drama by the Sheil Literary Institute was, as usual with that body, well played, and gave great pleasure to the immense and patriotic audience. Before its performance there were loud requests for "Captain Anthony" to come forward, but that brave fellow, who sat in the audience with Captain Hathaway, of New Bedford, was too modest to make his appearance.
At the close of the drama the demand for the appearance of the rescued prisoners was imperious, and had to be gratified, though it was intended by the committee that the men should not be paraded. But the call was so strong and kindly that the bronzed men appeared on the stage, and were introduced by Mr. Fitzgerald. The greeting they received will never be forgotten. It was plain how deep a chord their suffering and escape has struck in the Irish heart. They numbered six, though Mr. Wilson, one of the rescued men, was not present; his place was filled by Mr. William Foley, the ex-prisoner who arrived in this country about two months ago.
The entertainment was a complete success; and, besides its value as a patriotic safety-valve, it will add a considerable sum to the testimonial to be presented to the ex-prisoners, to enable them to begin life in this new country under fair circumstances.—Pilot, September 9, 1876.
THE RESCUED PRISONERS
RECEPTION TO JOHN J. BRESLIN
A large audience assembled in Boston Theatre on the evening of Sunday, the 24th inst., to tender a public reception to Mr. John J. Breslin, the chief agent in the rescue of the Fenian prisoners from Australia. The reception was under the management of the United Irish Brotherhood, and the committee of arrangements deserves the greatest credit.
​Charles F. Donnelly, Esq., presided on the occasion, and among others on the platform were Captain Anthony, City Marshal Hathaway, of New Bedford, Alderman O'Brien, Thomas Riley, Esq., and a large number of prominent and respectable citizens.
Mr. Donnelly, in an eloquent address, reminded his audience that the turmoil of a political campaign did not prevent them from assembling to do honor to brave men. Could they say that the spirit of the knights and saints of old was dead? Did it not survive in the act of the brave men there present? A year ago, and the escape of the political prisoners would have been deemed an impossibility; it had been undertaken and executed by Mr. Breslin, who set out to rescue from bondage, ten thousand miles away, men whom he had never seen, men whose only crime was loving their country, perhaps not wisely, but too well,—if an Irishman could love his country too well. But the age of chivalry had been revived even in this hard, practical age by a generous Yankee captain. (Loud applause.) Many morals might be drawn from this event, but he would select one,—it was this: that when an Irishman and a Yankee combine to carry out an undertaking, they can do it in spite of the whole power of the British Empire.
Mr. Donnelly then stated that he had received a letter from Wendell Phillips regretting his inability to attend, and expressing sympathy with the objects of the meeting. A telegram of similar import was read from General Butler, which concluded thus: "A prominent Massachusetts politician says that Fenianism should be crowded out of politics. Fenianism is the love of one's native land. I hope it may never be crushed out of the heart of any citizen of this country."
Alderman O'Brien, the next speaker, said that when coming there he had no intention of making a speech. He came there in common with his fellow-citizens to extend to these brave men a cordial welcome, and to show ​them that he felt as he spoke, he would shake hands with them all. He was followed by Thomas Riley, Esq., who began by likening the cause of Ireland to that patriotic society whose birth antedated that of George III., and which still lived on. The spirit of Irish liberty was not dead, as was proved by their presence there that night to do honor to a man and an act. The achievement of Mr. Breslin was worthy of the annals of an earlier era. Ireland's history was one of oppression. An Englishman had once charged that the Irish were "an unpolished nation;" to which a native of Ireland replied, "It ought not to be so, for we have received hard rubs enough to be polished long ago." It was acts like Mr. Breslin's that kept alive the spirit of liberty. Plantagenet and Tudor, and Stuart and Cromwell, all had dealt Ireland crushing blows, all had waded through seas of Irish gore; yet all their dynasties had perished off the face of the earth, and the spirit of Irish liberty still survived. The worst of the Roman Emperors was Julian, yet he sent no Christian to the cross or the wild beasts, he merely banned and barred Christian education, for he well knew that without education a nation relapsed into the depths of barbarism. England had done the same; in her savage, barbarous penal code she had proscribed education and educators, but Ireland still clung to the light of liberty. She listened to the sound of the battle of freedom in the West, and her sons caught the flame, and Flood, and Grattan, and the Volunteers raised her to nationhood, and crowned her with the star of freedom. She had lost that eminence, but the spirit burned again in the immortal O'Connell; it still survived the golden-mouthed Father Burke. The speaker paid a touching tribute to the memory of John Mitchel, and denounced England as championing the iniquity of the age, of upholding dead and rotten Turkey and her butcheries, and that the hour of retribution had arrived, if Russia would only advance. If England lost her temper in the threatened European complication. ​land would be her "beetle of mortality." During his eloquent address Mr. Riley was frequently applauded.
