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SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK;
Or, protests of IRISH PATRIOTISM.
THE MANCHESTER TRAGEDY, AND THE CRUISE OP THE PACKET JACKMEL
"THE WEARING OF THE GREEN;"
Oii«THS PROSBCUTfiD FUNERAL PROCBSSIQN, BlC
r. D. SULLIVAN, A. M. SULLIVAN, and D. H SULLIVAH
CONTAININO
With Introductory Sketches and Biographical Notices, Speeches delivered
in the Dock, by
THEOBALD WOLFE TONE, WILLL\M ORR, THE BROTHERS SHEARES, ROBERT EMMET, THOMAS RUSSELL, JOHN MITCHEL, JOHN MARTIN, (1848) WILLIAM SMITH O'BRIEN, THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER, TERENCE BELLEW MacMANUS WILLIAM P. ALLEN, MICHAEL LARKIN, MICHAEL O'BRIEN THOMAS C. LUBY,
JOHN O'LEARY, CHARLES J. KICKHAM, J. O'DONOVAN ROSSA, COLONEL THOMAS F. BURKB, CAPTAIN JOHN McAFFERTY, STEPHEN J. MEANY, EDWARD DUFFY, CAPTAIN JOHN McCLURE, JOHN EDWARD KELLY, COLONEL JOHN WARREN, AUGUSTINE E. COSTELLO, CAPTAIN MACKAY, A. M. SULLIVAN, JOHN MARTIN, (186^
NEW YORK: P. J. KENEDY, Excelsior Cattt-lic Pu3li=hing House, 5 Barclay StreBT.
1904.
MICHAEL D.lYiTT.
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MISS FAIVNF PARNELL, Financial J9e«'rftnr.y of tli« *' L<a«Ue»* l^au^ l^ioataril^^
PART 1.
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK;
cm
PROTESTS OF IRISH PATRIOTISM.
SPEECHES DELIVERED AFTER CONVICTION,
BY
THEOBALD WOLFE TONS,
WILLIAM ORR,
THE BROTHERS SHEARES,
ROBERT EMMET,
JOHN MARTIN, (1848)
WILLIAM SMITH O'BRIEN,
THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER,
TERENCE BELLEW MacMANUI, JOHN MITCHEL, THOMAS C. LUBY, JOHN O'LEARY, CHARLES J. KICKHAM, COLONEL THOMAS F. BURKB, CAPTAIN MACKAY.
Freedom's battle, once be^n,— Bequeath" d from bleeding sire to BOO,-* Though baffled oft, is ever woo."
NEW YORK: f, J. KENEDY, Excelsior Catholic Publishing House, 5 Barclay Street.
JOSTOlsT
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TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PART I.
Bv Page.
Introductory D. B. S. . . 7
Theobald Wolfe Tone T. D. S. . . 13
William Orr D. B. S. . . 27
Henry and John Sheares D. B. S. . 31
Robert Emmet T. D. S. . . 37
Thomas Russell D. B. S. . . 52
John Mitchel T. D. S. . . 69
John Martin D. B. S. . . 89
W. S. O'Brien D. B. S. . , 103
T. F. Meagher D. B. S. . . 128
Kevin Izod O'Doherty D. B. S. . . 138
Terence Bellew MacManus D. B. S. . 142
Thomas Clarke Luby T. D. S. . . 146
John O'Leary T. D. S. . . 162
J. O' Donovan (Rossa) T. D. S. . . 165
Bryan Dillon, John Lynch, and others . . . T. D. S. . . 167
Charles J. Kickham T. D. S. . . 177
Thomas F. Burke D. B. S. . . 180
John M'Afferty T. D. S. . . 191
Edward Duffy, S. J. Meaney, and John McClure T. D. S. . . 195
Edward Kelly and Captain Mackay . . . . T. D. S. . . 210
PART II.
The Dock and the Scaffold . . . . A. M. S. and D. B. S. . 233
The Cruise of the Jackmel (Colonel War- ren, Augustine E. Costello, General W. Halpin) T. D. S. . . 291
PART III.
The Wearing of the Green; or, the Prosecuted
Funeral Procession A. M. S . . 327
I^
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SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
INTRODUCTORY.
'o the lovers of Ireland— to those who sympathize with her sufferings and resent her wrongs, there can be few things more interesting than the history of the strug- 'M, gles which sprang from devotion to her cause, and (3 were consecrated by the blood of her patriots. The ^ efforts of the Irish race to burst the fetters that for- eign force and native dissensions imposed on them, and elevate their country from bondage and degradation tc a place amongst free nations, f^ll a page in the world's history which no lover of freedom can read without emotion, and which must excite wonder, admiration, and regret in the mind of every man with whom patriotism is not a reproach, and who can sympathize with a cause ennobled by fidelity and sacrifice, and sanctified by the blood and tears of a nation. '' How hands so vile could conquer hearts so brave," is the question which our National Poet supposes to arise in the mind of the stranger, as he looks on the spectacle of Ireland in her decay; but another question will suggest itself to those who study the history of our country ; it is, how a feeling so deeply rooted as the love of independence is in the hearts of the Irish people— an aspiration so warmly and so widely entertained— which has been clung to with so much persistency— which has survived through centuries of persecution— for which generations have arisen, anc fought, and bled, and dashed themselves against the power of England
g SFEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
with a succession as unbroken as that of the waves upon our shores — a cause so universally loved, so deeply reverenced, and so unflinchingly supported by a brave and intrepid race, should never have attained the blessing of success. A more signal in- stance than that which Ireland can supply of the baffling of a nation'b hope, the prolonged fiustration of a people's will, is not on record ; and few even of those who most condemn the errors and weakness by which Irishmen themselves have re- tarded the national object, will hesitate to say that they have given to mankind the noblest proof they possess of the vitality of the principles of freedom, and the indestructibility of national sentiment.
It is for us, however, Irish of the Irish, that the history of the struggle for Ireland's rights possesses most attractions. We live amidst the scenes where the battles against the stranger were fought, and where the men who waged them lived and died. The bones of the patriots who labored for Ireland, and of those who died for her, repose in the graveyards around us; and we have still amongst us the inheritors of their blood, their name, and their spirit. It was to make us free — to render independent and prosperous the nation to which we belong- that the pike was lifted and the green flag raised ; and it was in furtherance of this object, on which the hearts of Irishmen are still set, that the men whose names shine through the pages on which the story of Ireland's struggles for national existence is written, suffered and died. To follow out that mournful but absorbing story is not, however, the object aimed at in the fol- lowing pages. The history of Ireland is no longer a sealed volume to the people; more than one author h?s told it truth- fully and well, and the list of books devoted to it is every day receiving valuable accessions. Nor has it even been attempted, in this little work, though trenching more closely on its subject, to trace the career and sketch the lives of the men who fill the foremost places in the ranks of Ireland's political martyrs. In the subjoined pages little more will be found than a correct re- port of the addresses delivered, under certain peculiar circum-
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
9
stances, by the group of Irishmea whose names are given on the title page. A single public utterance from the lips of each of these gentlemen is all that we have printed, though it would be easy to supplement them in nearly every case by writings and speeches owning a similar authorship, equally eloquent, and equally patriotic. But the speeches given here are associated with facts which give them peculiar value and significance, and were spoken under circumstances which lend to them a solemn interest and impressiveness which could not otherwise be ob- tained. They reach us — these dock speeches, in which nobility of purpose and chivalrous spirit is expressed — like voices from the tomb, like messages from beyond the grave, brimful of les- sons of dignity and patriotism. We can see the men who spoke them standing before the representatives of the government whose oppression had driven them to revolt, when the solemn farce of trying them for a crime which posterit)^ will account a virtue had terminated, and when the verdict of "guilty" had gladdened the hear^-s of their accusers. The circumstances under which they spoke might well cause a bold man to falter. They were about parting forever from all that makes life dear to man; and, for some of them, the sentence which was to cut short the thread of their existence, to consign them to a bloody and ignominious death, to leave their bodies mutilated corpses, from which the rights of Christian burial were to be withheld — which was to assign them the death of a dog, and to follow them with persecuting hand into the valley of death — was about to fall from the lips of the judges whom they addressed. Against others a fate less repulsive, perhaps, to the feelings of humanity, but certainly not more merciful, and hardly less painful and appalling, was about to be decreed. Recent revela- tions have thrown some light on the horrors endured by the Irish political prisoners who languish within the prison-pens of England ; but it needs far more than a stray letter, a half-stifled cry from the dungeon depths, to enable the public to realize the misery, the wretchedness, and the degradation attached to the condition to which England reduces her political convicts.
lO SPEECHES FPOM THE DOCK,
Condemned to associate with the vilest of the scoundrels bred by the immorality and godlessness of England — exposed, with- out possibility of redress, to the persecutions of brutal, coarse« minded men, accustomed to deal only with ruffians than whom beasts are less ferocious and unreclaimable — restricted to a course of discipline which blasts the vigor of the body, and under whose influence reason herself totters upon her throne — the Irish rebel against whom the doom of penal servitude has been pro- nounced is condemned to the most hideous and agonizing pun- ishments to which men of their class could be exposed. It was with such terrors staring them in the face that the men whose words are recorded in this little work delivered their speeches from the dock. It is surely something for us, their countrymen, to boast of, that neither in their bearing nor in their words was there manifested the slightest trace of weakness, the faint- est exhibition of any feeling which could show that their hearts were accessible to the terror which their situation was so well calculated to inspire. No cheek grew pale, no eyes lost their light — their tones were unbroken, and their manner undaunted as ever, as these men uttered the words we purpose recording. Their language tells of minds which persecution could not sub- due, and for which death itself possessed no sting; and the manner in which it was expressed showed that, in their case, elevation of sentiment was allied with unconquerable firmness and resolution. Never were lessons so noble more boldly preached. It is in courts of justice, after all, declares a great English authority, that the lessons of morality are best taught ; and in Ireland the truthfulness of the assertion is estabHshed. But it is not from the bench or the jury-box that the words have fallen in which the cause of morality and justice has been vindicated; venality, passion, and prejudice have but too often swayed the decisions of both ; and it is to the dock we must turn when we seek for honor, integrity, and patriotism.
We owe it to the men who suffered so unflinchingly in the cause of our country, and who have left us so precious a heri- tage in the speeches in which they hurled a last defiance at
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK, \\
their oppressors, that their names should not be forgotten, or the recollection of their acts suffered to grow cold. The no- blest incentive to patriotism, as it is the highest reward which this world can offer those who dare and suffer for fatherland, is the gratitude, the sympathy, and the applause of the people for whom they labored. We owe it to the brave men whose patriotism is attested in the addresses comprised in this volume, that the memory of their noble deeds shall not pass away, and that their names shall remain enshrined in the hearts of their countrymen. They failed, it is true, to accom- plish what they attempted, and the battle to which they devoted themselves has yet to be won; but we know that they, at least, did their part courageously and well ; and, looking back now upon the stormy scenes of their labors, and contrasting the effects of their sacrifices with the cost at which they were made, the people of Ireland are still prepared to accept the maxim that —
•' 'Tis better to have fought and lost, Than never to have fought at all."
While such men can be found to suffer as they have suffered for Ireland, the ultimate triumph of her aspirations cannot be doubted, nor can the national faith be despaired of while it has martyrs so numerous and so heroic. It is by example that the great lessons of patriotism can best be conveyed ; and if the national spirit burn brightly to-day in Ireland — if the spirit of her children be still defiant and unsubdued — if, at home and in the far West, the hearts of the Irish people still throb with the emotions that prompted Emmet and Wolfe Tone — if their eyes are still hot to see the independence of their country, their arms still ready to strike, and their spirit still ready to sacrifice for the accomplishment of that object, we owe the result largely to the men whose names are inscribed in this little work, and whose memory it is intended to perpetuate.
We have commenced our series with the speech of Theobald Wolfe Tone, and our record stretches no further back than the memorable insurrection of lygS. If our object were to group
12 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
together the Irishmen who arc known to have struggled for the independence of their country, and who suffered for their attach- ment to her cause, we might go much farther back into history, and indefinitely increase the bulk of this publication. We fix the insurrection of '98 as the limit of our collection, chiefly because it was at that time trials for high treason in Ireland assumed the precise meaning and significance which they now possess, and there is consequently, in the speeches which follow, such a unity of purpose and sentiment as renders them especially suit- able for presentation in a single volume. Only seventy years have elapsed since Wolfe Tone spoke to the question why sentence should not be pronounced on him — only two-thirds of a century since Emmet vindicated the cause of his country from the Green Street dock, and already what 2 host of imita- tors and disciples have they had ! There is not a country in Europe, there is not a nationality in the world, can produce such another collection as that which we to-day lay before the people of Ireland. We live under a government which claims to be just, liberal, and constitutional, yet against no other gov- ernment in Christendom have the same number of protests been made within the same space of time. Not Poland, not Hungary, not Venetia, can point to such an unbroken succession of pol- itical martyrs. The pages of history contain nothing to com- pare with the little volume we to-day place in the hands of our countrymen ; and we know of no more powerful and eloquent condemnation of the system on which Ireland is governed, than that contained in the simple fact that all those speeches were spoken, all those trials carried out, all those sentences decreed, within the lifetime of a single generation. It is idle to think of subduing a people who make so many sacrifices, and who are undaunted still ; it is vain to think of crushing a spirit which survives so much persecution. The exeuctioner and the gaoler, the gibbet, the block, and the dungeon, have done their work in the crusade against Irish Nationality, and we know what the result is to-day. The words of the last political convict whose name appears in these pages are as uncompromising and as bold
fF=
THEOBALD WOLFE TONE From a Portrait by his Dauffhtcr-in-laic, Mrs, Sampson Tone,
J
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
n
as those of the first of his predecessors ; and, studying the spirit which they have exhibited, and marking the effect of their con- duct on the bulk of their countrymen, it is impossible to avoid the conclusion, that so much persistent resolution and heroism must one day eventuate in success, and that Ireland, the country for which so many brave men have suffered with such unfalter- ing courage, is not destined to disprove the rule that—
" Freedom's battle once begun, —
Bequeath'd from bleeding sire to son"-* Though baffled oft, is ever won."
THEOBALD WOLFE TONE.
O name is more intimately associated with the na- tional movement of 1798 than that of Theobald Wolfe Tone. He was its main-spring, its leading spirit. Many men connected with it possessed, as he did, brilliant talents, unfailing courage and deter- mination, and an intense devotion to the cause ; but the order of his genius raised him above them all, and marked him out from the first as the head and front of the patriot party. He was one of the original founders of the Society of United Irishmen, which was formed in Belfast in the year 1791. In its early days this society was simply a sort of reform associa- tion, a legal and constitutional body, having for its chief object the removal of the frightful oppressions by which the Catholic people of Ireland were tortured and disgraced; but in the troubled and protentous condition of home and foreign poli- tics, the society could not long retain this character. The fu' tility of seeking a redress of the national grievances by parlia- mentary means was becoming apparent to every understanding. The system of outrage and injustice towards the Catholics, un- abating in its severity, continued to exasperate the actual su^er-
H
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
ers and to offend all men of humane feelings and enlightened principles ; and, at the same time, the electric influence of the American War of Independence and the French Revolution was operating powerfully in every heart, evoking there the as- piration for Irish freedom, and inspiring a belief in its possible attainment. In the midst of such exciting circumstances the society could not continue to stand on its original basis. In the year 1794, after a debate among the members, followed by the withdrawal of the more moderate or timid among them from its ranks, it assumed the form and character of a secret revolutionary organization ; and Tone, Thomas Addis Emmet, Samuel Neilson, Thomas Russell, James Napper Tandy, with a number of other patriotic gentlemen in Belfast, Dublin, and other parts of the country, soon found themselves in the full swing of an insurrectionary movement, plotting and planning for the complete overthrow of British power in Ireland. Thence- forward, for some time, the organization went on rapidly, ex- tending through the Province of Ulster, in the first instance, and subsequently over most of the midland and southern coun- ties.
Such was the state of affairs when, in the early part of 1794, an emissary from the French government arrived in Ireland, to ascertain to what extent the Irish people were likely to co-op- perate with France in a war against England. This individual was the Rev. William Jackson, an Irish Protestant clergyman, who had for some years been resident in France, and had be- come thoroucrhlv imbued with Democratic and Republican principles. Unfortunately, he was not one of the most prudent of envoys. He revealed his mission to an acquaintance of his, an English attorney, named Cockayne, who repaid his confi- dence by betraying his secrets to the government. Cockayne was immediately employed as a spy upon Jackson's further proceedings, in which capacity he accompanied his unsuspect- ing victim to Ireland, and acquired cognizance of most of his negotiations. On the 28th of April, 1794, Jackson was arrested on a charge of high treason. He was brought to speedy trial,
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK, IJ
n^as found guilty, but was not sentenced, for, on the day on which the law's award was to have been announced to him, he contrived, before entering the court, to swallow a dose of poison, from the effect of which he expired in the dock. Tone, with whom Jackson was known to have been in confidential commu- nication, was placed by those events in a very critical position ; owing, however, to some influence which had been made with the government on his behalf, he was permitted to exile him- self to America. As he had entered into no engagement with the government regarding his future line of conduct, he made his expatriation the means of forwarding, in the most effective manner, the designs he had at heart. He left Dublin for Phil- adelphia on the 20th of May, 1795. One of his first acts, after arriving, was to present to the French Minister there resident a memorial on the state of Ireland. During the remaining months of the year letters from his old friends came pouring in on him, describing the brightening prospects of the cause at home, and urging him to proceed to the French capital and im- press upon the Directory the policy of despatching at once an expedition to ensure the success of the Irish revolutionary movement.
Tone was not the man to disregard such representations. He had at the time a fair prospect of securing a comfortable in- dependence in America, but with the full concurrence of his heroic wife, who had accompanied him across the Atlantic, he sacrificed those chances and resumed the perilous duties of an Irish patriot. On the ist of January, 1796, he left New York for Paris, to try what he could do as a diplomatist for the cause of Ireland. Arrived at the French capital, he had his business communicated to the Directory through the medium of an Irish gentleman, named Madgett, and also by memorial, representing always that the landing of a force of 20,000 men in Ireland, with a supply of arms for the peasantry, would ensure the sep- aration of Ireland from England. Not satisfied with the slow progress he was thus achieving, he went, on the 24th of Febru. ary, direct to the Luxemburg Palace, and sought and obtained
l6 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCIC.
an interview with the War Minister, the celebrated Carnot, the *' organizer of victory." The Minister received him well, list* cned attentively to his statements, discussed his project with him, and appeared much impressed with the prospects it pre- sented. The result was that on the i6th of December, in the same year, a splendid expedition sailed from Brest for Ireland. It consisted of seventeen sail of the line, thirteen frigates, and fifteen transports, with some smaller craft, and had on board 15,000 troops, with a large supply of arms for the Irish patriots. Tone himself, who had received the rank of Adjutant-General in the French service, was on board one of the vessels. Had this force been disembarked on the shores of Ireland, it is hardly possible to doubt that the separation of this country from Eng- land would have been effected. But the expedition was unfor- tunate from the outset. It was scattered on the voyage during a gale of wind, and the Admiral's vessel, with Hoche, the com- mander, on board, was separated from the others. A portion of the expedition entered the magnificent Bay of Bantry and waited there several days in expectation of being rejoined by the vessel containing the Admiral and commander; but they waited in vain. Tone vehemently urged that a landing should be effected with the forces then at hand — some 6,500 men — but the officers procrastinated, time was lost, the wind, which had been blowing from the east (that is out the harbor), rose to a perfect hurricane, and on the 27th and 28th of the month the vessels cut their cables and made the best of their way for France.
