Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa. Shane Kenna

O’Donovan Rossa flung the file containing The Irish People onto a nearby table, and announced: ‘there, let the law take its dirty course’.51

      On Wednesday 13 December 1865, Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa was found guilty of treason and sentenced to life imprisonment. In summing up his case, Judge Keogh had pointed out that he had been arrested and imprisoned for conspiracy in 1859 and was regularly in contact with James Stephens and John O’Mahony. O’Donovan Rossa interrupted the Judge, announcing: ‘I am an Irishman since I was born.’52 Keogh had evidently had enough of O’Donovan Rossa and breaking from his speech, he addressed the prisoner personally, holding: ‘He would not now waste words, by trying to bring your word to any sense of the crime of which you have been found guilty.’ O’Donovan Rossa retorted ‘You need not! It would be useless for you to try!’53 Taken from the courtroom and down towards an underground passage, O’Donovan Rossa was recorded to have smiled at his sympathisers ‘and walked with a light step from the dock’.54 Shortly afterwards he wrote to his wife:

      On the whole, Mollis, I am satisfied with the course I took. I hope you are too. With a view to public good I considered it a good one to adopt, and I believe that all who would sacrifice anything for the cause of country will approve of it… May God guard and strengthen you till we meet again…55

      5

      A PRISONER OF THE QUEEN

      Despite the bravado of his trial, the thought of the sentence of life imprisonment weighed heavily on O’Donovan Rossa’s mind. Not only was he separated from his heavily pregnant wife and family, he also understood the severe nature of the British Prison system under which he would have to comply. It was a militaristically disciplined system underlined by silence, supervision and separation. It also operated on a system of discipline devised in the 1840s by the prison reformer, Alexander Maconochie. Known as the Marks System, it had been established to ‘uniformly subjugate all brought under its influences’,1 and undermined fixed sentences in favour of the potential for reduced punishment. This could be achieved through the accumulation of marks for good, disciplined behaviour and hard work. When a prisoner had accumulated enough marks, relative to the crime he had been imprisoned for, he could be released. Yet if the prisoner broke prison regulation, his marks were to be taken from him, and his sentence would revert to its original status with extra time. Within Victorian parlance, this was a currency of sorts which the prison authorities could use to penalise offenders and reward those who sought moral reform.

      Mountjoy Prison was also organised on a strict system of silence and separation. This was grounded in the Victorian belief in the power of contemplation and repetitive thought about one’s previous actions. It was hoped that through silence, the prisoner’s resolve could be broken, and he would be forced to think about the crime which he had committed, ultimately facilitating his redemption through silent contemplation. In deference to this rule, prisoners were kept separated at all times; this included religious services where prisoners were placed into compartments within the Prison Chapel, allowing them to see only the Chaplain, rather than each other.

      As a political prisoner, O’Donovan Rossa believed that once imprisoned, all the anger and hatred felt towards Fenianism which the state had exhibited would only be heightened. He also believed that the Marks System would not be used favourably against the Fenian prisoners, believing it only took the word of a prison guard to undermine its value. Expressing his fears to Mary Jane before he left Green Street Courthouse, he had the opportunity to write her a brief note in which he claimed to endure ‘as much suffering as a man can endure bravely’.2 As he finished his letter to Mary Jane, a combined force of soldiers, police and prison staff arrived and ushered him into a black van. Fearful of an escape, the state had surrounded the black van with mounted soldiers, while police sat on the outside. Leaving the Courthouse at speed, the van made for Mountjoy Prison on the nearby North Circular Road.

      Arriving in the imposing institution, O’Donovan Rossa was led inside the prison and was taken to an administrative room. He was stripped naked and thoroughly searched. Examined by a surgeon, he was then washed and given a prison uniform consisting of flannel underpants, shirt, waistcoat, shoes, grey vest, jacket and trousers, a pair of stockings, and cap. He was then registered as a prisoner where he learned the prison rules and was informed that the right to write letters, which most prisoners had, was rescinded, as he was a political prisoner. O’Donovan Rossa began to vocally complain about the conduct of Judge Keogh at his trial but was silenced and was taken away to another room to be shaved. Here he was greeted by a number of prison staff who sat him in a chair and began gruffly shaving him. Starting with his beard, a jailer began to trim it with a scissors, and then moved to his hair. Soon after, the jailer was joined by a colleague with a razor who shaved off O’Donovan Rossa’s beard and hair. Feeling despondent, O’Donovan Rossa sat in silence and obeyed the commands of his jailers. Having been shaved, O’Donovan Rossa was then taken to be photographed. He was placed sitting in a small chair and given a slight blackboard with his name and prison number written on it in chalk. O’Donovan Rossa submitted to these tasks silently – he and his fellow Fenian prisoners had resolved to bear their treatment patiently and with dignity, believing that their behaviour would stand to the merit of their membership of the IRB.

      Following his reception, he was then taken to his prison cell and shown into a small whitewashed room with a table, stool, hammock-bed and toilet bucket. His first day as a prisoner in Mountjoy was consumed by a rather mundane chore of oakum picking, which consisted of uncoiling old and tarred lengths of rope. Having to untwist the rope was painful and dreary work,