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[Illustration: Michael Doheny]




THE FELON'S TRACK

OR

HISTORY OF THE ATTEMPTED OUTBREAK

IN

IRELAND

Embracing the Leading Events in the Irish Struggle from
the year 1843 to the close of 1848


BY

MICHAEL DOHENY

Author of "The American Revolution."


    Hurrah for the mountain side!
      Hurrah for the bivouac!
    Hurrah for the heaving tide!
      If rocking the Felon's Track!


_ORIGINAL EDITION_

WITH D'ARCY M'GEE'S NARRATIVE OF 1848, A PREFACE,
SOME ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR'S CONTEMPORARIES,
AN INDEX, AND ILLUSTRATIONS


DUBLIN

M.H. GILL & SON, LTD.

1920



_Printed and Bound in Ireland by
M.H. Gill & Son, Ltd.
50 Upper O'Connell Street
Dublin_


_First Edition_           1914
_Second Impression_       1916
_Third Impression_        1918
_Fourth Impression_       1920




[Illustration: General Shields]


_Dedication._

TO

GENERAL JAMES SHIELDS

UNITED STATES SENATOR, ETC.


DEAR SIR,--

In dedicating to you this narrative, I have been influenced by one
consideration only. I have no title to your friendship. I cannot claim
the most remote affinity with your career in arms. There is nothing
connected with this sad fragment of history, either in fact or hope, to
suggest any association with your name or achievements. But as my main
object is to show that Ireland's failure was not owing to native
recreancy or cowardice, I feel satisfied that of all living men, your
position and character will best sustain the sole aim of my present
labour and ambition.

In past history, Ireland holds a high place; but her laurels were won on
foreign fields, and the jealous literary ambition which raised adequate
monuments to these stormy times denied to her swords the distinction
they vindicated for themselves in the hour of combat. The most
brilliant, unscrupulous and daring historian of France degraded the
niggard praise he accorded them by making it the medium of a false and
contemptible sneer. "The Irish soldier," says Voltaire, "fights bravely
everywhere but in his own country."

Without pausing here to vindicate that country from such ungrateful
slander, it is enough to say that you were not placed in the same
unhappy position as the illustrious exiles from the last Irish
army--soldiers of fortune in the service of a foreign prince. You were a
citizen of this free Republic, and a volunteer in its ranks; it was
_your_ country, and you and your compatriots who followed the same
standard did no dishonour to those who were bravest among the brave on
the best debated fields in Europe.

In the wreck of every hope, all who yet cherish the ambition of
realising for Ireland an independent destiny, point to your career as an
encouraging augury, if not a complete justification for not despairing
of their country. It is because I am among those that I have claimed the
honour of inscribing your name on the first page of this, my latest
labour in her cause.

I remain, dear Sir,

Very respectfully and sincerely yours,

MICHAEL DOHENY.

_New York, Sept. 20, 1849._




PREFACE


The Irish Confederation still awaits its historian. Three of its leaders
have left narratives of its brief and momentous career, but, of the
three, Doheny alone participated in the Insurrection that dug the
political grave of Young Ireland. In "The Felon's Track," written hot on
his escape from the stricken land, he tells the story vividly and
passionately. It has morals deducible for all manner of Irishmen, and
one for those English statesmen who comfort themselves with the illusion
that Irish Nationalism, like Jacobitism, is a platonic sentiment. The
man who, roused from his bed at midnight by tapping fingers on his
window and a voice whispering that insurrection was afoot, rose and rode
away in the darkness to join himself to its desperate fortunes was no
young man ardent for adventure. Michael Doheny, when he left his home
and his career to engage in the fatal enterprise, was a sober
middle-aged barrister, a man of weight and fortune into which he had
built himself by the hard toil of twenty years. His social anchorages
were deep-cast--and no mere sentiment provokes such a man to throw aside
the hard-won harvest of his life and risk the rebel's or the felon's
fate.

In the leadership of the Young Ireland party Michael Doheny was, save
Smith O'Brien, the oldest man and, like O'Brien, his counsels while
courageous were always restrained. There was little other likeness
between the men. Doheny sprang from the poorest class of the Irish
farmers. At Brookfield, near Fethard in Tipperary, where he was born in
May, 1805, he followed the plough on his father's little holding,
earning literally his bread in the sweat of his brow, and educating
himself how he could, for his people were too poor to pay for his
schooling. His indomitable perseverance and his thirst for knowledge
overcame the formidable obstacles of fortune, and at thirty years of age
the poor peasant boy had become a barrister of reputation for ability
and fearlessness. He returned to his native county to become the most
popular and trusted of its "counsellors"--the advocate who did not fear
to face and beard Influence and Ascendancy in its courts. The city of
Cashel had had much of its property alienated and long enjoyed by local
magnates whom none were willing to offend. Doheny fought and defeated
them and regained the purloined estates for the people. He was made
Legal Adviser to the Borough of Cashel and when later the pestilence
fell upon the place, and even the men employed to carry the sick to
hospital lost courage and fled, Doheny showed the same manly example of
citizenship and duty which years later forced him "on the Felon's path,"
by carrying in his strong arms to shelter and relief the deserted
victims of the plague. Davis who marked his character, and knew that on
such men a free and self-respecting Ireland must be rebuilt induced him
to enter the Repeal movement of 1842, and in its councils he swayed the
influence of a strong, sincere, able and incorruptible man until the
Association fell into the toils of the English Whigs. Then he quitted
it and formally adhered to the Young Irelanders. To them he was
invaluable for his eloquence--less brilliant and polished than that of
Meagher, but more effective in its appeal to the heart of the peasantry
whom Doheny knew better than any of his colleagues. On a platform he
triumphed, but with the pen he was often ineffective. His admiration and
reverence for Davis misled him into laboriously imitating Davis's style,
and the result was what it must always be when one man attempts to
express his ideas not in his own way but as he thinks a greater man
would express them. Much that would have been impressive and lucid as
Doheny becomes unimpressive and clouded as Doheny-Davis. In a few of his
verses and "The Felon's Track" Doheny the writer will survive. As a man
who gave up all to help his country and served her like a gallant son,
his memory must be honoured while Ireland has virtue.

The Irish Confederation, on whose council Doheny sat, was noble in
conception, true in policy and able and honest in its membership. Never
in the leadership of the modern Nationalist movement has there been the
peer in genius and character of the men who founded and inspired that
brilliant and short-lived organisation. In its career it went nearer to
bridging the differences of class and creed in Ireland than any previous
organisation since the Volunteers at Dungannon proclaimed themselves
Irishmen and hailed their oppressed Catholic countrymen fellow-citizens.
But the Confederation was not yet six months old when it was called on
to face a situation in Ireland as terrible as that which confronted
Irishmen when Eoghan Ruadh O'Neill lay dead and Cromwell marched at the
head of his iron legions to the conquest of a distracted country. The
failure of the potato-crop which menaced Ireland with serious loss at
the birth of the Confederation in January, 1847, threatened the
destruction of the people by the middle of 1847. The Relief measures
provided by the English Whig Government set up a system under which
places, large and small, were provided for some thousands of persons of
political influence. Their tenure of employment depending upon the
ministry, they used that influence to the end of sustaining the
ministry, while the unfortunate small farmers who had hitherto kept on
the right side of the line between poverty and pauperism were forced to
the wrong side. Of all the measures passed under the guise of relieving
"the famine-stricken Irish" the most infamous was that measure which
provided that no farmer should be accorded relief if, the produce of his
farm having gone to discharge his rents, rates and taxes, he hungered
and yet strove to hold his farm. Before he was permitted to receive any
help from the public funds he was required to surrender his land and
become a pauper. Thus under pretext of relieving famine, pauperism was
propagated.

Be it remembered that all this time there was no _famine_ in Ireland.
The potato-crop, indeed, had failed as it had failed in Great Britain,
France, Germany and other countries at the same period, but the corn
crop was fat and abundant. Each year of the so-called famine, food to
maintain double the whole population was raised from the Irish soil. It
was exported to England to feed the English people. Nobody starved in
Germany. The German governments ordered the ports to be closed to the
export of food until the danger had passed. The Irish Confederation
demanded the same measure. "Close the Irish ports," it called to the
British Government, "and no man can die of hunger in Ireland." The
British Government, instead, flung the ports wide open. The great
principle of Free Trade required that the Irish should export their food
freely. Relief ships from foreign countries laden with the food
subscribed by charitable people to succour the starving Irish met
occasionally ships sailing out of the Irish ports laden with food reaped
by the starving Irish. On the quays of Galway the unhappy people wailed
as they saw their harvests borne away from them, and were admonished by
the butt-ends of British muskets, the British Government meantime
passing Relief measures which provided employment for hordes of English
officials and Irish understrappers, and pauper-relief for those who
surrendered their manhood and their property--the cost of this relief,
like the cost of the passage of the Act of Union, being debited to
Ireland--a generous loan in fact.

No doubt a union of the whole Irish people would have rendered all this
impossible. The Irish Confederation worked hard to bring about this
essential union. Directly and indirectly it achieved for a moment a
semblance of national unity. The Irish Council, composed largely of the
resident landlords--who mostly endeavoured to alleviate the
distress--came into being, reasoned with the Government and, when the
Government ignored reason, fell to pieces. George Henry Moore, a young
sporting landlord and a Tory (afterwards, as a result, to become a
Nationalist leader), conceived the design of getting all the Irish
members of the British Parliament to act together against the existing
British Government or any British Government which did not deal honestly
and effectively with the crisis. With the Marquis of Sligo, a nobleman
who did his duty to his tenantry during the Famine, Moore travelled
around Ireland and secured between sixty and seventy Irish members of
Parliament and forty-five Irish peers to subscribe to his independence
programme. They met in Dublin, resolved boldly, departed for London
cheered by the nation, and crumbled there at the Premier's frown. When
the Tory Lord George Bentinck proposed that instead of pauperising the
Irish by a vote of four or five millions for relief there should be a
vote of sixteen millions for railway construction, the Premier, Lord
John Russell, threatened the Irish members with his displeasure if they
supported Bentinck, and the majority of them thereupon opposed the
proposal of reproductive work for the people in lieu of pauper relief.

It was in these circumstances Mitchel put forward his policy in the
Confederation of arming the people and bidding them hold their harvests.
The Confederation rejected the policy, still hoping to effect a national
union. Through such a union alone, it declared, could national
independence be achieved. Doheny strongly opposed Mitchel on this
ground. Mitchel's reply was simple. He had been and was ready to follow
the aristocrats of Ireland if they would lead. They would not lead, and
meanwhile the people perished. Therefore he would urge the people to
save themselves. The policy of the Confederation in normal times would
have been nationally sound. The circumstances had become abnormal, and
Mitchel's policy was suited to the abnormal circumstances. His
conviction that the British Government was deliberately using the
potato-crop failure for the purpose of reducing the Irish
population--which then was equal to more than half the population of
England and a menace to that country, as one of its statesmen
incautiously admitted--was a conviction not shared by the bulk of his
colleagues. They shrank from it as men will shrink from a conclusion
that horrifies the human nature in them. Mitchel went outside the
Confederation to preach his policy, and he might have preached it
without result had not the French Revolution turned men's minds to the
contemplation of arms and armed opinion. The arrest, indictment and
conviction of Mitchel, Doheny has described graphically. The reasons
that prevailed against attempting Mitchel's rescue, Doheny cogently
states. There is no reason to doubt that an attempt to rescue Mitchel
would have been a failure in its object. But there are occasions when it
is wiser to attempt the impossible than to acquiesce. The unchallenged
removal of Mitchel in chains from Ireland had a moral effect on the
country that was worth 20,000 additional troops to the Government.

Thereafter, the Confederation vacillated in its policy and finally
permitted itself, in its desire for Unity as the potent weapon, to be
extinguished in favour of an Irish League which was to combine
O'Connellites and Young Irelanders. The Irish League met once, and died.
The Confederation had been hoodwinked. Doheny who opposed the
amalgamation, retired to Cashel, severing his connection with the former
Confederation. He was, therefore, free in honour to have taken no part
in the insurrection, since it was begun by men from whom he had
withdrawn. But when the voice in the night whispered through his window
that his former colleagues had crossed the Rubicon, Doheny, like the man
he was, rose and rode forth to make the fatal passage and stand or fall
with them.

From this point, Doheny's narrative may be supplemented and corrected by
information that was not at the time he wrote available to him. Meagher,
Leyne, M'Gee, O'Mahony and MacManus, have left in newspaper articles and
in MS. accounts of what happened in the light of which Doheny's
narrative must be read.

On Thursday, July 20th, 1848, the British Government issued a
proclamation ordering the people of Ireland to surrender their arms.
Thomas Francis Meagher, who was at the time in Waterford, issued a
counter-proclamation to the people of that city bidding them to hold
them fast. He then hurried to Dublin to consult with his colleagues and
he arrived in the metropolis the next day. There had been a strong
division of opinion in the Confederate clubs as to how the Government
proclamation should be treated, the general feeling of the rank-and-file
inclining to open resistance. The leaders counselled a waiting policy
until the harvest had been gathered, the arms to be concealed meanwhile.
This counsel prevailed against the remonstrance of one of the Dublin
leaders that if heaven rained down loaded rifles they would wait for
angels to pull the triggers. If the insurrection could have been
postponed until the harvest the counsel would have been sound. The
Young Ireland leaders forgot, however, that the Government had one
powerful weapon in reserve with which it might force their hands--the
Suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. On July 21st Meagher and his
comrades and the Dublin leaders discussed and arranged the outline of a
contingent insurrectionary plan for the autumn. O'Brien left for Wexford
and O'Gorman for Limerick to organise those counties. The next morning
the news reached those who remained in Dublin that the Habeas Corpus Act
had been suspended, and that a warrant was on its way to Ireland for the
arrest of Smith O'Brien. The choice left was to fight, to become
fugitives, or to surrender. Dillon, M'Gee, Reilly, P.J. Smyth and
Meagher decided hurriedly on the first course. They rejected the
proposal to begin the fight in Dublin, as they believed it would be
hopeless with the resources at their disposal to contend against a
disciplined garrison of 11,000 men in a city a large proportion of whose
population was hostile. Kilkenny was regarded as a stronghold of the
Confederation, and Dillon suggested it should be the objective. Dillon
and Meagher quitted Dublin to seek O'Brien; Reilly and Smyth started for
Tipperary, and M'Gee for Scotland where it was hoped the Glasgow Irish
could be induced to rise, seize some of the Clyde steamers and effect a
landing in Sligo or Mayo which might rouse Connacht and western Ulster
to the assistance of the South.

Dillon and Meagher left Dublin on the night of the 22nd of July by the
mailcoach for Enniscorthy. Neither had the slightest hope of a
successful insurrection, but they felt that honour and its future
survival demanded that a nation must reply to the command of a foreign
power to gag its mouth and throw down its arms by drawing the sword.
They found Smith O'Brien at Enniscorthy and he joined in their views.
Father Parle and the people of Enniscorthy undertook to defend O'Brien
by force of arms if any attempt were made to arrest him there, and
agreed that if he went into Kilkenny and Tipperary and succeeded in
arousing those counties Wexford would take up arms. O'Brien and his
colleagues moved towards Kilkenny through Graiguenamanagh where the
people received them with enthusiasm, and they arrived in what they
hoped to make again the provisional capital of Ireland in the evening of
the 23rd of July.

[Illustration: Terence Bellew MacManus]

The considerations in favour of beginning the insurrection in Kilkenny
were sound. It was the one Irish city of importance inaccessible to
British naval power, it offered a convenient rallying-centre for the
counties of Tipperary, Waterford, and Wexford upon which the Young
Ireland leaders relied, the country around it was well-adapted for
defensive fighting against superior forces, and it had an historic
appeal to the Irish imagination. The arrival of the insurgent leaders
was hailed with joy by the people, and there was no doubt of the
readiness of the populace to fight. But an examination of the military
resources of the place showed that the British forces consisted of 1,000
troops in a strongly-defended position, while amongst the Irish there
were but 200 armed men and the gunsmiths' shops in the city could not
arm a hundred more. The decision not to strike the first blow at
Kilkenny in the circumstances was inevitable. It was agreed to make
for Carrick-on-Suir, another Young Ireland town, seize the place and
march at the head of the elated Tipperarymen on Kilkenny. On Monday,
July 24th, O'Brien, Meagher and Dillon left for Carrick-on-Suir, and on
the way they were received with enthusiasm at Callan, where the 8th
Hussars--mainly composed of Irishmen--manifested sympathy with the
insurrectionary propaganda. Near Carrick they were joined by John
O'Mahony, a landed proprietor of the neighbourhood, afterwards to become
famous as the founder of Fenianism. By descent, education and character
a leader of men, O'Mahony had thousands of followers among the people
ready to rally to any venture for Ireland at his call. "His square,
broad frame," wrote Meagher, "his frank, gay, fearless look; the warm
forcible headlong earnestness of his manner; the quickness and
elasticity of his movements; the rapid glances of his clear full eye;
the proud bearing of his head; everything about him struck us with a
brilliant and exciting effect, as he threw himself from his saddle and,
tossing the bridle on his arm, hastened to meet and welcome us. At a
glance we recognised in him a true leader for the generous, passionate,
intrepid peasantry of the South." O'Mahony strongly advised them to
begin the insurrection that night in Carrick, and he left to collect the
peasantry. O'Brien and his comrades proceeded to the town where the
people received them with frenzied enthusiasm, calling out to be led
immediately to the fray. "A torrent of human beings rushing through
lanes and narrow streets"--such is Meagher's description of the
scene--"surging and boiling against the white basements ... wild,
half-stifled, passionate, frantic prayers of hope ... curses on the red
flag: scornful delirious defiances of death.... It was the Revolution if
we had accepted it." But it was not accepted. The local leaders were
unworthy of the people. They persuaded O'Brien to go elsewhere. It was a
cardinal and egregious mistake which he regretted within twenty-four
hours. Had he brushed the quavering local leaders aside and given the
word to the imploring people of Carrick the insurrection of 1848 would
have become respectable. O'Mahony's followers to the number of 12,000
were on the march to Carrick when the news reached them of O'Brien's
departure. Disheartened they broke up and returned to their homes.

Doheny's account of what happened after the fatal retreat from Carrick
needs to be amplified in connection with the final error of O'Brien's
leadership. At the Council of War on the 28th of July O'Brien rejected
the proposal to seize for the use of his followers all things needful,
paying for them with drafts on the future Irish Government, and he
declined the other practical proposal to offer farms rent-free to all
who fought for Ireland. Neither would he assent to the suggestion that
he and the other leaders should go into hiding until the harvest was
reaped. Willing to fight and ready to die, he would not consent to
conduct a revolution on revolutionary lines. The departure of Doheny and
others--save Devin Reilly, who urged the abandonment of the insurrection
as hopeless--was in pursuance of their plan to await the gathering of
the harvest.

O'Brien's attitude at the Council of War destroyed the last hope of the
insurrection. He expected to get men to fight under his standard while
he essayed no adequate provision for their support in the field, and
interdicted them from interference with private property to supply them
with the necessaries of the campaign. No nobler and braver man has
appeared in modern Irish history than William Smith O'Brien, but at the
head of an insurrectionary movement he was incompetent. There was none
of his lieutenants who, in his position, could not have made the
insurrection to some extent formidable.

That it could have been successful, few will believe. Mitchel and
Meagher agreed that 1848 would not have been the year of Liberation. But
the former held very justly that the insurrection if it grew to
respectable dimensions might have forced terms from England. The
attitude of France at the time was a factor in the situation. The
pro-Irish minister, Ledru-Rollin, had been checked by the pro-English
minister, Lamartine, but General Cavaignac and Louis Napoleon were, for
divergent reasons, inclined to help Ireland against England, and
assurances had been given that if an Irish insurrection gained
considerable initial successes the French Government would exert
influence on England. A successful blow at Carrick and a subsequent
seizure of Kilkenny and proclamation of Irish independence from that
city was possible, and if realised would have probably led to the
counties of Waterford and Tipperary rising en masse. How far the
insurrection would have spread outside those counties is problematical,
but in the year 1848 they were counties which presented difficulties to
regular troops and advantages to insurgent forces. According to M'Gee,
Sligo was willing to rise if the South made a good beginning and the
Bishop of Derry, Dr. Maginn, sent a message to Gavan Duty that he was
willing to join in the insurrection at the head of his priests once the
harvest was reaped. Doheny's criticism of the action of some of the
Tipperary priests is justified. But of others it is to be remembered
that they were not in sympathy with Young Ireland, that they were not
bound to support an insurrection undertaken irrespective of them, and
that they could not be expected to take the initiative. There were at
least two priests in Tipperary prepared to lead their parishioners to
the insurgent standard if O'Brien struck at any point a successful blow.
O'Brien's indecision was the real cause why the insurrection died in its
birth.

If courage and devotion could have saved Ireland in 1848, O'Brien and
his comrades would have saved the land. No braver gentlemen could any
nation produce. They asked their countrymen to take no risks they did
not take themselves in the forefront. But courage and devotion alone can
never make an insurrection into a revolution. 1848 was a failure--in one
sense--because there was no second Mitchel in Ireland when the first
Mitchel was hurried off on a British gunboat.

But 1848 was not a failure in the true sense of failure. For years the
Irish people had submitted to any and every imposition of foreign
tyranny, taught to believe that forcible resistance to outrage on their
national liberties was in itself immoral. The sneer of the satirist
that the Irish were:--

    "A nation of abortive men
    Who shoot the tongue and wield the pen,"

seemed to have grown a reality. Young Ireland evoked the fighting
tradition of the nation once again. Without 1848 the spirit that freed
the Irish Catholic from being tributary to another Church and regained
the land for the farmers would have slept for a century--perhaps for
ever.

Driven from his country, Doheny with the companion of his fugitive
wanderings, James Stephens, and the chivalrous O'Mahony, founded the
Fenian brotherhood in the United States. Once more before his sudden
death in April, 1862, he saw Ireland--on the occasion of the MacManus
Funeral.

Let me, said a wise man, always be surrounded by men of sanguine
temperament. Defeat and exile could not dim the faith of Doheny in his
country. The fugitive who had wrecked his fortunes in Ireland's cause
and witnessed a failure which English statesmen believed ended for ever
the dream of Irish independent nationhood, set his foot in exile only to
begin anew to plan Ireland Independent. So long as the sanguine heart
that carried Michael Doheny undaunted along the Felon's Track beats in
the breast of his country the Irish Nation will be indestructible.

ARTHUR GRIFFITH.