This was a terrible blow to the hopes of the Irish organizer. Rage and sadness filled his heart by turns as the fierce storm blew his vessel out of the bay and across the sea to the land which he had left under such favorable auspices. But yet he did not resign himself to despair. As the patient spider renews her web again and again after it has been torn asunder, so did this indefatigable patriot set to work to repair the misfortune that had occurred, and to build up another project of assistance for his unfortunate country. His perseverance was not unpro-
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 1 7
ductive of results. The Batavian or Dutch Republic, then in alliance with France, took up the project that had failed in the Bay of Bantry. In the month of July, 1797, they had assem- bled in the Texel an expedition for the invasion of Ireland, nearly, if not quite, as formidable in men and ships as that which had left Brest in the previous year. Tone was on board the flag-ship, even more joyous and hopeful than he had been on the preceding occasion. But again, as if by some extraor- dinary fatality, the weather interposed an obstacle to the reali- zation of the design. The vessels were ready for sea, the troops were on board, nothing was wanted but a slant of wind to en- able the fleet to get out. But for five weeks it continued to blow steadily in the adverse direction. The supplies ran low ; the patience of the officers, and of the government, became ex- hausted— the troops were disembarked and the project aban- doned ! The second failure in a matter of such weight and im- portance was a heavy blow to the heart of the brave Tone. Elaborate and costly efforts like those which had ended so poorly, he felt could not often be repeated ; the drift of the war was cutting out other work for the fleets and armies of France and her allies, and the unwelcome conviction began to settle darkly on his mind that never again would he see such a vision of hope for dear Ireland, as that which had shone be- fore him on these two occasions, and vanished in doubt and gloom.
Yet there was no need to despair. Assurances reached Tone every day that the defeat and humiliation of England was a set- tled resolve of the French government, one which they would never abandon. And for a time everything seemed to favor the notion that a direct stroke at the heart of England was intended. In the latter part of 1797 the Directory ordered the formation of ''The Army of England," the command of which was given to General Bonaparte. Tone's heart again beat high with hope, for now matters looked more promising than ever. He was in constant communication with some of the chief officers of the expedition, and in the month of December he had sev-
1 8 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
eral interviews with Bonaparte himself, which, however, he could hardly consider of a satisfactory nature. On the 20th of May, 1798, General Bonaparte embarked on board the fleet at Tou- Ion and sailed off — not for Ireland or England, but for Egypt, On the Irish leaders at home these repeated disappointments fell with terrible effect. The condition of the country was daily growing more critical. The government, now thoroughly roused and alarmed, and persuaded that the time for ''vigorous meas- ures" had arrived, was grappling with the conspiracy in all di- rections. Still those men would, if they could, have got the people to possess their souls in patience, and wait for aid from abroad before unfurling the banner of insurrection ; for they were constant in their belief that without the presence of a dis- ciplined army on Irish soil to consolidate their strength and di- rect it, a revolutionary effort of the Irish people could end only in disaster. But the government had reasons of their own for wishing to set an Irish rebellion afoot at this time, and they took measures to precipitate the rising. The arrest of the dele- gates at the house of Oliver Bond in Dublin, and the capture of Lord Edward Fitzgerald contributed to this end ; but these things the country might have peaceably endured, if no more dreadful trial had been put upon it. What could not be en- dured was the system of riot, and outrage, and murder, to which the unfortunate peasantry were then given over. Words fail to describe its cruelty and its horrors. It was too much for human nature to bear. On the 23rd of May, three days after Bonaparte had sailed from Toulon for Alexandria, the Irish in- surrection broke out. The news of the occurrence created the most intense excitement among the Irish refugees then in Paris. Tone rushed to and fro, to the Directory and to the gen- erals, pleading for the dispatch of some assistance to his strug- gling countrymen. Various plans were suggested and taken into consideration, but while time was being wasted in this way, the military forces of the British government were rapidly sup- pressing the insurrection of the unarmed and undisciplined Irish peasantry. In this condition of affairs, a gallant but rash and
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. ig
indiscreet French officer, General Humbert, resolved that he would commit the Directory to action, by starting at once with a small force for the coast of Ireland. Towards the middle of August, calling together the merchants and magistrates of Rochelle, " he forced them to advance a small sum of money, and all that he wanted, on military requisition ; and embarking on board a few frigates and transports with i,ooo men, i,ooo spare muskets, i,cxx) guineas, and a few pieces of artillery, he compelled the captains to set sail for the most desperate at- tempt which is, perhaps, recorded in history " Three Irishmen were on board the fleet — Matthew Tone, brother to Theobald, Bartholomew Teeling, and Sullivan, an officer in the French service, who was enthuiastically devoted to the Irish cause, and had rendered much aid to his patriotic countrymen in France. Humbert landed at Killala, routed with his little handful of men a large force of the royal troops, and held his ground until General Lake, with 20,000 men, marched against him. After a resistance sufficient to maintain the honor of the French arms, Humbert's little force surrendered as prisoners of war. The Irish who had joined his standard were shown no mercy. The peasantry were cruelly butchered. Of those who had accom- panied him from France, Sullivan, who was able to pass as a Frenchman, escaped ; Teeling and Matthew Tone were brought in irons to Dublin, tried, and executed. The news of Hum- bert's expedition and the temporary success that had attended it created much excitement in France, and stirred up the Di- rectory to attempt something for Ireland more worthy of the fame and power of the French nation, and more in keeping with their repeated promises to the leaders of the Irish move- ment. But their fleet was at the time greatly reduced, and their resources were in a state of disorganization. They mustered for the expedition only one sail of the line and eight small frigates, commanded by Commodore Bompart, conveying 5,000 men, under the leadership of General Hardy. On board the Admiral's vessel, which was named the Hoche, was the heroic Theobald Wolfe Tone. He knew this expedition had no chance
20 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCIT,
of success, but he had all along declared, " that if the govern- ment sent only a corporal's guard, he felt it his duty to go along with them." The vessels sailed on the 20th of September, 1798; it was not till the nth of October that they arrived off Lough Swilly — simultaneously with an English squadron that had been on the lookout for them. The English ships were about equal in number to the French, but were of a larger class, and carried a much heavier armament. The French Admiral directed some of his smaller craft to endeavor to escape by means of their light draught of water, and he counselled Tone to transfer himself to that one of them which had the best chance of getting away. The Frenchmen, he observed, would be made prisoners of war, but for the Irish rebel a worse fate was reserved if he should fall into the hands of his enemies. But to this suggestion the noble-hearted Tone declined to ac- cede. "Shall it be said," he replied, ''that I fled while the French were fighting the battles of my country?" In a little time the Hochewas surrounded by four sail of the line and one frigate, who poured their shot into her upon all sides. During six hours she maintained the unequal combat, fighting "till her masts and rigging were cut away, her scuppers flowed with blood, her wounded filled the cockpit, her shattered ribs yawned at each new stroke, and let in five feet of water in the hold, her rudder was carried off, and she floated a dismantled wreck on the water ; her sails and cordage hung in shreds, nor could she reply with a single gun from her dismounted batteries to the unabating cannonade of the enemy." During the action Tone commanded one of the batteries, "and fought with the utmost desperation, as if he was courting death." But, as often has happened in similiar cases, death seemed to shun him, and he was reserved for a more tragic fate.
The French officers who survived the action, and had been made prisoners of war, were, some days subsequently, invited to breakfast with the Earl of Cavan, who commanded in the district in which they had been landed. Tone, who up to that time, had escaped recognition, was one of the party, and sat
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 21
undistinguished among them, until Sir George Hill, who had been a fellow-student of his in Trmity College, entered the room, and accosted him by his name. This was done, not inadvertently, but with the intention of betraying him. In a moment he was in the hands of a party of military and police, who were in waiting for him in the next room. Seeing that they were about to put him in fetters, he complained in- dignantly of the offering of such an insult to the uniform which he wore, and the rank — that of chef de brigade — which he bore in the French army. He cast off his regimentals, protested that they should not be so sullied, and then, offer- ing his lips to the irons, exclaimed — '' For the cause which I have embraced, I feel prouder to wear these chains, than if I were decorated with the Star and Garter of England." He was hurried off to Dublin, and though the ordinary tribunals were sitting at the time, and the military tribunals could have no claim on him, as he had never belonged to the English army, he was put on his trial before a court-martial. This was abso- lutely an illegal proceeding, but his enemies were impatient for his blood, and would not brook the chances and the delays of the ordinary procedure of law. On the loth of November, 1798, his trial, if such it might be called, took place in one of the Dublin barracks. He appeared before the court, "■ dressed," says the Dublin Magazine for November, 1798, "in the French uniform , a large cocked hat, with broad gold lace, and the tri- colored cockade , a blue uniform coat, with gold-embroidcrcd collar and two large gold epaulets ; blue pantaloons, with gold- laced garters at the knees ; and short boots, bound at the tops with gold lace." In his bearing there was no trace of excite- ment. *' The firmness and cool serenity of his whole deport- ment," writes his son, " gave to the awe-struck assembly the measure of his soul." The proceedings of the court are detailed in the following report, which we copy from the "• Life of Tone," by his son, published at Washington, U S., in 1826:—
The members of the court having been sworn, the Judge Advocate
22 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
called on the prisoner to plead guilty or not guilty to the charge of having acted traitorously and hostilely against the king. Tone re- plied:—
" I mean not to give the court any useless trouble, and wish to spare them the idle task of examining witnesses. I admit all the facts alleged, and only request leave to read an address which I have pre- pared for this occasion."
Colonel Daly. — "I must warn the. prisoner that, in acknowledging those /^^/j-, he admits, to his prejudice, that he has acted traitorously against his Majesty. Is such his intention ?"
Tone — "Stripping this charge of the technicality of its terms, it means, I presume, by the word traitorously, that I have been found in arms against the soldiers of the king in my native country. I admit this accusation, in its most extended sense, and request again to explain to the court the reasons and motives of my conduct."
The court then observed they would hear his address, provided he kept himself within the bounds of moderation.
Tone rose, and began in these words — "Mr. President, and gentle- men of the court-martial, — I mean not to give you the trouble of bringing judicial proof to convict me legally of having acted in hostil- ity to the government of his Britannic Majesty in Ireland. I admit fhe fact. From my earliest youth I have regarded the connection between Great Britain and Ireland as the curse of the Irish nation, and felt con- vinced that, whilst it lasted, this country could never be free nor happy. My mind has been confirmed in this opinion by the experi- ence of every succeeding year, and the conclusions which I have drawn from every fact before my eyes. In consequence, I was deter- mined to employ all the powers which my individual efforts could move, in order to seperate the two countries. That Ireland was not able of herself to throw off the yoke, I knew ; I therefore sought for aid wherever it was to be found. In honorable poverty I rejected offers which, to a man in my circumstances, might be considered highly advantageous. I remained faithful to what I thought the cause of my country ; and sought in the French Republic an ally to rescue three millions of mv countrvmen from — "
The President here interrupted the prisoner, observing that this lan- guage was neither relevant to the charge, nor such as ought to be de- livered in a public court.
A member said it seemed calculated only to inflame the minds of a certain description of people (the United Irishmen), many of whom might be present, and that the court could not suffer it.
The Judge Advocate said — " If Mr. Tone meant this paper to be laid before his Excellency in^-way of extemialion, it must have quite a contrary effect, if the foregoing part was suffered to remain." The President wound up by calling on the prisoner to hesitate before pro- ceeding further in the same strain.
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
23
Tone then continued — "I believe there is nothing in what remains io\ me to say, which can give offence ; I mean to express my feelings and gratitude towards the Catholic body, in whose cause I was en- gaged."
President—" That seems to have nothing to say to the charge against you, to which you are only to speak. If you have anything to offer in defence or extenuation of the charge, the court wi.l hear you, but they beg you will confine yourself to that subject."
Tone — " I shall then confine myself to some points relative to my connections with the French arm^ . Attached to no party in the :.'rench Republic — without interest, v/ithout money, without intri^uc^^the openness and integrity of my views raised me to a hi^h and confiden- tial rank in its armies. I obtained the confidence of the Executive Directory, the approbation of iny generals, and I wil2 venture to add, the esteem and affection of my brave comrades. When I review these circumstances, I feel a secret and internal consolation, which no reverse of fortune, no sentence in the power of this court to i iflict, can deprive me of, or weaken in any degree. Under the flag of the French Republic I originally enr^aged with a view to save rnd liberate my own country. For that purpose I have encountered the chances of war amongst strangers ; for that purpose I repeatedly braved the terrors of the ocean, covered, as I knew it to be, wi'h the triumphant fleets of that power which it was my glory and my duty to oppose. I have sacrificed all my views in life ; I have courted poverty ; I have left a beloved wife unprotected, and children whom I adored father- less. After such a sacrifice, in a cause which I have always considered — conscientiously considered — as the cause of justice and freedom, it is no great effort, at this day, to add the sacrifice of my life. But I hear it is said that this unfortunate country has been a prey to all sorts of horrors. I sincerely lament it. I beg, however, that it may be re irdn- Dered that I have been absc.it four years from Ireland. To me muse sufferings can nevo- be attributed. I designed by fair and open war to procure the sep::.ration of two countries. For open war I was prepared, but instead of that a system of private assassination has taken place. I repeat, whilst I deplore it, that it is not chargeable on me. Atrocities, it seems, have been committed on both sides. I do not less deplore them. I detest them from my heart ; and to those who know my character and sentiments, I nay safely appeal for the truth of this assertion ; with them I need no justification. In a case like this success is everything. Success, in the eyes of i-ie vulgar, fixes its merits. Washington succeeded, and Kosciusko frilcd. After a com- bat nobly susta^led — a coL.bat which would hav: excited the respect and sympathy of a ijencrous enemy — my fate ha^: been to 7oecome a prisoner, to the eternal disgrace of those './ho gave Che orders. I was brought here in irons like a felon. I mention this for the sake of others; for me, I am indifferent to it. I am aware of the f^te which awaitg
24 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
me, and scorn equally the tone of complaint, and that of supplicati'^n. As to the connection between this country and Great Britain, I repeat it — all that has been imputed to me (words, writings, and actionsj, I here deliberately avow. I have spoken and acted with reflection, and on principle, and am ready to meet the consequences. Whatever be the sentence of the court, I am prepared for it. Its members will surely discharge their duty — I shall take care not to be wanting in mine."
The court having asked if he wished to make any further observa- tion—
Tone said — "I wish to offer a few words relative to one single point — the mode of punishment. In France our gmigrees, who stand nearly in the same situation in which I now stand before you, are con- demned to be shot. I ask that the court adjudge me the death of a soldier, and let me be shot by a platoon of grenadiers, I request this indulgence rather in consideration of the uniform I wear — the uni- form of a ch(f de bridage in the French army — than from any personal regard to himself. In order to evince my claim to this favor, I beg that -the court may take the trouble to peruse my commission and letters of service in the French army. It will appear from these papers that I have not received them as a mask to cover me, but that I have been long and bona fide an officer in the French service."
Judge Advocate. — "You must feel that the papers you allude to will serve as undeniable proof against you."
Tone. — " Oh, I know they will. I have already admitted the facts, and I now admit the papers as full proof of conviction."
[The papers were then examined ; they consisted of a brevet of chef de brigade from the Directory, signed by the Minister of War, of a let- ter of service granting to him the rank of Adjutant-General, and of a passport.]
General Loftus. — " In these papers you are designated as serving in the army of England."
Tone. — "I did serve in that army, when it was commanded by Bonaparte, by Dcssaix, and by Kilmaine, who is, as I am, an Irishman ; but I have also served elsewhere."
The Court requested if he had anything further to observe.
H«- said that nothing more occurred to him, except that the sooner his Excellency's approbation of the sentence was obtained the better.
This is Tone's speech, as reported in the public prints at that time, but the recently-published ** Correspondence" of Lord Cornwallis — Lord-Lieutenant in these days — supplies a portion of the address which was never before published, the Court having forbade the reading of it at the trial. The pas- sage contains a noble outburst of gratitude towards the Catho-
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK, 25
lies of Ireland. Tone himself, as every reader is aware, was a Protestant, and there can have been no reason for its suppres- sion except the consideration that it was calculated to still more endear the prisoner to the hearts of his countrymen. We now reprint it, and thus place it for the first time before the people for whom it was written —
"I have labored to create a people in Ireland by raising three millions of my countrymen to the rank of citizens. I have labored to abolish the infernal spirit of religious persecution, by uniting the Catholics and Dissenters. To the former I owe more than ever can be repaid. The services I was so fortunate as to render them they rewarded munificently ; but they did more : when the public cry was raised against me — when the friends of my youth swarmed off and left me alone — the Catholics did not desert me ; they had the virtue even to sacrifice their own in- terests to a rigid principle of honor ; they refused, though strongly urged, to disgrace a man who, whatever his conduct towards the government might have been, had faithfully and conscientiously dis- charged his duty towards them ; and in so doing, though it was in my own case, I will say they showed an instance of public virtue of which I know not whether there exists another example."
The sad sequel of those proceedings is soon told. The re- quest of the prisoner to receive a military execution was refused by the Viceroy, Lord Cornwallis, and Tone was sen- tenced to die "the death of a traitor," within forty-eight hours from the time of his conviction. But he— influenced, it must be confessed, by a totally mistaken feeling of pride, and yield- mg to a weakness which every Christian heart should be able to conquer — resolved that, rather than allow his enemies to have the satisfaction of dangling his body from a gibbet, he would become his own executioner. On the night of the nth of November he contrived, while lying unobserved in his cell, to open a vein in his neck with a penknife. No intelligence of this fact had reached the public when, on the morning of the I2th,the intrepid and eloquent advocate, John Philpot Curran, made a motion in the Court of King's Bench for a writ of habeas corpus, to withdraw the prisoner from the custody of the military authorities, and transfer him to the charge of the civil power. The motion was granted immediately, Mr. Curran
^. W^:.
m-^ W:^
I
24
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
me, and scorn equally the tone of complaint, and that oi supplicatif^n. As to the connection between this country and Great Britain, I repeat it — all that has been imputed to me (words, writings, and actions), I here deliberately avow. I have spoken and acted with reflection, and on principle, and am ready to meet the consequences. Whatever be the sentence of the court, I am prepared for it. Its members will surely discharge their duty — I shall take care not to be wanting in mine."
The court having asked if he wished to make any further observa- tion—
Tone said — "I wish to offer a few words relative to one single point — the mode of punishment. In France our emigrees, who stand nearly in the same situation in which I now stand before you, are con- demned to be shot. I ask that the court adjudge me the death of a soldier, and let me be shot by a platoon of grenadiers. I request this indulgence rather in consideration of the uniform I wear — the uni- form of a chef de bridage in the French army — than from any personal regard to himself. In order to evince my claim to this favor, I beg that the court may take the trouble to peruse my commission and letters of service in the French army. It will appear from these papers that I have not received them as a mask to cover me, but that I have been long and bona fide an officer in the French service."
Judge Advocate. — " You must feel that the papers you allude to will serve as undeniable proof against you."
Tone. — " Oh, I know they will. I have already admitted the facts, and I now admit the papers as full proof of conviction."
[The papers were then examined ; they consisted of a brevet of chef de brigade from the Directory, signed by the Minister of War, of a let- ter of service granting to him the rank of Adjutant-General, and of a passport.]
General Loftus. — '* In these papers you are designated as serving in the army of England."
Tone. — "I did serve in that army, when it was commanded by Bonaparte, by Dessaix, and by Kilmaine, who is, as I am, an Irishman ; but I have also served elsewhere."
The Court requested if he had anything further to observe.
Hx- said that nothing more occurred to him, except that the sooner his Excellency's approbation of the sentence was obtained the better.
This is Tone's speech, as reported in the public prints at that time, but the recently-published '' Correspondence" of Lord Cornwallis — Lord-Lieutenant in those days — supplies a portion of the address which was never before published, the Court having forbade the reading of it at the trial. The pas- sage contains a noble outburst of gratitude towards the Catho-
^ 'W '%■
26 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
pleading that, if delay were made, the prisoner might be exe* cuted before the order of the court could be presented. A messenger was at once despatched from the court to the barrack with the writ. He returned to say that the officers in charge of the prisoner would obey only their military superiors. The Chief- Justice issued his commands peremptorily: — ''Mr. Sheriff, take the body of Tone into custody— take the Provost-Marshal and Major Sandys into custody, — and show the order of the court to General Craig." The Sheriff sped away, and soon returned with the news that Tone had wounded himself on the previous evening, and could not be removed. The Chief-Justice then ordered a rule suspending the execution. For the space of seven days afterwards did the unfortunate gentleman endure the agonies of approaching death ; on the 19th of November, 1798, he expired. No more touching reference to his last mo- ments could be given than the following pathetic and noble words, traced by a filial hand, and published in the memoir from which we have already quoted : —
''Stretched on his bloody pallet in a dungeon, the first apostle of Irish union, and most illustrious martyr of Irish independence, counted each lingering hour., during the last seven days and nights of his slow and silent agony. No one was allowed to approach him. Far from his adored family, and from all those friends whom he loved so dearly, the only forms which flitted before his eyes were those of the grim jailor and his rough attend- ants— the only sounds which fell on his dying ear the heavy tread of the sentry. He retained, however, the calmness of his soul, and the possession of his faculties to the last. And the consciousness of dying for his country, and in the cause of justice and liberty, illumined like a bright halo his later moments and kept up his fortitude to the end. There is no situation under which those feelings will not support the soul of a patriot."
