The Immortal Irishman: The Irish Revolutionary Who Became an American Hero

“Still, the indigenous culture—lively, excitably clannish, infectious—would flourish, as the English print on the land faded. The horse racing, the storytelling, the epic versifying over strong drink and tables heavy with trout and partridge, became the way of the occupiers.”

The Indigenous culture of Ireland is described with sensory imagery of leisure activities. Readers are invited to imagine the sounds of “lively” events, rich “heavy” food, and the intellectual pleasure of hearing “epic versifying” while drinking. This imagery contrasts with the fading English influence, juxtaposing the persistence and vibrancy of local traditions with the “faded” occupation.

“Dublin, winter of 1844. Black rain on black cobbled streets, carriages splashing through puddles, the bruised-looking Liffey lumbering to sea.”

The description of Dublin allows Egan to inject poetic rhetorical devices into his prose, transforming history into something closer to a novel by building a somber and oppressive mood the foreshadows events to come. The use of personification in describing the river as "lumbering to sea" gives the river human-like qualities, suggesting a sense of struggle and weariness that mirrors the atmosphere of the city. The diction and alliteration with words like "bruised" and "black," and “Liffey lumbering” further enhances the gloomy tone and adds a rhythmic quality to the prose.

“And here was the tragedy: there was plenty of food in Ireland while the people starved. Irish rains produced a prodigious amount of Irish grains. Almost three fourths of the country’s cultivable land was in corn, wheat, oats and barley. The food came from Irish land and Irish labor. But it didn’t go into Irish mouths.”

The juxtaposition in the first quote highlights the tragic irony of Ireland's famine. Despite the abundant food produced by Irish rains and labor, the grain and crops were not used to feed the starving population. The repetition of "Irish" emphasizes the disconnect that the source of the food are in fact the people who need it most, underscoring the systemic injustice imposed by the British.

“Meagher had no sooner left for Kilkenny than the British government dropped a legal bomb on the Irish: habeas corpus was suspended immediately, the country placed under martial law. Anyone could be arrested and held without cause, without hearing, without bail, even without being told what they were held for—indefinitely.”

The imposition of martial law and the suspension of habeas corpus are conveyed with a series of escalating clauses. This asyndeton—the omission of conjunctions—creates a rapid and overwhelming sense of oppression, reflecting the sudden and harsh reality faced by the Irish under British rule. The repetitive structure of "without cause, without hearing, without bail" emphasizes the lack of justice and the absolute power wielded by British authorities.

“So long as the ocean had no end, life had no starting point. For 112 days, Thomas Meagher’s world was a brig barely thirty yards in length, stem to stern, floating from the Northern Hemisphere to the Southern, past two continents to get to a third—the world’s largest prison.”

The ocean's endlessness symbolizes a lack of direction and purpose to Thomas Meagher’s voyage, while the confinement to a 30-yard brig emphasizes the claustrophobic and isolating experience of the journey. The description of sailing from the Northern Hemisphere to the Southern, past two continents to reach "the world’s largest prison," uses hyperbole to stress the vast distance and the extreme nature of the destination, enhancing the sense of despair and entrapment.

“New life. 1851. A farmer. A husband. Maybe soon, a father.”

Egan uses fragmented sentences to convey domestic simplicity: The milestones of acquiring land, planting crops, getting married, and having a child would have been the outline of standard life in Meagher’s day. The structure mirrors the character's hopes for new beginnings and potential growth in each short, declarative statement. While readers understand that this is not the life Meagher is destined to lead, the text suggests both the desirability of this kind of domestic arrangement and sets up the losses Meagher will have to bear when it doesn’t pan out.

“In 1852, the year of Meagher’s attempted escape, 100 million tons of gold were exported from Victoria, enough to sink a fleet of the queen’s ships. And in that same year, 300,000 immigrants came to the penal colony—by choice.”

To explain to readers the vast wealth being extracted and the scale of the operations in Victoria, Australia, by British colonizers, Egan paints a gruesome image: The gold weighed enough to "sink a fleet of the queen’s ships," an ironic fate for the vessels designed to transport these riches away. This hyperbole contrasts with the factual mention of "300,000 immigrants" coming to the penal colony by choice, highlighting the allure and paradoxical nature of the destination. The juxtaposition between the immense gold export and the large influx of immigrants underscores the complex economic and social dynamics at play.

“Meagher was crushed. Had he not fled Tasmania, he would be free to return home and pick up his life. Now he would never see Waterford, never sit beside the slow-moving Liffey on a spring afternoon, never reminisce inside the stone walls of his first school, never again see Dublin or the Dingle Peninsula, never take the stage at Conciliation Hall, never reunite with Speranza over dinner or share the verse of Thomas Davis with Duffy.”