_This Edition is reprinted from the Original Edition published in New
York by W.H. Holbrooke, Fulton Street, in October, 1849. The portraits
of the Young Ireland leaders are mainly from the daguerreotypes by
Professor Gluckmann, and the illustrations of Tipperary in 1848 are
reproduced from the "Illustrated London News" of that year._




CONTENTS


CHAPTER I.                                                      Page
RETROSPECT.--COMMENCEMENT OF THE REPEAL STRUGGLE--EARLY DAYS OF
THE ASSOCIATION                                                   1

CHAPTER II.
THOMAS DAVIS, HIS EARLY LABOURS.--THE "NATION" NEWSPAPER--
PROGRESS OF THE ASSOCIATION.--CLONTARF MEETING.--THE STATE
TRIALS.--THE YOUNG IRELAND PARTY.--SMITH O'BRIEN.--FEDERALISM.
--THE BEQUESTS ACT                                               16

CHAPTER III.
FURTHER EMBARRASSMENT CAUSED BY THE RESCRIPT.--DIFFERENCES
BETWEEN MR. O'CONNELL AND THE PRIMATE.--FINANCIAL REFORMS IN
THE COMMITTEE OF THE ASSOCIATION, AND CONSEQUENT DISSENSION.--
'82 CLUB.--THE COLLEGES BILL.--DIFFERENCES AND CALUMNIES
CONSEQUENT UPON IT.--QUARREL WITH MR. DAVIS.--THE GREAT LEVEE
AT THE ROTUNDA.--DECLINE OF THE AGITATION.--CLOSING LABOURS
AND DEATH OF THOMAS DAVIS                                        42

CHAPTER IV.
IMPRISONMENT OF O'BRIEN FOR CONTEMPT OF THE BRITISH COMMONS.--
CONDUCT OF THE ASSOCIATION.--DEPUTATION FROM THE '82 CLUB.--
MR. O'CONNELL RETURNS TO IRELAND.--DISCUSSIONS IN THE COMMITTEE  73

CHAPTER V
DEFEAT OF PEEL.--ACCESSION OF THE WHIGS.--MR. O'CONNELL'S
COURSE.--DEBATES IN CONCILIATION HALL.--MR. O'CONNELL
DENOUNCES THE YOUNG IRELAND PARTY.--CONTINUED DEBATES.--
QUESTIONS AT ISSUE.--PHYSICAL FORCE.--THE SECESSION.--WHIG
ALLIANCE.--DUBLIN REMONSTRANCE.--FORMATION OF THE
CONFEDERATION, ITS CAREER.--MR. O'CONNELL'S DEATH.--CLOSE OF
THE YEAR 1847.                                                   98

CHAPTER VI
THE SPLIT WITH MR. MITCHEL.--HIS TRIAL, CONVICTION, SENTENCE,
AND SPEECH.--THE "FELON" AND "TRIBUNE" ESTABLISHED.--ARREST OF
MESSRS. MARTIN, O'DOHERTY, WILLIAMS, AND DUFFY.--CONVICTION OF
MR. MARTIN.--HIS SPEECH.--CONVICTION, SENTENCE AND SPEECH OF
MR. O'DOHERTY.--DISSOLUTION OF THE CONFEDERATION.--THE LEAGUE   118

CHAPTER VII.
THE OUTBREAK.--MR. O'BRIEN IN CARRICK.--CASHEL.--KILLENAULE,
MULLINAHONE, BALLINGARRY.--AFFAIR AT KILLENAULE.--DEFEAT
OF MR. O'BRIEN'S PARTY AT THE COMMONS.--PERSONAL ADVENTURES OF
THE WRITER AND HIS COMRADE, UP TO THE DATE OF MR. O'BRIEN'S
ARREST                                                          159

CHAPTER VIII.
ARREST OF MR. O'BRIEN, OF MESSRS. MEAGHER AND O'DONOHOE.--
ARREST OF TERENCE BELLEW M'MANUS.--CLONMEL SPECIAL
COMMISSION.--TRIAL, CONVICTION, SPEECHES AND SENTENCE OF THE
REBELS.--WRIT OF ERROR.--COMMUTATION OF SENTENCE.--
TRANSPORTATION OF THE HEROES                                    187

CHAPTER IX.
CONTINUATION OF PERSONAL WANDERINGS.--DUNGARVAN.--THE
COMERAGHS.--MOUNT MELLERAY.--KILWORTH.--CROSS.--
DUNMANWAY.--GOUGANE BARRA.--BANTRY BAY.--THE PRIEST'S
LEAP.--KENMARE.--THE REEKS.--KILLARNEY.--TEMPLENOE.--
DEPARTURE.--CORK.--BRISTOL.--LONDON.--PARIS                     201

CONCLUSION                                                      283

APPENDICES                                                      289

LIST OF CONTEMPORARIES                                          302

INDEX                                                           317




ILLUSTRATIONS
                                                        Facing page

MICHAEL DOHENY                                       _frontispiece_

GENERAL JAMES SHIELDS                                  _dedication_

TERENCE BELLEW MACMANUS                                         xvi

WILLIAM SMITH O'BRIEN                                         xxxii

THOMAS DAVIS                                                     16

JOHN BLAKE DILLON                                                32

CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY                                              48

RICHARD O'GORMAN, JUNIOR                                         64

PATRICK O'DONOHOE                                                64

THOMAS DEVIN REILLY                                              80

JOHN MITCHEL                                                     96

ROBERT HOLMES                                                   112

THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER                                          128

JOHN MARTIN                                                     128

KEVIN IZOD O'DOHERTY                                            144

BALLINGARRY, SLIEVENAMON IN THE DISTANCE (1848)                 160

A STREET IN BALLINGARRY (1848)                                  176

THE WIDOW MCCORMACK'S HOUSE, NEAR BALLINGARRY. (1848)           192

THE KNOCKMELDOWN MOUNTAINS FROM ARDFINAN (1848)                 208

DUNMANWAY PROM THE BRIDGE ON THE CORK ROAD (1848)               224

THURLES ON MARKET DAY (August, 1848)                            240

JOHN O'MAHONY                                                   256

JAMES STEPHENS                                                  256

AHENY HILL, SHOWING THE CONSTABULARY POLICE BARRACK DESTROYED
  BY THE INSURGENTS (1848)                                      272

JOHN SAVAGE                                                     288

LOUIS NAPOLEON                                                  308

LEDRU-ROLLIN, GENERAL CAVAIGNAC, LAMARTINE (1848)               316




AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION


There are few facts detailed in the following pages that need
explanation here. If my motive in writing them were personal
gratification, or simply a desire to preserve a memorial of scenes in
which I took an anxious part, I might labour to make the narration more
interesting to my readers, without any care for future consequences.

But through every disaster I preserved unbroken faith in the purpose and
courage of my country. I believed, and still believe that her true heart
is faithful to liberty and hopeful for the future; and this conviction
involved me in a struggle with the apparently opposite tendency of the
facts I was bound to narrate. Had I to write for a new generation, upon
whom these facts could have made no false impressions, my task would be
easy. I am persuaded that a simple statement of all that occurred would
satisfy any candid mind that no disgrace attached to Ireland in her
recent discomfiture. But I must needs confess that it is a task of
extreme difficulty to reconcile her fall with the pre-conceived notions
or present prejudices of those who read her story through the false
medium of the press; nor do I hope for more than partial success from
the details I have been able to give of the circumstances of which she
was the victim and the dupe.

It is impossible fully to appreciate the pernicious effect of Mr.
O'Connell's teaching, without reviewing in minute detail the leading
circumstances of his wonderful career and the matchless and countless
resources with which he upheld his fatal system. In dealing with this
part of my subject my difficulties have been multiplied and enhanced by
a strong desire to do him no injustice, and to leave untouched by doubt
or suspicion a character so intertwined with my country's love. But it
became necessary to refer to those acts which chiefly tended to increase
the obstacles which beset our endeavours. In doing this, whether here or
elsewhere in my narrative, if I use phrases which would seem to imply
harshness to his memory, I wish them to be understood as applied in
reference to the attempt to effect the deliverance of Ireland by force
of arms, and establishing her entire and perfect independence. I have
avoided this question, assuming that I wrote only for those who agreed
with me in the belief that such is her true destiny, and the end for
which her children ought to strive.

In this view of her recent struggle, there can be no doubt of the
tendency of Mr. O'Connell's policy to demoralise, disgrace, enfeeble and
corrupt the Irish people, and it is in that sense, and that only, I have
always spoken of him.

Another subject, of perhaps greater delicacy and difficulty, was the
part taken by the Catholic clergy. On my arrival in America, I found a
fierce contest agitating, dividing and enfeebling the Irish-American
population. It was asserted on one side that the entire failure was
attributable to the Catholic priests, and that in opposing the
liberation of Ireland they acted in accordance with some recognised
radical principle of the Church.

I could not assent to either of these propositions. I knew several
priests who were fully prepared to take their share in an armed
conflict; in fact, the vast majority of those I met at the time. And
again, with respect to such as did interfere, and opposed the efforts of
the people's chiefs, I do not believe that one man was influenced by
considerations connected with, or emanating from the Church, in its
corporate capacity. Of Mr. O'Connell's policy, already referred to,
none were blinder victims than some of the priests. It had made such an
impression on them that they scarcely could believe anything was real,
or any sentiment was true; and when they admitted its truth it was only
to prove its madness. Of other and more questionable motives I shall say
nothing here.

But while I feel the injustice of the sweeping charge made against the
whole body of the priesthood, I would be unfaithful to my purpose and my
convictions if I concealed the acts and language of those among them,
who interposed and unhappily exercised baneful influence on the abortive
attempt of their unfortunate country. I shall only say further that what
relates to them is the only part of my narrative which gave me shame to
tell.

I have only a word to add in reference to certain proceedings in the
Committee of the Association now made public for the first time. It may
be said, and, I doubt not, will be said, that these were matters which
we were morally pledged to keep secret. I readily admit that, although
there was no obligation whatever, either expressed or implied, as to any
subject discussed in committee any more than in the public hall, still,
I should not disclose any part of its proceedings if I were not
compelled by an imperative necessity. Upon one subject, and that the
most important to the character of my illustrious friend, no other proof
was available. And the tacit understanding, in virtue of which I would
be disposed to admit any obligation of secrecy, does not and could not
extend beyond such matters as would, if divulged, endanger the safety or
impair the efficiency of the Association. What I tell of the proceedings
of the Committee, even if it yet existed, would scarcely have any such
effect. But every one knows it not only does not exist, but that is has
left no memory which it would be possible to degrade. Its physical
existence long survived the last spark of moral vitality, and its
efficiency now consists in this, if it warn all men against the species
of terrorism which finally prevailed in its councils and effected its
overthrow.

In certain circumstances which I relate, I may possibly make some
mistakes in the dates, owing to the difficulty of finding those dates in
odd numbers and broken volumes of the Journals to which alone I have had
access.

It would have given me the sincerest pleasure to add to the collection
of heads, which I have been able to procure, those of others who took an
honourable part in the Irish struggle. Foremost among them are John
Martin and Kevin Izod O'Doherty, who followed in the footsteps and
shared the fate of John Mitchel. But I am not aware that there are any
likenesses of them in existence; at all events they are not to be
obtained in this country.[1]

There are others, too, mentioned in my narrative, whose likenesses I
would feel delighted to present to my readers, and some, who although
cursorily or not at all mentioned, acted a noble and devoted part. Of
the first, are the companions of my wanderings, James Stephens and John
O'Mahony; and of the second, Doctor Antisel, Richard Dalton Williams,
James Cantwell, Richard Hartnet, Patrick O'Dea, and indeed many others,
of whose efforts and sacrifices it would be a source of pride to me to
make honourable mention.[2]

I may be permitted to take this opportunity to assure them and others of
whom I have not spoken that no name has been omitted by me from any
feelings of dislike or any desire to depreciate the services and
sacrifices of a single man among the hundreds, whose exile or ruin
attests the sincerity of their convictions and the purity of their
patriotism. Even with men who do not take the same view of last year's
history as I do, their names and characters will go far to redeem its
darkest traces from shame and obloquy. They are now scattered over the
wide earth, and there is not one among them from the highest to the
humblest, whom I do not hold in the utmost honour and esteem.

_New York, September 21, 1849._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: I am glad it has been found easy to supply these in this
edition of the work.--Ed.]

[Footnote 2: Some of these will also be found in the present
gallery--Ed.]

[Illustration: William Smith O'Brien]




CHAPTER I

RETROSPECT--COMMENCEMENT OF THE REPEAL STRUGGLE.--EARLY DAYS OF THE
ASSOCIATION.


The appearance of this narrative will surprise no one. For apology, if
any be needed, the writer may trust to his own share in the transactions
with which it deals; and still more so perhaps to the misrepresentation
to which, during their progress, he had been personally subjected. But
personal vindication imparts neither interest nor importance to history,
while it necessarily detracts from its dignity and good faith. Besides,
time with the disastrous events marking its more recent course, have
silenced the voice of calumny; and the writer undertakes his task with
no personal feeling to gratify or even to consult. The character of
others, now unable to be heard, is far dearer to him than his own: and
while he aspires to justify, before the world, their singular career,
distinguished throughout by generous and lofty passions, surpassing
intellect and measureless love of their country and countrymen--a
career so brilliant and instructive even in the last hours of gloom--he
will endeavour to infuse into the history of their struggles and their
fate, that generous tenderness toward others, that spirit of
self-sacrifice and supreme love of truth, which were among their noblest
characteristics.

The undertaking suggests but one painful consideration--the
impossibility of treating the subject fully and fairly without
investigating facts far anterior to the late struggle, but coincident in
their effect with its progress and development, and stamping their
pernicious and fatal influence upon the spirit and conduct that led to a
final overthrow. This will necessarily involve an inquiry into the late
conduct and teaching of Mr. O'Connell, which the writer would most
willingly avoid. Mr. O'Connell's name and character fill a mighty space
in history. They are the most cherished recollections in his country's
memory; and she clings to them with loving pride in this her hour of
utter desolation. The hand that traces these recollections would be the
last to aim a blow at the object of her sacred affections; and if in
obedience to a more binding obligation, Mr. O'Connell's policy be
questioned and condemned, his influencing motive shall be unchallenged
and unarraigned. What his final purpose was, and how he had determined
to effect it, had his life been spared, and his course left unimpeded,
now rest with him in his grave. It is for others to write his history
and vindicate his career. By me even his mistakes shall be treated with
forbearance.

A brief reference to the struggle for Catholic Emancipation becomes here
imperative. That struggle has had no equal in history--nor for its moral
grandeur, nor for its triumph--but for the singular difficulties which
the position of the Irish Catholic imposed on those who engaged in it.
It is an error to call it emancipation. It was neither the first nor the
last, nor even the most important in the train of concessions, which are
entitled to the name of emancipation. The pains and penalties of the
"_penal laws_" had been long abolished, and that barbarous code had been
compressed into cold and stolid exclusiveness. But the vices which a
long and unrelenting slavery had burned into the character of the
country, remained. The lie of law, which assumed the non-existence of
the Catholic had infused itself into his nature, and while it was erased
from the statute book, it was legible on his heart. That terrible
necessity of denying his feelings, his property, his religion and his
very being, had stamped its degrading influence on his nature. In a
moral sense the law had become a truth--there was no people. The
Catholic gentry, giddy by their recent elevation, had only changed for
that semblance of liberty their old stern spirit of resistance and
revenge. Their new concessions hung gracefully around them, but they
were like grafts on an ash stock--their growth was downward, and they
wanted the stature and dignity of the native tree. Such were the means
at Mr. O'Connell's disposal. His enemies on the other hand were false,
powerful, dexterous and unscrupulous. His efforts necessarily partook of
the character both of the weapons he was obliged to wield and the foes
he struck down. As he advanced to eminence and strength, means, the most
crafty and cruel, were taken to overthrow him, every one of which he
foiled by a sagacity infinitely above that of his oppressors. So
successful had he been in deceiving the champions of intolerance, that
of all the great qualities displayed in that wonderful struggle, that
which was most prized was the cunning of evasion. It left behind it an
enduring and destructive influence. Dissimulation in political action
began to be regarded as a public virtue, and long afterwards, when men
sought to assert the dignity of truth, their candour was charged against
them as a heinous crime. It will be seen hereafter how fatally this fact
operated against their efforts.

The very character of Emancipation has assumed an exaggerated and false
guise. The joy of the nation was boundless--its gratitude immeasurable.
In the shout that hailed the deliverer, earlier deliverers were
forgotten. No one remembered the men whose stupendous exertions wrung
from the reluctant spirit of a far darker time the right of living, of
worship, of enjoying property, and exercising the franchise. All these,
and more, which were once, and not very remotely, denied to the
Catholics had been before this accorded to them. Yet the interest and
importance of winning access to Parliament, to the higher ranks of the
army, and, perhaps a stray seat at the Privy Council, acquired the name
of Emancipation, and Mr. O'Connell monopolised its entire renown. He was
styled the "Liberator," and his achievement designated as "striking the
fetters from the limbs of the slave, and liberating the altar." In
truth, the import of Emancipation was so exaggerated, and its history so
warped, that even now at a distance of more than twenty years, both the
act and the actors are so misunderstood that it requires no little
daring to approach a question involving the sensibilities, prejudices
and passions of an entire generation.

A truer appreciation might have given Mr. O'Connell a different and
higher destiny. Not alone the boundless exultation of the Catholic but
the mortified pride of the baffled Protestant also stamped its influence
on his fortunes, prospects and career. In proportion as he was to the
former an object of adulation and pride did the latter hoard up in his
heart for him enduring envy and insatiable hate. Another circumstance,
too, which Mr. O'Connell did not create and could not in the beginning
control, contributed to mar his future glory. This was the pecuniary
compensation which the emancipated Catholics kneeled to present him. It
is far from being intended here to disparage the offering or decry its
acceptance. On the contrary, if this were the proper place, both would
be vindicated with zealous pride. But the effect of the continued
collection, on Mr. O'Connell's conduct and efficiency was baneful in the
extreme. And it was among the most prominent circumstances in shaping
his career.

Mr. O'Connell entered the House of Commons under auspices more
flattering and encouraging than ever smiled on the advent to that
assembly of any other man. In whatever light he was regarded, he was far
the foremost personage of his time. How his subsequent career might
justify the hushed awe with which a proud senate received him if he had
devoted himself to the broad and comprehensive questions of imperial
jurisprudence, for which he seemed so eminently fitted, it would be idle
now to conjecture. Certain it is that no act of his after life, varied
and wonderful as it was, realised the promise of that glad and glorious
morning.

Lord Anglesea, who had been removed from the viceroyalty for suspected
treachery to the cause of intolerance, was restored to his office, by
more distinguished converts, and was received by the people with
tumultuous acclaim. His popularity was short-lived. The present Chief
Justice, Doherty, was then Attorney-General. He incurred the wrath of
Mr. O'Connell in consequence of treachery which he had exhibited in
conducting a trial at Clonmel. This led to a fierce encounter in the
House of Commons--the first great trial of Mr. O'Connell's powers--in
which Doherty's friends claimed for their champion a decisive victory.
However unjust may be that judgment, Mr. O'Connell's admirers were
compelled to admit that he failed in his impeachment and principally in
consequence of a letter written by Mr. Shiel, then second to no other
Irishman. Mr. Shiel had been associated with the Attorney-General in the
prosecution at Clonmel, and his letter boldly justified the conduct
which the great popular tribune vehemently and indignantly impugned.
This was quite unexpected, and greatly affected Mr. O'Connell's cause.
But whether Mr. Doherty failed or succeeded, he was rewarded, and almost
avowedly, by the Chief Justiceship of the Common Pleas. The appointment
was a direct insult to Mr. O'Connell, and scarcely a less direct insult
to the Irish bar, and the Irish nation. Mr. Doherty was regarded as a
man of great forensic ability, but no legal attainments. He had scarcely
acquired any practice, and no distinction whatever: so that his
elevation to a post he was so inadequate to fill gave universal
dissatisfaction, and was read as evidence that the Government of Ireland
was subservient to an unscrupulous and audacious faction.

Soon after the date of this appointment the first Repeal Association
was established by Mr. O'Connell. His motives were at once bitterly
assailed. By some he was charged with being influenced by personal
mortification. By some his conduct was attributed to a love of
turbulence and money. By some it was said he only intended the agitation
as a threat, by means of which he could enforce a wiser, more liberal,
and just administration of the law and government in Ireland. Few, if
any, believed him to be in earnest and sincere. But the condition of the
country and the principles of Mr. O'Connell's early life would suggest
higher motives; and the perseverance and intensity of feeling and
purpose, with which he urged the deliverance of his country in after
times, proves that he was a stranger to the sordid considerations which
envy or fear coupled with his first labours in that direction. Certain
it is that, whatever were his motives, it could be no tempting ambition
that determined him to transfer the exercise of his abilities to the
tribune of angry agitation from that more legitimate and loftier arena
which, with unsurpassed energy, he had won.

The agitation succeeded rapidly. The Government became at once
intolerant and impotent. They proclaimed down the agitation; but this
only imparted to it activity, energy and strength. The Government gave
way to a furious storm which had been long gathering elsewhere. The
great Reform Ministry succeeded with Earl Grey at its head; and in the
struggle for Imperial parliamentary Reform, Ireland and her independence
were forgotten.

During the intellectual conflict that followed, Mr. O'Connell asserted
his pre-eminence, and won a lofty name. He made far the most successful
speech on the question of Reform. It not only exceeded the ablest
orations of the British leaders, but was, perhaps, the most triumphant
he himself had ever delivered. But his position soon changed. From being
the unanswerable champion of the ministerial majority in the House of
Commons, he took the lead of a small opposition which resisted the
Government on the Irish Bill. Although the minister was the exponent and
stern advocate of the widest liberality, in applying the reform to
England, he undertook to defend, on the very opposite principle, the
niggard liberty he was prepared in the same measure to extend to
Ireland. In this unnatural and unexpected turn of affairs, Mr. O'Connell
took a proud and bold stand, against the Government, and for his
country. The ministry succeeded, but he had more than ever acquired the
confidence and unbounded gratitude of his countrymen. Thenceforward, he
was their acknowledged chief, and his words expressed not more his own
than the public will.

His remonstrances were vehement and angry, but they were vain. The
ministry disregarded the claims of justice, as well as the voice of the
orator. The quarrel became personal and vindictive to so great an
extent, that Mr. O'Connell's support would almost ensure the defeat of
any measure at the hands of the English Whig faction.

While this was his position in the House of Commons, he was preparing
the elements of an organisation which was destined to embrace the whole
island. He started the first great Repeal Association, which was at once
attended with marvellous success. Forty-four members of Parliament were
under its control if not in its ranks. A discussion of the merits of
Repeal was forced in the House of Commons by the intemperate zeal of the
member for Cork.[3] The motion was resisted by the whole weight and
influence of the Ministry. But in a resolution proposed as an amendment,
both Houses concurred in acknowledging that Ireland's complaint was
founded in justice, and in solemnly pledging themselves to the practical
redress of her grievances. The resolution was carried to the foot of the
throne, and there received the sanction of royalty.

But that resolution remained and remains unfulfilled. The ministry which
proposed it, redeemed their promise by an Algerine measure of coercion,
which Mr. O'Connell denounced as "base, bloody and brutal." His
opposition, and their own recreancy of principle, tended rapidly to
their overthrow. Lord Stanley, in hatred to Mr. O'Connell and his
country, abandoned the Government, which he charged with truckling to
the great demagogue's will. The country, on the other hand, withdrew its
confidence from them on the ground that they truckled to their
hereditary foes, and allowed the principles of the Tories to influence
Parliament in the name and through the agency of the Whigs. Division and
weakness followed; and the result was a break-up of the administration,
which was remodelled, with Lord Melbourne for its chief, on the
understanding that more liberal views should govern its future course.
An alliance was entered into with Mr. O'Connell, whose support the Prime
Minister openly claimed and as openly boasted of. Then was formed what
was known as the "Litchfield House Compact." This compact, if such the
understanding that existed can be called, was based upon the assurance
that the most liberal measures of justice should be extended to Ireland,
and that in the administrative department, the Government should apply
itself diligently to the reform and purifying of all public functions
and functionaries. What was the nature or extent of Mr. O'Connell's
engagement, I do not pretend to know. But whether he pledged himself to
abandon for ever the struggle for independence, or only to place it in
abeyance for a season to facilitate the action of the Government in
reference to their good intentions and favourable promises, he so far
fulfilled his engagement as to dissolve the Association.

That Association was composed of various and very conflicting elements.
The motives which influenced many of its leaders were equally varied.
Many joined it merely because Mr. O'Connell was its founder and its
guide. Many among the middle ranks of society had acquired a sort of
interest in agitation they could not easily surrender. It had gained
them local distinction, and gratified a morbid vanity. Profuse votes of
thanks were their incentive and reward. To correspond with Mr. Ray, or
perhaps the Liberator, consummated their ambition, and for aught beyond
that they felt no concern. Others there were, corrupt by nature and
cunning in design, whose political exertions had personal advancement
for their sole aim; and others still who never believed Mr. O'Connell
sincere, but joined the Association and shouted their approval, because
too contemptible and feeble to acquire distinction except through the
echo of his voice or under shelter of his fame. To the false and the
sordid and the indifferent, the dissolution of the confederacy was a
welcome event: but the people, yet uncorrupted, looked on passively with
agonised hearts.