Tone was born in Stafford Street, Dublin, on the 20th of June, 1764. His father was a coachmaker, who carried on a thriving business ; his grandfather was a comfortable farmer, who held land near Naas, county Kildare. In February, 1 78 1 , Tone entered
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
V
Trinity College, Dublin; in January, 1787, he entered his name as a law student on the books of the Middle Temple, London, and in 1789 he was called to the bar. His mortal remains repose in Bodenstown churchyard, county Kildare, whither parties of patriotic young men from the metropolis and the surrounding districts often proceed to lay a green wreath on his grave. His spirit lives, and will live forever, in the hearts of his country- men.
WILLIAM ORR.
WELVE months before Wolfe Tone expired in his prison cell, one of the bravest of his associates paid with his life the penalty of his attachment to the cause of Irish independence. In the subject of this sketch, the United Irishmen found their first martyr ; and time has left no darker blot on the administration of English rule than the execution of the high-spirited Irishman who swung from the gallows of Carrickfergus on the 14th of October, 1797. William Orr was the son of a farmer and bleach-green pro- prietor, of Ferranshane, in the county of Antrim. The family were in comfortable circumstances, and young Orr received a good education, which he afterwards turned to account in the service of his country. We know little of his early history, but we find him, on growing up to manhood, an active member of the society of United Irishmen, and remarkable for his popu- larity amongst his countrymen in the north. His appearance, not less than his principles and declarations, was calculated to captivate the peasantry amongst whom he lived ; he stood six feet two inches in height, was a perfect model of symmetry, strength, and gracefulness, and the expression of his countenance was open, frank, and manly. He was always neatly and respect- ably dressed — a prominent feature in his attire being a green necktie, which he wore even in his last confinement.
28 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
One of the first blows aimed by the government against the United Irishmen was the passing of the Act of Parliament (36 George III.), which constituted the administration of their oath a capital felony. This piece of legislation, repugnant in itself to the dictates of reason and justice, was intended as no idle threat ; a victim was looked for to suffer under its provisions, and William Orr, the champion of the northern Presbyterian patriots, was doomed to serve the emergency.
He was arraigned, tried, and convicted at Carrickfergus, on a charge of having administered the United Irishmen's oath to a soldier named Wheatly. The whole history of the operations of the British law courts in Ireland contains nothing more in- famous than the record of that trial. We now know, as a mat- ter of fact, that the man who tendered the oath to Wheatly was William M'Keever, a well-known member of the society, who subsequently made his escape to America. But this was not a case, such as sometimes happens, of circumstantial evidence pointing to a wrong conclusion. The only evidence against Oi-r was the unsupported testimony of the soldier Wheatly ; and after hearing Curran's defence of the prisoner, there could be no possible doubt of his innocence. But Orr was a doomed man — the government had decreed his death beforehand ; and in this case, as in every other, the bloodthirsty agents of the crown did not look in vain for Irishmen to co-operate with them in their infamy.
At six o'clock in the evening the jury retired to consider their verdict. The scene that followed in the jury-room is described in the sworn affidavits of some of its participators. The jury were supplied with supper by the crown officials ; a liberal sup. ply of intoxicating beverages, wines, brandy, etc., being include ded in the refreshments. In their sober state, several of the jurymen — amongst them Alexander Thompson, of Cushendall, the foreman — had refused to agree to a verdict of guilty. It was otherwise, however, when the decanters had been emptied^ and when threats of violence were added to the bewildering effects of the potations in which they indulged. Thompson
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
29
was threatened by his more unscrupulous companions with being wrecked, beaten, and " not left with sixpence in the world," and similar means were used against the few who refused with him to return a verdict of guilty. At six in the morning, the jury, not a man of whom by this time was sober, returned into court with a verdict of guilty, recommending the prisoner at the same time in the strongest manner to mercy. Next Orr was placed at the bar, and sentenced to death by Lord Yelverton, who, it is recorded, at the conclusion of his address burst into tears. A motion was made by Curran in arrest of judgment, chiefly on the grounds of the drunkenness of the jury but the judges refused to entertain the objection. The following is the speech delivered by William Orr, after the verdict of the jury had been announced: —
" My friends and fellow-countrymen, — In the thirty-first year of my life, I have been sentenced to die upon the gallows, and this sen- tence has been in pursuance of a verdict of twelve men, who should have been indifferently and impartially chosen. How far they have been so, I leave to that country from which they have been chosen to determine; and how far they have discharged their duty, I leave to their God, and to themselves. They have, in pronouncing their verdict, thought proper to recommend me as an object of humane mercy. In return, I pray to God, if they have erred, to have mercy upon them. The judge who condemned me humanely shed tears in uttering my sentence. But whether he did wisely in so highly com- mending the wretched informer, who swore away my life, I leave to his own cool reflection, solemnly assuring him and all the world, with my dying breath, that that informer was forsworn.
" The law under which I suffer is surely a severe one — may the makers and promoters of it be justified in the integrity of their mo- tives, and the purity of their own lives! By that law I am stamped a felon, but my heart disdains the imputation.
" My comfortable lot, and industrious course of life, best refute the charge of being- an adventurer for plunder; but if to have loved my country — to have known its wrongs — to have felt the injuries of the persecuted Catholics, and to have united with them and all other religious persuasions in the most orderly and sanguinary means of procuring redress — if those be felonies, I am a felon, but not otherwise. Had my counsel (for whose honorable exertions I am indebted) prevailed in their motions to have me tried for high treason, rather than under the insurrection law, I should have
30
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
been entitled to a full defence, and my actions have been better vindicated ; but that was refused, and ^ must now submit to what has passed.
" To the generous protection of my country I leave a beloved wife, who has been constant and true to me, and whose grief for my fate has already nearly occasioned her death. I have five living chil- dren, who have been my delight. May they love their country as I have done, and die for it if needful.
" Lastly, a false and ungenerous publication having appeared in a newspaper, stating certain alleged confessions of guilt on my part, and thus striking at my reputation, which is dearer to me than life, I take this solemn method of contradicting the calumny. I was applied to by the high-sheriff, and the Rev. William Bristow, sovereign of Bel- fast, to make a confession of guilt, who used entreaties to that effect ; this I peremptorily refused. If I thought myself guilty, I v/ould freely confess it, but, on the contrary, I glory in my innocence.
" I trust that all my virtuous countrymen will bear me in their kind remembrance, and continue true and faithful to each other, as I have been to all of them. With this last wish of my heart — nothing doubt- ing of the success of that cause for which I suffer, and hoping for God's merciful forgiveness of such offences as my frail nature may have at any time betrayed me into — I die in peace and charity with all mankind."
Hardly had sentence of death been pa.ssed on William Orr, when compunction seemed to seize on those who had aided in securing that result. The witness Wheatly, who subsequently became insane, and is believed to have died by his own hand, made an afifidavit before a magistrate acknowledging that he had sworn falsely against Orr. Two of the jury made deposi- tions, setting forth that they had been induced to join in the verdict of guilty while under the influence of drink; two others swore that they had been terrified into the same course by threats of violence.
These depositions were laid before the Viceroy, but Lord Camden, the then Lord-Lieutenant, was deaf to all appeals. Well might Orr exclaim within his dungeon that the govern- ment " had laid down a system having for its object murder and devastation." The prey was in the toils of the hunters, on whom all appeals of justice and humanity were wasted.
Orr was hung, as we have said, in the town of Carrickfergus,
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
31
on the 14th of October, 1797. It is related that the inhabitants of the town, to express their sympathy with the patriot about being murdered by law, and to mark their abhorence of the conduct of the government towards him, quitted the town en masse on the day of his execution.
His fate excited the deepest indignation throughout the country ; it was commented on in words of fire by the national writers of that period, and through many an after year the watchword and rallying cry of the United Irishmen was —
"REMEMBER ORR."
HENRY AND JOHN SHEARES.
MONG the many distinguished Irishmen wlio acted prominent parts in the stormy events of 1798, and whose names come down to us hallowed by the suf- ferings and sacrifices inseparable in those dark days from the lot of an Irish patriot, there are few whose fate excited more sympathy, more loved in life, more Honored in death, than the brothers John and Henry Sheares. Even in the days of Emmet and Wolfe Tone, of Russell and Fitzgerald, when men of education, talent, and social standing were not few in the national ranks, the Sheareses were hailed as valuable accessions to the cause, and were recognized by the United Irishmen as heaven-destined leaders for the people. It is a touching story, the history of their patrotic exertions, their betrayal, trial, and executiofi ; but it is by studying such scenes in our history that Irishmen can learn to estimate the sacrifices which were made in bygone days for Ireland, and attach a proper value to the mem^ory of the patriots who made them.
Henry and John Sheares were sons of John Sheares, a banker in Cork, who sat in the Irish ParHament for the borough of
32
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCIC.
Clonakilty. The father appears to have been a kindly-disposed, liberal-minded man, and numerous stories are told of his unos- tentatious charity and benevolence. Henry, the elder of the two sons, was born in 1753, and was educated in Trinity College, Dublin. After leaving college he purchased a commission in the 51st Regiment of foot, but the duties of a military officer were ill suited to his temperament and disposition, and the young soldier soon resigned his commission, to pursue the more congenial occupation of law student. He was called to the bar in 1790; his brother John, his junior by three years, who had adopted the same profession, obtained the rank of barrister-at- law two years previously. The brothers differed from each other widely in character and disposition. Henry was gentle in manners, modest and unassuming, but firmly attached to his principles, and unswerving in his fidelity to the cause which he adopted; John was bold, impetuous, and energetic, ready to plan and to dare, fertile of resources, quick of resolve, and prompt of execution. To John the elder brother looked for guidance and example, and his gentle nature was ever ruled by the more fiery and impulsive spirit of his younger brother. On the death of his father, Henry Sheares came in for property to the value of ;£'i,20o per annum, which his rather improvident habits soon diminished by one-half. Both brothers, however, ob- tained large practice at their profession, and continued in afiflu- tnt circumstances up to the day of their arrest.
In 1792 the two brothers visited Paris, and this excursion seems to have formed the turning point of their lives and for- tunes. The French Revolution was in full swing, and in the society of Roland, Brissot, and other Republican leaders, the young Irishmen imbibed the love of freedom, and impa- tience of tyranny and oppression, which they clung to so faith- fully, and which distinguished them so remarkably during the remainder of their lives. On returning to Ireland, in January, 1793, the brothers joined the ranks of the United Irishmen. John at once became a promineit member of the society, and his signature appears to several of the spirited and eloquent
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
33
addresses by which the Dublin branches sought from time to time to arouse the ardor and stimulate the exertions of their compatriots. The society of United Irishmen looked for nothing more at this period than a thorough measure of parliamen- tary reform, household suffrage being the leading feature in their programme ; but when the tyranny of the government drove the leaguers into more violent and dangerous courses, when republican government and separation from England were inscribed on the banners of the society instead of electoral reform, and when the selfish and wavering had shrunk aside, the Sheareses still remained true to the United Irishmen, and seemed to grow more zealous and energetic in the cause of their country according as the mists of perplexity and danger gathered around it.
To follow out the history of the Sheareses* connection with the United Irishmen, would be foreign to our intention and to the scope of this work. The limits of our space oblige us to pass over the ground at a rapid pace, and we shall dismiss the period of the Sheareses' lives comprised in the years be- tween 1793 and 1798, by saying that during that period, while practising their profession with success, they devoted them- selves with all the earnestness of their nature to the further- ance of the objects of the United Irishmen. In March, 1798; the affairs of fhe organization became critical ; the arrest of the Directory, at Oliver Bond's, deprived the party of its best ani most trusted leaders, besides placing in the hands of the gov- ernment a mass of information relative to the plans and resources of the conspirators. To fill the gap thus caused, John Sheares was soon appointed a member of the Directory, and he threw himself into the work with all the ardor and energy of his nature. The fortunes of the society had assumed a desper- ate phase when John Sheares became its ruling spirit. Tone was in France, O'Connor was in England, Russell, Emmet, and Fitzgerald were in prison. But Sheares was not disheartened ; he directed all his efforts towards bringing about the insurrec- tion for which his countrymen had so long been preparing, and
34 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
the 23d of May, 1798, was fixed on by him for the outbreak. He was after visiting Wexford and Kildare, and making arrange- ments in those counties for the rising, and was on the verge of starting for Cork, on a similar mission, when the hand of treachery cut short his career, and the gates of Kilmainham prison opened to receive him.
Amongst all the human monsters who filled the ranks of the government informers in that dark and troubled period, not one appears to merit a deeper measure of infamy than Captain Warnesford Armstrong, the entrapper and betrayer of the Sheareses. Having obtained an introduction to John, he represented himself as a zealous and hard-working member of the organization, and soon wormed himself completely into the confidence of his victims. He paid daily visits to the house of the Sheareses in Baggot Street, chatted with their families, and fondled the children of Henry Sheares upon his knee. We have it on his own testimony, that each interview with the men whose confidence he was sharing was followed by a visit to the Castle. We need not go through the sickening details of this vile story of treachery and fraud. On the 21st of May the Sheareses were arrested and lodged in prison, and on the 12th of the following month, Armstrong appeared against them in the witness-box. The trial was continued through the night — Toler, of infamous memory, who had been created Attorney-General expressly for the occasion, refusing Curran's request for an adjournment ; and it was eight o'clock in the morning of the 13th when the jury, who had been but seventeen minutes absent, returned into court with a verdict of guilty against both prisoners.
After a few hours' adjournment the court re-assembled to pass sentence. It was then that John Sheares, speaking in a firm tone, addressed the court as follows : —
* My Lords, — I wish to offer a few words before sentence is pro. nounced, because there is a weight pressing on my heart much greater than that of the sentence which is to come from the court. There has been, my lords, a weight pressing on my mind from the first mo-
SP^.ECHES FROM THE DOClC,
35
ment I heard the \'^<iictment read upon which I was tried ; but that weight has been more peculiarly pressing upon my heart when I found the accusation in the indictment enforced and supported upon the trial. That weight would be left insupportable if it were not for this oppor- tunity of discharging it; I shall feel it to be insupportable since a ver- dict of my country has stamped that evidence as well founded. Do not think, my lords, that I am about to make a declaration against the verdict of the jury, or the persons concerned with the trial ; I am only about to call to your recollection a part of the charge at which my soul shudders, and if I had an opportunity of renouncing it before your lordships and this auditory, no courage would be sufficient to support me. The accusation of which I speak, while 1 linger here yet a minute, is that of holding out to the people of Ireland a direction to give no quarter to the troops fighting for its defence. My lords, let me say thus, that if there be any acquaintances in this crowded court — I do not say my intimate friends, but acquaintances — who do not know what I say is truth, I shall be reputed the wretch which I am not ; I say, if any acquaintance of mine can believe that / could utter a recommendation of giving no quarter to a yielding and unof- fending foe, it is not the death which I am about to suffer that I de* serve — no punishment could be adequate to such a crime. My lords, I can not only acquit my soul of such an intention, but I declare, in the presence of that God before whom I must shortly appear, that the favorite doctrine of rny heart was that no huvia7i being should suffer deaths but when absolute necessity required it. My lords, I feel a conso- lation in making this declaration, which nothmg else could afford me, because it is not only a justification of myself, but where I am sealing my life with that breath which cannot be suspected of falsehood, what I say may make some impression upon the minds of men not holding the same doctrine. I declare to God, I know of no crime but assassina- tion which can echpse or equal that of which 1 am accused. I discern no shade of guilt between that and taking away the life of a foe, by putting a bayonet to his heart when he is yielding and surrendering. I do request the bench to believe that of me — I do request my country to beheve that of me — I am sure God will think that of me. Now, my lords, I have no favor to ask of the court ; my country has decided I am guilty, and the law says I shall suffer— it sees that I am ready to suffer. But, my lords, I have a favor to request of the court that does not relate to myself. My lords, I have a brother whom I have even loved dearer than myself, but it is not from any affection for him alone that I am induced to make the request. He is a man, and therefore I would hope prepared to die, if he stood as I do — though I do not stand unconnected ; but he stands more dearly connected. In short, my lords, to spare your feelings, and I my own, I do not pray that / should not die, but that the husband, the father, the son — all comprised in one person — holding those relations dearer in life to him than any
36
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
other man I know — for such a man I do not pray a pnrdon, for that is not in the power of the court, but I pray a respite for such time as the court in its humanity and discretion shall think proper. You have heard, my lords, that his private affairs require arrangement. When I address myself to your lordships, it is with the knowledge you will have of all the sons of our aged mother being gone. Two have per- ished in the service of the king — one very recently. I only recjuire that, disposing of me with what swiftness either the public minds or justice requires, a respite may be given to my brother, that the family may acquire strength to bear it all. That is all I wish ; I shall re- member it to my last breath, and I shall offer up my prayers for you to that Being who has endued us all with the sensibility to feel. That is all I ask. I have nothing more to say."
It was four o'clock, p.m., when the judge proceeded to pass sentence, and the following morning was appointed for the double execution. At midday on Saturday, July 14th, the hapless men were removed to the room adjoining the place of execution, where they exchanged a last embrace. They were then pinioned, the black caps put over their brows, and holding each other by the hand, they tottered out on the platform. The elder brother was somewhat moved by the terrors of his situation, but the younger bore his fate with unflinching firm ness. They were launched together into eternity — the same moment saw them dangling lifeless corpses before the prison walls. They had lived in affectionate unity, inspired by the same motives, laboring for the same cause, and death did not' dissolve the tie. '' They died hand in hand, like true brothers."
When the hangman's hideous office was completed, the bodies were taken down, and the executioner, in accord- ance with the barbarous custom of the time, proceeded to sever the heads from the bodies. It is said, however, that only on the body of Henry Sheares was that horrible act performed While the arrangements for the execution were in progress. Sir Jonah Barrington had been making intercession with Lord Clare on their behalf, and beseeching at least a respite. His lordship declared that the life of John Sheares could not be spared, but said that Henry might possibly have something to say which would induce the government to commute his sen*
ROBERT EMMET.
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
37
tence ; he furnished Sir Jonah with an order to delay the exe- cution one hour, and told him to communicate with Henry Sheares on the subject. '' I hastened," writes Sir Jonah, " to Newgate, and arrived at the very moment that the executioner was holding up the head of my old college friend, and saying, * Here is the head of a traitor.' " The fact of this order having been issued by the government, may have so far interrupted the bloody work on the scaffold as to save the remains of the younger Sheares from mutilation. The bodies of the patriots were interred on the night of the execution in the vaults of St. Michan's church, where, enclosed in oaken coffins, marked in the usual manner with the names and ages of the deceased, they still repose. Many a pious visit has since been paid to those dim chambers — many a heart, filled with love and pity, has throbbed above those coffin lids — many a tear has dropped upon them. But it is not a feeling of grief alone that is in. spired by the memory of those martyrs to freedom; hope, courage, constancy, are the lessons taught by their lives, and the patriotic spirit that ruled their career is still awake and active in Ireland.
ROBERT EMMET.
