As the bloody Civil War wound to an end, Fenians trained their sights on the next battle—the war against England to free their beloved Ireland. Fenians divided bitterly over tactics. One wing mounted an armed invasion of British Canada in the summer of 1866, hoping to push U.S.-British diplomatic ties, already sorely tested by perceived British sympathy for the Confederates, to the breaking point. If war ensued, Ireland could become free.
The other wing fastened on spurring rebellion in Ireland by sending war-hardened men and arms to lead the revolt. American Fenians began traveling in small groups to Ireland in 1865 and 1866, packing pistols and gold.
On March 5, 1867, the long-awaited Fenian Rising erupted in Ireland. Fenians launched a coordinated attack throughout Ireland on police stations, military facilities, and transportation and communication networks. Irish-Americans were thrilled to learn the news of the establishment of an Irish Provisional Government.
And John Warren began the journey that would end with his trial for treason in Dublin.
Warren was one of the co-commanders aboard Erin’s Hope, a sorry-looking brigantine the Fenians had pressed into service to send help to the rebels in Ireland. Erin’s Hope carried 40 bold Fenian men and over 5,000 rifles and revolvers, three pieces of artillery, and 1.5 million rounds of ammunition, all packed in sewing machine cases, wine casks, and piano boxes to fool the casual observer.
The men left the U.S. in high spirits in April 1867, but their mission soon ran aground. By the time they reached the west coast of Ireland, the Rising had already been crushed. Desperately low on food and water, the men grew mutinous, and Warren and the other leaders made a fateful decision: to land 30 men on the southern coast to find supplies and, hopefully, pockets of resistance. Instead, they were quickly scooped up by vigilant Irish coast guard officers, imprisoned at Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin, and charged with treason. (Fenians arrested in Canada would be treated similarly).
Seemingly cornered, the Irish-American prisoners turned their arrests and trials into an international spectacle, noisily demanding that they be treated as American citizens and be afforded diplomatic protection by the U.S. Consulate abroad. British officials breezily dismissed their claims with the quip, “Once a subject, always a subject.” Only death could release Irish-born Americans from the Queen’s allegiance.