Physical contagion generally begins at the bases of society, and trails
its way slowly to the upper ranks, occasionally dealing doom to some
hard hearts that mocked, it may be, its first uncared-for victims. But
moral corruption begins with the highest, and embraces the whole circle
of society in its descent. So it was in this instance. Members of
Parliament who had solemnly pledged themselves to the disenthrallment of
their country, accepted the wages, and entered into the service of the
Government who had one and all vowed they would prevent the fulfilment
of the hustings pledge, even at the risk of a civil war. Among them was
Mr. O'Connell's son, who had taken that pledge before the assembled
people of Meath, his son-in-law, Mr. Fitzsimon, who had sworn it to the
freeholders of the metropolitan county, Mr. Carew O'Dwyer who, in virtue
of the same pledge, obtained the unanimous suffrage of Drogheda, and
several others. Many relatives and friends of Mr. O'Connell obtained
rewards adequate to their services. Agents who had been successful
against Whig candidates now retired into Whig places. The corporate
towns were made over to the Whigs, who held out the understanding that
the sons, nephews and kindred of the leading and deserving citizens
would be provided for in the departments suited to their different
capacities, and varying from the post of tide-waiter, to that of
stipendiary magistrate. Fierce was the struggle which followed, and sore
the disappointment, and many a scalding tear of baffled ambition watered
the way to the aspirant's ruin.

This is not said for the purpose of disparaging the legitimate ambition
of those who sought advancement in the altered circumstances and
sentiments of the time. But the effect of such a state of things on the
morality of the nation was incalculably injurious. The most solemn
resolution was openly violated, and that by the very men who were
foremost in recommending the national vow. Nor would its tendency be
less fatal, assuming that Mr. O'Connell was correct in supposing that
the experiment would be vain, and that its failure could not fail to
supply new and more urgent reasons for the nation's independence. The
compact, if even entered into with that view, would shake all faith in
public men; because it would only change the parties with whom a false
obligation was contracted, leaving the obligation itself and its
violation exactly where they were.

Mr. O'Connell's support was doomed to be as fatal to the Whigs as his
opposition. He unhappily assisted them during his period to carry one
measure, against which they had recorded several solemn decisions in
Parliament, namely, the Tithe Bill, without an appropriation clause,
which was a direct falsification of their own resolution, whereby they
defeated Sir Robert Peel's short-lived administration, in 1835. And what
was still more lamentable, he supported them in renewing in a modified
form the very Coercion Act for the introduction of which he designated
them as "_base, bloody and brutal_."

But other elements were secretly sapping the influences for which he
made these sacrifices. The storm of disaffection, a long while gathering
among open foes and disappointed retainers, was about to burst on the
devoted heads of the Whigs. With their accustomed fickleness and
treachery of character they prepared to sacrifice, for the sake of
power, the man whom they conciliated and deceived in the same hope of
retaining it. If he foresaw that this would be the result of his
experiment, never was augury more fully realised. Whatever may be the
exact engagements of the Whigs, he was able to allege that not one was
fulfilled, while he was in a position to prove that he more than kept
his own: unless indeed, it could be assumed that for the few places
obtained by his friends, and others, some of them honourable men, he
surrendered the lofty and nearly impregnable position he occupied in
1834, and which, in one sense at least, he never afterwards attained.

From whatever cause, his influence over the Whigs visibly declined, and
his counsels no longer swayed their Irish policy. Once more they relied
on the false expedient of yielding to their enemies and allowing them to
wield the _power_, while they were themselves content with the spoils of
the country. Again the quarrel with Mr. O'Connell became bitter and
personal, and again had he recourse to Repeal.

From the time of the first Repeal Association to that of the Precursor
Society several other associations or societies were established, which
have left behind them scarcely the memory of their very names--that of
the second association alone excepted. Yet each had an ample treasury,
and was composed of the same or nearly the same elements, and the same
members. There is many an honest man and many a fool, whose boast it is
that they contributed a pound to each of them, and had their respective
cards.

At last the late Repeal Association was formed. Its birth was received
with sneers. Mr. O'Connell's sincerity was questioned, and his motives
canvassed with vindictive vigilance. The warmest Nationalists looked on
with doubt and coldness. Not one man of rank, outside the members of the
defunct society, joined its ranks. The routine of business, the receipt
of money, the resolutions, the speeches, were exactly identical with
those of its predecessors. The Government seemed neither to dread it nor
care for it. It lingered on, unsustained by the country and despised by
its enslavers. The contributions of the members did not suffice to pay
half the ordinary expenses of its machinery. Debts accumulated, and the
revenue did not increase. While the body was thus situated, Mr.
O'Connell had recourse to an expedient at once singular and decisive. It
was to build Conciliation Hall. The Association was at the time
seriously in debt, and he proposed to multiply that debt four-fold by
engaging in this costly undertaking.

While persons who affected to be in his confidence were amazed at this
step, the Government regarded it as an evidence of purpose which it was
indispensable at once to check. They saw that their opponents had
formerly menaced and coerced in vain, and they determined to proscribe.
Accordingly the newly appointed viceroy, Lord Ebrington, being waited on
by the Dublin Corporation with some address of congratulation,
delivered them a lecture on the disloyalty of the Corn Exchange, and
announced his purpose never to employ in the service of the Government
any one who frequented that pestilent locality. The corporation returned
abashed to their council-rooms to record the viceregal threat. But from
end to end of the land rose one shout of indignant defiance. Suspicion,
doubt and hesitation gave way to the taunt involved in the insolent
challenge. The ranks of the Association were filled, and its treasury
replenished; and the viceroy soon discovered how little was to be gained
by a vulgar appeal to the meanest passion when it was addressed to the
Irish people.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 3: Mr. Feargus O'Connor, afterwards leader of the English
Chartists.--Ed]




CHAPTER II

THOMAS DAVIS, HIS EARLY LABOURS.--THE "NATION" NEWSPAPER.--PROGRESS OF
THE ASSOCIATION.--CLONTARF MEETING.--THE STATE TRIALS.--THE YOUNG
IRELAND PARTY.--SMITH O'BRIEN.--FEDERALISM.--THE BEQUEST ACT.


Even before this great occasion, gifted spirits were insensibly moulding
the character and destiny of the Association. The hurried but firm step
of a pale student of Trinity College might be daily seen pacing the
unfrequented flagways that led to the Corn Exchange. His penetrating
glance, half shrouded by its own shyness, his face averted from the
crowd, and his mind turned within, he would come, and sit, and hear, and
suppress the emotions that swelled his proud young heart as he caught
glimpses of a bright future for his country. He had the richest store of
practical knowledge, an imagination fruitful as a sunny clime: faith,
hope and courage boundless as immortal love. That he could realise all
things which came within the scope of his own fond yearnings, he had no
doubt. But most of the men with whom he took his place were stinted in
acquirements, and not over-gifted in intellect, and had no conception or
ambition beyond admiring or applauding the behests of one predominant
and controlling will. With the passionate aspirations of the young
student they felt no kindred sympathies. In their hands, political
action, for whatever end, sank into a traffic or parade. Even with such
materials he determined to work out his country's redemption, though
already satisfied that before such a thing were possible, their habits,
feelings, passions and hearts should be entirely changed. In order to do
this, it was necessary he should stoop to the level of their conceptions
and capacities. Thus for many weary months, with his energies, as it
were, chained down to a cold stone, toiled and strove Thomas Davis. His
influence first began to be felt as chairman of a sub-committee on the
registers. This position afforded him an opportunity of entering into
correspondence with the leading politicians of the party, and whenever
he saw in any man's replies evidence of depth, capacity or earnestness,
he at once entered into friendly and unreserved communication, exhorting
him in language full of passionate entreaty. In these, his early
efforts, John Dillon shared his labours, his ambition and his heart.

[Illustration: Truly yours, Thomas Davis.]

About this time Mr. Stanton, proprietor of the _Morning Register_,
committed to the two young graduates the writing of his journal. His
preference was not so much owing to their character as politicians as it
was to their pre-eminence in literary attainments. The press of Dublin
had then sunk to the lowest level. Newspaper literature had even fallen,
too. It was divided into three sections, each of which was the whining
slave of one or other of the great predominating factions of the
country. The _Register_ was generally regarded as ranking among the
mercenaries of the Castle. But no sooner did it fall into the hands of
the college friends than all Dublin was startled by the originality,
vigour and brilliancy of its articles. When the Whigs were about
retiring they determined on a gross and scandalous abuse of power for
the purpose of rewarding an unscrupulous partisan, even though it
involved an affront to one of their oldest and ablest friends, the then
Irish Chancellor. That man was Lord Plunket, who had served the Whigs so
faithfully, honourably and fearlessly. He was commanded to retire in
order to make room for Sir John Campbell, who was thereby to be
qualified for the English peerage.

The stipendiaried journals of the Castle exhausted their adulation, and
had received their last reward for upholding the appointment. The Tory
press, hungry for the spoil which it maddened the others to lose, paid
back the compliments by intense vituperation. The slang of party warfare
was bandied in the usual fashion, without thought or a care beyond the
interest of party. The _Register_, to everybody's astonishment, took up
the one cause not represented, namely, that of the country. Davis
denounced the appointment as an insult to that country, and with a bold
hand vindicated the superiority of its Bar, without any reference to
party, above the adventurers whom each faction placed over it in turn.

Soon after he and his friend ceased to write for that paper; but not
until satisfied by the experiment that a journal devoted to Ireland,
guided by truth, and sustained with earnest ability, would supersede the
whole jaundiced literature of the metropolis, and create a new era in
the progress of the country's civilisation and ambition. They
immediately busied themselves to establish such an organ. Charles Gavan
Duffy, late editor of the _Belfast Vindicator_, entered into the spirit
of the enterprise, and after an evening's ramble in the Park, during
which the terms and the principles of the paper and the spirit in which
it should be conducted were canvassed, the publication of the _Nation_
was determined on. Mr. Duffy was convicted for having written a libel in
the _Vindicator_, and his friends earnestly advised him to compromise
the matter with a view of bringing more powerful energies to the same
task in a wider field.

The first number of the new journal appeared on the 12th of October,
1842. It had been announced under auspices calculated to ensure its
success, but its unexpected ability, the ground it broke in the national
policy, and the vast intellectual resources it developed eclipsed the
prestige under which it was deemed necessary to usher it into existence.
It was at once a proof of greater powers than the country had yet
witnessed, and a prophecy of a different fate from what she hoped for.
The aims, the logic, the very language of factious diplomacy were
eschewed. It seemed as if a light had streamed down from heaven, fresh
from God, to give the people hope, comfort and assurance. The genius of
Davis seized the opportunity as though he were His deputed messenger in
the great work of regeneration. For the first time men awoke to the
consciousness of what they were or might be. Harnessed to the triumphant
car of one gigantic intellect, they had forgotten the dignity of their
own nature, and were astonished to find how transcendant its resources
and sufficient its strength. The publication of the _Nation_ was really
an epoch which marked a wonderful change, and from that day forth
self-reliance and self-respect began to take the place of grateful but
stultified obedience and blind trust.

The change became more marked as the publication proceeded. In speech,
article, song and essay, the spell of Davis's extraordinary genius and
embracing love was felt. Historic memories, forgotten stories, fragments
of tradition, the cromlech on the mountain and the fossil in the bog
supplied him substance and spirit wherewith to mould and animate
nationality. Native art, valour, virtue and glory seemed to grow under
his pen. All that had a tendency to elevate and ennoble, he rescued from
the past to infuse into the future. His songs, so soft and tender, and
yet so redolent of manliness and hope, inspired the ambition to compose
a minstrelsy as wild and vigorous as themselves. They were read and
learned and sung with an avidity and pride heretofore unknown.

The monster meetings were long a design of Thomas Davis, John Dillon and
the present writer. One great object with them was to train the country
people to military movements and a martial tread. This object it would
be unsafe to announce, and it was to be effected through other agencies
than drill. The people should necessarily come to such rendezvous in
baronial, parochial or town processions, and under the guidance of local
leaders. Order is a law of nature; and, without much trouble on the part
of those leaders, it would establish itself. The present writer left
Dublin early in the spring of 1843 to carry this design into effect. Sir
Robert Peel, then Prime Minister of England, alluding to the fact in the
House of Commons, said that the first Monster Meeting was purposely
held on the anniversary of the very day, the 22nd of May, destined for
the rising of '98. Sir Robert was wrong in his inference, though it was
a natural and nearly justifiable one; for at that Cashel meeting were
offered unmistakable evidences of the tendency of the agitation. Upwards
of £1,100 were handed to Mr. O'Connell. Each parish came in procession,
headed by a band and commanded by some local leader; and those who took
part in the public procession marched in excellent order for upwards of
eight miles. A military and magisterial meeting had been previously held
in the barracks of Cashel to consider whether the people should not be
routed at the point of the bayonet. But though the committee were fully
aware of this consultation, they decided unanimously that the meeting
should go on. The meeting itself passed the strongest resolutions, and
adopted a petition to the Legislature, consisting of a single line,
something to this effect: "You have robbed us of our Parliament by fraud
and blood; pray restore it, or ----." And finally, Mr. O'Connell said at
the dinner that evening, alluding to an armed strife; "Give me Tipperary
for half a day." This simple wish, enunciated in accents familiar to
that great ruler of men, elicited a cheer, a shout, a wild burst of
enthusiasm, so long and loud as almost to suggest the idea that it would
be seconded by naked steel and a deadly blow. One would think it had a
significant meaning, and yet there was no wrathful ban. Not one
pronounced that terrible anathema against shedding a single drop of
blood, which afterwards became the canon of peaceful men. Nay, if memory
be not very treacherous, amidst that roar was loudly distinguishable
the voice of him who on an after day, yet to be spoken of, cursed from
God's altar those who wished to realise his simulated aspirations and in
the endeavour had forfeited their lives. A doggerel ballad had been
written for the occasion by Thomas Davis, to the air of the "Gallant
Tipperary," over which himself and his friends afterwards indulged in
many a hearty laugh. One verse runs as follows:--

    The music's ready, the morning's bright,
    Step together left, right, left, right,
        We carry no gun,
        Yet devil a one
    But knows how to march in Tipperary O!
    By twelves and sixteens on we go,
    Rank'd four deep in close order O!
        For order's the way
        To carry the day,
    March steadily, men of Tipperary O!

It is here introduced as a proof and a justification of what has been
stated in reference to one great object of the projectors of the monster
meetings. Possibly it will be said that this is an admission of the
truth of a charge frequently urged by Mr. O'Connell against the _Nation_
and its writers, namely, that they having intentions of which he knew
nothing, had committed him to breaches of the law, of which he was not
only not guilty but not cognisant, but which by a perversion of judgment
were given in proof against him at the celebrated State Trials. It is
quite true that they did entertain the intentions which he afterwards so
vehemently repudiated. But they never once concealed them. In the
Association, and where Mr. O'Connell was committed with them, they
abstained from giving them utterance; but they did so because they felt
bound to act in accordance with the resolution of that body. And with
respect to the proceedings of the Cashel meeting and the more wonderful
and significant meetings that followed, they always submitted to him and
had his entire sanction for every act done at and every line written for
these meetings. In fact, if he were in any way mistaken as to them, they
were still more grievously deceived as to him. All their acts and
speeches were in the direction of their intentions; all his acts and
speeches were in the same direction, and went further. In truth, they
believed that he fully concurred in the sentiments which they cared not
to conceal, but which he had the cunning or caution not to avow. One
justification of this belief has been already given; another and a more
pregnant one was the Mallow defiance which the greatest poet and the
greatest sculptor of our time and nation have immortalised. In reference
to proofs not published, however conclusive, this history shall be
silent.

Succeeding events shall be briefly glanced at only. Some of them have
already attained a place in history; and the scope of my narrative only
embraces the facts, incidents and tendencies which led to an armed
crisis and governed its explosion. Meeting followed meeting in rapid
succession, and each was marked by some signal manifestation of a
healthier, holier and more resolute national purpose. Numbers, calmness,
order, obedience, bespoke an advanced discipline, and prefigured future
victory. The crowds that attended the Halls of the Association no longer
consisted of idle brawlers; they were listening, thoughtful mechanics,
conscious of the toil and danger that lay before them, and braced for
the encounter. Dignitaries of the church and the ablest men among the
second order of the clergy appeared on the platform, and added sanctity
and dignity to the proceedings. Members of Corporations through the
country, and private gentlemen of rank brought to the imposing
confederacy the weight of their office, rank and name. The existing
Government in a splenetic attempt to crush it, had dismissed certain
magistrates for having their names enrolled on its books. This new
aggression gave a fresh impetus to its progress. Men who had previously
looked on it with doubt or fear, now embraced it as the only safeguard
for the remaining liberties of the island. The parliamentary committee
which had been instituted by Mr. O'Brien, had exhausted every source of
information within the reach of industry in developing the resources and
capacities of the country. The committee of the Association counted
within its members one hundred lawyers who preferred the fortunes of
Ireland to professional or political advancement. Many of these and
others who were not of the party brought to the popular tribune rare
endowments, the most generous passions, and the noblest eloquence.
Poetry, fresh, vigorous and full of heart, shed her harmonising and
ennobling influence upon the whole, and imparted to patriotism the last
pre-requisite of success. Amidst this grand movement stood Mr.
O'Connell, erect, alone, its centre and its heart. He was not its guide,
but its god, until he slept within a prison, and came forth less than
man.

During this period two events occurred deserving particular notice--the
only facts upon which Mr. O'Connell's supremacy was questioned, or his
advice audibly condemned. These were, first, his refusal of French
contributions and French sympathy, of which M. Ledru Rollin, since so
celebrated, was to be the bearer; and secondly, his acceptance of
contributions from America under protest, against the "infamous
institution" of slavery. He rejected the first with indignant scorn,
because it was the offering of "republicans," and spoke of the latter
with contempt, as "smelling of blood."

These two acts alienated from his cause the only foreigners in the world
who were willing to espouse it. His wisdom was questioned and condemned.
It was urged upon him that he should not intermeddle with foreign
institutions or with the political predilections of individuals. Enough
for Ireland, he was told, to find that Frenchmen and Americans were
ready to do battle in her cause, and it ill became her to spurn their
advances with indignity and a sneer. The argument failed, his hatred of
slavery and republicanism out-weighed all other considerations.

I have fixed upon the State Trials as an epoch in this history, marking
a distinct phase in the character of the Repeal Association. The
proceedings of that extraordinary inquest are familiar to most men. It
is not my intention to refer to them, except as a sort of pivot upon
which public sentiment veered. When they were commenced there was
untold wealth in the coffers of the Association. There was still a
greater store of public purpose in the country. Threats, hot and
violent, had been uttered. Pledges had been made which could only be
violated in shame and death. A challenge had been given from which it
would be baseness to shrink. The world looked on in wonder and awe. Each
successive act was more and more gigantic; each resolution bolder. When
the meeting at Clontarf was projected, the heart of the nation beat
quick and hotly. Yet no man was surprised; none condemned. The
associations of the spot suggested a perilous future. Still the hazards
it prefigured created no alarm; the directions of a sub-committee
respecting the military order of the processions towards the place of
meeting was but the expression of the public hope that lay at every
heart.

While the bustle of preparation was at its height; while the flushed
capital was dizzy with wild excitement, a proclamation appeared on the
walls--'twas nearly evening's dusk--forbidding the proposed
demonstration. For that proclamation there was no law; scarcely any
object. It could not render the meeting illegal. It would not entitle
the chief magistrate to disperse it; for if it were proved to be
constitutional, he would be answerable before the laws of his country.
It was simply a warning utterly inefficient for good or ill in any trial
that may follow. In this state of things, a responsibility of the
greatest magnitude devolved on the Association, or its committee. They
were hastily summoned or came together spontaneously. Alarm, surprise,
disappointment, chagrin, swayed their hurried consultation. The
decision was weak, and it was fatal. It was only carried by a small
majority, but in that majority was the great spirit of the confederacy.
Never after did he stand on equal terms with his adversary. He was
driven before him amidst broken hopes, and broken promises--his
challenge, a boast unfulfilled, his prestige withered.

What the issue might have been if the decision were different, it would
be rash to conjecture. It might have been carnage; it might have been a
triumph. The historian has nothing to do with conjecture. But in this
case was involved a mighty question, palpable, self-created and
conclusive. The wisest forethought may fail to arrive at a sound
conclusion as to the result of holding the meeting. The risk existed, no
doubt, that some ill-disposed or hired villains, or even rash
enthusiasts may provoke the troops, and thus afford a pretext for
carnage. But opposed to that were the dictates of prudence, honour and
fear on the part of those in command of the army; and it seemed a more
probable result that either the meeting would be allowed to proceed, or
it would be illegally dispersed in the usual way by reading the Riot
Act. Even if the weight of conjecture were the other way, the
consequences should be risked rather than falsify the national pledge.
To recede was cowardice; not the vulgar cowardice arising from personal
weakness, but the moral cowardice which shrinks from an imperious
obligation, because it is perilous. The meeting should be held; every
possible precaution should be taken to prevent an armed conflict. If
Power, drunk with its own advantage, risked an outrage, the people
should be taught to yield; but only to yield with the purpose of
entering a court of law, as prosecutors and avengers. Even if worse
consequences ensued after every effort to prevent them had been
exhausted, the issue should be left to God. Recriminations, painfully
petty in their nature, followed. The Government were charged with a
premeditated design to commit wide and indiscriminate slaughter, and the
weakness, in which were shrouded deep national shame and guilt, was made
matter of indecent boast. The Government, aware of the unexpected
advantage, followed up the blow. Mr. O'Connell took shelter in the
sacredness of the Hall, which, he imagined, he had guarded against the
encroachments of arbitrary power, and thither they followed him. Having
abandoned a position where he could act on the offensive, he was forced
to contend against the aggressive attacks of Government flushed with its
first success.

The trial that followed already occupies a large space in history. Its
effects were immediate and disastrous. The personnel of the accused
assumed the nation's place. Exhortations full of intense eloquence were
addressed to the people from which the question of the country's
deliverance was entirely excluded. Technicalities of law absorbed the
attention which was due to Liberty. A demurrer, a motion in abatement,
or in arrest of judgment, was canvassed with a deeper interest by the
people of the provinces than by even the distinguished Bar, which were
arrayed on either side. Mr. O'Connell's infallibility in law engaged the
anxious solicitude, the pride, the passions of Ireland. Yet throughout
that long trial the question which would test it was not mooted. The
indictment was a subtle net-work, which excluded such argument. The
objections to the indictment also were objections of form merely, and
the final issue upon which the judgment was reversed was not even
remotely connected with the main enquiry, whether or not the charge of
conspiracy was sustainable in point of constitutional law. During the
progress of the trial, a fraud, a swindle, a petty theft, was
perpetrated by the officers of government, which more than one man, high
in office, had a hand in suborning. This fact had supreme influence on
the decision of the House of Lords. But the plain truth is, the judgment
was reversed as an essential move in a great party game.

Ireland triumphed. Her triumph was a just and a great one.

But her exultation was on a fallacious basis. She believed Mr.
O'Connell's infallibility was re-established. No one cared, or perhaps
dared to correct the error. In itself it seemed little worthy of notice,
yet it had its share of evil influence. First, it diverted men's minds
from the one question; secondly, it left behind it the demoralising
effect inseparable from untruth. Were it even what the public eagerness
chose to shape it, its relative value, weighed against the triumph of
courage and virtue, would be contemptible.

Mr. O'Connell himself did not seem to share in the nation's pride. His
spirit was broken. He anticipated the glad wishes of the metropolis, and
walked home from the penitentiary clouded and gloomy. It was evident
something within him had died. However, he went back the next day, and
left the prison the second time in the midst of public rejoicings never
surpassed on any occasion in his life. His addresses on that day, and
subsequently while in town, were not such as they were wont to be; and
he soon retired to his wild mountain home to invigorate a mind and body,
borne down by gigantic labours, fearful responsibilities, some alarms,
and perhaps a chilling sense of defeat and weakness. His health was soon
restored, but his political vigour never. The first time his voice was
heard from that retreat, it was to recommend a compromise; and, for the
first time, his advice was openly opposed. Charles Duffy answered his
letter, which recommended to fall back on Federalism--a question in the
mouths of many, but in the brain of none--respectfully and firmly
remonstrating against such a course. In a great many circles, Mr. Duffy
could not be looked at with more wonder if he had recommended to cut off
Mr. O'Connell's head.