,N all Irish history there is no name which touches the Irish heart like that of Robert Emmet. We read, in that eventful record, of men who laid down their lives for Ireland amid the roar and crash of battle, of others who perished by the headsman's axe or the halter of the hangman, of others whose eyes were closed forever in the gloom of English dungeons, and of many whose hearts broke amid the sorrows of involuntary exile ; of men, too, who in the great warfare of mind rendered to the Irish cause services no less memorable and glorious. They are neither forgotten nor unhonored. The warrior figure of Hugh O'Neil is a fami-
jg SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
liar vision to Irishmen ; Sarsfield expiring on the foreign battle- field with that infinitely pathetic and noble utterance on his lips — • "Would that this were for Ireland," — is a cherished remem- brance, and that last cry of a patriotic spirit dwells forever about our hearts ; Grattan battling against a corrupt and venal faction, first to win, and then to defend the independence of his country, astonishing friends and foes alike by the dazzling splendor of his eloquence ; and O'Connell on the hill-sides pleading for the restoration of Ireland's rights, and rousing his countrymen to a struggle for them, are pictures of which we are proud — memories that will live in song and story while the Irish race has a distinct existence in the world But in the character of Robert Emmet there was such a rare combination of admir- able qualities, and in his history there are so many of the ele- ments of romance, that the man stands before our mental vision, as a peculiarly noble and loveable being, with claims upon our sympathies that are absolutely without a parallel. He had youth, talent, social position, a fair share of fortune, and bright prospects for the future on his side, when he em- barked in the service of a cause that had but recently been sunk in defeat and ruin. Courage, genius, enthusiasm, were his; high hopes and strong affections, all based upon and sweetened by a nature utterly free from guile. He was an orator and a poet; in the one art he had already achieved distinction, in the other he was certain to take a high place, if he should make that an object of his ambition. He was a true patriot, true soldier, and true lover. If the story of his political life is full of melan- choly interest, and calculated to awaken profound emotions of reverence for his memory, the story of his affection is not less touching. Truly, " there's not a line but hath been wept upon." So it is, that of all the heroic men who risked and lost every- thing for Ireland, none is so frequently remembered, none is thought of so tenderly, as Robert Emmet Poetry has cast a halo of light upon the name of the youthful martyr, and some of the sweetest strains of Irish music are consecrated to his memory.
speeche:^ from the dock.
39
Robert Emmet was born on the 4th of March 1778 He was the third son of Doctot Robert Emmet, a well-known and highly respectable physician of Dublin. Thomas Addis Emmet, already mentioned in these pages, the associate of Tone, the Sheareses, and other members of the United Irish organization, was an elder brother of Robert, and his senior by some sixteen years. Just about the period when the United Irishmen were forming themselves into a secret revolutionary society, young Emmet was sent to receive his education in Trinity College. There the bent of the lad's political opinions was soon detected ; but among his fellow-students he found many, and amongst them older heads than his own, who not only shared his views, but went beyond them in the direction of liberal and democratic principles. In the Historical Society — composed of the ahimm of the college, and on whose books at this time were many names that subsequently became famous — those kindred spirits made for themselves many opportunities of giving expression to their sentiments, and showing that their hearts beat in unison with the great movement for human freedom which was then agi- tating the world. To their debates Emmet brought the aid oi a fine intellect and a fluent utterance, and he soon became the orator of the patriot party.
So great was the effect created by his fervid eloquence, and his admirable reasoning, that the heads of the college thought it prudent on several occasions to send one of the ablest of their body to take part in the proceedings, and assist in refut- ing the argumentation of the " young Jacobin." And to such extremities did matters proceed at last that Emmet, wi^h sev eral of his political friends, was expelled the college, others less obnoxious to the authorities were subjected to a severe re- primand, and the society, thus terrorised and weakened, soon ceased to exist. Our nationel poet, Thomas Moore, the fel- low-student and intimate friend of young Emmet, witnessed many of those displays of his abilities, and in his " Life and Death of Lord Edward Fitzgerald," speaks of him in terms of the highest admiration. *' Were I," he says, " to number the
^O SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
men among all I have ever known who appeared to me to com. bine in the greatest degree pure moral worth with intellectual power, I should, among the highest ot the few, place Robert Emmet." '' He was," writes the same authority, ''wholly free from the follies and frailties of youth — though how capable he was of the most devoted passion events afterwards proved." Of his oratory, he says, '' I have heard little since that appeared to me of a loftier, or what is a far more rare quality in Irish eloquence, purer character." And the appearance of this greatly gifted youth he thus describes : '' Simple in all his habits, and with a repose of look and manner indicating but little move- ment within, it was only when the spring was touched th'at set his feelings, and through them his intellect in motion, that he at all lose above the level of ordinary men. No two individ- uals indeed could be mach more unlike to each other than was the same youth to himself before rising to speak, and after ; the brow that had appeared inanimate and almost drooping, at once elevating itself to all the consciousness of power, and the whole countenance and figure of the speaker assuming a change, as of one suddenly inspired."
The expulsion of Emmet from the college occurred in the month of February, 1798. On the 12th of the following month his brother, Thomas Addis Emmet, was arrested. The man- ner in which this noble-hearted gentleman took the oath of the United Irish Society, in the year 1795, is so remarkable that we cannot omit mention of it here His services as a laywer having been engaged in the defence of some persons who stood charged with having sworn in members to the United Irish organization — the crime for which William Orr was subse- quently tried and executed — he, in the course of the proceed- ings, took up the oath and lead it with remarkable deliberation and solemnity. Then, taking into his hand the prayer-book that lay on the table for the swearing of witnesses, and looking to the bench and around the court, he said aloud: —
" My Lords — Here, in the presence of this legal court, this crowded auditory — in the presence of the Being that sees and
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
41
witnesses, and directs this judicial tribunal — here, my lords, I, myself, in the presence of God, declare I take this oath."
The terms of the oath at this time were, in fact, perfectly constitutional, having reference simply to attainment of a due representation of the Irish nation in parliament — still, the oath was that of a society declared to be illegal, and the administra- tion of it had been made a capital oftence. The boldness of the advocate in thus admmstering it to himself in open court appeared to paralyze the minds of the judges. They took no notice of the act, and what was even more remarkable, the prisoners, who were convicted, received a lenient sentence.
But to return to Robert Emmet — the events of 1798, as might be supposed, had a powerful effect on the feelings of the enthusiastic young patriot, and he was not free of active parti- cipation with the leaders of the movement in Dublin. He was, of course, an object of suspicion to the government, and it appears marvellous that they did not immediately take him into their safe keeping, under the provisions of the habeas corpus suspension act. Ere long, however, he found that pru- dence would counsel his concealment, or his disappearance from the co mtry, and he took his departure for the Continent, where he met with a whole host of the Irish refugees; and, in 1802, was joined by his brother and others of the political prisoners who had been released from the confinement to which — in violation of a distinct agreement between them and the government — they had been subjected in Fort George, in Scotland. Their sufferings had not broken their spirits. There was hope still, they thought, for Ireland; great opportunities were about to dawn upon that often defeated, but still uncon- querable nation, and they applied themselves to the task ot preparing the Irish people to take advantage of them.
At home the condition of affairs was not such as to dis. courage them. The people had not lost heart ; the fighting spirit was still rife amongst them. The rebellion had been trampled out, but it had been sustained mainly by a county or two, and it had served to show that a general uprising of
42
SPEECHES EROM THE DOCK.
the people would be sufficient to sweep every vestige of British power from the land. Then they had in their favor the cxas. peration against the government which was caused by that most infamous transaction, the passage of the Act o<" Union. But they found their chief encouragement in the imminence of another war between France and England. Once more the United Irishmen put themselves into communication with Bonaparte, then First Consul, and again they received flatter- ing promises of assistance Robert Emmet obtained an inter- view with that great man, and learned from him that it was his settled purpose, on the breaking out of hostilities, which could not long be deferred, to effect an invasion of England. Full of high hopes, Emmet returned to Dublin in October, 1802 ; and as he was now in the very heart of a movement for another insurrection, he took every precaution to avoid dis- covery He passed under feigned names, and moved about as little as possible. He gathered together the remnants of the United Irish organization, and with some money of his own, added to considerable sums supplied to him by a Mr. Long, a merchant, residing at No. 4 Crow Street, and other sympa- thizers, he commenced the collection of an armament and mili- tary stores for his followers. In the month of May, 1803, the expected war between France and England broke out. This event of course raised still higher his hopes, and gave a great stimulus to his exertions. To and fro he went from one to another of the depots which he had established for the manu- facture and storage of arms in various parts of the city, cheer- ing, directing and assisting his men at their work. Pikes were got ready by the thousand, and ingeniously stowed away until they should be wanted ; rockets, hand-grenades, and other deadly mis- siles were carefully prepared ; but an accidental explosion, which occurred on the i6th of July, in one of these manufactories, situate in Patrick Street, was very near leading to the discovery of the entire business, and had the effect of precipitating the outbreak. The government at this time had undoubtedly got 9n the scent of the movement, and the leaders considered
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
43
that no time was to be lost in bringing matters to a crisis. Emmet now took up his abode in che Marshalsea Lane depot, snatching his few hours' sleep "on a mattress, surrounded by all the implements of death." There he made a final arrange- ment of his plans, and communicated his instructions to his subordinates, fixing the 23rd of July as the date for the rising.
The history of that unfortunate attempt need not here be written- Suffice it to say that the arrangements miscarried in nearly every particular. The men in the numbers calculated upon did not assemble at the appointed time or in the appointed places, and the whole force that turned out m Thomas Street for the attack on the Castle did not number a hundred m«ur- gents. They were joined by a riotous and noisy rabble ; and their unfortunate leader soon perceived that his following was, as had previously been said of the king's troops, " for- midable to every one but the enemy." They had not proceeded far on their way when a carriage, >n which were Lord Kilwar- den, Chief-Justice of the King's Bench, hib daughter, and his nephew, the Rev. Mr. Wolfe, drove into the street. The vehi- cle was stopped, and the Chief-Justice was immediately piked by a man in the crowd, whose son he had some time previously condemned to execution. The clergyman also was pulled out of the carriage, and put to death. To the lady no violence was offered, and Emmet himself, who had heard of the deplorable tragedy, rushing from the head of his party, bore her in his arms to an adjoining house. No attack on the Castle took place; the insurgent party scattered and melted away even be. fore the appearance of military on the scene, and In little more than an hour from the time of his setting out on his desperate enterprise, Robert Emmet was a defeated and ruined man, a fugitive, with the whole host of British spies and bloodhounds employed to hum him to the death.
Yet he might have foiled them, and got clear out of the country, if his personal safety was all on earth he cared for. But in that noble heart of his there Was one passion coexistent with his love foi Ireland and not unworthy of the companion
-4 Sf'EECHES FROM THE DOCK.
ship, which forbade his immediate flight. With all that inten. sity of affection of which a nature so pure and so ardent as his was capable, he loved a being in every way worthy of him — a lady so gentle, and good, and fair, that even to a less poetic imagination than his own, she might seem to be a fitting per- sonification of his beloved Erin ; and by her he was loved and trusted in return. Who is it that has not heard her name? — who has not mourned over the story of Sarah Curran ! In the ruin that had fallen on the hopes and fortunes of the patriotic chief, the happiness of this amiable lady was involved. He would not leave without an interview with her — no! though a thousand deaths should be the penalty. The delay was fatal to his chances of escape. For more than a month he remained in concealment, protected by the fidelity of friends, many of whom belonged to the humbler walks of life, and one of whom in particular — the heroic Anne Devlin, from whom neither proffered bribes nor cruel tortures could extort a single hint as to his place of abode — should ever be held in grateful remem- brance by Irishmen. At length, on the 25th of August, the ill-fated young gentleman was arrested in the house of a Mrs. Palmer, at Harold's-cross. On the 19th of September he was put on his trial in the court-house, Green Street, charged with high treason. He entered on no defence, beyond making a few remarks in the course of the proceedings with a view to the moral and political justification of his conduct. The jury, with- out leaving their box, returned a verdict of guilty against him ; after which, having been asked in due form why sentence of death should not be pronounced upon him, he delivered this memorable speech, every line of which is known and dear to the hearts of the Irish race : —
" My Lords, — I am asked what have I to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me, according to law. I have nothing to say that can alter your predetermination, nor that it will be- come me to say, with any view to the mitigation of that sentence which you are to pronounce, and I must abide by. But I have that to say which interests me more than life, and which you have labored to destroy. I have much to say why ray reputation should be rescued
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK
45
from the load of false accusation and calumny which has 1 een cast upon it. I do not imagine that, seated where you are, your mind can be so free from prejudice as to receive the least impression from what 1 am go- ing to utter. I have no hopes that I can anchor my character in the breast of a court constituted and trammelled as this is. I only wish, and that is the utmost that I expect, that your lordships may suffer it to float down your memories untainted by the foul breath of prejudice, until it finds some more hospitable harbor to shelter it from tlie storms by which it is buffeted. Was I only to suffer death after being adjudged guilty by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and meet the fate that awaits me without a murmur ; but the sentence of the law which delivers my body to the excutioner will, through the min- istry of the law, labor in its own vindication, to consign my character to obloquy; for there must be guilt somewhere, whether in the sentence of the court, or in the catastrophe, time must determine. A man in my situation has not only to encounter the difficulties ot fortune, and the force of power over minds which it has corrupted or subjugated, but the difficulties of established prejudice. The man dies, but his memory lives. That mine may not perish, that it may live in the re- spect of my countrymen, I seize upon this opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the charges alleged against me. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port — when my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred heroes who have shed their blood on the scaffold and in the field in the defence of their country, and of virtue, this my hope — I wish that my memory and name may animate those who survive me, while I look down with complacency on the de- struction of that perfidious goverment which upholds its domination by blasphemy of the Most High — which displays its power over man, as over the beasts of the forest — which sets man upon his brother, and lifts his hand in the name of God, against the throat of his fellow who believes or doubts a little more or a little less than the government standard — a government which is steeled to barbarity by the cries of the orphans, and the tears of the widows it has made."
[Here Lord Norbury interrupted Mr. Emmet, saying — ''That the mean and wicked enthusiasts who felt as he did, were not equal to the accomplishment of their wild designs."]
"I appeal to the immaculate God — I swear by the throne of Heaven, before which I must shortly appear — by the blood of the murdered patriots who have gone before me — that my conduct has been, through all this peril, and through all my purposes, governed only by the conviction which I have uttered, and by no other view than that of the emancipation of my country from the superinhuman oppression under which she has so long and too patiently travailed; and I confidently hope that, wild and chimerical as it may appear, there is still union and strength in Ireland to accomplish this noblest of enterprises. Of this I speak with the confidence of intimate knowl-
^6 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
edge, and with the consolatiorx that appertains to that confidence. Think not, my lords, I say this for the petty gratification of giving you a transitory uneasiness. A man who never yet raised his voice to assert a lie, will not hazard his character with posterity, by asserting a falsehood on a subject so important to his country, and on an oc- casion like this. Yes, my lords, a man who does not wish to have his epitaph written until his country is liberated, will not leave a weapon in the power of envy, or a pretence to impeach the probity which he means to preserve, even in the grave to which tyranny con- signs him."
[Here he was again interrupted by the court.]
" Again I say, that what I have spoken was not intended for your lordship, whose situation I commisserate rather than envy — my ex- pressions were for my countrymen. If there is a true Irishman pres- ent, let my last words cheer him in the hour of his afiliction."
[Here he was again interrupted. Lord Norbury said he did not sit there to hear treason.]
" I have always understood it to be the duty of a judge, when a pris- oner has been convicted, to pronounce the sentence of the law. I have also understood that judges sometimes think it their duty to hear with patience, and to speak with humanity ; to exhort the victim of the laws, and to offer, with tender benignity, their opinions of the motives by which he was actuated in the crime of which he was adjudged guilty. That a judge has thought it his duty so to have done, I have no doubt ; but where is the boasted freedom of your institutions — where is the vaunted impartiality, clemency, and mildness of your courts of justice, if an unfortunate prisoner, whom your policy, and not justice, is about to deliver into the hands of the executioner, is not suffered to explain his motives sincerely and truly, and to vindicate the principles by which he was actuated? My lords, it may be a part of the system of angry justice to bow a man's mind by humiliation to the purposed ignominy of the scaffold ; but worse to me than the pur- posed shame of the scaffold's terrors, would be the shame of such foul and unfounded imputations as have been laid against me in this court. You, my lord, are a judge ; I am the supposed culprit. I am a man ; you are a man, also. By a revolution of power we might change places, though we never could change characters. If I stand at the bar of this court, and dare not vindicate my character, what a farce is your justice! If I stand at this bar, and dare not vindicate my character how dare you calumniate it. Does the sentence of death, which your unhallowed policy infiicts on my body, condemn my tongue to silence, and my reputation to reproach ? Your executioner may abridge the period of my existence ; but while I exist, I shall not forbear to vindi- cate my character and motives from your aspersions ; and as a man, to whom fame is dearer than life, I will make the last use of that life in doing justice to that reputation which is to live after me, and which
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 4^
is the only legacy I can leave to those I honor and love, and for whom I am proud to perish. As men, my lords, we must appear on the great day at one common tribunal ; and it will then remain for the Searcher of all hearts to show a collective universe, who was engaged in the mosi virtuous actions, or swayed by the purest motives — my country's oppressors or" —
[Here he was interrupted, and told to listen to the sentence of the law].
" My lords, will a dying man be denied the legal privilege of excul- pating himself in the eyes of the community from an undeserved re- proach, thrown upon him during his trial, by charging him with am- bition, and attempting to cast away for a paltry consideration the lib- erties of his country ? Why did your lordships insult me ? Or, rather, why insult justice, in demanding of me why sentence of death should not be pronounced against me ^ I know, my lords, that form prescribes that you should ask the question. The form also presents the right of answering. This, no doubt, may be dispensed with, and so might the whole^ceremony of the trial, since sentence was already pronounced at A -the Castle before the jury v/as empanelled. Your lordships are but JVi'he priests of the oracle, and I insist on the whole of the forms." i . y[Here Mr. Emmet paused, and the court desired him to proceed.] 1 \r "I am charged with being an emissary of France. An emissary of France! and for what end? It is alleged thct I wished to sell the in- dependence of my country ; and for what end? Was this the object of my ambition? And is this the mode by which a tribunal of justice recon- ciles contradiction? No ; I am no emissary; and my ambition was to hold a place among the deliverers of my country, not in power, nor in profit, but in the glory of the achievement. Sell my country's inde- pendence to France! and for what? Was it a change of masters? No, but for my ambition. Oh, my country, was it personal ambition that could influence me? Had it been the soul of my actions, could I not, by my education and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed myself amongst the proudest of your oppres- sors. My country was my Idol. To it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment ; and for it I now offer up myself, O God ! No, my lords ; I acted as an Irishman, determined on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign and unrelenting tyranny^-and the more galling yoke of a domestic faction, which is its joint partner and perpetrator in the patricide, from the ignominy existing with an exte- rior of splendor and a conscious depravity. It was the wish of my heart to extricate my country from this doubly-riveted despotism — I wished to place her independence beyond the reach of any power on earth I wished to exalt her to that proud station in the world. Con- nection with France was, indeed, intended, but only as far as mutual interest would sanction or require. Were the French to assume any authority inconsistent with the purest independence, it would be sig
48 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
t
nal for their destruction., ^Ve sought their aid — and we sought it as wt had assurance we should obtain it — as auxiliaries in war, allies in peace. Were the French to come as invaders or enemies, uninvited by the wishes of the people, I should oppose them to the utmost of my strength. Yes ! my countrymen, I should advise you to meet them upon the beach with a sword in one hand, and a torch in the other. I would meet them with all the destructive fury of war. I would animate my countrymen to immolate them in their boats, before they had contaminated the soil of my country. If they succeeded in landing, and if forced to retire before superior discipline, I would dis- pute every inch of ground, burn every blade of grass, and the last en- trenchment of liberty should be my grave. What I could not do my- self, if I should fall, I should leave as a last charge to my countrymen ( to accomplish ; because I should feel conscious that life, any more ) than death, is unprofitable when a foreign nation holds my country in ^ subjection. But it was not as an enemy that the succors of France were to land. I looked, indeed, for the assistance of France ; but I wished to prove to France and to the world that Irishmen deserved to be assisted — that they were indignant at slavery, and ready to assert the independence and liberty of their country ; I wished to procure for my country the guarantee which Washington procured for America — to procure an aid which, by its example, would be as important as its valor ; disciplined, gallant, pregnant with science and experience ; that of a people who would perceive the good, and polish the rough points of our character. They would come to us as strangers, and leave Uo as friends, after sharing in our perils, and elevating our destiny. These were my objects ; not to receive new taskmasters, but to expel old tyrants. It was for these ends I sought aid from France; because France, even as an enemy, could not be more implacable than the enemy already in the bosom of my country^"
[Here he was interrupted by the court.]