Egan employs anaphora—the repetition of the work "never"—to underscore the depth of Meagher's despair and the permanence of his loss. This repetition intensifies the emotional impact, highlighting the myriad experiences and places he will never again enjoy. The specific and nostalgic imagery of places like Waterford, the Liffey, and Dublin, alongside personal connections like Speranza and Thomas Davis, enumerates what Meagher has lost, making his sense of desolation more palpable.

“In the heady days leading to the uprising, whiskey had united the rebels in Dublin and lubricated the first drafts of seditious speeches.”

Metaphor illustrates the unifying and stimulating effects of whiskey on the rebels. The phrase "lubricated the first drafts of seditious speeches" likens the whiskey to oil, suggesting it eased the flow of ideas and speech, highlighting the role of alcohol in fostering camaraderie and rebellious spirit.

“Less than five years after landing on these shores, America had changed Meagher. Now he looked for his chance to change it.”

Egan contrasts Meagher's transformation with his aspirations. The shift from being changed by America to seeking to change it himself underscores a dynamic evolution in his character, reflecting his personal growth and ambition.

“The democracy turned ugly and violent, as the gauze of compromise that held together the largest slaveholding nation in the world started to tear. Americans would kill fellow Americans, it was now clear, over the fate of people with fewer rights than a horse.”

Metaphor conveys the impending collapse of the democracy. The "gauze of compromise" suggests a delicate and tenuous unity, while the image of Americans killing fellow Americans depicts the nation's descent into civil strife. The comparison of enslaved people having fewer rights than horses uses what seems like hyperbole—but is actually a factual statement—to emphasize the severe dehumanization and injustice prevalent at the time, heightening the emotional impact and gravity of the situation.

“Could they kill on close contact, looking into the eyes of men who may have survived the Great Hunger like them, who came across the Atlantic to live, not to die at the hands of a fellow exile?”

A series of rhetorical questions delves into the moral dilemma faced by soldiers. The direct questioning of their ability to kill on close contact, while looking into the eyes of men who shared their experiences, underscores the shared humanity and tragedy of war. This questioning highlights the internal conflict and evokes reflection on the horrors of fratricide among exiles.

“More than a nod to ethnic tolerance, Lincoln needed the nearly two million Irish in the country to fight for a splintered nation. Northern factory owners, businessmen and Main Street merchants weren’t about to give up their livelihoods to risk death in the South.”

Egan contrasts Lincoln's political need for ethnic tolerance with his pragmatic need for Irish soldiers. The comparison of Lincoln's necessity for Irish fighters with the reluctance of Northern factory owners and businessmen to risk their own lives illustrates the conflicting priorities and the economic motivations underlying the war effort. It also sets up the eventual riots in New York over the draft, which “Northern factory owners, businessmen and Main Street merchants” had the wealth to avoid.

“War was not fit for poetry. Back in New York, he told Libby what he’d seen and what he’d heard: a horse shredded, a boy suddenly blind and crying for his mother, prayers and curses, one and the same. It was not glorious at all—‘men I knew and loved, and they lie there in the rich sunshine discolored and cold in death.’”

To convey the horrors of war, Egan describes a horse being shredded, a boy suddenly going blind, and the mingling of prayers and curses, painting a picture of the battlefield by focusing on small details. The juxtaposition of poetic ideals with the gruesome sights and sounds Meagher experienced shatters any romanticized notions of war. The final reflection on the men he knew and loved lying discolored and cold in death further underscores the reality of combat as a source of loss and disillusionment.

“Just keep saying it, to yourself and your men. Never forget what the dying is for. But in truth, how could these sickly and broken-boned boys force the British Empire to give up control of Ireland? Better to think of something else, to think of his wife, and how war sharpened the senses for love.”

Egan explores the emotional turmoil of war through imagined interior monologue—one of the ways his biography deviates from strict academic discipline. The repetition of the phrase "just keep saying it" highlights the desperation to maintain morale and purpose amidst the overwhelming odds. The description of "sickly and broken-boned boys" underscores the untested youth of the soldiers, contrasting their malnourished frames with the professional army of the British Empire. The shift to thoughts of Meagher’s wife juxtaposes the tenderness of personal relationships with the brutality of war.

“They could cite the cause of holding together a nation that had sheltered them after a genocidal famine, and they would. But there was no getting around history’s anchor: the men of the Irish Brigade had died to free the black slaves of America.”