Hitherto, this condensed retrospect has been almost exclusively confined
to the name and fortunes of O'Connell. It is time now to revert to other
actors in the scene. Even before the trial, elements of antagonism had
begun to manifest themselves. With the party since called "Young
Ireland," every consideration was subordinate to the great question of
national deliverance. They laboured incessantly to elevate the morals,
the literature, the taste, passions, genius, intellect and heart of the
country to the sublime eminence of a free destiny. Far the foremost man
in urging and encouraging this glorious endeavour was Thomas Davis. From
sources the most extraordinary, and the least known, there welled forth
abundant and seductive inspiration. He struck living fire from inert
wayside stones. To him the meanest rill, the rugged mountain, the barren
waste, the rudest fragment of barbaric history, spoke the language of
elevation, harmony and hope. The circle, of which he was the beloved
centre, was composed of men equally sincere, resolute and hopeful; there
was not one of them undistinguished. Some of them had now the first
literary distinction. The character of each was remarkable for some
distinctive and bold feature of originality. I, of course, exclude
myself from this description. I know not to what circumstance I owe the
happiness of their trust and friendship. My habits, my education, my
former political connections, disqualified me for such association.
Since first I took my place among them, seven or eight years have now
rolled by. They have been years of severest trial, years of suffering
and sorrow, years of passion and prejudice and calumny, years of rude
and bitter conflict, years of suspicion and acrimony, and finally of
defeat and shame; still, in that eventful course of time, to me at
least, there has occurred no moment wherein I would exchange the
faintest memory of our mutual trust, unreserved enjoyment and glad hope
for the hoarse approval of an unthinking world. There was no subject we
did not discuss together; revolution, literature, religion, history, the
arts, the sciences--every topic, and never yet was there spoken among us
one reproachful word, never felt one distrustful sentiment. Our
confidence in one another was precisely that of each in himself; our
love of one another deeper than brotherly. When we met, which was at
least weekly, and felt alone, shut in from the rude intrusion of the
world, how we used to people the future with beauty and happiness and
love. Little did we dream that those for whom we toiled, and thought,
and wove such visions of glory, would shun and scorn, and curse us. But
had that bitter cup, which afterwards we were forced to empty to the
dregs, been then presented to us, there was not one of us who would not
have drunk it to the last drop; drunk it willingly and cheerfully,
without further hope or purpose than our own deep conviction that we
owed the sacrifice to truth.

Those who took immediate part in the proceedings of our circle before
the State Trials, were Thomas Davis, John Dillon, Thomas MacNevin,
Michael Joseph Barry, Charles Duffy, David Cangley, John O'Hagan, Denis
F. MacCarthy, Denny Lane, Richard Dalton Williams, with one or two
others whose names I cannot mention. To this list was afterwards added
Thomas Francis Meagher, Richard O'Gorman, John Mitchel, Thomas Devin
Reilly, and Thomas Darcy M'Gee. I do not include several distinguished
men who lived in the provinces with whom we communicated, and from whom
we received sympathy and sustainment; and I omit others who took a
leading part, in deference to the position they are now placed in.

[Illustration: John Blake Dillon]

With the first section above named, originated the idea of publishing
the _Library of Ireland_. It was proposed, discussed, and determined on
one evening, at the house of Thomas MacNevin, while some one sat at the
piano, playing the lovely Irish airs, of which the soft strains of Davis
suggested the conception to William Elliot Hudson. The music was as
true to the Celtic genius as the lays of Davis to its character and
hopes; and amidst the entrancing seductiveness of their association, was
born the generous resolution of rescuing the country's literature from
the darkness in which it had long lain. The _Library of Ireland_ was
proposed as a beginning, and so diffident did its promoters feel, that
they deemed it indispensable to engage the recognised genius of William
Carleton, whose name and abilities they pledged to the public, as an
assurance for the undertaking. Mr. Carleton promptly undertook his share
of the task, and James Duffy, the enterprising bookseller, assumed all
the risk and responsibility of the enterprise.

John Mitchel, then known to few, and appreciated only by Thomas Davis,
was by him associated with those who were willing to engage in the new
and difficult labour. He pledged himself for him, and selected his
subject. Most nobly was that pledge redeemed; but its fulfilment dawned
on the fresh grave of him who made it. Other men, and first in order, as
well as eminent in ability, was Thomas MacNevin, who has also sunk into
a too early grave, more than realised the most sanguine hopes of an
exulting country. Death first interrupted this new current of life, even
in its day of most sparkling promise. Disunion haunted the petty
jealousies of little and narrow minds; famine, pestilence and defeat
have done the rest. The labourers are dead, exiled, immured in dungeons,
or scattered over the face of the earth as fugitives; and how far they
had capacity to fulfil their inspiring promise, can never be tested
more. A few, however, remained, and amid greater gloom, and nearer to
utter death, they stand out redeeming beacons to the future.

I have not mentioned the name of Mr. O'Brien, as associated with us at
this early stage. He joined the Association in a time of great
excitement. The _Nation_ hailed the accession with the fondest joy. The
consistency of his politics, the purity of his intentions, and the
unvarying rectitude of his life gave abundant assurance, not alone that
he was deeply sincere, but that his purpose could only be changed by
death. But to those who looked beyond the expediency of the hour, those
who had cherished fervently the passionate aspirations for true liberty
his name and character became an augury of success: nor would they
intrude for any consideration on the attitude of lofty dignity he
assumed.

It has already been stated that elements of antagonism between Mr.
O'Connell and the Young Ireland Party had at this time (the period of
the State Trials) manifested themselves. It will be remembered that this
period embraced a space of nine months, from the date of Mr. O'Connell's
being held to bail in September, 1843, to that of his sentence the 30th
of May, 1844. As the events of this or the previous year do not,
properly speaking, range within the historical scope of my narrative, I
have excluded chronological and historical order. My object has been to
group together the great features of the confederacy without other
reference than that of pointing out their moral influence, operating
through a long space of time. Thus I have referred to the Parliamentary
Committee instituted by Mr. O'Brien among incidents which belong to an
anterior period, because the vigour of these incidents, which left
moral seeds in their track, continued to co-exist and blend with the
powerful agencies of that Committee. As I now approach the period when
the differences with Mr. O'Connell, which hitherto developed themselves
in the distinctive characteristics of the respective opinions of both
parties rather than in any direct collision, became tangible, it is
necessary to observe strict historical and chronological accuracy.

Before proceeding to details of succeeding events, a brief
recapitulation of important facts, with the dates of their occurrences,
become necessary. A few others, not heretofore alluded to, must needs be
added.

The date of the imprisonment is the 30th of May, 1844: that of the
release the 6th of September in the same year.

In the intermediate period the amount received in the Repeal treasury
during four weeks was, £12,379 14s. 9d.

About the close of August was passed the Charitable Bequest Act, against
the indignant remonstrances of the priesthood and Catholic population of
Ireland. This Bill was obnoxious in all it's provisions, but the
enactment which was received with most scorn was the clause that
annulled a Catholic charitable bequest, unless it had been duly made six
months at least before the decease of the testator. The prohibition was
attributed to an insulting assumption that the Catholic clergymen abused
their influence over dying penitents, for sacerdotal or religious, if
not for personal aggrandisement, and the impeachment was repelled with
bitter execrations. Others objected to the Bill on grounds involving
more alarming considerations. They regarded it as the first infringement
on the liberty of the Catholic Church--the first criminal attempt to
fetter her free action and sow dissent among her prelates and priests.
The Repeal Association offered, from the beginning, its undivided,
unqualified and indeed vehement opposition. But amidst the storm and
rage of the nation, it became the law, and three Roman Catholic prelates
of the highest reputation undertook the duty of its administration.

One party there was who regretted the Bill still more deeply, but in a
different point of view. At the head of these was Thomas Davis. He
regarded it as an instrument of dissension and weakness, cunningly
adapted to that end by Sir Robert Peel, and he deplored the diversion of
the public mind and energy from the grand national object. Mr. O'Brien,
to a certain extent, shared this feeling, but never obtruded the opinion
or ventured to check the Association, while Mr. Davis confined his
efforts to passionate warnings addressed through the columns of the
_Nation_.

This question is introduced here because it was important and fatal in
its consequences. A still more important one taken in the same light
must interrupt its discussion for a moment: Mr. O'Connell's Federal
letter, already referred to. The leading sentiments of that letter are
subjoined. It is dated the 2nd of October, 1844.

After stating what Simple Repeal and what Federalism respectively meant,
he proceeded to contrast their value.

"The Simple Repealers are of the opinion that the reconstructed Irish
Parliament should have precisely the same power and authority which the
former Irish Parliament had.

"The Federalists, on the contrary, appear to me to require more for the
people of Ireland than the Simple Repealers do; for besides the local
parliament in Ireland having full and perfect authority, the Federalists
require that there should be, for questions of imperial concern,
colonial, naval and military, and of foreign alliance and policy, a
Congressional or Federal Parliament, in which Ireland should have her
fair share and proportion of representatives and power.

"It is but just and right to confess that in this respect the
Federalists would give Ireland more weight and importance in imperial
concerns than she could acquire by means of the plan of Simple
Repealers.

       *       *       *       *       *

"For my own part, I will own that since I have come to contemplate the
specific differences such as they are, between Simple Repeal and
Federalism, I do at present feel a preference for the Federative plan,
as tending more to the utility of Ireland and the maintenance of the
connection with England than the plan of Simple Repeal.

       *       *       *       *       *

"The Federalists cannot but perceive that there has been upon my part a
pause in the agitation for Repeal since the period of our release from
unjust imprisonment."

I have only extracted from Mr. O'Connell's most elaborate letter, his
distinctly expressed preference for Federalism, and the single reason
upon which the preference is founded. The remainder consists for the
most part of a sort of logical equation, balancing the component
elements of both plans, from which is deduced the above conclusion.

Charles Duffy's answer, dated October the 18th, was triumphant and
conclusive, at least in Mr. O'Connell's own mind, for he did not
afterwards repeat the same sentiments. But a blow had been given the
Association from which it never recovered. The newspaper press, taken
under three distinct heads, first the blind and heedless echoers of Mr.
O'Connell's doctrines, secondly the Whig organs in Ireland, and thirdly
the papers in the English interest, gave way to unrestrained exultation.
The wisdom, the prudence, the holiness of the "great Liberator," were
extolled as unmatched in the annals of statesmanship. A few whose
self-interest constrained their subserviency, shrugged wisely and said
nothing, while several provincial journals stoutly maintained the
undoubted and enduring supremacy of the great national aim over every
weak expedient.

Whatever hopes may be entertained by Mr. O'Connell, his suggestions met
with no sustainment and no response, save the empty echoes of an
adulating press. Among the great party to whom he appealed, not one
voice was heard to suggest a practical step in the direction intimated.
The project fell, if indeed it were ever seriously entertained, leaving
no memory and no regret. The first place Mr. O'Connell afterwards
appeared in a public capacity, was at the Limerick banquet, given on'
the 20th of November. His speech on that occasion contained scarcely a
reference to Federalism, and both his sentiments and those of the other
speakers, including John, Archbishop of Tuam, as well as the Toasts and
Mottoes, were distinguished for loftiness of tone, unflinching purpose
and highest enthusiasm. But other elements were at work furtively
sapping that purpose and dimming that enthusiasm.

Prominent among these was the spirit of religious dissension already
under discussion, to which it is now time to recur.

At and after the period when the Roman Catholic prelates accepted the
functions of administering a law insulting and obnoxious to the
Catholics generally, much angry controversy prevailed. A report was rife
that the Government not alone succeeded in deluding the Irish Bishops,
but had accredited a minister plenipotentiary, whose mission was to
conciliate the Court of Rome to a "Concordat" with England. A rescript
said to be received by the Most Reverend Doctor Crolly, the Primate, was
adduced to prove not alone the existence of the intrigue, but its
partial success. The rescript contained an admonition to restrain the
intemperate violence of political priests, and an advice to confine
themselves more generally to the sacred functions of their holy office.
The English press magnified the advice into a command, and exulted over
the failure of the Repeal movement whose extinction they augured from
the withdrawal of the Catholic priesthood.

Mr. O'Connell, alarmed at the import of a command so fatal, pronounced
the rescript "uncanonical." This led to greater dissensions and bitterer
recriminations. The prelates who condemned the Bequest Act, denounced
those who accepted the task of administering it. One of the body thus
writes:--

    "The resolution [referring to one passed at a meeting of the
    prelates, which was pronounced by the ministerial press a vote
    of unanimous approval of the bishops' acceptance of the office
    of Commissioners] did not meet the approval of all the Bishops,
    neither could it convey to any one of the Episcopal
    Commissioners the most distant notion that in accepting the
    office he did not oppose the views and wishes of many of his
    Episcopal brethren. When the resolution was moved, there were
    six of the protesting Bishops absent, and a moment was not
    allowed to pass after it was seconded, when it was denounced in
    the strongest manner by two of the Bishops present. They
    solemnly declared before the assembled prelates that, in the
    event of any prelate accepting the odious office, they would
    never willingly hold any communication with him in his capacity
    as Commissioner."[4]

But, while disunion reigned at the council board of the Catholic
Hierarchy, the Government plied their task of seducing, dividing and
misrepresenting bishops, priests, people and nation. Out of all the
elements of disunion, distraction and disaster over which they in turn
gloated, the British newspapers, with wonderful accord, predicted and
boasted of the complete overthrow of the Repeal Party. It was amidst
these circumstances of gloom and evil augury the year 1844, a year
within which range the most startling, extraordinary and trying events
of Ireland's recent history, came to a close.

Before I conclude this chapter, I must revert to a fact which, although
unimportant in relation to the view of the question under consideration,
deserves to be remembered in connection with future events. The date I
cannot fix, as it was confined to the private circle of the Association
Committee, and no record of it remains. Immediately after the close of
the State trials, as well as I can remember, Mr. O'Connell proposed the
dissolution of the Association, with a view of establishing a new body,
from which should be excluded all the "illegal" attributes and accidents
of the old. The suggestion was resisted by Mr. O'Brien, and all those
understood to belong to what was called the Young Ireland Party. They
protested against such a course as false, craven and fatal, and Mr.
O'Connell at once yielded to their vehement remonstrances.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 4: Doctor Cantwell to Mr. O'Connell. Given in the _Nation_,
Vol. III., No. 119.]




CHAPTER III

FURTHER EMBARRASSMENT CAUSED BY THE RESCRIPT--DIFFERENCES BETWEEN MR.
O'CONNELL AND THE PRIMATE.--FINANCIAL REFORMS IN THE COMMITTEE OF THE
ASSOCIATION, AND CONSEQUENT DISSENSION.--'82 CLUB.--THE COLLEGES
BILL.--DIFFERENCES AND CALUMNIES CONSEQUENT UPON IT. QUARREL WITH MR.
DAVIS.--THE GREAT LEVEE AT THE ROTUNDA.--DECLINE OF THE
AGITATION.--CLOSING LABOURS AND DEATH OF THOMAS DAVIS.


Thus wrote Thomas Davis at the opening of the new year:--

    "Hitherto our dangers have been few and transient. The product
    of mistake or enthusiasm, they were remedied by explanation and
    kindliness. There are dangers threatened now, and against them
    we shall try the same prompt and frank policy which never failed
    us yet. Already the English press are quarrelling for the spoils
    of the routed Repealers. They are almost unanimous in describing
    the people as disgusted, the leaders as exhausted, and the
    policy of the ministers as rapidly levelling the defences of the
    once great party.

    "We do not quail. We remember that whenever the rent[5] has
    fallen, the same press cried out the people are sick of the
    agitation. Whenever righteous discussion took place in our
    councils, they exulted over our 'fatal divisions,' and at the
    beginning of each new blunder of the cabinet, they sang victory.

    "If the Irish be a hot or capricious race, who plunge into a new
    policy because it is new, and abandon their  dearest interests
    and most solemn vows because their success needs time, then
    indeed Repeal was hopeless and was always so. If the leaders
    have not sagacity enough to embrace the business of an empire
    and pierce through time, unwearied industry, pure hands and
    resolute spirits, then to repeal is hopeless until a new race of
    chiefs appears."

Almost contemporaneously with this article, the Catholic Primate
contradicted Mr. O'Connell's assertion respecting the rescript, and laid
rescript and contradiction before the public. "I was surprised and
sorry," he writes, "to find that you had ventured to assert that a
letter sent to me some time past from the Propaganda was not a canonical
document." He adds that he laid the document before the assembled
prelates, and appends the resolution in which they acknowledged its
authenticity and approval of its counsel.[6]

Mr. O'Connell at once expressed his entire acquiescence and deep
contrition. He bowed reverentially to the resolution of the prelates,
retracted the hasty opinion, and apologised for his error, which, he
said, resulted from his great anxiety of mind, caused by the avowal of
the _Morning Chronicle_ that the Whigs had a secret agent in Rome.

But the prelates were far from unanimous in their construction of the
rescript which they promised unanimously to obey. With the resolution
among his papers, the Archbishop of Tuam proceeded directly from the
Episcopal meeting to the Repeal banquet at Limerick, where he delivered
a speech stronger in language and more violent in character than any he
had ever uttered. Some passages in that speech, wherein he eulogised the
heroism of the women of Limerick who cut their long hair to supply the
defenders of the city with strings for their bows, excited the wildest
enthusiasm and most rapturous applause. Doctor Cantwell, in the letter
already referred to, gives his construction, which he says was that of
the majority.

    "The Cardinal only evidently censures violent and intemperate
    language, in either priest or bishop, whether they address their
    flocks in their temples, or mix with their fellow-countrymen in
    banquets or public meetings. We inferred, and I think we were
    justified in the inference, that conduct and language at all
    times unbecoming our sacred character, and not our presence on
    such legitimate occasions, were the object of this salutary
    caution."

His construction was sustained more clearly and forcibly by Thomas
Davis. "It [the rescript] announces the undoubted truth that the main
duty of a Christian priest is to care for the souls of his flock, and
both by precept and example to teach mildness, piety and peace. It does
not denounce a Catholic clergyman for aiding the Repeal movement in all
ways becoming a minister of peace. Nowhere in the rescript is the
agitation as a system, or repeal as a demand, censured; but some
reported violence of speech is disapproved."

The coincidence seems a strange one, that in the same paper, which thus
disposes of the rescript, the same paper wherein appear the letters of
Doctor Crolly, Doctor Cantwell, and Mr. O'Connell, the same paper in
which is published the official denial of a Concordat with the Pope,
under the viceregal seal, are also published the proceedings of the
Repeal Association, which consisted, to a great extent, of a violent
attack on the exploded Concordat. At the meeting held on the 13th of
January, it was denounced especially by two of Mr. O'Connell's friends,
Mr. O'Neill Daunt and Mr. John Reilly, in terms the most vehement and
indignant. Mr. Daunt used these words. "On that day fortnight he had
proclaimed from the chair of the Association, that if a rescript should
emanate from Rome denouncing the national movement, the Catholics of
Ireland would treat it as so much waste paper." This statement was made
on the 13th, Doctor Crolly's letter is dated on the 11th, Mr.
O'Connell's on the 14th, and Lord Heytesbury's denial of the Concordat
on the 15th of January. Contemporaneously with all these was also
published an address of his clergy to the Archbishop of Dublin,
deprecating in the strongest language certain calumnies against him,
which they attribute to priests and people, Protestant and Catholic.

From these proceedings one inference is inevitable, namely, that they
who have so strongly inculcated obedience to the Holy See, and
denounced as an infidel any Catholic who refused blind obedience to its
decisions, in reference to secular education, were not then troubled
with the same sensitiveness or scrupulousness of conscience in regard to
the authority of the Roman Pontiff. But of that one word hereafter. I
here reproduce the historical facts connected with these letters, for
another object. Although the excitement about the threatened Concordat
was allayed, and the invectives against the Archbishop of Dublin abated
in intemperance, the bitterness of feeling which swept over the country
like an avenging scourge, left behind it germs of discord and weakness.

Publicly or privately the Seceders did not interfere. At the meeting of
the Association already alluded to, Mr. O'Brien made a most noble
speech, inculcating education, self-reliance, organisation and progress,
without stooping to refer to the perplexed question, which filled his
audience with angry passions, and supplied the other speakers with
intemperate enthusiasm.

The whole endeavours of the Seceders were at this time devoted to the
organisation of clubs or reading rooms on an educational basis.
Connected with this object was the augmentation of the Repeal revenue,
which was anticipated from the extended action of these political and
social schools. The funds were greatly diminished, and the weekly
collections had fallen to an average of about £150. It became necessary,
as much as possible, to curtail the expenses, and a reduction of a very
serious amount was effected during Mr. O'Connell's absence at Derrynane.
The effort was continued after his arrival in town, which led to
differences of opinion with him, in committee. Sinecure situations,
created by him, were abolished, and inquiries were instituted which gave
him great annoyance. He particularly resented and resisted the removal
from one of those offices of Doctor Nagle. Doctor Nagle was appointed to
be "curator of manuscripts", the ostensible duty of which was to
superintend the reports (then daily issuing from the press, and written
for the most part by the Seceders) for the purpose of preventing the
publication of anything illegal or dangerous. In effect, he was
nominally, literary, legal and moral censor. But the unanimous and loud
indignation of the essayists rendered his task a light one. He was
content to accept the salary and leave those gentlemen the guardians of
their own safety, their character and literary fame. Doctor Nagle
continued to act as librarian and, weekly, delivered to the secretary
certain lists of contributions that had been previously furnished him by
that gentleman. His salary and certain fees given to other "patriots,"
came under the cognisance of a sub-committee consisting, as well as I
remember, of the present member for Dublin,[7] a Mr. O'Meara and someone
whose name I now forget. Their report adjudged the office useless, and
recommended its immediate abolition. A motion was accordingly made in
committee for Doctor Nagle's dismissal. Mr. O'Connell was in the chair.
All his sons were present, one of whom, I think, moved an amendment to
the effect that he be continued at his then salary. A division took
place, when the majority against the amendment was considerably over two
to one. Mr.

O'Connell expressed himself deeply mortified at this result. Another
amendment to the same effect was then proposed and negatived by a
majority numerically somewhat less, when Sir Colman O'Loghlen moved, and
John Loyd Fitzgerald seconded, an amendment to the effect that he be
continued as clerk of the library at half his salary, that is £50 a
year. The result would have been the same as before but that many of the
majority had withdrawn under the impression that the question was
disposed of; the number for the amendment was twenty-two, and the number
against only twenty-three. Mr. O'Connell assumed the right to give two
votes, one as member, which made the numbers equal, and a casting vote
as chairman. It was then proposed and carried that every chairman should
in future have two votes, and Sir Colman's amendment was allowed to pass
in the affirmative. Doctor Nagle continued to fill his office until his
appointment to a more lucrative one under the Whig Government.

The Eighty-Two Club which was projected in prison was finally organised
in January, 1845. The differences which manifested themselves in
Conciliation Hall imperceptibly extended to this body. The original
members constituted the committee and were self-appointed. The others
had to submit to a ballot. Some few were rejected, at which Mr.
O'Connell's friends took umbrage, and the rejected aspirants were sure
to attribute their decision to their devotion to the "Liberator." Thus
it happened that most objectionable candidates could not be resisted
without incurring the imputation of opposing and thwarting the "saviour
of his country."

[Illustration: Charles Lavan Duffy (1846)]

Mr. O'Connell himself, although he warmly approved of the club in the
commencement, soon ceased to feel an interest in its proceedings. For
the first year, its action was confined to some routine dinners, which
attracted a very fashionable attendance, and furnished an occasion for
some brilliant speaking. Yet the fame and respectability of such a body
were seductions which few of the leading men in the confederacy could
resist. The Eighty-Two Club became a standard toast at public dinners,
and its members were received as distinguished guests or visitors
wherever they appeared. Without having yet performed any distinct
service, or realised the promise involved in its establishment, the club
became a very important and imposing body.