*'I have been charged with that importance in the emancipation of my country, as to be considered the key-stone of the combination of Irishmen ; or, as your lordship expressed it, " the life and blood of /the conspiracy." You dome honor over much ; you have given to the subaltern all the credit of a superior. There are men engaged in this conspiracy who are not only superior to me, but even to your own con- ceptions of yourself, my lord — men before the splendor of whose genius and virtues I should bow with respectful deference, and who would think themselves disgraced by shaking your blood-stained hand.*'
[Here he was interrupted.]'
*'What, my lord, shall you tell me, on the passage to the scaffold, which that tyranny (of which you are only the intermediary execu- tioner} has erected for my murder, that I am accountable for all the blood that has and will be shed m this struggle of the oppressed against the oppressor — shall you tell me this, and must I be so very
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
49
a slave as not to repel it ? I do not fear to approach the Omnipo- tent Judge to answer for the conduct of my whole life ; and am I to be appalled and falsified by a mere remnant of mortality here ?" By you, too, although if it were possible to collect all the innocent blood that you have shed in your unhallowed ministry in one great reservior, your lordship might swim in it."
[Here the judge interfered.]
" Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dishonor ; let no man attaint my memory, by believing that I could have engaged in any cause but that of my country's liberty and independence ; or that I could have become the pliant minion of power, in the oppres- sion and misery of my country. \ The proclamation of the Provisional Government speaks for our views ; no inference can be tortured from it to countenance barbarity or debasement at home, or subjection, humiliation, or treachery from abroad. I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor, for the same reason that I would resist the foreign and domestic oppressor. In the dignity of freedom, I would have fought upon the threshold of my country, and its enemy should enter only by passing over my lifeless corpse. And am I, who lived but for my country, and who have subjected myself to the dangers of the jealous and watchful oppressor, and the bondage of the grave, only to give my countrymen their rights, and my country her independ- ence, am I to be loaded with calumny, and not suffered to resent it ? No ; God forbid !'l-
Here Lord Norbury told Mr. Emmet that his sentiments and lan- guage disgraced his family and his education, but more particularly his father. Dr. Emmet, who was a man, if alive, that would not coun- tenance such opinions. To which Mr. Emmet replied : —
" If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the concerns and cares of those who were dear to them in this transitory life, oh ! ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father, look down with scrutiny upon the conduct of your suffering son, and see if 1 have, even for a moment, deviated from those principles of morality and patriotism which it was your care to instil into my youthful mind, and for which I am now about to offer up my life. My lords, you are im- patient for the sacrifice. The^bjood which you seek is not congealed by the artificial terrors which s\irround your victim — it circulates warmly and unruffled through the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you ajfie now bent to destroy, for purposes so grievous that they cry to heayen. Be yet patient ! I have but a few more words to say — I am going to my cold and silent grave — my lamp )f life is nearly extinguished — my race is run — the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosojn. I have but one request to ask at my departure from this world, it is — the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for as no man who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them.
JO SPEECHES FMOM THE DOCK
Let them and me rest in obscurity and peace ; and my tomb remain uninscribed, and my memory in oblivion, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country takes hei place among the nations of the earth, then and ?wt till the?iy let my epitaph be written. I have done."
This affecting address was spoken — as we learn from the
painstaking and generous biographer of the United Irishmen,
Dr. Madden — *' in so loud a voice as to be distinctly heard at
the outer doors of the court-house ; and yet, though he spoke
in a loud tone, there was nothing boisterous in his manner; his
iccents and cadence of voice, on the contrary, were exquisitely
.nodulated. His action was very remarkable, its greater or
lesser vehemence corresponded with the rise and fall of his
voice. He is described as moving about the dock, as he warmed
in his address, with rapid, but not ungraceful motions — now in
front of the railing before the bench, then retirmg, as if his
body, as well as his mind, were swelling beyond the measure
of its chains. His action was not confined to his hands ; he
seemed to have acquired a swaying motion of the body when
he spoke in public, which was peculiar to him, but there was
no affectation in it."
At ten o'clock, p.m., on the day of his trial, the barbarous sentence of the law — the same that we have so recently heard passed on prisoners standing in that same dock, accused of the same offence against the rulers of this country — was passed on Robert Emmet. Only a few hours were given him in which to withdraw his thoughts from the things of this world, and fix them on the next. He was hurried away, at midnight, from Newgate to Kilmainham jail, passing through Thomas Street, the scene of his attempted insurrection. Hardly had the prison- van driven through, when workmen arrived and commenced the erection of the gibbet from which his body was to be suspended. About the hour of noon, on the 20th of September, he mounted the scaffold with a firm and composed demeanor ; a minute or two more, and the lifeless remains of one of the most gifted of God's creatures hung from the crossbeams — slrangled by the
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
51
enemies of his country — cut off in the bloom of youth, in the prime of his physical and intellectual powers, because he had loved his own land, hated her oppressors, and striven to give freedom to his people. But not yet was English vengeance satiafied. While the body was yet warm it was cut down from the gibbet, the nec'c placed across a block on the scaffold, and the head severed from the body. Then the executioner held it up before the horrified and sorrowing crowd that stood outside the lines of soldiery, proclaimmg to them — -'' This is the head of a traitor!" A traitor! It was a false proclamation. No traitor was he, but a true and noble gentleman. No traitor, but a most faithful heart to all that was worthy of love and honor. No traitor, but a martyr for Ireland The people who stood agonized before his scaffold, tears streaming from their eyes, and their hearts bursting with suppressed emotion, knew that for them and for Ireland he had offered up his young life. And when the deed was finished, and the mutilated body had been taken away, and the armed guards had marched from the fatal spot, old people and young moved up to it to dip their handkerchiefs in the blood of the martyr, that they might then treasure up the relics forever. Well has his memory been cherished in the Irish heart from that day to the present time. Six years ago a procession of Irishmen, fifteen thousand 'strong, bearing another rebel to his grave, passed by the scene of that execution, every man of whom reverently uncovered his head as he reached the hallowed spot. A few months ago, a banner borne in another Irish insurrection displayed the inscription —
" REMEMBER EMMET."
Far away " beyond the Atlantic foam," and " by the long wash of Australasian seas," societies are in existence bearing his name, and having for their object to cherish his memory and perpetuate his principles. And wherever on the habitable globe a few members of the scattered Irish race are to be found, there are hearts that are thrilled by even the faintest allusion to the uninscribed grave-stone, and the unwritten epitaph.
52 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
THOMAS RUSSELL. ^HEN Emmet was dead, and the plan to which he de^
voted his fortune, his talents, and his life, had sunk in failure, the cause of Irish independence appeared finally lost, and the cry, more than once repeated in after times, that '' now, indeed, the last bolt ot Irish disaffection has been sped, and that there would never again be an Irish rebellion," rung loudly from the exulting enemies of Ireland. The hearts of the people seemed broken by the weight of the misfortunes and calamities that over- whelmed them. The hopes which had brightened their stormy path, and enabled them to endure the oppression to which they were subjected by expectations of a glorious change, flickered no longer amidst the darkness. The efforts of the insurgents were everywhere drowned in blood , the hideous memories of '98 were brought up anev/ ; full of bitter thoughts, exasperated, humiliated, and despondent, the people brooded over theif ►wretched fate, and sullenly submitted to the reign of terror which was inaugurated amongst them. Little had the Irish patriots to look forward to in that dark hour of suffering and disappointment. A nightmare of blood and violence weighed down the spirits of the people ; a stupor appeared to have fallen on the nation ; and though time might be trusted to arouse them from the trance, they had suffered another loss, not so easily repaired, in the death and dispersion of their leaders Where now should they find the Moses to lead them from the land of captivity ? Tone, Fitzgerald, Emmet, Bond,M'Cracken, the Sheareses — all were dead. M'Nevin, Neilson, and O'Connor were in exile. Heavily and relentlessly the arm of vengeance had fallen on them, one by one ; but the list was not even then completed. There was yet another victim to fall before the altar of liberty, and the sacrifice which commenced with Orr did not conclude until Thomas Russell had perished on the gallows of Downpatrick.
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
53
The importance of the part which Thomas Ruf^ell fills in the history of the United Irishmen, the worth of his character, the purity and nobility of his sentiments, and the spirit of uncom- promising patriotism displayed in his last address, would render unpardonable the omission of his name from such a work as this. '' I mean to make my trial," said Russell, "and the last of my life, it it is to close now, as serviceable to the cause of liberty as I can," and he kept his word. To-day, we try in some slight way to requite that fidelity which endured unto death, by rescuing Thomas Russell's name from oblivion, and recalling his services and virtues to the recollection of his countrymen.
He was born at Betsborough, Dunnahane, in the p: rish of Kilshanick, county Cork, on the 2ist November, 1767. His father was an officer in the British army, who had fought against the Irish Brigade in the memorable battle'of Fontenoy, and who died in a high situation in the Royal Hospital at Kilmain- ham. Thomas, the youngest of his three sons, was educated for the Protestant Church ; but his inclinations sought a different field of action, and at the age of fifteen he left for India as a volunteer, where he served with his brother, Ambrose, whose gallantry in battle called down commendation from the English king. Thomas Russell quitted India after five years' service, and his return is ascribed to the disgust and indignation which filled him on witnessing the extortions, the cruelties, the usurpations, and brutalities which were carried out and sanctioned by the government under which he served. He left Ireland burdened with few fixed political principles, and little knowledge of the world ; he returned a full-grown man, imbued with the opinions which he never afterwards abandoned. He was then, we are told, a model of manly beauty, one of those favored mdividuals whom we cannot pass in the street without being guilty of the rudeness of staring in the face while passing, and turning round to look at the receding figure. Though more than six feet high, his majestic stature was scarcely observed, owing to the exquisite symmetry of his form. Martial in his gait and demeanor, his appearance was not altogether that of
- . SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
a soldier. His dark and steady eye, compressed lip, and somewhat haughty bearing, were occasionally strongly indicative of the camp ; but in general the classic contour of his finely-formed head, the expression of sweetness that characterized his smile, and the benevolence that beamed in his fine countenance, seemed to mark him out as one that was destined to be the ornament, grace, and blessing of private life. His manners were those of the finished gentleman, combined with that native grace which nothing but superiority of intellect can give ; he was naturally reserved and retiring in disposition, and his private life was dis- tinguished by eminent purity, and an unostentatious devotion to the precepts of religion.
Such was Thomas Russell, when he made the acquaintance of Theobald Wolfe Tone in Dublin. There is no doubt that the views and opinions of Tone made a profound impression on young Russell ; it is equally certain, on the other hand, that Tone learned to love and esteem his new friend, whose senti- ments were so much in accordance with his own. Throughout Tone's journal we find constant references to Thomas Russell, whom he always places with Thomas Addis Emmet at the head of his list of friends. Early in 179 1, Russell proceeded to Belfast, to join the 64th Regiment, in which he had obtained a com- mission ; before leaving Dublin he appears to have become a member of the Society of United Irishmen, and in Belfast he soon won the friendship, and shared the councils of the patri- otic men who were laboring for Ireland in that city.
While in Belfast, Russell fell into pecuniary embarrassments. His generous and confiding nature induced him to go bail for a false friend, and he found himself one morning obliged to meet a claim for ^200, which he had no means of discharging, except by the sale of his Commission. Russell sold out and re- tired to Dungannon, where he lived for some time on the resi- due of the money thus obtained, and during this period he was appointed a Justice of the Peace for the county of Tyrone. After a short experience of '* Justices' justice" in the North, he retired from the bench, through motives alike creditable to his
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
55
head and heart. "I cannot reconcile it to my conscience/' he
exclaimed one day, " to sit on a bench where the practice exists of inquiring what religion a person is before investigating the charge against him." Russell returned, after taking this step, to Belfast, where he was appointed to a situation in the public library of the town, and where he became a regular contributor to the organ of the Ulster patriots, the Northern Star.
In 1796 he was appointed by the United Irishmen to the supreme military command in the county Down, a post for which his military experience, not less than his personal in- fluence, fitted him, but his political career was soon afterwards interrupted by his arrest on the 26th of September, 1796. Russell was removed to Dublin, and lodged in Newgate Prison; his arrest filled the great heart of Tone, who was then toiling for his country in France, w^ith sorrow and dismay. "■ It is im- possible," he says, in his journal, '* to conceive the effect this misfortune has on my mind. If we are not in Ireland in time to extricate him he is lost, for the government will move heaven and earth to ensure his condemnation. Good God!" he adds, " if Russell and Neilson fall, where shall I find two others to re- place them ?" During the eventful months that intervened between the date of his arrest and the 19th of March, 1799, poor Russell remained chafing his imprisoned soul, filled with patriotic passion and emotion, in his prison cell in Kilmainham. On the latter date, when the majority of his associates were dead, an their followers scattered and disheartened, he was transferred to Fort George in Scotland, where he spent three years more in captivity. The government had no specific charge against him, but they feared his influence, and distrusted his in- tentions, and they determined to keep him a prisoner while a chance remained of his exerting his power against them. No better illustration ot Russell's character and principles could be afforded than that supplied in the following extract from one of the letters written by him during his incarceration in Fort George : — *' To the people of Ireland," he writes, addressing an Irish friend and sympathizer, ** lam responsible for my actions :
56
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK
amidst the uncertainties of life this may be my valedictory ^et^ ter ; what has occasioned the failure of the cause is useless to speculate on — Providence orders all things for the best. I am sure the people will never abandon the cause ; I am equally sure it will succeed. I trust men will see," he adds, referring to the infidel views then unhappily prevalent, " that the only true basis of liberty is morality, and the only stable basis of mor« ality is religion."
In 1802 the government, failing to establish any distinct charge against Russell, set him at liberty, and he at once re- paired to Paris, where he met Robert Emmet, who was then preparing to renew the effort of Fitzgerald and Wolfe Tone. Time had not changed, nor suffering damped, the patriotic im- pulses of Thomas Russell; he entered heartily into the plans of young Emmet, and when the latter left for Ireland in Novem- ber, 1802, to prosecute his hazardous enterprise, it was with the full understanding that Russell would stand by his side in the post of danger, and with him perish or succeed. In accor- dance with this arrangement, Russell followed Robert Emmet to Dublin, where he arrived so skilfully disguised that even his own family failed to recognize him. Emmet's plans^ for the outbreak in Dublin were matured when Russell, with a a trusty companion, was dispatched northwards to summon the Ulster men to action. Buoyant in spirit, and filled with high expectation, he entered on his mission, but he returned to Dublin a week later, prostrate in spirit, and with a broken heart. One of his first acts on arriving in Belfast was to issue a proclamation, in which, as '' General-in-Chief of the Northern District," he summoned the people of Ulster to action.
The North, however, refused to act. It was the old, old story. Belfast resolved on waiting *' to see what the South would do," and the South waited for Belfast. Disgusted and disappointed, Russell quitted the northern capital, and proceeded to Antrim, where at least he thought he might expect to find cordial co-operation ; but fresh disappointments awaited him, and with a load of misery at his heart, such as he had never
SPEECHES FROM THE DOOC.
5;
felt before, Russell returned to Dublin, where he lived in seclu« sioR, until arrested by Major Sirr and his myrmidons on the 9th of Septembor, 1803. A reward of ^1,500 had been offered for his apprehension. We learn on good authority that the ruf- fianly town-major, on arresting him, seized the unfortunate pa- triot rudely by the neck-cloth, whereupon Russell, a far more powerful man than his assailant, flung him aside, and drawing a pistol exclaimed — " I will not be treated with indignity." Sirr parleyed for awhile ; a file of soldiers was meanwhile sum- moned to his aid, and Russell was borne off in irons, a prisoner, to the Castle. While undergoing this second captivity, a bold attempt was made by his friends to effect his liberation, by bribing one of the gaolers ; the plot, however, broke down, and Russell never breathed the air of freedom again. While await- ing his trial — that trial which he knew could have but one ter- mination, the death of a felon — Russell addressed a letter to one of his friends outside, in which the following noble passage, the fittest epitaph to be engraved on his tombstone, occurs: — ''I mean to make my trial," he writes, ''and the last of my lifcj if it is to close now, as serviceable to the cause of liberty as I can. / trust my coiuitrynien will ever adJiere to it; I know it will soon prosper. When the country is free," he adds — that it would be free he never learned to doubt — " I beg they may lay my remains with my father in a private manner, and pay the few debts I owe. I have only to beg of my countrymen to re- member that the cause of liberty is the cause of virtue, ivhich^ T trust, they zvill 7iever abandon. May God bless and prosper them, and when power comes into their hands, I entreat them to use it with moderation. May God and the Saviour bless them all."
Russell was taken to Downpatrick, escorted by a strong force of cavalry, where he was lodged in the governor's rooms, pre- paratory to being tried in that town by a Special Commission. While in prison in Downpatrick he addressed a letter to Miss M'Cracken, a sister of Henry Joy M'Crackcn, one of the insur- gent leaders of 1798, in which he speaks as follows; ** Humanly
58
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
speaking, I expect to be found guilty, and immediately ex& cuted. As this may be my last letter, I shall only say that I did my best for my country and for mankind. I have no wish to die, but far from regretting its loss in such a cause, had I t thousand lives I would willingly risk or lose them in it. Be as. sured, liberty will in the midst of those storms be established, and God will wipe the tears from all eyes."
The sad anticipations expressed by Russell were but too fully borne out. There was short shrift in those days for Irishmen accused of treason, and the verdict of guilty, which he looked forward to with so much resignation, was delivered before the last rays of the sun which rose on the morning of the trial had faded in the gloaming. It was sworn that he had attended treasonable meetings, and distributed green uniform^ ; that he asked those who attended them, '' if they did not desire to get rid of the Sassanaghs ;" that he spoke of 30,000 stands of arms from France, but said if France should fail them, '' forks, spades, shovels, and pickaxes" would serve that purpose. It was useless to struggle against such testimony, palpably false, and distorted as it was in some parts, and Russell decided on cutting short the proceedings. '' I shall not trouble my lawyers," he said, ** to make any statement in my case. There are but three possible modes of defence — firstly, by calling witnesses to prove the inno- cence of my conduct ; secondly, by calling them to impeach the credit of opposite witnesses, or by proving an alibi. As I can resort to none of these modes of defence without involving others, I consider myself precluded from any." Previous to the Judge's charge, the prisoner asked — '' If it was not permit- ted to persons in his situation to say a few words, as he wished to give his valedictory advice to his countrymen in as concise a manner as possible, being well convinced how speedy the transition was from that vestibule of the grave to the scaffold." He was told in reply, '' that he would have an opportunity of expressing himself," and when the time did come, Russell ad- vanced to the front of the dock, and spoke in a clear, firn^ tone of voice, as follows : —
SFEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 59
^ Before I adcfrcss myself to this audience, I return my sincere thanks to my learned counsel for the exertions they have made, in which they displayed so much talent. I return my thanks to the gentlemen on th« part of the crown, for the accommodation and indulgence I have received during my confinement. I return my thanks to the gentlemen of the jury, for the patient investigation they have afforded my case ; and I return my thnnks to the court, for the attention and politeness they have shown me during my trial. As to my political sentiments, I shall, in as brief a manner as possible ^for I do not wish to engross the time of the court), say a few words. I look back to the last thirteen years of my life, the period with which I have interfered with the transactions of Ireland, with entire satisfaction ; though for my share in them I am now about to die — the gentlemen of the jury having, by their verdict, put the seal of truth on the evidence against me. Whether, at this time, and the country being situated as it is, it be safe to inflict the punishment of death upon me for the offence I am charged with, I leave to the gentlemen who conduct the prosecution. My death, perhaps, may be useful in deterring others from following my example. It may serve, on the other hand, as a memorial to others, and on trying occasions it may inspire them with courage. I can now say, as far as my judgment enabled me, I acted for the good of my country and of the world. It may be presumptuous for me to deliver my opinions here as a statesman, but as the government have singled me out as a leader, and given me the appellation of " General," I am in some degree entitled to do so. To me it is plain that all things are verging towards a change, when all shall be of one opinion. In ancient times, we read of great empires having their rise and their fall, and yet do the old governments proceed as if all were immutable. From the time I could observe and reflect, I perceived that there were two kinds of laws^the laws of the state, and the laws of God — frequently clashing with each other ; by the latter kind, I have always endeavored to regulate my conduct ; but that laws of the former kind do exist in Ireland I believe no one who hears me can deny. That such laws have existed in former times, many and various examples clearly evince. The Saviour of the world suffered by the Roman laws — by the same laws His Apostles were put to the torture, and deprived of their lives in His cause. By my conduct I do not consider that I have incurred any moral guilt. I have committed no moral evil, I do not want the many and bright examples of those gone before me ; but did I want this encouragement, the recent example of a youthful hero — a martyr in the cause of liberty — who has just died for his country, would inspire me. I have descended into the vale of manhood. I have learned to estimate the reality and delusions of this world ; he was surrounded by everything which could endear this world to him — in the bloom of youth, with fond attachments, and with all the fascinating charms of health and innocence ; to his death I look back even in this moment with rapture. I have travelled
Co SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
much, and seen various parts of the world, and I think the Irish are the most virtuous nation on the face of the earth — they are a good and brave people, and had I a thousand lives I would yield them in their service. If it be the will of God that I suffer for that with which I stand charged,! am perfectly resigned to His holy will and dispensation, I do not wish to trespass much more on the time of those that heai me, and did I do so an indisposition which has seized on me since I came into court would prevent my purpose. Before I depart from this for a better world I wish to address myself to the landed aristocracy of this country. The word "aristocracy" I do not mean to use as an insulting epithet, but in the common sense of the expression.
