Of the many colourful characters - real, fictional or thinly disguised - introduced by James Joyce in Ulysses, one of the most intriguing must surely be James ("Skin-the-Goat") FitzHarris, who is mentioned twice in the novel. I knew a man who knew FitzHarris personally and he told me the story years before I attempted, eventually, to read Ulysses.Richard Roche writes
James FitzHarris's unsought fame - and consequent mention in the famous novel - arose from his alleged involvement in the so-called Phoenix Park murders on May 6th, 1882 (not incidentally, 1881, as Joyce has one of his characters recall). On that momentous occasion Lord Frederick Cavendish, the newly appointed Chief Secretary, and Thomas Burke, Under-Secretary, were assassinated by members of The Invincibles, a secret political organisation, aligned with the Fenians.
FitzHarris was a native of Co Wexford, where he was born into an evicted farming family at Clonee, near Ferns, in 1833. He was reared in a disturbed society with hunger (after bad harvests) and illness (from cholera) commonplace. Like many young countrymen of his generation he was forced to seek a living in Dublin where he was hired as a cab-driver.
It was from this occupation that his unusual nickname derived. It is said that one day he found a goat plucking at the straw with which his horse's collar was filled. He killed the goat on the spot, skinned it and used the dried hide as a cover for his knee while driving the cab. From then on, he was known as "Skin-the-Goat" FitzHarris and as such is remembered in Ulysses.
Whether or not FitzHarris was a member of The Invincibles has never been determined but, about eight months after the assassinations, he was among a number of men arrested and put on trial. The manner of his arrest was unorthodox, to say the least. He had often been hired by Supt John Mallon, head of G Division at Dublin Castle to get around the city. Mallon hired FitzHarris one day, drove about the city for a while, then ordered him to drive to the central police station. There he was swiftly taken into custody, questioned and imprisoned.
It was proved that he had driven two members of The Invincibles to the Phoenix Park on the day of the killings but he protested his innocence in the bloody affair and maintained a dignified silence for the rest of the trial - despite offers of a huge reward and inducements to turn informer. Five men were sentenced and executed for the crime and FitzHarris was sentenced to penal servitude for life. After spending nearly 16 years in jail in Downpatrick and Maryborough he was released on August 22nd, 1899, an old, broken man.
This is where my friend, the late Comdt William J. Brennan-Whitmore, 1916 veteran, Sinn Féin activist, farmer, writer and publisher, took up the story. As a boy reared on his uncle James Brennan's farm at Clonee he knew the FitzHarris family and was keenly aware of James FitzHarris's fate.
"Skin-the-Goat's" trial and imprisonment would have made sensational news in the locality - but everyone was astounded by his unexpected homecoming. He had been taken to Dublin after his release and, on August 25th, was given a train ticket to Camolin, the nearest station to Clonee. There was nobody there to meet him so he walked, alone and unrecognised, to his brother's house a few miles away. His brother's wife, was the only person there; everybody else was over at the Brennan-Whitmore home where the corn was being threshed.
A few nights later an extraordinary scene was witnessed by Brennan-Whitemore at the FitzHarris cottage. James, a stooped, white-haired figure, stood in the crowded kitchen and recited a ballad of his own making about his grim experiences. He repeated his words at his trial: "I come from Sliabh Buidhe, a place where a crow never flew over the head of an informer" - undoubtedly an allusion to James Carey, one of The Invincibles who did inform and who was later shot dead on his way to South Africa.
There was little for a convicted "anarchist" to do in Co Wexford at this time. It is said that FitzHarris emigrated to America but was deported because of his criminal conviction. Eventually he returned to Dublin, where he obtained a miserably paid job as a night watchman for Dublin Corporation. Joyce has him still operating as a cabbie in 1904, but he may well be mistaken in this.
FitzHarris died on September 6th, 1910, in the South Dublin Union workhouse where he had been living in penury. The following day the London Times honoured this simple but courageous Wexford man with an obituary. His death certificate noted that he was married but little is known of his wife or family.
However, from him and his brother Andrew, there are many descendants living today in Ireland, England and New Zealand and, although one of them once said that James was "not worth talking about", others are quietly proud of their connection with this unusual character.
I myself was a class-mate of another descendant, also names James FitzHarris, at national school in Duncormick, Co Wexford. He often mentioned his famed ancestor in later life, according to one of his still living relatives.
Such are the memories sparked by a rereading of Ulysses in this centenary year of 2004.