Mr. O'Connell was its president, and Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Grattan, Sir
Colman O'Loghlen and others, vice-presidents. The first committee was
composed of the Members of Parliament, Mayors of cities, and men eminent
in the different professions and literary pursuits. Complaints of
inattention were made against some of its members, and at the election
for officers after the expiration of the first year, others were
substituted for the inattentive and inefficient. The change for the most
part was made by unanimous consent; but when a ballot was called for,
other names were substituted for those on the house list, recommended by
the former committee, and the contest resulted in the rejection of
Richard Barrett and one or two others. This was taken as an affront to
Mr. O'Connell, though personally he neither took part in, nor was
present at, the meeting. Whether it was owing to Mr. O'Connell's
aversion to the green-and-gold uniform, to which he sometimes expressed
his dislike, or his objection to the rejection of his soi-disant
friends, or to his consciousness that the club was not subservient to
his control, he took very little interest in its progress, and
frequently spoke of it in terms of derision.

But that which produced the first sensible and vital difference between
Mr. O'Connell and the Seceders was the Colleges Bill. Education had long
been a subject of anxious solicitude with Mr. Davis, and he was in
continual communication with Mr. Wyse, its great parliamentary champion.
He had repeatedly urged upon him the indispensable necessity of the
principle of mixed education, as the basis of any collegiate system for
Ireland. That basis was recognised in the system of national education
which was accepted and approved of by the whole Catholic Hierarchy, with
one exception, and most warmly sanctioned by the Catholic priesthood and
laity. Extreme bigots of the Protestant school opposed and denounced it
as unscriptural and Godless, and one extreme bigot of the Catholic
school echoed the objurgation. It was not to be supposed that a
principle thus sanctioned, tried, and efficient as applicable to the
children of the poor, would be objected to when applied to those who
were higher in station and older in years. When, therefore, the Bill was
introduced and its principal provisions announced, it was received with
the utmost delight and, even, triumph. Mr. O'Connell proclaimed in a
meeting of the committee his emphatic approval of the principle of the
Bill.

As soon as its details were published, it was submitted to the
parliamentary committee, and, during its discussion there, he expressed
for the first time some doubts as to the practicability of a mixed
system of education. Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Davis and others expostulated, and
deprecated in unmistakable terms the fatality of engaging the
Association to a principle so sectarian, narrow and illiberal. He said
he would take time to consider, and would meantime consult with Doctor
MacHale. He was reminded that Doctor MacHale could not approve of the
system without gross inconsistency, and requested to take the opinion of
all the other Bishops as well. How far he was governed by this advice is
unimportant and impossible to tell. But the bishops met in solemn synod
and published the result of their deliberations in the following
memorial:--

    "That memorialists are disposed to co-operate on fair and
    reasonable terms with her majesty's government and the
    legislature, in establishing a system for the further extension
    of academical education in Ireland.

    "That a fair proportion of the professors and other
    office-bearers in the new colleges should be members of the
    Roman Catholic Church, whose moral conduct shall have been
    properly certified by testimonials of character, signed by their
    respective prelates. And that all the office-bearers in those
    colleges should be appointed by a board of trustees, of which
    the Roman Catholic prelates of the provinces in which any of
    those colleges shall be erected shall be members.

    "That the Roman Catholic pupils could not attend the lectures on
    history, logic, metaphysics, moral philosophy, geology, or
    anatomy, without exposing their faith or morals to imminent
    danger, unless a Roman Catholic professor will be appointed for
    each of those chairs.

    "That if any president, vice-president, professor, or
    office-bearer, in any of the new colleges shall be convicted
    before the board of trustees of attempting to undermine the
    faith or injure the morals of any student in those institutions,
    he shall be immediately removed from his office by the same
    board."

It will be observed that the principle of mixed education is not here
directly approved or condemned. But approval is an inference, as clear
and emphatic as words could express. The memorial prays for distinct and
specific alterations in the details of the Bill. It demands that certain
branches of secular education should be taught to the Catholic students
by Catholic professors approved of by the prelates, and it insists upon
other guarantees to secure the Catholic youth from the danger of all and
every species of interference with the tenets of their faith.

How far the demands of the bishops were just or extravagant, is not a
fit subject of inquiry here. But the fact of making the demands stamps
the principle of the bill with their incontrovertible approval. The
argument which denies it involves an accusation against those Most
Reverend and Right Reverend divines, of evasion, treachery and untruth.
Any defence which implies that they avoided the direct condemnation of
the principle because they knew their memorial would be disregarded,
which would enable them to interdict the whole Bill, principle and
details, on the ground of the immorality of the latter, involves an
implication that moral and Christian turpitude is synonymous with
Catholic zeal. Such an implication, inevitable from the premises assumed
by the opponents of the mixed system, would be foulest calumny. The
Catholic prelates were eminently sincere; and had they been warmly
seconded they might have obtained such ameliorations in the details of
the system as would be satisfactory to every rational, liberal and
honest man. But the old jealousy, division and calumny which had grown
out of the Bequests Act, obtruded themselves on every attempt at calm
consideration, and scattered the elements indispensable to successful
moral combination. The principle and details of the academic project
became confused and confounded, and while some clamorously opposed,
others unthinkingly supported, the entire. Thus the minister was enabled
to balance the voice of public opinion as he found it arrayed for and
against his measure, and under pretence of indifference to despise both
parties. For a long while, the action of the Association was paralysed.
There were deeper questions at issue there than even those which
appeared on the face of the bill. The educational party insisted that
any measure which did not embrace the University was scanty and
illiberal. They claimed its honours, advantages and emoluments for all
the youth of Ireland alike; and they sought to make the academic
subordinate to and parcel of the collegiate system. The Dublin
University and Trinity College are separate and distinct foundations and
establishments. They proposed that Maynooth and Trinity College should
be both sufficiently endowed for all purposes of ecclesiastical
education, without any interference, direct or indirect, from each other
or the Government, while the University should be open alike to all who
had obtained distinction in the provincial colleges. Any measure of
narrower scope would, they contended, leave dullness and bigotry where
it found them.

Mr. O'Connell, on the other hand, insisted on the inviolability of
Dublin College as a Protestant institution, inaccessible to Catholics,
except through the slough of perverted and perjured faith. He would then
have new colleges purely Catholic and entirely under the control of the
Catholic bishops, but endowed by the State, and chartered to confer
literary degrees. He would extend the same right to the members of other
religious persuasions. It was answered that these positions and his
arguments addressed to the academic question were irreconcilable and
incompatible. Catholics were already admissible to Dublin College, and
entitled to certain degrees and a vote. He either intended that they
should be thenceforth excluded or he did not. If not, then the argument
against mixed education would hold for nothing: if he did, then he
attempted what was impracticable, or, if not impracticable, preposterous
and absurd. It is not conceivable that Catholic young men, of laudable
ambition, would be deterred from entering the lists with their
Protestant contemporaries where most honour was won by superior
eminence, or that they would be swayed by a warning that a college
course would be attended with risk to their faith and morals, when they
remembered that for the past century, while the risk was infinitely more
imminent, no such warning had been ever heard from council, synod or
conference. It is a strange fact in the history of these troubled times
that no voice of denunciation against Dublin College could be heard in
the polemical din, although it was well known that its literary honours
stamped preliminary degradation on the Catholic aspirant, and were used
at once to mock his political condition and pervert his faith--no voice
was heard although one at least of the prelates had obtained degrees in
the University, while the bishop and priests of an entire diocese, in
conclave assembled, solemnly resolved that they would refuse sacraments
to any Catholic parent who sent his son to one of the Godless colleges.
But supposing it were practicable to exclude Roman Catholics from the
University, and that the system of exclusive education among the middle
and upper classes were applied in all its rigour, when were Protestant
and Catholic to meet? If it were dangerous to faith and morals that they
should discuss together the properties of an angle or the altitude of a
star, it could hardly be safe to have them decide together a principle
of law or determine the value or limits of a political franchise. All
this was urged on Mr. O'Connell, and sometimes apparently with success,
for he more than once consented to forego the discussion of the question
in the Hall; and he would have strictly adhered to that engagement had
he not been goaded by the intemperate counsels of others.

In the desultory history of this question, two facts have been stated
requiring distinct proof. They are:--First, that Mr. O'Connell was
favourable to the principle of mixed education in the commencement.

And, secondly, that the Seceders--those who were afterwards so glibly
denounced as infidels for their support of the Godless bill--were as
much opposed to that bill as he was.

How Mr. O'Connell expressed himself when the bill was first announced
has been already stated. It is at once conceded that the writer's memory
of a conversation, in its nature almost private, were he even above all
suspicion, would not be a safe authority. In this instance there is no
need to rely on it--the statement is more than sustained by Mr.
O'Connell's recorded words. From a number of occasions, equally
available, I select one, because of its solemnity and importance.

In a prolonged and most earnest debate in the House of Commons, on
motion for going into Committee on the Bill, June 2nd, Mr. O'Connell,
after eulogising the Maynooth grant, says:--

    "Take one step more, and consider whether this bill may not be
    made to accord with the feelings of the Catholic ecclesiastics
    of Ireland. I ought not to detain you: I am not speaking here in
    any spirit of hostility. I should be most happy to give any
    assistance in my humble power to make this bill work well. I
    have the most anxious wish to have this bill work well, because
    I am desirous of seeing education promoted in Ireland; but even
    education may be misapplied power. I admit that at one time I
    thought the plan of a mixed education proper, and I still think
    that a system of mixed education in literature and science would
    be proper, but not with regard to religious education."

    And further on: "Again I repeat I am most anxious for the
    success of this bill, but I fairly tell you it cannot succeed
    without the Catholic bishops....

    "There may have been harsh expressions in the public papers, but
    depend upon it great anxiety exists in Ireland to have such a
    measure."

The second proposition would be abundantly sustained by a single
sentence in Thomas Davis's commentary on the speech from which I
extract the above.

    "On our part we had feared O'Connell conceded almost too far."

But the testimony of Mr. O'Connell himself will be considered more
conclusive.

Speaking in the Association on the 6th of July, he said:--

    "I may remark for the present that on this subject a question of
    difference has arisen among ourselves. Some of the members of
    the Association are for what is called mixed education, and
    others of us are against it, but that difference of opinion
    ought not to create any division among us, for neither the one
    nor the other of us is gratified by the bill as it stands."

Again, in the course of the same speech, he said:

    "We (Mr. O'Brien and himself) did our best to avert such a
    calamity. We called upon the Government not to persist in
    working out this bill in all its details of blackness and
    horror."

He concluded by lauding Lord John Russell for his valuable assistance in
the attempt to amend the bill, and finally said that, having failed in
this attempt, he "flung the bill to the ministry, to deal with it as
they pleased."

Mr. O'Brien continued in London, and proposed amendments to the bill in
every stage of its progress. It was during that time he was assailed by
Mr. Roebuck with all the little malevolence of his envenomed nature. He
failed in every attempt to remedy the defects of the bill, which passed
its last stage in the Commons on the 10th day of July. On the 17th of
the same month, Mr. O'Connell, speaking in the Association, said:

    "In the resolution I am about submitting to the Association, we
    have not inserted one word about mixed education. This is a
    question upon which there exists some differences of opinion. I
    have my opinions upon the subject, I am the decided enemy of
    mixed education....

    "I fully respect the contrary convictions entertained by others,
    and I am the more ready to proclaim that respect because at
    present all possibility of discussion on the matter is out of
    the question."

It will be observed that Mr. O'Connell's opinions underwent a serious
and important change during the time over which these speeches range.
That change was produced gradually, and not without infinite trouble on
the part of his son whose inveterate zeal knew no bounds. In his
father's presence, and more particularly so in his absence, he denounced
the bill, and held up any Catholic who dared to support it to public
indignation. He called on the people of Waterford to demand Mr. Wyse's
resignation, not because he was an unfaithful representative, but
because he was unchristian. If he had not determined to divide the
Association on this question, he did all a man could do who had so
determined.

I shall only trouble the reader with two quotations more. They refer to
the question immediately under discussion, namely, that the Seceders
were as much opposed to the obnoxious clauses of the bill as those with
whom they differed. But while they are unequivocal and conclusive on
that branch of the subject, they go still further and attest the sincere
forbearance with which they treated language and conduct which appeared
to them in the utmost degree narrow and intolerant. Discussion among the
bishops naturally produced discussion among the chiefs of the
Association, and it was agreed that the Association should confine its
objections to those provisions of the bill upon which there could be no
disagreement. The first petition of the Association was confided to me.
I endeavoured to embody in the petition what appeared to me the true
basis of a comprehensive system of education. Some persons on the
Committee objected to certain phrases as susceptible of an inference
favourable to the principle of mixed education. Mr. O'Connell joined in
the objection and succeeded in reducing the petition to a single
paragraph, deprecatory of the Tenth Clause of the Bill. I refused to
have any more to do with the petition, and it was dropped. After the
lapse of a fortnight, Mr. Maurice O'Connell proposed another, simply
praying that the tenth clause, which vested the appointment of the
professors of the college in the Government, should be rejected.

Upon the occasion of this petition being submitted to the Association
(9th June, 1845), Mr. J. O'Connell delivered one of his usual invectives
against the bill and its abettors. Mr. O'Brien deprecated the
ill-feeling and discord such language was calculated to provoke. In the
course of his observations he said:--

    "In seconding the motion of my hon. friend, the member for
    Kilkenny, for the adoption of this petition, it is not my
    intention to follow into any of the polemical questions which,
    in the course of his protracted speech, he has raised in this
    Association. I am obliged, however, to say in candour that in
    some of the views he has put forward I cannot agree.... We have
    given a general concurrence in this Hall to the recommendation
    that has emanated from the Catholic Hierarchy.... I am not
    disposed to assist the Government in making those seminaries,
    which ought to be seats of learning, filthy sties of corruption.
    It is because I believe that such would become their character
    if this tenth clause were to remain a legislative enactment that
    I shall oppose it to the utmost."

The Reverend John Kenyon, then little known, rose to protest against the
course pursued by Mr. J. O'Connell, which he characterised as not only
uncatholic but unchristian. Mr. J. O'Connell, in the blandest tones,
deprecated any discussion tending to division, which induced Mr. Kenyon
to sit down. Having spread with dexterous industry the most baleful
elements of discord, he begged they should not be disturbed.

I will be pardoned for transcribing here a few observations of my own on
that occasion.

    "I am exceedingly anxious, having the misfortune to differ most
    widely from my honourable friend the member for Kilkenny, on the
    subject of academical education, to express my cordial
    concurrence with him in reference to the subject of this
    petition. I shall not say one word about our difference of
    opinion. I shall enter into no disturbing or dividing
    discussion, and the more so because any difference we may
    express could not fail to impair the efficiency of our action
    where we are thoroughly agreed. I condemn this clause as
    strongly as the hon. member can. Nay, I will go a step further,
    and say that if there be no provision made by the bill for
    religious instruction and moral culture, Protestant and Catholic
    ought to unite in struggling for its rejection. No matter how
    splendid may be the accommodations provided by these
    academies--no matter how richly they may be endowed--if there be
    no provision made for the religious education of the pupils, I
    trust they will remain silent, unattended Halls."

Numerous other proofs to the same facts are accessible, but these are
abundantly conclusive. The history of the struggle itself, the slow and
evidently reluctant change in Mr. O'Connell's opinions, and the
intolerant spirit with which the enemies of the bill pursued the name
and character of those who, although they approved of the mixed system,
were as inveterately inimical to the dangerous provisions of the bill as
they were themselves, sufficiently attest that faction swayed the
troubled movement of clerical and popular passion alike. The vulgar and
virulent anathemas of some tongues and pens not only swept unsparingly
over the unhappy crowd, but aimed at the lofty sphere of Episcopal
authority, even where most identical with purity and piety. A malignant
charity extended to the errors of the Primate that palliation which
perverted reason otherwise refused to admit. Too lofty to be accused of
treachery, he was not too sacred to be pronounced mad.

The Committee of the Association alone nearly escaped the influence of
the fierce spirit of the times. There the voice of reason for a while
held sway. The forbearance and respect for conflicting opinions which
preserved its dignity were, with the one exception, extended to the
proceedings in the Hall, where even the most unscrupulous were checked
by a petition which recognised and welcomed the principle of united
education, but strongly deprecated the objectionable provisions of the
"Godless Bill." To this petition was affixed the signature of almost
every educated lay Catholic in Dublin. The number of Catholic barristers
alone whose names are found among those signatures amounts to
seventy-two. At the same time, a remonstrance addressed personally to
Mr. O'Connell was signed by the leading Catholics of the Association.
Its object was to preclude all discussion on the subject of the disputed
principle in Conciliation Hall. It was signed for the most part by men
who theretofore had taken but little part in the dispute. But against
all these precautions passion by degrees prevailed, and when Mr.
O'Connell was reminded by Mr. Barry, of Cork, that in reply to the
remonstrance he had pledged himself to abstinence from the irritating
discussion, his apology was, that he thought the document in question
and all proceedings connected with it were strictly private; as if the
privacy of a solemn pledge dispensed with its obligation.

An episode in this strife deserves specific notice. At a meeting of the
Association, held on the 26th of May, the question was incidentally
introduced. Mr. Michael George Conway, a man of considerable literary
and oratorical powers, but not distinguished for any very rigid piety,
introduced the subject, evidently with the view of exciting Mr.
O'Connell's impulsive character against the species of restraint under
which his sinister friends were continually hinting he was held. The
speech breathed the most fervent spirit of Catholic piety, seasoned
with bitter invectives against what Mr. Conway described as a baffled
faction in the Association. Mr. O'Connell took off his cap, waved it
repeatedly over his head, and cheered vociferously. Few, if any, of the
Catholic gentlemen who were opposed to Mr. O'Connell, were present. Mr.
Davis rose, and commenced by saying: "My Catholic friend, my _very_
Catholic friend." The allusion was intelligible to almost every man in
the assembly, but the practised and dexterous advocate saw and seized
the advantage it presented for exciting the active prejudices of the
audience. He started up and exclaimed, "I hope it is no _crime_ to be a
Catholic." The whole meeting burst into a tumultuous shout which bespoke
a triumph rather than admiration. Mr. O'Connell did triumph, but not in
the sense understood by his applauders. He apprehended the effect of the
honest, frank and manly exposure which, if he were not rudely
interrupted, would be made by Mr. Davis, and he was too keen to allow an
opportunity, so tempting to his object, to pass, though he should
violate all the observances of good feeling and decorum. Mr. Davis, on
the other hand, felt the blow to be a stunning one. He was shocked at
the same time by Mr. O'Connell's disregard, not alone of friendship, but
of common courtesy, and by the intemperate exultation of the audience.
To his loving nature, both seemed, especially in such a place, utterly
unintelligible and grossly unkind. He was the last living man to offer
insult to the belief or even the prejudice of a Catholic, and he felt
that this was thoroughly known to Mr. O'Connell, and that it ought to be
known to his audience. The disappointment and the rudeness were too
much for his susceptible heart, and he so far yielded to wounded
feelings as to shed tears. Mr. O'Connell, whether gratified by success
or influenced by his better impulse, caught him by the hand and
exclaimed: "Davis, I love you." Although the first struggle closed
amidst cheers, there were carried away from that meeting in the breasts
of many, seeds of bitterness and hate which ripened in after times and
under gloomier auspices. I dwell on it as important, although a casual
incident, frequent and almost inevitable in political excitement. There
were two parties from whose memory the scene never passed. These were
the blind followers of Mr. O'Connell, to whom it seemed blackest guilt
to question his supremacy or infallibility, on the one hand, and on the
other, all who sympathised with genuine and lofty emotions, and regarded
the attack on Mr. Davis as wanton, brutal and contemptible. The
miserable little faction that existed on the spoils of the Association
magnified the difference and fanned the discontent. That Young Ireland
had received its death-blow passed into a watch-word among them.

An event of mighty augury and most trifling results, which distinguished
the year 1845, must not be passed unmentioned. This was the celebrated
levee, held in the Round Room of the Rotunda, on the 30th of May, the
anniversary of the imprisonment. It was referred to a sub-committee, on
which Mr. Davis and Sir Colman O'Loghlen were principals, to devise the
most appropriate celebration for that important day. They determined on
a public levee, to which were summoned whatever there was of
respectability, authority, genius and worth in the island, which
recognised the wisdom, justice and holiness of the struggle for
Nationhood. All the corporations, every delegation which derived public
authority from the popular voice, besides citizens of the unincorporated
towns, answered the summons with alacrity. That day witnessed a scene
the most extraordinary, imposing and formidable of the kind in modern
annals. The Round Room was thronged to excess, but preconcerted
arrangements had provided for the convenience of its favoured visitors,
while the public streets, abandoned to chance, presented an immovable
mass of human beings, swaying to and fro, but governed by a single and
omnipotent impulse, which steeled them to the pressure and broil as if
they felt themselves in presence of a speedy deliverance and free
destiny.

[Illustration: Richard O'Gorman, Jun. (1848)]

[Illustration: Patrick O'Donohoe (1848)]

The preparations engaged the vigilant activity of a large committee for
two entire days and nights. Yet these preparations bore an infinite
disproportion to the display of wealth of mind, of energy of thought,
and national pomp, which ushered in the glorious morning. Those who
scoffed at the project when it was first announced came to mock the
scene but went away admiring. The spirit of the hour infused itself into
the public heart, which appeared to throb but to one impulse and one
aim: at all events no one was, no one could be, found obdurate enough to
question the significance or importance of the proceeding.

Mr. O'Connell's fellow-prisoners shared his state and the homage which
was paid to him. But in the outward crowd no one dissociated him
personally from the minutest detail of the day's proceedings, or
admitted for a moment that any other human being partook of its glory,
or directed its end. High above the multitude they saw him receive the
nation's homage, which seemed but the expression of the liberty he had
already achieved. How he felt the influence of the scene there is no
record to tell. His demeanour while exercising the prerogatives of his
position was such as became a man conscious that he occupied a throne
loftier than ever yet was decked by a kingly crown. But when his
official functions were discharged, he addressed the impassioned throng
in language too tame for the most ordinary occasion.

The great act of the day was the adoption of the following pledge. It
had been prepared and approved by the Committee of the Association, and
every word was canvassed with the most scrupulous regard to the trying
circumstances which the committee found themselves in presence of. The
virulent hostility of the Tory Government had been baffled, and its
utmost strength discomfited. It was understood at the time that a Whig
Government was in the advent of power, and the great object of the
pledge was to record the solemn conviction of the Nation that they were
faithless and treacherous as the others were unscrupulous and
vindictive, and that to the corrupting influence of the one and the
unmasked hostility of the other the same resistance should be shown. The
pledge was preceded by this resolution:--

    "Resolved, That in commemorating this first anniversary of the
    30th of May, we deem it our duty to record a solemn pledge that
    corruption shall not seduce, nor deceit cajole, nor intimidation
    deter us from seeking to obtain for Ireland the blessings of
    self-government through a national legislature, and we recommend
    that the following pledge be taken:--

    "We, the undersigned, being convinced that good government and
    wise legislation can be permanently secured to the Irish people
    only through the instrumentality of an Irish Legislature, do
    hereby pledge ourselves to our country that we will never desist
    from seeking the Repeal of the Union with England by all
    peaceable, moral and constitutional means, until a parliament be
    restored to Ireland.

    "Dated this 30th day of May, 1845."

This pledge was adopted formally in the Pillar Room of the Rotunda, in
presence of most of the Irish mayors, the leading delegates of the
country, the members of the Eighty-Two Club, and a vast concourse of
gentlemen both from the metropolis and the provinces. It was proposed by
William Smith O'Brien, seconded by Henry Grattan, and put to the meeting
from the chair by the eldest son of Daniel O'Connell. The cheer that
hailed its adoption was a shout not of approval, but defiance. But alas!
many voices mingled in the chorus which have since been attuned to the
meanest whine of mendicancy. That they vilely belied their solemn
promise were of little moment. Nay, more, it is bootless to consider
whether they were more false-tongued and false-hearted in that great
pageant, or on the recent occasion of their kneeling in their own shame
to pledge a faith they do not feel, in expectation of some royal notice
or royal favour. What is mournful in both instances is this, that a show
of wealth, a practice of successful chicanery called good sense, or
public trust won by intrigue and falsehood, should so blind the world
to the _man's_ rotten and vulgar heart as to raise them to a position
where their acts should be regarded as indicative of the feeling or
important to the destiny of a nation.