'' Perhaps, as my voice may now be considered as a voice crying ^rom the grave, what I now say may have some weight. I see around me many, who during the last years of my life, have disseminated principles for which I am now to die. Those gentlemen, who have all the wealth and the power of the country in their hands, I strongly advise, and earnestly exhort, to pay attention to the poor — by the poor I mean the laboring class of the community, their tenantry and dependants. I advise them for their good to look into their gjrievances, to sympathize in their distress, and to spread comfort and happiness around their dwellings. It might be that they may not hold theii power long, but at all events to attend to the wants and distresses of the poor is their truest interest. If they hold their power, they wiU thits have friends around them ; if they lose it, their fall will be gentle, and I am sure unless they act thus they can never be happy. 1 shall now appeal to the right honorable gentleman in whose hands the lives of the other prisoners are, and entreat that he will rest satisfied with my death, and let that atone for those errors into which I may have been supposed to have deluded others. I trust the gentleman will restore them to their families and friends. If he shall do so, I can assure him that the breeze which conveys to him the prayers and blessings of their wives and children will be more grateful than that which may be tainted with the stench of putrid corpses, or carrying with it the cries of the widow and the orphan. Standing as I do in the presence of God and of man, I entreat him to let my life atone for the faults of all, and that my blood alone may flow.
" If I am then to die, I have therefore two requests to make. The first is, that as I have been engaged in a work possibly of some advantage to the world, I may be indulged with three days for its completion ; secondly, that as there are those ties which even death cannot sever, and as there are those who may have some regard for what will remain of me after death, I request that my remains, disfigured as tney will be, may be delivered after the execution of the sentence to those dear friends, that they may be conveyed to the ground where my parents are laid, and where those faithful few may have a consecrated spot over which they may be permitted to grieve. I have now to declare,
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCR. ^i
ivhen about to pass into the presence of Almighty God, that I feel no enmity in my mind to any being, none to those who have borne testimony against me, and none to the jury who have pronounced the verdict of my death."
The last request of Russell was refused, and he was executed twelve hours after the conclusion of the triaL At noon, on the 2 1 St of October, 1803, he was borne pinioned to the place of execution. Eleven regiments of soldiers were concentrated in the town to overawe the people and defeat any attempt at rescue; yet even with this force at their back, the authorities were far from feeling- secure. The interval between the trial and execution w?s so short that no preparation could be made for the erection of a scaffold, except the placing of some barrels under the gateway of the main entrance to the prison, with planks placed upon them as a platform, and others sloping uo from the ground, by which it was ascended. On the ground hard by, were placed a sack of saw^dust, an axe, a block, and a knife. After ascending the scaffold, Russell gazed forward through the archway — towards the people, whose white faces could be seen glistening outside, and again expressed his for- giveness of his persecutors. His manner*, we are told, was per- fectly calm, and he died without a struggle.
A purer soul, a more blamless spirit, than Thomas Russell, never sunk on the battle-field of freedom. Fixed in principles, and resolute in danger, he was nevertheless gentle, courteous, unobstrusive, and humane ; with all the modesty and unaf- fectedness of childhood, he united the zeal of a martyr and the courage of a hero. To the cause of his country he devoted all his energies and all his will ; and when he failed to render it prosperous in life, he illumined it by his devotion and stead- fastness in death. The noble speech given above, and the pas- sages from his letters which we have quoted, are sufficient in themselves to show how chivalrous was the spirit, how noble the motives of Thomas Russell. The predictions which he ut- tered with so much confidence have not indeed been fulfiled, and the success which he looked forward to so hopefully has never
^2 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCIC.
been won. But his advice, so often repeated in his letters, is still adhered to ; his countrymen have not yet learned to aban- don the cause in which he suffered, and they still cherish the conviction which he so touchingly expressed — " that liberty will, in the midst of these storms be established, and that God will yet wipe off the tears of the Irish nation."
Russell rests in the churchyard of the Protestant church of Downpatrick. A plain slab marks the spot where ne is laid. and there is on it this single line —
" THE GRAVE OF RUSSELL."
We have now closed our reference to the portion of Irish his- tory comprised within the years 1798 and 1803, and as far as con- cerns the men who suffered for Ireland in those disastrous days, our *' Speeches from the dock" are concluded. We leave be- hind us the struggle of 1798, and the men who organized it ; we turn from the records of a period reeking with the gore of Ire- land's truest sons, and echoing with the cries and curses of the innocent and oppressed ; we pass without notice the butcheries and outrages that filled the land, while our countrymen were being sabred into submission ; and we leave behind us, too, the short-lived insurrection of 1803, ^^^ ^^^ chivalrous young patriot who perished with it. We turn to more recent events, less appalling in their general aspect, but not less impor- tant in their consequences, or less interesting to the present generation, and take up the next link in the unbroken chain of protests against British rule in Ireland with the lives and the fortunes of the patriots of 1848. How faithfully the principles of freedom have been handed down — how nobly the men of our own times have imitated the patriots of the past — how thor- oughly the sentimeiit- expressed from the Green Street dock nine- teen years ago coincide with the declarations of Tone, of Em- met, and of Russell — our readers will shortly have an oppor- tunity of judging. They will see how all the sufferings and all the calann.'^'es that darkened the path of the martyrs of '98 were insufficient to deter others, as gifted, as earnest, and as
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK, 63
chivalrous as they, from following in their footsteps ; and how unquenchable and unending, as the altar light of the fire-wor- shipper, the generous glow of patriotic enthusiasm was trans- mitted through generations, unaffected by the torrents of blood in which it was sought to extinguish it.
The events of our own generation — the acts of contemporary patriots — now claim our attention ; but we are reluctant as yet to turn over the page, and drop the curtain on the scenes with which we have hitherto been dealing, and which we feel we have inadequately described. We have spoken of the men whose speeches from the dock are on record, but we still lin- ger over the history of the events in which they shared, and of the men who were associated with them in their endeavors. The patriots whose careers we have glanced at are but a few out of the number of Irishmen who suffered during the same period, and in the same cause, and whose actions recommend them to the admiration and esteem of posterity. Confining ourselves strictly to those whose speeches after conviction have reached us, the list could not well be extended ; but there are many who acted as brave a part, and whose memories are inseparable from the history of the period. We should have desired to speak, were the scope of our labors more extended, of the brave Lord Edward Fitzgerald, the gallant and the true, who sacrificed his position, his prospects, and his life, for the good old cause, and whose arrest and death contributed more largely, perhaps, than any other cause that could be assigned to the failure of the insurrection of 1798. Descended from an old and noble family, possessing in a remarkable degree all the attributes and embellishments of a popular leader, young and spirited, eloquent and wealthy, ardent, generous, and brave, of good address, and fine physical proportions, it Is not surprising that Lord Edward Fitzgerald became the idol of the patriot party, and was appointed by them to a leading position ^i the organization. Lord Edward Fitzgerald was born in October, 1763 ; being the fifth son of James, Duke of Leinster, the twen- tieth Earl of Kildare. He grew up to manhood, as a recent
54 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
writer has observed, when the drums of the Volunteers were pealing their marches of victory ; and under the stirring events of the period his soul burst through the shackles that had long bound down the Irish aristocracy in servile dependence. In his early years he served in the American War of Independ- ence on the side of despotism and oppression — a circumstance v/hich in after years caused him poignant sorrow. He joined the United Irishmen about the time that Thomas Addis Em- met entered their ranks, and the young nobleman threw him- self into the movement with all the ardor and energy of his nature. He was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the National forces in the south, and labored with indefatigable zeal in per. fecting the plans for the outbreak on the 23rd of May, The story of his arrest and capture is too well known to need repe- tition. Treachery dogged the steps of the young patriot, and after lying for some weeks in concealment, he was arrest^^d on the 19th day of May, 1798, two months after his associates in the direction of the movement had been arrested at Oliver Bond's. His gallant struggle with his captors, fighting like a lion at bay, against the miscreants who assailed him ; his assas- sination, his imprisonment, and his death, are events to which the minds of the Irish nationalists perpetually recur, and which, celebrated in song and story, are told with sympathizing regret wherever a group of Irish blood are gathered around the hearth- stone. His genius, his talents, and his influence, his unswerv- ing attachment to his country, and his melancholy end, cast an air of romance around his history ; and the last ray of grati- tude must fade fromi the Irish heart before the name of the martyred patriot, v/ho sleeps in the vaults of St. Werburg, will be forgotten in the land of his birth.
In less than a fortnight after Lord Edward expired in New gate, another Irish rebel, distinguished by his talents, his fidelity, and his position, expiated with his life the crime of "lov- ing his country above his king." It is hard to mention Thomas Russell, and ignore H^nry Joy M'Cracken — it is hard to speak of the insurrection of '98 and forget the gallant young Irish-
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK, 65
man who commanded at the battle of Antrim, and who per- ished a few weeks subsequently, in the bloom of his manhood, on the scaffold in Belfast. Henry Joy M'Cracken was one of the first members of the Society of United Irishmen, and he was one of the best. He was arrested, owing to private infor. mation received by the government, on the loth of October, 1796 — three weeks after Russell, his friend and confidant, was flung into prison — and lodged in Newgate Jail, where he re- mained until the 8th of September in the following year. He was then liberated on bail, and immediately, on regaining his liberty- returned to Belfast, still bent on accomplishing at all hazards the liberation of his country. Previous to the out- break in May, '98, he had frequent interviews with the patriot leaders in Dublin, and M'Cracken was appointed to the com. mand of the insurgent forces in Antrim. Filled with impa. tience and patriotic ardor, he heard of the stirring events that followed the arrest of Lord Edward Fitzgerald , he concentra- ted all his energies in preparing the Northern patriots for ac- tion, but circumstances uciayed the outbreak in that quarter, and it was not until the 6th of June, 1798, that M'Cracken had peifected his arrangements for taking the field, and issued the following brief proclamation, "■ dated the first year of liberty, 6th of June, 1798," address, d to the Army of Ulster: —
"To-morrow we march on Antrim. Drive the garrison of Randalstown before you, and hasten to form a junction with your Commander-in-chief."
Twenty-one thousand insurgents were to have rallied at the call of M'Cracken, but not more than seven thousand respond- ed to the summons. Even this number, however, would have been sufficient to strike a successful blow, which would have filled the hearts of the gallant Wexford men, then in arms, with exultation, and effected incalculable results on the fate of Ire- land, had not the curse of the Irish cause, treachery and be- trayal, again come to the aid of its enemies. Hardly had the plans for the attack on Antrim been perfected, when the secrets of the conspirators were revealed to General Nugent, who com«
56 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
manded the British troops In the North, and the defeat of the insurgents was thus secured. M'Cracken's forces marched to the attack on Antrim with great regularity, chorusing the '* Marseillaise Hymn" as they charged through the town. Their success at first seemed complete, but the English general, acting on the information wliich had treacherously been sup- plied him, had taken effective means to disconcert and defeat them. Suddenly, and as it seemed, in the flush of victory, the insurgents found themselves exposed to a galling fire from, a force posted at either end of the town ; a gallant resistance was offered, but it was vain. The insurgents fled from the fatal spot, leaving 500 of their dead and dying behind them, and at nightfall Henry Joy M'Cracken found himself a fugitive and a ruined man. For some weeks he managed to baffle the blood- hounds on his track, but he was ultimately arrested and tried by court-martial in Belfast, on the 17th July, 1798. On the evening of the same day he was executed. We have it on the best authority that he bore his fate with calmness, resolution, and resignation. It is not his fault that a "Speech from the dock" under his name is not amongst our present collection. He had actually prepared one, but his brutal judges would not listen to the patriot's exculpation. He was hung, amidst the sobs and tears of the populace, in front of the old market- place of Belfast, and his remains were interred in the grave- yard now covered by St. George's Protestant church.
Later still in the same year, two gallant young officers of Irish blood shared the fate of Russell and M'Cracken. They sailed with Humbert from Rochelle ; they fought at Castlebar and Ballinamuck; and when the swords of their French allies were sheathed, they passed into the power of their foes. Mat- thew Tone was one of them ; the other was Bartholomew Teeling. The latter filled the rank of Etat-major in the French army; and a letter from his commanding officer, General Hum- bert, was read al his trial, in which the highest praise was given to the young officer for the humane exertions which he made throughout his last brief campaign in the interest of mercyc
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK
67
^ His hand," he said, '' was ever raised to stay the useless effu- sion of blood, and his protection was afforded to the prostrate and defenceless." But his military judges paid little heed to those extenuating circumstances, and Teeling was condemned to die on the day of his trial. He perished on the 24th Sep- tember, 1798, being then in his twenty-fourth year. He marched with a proud step to the place of execution on Arbor Hill, Dublin, and he died, as a soldier might, with unshaken firmness and unquailing mien. No lettered slab marks the place of his interment ; and his bones remain in unhallowed and unconsecrated ground. Hardly had his headless body ceased to palpitate, when it was flung into a hole at the rear of the Royal Barracks. A few days later the same unhonored spot re- ceived the mortal remains of Matthew Tone. " He had a more enthusiastic nature than any of us," writes his brother, Theo- bald Wolfe Tone, "" and he was a sincere republican, capa- ble of sacrificing everything for his principles." His execution was conducted with infamous cruelty and brutality, and the life-blood was still gushing from his body when it was flung into *' the Croppy's Hole." "The day will come," says Dr. Madden, *'when that desecrated spot will be hallowed ground — conse- crated by religion — trod lightly by pensive patriotism — and dec- orated by funeral trophies in honor of the dead whose bones lie there in graves that are now neglected and unhonored."
There are others of the patriot leaders who died in exile, far away from the land for which they suffered, and whose graves were dug on alien shores by the heedless hands of the stranger. This was the fate of Addis Emmet, of Neilson, and of M'Nevin. In Ireland they were foremost and most trusted amongst the gifted and brilliant throng that directed the labors and shaped the purposes of the United Irishmen. They sur- vived the reign of terror that swallowed up the majority of their compatriots, and, when milder councils began to prevail, they were permitted to go forth from the dungeon which confined them, into banishment. The vision of Irish freedom was not permitted to dawn upon them in life ; far beyond
\-
(58 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
the sandy slopes washed by the Western Atlantic, they watched the fortunes of the old land with hopeless but enduring love. Their talents, their virtues, and their patriotism were not unappreciated by the people amongst whom they spent their closing years of life. In the busiest thoroughfare of the greatest city of America there towers over the heads of the by-passers the monument of marble which grateful hands have raised to the memory of Addis Emmet. In the centre of Western civilization, the home of republican liberty, the stranger reads in glowing words, of the virtues and the fame of the brother of Robert Emmet, sculptured on the noble pillar erected in Broadway, New York, to his memory. Nor was he the only one of his party to whom such an honor was accorded. A stone-throw from the spot where the Emmet monument stands, a memorial not less commanding in its proportions and appearance, was erected to William James M'Nevin; and the American citizen, as he passes through the spacious streets of that city, which the genius of liberty has rendered prosper- ous and great, gazes proudly on those stately monuments, which tell him that the devotion to freedom which England punished and proscribed, found in his own land the recogni- tion which it merited from the gallant and the free.*
* The inscriptions on the Emmet monument are in three languageSr-»Irish, Latin, and Enghsh. The Irish inscription consists of the following lines ;—
Do mhiannaich so ardmtdh
Cum tir a breith Do thug se clue a's fuair se molcidb
An deig a bais.
The following is the English inscription :
In Memory oj
THOMAS ADDIS EMMET. Who exemplified in his conduct,
And adorned by his integrity,
The policy and principles of the
UNITED IRISHMEN—
" To forward a brotherhood of affection,
•*A community of rights, an identity of interests, and a union of poWBf
"Among Irishmen of ever)- religious persuasion,
*'As the only means of Ireland's chief good,
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
JOHN MITCHEL.
69
UBSEQUENT to the melancholy tragedy of 1803, ^ period of indescribable depression was experienced in Ireland. Defeat, disaster, ruin, had fallen upon the national cause ; the power on whose friendly aid so much reliance had been placed was humbled, and Eng.- land stood before the world in the full blaze of tri- umph and glory. Her fleet was undisputed mistress of the ocean having swept it of all hostile shipping, and left to the enemy little more than the small craft that sheltered in narrow creeks and under the guns of well-defended harbors. Her army, if not numerically large, had proved its valor on many a well- fought field, and shown that it knew how to bring victory to light upon its standards ; and, what was not less a matter of wonder to others, and of pride to herself, the abundance of her wealth and the extent of her resources were shown to be with-
"An impartial and adequate representation
"In an Irish Parliament,"
For this (mysterious fate of virtue) exiled from his native land,
In America, the land of Freedom,
He found a second country,
Which paid his love by reverencing his genius.
Learned in our laws, and in the laws of Europe,
In the literature of our times, and in that of antiquity,
All knowledge seemed subject to his use.
An orator of the first order, clear, copious, fervid,
Alike powerful to kindle the imagination, touch the affections^
And sway the reason and will.
Simple in his tastes, unassuming in his manners,
Frank, generous, kind-hearted, and honorable,
'His private life was beautiful,
As his public course was brilliant.
Anxious to perpetuate
The name and example of such a man,
Alike illustrious by his genius, his virtues, and his fate;
Consecrated to their affections by his sacrifices, his perilSy
And the deeper calamities of his kindred,
In A Just and Holy Cause;
His sympathizing countrymen
Erected this Monument and Cenotaph.
70
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
out a parallel In the world. Napoleon was an exile on the rock of St. Helena; the " Holy Alliance" — as the European sover- eigns blasphemously designated themseh^es — were lording it over the souls and bodies of men by " right divine ;" the free and noble principles in which the French Revolution had its origin were now sunk out of sight, covered with the infamy of the Reign of Terror and the responsibility of the series of deso- lating wars which had followed it, and no man dared to speak for them. Those were dark days for Ireland. Her parliament was gone, and in the blighting shade of the provincialism to which she was reduced, genius and courage seemed to have died out from the land. Thousands of her bravest and most devoted children had perished in her cause — some on the scaf- fold, and others on the field of battle — and many whose pres- ence at home would have been invaluable to her were obliged to seek safety in exile. So Erin, the crownless queen, sat in the dust, with fetters on her limbs, her broken sword fallen from her hand, and with mournful memories lying heavy on her heart. The feelings of disappointment and grief then rankling in every Irish breast are well mirrored in that plaintive song of our national poet, which opens with these tristful lines : —
'* *Tis gone, and forever, the light we saw breaking.
Like heaven's first dawn o'er the sleep of the dead, When man, from the slumber of ages awaking,
Looked upward and blessed the pure ray ere it fled. *Tis gone, and the gleams it has left of its burning,
But deepen the long night of bondage and mourning, That dark o'er the kingdoms of earth is returning,
And darkest of all, hapless Erin, o'er thee."