Referring to history as an "anchor" suggests the weight and inescapability of past events, and the grounding and often burdensome nature of historical legacy. The reference to the Irish Brigade dying "to free the black slaves of America" ties their sacrifice to a larger, morally significant cause, despite their own complex motivations and histories.

“But after he’d held the line of a panicky retreat by other regiments at Bull Run, after he’d saved a division outside Richmond, after he took the Sunken Road at Antietam and now had seen his most hardened men cut to flesh bits on the cold ground below Marye’s Heights, after he’d been twice thrown from his horse in this war—the political general was due some respect.”

The listing of Meagher’s achievements—holding the line at Bull Run, saving a division outside Richmond, taking the Sunken Road at Antietam, and enduring personal injuries—cumulatively justifies the admiration he earned. The parallelism and repetition of "after he'd" emphasizes the accumulation of deeds and the progression of experiences. The imagery of "most hardened men cut to flesh bits on the cold ground" at Marye’s Heights underscores the reality and high stakes of the battles he faced.

“In the colonel’s den, enraged men slashed a portrait of Meagher. The face of the general, the man who had been hailed a decade earlier as the Irish American savior—‘a chief to unite and guide them’—was cut and trampled and burned in the bonfire of hatred in Nugent’s home.”

The act of slashing Meagher's portrait and burning it in a bonfire—a kind of execution in effigy—symbolizes the destruction of his reputation and the betrayal of his former admirers. Egan implies that Meagher’s experiences are a microcosm of the falling status of Irish immigrants in America.

“Further, he saw them as subhuman, as he recorded in his private notes—‘creatures that crawl and eat dirt and poison every community they infest.’ He wanted them gone from the country. ‘For myself, personally, I would like to see war made on Irish scum.’”

Quoting the speaker’s words expresses his deep-seated prejudice and racism better than any description Egan could offer: Readers are shocked by the description of the Irish as vermin "that crawl and eat dirt and poison every community they infest"—language that dehumanizes them by using animalistic and toxic imagery to emphasize the speaker's contempt. The phrase "Irish scum" further illustrates the extreme derogation, while the mention of making war on them explicitly suggests a genocidal racism.

“He recalled how difficult it was as a Young Ireland revolutionary to praise the United States, the enlightened democracy that had thrown off the British Empire, while trying to ignore that country’s slavery—‘the cancerous disease, the glaring disgrace of this great nation and a violent contradiction of the principles on which it was established.’”

Egan highlights the moral conflict faced by the revolutionary. Praising the United States for its democratic ideals while grappling with the reality of the institution of slavery creates a paradoxical contrast. The metaphor "the cancerous disease" and "the glaring disgrace" underscores the contradiction between the country's foundational principles and its practice of slavery, emphasizing the internal struggle to reconcile these opposing realities.

“He had tried, like Meagher, to slough off the hatred that came his way in the first year of liberation for slaves. ‘Abraham Africanus,’ his opponents called him—a dictator, a king, a tyrant.”

The term "Abraham Africanus" was a derogatory epithet applied to Abraham Lincoln. The nickname has several valences. First, by echoing the name of famed ancient Roman general Scipio Africanus, the mocking taunt suggests that Lincoln is also a dictator or tyrant eager for conquest. At the same time, the geographic moniker connects Lincoln to the cause of the enslaved people he wanted to free, whose origins in Africa are transferred to him here. This highlights the intense animosity to and racist backlash against abolition.

“In a life of inexhaustible political pugilism, he’d fought the British Empire, the Know-Nothings and the Confederate States of America. A handful of self-appointed moral wardens in the vastness of the Rocky Mountain West did not make him cower.”

The phrase "fought the British Empire, the Know-Nothings, and the Confederate States of America" employs polysyndeton by repeatedly using "and," which adds a rhythmic and cumulative effect to the list of formidable adversaries. The alliteration, or repetition of the first sound, in the phrase "inexhaustible political pugilism" likens Meagher’s political battles to a never-ending boxing match, underscoring his resilience and determination.

“Thomas Meagher was recalling his own people’s years of starvation, his own fight against occupiers intent on emasculating a nation, outlawing a religion, banning a language, during his first journey to see the natives of Montana Territory.”

The juxtaposition of Meagher’s memories of starvation and oppression against his new experience highlights the ongoing struggle against injustice and the continuity of resistance across different contexts. The imagery of "emasculating a nation, outlawing a religion, banning a language" evokes the harsh measures used by colonizers to extinguish a culture, drawing a parallel between the Irish and Indigenous peoples in the US.