Latest / The History of Ireland: Rebellion, Empire, and Independence — Fexingo History / The Irish Republican Brotherhood: From Fenian Rising to Easter 1916
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about the big set-piece rebellions — 1798, 1848, 1916. But there's a thread that runs through all of them, a secret society that kept the physical-force tradition alive when everything else had failed. I'm talking about the Irish Republican Brotherhood — the IRB. Luna: The Fenians, right? Lucas: Exactly. 'Fenian' was the popular name, taken from the Fianna of Irish mythology — warrior bands led by Fionn mac Cumhaill. The IRB was founded in 1858, in Dublin and simultaneously in New York, by two men: James Stephens and John O'Mahony. Stephens had been out in the 1848 rising, a Young Irelander, and he was convinced that the only way to free Ireland was through a secret, oath-bound conspiracy. Lucas: Stephens was a charismatic, driven figure. He spent years in exile in Paris, then returned to Ireland and began organising in absolute secrecy. The IRB was structured in small circles — cells — so that one informer couldn't betray the whole network. And in America, O'Mahony founded a sister organisation called Clan na Gael, which channelled money and weapons from the Irish diaspora. Luna: How many people actually joined? Lucas: Hard to know exactly, because secrecy was everything. But by the mid-1860s, the IRB claimed perhaps 80,000 members in Ireland, and Clan na Gael had thousands more in the US. They planned a national uprising for 1865, but the British got wind of it. They arrested Stephens and many of the leaders, though Stephens famously escaped from Richmond Prison in Dublin — with the help of a prison warder who was himself a Fenian. Lucas: The rising finally came in 1867, but it was a fiasco. Bad weather, poor coordination, and heavy infiltration by informers meant that what was supposed to be a nationwide insurrection turned into scattered skirmishes. There were fights at Tallaght, at Kilmallock, and a small battle at Ballyhurst in County Tipperary, but the government easily crushed them. The Fenian Rising of 1867 was a military failure. Luna: So what kept the movement going after that? Lucas: Two things: the prisoners and the diaspora. The British transported many Fenian leaders to penal colonies in Australia. In 1876, Clan na Gael in America organised one of the most audacious rescues of the 19th century — the Catalpa incident. They chartered a whaling ship called the Catalpa, sailed it to Fremantle in Western Australia, and whisked six Fenian prisoners onto the ship under the noses of the British authorities. It was a huge propaganda victory. Luna: And then there were the executions in Manchester. Lucas: Exactly. In 1867, three Fenians — William Philip Allen, Michael Larkin, and Michael O'Brien — were hanged in Manchester for the death of a police sergeant during a rescue attempt of two Fenian leaders. They became known as the Manchester Martyrs. Their executions galvanised Irish nationalist sentiment for decades. Every year, commemorations were held, and the IRB used their memory to recruit new members. Lucas: But the IRB also had a darker, more controversial strand. In the 1880s, under the leadership of Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, the Fenians launched a dynamite campaign in England. They bombed railway stations, the Houses of Parliament, and London Bridge — aiming to terrorise the British public into forcing the government to grant Irish Home Rule. It killed a few people and caused a lot of property damage, but it also alienated moderate opinion and led to harsh repression. Luna: It sounds like the IRB was always more about keeping the flame alive than actually winning. Lucas: That's a fair way to put it. For decades, the IRB was a small, secretive organisation that preserved the physical-force tradition. It survived by infiltrating other groups — the Land League, the Gaelic Athletic Association, the Irish Volunteers. And it had a long memory. By the early 20th century, the old Fenian leadership was aging, but a new generation was coming up: men like Tom Clarke, who had spent fifteen years in British prisons for dynamiting, and Seán MacDermott, a young organiser from Leitrim. Lucas: These were the men who would eventually take control of the Irish Volunteers in 1914 and plan the Easter Rising. Clarke and MacDermott were the real architects of 1916 — they formed the military council that plotted the rebellion, and they deliberately kept the more moderate Volunteer leadership in the dark. So in a very real sense, the Easter Rising was the IRB's final act. Luna: And after 1916, the IRB just… faded away? Lucas: Pretty much. The rising transformed the political landscape, and the IRB's secret, oath-bound methods seemed outdated. Many of its members joined the Irish Volunteers — which became the IRA — and the IRB was formally dissolved in 1924. But its legacy is immense. For sixty years, the IRB kept the dream of an independent Irish republic alive, often when no one else believed it was possible. Luna: It's amazing that a secret society could endure that long, through so many defeats. Lucas: It really is. And you know, that kind of endurance — holding onto a cause when the odds seem impossible — it's something a lot of people can relate to in their own lives. If you've been coming with us through these conversations about Ireland, and you find value in keeping these stories alive, there's a small way to help keep this show going without any interruption from ads. We're on buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo — no pressure, just a way for listeners who enjoy the deep dives to support the work. Luna: Yeah, it's a nice way to say 'keep going' if you feel like it. Lucas: Exactly. So back to the IRB — after the rising, the survivors like Éamon de Valera — who was not a Fenian, interestingly — went on to lead the political struggle. But the IRB's ethos of secrecy and sacrifice had a long echo. The very name 'Irish Republican Army' was a direct descendant of the Fenian tradition. Luna: It's a thread that runs through so much of Irish history, from the United Irishmen to the Troubles. Lucas: Absolutely. The IRB were the keepers of the flame in the darkest years. And they remind us that history isn't just about the big moments — it's about the patient organising, the quiet recruitment, the willingness to wait for the right moment. And they waited, and when the moment came in 1916, they seized it.