In this gloomy condition of affairs there was nothing for Irish patriotism to do except to seek for the removal, by con- stitutional means, of some of the cruel grievances that pressed on the people. Emancipation of the Catholics from the large remainder of the penal laws that still degraded and despoiled them was one of the baits held out by Mr. Pitt when playing his cards for the Union; but not long had the Irish Parliament
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCIC.
;i
been numbered with the things that were, when it became evi- dent that the minister was in no hurry to fulfil his engagement, and it was found necessary to take some steps for keeping him to his promise. Committees were formed, meetings were held, speeches were made, resolutions were adopted, and all the machinery of parliamentary endeavor was put in motion. The leaders of the Catholic cause in this case, like those of the national cause in the preceding years, were liberal-minded Pro- testant gentlemen; but as time wore on, a young barrister from Kerry, one of the old race and the old faith, took a decided lead amongst them, and soon became its recognized champion, the elect of the nation, the *' man of the people." Daniel O'Connell stood forth, with the whole mass of his Catholic eountrymen at his back, to wage within the lines of the con- stitution this battle for Ireland. He fought it resolutely and skilfully; the people supported him with an unanimity and an enthusiasm that w^ere wonderful; their spirit rose and strength- ened to that degree that the probability of another civil war began to loom up in the near future — inquiries instituted by the government resulted in the discovery that the Catholics serving in the army, and who constituted at least a third of its strength, were in full sympathy with their countrymen on this question, and could not be depended on to act against them — the minis- try recognized the critical condition of affairs, saw that there was danger in delay, yielded to the popular demand — and Catholic Emancipation was won.
The details of that brilliant episode of Irish history cannot be told within the limits of this work, but some of its conse- quences concern us very nearly. The triumph of the constitu- tional struggle for Catholic Emancipation confirmed O'Connell in the resolution he had previously formed, to promote an agi- tation for a Repeal of the Union, and encouraged him to lay the proposal before his countrymen. The forces that had wrung the one measure of justice from an unwilling parliament were competent, he declared, to obtain the other. He soon succeeded in impressing his own belief on the minds of his
^2 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
countrymen, whose confidence in his wisdom and his powers was unbounded. The whole country responded to his call, and soon " the Liberator," as the emancipated Irish Catholics loved to call him, found himself at the head of a political or- ganization which in its mode of action, its extent, and its ardor was *' unique in the history of the world." Every city and great town in Ireland had its branch of the Repeal Associa- tion— every village had its Repeal reading-room, all deriving hope and life, and taking direction from the headquarters in Dublin, where the great Tribune himself " thundered and light- ened" at the weekly meetings. All Ireland echoed with his words. Newspapers, attaining thereby to a circulation never before approached in Ireland, carried them from one extremity of the land to the other — educating, cheering, and inspiring the hearts of the long downtrodden people. Nothing like this had ever occurred before. The eloquence of the patriot orators of the Irish parliament had not been brought hoqie to the masses of the population ; and the United Irishmen could only speak to them secretly, in whispers. But here were addresses glow- ing, and bold, and tender, brimful of native humor, scathing in their sarcasms, terrible in their denunciations, ineffably beauti- ful in their pathos — addresses that recalled the most glorious as well as the saddest memories of Irish history, and presented brilliant vistas of the future — addresses that touched to its fullest and most delicious vibration every chord of the Irish heart — here they were, being sped over the land in an unfailing and ever-welcome supply. The peasant read them to his family by the fireside, when his hard day's work was done, and the fisherman, as he steered his boat homeward, reckoned as not the least of his anticipated pleasures, the reading of the last report from Conciliation Hall. And it was not the humbler classes only who acknowledged the influence of the Repeal oratory, sympathized with the movement, and enrolled them- selves in the ranks. The priesthood, almost to a man, were members of the Association, and propagandists of its principles; the professional classes were largely represented in it ; of mer.
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
n
chants and traders, it could count up a long roll ; and many of the landed gentry, even though they held her Majesty's Com- mission of the Peace, were amongst its most prominent sup- porters. In short, the Repeal Association represented the Irish nation, and its voice was the voice of the people. The "Monster Meetings" of the year 1843 put this fact beyond the region of doubt or question. As popular demonstrations they were wonderful in their numbers, their order, and their enthu- siasm. O'Connell, elated by their success, fancied that his vic- tory was as good as won. He knew that things could not con- tinue to go on as they were going — either the government or the Repeal Association should give way, and he believed the government would yield. For, the Association, he assured his countrymen, was safe within the limits of the law, and not a hostile hand could be laid upon it without violating the con- stitution. His countrymen had nothing to do but obey the law and support the Association, and a Repeal of the Union within a few months was, he said, inevitable. In all this he had al- lowed his own heart to deceive him; and his mistake was clearly shown, when in October, 1843, the government, by proclama- tion, and a display of military force, prevented the intended monster meeting at Clontarf. It was still more fully estab- lished in the early part of the following year, when he, with a number of his political associates, was brought to trial for treasonable and seditious practices, found guilty, and sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment. The subsequent reversal of the verdict by the House of Lords, was a legal triumph for O'Connell; but, nevertheless, his prestige had suffered by the occurrence, and his policy had begun to pall upon the minds of the people.
After his release the business of the Association went on as before, only there was less of confidence and of defiance in the speeches of the Liberator, and there were no more monster meetings. He was now more emphatic than ever in his advo- cacy of moral force principles, and his condemnation of all ivarlike hints and allusions. The weight of age — he was then
M. SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
more than seventy years — was pressing on his once buoyant spirit ; his prison experience had damped his courage ; and he was haunted night and day by a conviction — terrible to his mind — that there was growing up under the wing of the As- sociation, a party that would teach the people to look to an armed struggle as the only sure means of obtaining the free- dom of their country. The writings of the Natio?i — then a new light in the literature and politics of Ireland — had a ring in them that was unpleasant to his ears, a sound as of clashing teel and the explosion of gunpowder. In the articles of that journal much honor was given to men who had striven for Irish freedom by other methods than those in favor at Conciliation Hall ; and the songs and ballads which it was giving to the youth of Ireland — who received them with delight, treasuring every line "as if an angel spoke" — were bright with the spirit of battle, and taught any doctrine except the sinfulness of fighting for liberty.
The Liberator grew fearful of that organ, and of the men by whom it was conducted. He distrusted that quiet-faced, thoughtful, and laborious young man, whom they so loved and reverenced — the founder, the soul, and the centre of their party. To the keen glance of the aged leader it ap- peared that for all that placid brow, those calm grey eyes, and softly curving lip of his, the man had no horror of blood- spilling in a righteous cause, and was capable not only of de- liberately inciting his countrymen to rise in arms against Eng- lish rule, but also of taking a foremost place in the struggle. And little less to be dreaded than Thomas Davis, was his friend and collahoratcur, Charles Gavan Duffy, whose sharp and active intellect and resolute spirit were not in the least likely to allow the national cause to rest forever on the peaceful platform of Conciliation Hall. Death removed Davis early from the scene; but in John Mitchel, who had taken his place, there was no gain to the party of moral force. Then there was that other young firebrand — that dapper, well-built, well-dressed, curled and scented young gentleman from the Urbs Intacta— wYiosQ
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
n
wondrous eloquence, with the glow of its thought, the bril- liancy and richness of its imagery, and the sweetness of its cadences, charmed and swayed all hearts — adding immensely to the dangers of the situation. O'Brien, too, staid and unim- pulsive as was his character, deliberate and circumspect as were his habits, was evidently inclined to give the weight of his name and influence to this" advanced" party. And there were many less prominent, but scarcely less able men giving them the aid of their great talents in the press and on the platform — not only men, but women too. Some of the most inspiriting of the strains that were inducing the youth of the country to familiarize themselves with steel blades and rifle-barrels proceed- ed from the pens of those fair and gifted beings. Day after day, as this party sickened of the stale platitudes, and timid counsels, and croolvcd policy of the Hall, O'Connell, his son John, and othe/ leading members of the Association, insisted more and more strongly on their doctrine of moral force, and indulged in the wildest and most absurd denunciations of the principle of armed resistance to tyranny. " The liberty of the world," ex- claimed O'Connell, *' is not worth the shedding of one drop of human blood." Notwitnstanding the profound disgust which the utterance of such sentiments caused to the bolder spirits in the Association, they would have continued within its fold, if those debasing principles had not been actipally formulated into a series of resolutions, and proposed for the acceptance of the Society. Then they rose against the ignoble doctrine which would blot the fair fame of all who ever fought for liberty in Ireland or elsewhere, and rank the noblest men the world ever saw in the category of fools and criminals. Meagher, in a brilliant oration, protested against the resolutions, and showed why he would not ''abhor and stigmatize the sword." Mr. John O'Connell interrupted and interfered with the speaker. It was plain that freedom of speech \/as to be had no longer on the platform of the Association, and that men of spirit had no longer any business there — Meagher took up his hat and left the Hall, and amongst the crowd that accompanied him;
;6
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
went William Smith O'Brien, Thomas Devin Reilly, Charles
Gavan Duffy, and John Mitchel.
After this disruption, which occurred on the 28th of July, 1846, came the formation of the " Irish Confederation" by the seceders. In the proceedings of the new Society Mr. Mitchel took a more prominent part than he had taken in the business of the Repeal Association. And he continued to write in his own terse and forcible style in the Nation. But his mind trav- elled too fast in the direction of war for either the journal or the society with which he was connected. The desperate con- dition of the country, now a prey to all the horrors of famine, for the awfully fatal effects of which the government was clearly responsible — the disorganization and decay of the Repeal party, consequent on the death of O'Connell — the introduction of Arms' Acts and other coercive measures by the government, and the growing ardor of the Confederate Clubs, were to him as signs and tokens unmistakable that there was no time to be lost in bringing matters to a crisis in which the people should hold their own by force of arms. Most of his political associates viewed the situation with more patience ; but Mr. Mitchel was resolved that even if he stood alone, ne woAild speak out his opinions to the people. In the latter part of December,
1847, he withdrew from the Nation, On the 5th of February,
1848, at the close of a debate, which lasted two days, on the merits of his policy of immediate resistance to the collection of rates, rents, and taxes, and the division on which was unfavor- able to him, he, with a number of friends and sympathizers, withdrew from the Confederation. Seven days afterwards, he issued the first nwmber of a newspaper, bearing the significant title of the United Irishmany and having for its motto the fol- lowing aphorism, quoted from Theobald Wolfe Tone: *'Our independence must be had at all hazards. If the men of prop- erty will not support us, they must fall ; we can support our- selves by the aid of that numerous and respectable class of the community, the men of no property.'*
The Nation had been regarded as rather an outspoken Jour
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
7}
nal, and not particularly well affected to the rulers of the country. But it was mildness, and gentleness, and loyalty itself compared to the new-comer in the field of journalism. The sudden uprising of a most portentous comet sweeping close to this planet of ours could hardly create more unfeigned astonishment in the minds of people in general than did the appearance of this wonderful newspaper, brimful of open and avowed sedition, crammed with incitements to insurrection, and with diligently prepared instructions for the destruction of her Majesty*s troops, barracks, stores, and magazines. Men rubbed their eyes, as they read its articles and correspondence, scarcely believing that any man in his sober senses would venture, in any part ot the Queen's dominions, to put such things in print. But there were the articles and the letters, nevertheless, on fair paper, and in good type, published in a duly registered news, paper, bearing the impressed stamp of the Customs — a sign to all men that the proprietor was bound in heavy sureties to the government against the publication of *' libel, blasphemy, or sedition" !- -couched, moreover. In a style of language posses- sing such grace and force, such delicacy of finish, and yet such marvellous strength, rich with so much of quiet hnmor, and bristling v/ith such rasping sarcasm and penetrating invective, that they v/ere read as an intellectual luxury even by men who regarded as utterly wild and wicked the sentiments they con- veyed. The first editorial utterance in this journal consisted of a letter from Mr. Mitchel to the Viceroy, in which that functionary was addressed as " The Right Hon. the Earl of Clar- endon, Englishman, calling himself her Majesty's Lord Lieuten- ant-General and General Governor of Ireland." The purport of the document was to declare, above board, the aims and objects of the United Irishynan, a journal with which, wrote Mr. Mit- chel, " your lordship and your lordship's masters and servants are to have more to do than may be agreeable either to you or me." That that purpose was to resume the struggle which had been waged by Tone and Emmet, or as Mr. Mitchel put it, *the Holy War, to sweep this island clear of the English nam«
78
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
and nation." " We differ," he said, " from the illustrious cork spirators of '98, not in principle — no, not an iota — but, as I shall presently show you, materially, as to the mode of action." And the difference was to consist in this— that whereas the rev- olutionary organization in '98 was a secret one, which was ruined by spies and informers, that of '48 was to be an open one, concerning which informers could tell nothing that its pro- moters would not willingly proclaim from the house-tops. *' If you desire," he wrote, '' to have a Castle detective employed about the United IrisJinian office in Trinity Street, I shall make no objection, provided the man be sober and honest. If Sir George Grey, or Sir William Somerville, would like to read our correspondence, we make him welcome for the present — only let the letters be forwarded without losing a post." Of the fact that he would speedily be called to account for his conduct in one of her Majesty's courts of law, the writer of this defiant language was perfectly cognizant; but he de- clared that the inevitable prosecution would be his opportu- nity of achieving a victory over the government. " For be it known to you," he wrote, " that in such a case you shall either publicly, boldly, notoriously pack a jury, or else see the ac- cused rebel walk a free man out of the court of Queen's Bench — which will be a victory only less than the rout of your lord- ship's red-coats in the open field." In case of his defeat^ other men would take up the cause, and maintain it, until at last England would have to fall back on her old system of courts- martial, and triangles, and free quarters, and Irishmen would find that there was no help for them '' in franchises, in votings, in spoutings, in shoutings, and toasts drank with enthusiasm — • nor in anything in this world, save the extensor and contractor muscles of their right arms, in these, and in the goodness of God above." The conclusion of this extraordinary address to her Majesty's representative was in the following terms : —
" In plain English, my Lord Ear] the deep and irreconcilable dis- affection of this people to all British laws, lawgivers, and law adminis- trators shall find a voice. That holy hatred of foreign dominion
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. 7^
which nerved our noble predecessors fifty years ago for the dungeon, the field, or the gallows (though of late years it has worn a vile 7iisi prius gown, and snivelled somewhat in courts of law and on spouting platforms) still lives, thank God ! and glows as fierce and as hot as ever. To educate that holy hatred, to make it know itself, and avow itself, and, at last, fill itself full, I hereby devote the columns of the United Irishman**
After this address to the Lord-Lieutenant, Mr. Mitchel took to addressing the farming classes, and it is really a study to ob- serve the exquisite precision, the clearness, and the force of the language he employed to convey his ideas to them. In his second letter he supposes the case of a farmer who has the en- tire produce of his land in his haggard, in the shape of six stacks of corn ; he shows that three of these ought, in all honor and conscience, to be sufficient for the landlord and the govern- ment to seize upon, leaving the other three to support the fam- ily of the man whose labor had produced them. But what are the facts? — the landlord and the government sweep all away, and the peasant and his family starve by the ditch-sides. As an illustration of this condition of things, he quotes from a soutiiern paper an account of an inquest held on the body of a man named Boland, and on the bodies of his two daughters, who, as the verdict declared, had *' died of cold and starvation," although occupants of a farm of over twenty acres in extent. On this melancholy case the comment of the editor of the United Irishman was as follows : —
" Now, what became of poor Boland's twenty acres of crop ? Part of it went to Gibraltar, to victual the garrison ; part to South Africa, to provision the robber army ; part went to Spain, to pay for the land- lord's wine ; part to London, to pay the interest of his honor's mort- gage to the Jews. The English ate some of it ; the Chinese had their share ; the Jews and the Gentiles divided it amongst them^and there was none for Boland."
As to the manner in which the condition and fate of poor Boland were to be avoided, abundant instructions were given in every number. The anti-tithe movement was quoted as a model to begin with ; but, of course, that was to be improved
3o SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
Upon. The idea that the people would not venture on such desperate movements, and had grown enamoured of the Peace policy and of '' Patience and Perseverance," Mr. Mitchel refused to entertain for a moment : —
" I will not believe that Irishmen are so degraded and utterly lost as this. The earth is awakening from sleep : a flash of electric fire is passing through the dumb millions. Democracy is girding himself once more like a strong man to run a race ; and slumbering nations are arising in their might, and ' shaking their invincible locks.' Oh ! my countrymen, look up, look up ! Arise from the death-dust where you have long been lying, and let this light visit your eyes also, and touch your souls! Let your ears drink in the blessed words, ' Liberty ! Fraternity ! Equality !' which are soon to ring from pole to pole ! Clear steel will, ere long, dawn upon you in your desolate darkness ; and the rolling thunder of the people's cannon will drive before it many a heavy cloud that has long hidden from you the face of heaven. Pray for that day ; and preserve life and health, that you may worthily meet it. Above all, let the man amongst you who has no gun sell his garment and buy one."
So Mr. Mitchel went on for some weeks, preaching in earnest and exciting language the necessity of preparation for an im- mediate grapple with '' the enemy." In the midst of his labors came the startling news of another revolution in France, Louis Phillippe in full flight, and the proclamation of a Republic. Yet a few days more, and the Berliners had risen and triumphed, only stopping short of chasing their king away because he conceded all they were pleased to require of him ; then came insurrection in Sicily, insurrection in Lombardy, insurrection in Milan, insurrection in Hungary — in short, the revolutionary movement became general throughout Europe, and thrones and principalities were tumbling and tottering in all directions. Loud was the complaint in the United Irishman because Dublin was remaining tranquil. It was evident, how* ever, that the people and their leaders were feeling the revolu- tionary impulse, and that matters were fast hurrying towards an outbreak. John Mitchel knew that a crisis was at hand, and devoted all his energies to making the best use of the short time that his newspaper had to live. His writing becamd
SPEECHES mOM THE DOCK. gl
fiercer, more condensed, and more powerful than ever. Lord Clarendon was now addressed as " Her Majesty's Executioner General and General Butcher of Ireland," and instructions for street warfare and all sorts of operations suitable for an insur- gent populace occupied a larger space than ever in his paper. But the government were now resolved to close with their bold and clever enemy. On Tuesday, the 2 1st of March, 1848, Messrs. O'Brien, Meagher, and Mitchel were arrested, the former for seditious speeches, uttered at a meeting of the Confederation, held on the 15th of that month, the latter for three seditious articles published in the United Irishman. All were released on bail, and when the trials came on, in the month of May, disagreements of the jury took place in the cases of O'Brien and Meagher. But before the trial of Mr. Mitchel could be proceeded with, he was arrested on a fresh charge of *' treason-felony " — a new crime, which had been manufactured by act of Parliament a few weeks before. He was, therefore, fast in the toils, and with but little cha*nce of escape. Little concern did this give the brave-hearted patriot, who only hoped and prayed that at last the time had come when his countrymen would launch out upon the resolute course of action which he had so earnestly recommended to them. From his cell in Newgate, on the i6th of May, he ad- dressed to thern one of his most exciting letters, of which the following are the concluding passages: —
" For me, I abide my fate joyfully ; for I know that, whatever betide me, my work is nearly done. Yes : Moral Force and ' Patience and Perseverance' are scattered to the wild winds of heaven. The music my countrymen now love best to hear is the rattle of arms, and the ring of the rifle. As I sit here and write in my lonely cell, I hear, just dying away, the measured tramp of ten thousand marching men — my gallant confederates, unarmed and silent, but with hearts like bended bow, waiting till the time comes. They have marched past my prison windows, to let me know there are ten thousand fighting men in Dublin — ' felons' in heart and soul.