With the 30th of May, passed off the excitement of which it was the
cause and scene. Those who arranged the grand pageant of that day, and
invested it with attributes, suggestive, imposing and useful as ever
decked a public spectacle, would have wrought it out into a sterner
purpose: but the heart upon which they counted had, even then, died. Mr.
O'Connell's speech too painfully bespoke his utter inability to guide
the nation in any higher effort. The energy that should have seized the
occasion to confirm the people in their strong purpose, and elevate
their hopes to the level of the great stake at issue, exhausted itself
in balancing the routine details of cold and empty statistics. The
curtain fell, and nothing remained but grotesque figures, withered
garlands, broken panels and desolate dust, which mingled confusedly
behind the scene, over the dark, deserted stage. The journals, of
course, preserved, for a few days, very glittering reminiscences of the
scene. With one accord, they pronounced it surpassing in interest and
importance. Great results were anticipated in the newspaper world; and
many imagined they had fulfilled the last obligations they owed their
country. But with the men, who had fondly hoped to date therefrom a new
era and begin a nobler task, the 30th of May, was of dark, despairing
augury. They clearly saw that from that hour forth there remained but
the alternative of abandoning their cherished hopes, or attempting to
realise them without the aid, perhaps in opposition to the wishes, of
Mr. O'Connell. It was a gloomy and sad conviction, but it was no longer
to be blinked.

Meantime, Mr. O'Connell returned to the Hall, and repeated to a jaded
audience, week after week, the same stale list of grievances. From any
other man the repetition would be intolerable. But the public ear had
become attuned to his accents, to which, whatever the sense of his
language, men listened as to a messenger of heavenly tidings. Mr. Duffy
strongly urged upon his fellow labourers the improbability of success,
and advised a distinct change of policy. In this he was overborne by
their united opinion, and the _Nation_ continued to promulgate the same
bold, unwavering course. By degrees the feeling of bitterness
entertained by the anti-education section of the priests found
utterance, and the paper was, almost openly, denounced as an infidel
publication. At first indeed, the charge was shrouded in mysterious
insinuations; but it soon gained strength and audacity, and received the
unblushing sanction of at least one prelate. The answer of the _Nation_
was confined to one indignant line. Proof was demanded and was not
offered; but its very absence only deepened the malignity of the
slanderers. Even in the midst of this storm the muse of Thomas Davis
sang no discordant strain, nor did his pen trace one angry word. On the
contrary, he summoned his whole energies to the task of harmonising the
jarring elements around him. His inspiration rose to that unearthly
height, whereon guidance becomes prophecy. Great, strong and unselfish
convictions, entertained holily and uttered sincerely, are assurances
of new creations, pledges of the destiny to which they tend. In this
spirit, spoke and sang Thomas Davis during a time of bitterness and
dissension. And his counsels had been successful, but alas! in that last
effort his fond, faithful, trusting heart was broken.

There was a perceptible lull in the agitation. The country gradually
relapsed into a state of inactive and vague hope, which centred in the
mental resources of Mr. O'Connell. The difficulties which the people
should have appreciated and learned to overcome, they transferred, with
easy and trusting indifference, to the energies of the "Liberator,"
which they not only deemed boundless but immortal. From all educated and
thoughtful men, however, hope in those energies had passed away. Davis
seduously endeavoured during the summer months of 1845, to gather these,
and others of the same class from the Conservative ranks, round some
common object or endeavour, outside Mr. O'Connell's path, and not
calculated to wake their prejudice or jealousies. The Art Union, the
Archaeological Society, the Royal Irish Academy, the Library of Ireland,
the Cork School of Design, the Mechanics' Institute and every effort and
institution, having for their aim the encouragement of the nation in
arts, literature and greatness, engaged his vigilant and embracing care.
Of each of these institutions he became the great attraction, the real
centre and head. While he successfully wrought to give a national and
steady direction to Irish intellect and enterprise--Hogan, in Italy,
Maclise, in London, and others like them, who were bravely struggling
and nobly emulating the highest efforts of the genius of other lands,
were vindicated, encouraged and applauded by his pen. Among the sterner
natures, who urged their way through the stormy elements of agitation,
his accents, though low and diffident, commanded the deepest attention
and most lasting memory. While thus engaged, compassing by his "circling
soul," every sunward effort and immortal tendency of the country, death
came, sudden and inexorable, and struck him down in his day of utmost
might. His last work on earth was the brief dedication of the memoir of
Curran, and edition of his select speeches, which he had prepared, to
his friend, William Elliot Hudson. This he wrote during a pause of
delirium, and soon afterwards passed to a brighter world. He died on the
16th of September, 1845, when yet but thirty-one years old. How sincere
and deep was the public grief, no pen can ever tell. In the mourning
procession that followed his hearse there was no parade of woe, but
every eye was wet and every tongue silent. If ever sorrow was too deep
for utterance, it was that which settled above the early grave of Thomas
Davis.

During the summer, no effort of the Association rose above the hacknied
level of the usual weekly meetings and the repetition of the same stale
grievances, except a gathering of Tipperary at Thurles, which took place
on the 23rd of September. This was the largest of the monster meetings:
but, although the crowd was enormous and the shouting loud, it seemed
without purpose or heart. During the preparations for that meeting I had
to encounter difficulties of the most extraordinary kind. First, the
meeting was opposed by certain influential clergymen; and when they
found themselves too feeble to resist, they transferred all their
opposition to me. There is no petty cavil they had not recourse to, to
thwart and discourage, and even when all had succeeded I was treated
with personal discourtesy and annoyance at the public dinner. The seeds
of strife, afterwards destined to bear such deadly fruit, had already
begun to manifest themselves, and petty calumnies were insinuated in the
name of religion and morality. From that great meeting the crowd retired
quickly, and, almost as instantaneously, its effect faded from the
public heat. All that remained was soreness and distrust.

No event worth a memory marked the close of 1845, or the first months of
1846. The Colleges Bill had passed, without a single important
amendment, and a Roman Catholic priest accepted the nomination of
Government, as president of one of the institutions. Some of the
prelates, too, were said to be favourable to the colleges, even as they
were then constituted, and the divisions supposed to exist among them
were imparting their acridity to the deepening distractions of the time,
when an event occurred--the advent of the Whigs to office--which broke
up the great confederacy on which the hopes of the nation were staked.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: The Repeal "Rent." The weekly contributions to the funds of
Conciliation Hall.--Ed.]

[Footnote 6: Moved by the Right Reverend Dr. Brown of Elphin; seconded
by the Right Reverend Dr. McNally of Clogher. Resolved: That the Most
Reverend Dr. Crolly be requested to reply to the letter received from
the Holy Father, stating that the instructions therein contained have
been received by the assembled prelates of Ireland with that degree of
profound respect, obedience and veneration that should ever be paid to
any document emanating from the Apostolic See, and that they all pledge
themselves to carry the spirit thereof into effect."

Dr. Crolly had previously explained what he considered true obedience to
the rescript. He writes in reference to a former one in 1839: "In
obedience to the injunction of the Holy See, I endeavoured to reclaim
those misguided clergymen;" adding that the present was "in order that I
should _more efficaciously_ admonish such priests or prelates as I
might find taking a prominent or imprudent part in political
proceedings."]

[Footnote 7: John Reynolds.]




CHAPTER IV

IMPRISONMENT OF O'BRIEN FOR CONTEMPT OF THE BRITISH COMMONS.--CONDUCT OF
THE ASSOCIATION.--DEPUTATION FROM THE '82 CLUB.--MR. O'CONNELL RETURNS
TO IRELAND.--DISCUSSIONS IN THE COMMITTEE.


Before proceeding to detail the circumstances which led to the
celebrated secession, it is essential to dispose of an episode in the
struggle, which, more than any other, stamped its impress on the acts
and feelings of that unfortunate period; I allude to the imprisonment,
by the House of Commons, of William Smith O'Brien. There is no act of
his life upon which there has been so much acrimonious criticism; none
on account of which he has been subjected to so much intemperate
misrepresentation. And yet, perhaps, his great career, fruitful in good
actions, never furnished a purer or more unselfish example of sound
judgment as well as intrepidity and devotion. The history of his
incarceration ranges over a great portion of the time which has been
already passed, and enters largely into the leading events, hereafter to
be related. A clear understanding of the whole--of Mr. O'Brien's
influencing motives and his tenacity of principle--would be impossible
without a distinct recital of the circumstances out of which his purpose
first grew, and which, to the end, controlled his resolution.

In the spring of 1845, the committee of the Association passed a vote to
the effect that the Parliamentary representatives, who were members of
that body, should withdraw from the British Parliament. It was proposed
by Mr. Davis and received Mr. O'Connell's entire approval. Though at
first sneered at, it had a stunning effect. The supercilious British
Commons, who would have answered the just remonstrance of the Irish
Repealers with a jeer, shrank from the consequences of legislating for
the country in the absence of the men, whose efforts, if present, they
would not hesitate to scoff at. The disturbing influence of the
resolution became at once perceptible, and the earliest means were taken
to bring the question to an issue. Mr. Hume, a parsimonious economist,
of niggard principle and grovelling sentiment, undertook the office of
coercing the Irish. He gave notice of a motion for a call of the House.
This man, a mean utilitarian, had been rejected by the country of his
birth and the country of his adoption, and found refuge in an Irish
constituency, that returned him without solicitation and without
expense. He repaid them and the country by a vulgar jest, and now
assumed the responsibility of their public prosecutor.

The Association heard his threat with calm indignation and resolved at
once to defy him. The great importance of the position in which it was
placed suggested the necessity of a deliberate consideration; first, of
the constitutional question at stake and, secondly, of the steps proper
to vindicate its own dignity and resolution. As on all such occasions, a
sub-committee was appointed to whom the question was referred. Mr.
O'Connell had to some extent formed an opinion favourable to the object
of the Association. He stated that he had considered the question in a
two-fold point of view.

First, "Whether the controlling power of the English House of Commons
over its members, which admittedly it possessed before the Act of Union,
was extended to the Irish portion of the members by that Act, there
being no express provision creating it?"

And secondly, "Whether even if the House possessed the power, it was
competent to enforce it, or, in other words, whether the Speaker's
warrant would receive Ireland?"

To report on these two questions, thus framed, the following gentlemen
were elected as a sub-committee: James O'Hea, Sir Colman O'Loghlen,
Robert Mullen, James O'Dowd and myself. Of that committee, each
approached his task with that instinctive bias, inseparable from ardent
minds, excited by a darling hope. They read the precedents, the cases,
the arguments and judgments applicable to their enquiry with the aid of
such a hope, and still they came to the reluctant decision that the
ground taken against the authority of the British Parliament was not
maintainable. With regard to the first branch they were unanimous. With
regard to the second, Sir Colman O'Loghlen alone entertained some
doubts. As chairman of the committee, I drew up a brief report,
embodying our opinion. One reason alone we thought conclusive, namely,
that the formidable jurisdiction claimed by the House of Commons was
indispensable to the unimpeded fulfilment of its functions, as a
coordinate branch of the supreme power and controlling authority of the
State. In its very danger and extravagance consisted its supremacy; for
it showed that it was only admitted from its overruling and
overmastering necessity. And as the Parliament was recognised in Ireland
in all things else we thought it would be absurd to deny it functions
indispensable to its vitality.

On handing in the report, I mentioned the doubts entertained by Sir
Colman O'Loghlen. Mr. O'Connell suggested that the report should be
deferred until he could consult Sir Colman. The suggestion was agreed
to, and time given for reconsideration. Mr. O'Connell himself examined
the question, he said, with great attention. He was assisted by Mr.
Clements in his researches, and at the end of the fortnight he came down
to the committee with a report of his own, distinctly and emphatically
contradicting ours, upon both branches of the case. He delivered it to
the chairman (Mr. S. O'Brien), with exultation, as a great
constitutional discovery of unspeakable importance to the liberties of
Ireland. The committee received it in the same spirit. I ventured to
question the soundness of his opinion, and maintain my own, it was
considered a daring thing to do in those times; but the question seemed
to me so clear that I could not abandon my views without treachery to my
conviction. The discussion was very short, and ended in personality,
wherein he insinuated something about unworthy motives. No scene of my
life made the same impression on me. I felt keenly his reproaches, but
still more keenly the impolicy and imprudence of the step into which the
country was precipitated. I requested that the question should be again
postponed, and the opinion of some eminent men outside the Association
taken. I was overruled, and even laughed at--it was "doubting Mr.
O'Connell." Mr. O'Connell said, "I'll test this question '_meo
periculo_.'" The resolution passed amid cheers, and was recorded next
day amid the louder and more vehement cheers of the Association. The
country re-echoed the boast, and the House of Commons was, by a formal
and solemn vote of the entire nation, set at defiance. The conflict was
pre-arranged, even to its minute details. Mr. O'Brien was to proceed to
London, where disobedience would be more marked and decisive; and Mr.
John O'Connell was to remain in Ireland, where he could take advantage
of an additional obstacle to the exercise of its authority to the House.
So the matter stood when Mr. Hume, through what motive it is not easy to
see, neglected or abandoned his notice. The country regarded this as a
confession of weakness by the House, and gloried in a new triumph
achieved by the genius of Mr. O'Connell. He himself thought he had found
a great and solid basis for future action, and hinted at the prospect of
being able to raise upon it a parliamentary structure, having
imprescriptible and indefeasible authority, and only requiring the
sanction of the crown.

A short time after the withdrawal of Mr. Hume's motion, the question was
again raised in another form. The chairman of the Committee of Selection
for Railways addressed a circular, among others, to Messrs. S. O'Brien
and John O'Connell, requiring their attendance at the selection of
special Railway Committees. The correspondent of the _Freeman's
Journal_, thus writes in forwarding their replies:--

    _London, Monday, June 30._

    "The authority of the British Senate over Irish representatives
    is now fairly placed at issue. By my letter of yesterday
    evening, you were apprised of the determination of Smith O'Brien
    and John O'Connell, to refuse to comply with the summons of the
    parliamentary selection committee.

    "The course I suggested as that which it was probable would be
    adopted, has been since finally resolved upon, and in part
    carried into execution. John O'Connell, for the purpose of
    taking the chances of a judgment in the Irish court, will not
    forward his answer till he shall have reached Ireland. Smith
    O'Brien delivered his reply to the clerk of the House of Commons
    this day, at one o'clock."

Here follows Mr. O'Brien's letter:--

    OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE CLUB, PALL-MALL.

    "_June 30, 1845._

    "Sir.--I had the honour of receiving on Saturday afternoon a
    letter dated 28th June, and signed 'Henry Creed,' to the
    following effect: 'I am directed by the committee of selection
    to inform you that your name is on the list for which members
    will be selected to serve on the railway committees, which will
    commence their sittings in the week beginning Monday, the 14th
    July, during which week it will be necessary for you to be in
    attendance, for the purpose of serving, if requested, on a
    railway committee.'

    "I trust that the committee of selection will not think that I
    am prompted by any feeling of disrespect towards them, or
    towards the House of Commons, when I inform them that it is my
    intention not to serve on any committees except such as may be
    appointed with reference to the affairs of Ireland.

    "I accepted a seat in the House of Commons, in the hope of
    being thereby enabled to assist in improving the condition of
    the land of my birth. So long as I continued to believe that I
    could serve Ireland effectually in the House of Commons, I
    shrank from none of the labours which are connected with the
    varied functions of that assembly. During twelve years I
    attended Parliament with an assiduity of which I might feel
    disposed to boast, if the time so consumed by the House and by
    myself had been productive of results useful to my native
    country.

    "Experience and observation at length forced upon my mind the
    conviction that the British Parliament is incompetent through
    want of knowledge, if not, through want of inclination, to
    legislate wisely for Ireland, and that our national interests
    can be protected and fostered only through the instrumentality
    of an Irish legislature.

    "Since this conviction has established itself in my mind I have
    felt persuaded that the labours of the Irish members, though of
    little avail in the British Parliament, might, if applied in
    Ireland with prudence and energy, be effectual in obtaining for
    the Irish people their national rights.

    "I have reason to believe that in this opinion a very large
    majority of my constituents concur. To them alone I hold myself
    responsible for the performance of my parliamentary duty. If
    they had disapproved of my continued absence from the House of
    Commons, I should have felt it my duty to have withdrawn from
    the representation of the county of Limerick; but I have the
    satisfaction of thinking that I not only consult the interests,
    but also comply with the wishes of my constituents in declining
    to engage in the struggles of English party, or to involve
    myself in the details of English legislation.

    "While such have been the general impressions under which I have
    absented myself during nearly two years from the House of
    Commons, I yet do not feel myself at liberty to forego whatever
    power of resistance to the progress of pernicious legislation my
    office of representative may confer upon me. Upon the present
    occasion, I have come to London for the purpose of endeavouring
    to induce the House of Commons, or rather the Government, who
    appear to command the opinions of a large majority of the House,
    to modify some of the Irish measures now before Parliament in
    such a manner as to render them beneficial, instead of
    injurious, to Ireland.

    "Desiring that none but the representatives of the Irish nation
    should legislate for Ireland, we have no wish to intermeddle
    with the affairs of England, or Scotland, except in so far as
    they may be connected with the interest of Ireland or with the
    general policy of the empire.

    "In obedience to this principle I have abstained from voting on
    English and Scotch questions of a local nature, and the same
    motive now induces me to decline attendance on committees on any
    private bills, except such as relate to Ireland.

    "I am prepared to abide with cheerfulness the personal
    consequences which may result from the course of conduct which I
    feel it my duty to adopt.

    "I speak with great diffidence upon any question of a legal
    kind, but I am supported by very high professional authority
    when I suggest to the committee that no power was delegated to
    the House of Commons by the Act of Union, or by subsequent
    statutes, to compel to attendance Irish members on the
    deliberations of the British Parliament. Neither do I find that
    any authority has been given by statutory enactment to the House
    (except in the case of election petitions) to enforce the
    attendance of members upon committees.

    "I refrain, however, from arguing legal questions which may be
    raised before another tribunal, in case it should become
    necessary and advisable to appeal from the decision of the House
    of Commons to the courts of judicature, and conclude by assuring
    the committee that I take the course which I propose to
    adopt, not from any desire to defy the just authority of the
    House of Commons, but in obedience to my sense of the duty which
    I owe to my constituents and my country.

    "I have the honour to be, your obedient servant,

    "WILLIAM S. O'BRIEN.

    "To the Chairman of the Committee of Selection."

[Illustration: Thomas Devin Reilly]

Mr. O'Connell's letter bears date on the next day, as announced in the
correspondent's notice, because it was intended it should not be
delivered until the honourable gentleman was beyond the pale of English
jurisdiction.

    "BRITISH HOTEL, JERMYN STREET,

    8 a.m., _July 1st._

    "Sir.--I have to acknowledge the receipt of a notification by
    order of your committee, to the effect that my attendance in
    Parliament will be required during the week beginning Monday,
    14th July, for the purpose of serving, if chosen, on a
    parliamentary committee.

    "With every respect to you, Sir, and the gentlemen of your
    committee, I absolutely decline attending.

    "I, like some others, came to London the first time this session
    about a fortnight ago to remonstrate against and endeavour to
    resist the plan of infidel education which the Government are
    forcing upon Ireland. We had not, nor for some years have had,
    the slightest hope of obtaining any measure of good from a
    foreign parliament; but we came against our better judgment,
    that it might not be said we had not gone all lengths to
    endeavour to deter the Government from a scheme so redolent of
    political corruption, social profligacy and religious
    infidelity.

    "We came armed with multitudinous petitions of the people, and
    the strong, unanimous and most decided protest from our revered
    prelacy and clergy.

    "We were of course mocked at, derided and refused; but, what is
    of infinitely more consequence, the voice of our prelates and of
    the faithful people of Ireland have been treated with utter
    contempt--even Irish Catholics (yielding to the unwholesome
    influences around them) joining in the contemptuous refusal.

    "Under these circumstances, Sir, I certainly will not suffer
    that portion of the people of Ireland who have entrusted their
    representation to my charge to be further mocked at and insulted
    in my person. I go to where I can best discharge my duty to them
    and to Ireland--_in Ireland_. There struggling, with doubtless
    as little ability, but with more energy and, if possible, more
    whole-hearted devotion than ever, to put an end to the present
    degradation of my country and obtain for her that which can
    alone ensure protection to her interests, relief to her many
    wants, and peace, freedom and happiness to her long oppressed
    and long enduring people,

    "I have the honour to be, Sir,

    "Your obedient servant,

    "JOHN O'CONNELL.

    "To the Chairman of the Committee of Selection."

These documents were entered on the minutes of the Association, and
remained on its records with the original resolution. But no more was
done in the matter until the beginning of April, 1846.

Mr. O'Connell and his son were in London, and Mr. O'Brien remained in
Ireland. They had been all summoned to attend on committees. When Mr.
O'Brien reached London, he found that the Messrs. O'Connell, without any
previous communication with him or with the Association, and without
reference to the solemn resolution, to the contrary, of that body, were
acting on committees. This deeply disappointed and mortified him, and he
at once resolved to remain faithful, at all risks, and though he stood
alone, to the obligation which he had contracted with the sanction and
approval of his country. Whatever may be the temper and resolution of
the House of Commons, had it been resisted by the unbroken strength of
the Association, it felt confident of its power to crush Mr. O'Brien
alone, separate from, nay, abandoned by, the great leader of the Irish
people. It must be acknowledged that the course pursued by the Commons
was considerate and moderate. A principle involving their liberty of
action was in issue; to vindicate it was indispensable; but finding
themselves only opposed by a single man, of all those who had provoked
the encounter, they proceeded with caution and forbearance. They
forewarned, counselled and remonstrated during the time that intervened;
and several members of the House, including Mr. O'Connell, urged Mr.
O'Brien to give way. He refused, determinedly, and it may be supposed
not the less sternly, when he found, among those who advised him to
falsify his solemn promise, the man upon whose authority and through
whose influence he had made it. The result was, his arrest and
imprisonment, for disobedience to the House. Circumstances more trying
never beset the fortitude of a great man. Personal liberty was his
slightest loss. The sneers of his enemies, the pity of his personal, and
the desertion of his political, friends poisoned[A] the very air of the
miserable cell to which he was consigned, and what completed his agony
was a notion that he had been abandoned by his country.

During the early part of his imprisonment, a motion was made questioning
the authority of the House. In the course of the discussion, Sir Thomas
Wilde, then Attorney-General, dared any constitutional lawyer to impugn
the jurisdiction assumed by the House. Every member felt that the
challenge was offered to Mr. O'Connell, who replied as follows:--

    "I am sure that the House will give credit to my assurance that
    I should not rise to advocate the cause of my honourable friend,
    if I thought he had had the slightest intention of being
    disrespectful towards the House. It has not been his intention
    to be guilty of any contempt towards it: he thought he was
    entitled to make the exception to which he adheres. He has acted
    from a strong sense of duty, and I am sorry to see it is a sense
    of duty he is not likely to give up."

I add to this an extract from his speech delivered at the Corn Exchange,
when, in spite of the most earnest remonstrance, the Association offered
its defiance in solemn form to the British Parliament.

    "Mr. O'Connell rose amid loud cheers, and said:--Our usual
    course of proceeding in this hall is to commence with handing in
    money, and then to go on with business of inferior importance,
    the business of making speeches (hear! hear! and laughter); but
    among the passing events of the day, there is one of such signal
    importance, that I am sure you will readily admit that I am
    right when I claim for it, on the present occasion, a right of
    precedence over any donation or subscription, no matter from
    what quarter they may come. The matter I allude to is a menace
    held out for the intimidation (as it is supposed) of the Irish
    members who are given to understand that there is about to be a
    call of the House, and that it is intended that the Speaker's
    warrant shall issue to compel them to go over to London. Now,
    sir, I think it right to apprise the Association and the country
    that, having considered this question attentively, I have made
    up my mind that the Speaker has no constitutional authority
    whatever to issue any such warrant."