Captain Hathaway, who succeeded him, said he was not an Irishman, but that was not his fault. He detailed the facts already published as to the inception of the plan of escape, how Mr. Devoy had approached him with a letter from his (Mr. H.'s) friend, Mr. John Boyle O'Reilly, and the consequent chartering of the Catalpa.
Captain Anthony, who divided attention with Mr. Breslin as the lion of the night, succeeded, and was greeted with a storm of applause, to which that man of deeds, not words, responded by two modest bows.
Mr. John J. Breslin, who was enthusiastically received, then addressed the audience. He said that parliamentary action, prayers, and petitions had all failed to move the bowels of compassion of the British government in behalf of the prisoners, for the reason said government had no bowels. Mr. John Devoy, well and honorably known in '65, in 1873 began to actively agitate the plan of escape, and had, in the fall of 1874, raised funds sufficient to warrant him to make the attempt. The funds were raised in various ways; one of John Mitchel's last lectures was given for the purpose. Mr. Devoy placed himself in communication with a gentleman whose high literary abilities and rare poetic talents had raised him to a prominent position among the journalists of the day; by whom he (Mr. Devoy) was introduced to Captain Hathaway, of New Bedford, through whom the Catalpa was obtained. Mr. Breslin gave a clear, concise, and detailed account of his proceeding from first to last in carrying out the details of the escape. Most of this has already appeared in our columns. His description of the face of the country, cities, geology, and flora of Western Australia was particularly good, and show both scholarship and observation on his part. Alluding to the sandy nature of the soil, he related the following anecdote: An inhabitant meeting a "new chum," told him it was a fine country. "It is," ​said the latter, "so mighty fine that most of it would pass through a sieve."
At the close of Mr. Breslin's address, the chairman announced the meeting adjourned. Before and after the proceedings, Mr. Breslin, who is of commanding presence and courteous demeanor, was surrounded by groups of enthusiastic countrymen, each eager to express admiration and sympathy.—Pilot, September 30, 1876.
WHY DON'T ENGLAND DEMAND THE PRISONERS?
Mr. Gladstone is an able man, watchful and jealous of the honor of England. He has written a pamphlet of great power on the Turkish atrocities in Bulgaria, in which he says that Turkey should be excluded from Bosnia, Herzegovina, and Bulgaria, as a power unfit to rule civilized and Christian people. He says that the English government should lead in accomplishing this result,—"to redeem by these measures the honor of the British name, which in the deplorable events of the year has been more generally compromised than I have known it in any former period." That is true; the past two or three years have torn away more of England's prestige than all her previous history. She has fallen into decay so fast that she has not made a single effort to reassert herself as a Great Power. When Russia broke the Black Sea Treaty, England growled, but backed down. She sees the Czar laying railways to Northern Asia, and she hears the tramp of his legions already on the border of Hindostan; but she fears to stir a finger. When her Prime Minister, Disraeli, last year made an assertion that irritated Prussia, and that iron empire frowned, the fearful minister hastened to eat his words before the face of Bismarck. When the Fenian prisoners—men whom she persisted in calling "criminals"—were taken from her ​in defiance of all her laws, she dare not demand them from the United States. Why? Because the root of her greatness is split—the germ of her strength is rotten. Beside her heart she has the disease that will sooner or later strike her down. She has maltreated, misgoverned, scorned, derided the island and the people of Ireland, until oppression has generated in their hearts the terrible political mania of national hatred. God forbid that we should exult in such a feeling; but no one who knows Ireland and Irishmen can deny its existence. England, to save herself, to possess the land, has driven the Irish people over the world; but wherever they went they carried with them the bitter memory of their wrongs and hates. She has strengthened the world against herself. She is powerless and contemptible; if she were to-day to demand the return of the Fenian prisoners, the people of all nations would shout in derision, and the United States would answer with a particular sneer. It is well for Mr. Gladstone to say that her honor is waning. But he has only seen the beginning of the end. The haughty and truculent country must eat the leek till its heart is sick.—Pilot, September 16, 1876.