" I thank God for it. The game is afoot at last. The liberty of Ireland may come sooner or later, by peaceful negotiation or bloody conflict — but it is sure ; and wherever between the poles I may chance to be, I will hear the crash of the downfall of the thrice-accursed British Empire.**
32 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
On Monday, May 22d, 1848, the trial of Mr. MItchel com* menced in the Commission Court, Green Street, before Baron Lefroy. He was eloquently defended by the veteran lawyer and uncompromising patriot, Robert Holmes, the brother-in- law of Robert Emmet. The mere law of the case was strong against the prisoner, but Mr. Holmes endeavored to raise the minds of the jury to the moral view of the case, upon which English juries have often acted regardless of the letter of the act of Parliament. With a jury of Irishmen impartially chosen it would have been a good defence, but the Castle had made sure of their men in this case. At five o'clock on the evening of the 26th, the case went to the jury, who, after an absence of two hours, returned into court with a verdict of " Guilty."
That verdict was a surprise to no one. On the day the jury was impanelled, the prisoner and every one else knew what it was to be. It was now his turn to have a word to say for him- self, and he spoke, as was his wont, in plain terms, answering thus the question that had been put to him : —
"I have to say that I have been found guilty by a packed jury — by the jury of a partisan sheriff — by a jury not impanelled even accord- ing to the law of England. I have been found guilty by a packed jury obtained by a juggle — a jury not impanelled by a sheriff, but a juggler.
This was touching the high sheriff on a tender place, and he immediately called out for the protection of the court. Where- upon Baron Lefroy interposed, and did gravely and deliberately, as is the manner of judges, declare that the imputation which had just been made on the character of that excellent ofificial, the high sheriff, was most " unwarranted and unfounded." He adduced, however, no reason in support of that declaration — ■ not a shadow of proof that the conduct of the aforesaid official was fair or honest — but proceeded to say that the jurv had found the prisoner guilty on evidence supplied by his own writings, some of which his lordship, with a proper expression of horror on his countenance, proceeded to read from his notes. In one of the prisoner's publications, he said, there appeared
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. |^
the following passage : " There is now growing on the soil of Ireland a wealth of grain, and roots, and cattle, far more than enough to sustain in life and comfort all the inhabitants of the island. That wealth must not leave us another year, not until every grain of it is fought for in every stage, from the tying of the sheaf to the loading of the ship ; a id the effort necessary to that simple act of self-preservation will at one and the same blow prostrate British dominion and landlordism together." In reference to this piece of writing, and many others of a similar nature, his lordship remarked that no effort had been made to show that the prisoner was not responsible for them ; it was only contended that they involved no moral guilt. But the law was to be vindicated ; and it now became his duty to pronounce the sentence of the court, which was — that the prisoner be trans- ported beyond the seas for a term of fourteen years. The severity of the sentence occasioned general surprise ; a general suspiration and low murmurs were heard through the court. Then there was stillness as of death, in the midst of which the tones of John Mitchel's voice rang out clearly as he said: —
** The law has now done its part, and the Queen of England, her crown and government in Ireland are now secure, pursuant to act of Parliament. I have done my part also. Three months ago I promised Lord Clarendon, and his government in this country, that I would provoke him into his courts of justice, as places of this kind are called, and that I would force him publicly and notoriously to pack a jury against me to convict me, or else that I would walk a free man out of this court, and provoke him to a contest in another field. My lord, I knew I was setting my life on that cast, but I knew that in either event the victory should be with me, and it is with me. Neither the jury, nor the judges, nor any other man in this court presumes to ima- gine that it is a criminal who stands in this dock."
Here there were murmurs of applause which caused the criers to call out for *' Silence !" and the police to look fiercely on the people around them. Mr. Mitchel resumed : —
" I have shown what the law is made of in Ireland. I have shown that her Majesty's government sustains itself in Ireland by packed juries, by partisan judges, by prejured sheriffs."
8^ SPEECHES FROM THE DOClt,
Baron Lefroy interposed. The court could not sit there ta hear the prisoner arraign the jurors, the sheriffs, the courts, and the tenure by which England holds this country. Again thtf prisoner spoke: —
" I have acted all through this business, from the first, under a strong
sense of duty. I do not repent anything that I have done, and I be- lieve that the course which I have opened is only commenced. The Roman who saw his hand burning to ashes before the tyrant, promised that three hundred should follow out his enterprise. Can I not promise for one, for two, for three, aye for hundreds ?"
As he uttered these words, Mr. Mitchel looked proudly into the faces of the friends near him, and around the court. His words and his glance were immediately responded to by an outburst of passionate voices from all parts of the building, ex- claiming— ''For me! for me! promise for me Mitchel! and for me !" And then came a clapping of hands, and a stamping of feet, that sounded loud and sharp as a discharge of mus- ketry, followed by a shout like a peal of thunder. John Martin, Thomas Francis Meagher, and Devin Reilly, with other gentle- men who stood close by the dock, reached over it to grasp the hand of the new-made felon. The aspect cf affairs looked alarming for a moment. The policemen laid violent hands on the persons near them, and pulled them about. Mr. Meagher and Mr. Doheny were taken into custody. Baron Lefroy, in a high state of excitement, cried out — "Officer! remove Mr. Mitchel !" and then, with his brother judges, retired hurriedly from the bench. The turnkeys who stood in the dock with Mr. Mitchel motioned to him that he was to move, he took a step of two down the little stairs under the flooring of the court- house, and his friends saw him no more.
He was led through the passages that communicated with the adjoining prison, and ushered into a dark and narrow cell, in which, however, his detention was of but a few hours' dura- tion. At four o'clock in the evening of that day — May 27th, 1848 — the prison-van, escorted by a large force of mounted police and dragoons, wilh drawn sabres, drove up to the prison
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCJt-.
85
gate. It was opened, and forth walked John Mitchel — m fet- ters. A heavy chain was attached to his right leg by a shackle at the ankle; the other end was to have been attached to the left leg, but as the jailors had not time to effect the connexion when the order came for the removal of the prisoner, they bade him take it in his hand, and it was in this plight, with a festoon of iron from his hand to his foot, he passed from the prison into the street — repeating mayhap to his own heart, the words uttered by Wolfe Tone in circumstances not dissimilar: — "■ For the cause which I have embraced, 1 feel prouder to wear these chains, than if I were decorated with the Star and Garter of Eng- land.*' Four or five police inspectors assisted him to step into the van, the door was closed after him, the word was given to the escort, and off went the cavalcade, at a thundering pace to the North-wall, where a government steamer, the " Shearwater," was lying with her steam up in readiness to receive him. He clambered the side-ladder of the steamer with some assistance ; on reaching the deck, the chains tripped him, and he fell for- ward. Scarcely was he on his feet again, when the paddles of the steamer were beating the water, and the vessel was moving from the shores of that ** Isle of Destiny," which he loved so well, and a sight of which has never since gladdened the eyes of John Mitchel.
The history of Mr. Mitchel's subsequent career, which has been an eventful one, does not rightly fall within the scope of this work. Suffice it to say that on June 1st, 1848, he was placed on board the " Scourge,'* man-of-war, which then sailed off for Bermuda. There Mr Mitchel was retained on board a penal ship, or "hulk," until April 22d, 1849, when he was transferred to the ship " Neptune," on her way from Eng- land to the Cape of Good Hope, whither she was taking a batch of British convicts. Those convicts the colonists at the Cape refused to receive into their country, and a long struggle ensued between them and the commander of the " Neptune," who wished to deposit his cargo according to instructions. The colonists were willing to make an exception in the case of Mr.
£5 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK,
Mitchel, but the naval officer could not think of making p.n^F compromise in the matter The end of the contest was that the vessel, with her cargo of convicts on board, sailed on Feb* ruary 19th, 1850, for Van Dieman's Land, where she arrived on April 7th, of the same year. In consideration of the hard- ships they had undergone by reason of their detention at the Cape, the government granted a conditional pardon to all the criminal convicts on their arrival at Hobart Town. It set them free on the condition that they should not return to the '' United Kingdom." Mr. Mitchel and the other political convicts were less mercifully treated. It was not until the year 1854 that a similar amount of freedom was given to these gentlemen. Some months previous to the arrival of Mr. Mitchel at Hobart Town, his friends, William Smith O'Brien, John Martin, Thomas F. Meagher, Kevin Izod O'Doherty, Terence Bellew MacManus, and Patrick O'Don- oghue, had reached the same place, there to serve out the vari- ous terms of transportation to which they had been sentenced. All except Mr. O'Brien, who had refused to enter into these arrangements, were at that time on parole — living, however, in separate and limited districts, and no two of them nearer than thirty or forty miles. On his landing from the " Neptune," Mr. Mitchel, in consideration of the delicate state of his health, was allowed to reside with Mr. Martin in the Bothwell district.
In the summer of the year 1853, a number of Irish gentle- men in America took measures to effect the release of on^^ or more of the Irish patriots from Van Dieman's Land, and Mr. P. J. Smyth sailed from New York on that patriotic mission. Arrived in Van Dieman's Land, the authorities, who seemed to have suspicion of his business, placed him under arrest, from which he was released after three days' detention. The friends soon managed to meet and come to an understanding as to to their plan of future operations, in conformity with which, Mr. Mitchel penned the following letter to the governor of the island • —
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK 8;
''BoTHWELL, 8th June, 1853.
"Sir, — I hereby resign the *comparatis^e liberty,* called ^ticket-of leave,' and revoke my parole of honor. I shall forthwith present my- self before the police magistrate of Bothwell, at his police office, show him this letter, and offer myself to be taken into custody. I am, sir,
your obedient servant, « t ,^ „
' * John Mitchel.
On the next day, June 9th, Mr, Mitchel and Mr. Smyth went to the police office, sav^^ the magistrate with his attending constables , handed him the letter, waited until he had read its contents, addressed to him a verbal statement to the same effect, and while he appeared to be paralyzed with astonishment, and uncertain what to do, touched their hats to him and left the office. Chase after them was vain, as they had mounted a a pair of fleet steeds after leaving the presence of his worship ; but it was not until six weeks afterwards that they were able to get shipping and leave the island. On the 12th of October, 1853, Mr. Mitchel was landed safe in California — to the intense delight of his countrymen throughout the American States, who celebrated the event by many joyful banquets.
Since then, Mr. Mitchel has occupied himself mainly with the press. He started the Citizen in New York, and subse- quently at Knoxville, Tennessee, the Southern Citizen. As editor of the Richmond Examiner during the American civil war, he ably supported the Southern cause, to which he gave a still stronger pledge of his attachment in the services and the lives of two of his brave sons. One of these gentlemen, Mr. William Mitchel, was killed at the battle of Gettysburg; the other, Captain John Mitchel, who had been placed in command of the important position of Fort Sumter, was shot on the parapet of that work, on July 19th, 1864. Shortly after the close of the war, Mr. John Mitchel was taken prisoner by the Federal government , but after undergoing an imprisonment of some months his release was ordered by President Johnson, acting on the solicitation of a large and influential deputation of Irishmen. In the latter part of the year 1867, turning to the press again, he started the Irish Citizen at New York, and
33 SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
in that journal, at the date of this writing, he continues to wield his trenchant pen on behalf of the Irish cause. To that cause, through all the lapse of time, and change of scene, and vicissitude of fortune which he has known, his heart has re- mained forever true. He has suffered much for it ; that he may live to see it triumphant is a prayer which finds an echo in the hearts of all his fellow-countrymen.
We have written of Mr. Mitchel only in reference to his po- litical career , but we can, without trenching in any degree on the domain of private life, supply some additional and authentic details which will be of interest to Irish readers. The distin- guished subject of our memoir was born at Camnish, near Dun- given, in the county of Derry, on the 3rd of November, 18 15. His father was the Rev. John Mitchel, at that time Presbyte- rian minister of Dungiven, and a good patriot, too, having been — as we learn from a statement casually made by Mr. Mitchel in Conciliation Hall — one of the United Irish;nen of 1798. The maiden name of his mother, who also came of a Presbyterian and county Derry family, was Mary Haslitt. At Newry, whither the Rev. Mr. Mitchel removed in the year 1823, and where he continued to reside till his death in 1843, young John Mitchel was sent to the school of Dr. David Henderson, from which he entered Trinity College, Dublin, about the year 1830 or 183 1. He did not reside within the college, but kept his terms by coming up from the country to attend the quarterly examinations. Though he did not distinguish himself in his college course, and had paid no more attention to the books prescribed for his studies than seemed necessary for passing his examinations respectably, John Mitchel was known to his in- timate friends to be a fine scholar and possessed of rare ability. While still a college student, he was bound apprentice to a so- licitor in Newry. Before the completion of his apprenticeship, in the year 1835, he married Jane Verner, a young lady of re- markable beauty, and only sixteen years of age at the time, a daughter of Captain James Verner. Not long after his marriage he entered into partnership in his profession, and in conformity
WILLIAM S. O'BRIEN. JOHN MITCHEL ^Olifi MARTIN.
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCR\ 89
with the arrangements agreed upon, went to reside at Banbridge, a town ten miles north of Newry, where he continued to prac- tice as a soUcitor until the death of Thomas Davis, in 1845. He had been an occasional contributor to the Nation almost from the date of its foundation , its editors recognized at once his splendid literary powers, and when the " Library of Ireland" was projected, pressed him to write one of the volumes, sug- gesting as his subject the Life of Hugh O'Neill. How ably he fulfilled the task is known to his countrymen, who rightly re- gard the volume as one of the most valuable of the whole series. When death removed the amiable and gifted Thomas Davis from the scene of his labors, Mr. Duffy invited John Mit- chel, asthe man most worthy of all in Ireland, to take his place. Mr. Mitchel regarded the invitation as the call of his country. He gave up his professional business in Banbridge, removed with his wife and family into Dublin, and there throwing himself heart and soul into the cause, fought it out boldly and impetu. ously until the day when bound in British chains, "the enemy" bore him off from Ireland.
JOHN MARTIN.
'hen the law had consummated its crime,and the doom of the felon was pronounced against John Mitchel, there stood in the group that pressed round him in the dock and echoed back the assurances which he flung as a last defiance at his foes, a thoughtful, deli- cate-looking, but resolute young Irishman, whose voice perhaps was not the loudest of those that spoke there, but whose heart throbbed responsively to his words, and for whom the final message of the unconquerable rebel possessed a meaning and significance that gave it the force of a special rev- elation. ** Promise for me, Mitchel," they cried out, but he had
90
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
no need to join in that request ; he had no need to intimate 'q Mr. Mitchel his willingness to follow out the enterprise whicn that fearless patriot had so boldly commenced. On the pre- vious day, sitting with the prisoner in his gloomy cell, John Mar- tin of Loughorne had decided on the course which he would take in the event of the supression of the United Irishma7t, and the transportation of its editor. He would start a successor to that journal, and take the place of his dear friend at the post of danger. It was a noble resolve, deliberately taken, and reso- lutely and faithfully was it carried out. None can read the history of that act of daring, and of the life of sacrifice by which it has been followed, and not agree with us that while the memories of Tone, of Emmet, and of Russell, are cherished in Ireland, the name of John Martin ought not be forgotten.
A few days subsequent to that memorable scene in Green Street court-house, John Martin quitted his comfortable home and the green slopes of Loughorne, separated himself from the friends he loved and the relatives-who idolized him, and entered on the stormy career of a national leader and journalist, at a time when to advocate the principles of nationality was to incur the ferocious hostility of a government whose thirst for vengeance was only whetted by the transportation of John Mitchel. He knew the danger he was braving ; he knew that the path on which he entered led down to sufferingr and ruin; he stood in the gap from which Mitchel had been hurled, with a full con- sciousness of the perils of the situation ; but inflinchingly and unhesitatingly as the martyr goes to his death, he threw him- self into the thinning ranks of the patriot leaders ; and when the event that he anticipated arrived, and the prison gates opened to receive him— then, too, in the midst of indignities and pri- vations— he displayed an imperturbable firmness and contempt for physical suffering, that showed how powerless persecution iS to subdue the spirit that self-conscious righteousness sus- tains.
His history previous to the conviction of his friend and school fellow, John Mitchel, if it includes no events of public import
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK. Oi
ance, possesses for us all the interest that attaches to the early life of a good and remarkable man. John Martin was born at Loughorne, in the lordship of Newry, county Down, on the 8tb of September, 1812 ; being the eldest son of Samuel Martin and Jane Harshaw, both natives of that neighborhood, and mem- bers of Presbyterian families settled there for many generations. About the time of his birth, his father purchased the 5v e-simple of the large farm which he had previously rented, and two of his uncles having made similar investments the family became proprietors of the townland on which they lived. Mr. Samuel Martin, who died in 183 1, divided his attention between the management of the linen business — a branch of industry in which the family had partly occupied themselves for some genera- tions— and the care of his land. His family consisted of nine j:hildren, of whom John Martin — the subject of our sketch — was the second born. The principles of his family, if they could not be said to possess the hue of nationality, were at least liberal and tolerant. In '98, the Martins of Loughorne, were stern opponents of the United Irishmen ; but in '82 his father and uncles were enrolled amongst the volunteers, and the Act of Union was opposed by them as a national calamity. It was from his good mother, however, a lady of refined taste and re- markable mental culture, that young John derived his inclina- tion for literary pursuits, and learned the maxims of justice and equality that swayed him through life. He speedily dis- carded the prejudices against Catholic Emancipation, which were not altogether unknown amongst his family, and which even found some favor with himself in the unreflecting days of boyhood. The natural tendency of his mind, however, was as true to the principles of justice as the needle to the pole, and the quiet rebuke that one day fell from his uncle — '' What ! John, would you not give your Catholic fellow-countrymen the same rights that you enjoy yourself?" having set him to think- ing for the first time on the subject, he soon formed opinions more in consonance with liberality and fair play.
When about twelve years of age, young Martin was sent to
92
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
the school of Dr. Henderson, at Newry, where he first became acquainted with John Mitchel, then attending the same semin- ary as a day-scholar. We next find John Martin an extern student of Trinity College, and a year after the death of his father he took out his degree in Arts. He was now twenty years old, and up to this time had suffered much from a con« stitutional affection, being subject from infancy to fits of spas- modic asthma. Strange to say, the disease which troubled him at frequently recurring intervals at home, seldom attacked him when away from Loughorne, and partly for the purpose of es- caping it, he took up his residence in Dublin in 1833, and de- voted himself to the study of Medicine. He never meditated earning his living by the profession, but he longed for the op- portunity of assuaging the sufferings of the afflicted poor. The air of the dissecting-room, however, was too much for Martin's delicate nervous organization ; the kindly encouragement of his fellow-students failed to induce him to breathe its fetid at- mosphere a second time, and he was forced to content himself with a theoretical knowledge of the profession. By diligent study, and with the assistance of lectures, anatomical plates, etc., he managed to conquer the difficulty ; and he had obtained nearly all the certificates necessary for taking out a medical de- gree, when he was recalled in 1835 to Loughorne, by the death of his uncle John, whose house and lands he inherited.
During the four years following he lived at Loughorne, dis- charging the duties of a resident country gentleman as they are seldom performed in Ireland, and endearing himself to all classes, but particularly to the poor, by his gentle disposition purity of mind, and benevolence of heart. In him the afflicted and the poverty-stricken ever found a sympathizing friend, and if none of the rewards which the ruling faction were ready to shower on the Irishman of his position who looked to the Castle for inspiration, fell to his share, he enjoyed a recom- pense more precious in the prayers and the blessings of the poor. The steps of his door were crowded with the patients who flocked to him for advice, and for whom he prescribed
SPEECHES FROM THE DOCK.
93
gratuitously — not without some reluctance, however, arising from distrust of his own abilities, and unwillingness to interfere with the practice of the regular profession. But the diffidence with which he regarded his own efforts was not shared by the people of the district. Their faith in his professional skill was unbounded, and perhaps the confidence which they felt in his power, contributed in some measure to the success that at« tended his practice.
In 1839 ^^- Martin sailed from Bristol to New York, and travelled thence to the extreme west of Upper Canada, to visit a relative who had settled there. On that occasion he was absent from Ireland nearly twelve months, and during his stay in America he made some tours in Canada and the Northern States, visiting the Falls, Toronto, Montreal, Philadelphia, New York, Washington, Pittsburg, and Cleveland. In 1841 he made a brief Continental tour, and visited the chief points of attraction along the Rhine. During this time Mr. Martin's political ideas became developed and expanded, and though like Smith O'Brien, he at first withheld his sympathies from the Repeal agitation, in a short time he became impressed with the justice of the national demand for independence. His re- tiring disposition kept him from appearing very prominently before the public