But what pained Mr. O'Brien the deepest was the apparent coldness,
apathy or cowardice of the Irish people. Among them, and them only, he
calculated an enthusiastic sustainment. But those who felt the deepest
in his regard were constrained by the responsibility of coming to an
open rupture with Mr. O'Connell, at a time when union in the ranks of
the Association was indispensable to even partial success. A vote was
proposed to the committee, approving of Mr. O'Brien's act, and pledging
the Association to an identification with the principle by which his
conduct was governed. That vote was resisted by the whole of Mr.
O'Connell's family, and personal friends and by all the pensioners and
employes of the body. It was carried, nevertheless. But a motion to
consult Mr. O'Connell as to its legality was passed, and the resolution
was transmitted to him accordingly. His reply was an urgent remonstrance
against the resolution on the ground of illegality. Meantime,
representations were made that a certain party in the Association,
intolerant of Mr. O'Connell's sway, were using that occasion to
undermine his authority and overthrow his power. The great
responsibility of causing disunion determined the supporters of the
resolution to compromise with its opponents, and it was finally shaped
thus:--

    "Resolved, That having learned with deep regret, that by a
    resolution of the House of Commons the country has been deprived
    of the eminent services of Mr. William Smith O'Brien, and that
    illustrious member of this Association himself committed to
    prison, we cannot allow this opportunity to pass without
    conveying to him the assurance of our undiminished confidence in
    his integrity, patriotism and personal courage, and our
    admiration for the high sense of duty and purity of purpose
    which prompted him to risk his personal liberty in assertion of
    a principle which he believed to be inherent in the constitution
    of his country."

It was again, in its modified form, transmitted to Mr. O'Connell, and
returned with his disapprobation. Captain Broderick read a letter from
him, to that effect, at a meeting of the committee, suddenly summoned on
Monday, the 4th of May, a few hours only previous to the public meeting
of the Association, deprecating the passing of the resolution in any
form. The present writer was the proposer of the resolution, and,
feeling that he had already made too great a compromise, he refused to
accede to this last request of Mr. O'Connell. The resolution was
proposed and adopted with acclamation, and a letter was read from Mr.
O'Connell, by Mr. Ray, in which he stated that the resolution did not go
far enough.

In the provinces, the timid policy of the Association was decried with
bitterness, and the men who struggled, against great odds, to identify
the whole island with Mr. O'Brien, and pledge it to sustain him to the
last, were subjected to the most virulent denunciations. Because the
compromised resolution was moved, seconded, and spoken to by them, the
whole country regarded them as the betrayers of their own avowed chief,
and the violence with which they were attacked was unmeasured and
unscrupulous.

They made no reply. No unjust aspersions from a people in ignorance of
the resistance offered to them, and the motives that influenced them,
could induce them to explain the position they had taken. But when they
saw while they were subjected to the storm that Mr. O'Connell's friends,
on the authority of his published letter, took credit for neutrality,
they resolved once more to test the question in a body, whose
proceedings were of a more private character, and where the most marked
difference of opinion could lead to no fatal result--the Eighty-Two
Club. Mr. O'Connell was the president of this club, and Mr. O'Brien one
of its vice-presidents. A meeting was called. The attendance was
unusually large. Men who had never before, and have never since,
appeared at its meetings, were present. The question proposed was that
an address be presented to Mr. O'Brien, in which his principles and his
conduct would be fully recognised, approved of and adopted. This led to
a discussion that lasted two days, but the motion was carried in the
end by a majority of two to one. One man, and one only, unconnected with
Mr. O'Connell, either by personal friendship or personal obligations,
voted against the resolution. That man is Sir Colman O'Loghlen. His name
is mentioned, because he was the only member of the minority whose
motives could be regarded as unquestionable. For the rest, the minority
was composed of Mr. O'Connell's sons and relatives, with Mr. Ray and Mr.
Crean, officers of the Association, and one or two members whom he had
caused to be returned to Parliament, amounting to twelve. A committee
was appointed to prepare the address and resolutions, which were written
by John Mitchel, and adopted by the committee without the change of a
word. They also determined that the address should be adopted in its
integrity by the club, or not at all. When it was proposed, objection
was again taken to its principle, on the ground that it would commit the
club, and involve it in a hopeless conflict with the House of Commons
which of itself, it was averred, would be a misdemeanour at common law.
The proposition was eminently absurd in common sense, as well as law,
but it was sustained by the practised ingenuity and great skill of Mr.
O'Hea, who, to do him justice, seemed deeply to feel the hopelessness
and shamefulness of the task that was assigned him. But no other
argument could prevail, and this appeal to the fears or selfishness of
its wealthiest members was had recourse to in consequence of the utter
poverty of reason and argument, which could otherwise be presented
against the principle of the address. But such an obligation led to a
novel difficulty and bitterer conflict. A discussion involving
principles of the greatest moment narrowed into a technical disquisition
of abstract law. Mr. O'Hea was driven from his position by the unanimous
and unqualified opinion of every barrister present, and even by his own
silence, when dared to allow the address to pass in the negative, and
assume the responsibility of its rejection on the avowed ground of his
legal opinion, as expressed to the meeting. The address was adopted by a
greater majority than that which had confirmed the principle on the
previous day, and a deputation was appointed to present it to Mr.
O'Brien in his prison.

The members of that deputation, who proceeded to fulfil their mission,
were William Bryan, of Raheny Lodge; John Mitchel, Richard O'Gorman,
Thomas Francis Meagher and the present writer. They were accompanied by
Terence Bellew MacManus and John Pigot, who joined them in London. They
waited on Mr. O'Connell, as the president of the club, produced the
address and requested he would proceed with them to present it. He
admitted, without question, that as it was adopted by so very large and
influential a majority, he was bound to do so. But he added that Mr.
O'Brien refused to receive a visit from him, owing to the part he had
taken, and further said, if Mr. O'Brien expressed a wish to see him,
that he would accompany us. The deputation on their way to the House of
Commons consulted for a moment, and, as well as I remember, Doctor Gray
and some others were present: the result was a determination to present
the address without Mr. O'Connell, feeling that an explanation between
him and Mr. O'Brien, could not fail to lead to unpleasant
recriminations, if not to more serious differences. The address and
answer were as follows:--

    "TO WILLIAM SMITH O'BRIEN, ESQ.

    "RESPECTED VICE-PRESIDENT AND BROTHER.

    "Heartily approving of the course you have taken in refusing to
    devote to the concerns of another people any of the time which
    your own constituents and countrymen feel to be of so much value
    to them, we, your brethren of the '82 Club, take this occasion
    of recording our increased confidence in, and esteem for you,
    personally and politically, and our determination to sustain and
    stand by you in asserting the right of Ireland to the
    undistracted labours of our own representatives in Parliament.

    "We, sir, like yourself, have long since 'abandoned for ever all
    hope of obtaining wise and beneficial legislation for Ireland
    from the Imperial Parliament'; nor would such legislation, even
    if attainable, satisfy our aspirations. We are confederated
    together in the '82 Club upon the plain ground that no body of
    men ought to have power to make laws binding this kingdom, save
    the Monarch, Lords, and Commons of Ireland. From that principle
    we shall never depart, and with God's help it shall soon find
    recognition by a parliament of our own.

    "Upon the mode in which the House of Commons has thought fit to
    exercise the privilege it asserts in the present instance--upon
    the personal discourtesy which has marked all the late
    proceedings in your regard, we shall make but one comment, that
    every insult to you is felt as an insult to us and to the people
    of Ireland.

    "It would be idle and out of place to offer condolence to you,
    confined in an English prison for such an offence. We
    congratulate you that you have made yourself the champion of
    your country's rights, and submitted to ignominy for a cause
    which you and we know shall one day triumph.

    "(Signed)

    "COLMAN M. O'LOGHLEN, Vice-President, Chairman.


    "May 9th, 1846."

    "BROTHERS OF THE '82 CLUB.--I receive this address with pride
    and satisfaction.

    "I recognise in the '82 Club a brotherhood of patriots, who have
    volunteered to take the foremost place in contending for the
    liberties of Ireland, and who may vie, in regard of ability,
    integrity and sincerity of purpose, with any political
    association, consisting of equal numbers, which has ever been
    united in voluntary confederation.

    "The unqualified approval accorded to my conduct by such a body
    justifies me in entertaining a sentiment of honourable pride,
    which I am not ashamed to avow.

    "Nor shall I attempt to disguise the satisfaction with which I
    receive this address.

    "If you had approached me with language of condolence, I could
    scarcely have dissembled my grief and disappointment; but you
    have justly felt that such language would be unsuited to the
    occasion, and unworthy both of yourselves and of me.

    "On the contrary, you _congratulate_ me upon being subjected to
    reproach and indignity for having aspired to vindicate the
    rights of my native land; you deem, as I deem, that to suffer
    for Ireland is a privilege rather than a penalty.

    "In acknowledging your address, I shall not dwell upon the many
    important considerations which are involved in my present
    contest with the House of Commons. I cannot but think, indeed,
    that the constitutional questions at issue are of the highest
    moment, not alone to the Irish people, but also to each member
    of the legislature, and to every parliamentary elector in the
    United Kingdom. Upon the present occasion, however, I am
    contented to waive all reference to collateral issues, and to
    justify my conduct upon the simple ground upon which it has
    received your approval--namely, that until a domestic
    legislature shall be obtained for Ireland, my own country
    demands my undivided exertions.

    "Be assured that those exertions will not be withheld so long as
    life and liberty remain to me, until Ireland shall again _fiat_
    the Declaration of 1782: 'That no body of men is entitled to
    make laws to bind the Irish nation save only the Monarch, the
    Lords, and the Commons of Ireland.'"

On my way home I was invited to address a public meeting of Repealers in
Liverpool. I accepted the invitation, and in the course of my
observations, emphatically repudiated all compromise on the subject of
my country's deliverance. I disclaimed the idea that any concessions,
any equalization with England in political franchises, any amelioration
of our political or social condition, could ever be accepted by Ireland
in compromise of her inalienable independence. When I arrived in Dublin,
I attended the Association, and, happening to read a letter from the
Rev. Mr. Walshe, of Clonmel, couched in the warmest terms of admiration
of Mr. O'Brien's purity and heroism, the cowardice or jealousy of a
certain party in the Hall found expression through its proper organs,
and I was called to order in the name of the law. A violation of law to
_praise_ William Smith O'Brien! The chairman decided it was. To such
decision I scorned to submit, and I read the letter to the end, amidst
the most enthusiastic cheers of the audience. I was proceeding to read
another letter from another clergyman of the same town, written in a
very different spirit, when I was besought to withhold it, and entreated
not to read it. I complied. It is but fair to add here that on the
Saturday previous, an article was published in the _Nation_, some
expressions of which Mr. O'Connell considered personally insulting.

Whether Mr. O'Connell was influenced by one or all of these occurrences,
cannot be affirmed here. But he proceeded to Ireland in the course of
the week, and suddenly called a meeting of the Committee of the
Association, before which he arraigned us of discourtesy to him in
London, found fault with the meeting at Liverpool, accused the _Nation_
of attacking him, and, finally, expressed his unequivocal disapprobation
of my resistance to the order of the chairman in the Hall. The
deputation explained their conduct in London, and the motives that
governed them, with which he appeared to be satisfied. All connection
with the proceeding in Liverpool with which he took offence, was
disclaimed, and, finally, Mr. Duffy satisfied him that no offence was
meant him in the _Nation_, and that the passage of which he complained
had no reference to him.

The discussion was a long and, to some extent, an angry one. It ended,
however, as we thought, amicably. Mr. O'Connell had proposed at the
outset two objects, namely, to express a solemn condemnation of the
proceedings in Liverpool, and to expel the _Nation_ from the
Association. The rule of the Association was to send to every locality,
at the expense of the body, whatever papers the subscribers of a
certain sum desired. There were then three other weekly papers in
Dublin, The _Register_, the _Freeman_, and the _Old Irelander_. The
_Nation_ had a circulation nearly equal to that of all the others. Its
expulsion from the Association would at once deprive it of all the
circulation it had through its agency, thus involving a very serious
pecuniary loss to Mr. Duffy.

The two positions were abandoned, and the Committee separated on
amicable terms. Another subject of importance was under discussion. This
was, what suitable mark of national respect should be offered to Mr.
O'Brien; and it was proposed that the committee should re-assemble on
the following day (Sunday), at two o'clock. At the second meeting the
disagreeable topics of the former evening were revived and discussed in
a more acrimonious spirit and tone. The Committee was differently
composed, most of the treasurers connected with the Committee being
present, and most of the professional men, who attended on Saturday,
being absent, Mr. O'Connell saw his advantage, or those under whose
guidance he unfortunately was, saw it, and urged him on. He clearly had
a majority. But having satisfied himself he could succeed, with a
resolution refusing to circulate the _Nation_, he generously conceded
the whole matter; and once more the Committee separated on good terms.

It was hoped that, as the concession was entirely voluntary, Mr.
O'Connell would be content. This was a vain hope. On the next day, he
referred to the subject in terms of unmitigated animosity; and on
Tuesday the resolution of exclusion, in effect, though not formally,
passed in the absence of most of those who were well known to be opposed
to it.

One word of concession would have saved the _Nation_ at this juncture;
but that one word would not be written, had the consequence of refusal
been the loss of every subscriber it had in the world. It maintained its
high position in face of the two despotisms which had combined to crush
it. The resolution of the Association was not formally recorded, but it
remained in readiness to be re-asserted as soon as the trial in the
Queen's Bench would be over.

That trial was for the celebrated railroad article, written by John
Mitchel. When the article first appeared, Mr. O'Connell came to the
_Nation_ office. He seated himself familiarly, and, seeing all its
contributors around him, he said: "I came to complain of this article."
He then read through until where certain principles, previously
promulgated, were recommended to Repeal wardens as the catechism they
should teach. "I do not object," said he, "to your principles; but I
object to your coupling them with the duties of Repeal wardens who are
the officers of the Association." Mr. Duffy promised, at once, to
explain the matter, to Mr. O'Connell's satisfaction, in the next number.
He did so accordingly, and no more was said of it until after the
prosecution was commenced.

On the 17th of June, Mr. Duffy was placed at the bar, on an information
or indictment setting forth the entire of the obnoxious article. The
Government was vehement and imperative, and the Bench constitutionally
jealous of the law. The prosecution was conducted with malevolent
ability, and the court charged, with pious zeal, for the crown. Robert
Holmes was counsel for the accused and, in an impassioned speech, on
every word of which was stamped the impress of originality, vigour and
beauty, vindicated not the "liberty of the press," but the truth of the
startling propositions Mr. Mitchel had propounded.

In the Hall, the speech was regarded as triumphant for the country, but
conclusive against Mr. Duffy. It was said that for sake of his client he
should confuse, confound and deny. The fact, however, justified the
advocate. When Mr. Mitchel first promulgated his principles, they grated
strongly on the public ear. Men openly pronounced the doctrines
pernicious and bloody. But the veteran of the bar, speaking in the
spirit of the more glorious times he remembered, denounced as a slave
and a toward any one who thought them too strong for the occasion on
which they were used, and the provocation to which they applied. For a
brief moment he awoke in other hearts the spirit that lived in his own.
The jury refused to convict, and were discharged. But the prosecution in
which the Attorney-General failed, was transferred before a more loyal
tribunal, and Mr. Duffy was condemned by the judgment of _Conciliation_
Hall; a judgment of which something remains to be said hereafter.

It has been stated that the subject of testifying the respect of the
_Nation_ for its chivalrous advocate, after his release from the prison
of the House of Commons--he was discharged without compromise or
submission on the 26th of May--was under discussion.

A public and triumphal entry was determined on. But Mr. Smith O'Brien,
desirous that the State prisoners of 1844 should be participators in
any tribute of respect offered to him, requested that the 6th of
September, the day of their release from prison, should be fixed on for
a public triumph, in which all alike could share.

[Illustration: John Mitchell]

Mr. O'Brien passed through the metropolis quietly on his way home; but
in Limerick and Newcastle was received by hundreds of thousands with
boundless joy. When he returned to town, it was to be expelled from that
body to which he, of all living men, gave most firmness, and for which
he alone acquired most respect. In the events which followed, the public
dinner was forgotten.

It is now time to recur to those events, some of which at least range
behind those already detailed--to which the following preliminary may be
necessary. Early in June, a meeting was held at Lord John Russell's,
when the minister-expectant explained the grounds on which he claimed
the support of the entire Liberal Party. The English Liberals, generally
and enthusiastically, acquiesced. The correspondent of the _Evening
Mail_, writing from London, stated that Mr. O'Connell added to his
adhesion, a voluntary promise to sink the cause of Repeal provided
measures of a truly liberal character were carried into effect. He,
moreover, said that he never meant more by Repeal than a thorough
identification of the two countries. The _Nation_ indignantly repelled
the insinuations of the correspondence, and pronounced it a lie. Mr.
O'Connell and his friends passed the _Mail_ by unnoticed, but bestowed
on the _Nation_ their measureless wrath. It was never afterwards
forgiven.




CHAPTER V

DEFEAT OF PEEL.--ACCESSION or THE WHIGS.--MR. O'CONNELL'S
COURSE.--DEBATES IN CONCILIATION HALL.--MR. O'CONNELL DENOUNCES THE
YOUNG IRELAND PARTY.--CONTINUED DEBATES.--QUESTIONS AT ISSUE.--PHYSICAL
FORCE.--THE SECESSION.--WHIG ALLIANCE.--DUBLIN REMONSTRANCE.--FORMATION
OF THE CONFEDERATION, ITS CAREER.--MR. O'CONNELL'S DEATH.--CLOSE OF THE
YEAR 1847.


On the 25th of June, Sir Robert Peel was defeated in the House of
Commons on a motion that the Irish Coercion Bill be read a second time.

The majority against him was seventy-three, and was composed of the Whig
party, the extreme Conservatives, the ultra-Radicals and Irish
Repealers. In ten days after, Lord John Russell assumed the seals of
office. During the preliminary arrangements that led to Peel's defeat,
there was much coquetting between the Whig and Irish leaders. Alarmed by
this startling aspect of affairs, and somewhat, perhaps, by the
uncontradicted correspondence of the _Mail_, heretofore alluded to, Mr.
Meagher, in the midst of vociferous cheering, announced from the tribune
of Conciliation Hall, "that Irish Repealers would teach an honest lesson
to the Whigs." This took place on the 15th of June. A short discussion
followed, in which Messrs. Mitchel, O'Gorman and Barry took part,
denouncing in the strongest language all idea of compromise with the
Whigs. On the next day of meeting (June 22nd) a letter was read from Mr.
O'Connell, expressing "the bitterest regret at the efforts being made
by some of their juvenile members to create dissension in the
Association." "To silence all unworthy cavilling," he desired that the
solemn pledge of the Rotunda be read after his letter, and copies
thereof posted in the Hall. This letter was the signal for an attack on
the Seceders by James Fitzpatrick, who is now enjoying his reward in
shape of a lucrative office on the coast of Africa. Another discussion
followed, in which Messrs. Mitchel, Barry, O'Gorman and myself repelled
the charge urged against us by Lord John Russell, to the effect that we
were separatists.

The discussion which followed was an angry one. Fierce denunciations
against the Whigs proceeded from the Seceders, which were answered by
the Old Irelanders, as they called themselves, with clap-trap allusions
to the name and fame of the "Liberator." The audience were indisposed to
be duped, and so strong and general was the aversion to a Whig
compromise, that Mr. D. O'Connell, jun. was denied a hearing, and even
the Secretary found it difficult to command a moment's attention.

The next letter from Mr. O'Connell, was written after the accession of
the Whigs. It, too, evidently bore the impress of that controlling fact.
The writer enumerated twelve measures (excluding Repeal) "without which
no British minister should dream of bidding for the people of Ireland."
On the whole, the letter, which was long and elaborate, was an
unmistakable though very guarded advice to give another trial to the
Whigs. Mr. O'Brien, in moving that it be inserted on the minutes,
pressed his conviction that the "millions would never abandon Repeal."
He concluded by reading a resolution, pro posed in 1842 and seconded by
Mr. O'Connell himself, to the effect that the Whigs were as inimical to
Repeal as the Tories; and that no honest Repealer could vote for a Whig
representative. Mr. O'Brien, on this occasion, took a wrong course.
Instead of moving that the letter be inserted on the minutes, he should
have moved its rejection, as containing doctrines subversive of
principle and inconsistent with the solemn pledges of the nation. He
was, no doubt, influenced by a desire to preserve unanimity; but the
unanimity which is based on the disruption of most binding obligations
is weaker and more fatal than any division. One paramount advantage
would result from at once joining issue with Mr. O'Connell--the question
would be placed on its true ground, and the preposterous folly of the
physical and moral force abstractions would never have been heard of.

Mr. O'Connell appeared in Conciliation Hall on Monday, the 6th of July.
He stated that his object was to ascertain the state of the registries,
so as to resist the return of the anti-Repealers in any of the towns
where a vacancy was likely to occur. But he added, "I will give no
vexatious opposition." Here a voice cried "Dungarvan," with significant
emphasis, a question Mr. O'Connell evaded with his usual dexterity. Four
seats were then actually vacant; Dungarvan, Drogheda, Dundalk and
Roscommon county. In the three former, there were clear majorities in
favour of Repeal. That question admitted of no earthly doubt. It had
been long before enquired into, and assurances the most unequivocal were
transmitted to the Association. On motion of Mr. O'Connell, the
question was referred to the committee.

Daniel O'Connell, jun., was a candidate for Dundalk, where a public
dinner was given him on the 7th. His father attended, and said, "_I tell
you there is another experiment to be made, in which every honest and
rational man, of every party, will join._" Similar doctrines were to be
found in his former letter and speech, above referred to; and the other
members of the Association awoke to a sense of the danger that
threatened the body. Meantime, the Dungarvan committee proceeded with
its labours. A deputation from that town waited on them--the parish
priest and two others. They paid their first visit, however, to the
Secretary, at the Castle. They found it as easy to satisfy the
committee, or its majority, as the Secretary found it to satisfy
themselves. They advised there should be no opposition given to Mr.
Shiel on these two grounds: First, because success was then impossible,
owing to the shortness of the time for preparation. And secondly,
because a failure then would endanger the cause at the general election
which was to take place in a few months. The sincerity of these reasons
was tested by the facts, that, at the general election, the same parish
priest stood at the hustings to propose and sustain the same official of
the Whigs, insolently proclaiming his steadfastness in O'Connell's
_glorious principles_, while he was huckstering away the honour and
independence of his country; and that at that general election, when the
people of Dungarvan were more openly betrayed and trafficked on by John
O'Connell, and when they had to contend against the treachery of the
priest, the treachery of the Association and the whole strength of the
Whigs, they were only defeated in their opposition to Mr. Shiel by three
votes. But, sincere or not, absurd or not, they were conclusive with the
committee, or its chairman, who reported that it was not advisable to
oppose Mr. Shiel, and this report was published just two days after Mr.
Shiel had been returned unopposed.

No wonder that the actual return of Mr. Shiel, which the committee was
charged to resist, had escaped its vigilance; for the celebrated Peace
Resolutions were, at the same time, under discussion, and produced
simultaneously with the Dungarvan report. Mr. Mitchel, Mr. O'Gorman and
Mr. Meagher, who attended the committee, vainly remonstrated against the
betrayal of Dungarvan, as well as the Peace Resolutions. They saw that
the real object of the resolutions was to blind the country to the other
important question, whether the Irish constituencies were to be
transferred once more to Whig placemen; and they confined their
opposition principally to the Dungarvan case. It must be admitted, too,
that the falsehood involved in the Peace Resolutions, escaped their
attention in the first instance; and they were under the impression that
the pledge they contained extended no farther than the action of the
Association itself was concerned. On consideration, they found it was of
far wider scope, and would engage them to a false principle, embracing
all men, all countries and all tunes; and having stated this at the
public meeting of the Association, they allowed the resolutions to pass
without further opposition.

The original resolution on which the Association was framed is this:--

    "The total disclaimer of, and absence from, all physical force,
    violence or breach of the law."

The resolution, reported on the 13th of July, 1846, is as follows:--

    "That, to promote political amelioration, peaceable means alone
    should be used, to the exclusion of all others, save those that
    are peaceful, legal and constitutional."