JAMES REYNOLDS, THE TREASURER
James Reynolds, of New Haven, Conn., familiarly known as "Catalpa Jim," was born in County Cavan, Ireland, on October 20, 1831. His ancestry dates back over fourteen hundred years to the noble sept MacRaghnaill, which the Irish historians tell us was a branch of the tribe called Conmaie, whose founder was Conmacrie, third son of Fergus MacRoigh, by Meive, the celebrated queen of Connaught, in the first century of the Christian era.
He was but sixteen years of age when, during the memorable famine that peopled the cemeteries of Ireland, he bade adieu to his native heath and sailed away to the distant shores of America, bearing with him a ​freight of precious memories that were to bear fruit in after years of patriotic endeavor. On his arrival in this country he at once apprenticed himself to learn the brassfounding trade, and in 1850 he settled in Connecticut, where he has since made his home. For twenty-eight years he has been a resident of New Haven, where he has received repeated political honors at the hands of his fellow citizens. For several years he has been at the head of the town government as town agent; the only Irishman who has ever been elevated to this position in a city where Puritanic influences and prejudices have not yet wholly passed away. In addition to his municipal duties, Mr. Reynolds has for years conducted a lucrative and somewhat extensive business as a brass-founder.
He early espoused the cause of his country and brought to its service all the energies of an active and impulsive nature. When, in the years following the rebellion, Irish patriotism was directed in a movement against England through her colonies in America, we find him foremost among those whose financial resources flowed freely into the common treasury. Not when his practical mind told him that not here lay the channel to Irish freedom did he close his purse-strings; not even when a prudent judgment convinced him that here lay a waste of Irish blood and human treasures did he say nay to the appeal for funds. It was enough for him to know that even one blow was struck at England, one thrust was made in the great cause of Irish freedom. James Reynolds never believed that the liberation of Ireland was to be effected through the conquest of Canada. His strong native sense and sagacious foresight taught him the folly of such a hope, yet, when the movement was inaugurated, he entered into it heart and soul, with all the enthusiasm of his noble nature, hopeful that even one blow might be struck at the shackles that bound his country.
But it was in the Catalpa movement that his great patriotism found its highest opportunity, and the name ​of James Reynolds gained the imperishable splendor of immortal fame. The history of that memorable expedition is still fresh in the memory of Irishmen; how the little bark with its gallant crew sailed into Australian waters and bore away its precious freight, bringing to freedom and glory those patriots who were expiating in exile their efforts for Ireland; bidding bold defiance to the British man-of-war who gave her chase, and riding safely into the harbor of New York,—all these details are still green in the Irish memory. And while the fame of this daring rescue shall last; while the name of Catalpa shall wake and fan the fires of Irish enthusiasm, so long will the name of James Reynolds be held in fond and loving remembrance. For it was he who mortgaged his home, who placed a chattel upon his household goods, who beggared himself for the time, that the sinews might be forthcoming to inaugurate and sustain the expedition. Other choice spirits lent him their counsels and their fortunes, but James Reynolds gave his all that the Catalpa rescue might be consummated. True, the success of the expedition recompensed him in a measure for his financial sacrifices; it brought back some of the little fortune he freely gave in the cause, but his chief reward, the glory of his great heart and the pride of his noble life, is the memory which he treasures, which his children and his children's children will carry in their hearts, that his sacrifices were not in vain,—that they brought humiliation to England, liberty and happiness to the rescued patriots, and eternal fame and glory to Ireland.
When the Land League movement was inaugurated, he at once actively interested himself, and was one of the leading delegates at its first national convention. He has been a member of the succeeding ones, and has acted a number of times on the committee on resolutions. He was for several years a member of the executive council, the committee of seven, and was state delegate of the ​League for Connecticut. He enthused much of his own enthusiasm into the movement, and during his administration the League in the Nutmeg State was to the front in point of numbers and the character and influence of its work.
James Reynolds is a pure, unselfish patriot; around his name breathes a lustre undimmed by a single thought of personal ambition, the faintest breath of self-interest or individual aggrandizement. Other men have given greater intellectual gifts to the service of Ireland; others have told her wrongs with a sublimer magic of eloquence, and waked the sympathies of men in the sweep of their mighty oratory; and still others, perhaps, have braved a larger measure of personal danger; but none has devoted his whole energies, his entire worldly fortune, with a loftier patriotism, a more generous spirit of sacrifice, than James Reynolds has for the little isle that gave him birth.
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