Sometimes, it has been averred lately that these two resolutions are, in
principle and effect, the same. Mr. O'Connell himself declared the
latter was introduced by him, "_to draw a line of demarcation between
Old and Young Ireland_." Indeed, if there were no distinction, the
introduction would be eminently absurd as well as pernicious. And if
they be different, as essentially they are, there must be some strong
justification for the adoption of the latter.

But before proceeding to this enquiry, it may not be amiss to point out
the exact distinction between the original and the new resolution. The
former embraced a rule of action whereby the members of the Association
engaged their faith and honour to each other and the country that they
would not use its agency to cause or promote physical force or violence
of any kind, or commit one another to any act of illegality. But it went
no farther--it enunciated no moral dogma--a rule of conscience rather
than a pledge of conduct such as the other--and it claimed no sacrifice
of one's own convictions. As a mutual guarantee, it was not only just
but essential to the perfect safety of the Association.

On the other hand, the new resolution excluded the question of practical
action altogether. Neither in itself nor in its preamble was there an
averment, or even an assumption of its necessity, as a rule of guidance.
It was a mere abstract opinion, utterly irrespective of the object or
conduct of the Association, and only applicable as a test of certain
speculative theories. But not alone was it inapplicable and
preposterous; it was utterly untrue: at least, there are many men who
could not subscribe to it without, according to their own convictions,
being guilty of a lie. Supposing, however, that the seceders had
attempted to violate the old constitution of the confederacy, it may be
argued that Mr. O'Connell would be justified in preparing the most
stringent tests for the purpose of restraining them. But no such attempt
was ever made; no one proposed in the Association, no one hinted outside
it, that it ought to violate one of its rules. No one complained of
these rules, or said they ought to be changed, modified or, to the least
extent, relaxed. Neither directly nor indirectly, openly nor covertly,
was there a word spoken, nor an act done, nor a suggestion offered to
that effect. The resolution was, therefore, uncalled for and
unnecessary, as it was unsound and untrue.

Of this there is the clearest proof. First, the negative proof is
conclusive. Mr. O'Connell did not name an act, or refer to a word of one
single seceder, which would justify the imputation that they sought or
desired to involve the Association in any expedient inconsistent with
its fundamental rules. His only proof was this, and he did not then rely
on it: Lord John Russell stated in the House, "I am told that one party
among the Repealers are anxious for a separation from England." This is
his solitary proof, nor does it appear that he was not himself the
informant of the minister. But the positive proofs at the other side are
numerous and incontestable. I select a few. On the 13th of July Mr.
O'Gorman, in presence of Mr. O'Connell, said: "In order that there shall
be no misconception on the subject, as far as I am concerned, I say, at
once, I am no advocate for physical force. As a member of the
Association I am bound by its laws. One of these is, that its object is
not to be attained by the use of physical force, but by moral means
only." Mr. Mitchel, on that occasion, said: "This is a legally organised
and constitutional society seeking to attain its object, as all the
world knows, by peaceable means and none other. Constitutional agitation
is the very basis of it; and nobody who contemplates any other mode of
bringing about the independence of the country has a right to come here,
or consider himself a fit member of our Association." On the 28th of
July, Mr. Meagher said: "I do advocate the peaceful policy of the
Association. It is the only policy we can and should adopt. If it be
pursued with truth, with courage and with firmness of purpose, I do
firmly believe it will succeed."

Mr. M.J. Barry, on the 7th of June, said, "It is perfectly plain to all
that the purpose of the Association is to work out its object by means
of moral force, and that only." In my letter to Mr. Ray, written long
after the secession, I used these words: "The first (original rule of
the Association) implies a pledge and an obligation to which every
member of the Association bound himself. Any member, who violates it, or
would induce the Association to infringe it, must be false to his own
vow and treacherous to the Association, whence he should be expelled
with every mark of infamy."

These proofs are taken at random: they range over the time before, after
and contemporaneous with the secession. They could be multiplied one
hundredfold, and taken from the speeches and writings of every one of
the seceders. Yet that fact availed nothing--they were told, because
"they differed from the rules laid down by the Liberator, they ceased to
be members of the Association."

This is, in some sort, a digression. I return to the events which
directly precipitated the division. It will be remembered that the
objections of the seceders to the Peace Resolutions were confined to an
emphatic expression of dissent. They were not, then, informed that they
ceased to be members. They attended the next meeting; and, having
repeated the same dissent, they expressed their fervent wish for a
perfect understanding, and pledged themselves to continue their
co-operation, as if the resolution had not been passed. Mr. John Reilly
repudiated these advances, and charged them with treachery to Ireland,
as the natural complement of disobedience to O'Connell. He gave notice
that he would put certain interrogatories to Mr. O'Brien, in reference
to a speech delivered by him at Clare On the next day of meeting, Mr.
O'Brien attended (July 26), and a letter from Mr. O'Connell, containing
the bitterest complaints, against the "advocates of physical force," as
he pleased to call them, "_who_," he said, "_continued members of our
body, in spite of our resolutions_," was read.

A discussion, acrimonious and prolonged, followed. The debate was
adjourned to the next day, when it was again renewed. Mr. John O'Connell
spoke for nearly three hours, directing most of his arguments against
some admissions of the _Nation_ as to the purpose entertained by the
writers in 1843. A casual expression--"_we had promises of aid from
Ledru Rollin, and many a surer source._"--supplied him with abundant
material for loyal indignation. He was heard without interruption. Mr.
Meagher rose to reply. He delivered that most impassioned oration, in
which occurs the apostrophe to the sword. The meeting yielded to the
frankness, sincerity, enthusiasm and supreme eloquence of the young
orator, and rewarded him by its uncontrollable and unanimous applause.
Mr. J. O'Connell rose, and, in the midst of a scene of universal
rapture, coldly said, "either Mr. Meagher or myself must leave the
Association." Too generous to avail himself of the enthusiasm he
excited, Mr. Meagher withdrew. So did Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Mitchel and the
others, with more than three-fourths of the meeting.

Thus occurred the secession. Mr. J. O'Connell simulated some stage
grief, expressing his ardent hope that the "Liberator," on his arrival,
would heal the wounds he had himself inflicted. How sincere was that
hope is proved by the fact that, when Mr. O'Connell did arrive, which
was on the Saturday following, he was prevented from proceeding farther
than Kingstown, where he was detained until the hour of meeting on
Monday; thus rendering it impossible to have an interview with Mr.
O'Brien, or any one who could facilitate an arrangement. On Monday,
instead of using soothing language and kind advice, he probed the wounds
to the bottom, and infused into them subtlest poison. It is needless, as
it would be painful, to recount the details of bitterness and hate with
which on that day he dashed the hopes of the country. The result was
deep and irreconcilable estrangement. Those who left the hall, rather
than drive therefrom the son of Daniel O'Connell, finding themselves
repaid by calumny, yielded to the conviction which every successive act
of Mr. O'Connell conduced to establish, namely, that the country, and
her great hope of destiny, were handed over to the Whigs.

The proofs of this belief were, first: The statement in the _Mail_,
which remained undenied, and must, therefore, be taken to be undeniable.

Secondly: The expression used by Mr. O'Connell, in his speech at
Conciliation Hall, that he would give no "vexatious opposition" to the
Whig nominee.

Thirdly: His statement, at Dundalk, that "one experiment more was to be
made, in which every honest man would join."

Fourthly: The following passage, which occurred in Mr. O'Connell's
letter, dated London, 27th of June, 1846: "There is an opportunity to
consider the Irish question as if on neutral grounds; there is a
glorious opportunity (the return of the Whigs to power) of deciding if
the Repealers be right in believing that no substantial relief can be
given to Ireland in a British Parliament; or that they are wrong, to the
demonstration that would result from PRACTICAL JUSTICE being afforded by
that Parliament."

Fifthly: The assertion of Mr. Lawless, in a letter to Mr. O'Connell,
dated 18th July, which the latter published, without contradiction or
comment, namely: "And yet it was with difficulty you (Mr. O'Connell)
prevented his (Mr. Shiel) being opposed in his election for Dungarvan,"

Sixthly: Mr. Shiel's election, without opposition, when his defeat, if
opposed, was perfectly certain.

Seventhly: Mr. O'Connell's eulogy on The O'Conor Don for "accepting an
office, which would enable him to serve his country."--(_Speech in
Conciliation Hall, July 13th._)

Eighthly: Mr. O'Connell's assertion, in his speech at Conciliation Hall:
"I did not begin this quarrel; in my absence in London, an attack was
made on the Whig ministry."

And, finally: The boasted acceptance by Mr. O'Connell of the
distribution of Whig patronage, and the appointment of his personal
friends to lucrative employment.

All that followed was one unvaried scene of distraction, division and
enmity. Week after week, the seceders were held up to public odium,
derision and scorn. One day, they were "blasphemous," one day,
"revolutionary," one day, they "sang small," and one day "their nobles
were come to ninepence." Now, they were challenged to establish a
society of their own principles; now, they were recommended to the
mercy of the Attorney-General, and again commended to the hatred of the
people. Meantime a blight had fallen on the earth, and a whole people's
food, in one night, perished. To the new Government, the famine that
ensued was an assurance of subsistence and success. Hunger would waste
the bodies of the people, as the dearth of truth had wasted their souls.
The ministry affected great sympathy, great diligence, and great
impotence. Among other wants of theirs, the want of practical engineers
was felt the deepest. They knew and lamented that many died of
starvation; but the thing was inevitable as long as they were unprovided
with practical engineers. Mr. O'Connell, from the platform of the hall,
announced the good intentions of the Government, and proclaimed, at the
same time, his own commission to supply them with engineers. How many
applied and were refused, I am not in a position to say; but there is no
disputing the records of the church-yard, where many an uncoffined
corpse attested the care of the "_paternal government_." The people were
guaranteed against death, and yet death came, and took them at his will;
but what was left of life was taught to exhaust itself in curses against
those who would save it at every risk. Wherever the seceders appeared
they were hooted. Prostitutes of both sexes regarded them as fit
subjects for their insolent raillery. The avowed foes of nationality
looked on them as fools; its pretended friends as knaves; and the common
herd of indifferent villains as a butt. The low retainers of the English
garrison, who had sold their souls to the enemy but were kept in awe by
bodily fear, became outrageously patriotic; and with insulted gratitude
they scouted the traducers of the "saviour of their country." Alas! in
Ireland, nothing was saved but death's agencies. Doom had come upon
all--her produce, her people, her hopes and her morality.

The same report, which contained the Peace Resolutions, set out with a
statement dissevering the Association from the _Nation_ newspaper. If
the statement were embodied in a resolution of expulsion, it would clash
directly with the failure of the prosecution against it, and brand the
jurors who refused to find a verdict with perjury. But the admission of
the _Nation_ that, in 1843, it inculcated principles having a remote
tendency to effect the redemption of the country, by arms if need were,
supplied the Association with a pretext for expelling it altogether. Two
rules had been adopted for the circulation of newspapers. The first was,
when £10 were forwarded to the Secretary, the subscribers had the
privilege of naming two weekly or one evening paper, which the Secretary
was to forward and pay for. By the second rule, adopted after the State
trials, the subscribers retained the drawback, and selected and paid for
their own paper. For several weeks, the _Nation_ was the only theme of
Mr. O'Connell's abhorrence. He exhausted all his eloquence in warning
the people against it, but in vain. The people continued to insist on it
in return for their subscriptions. Accordingly, on the 10th of August, a
resolution was proposed to the effect that no money subscribed for
Repeal Purposes should be allocated to the payment of a subscription for
the _Nation_, on the sole ground that, in 1843, it inculcated doctrines
which were in their tendency treasonable. Mr. O'Connell said, after the
resolution was passed, that he did not wish to injure the paper in a
pecuniary point of view; and on the next day of meeting, he brought down
to the Association some twenty law authorities, which he read, to prove
that treason had actually been committed; and thus stamped the conduct
of the Attorney-General as not alone justifiable, but lenient to excess.

The seceders determined to abide the issue. They had the fullest
confidence that the insensate cry raised against them would eventually
subside, and that truth would again prevail. They contented themselves,
therefore, with appealing to their countrymen, through the columns of
the _Nation_, then interdicted and banned through every parish in the
island. But, in those appeals, there was no word of allusion to the
storm of calumny and denunciation then raging against them. They sought
to fix public attention on subjects of vast national importance, and to
awake the energies of the people to some becoming effort where the stake
was their lives. Meantime, week after week, the Government was praised,
the Board of Works were praised, and the people--"_the faithful and
moral people, who died, peacefully, of hunger_"--were praised, in the
Repeal Association.

[Illustration: Robert Holmes (1848)]

Late in the autumn of 1846, some men, few in number and humble in
condition, undertook the desperate task of remonstrating with the Repeal
Association. Among them, Mr. Keeley and Mr. Holywood, Mr. Crean and Mr.
Halpin, were prominent. Their undertaking was gigantic, considering the
formidable obstacles they proposed to encounter. They proceeded silently
and sedulously; and, in a few weeks, a remonstrance against the
course pursued by the Association was signed by fifteen hundred citizens
of Dublin. It was presented to the Chairman of the Association on the
24th of October, and ordered by Mr. J. O'Connell to be flung into the
gutter. The remonstrants and the public resented this indignity alike.
It was determined to hold a meeting in the Rotunda, where they proposed
to defend themselves against every species of assault. The meeting was
held on the 3rd of November, and was allowed to pass off without
disturbance. Mr. M'Gee attended. He had never appeared in the struggle
in the hall, nor was he a member at the time. His speech at the Rotunda
was calm, forcible and conclusive on the points in issue; and the
excitement it created was, in no small degree, enhanced by the fact that
the speaker was a young man theretofore unknown. The success of the
meeting suggested the practicability and safety of an experiment upon a
large scale preparatory to the formation of the Confederation. The
meeting was fixed for the 2nd of December. The remonstrant committee
offered to defend it against any assailants. The main object was to
reply to the calumnies which, for nearly six months, had been urged
against the leading seceders. The meeting was one of the most important
ever held in the metropolis. It was intelligent, numerous and
fashionable. The entire ability of the seceders was put forth; and such
was the sensation created by the proceedings that two publishers, one in
Dublin and one in Belfast, brought out reports, in pamphlet form, which
were read all over the country with the greatest avidity. It was that
night stated, only casually, that the seceders would meet in January to
announce to the nation the course of political action they would
recommend. On the 13th of January, the promise was redeemed. The
seceders met as before, and their deliberations were guarded by the same
men, who thus a third time risked their lives--the hazard was nothing
less--to secure to the seceders freedom of speech and of action. On the
13th of January, the Confederation was fully established. The bases, if
the phrase be applicable, were freedom, tolerance and truth. There was
no avowal of war, and no pledge of peace. The great object was the
independence of the Irish nation; and no means to attain that end were
abjured, save such as were inconsistent with honour, morality and
reason.

During the intervening time, between the first and second meetings,
overtures of peace were made by Mr. O'Connell. A sudden and singular
change was observable in his tone and language. He said with chagrin,
and acknowledged with reluctance, that the position and strength of the
party defied alike his power and his address. Every art and every effort
to crush them had been exhausted in vain. The question between them, he
now loudly proclaimed, was one purely of law; and he referred to several
barristers, by whose judgment he was ready to abide. The question he was
prepared to submit suggests the most mournful considerations. If it were
not painful, it would be amusing to see to what painful absurdities he
was compelled to have recourse. He would leave it to anyone at the bar,
whether the "physical force principle" would not make the Association
illegal; and then he would indulge in a hollow triumph over the
certainty and security of his position. But that was not the question
in issue. None of the seceders ever recommended the principle of
physical force, in practice or theory, to the Association. On the
contrary, they disavowed it, in reference to that body, and their own
connection with it. The real question was this--whether it was necessary
to the legality of any political society, to disavow, formally and
forever, under all circumstances, and at all times, the right of men to
strike down the cruellest tyranny with the strong hand. It would be
absurd to submit such a proposition to a lawyer, which could only be
answered by a laugh. It had been sufficiently settled by the fact that,
without it, the Catholic Association, the Corn-law League, and the
Repeal Association itself, up to the 13th of July, 1846, were perfectly
safe and perfectly legal. But no man knew better than Mr. O'Connell that
this was a feigned issue, the real one being the mendicancy of the
Association, and the treachery with which it abandoned the national
constituencies to Whig officials. The overtures on this occasion
eventuated in some negotiations, of which the Rev. Mr. Miley was the
medium. His mission was singularly unfortunate, for it led to greater
misunderstanding; and the negotiations terminated in mutual charges of
misconception or misrepresentation.

The history of the Confederation, such as its importance deserves, is
beyond the scope of my present purpose. Others may undertake to
vindicate for its proceedings that enduring place in the annals of the
country to which they are eminently entitled. Here, but a few words can
be said.

As soon as the eclat of the first meetings had subsided, and the
business began to assume a more routine character, the moral-force
disciples, hitherto kept in awe by the mustered strength of the seceders
and their followers, determined to give a practical illustration of the
sincerity of their pledge by breaking the skulls of their opponents. On
the first occasion, their onslaught was vigorous and successful. Blood
was shed, and heads opened. This was deemed no infraction of the holy
vow recorded in the books of the Association; for the body held its
meetings without exercising its undoubted prerogative of "blotting out"
the scene of outrage "from the map of Ireland." On the second occasion,
the wreckers of Conciliation Hall were met as they deserved, and after a
short skirmish fled through the city.

The success of the new Confederacy was certain, but slow. But, in the
same proportion as their principles obtained predominance, the hatred of
the Old Irelanders became unscrupulous and implacable. Often in the
house of prayer, they heard themselves denounced; often in the streets,
they heard their names used as by-words of scorn. Mr. O'Connell
disappeared from the scene of his glory, which relapsed to the guidance
of his intolerant and intemperate son. Some attempts were made to force
him to a reconciliation, which in public he appeared to yield to, but
which in private he exercised his utmost cunning to baffle. In the midst
of this scene of distraction, Mr. O'Connell died. The news was a
stunning blow to the nation. A great reaction, for a short time, ensued.
Added to the other crimes of the seceders, was that of being O'Connell's
murderers. They, on the other hand, resolved to treat O'Connell's
memory with the greatest respect. They resolved to attend his funeral
procession, in deep mourning; and they gave orders for expensive sashes,
of Irish manufacture, which the members of the council were to wear. Mr.
O'Brien communicated this purpose to Mr. J. O'Connell. The answer was
too plainly a prohibition; and the Confederation reluctantly abandoned
their design. Mr. O'Connell died at Genoa, on the 15th of May, 1847, and
was buried in Glasnevin, on the 5th of August. His corpse, which was
delayed some days in Liverpool, was conveyed through the streets of
Dublin, during the election scene which resulted in the return of Mr.
John Reynolds; being thus made subservient to the success of the man, to
whom, of all his followers, he was most opposed during his life. It was
a strange end, surely. Mr. O'Connell was buried with great pomp. The
trustees of the Glasnevin Cemetery were generous in appropriating the
fund at their disposal to the purposes of the funeral; but when the
sincerity of the mourners' grief came to be tested, by the claim for a
contribution to erect a suitable monument to the great champion of the
age, it was found how hollow was their woe, and how lying their
adulation. Daniel O'Connell is yet without a monument, save that which
his own genius has raised in the liberalised institutions of his
country.

The reaction in the public mind, consequent on his death, was
short-lived; and the Confederation progressed rapidly, during the
closing months of the year 1847. Although not formally acknowledged,
every one saw that it was the only public body in the country deserving
or enjoying anything like public confidence.




CHAPTER VI

THE SPLIT WITH MR. MITCHEL.--HIS TRIAL, CONVICTION, SENTENCE AND
SPEECH.--THE "FELON" AND "TRIBUNE" ESTABLISHED.--ARREST OF MESSRS.
MARTIN, O'DOHERTY, WILLIAMS AND DUFFY.--CONVICTION OF MR. MARTIN.--HIS
SPEECH.--CONVICTION, SENTENCE AND SPEECH OF MR. O'DOHERTY.--DISSOLUTION
OF THE CONFEDERATION.--THE LEAGUE


At the opening of the new year, which was destined to be its last, the
Confederation, though yet regarded with coldness by the Catholic
Hierarchy, was in full career. Its members had won the respect of every
educated man in the land, however widely most of them may have differed
from it in political faith. Among the middle classes of the Catholics,
all that were left uncorrupted fell into its ranks, and embraced its
belief. Men began to regard as possible everything which enthusiasm
advanced with such unhesitating courage and devoted self-sacrifice. Mr.
Mitchel delivered some lectures on land tenure and the poor-law system,
which startled thoughtful and unthinking men alike. He had previously
made an able and sincere effort in the Irish Council to compel the
landlord class to some redeeming act of good sense and good will, which
their own true interests required as well as the agonies of the starving
tenantry. He was met by ignorance, stolidity and scorn. A timid and
narrow measure of improvement in the relation between landlord and
tenant had been proposed, and ably supported by Messrs. Ferguson,
Ireland and O'Loghlen; and such was the obstinate aversion to all
amelioration, on the part of the landlords, that they abstained from
resisting Mr. Mitchel's amendment, lest they would be thereby committed
to the milder reform proposed by Mr. Ferguson. His motion was lost only
by a majority of two several of the five-pound Repeal representatives,
who brawled at tenant-right meetings, and one member of the
Confederation, Mr. M'Gee, being included in the majority.

The result of the division produced a marked change in Mr. Mitchel's
career. His lectures on land-tenure in Europe, displayed the bold
outlines and distinctive characteristics of his principles. His hopes
from the Irish landlords, of whatever shade of politics, had ever
afterwards vanished. He believed them incapable of being influenced by
commonsense or good feeling; and he turned to the people, with full
confidence in their fidelity and strength. All further attempts to
conciliate the upper classes, he regarded as foolish, feeble and
cowardly. He continued to reassert the substance of his lectures in
another form, in the pages of the _Nation_, of which he was at the time
editor-in-chief--that is, of which he wrote the greatest portion,
especially of its leading articles. Some of these articles gave rise to
a difference of opinion between him and Mr. Duffy, who, as responsible
owner and editor, had the sole control of the _Nation_. There were not
wanting men to take advantage of the difference and fan the flame.
Charles Duffy had messages conveyed to him, to the effect that a rumour
was abroad charging him with treachery; and to John Mitchel, perhaps by
the same agents of dissension, it was stated that he, too, was
suspected. It is unfortunately characteristic of Irishmen to be
suspicious; and it was the object of one of Mr. O'Connell's eternal
lessons to perpetuate and extend this degrading national vice. Whether
the representations made to either of these friends were the result of
national prejudice, or proceeded from a baser motive, it is scarce worth
while to inquire. A separation ensued. Mr. Reilly adopted the resolution
of his friend Mr. Mitchel. Mr. M'Gee adhered to Mr. Duffy; and a new
career and distinct fortunes opened to the enterprise of the four men,
whose united efforts elevated the popularity of the _Nation_ to a height
never before enjoyed by an Irish journal.

The early differences between the two great journalists suggested to Mr.
Duffy, and to others, the necessity of drawing up a programme for the
guidance of the Confederation. A committee was appointed, consisting of
several members, including all the leading advocates of both the policy
of Mr. Duffy and that of Mr. Mitchel. The report was principally the
production of Mr. Duffy. It was in part modified by others; but Mr.
Mitchel, who objected to its principle, refused to take any part in its
modification. It was afterwards submitted to the council of the
Confederation; and there gave rise to a long, earnest and, to some
extent, an angry discussion. It was under consideration for several
successive nights, the debate lasting sometimes until three o'clock in
the morning. The principle of the report embraced the belief that moral
means and agencies to effect Ireland's liberties were not yet exhausted,
and should be further tried; and the agencies through which the
experiment was to be tested were indicated in detail. The principle of
the amendment proposed by Mr. Mitchel involved a preparation for and an
appeal to arms as the only resource available to the country. After a
long and anxious debate, the question of adopting the report passed in
the affirmative by a considerable majority. The details then came under
discussion, and, paragraph by paragraph, alterations were proposed and
adopted. The discussion on these matters was still more prolonged and
vehement. The principle of the entire was questioned indirectly by
various amendments of form; but it was always affirmed by a majority.
The report had, however, undergone such modifications and alterations
that its original promoters lost all interest in its passing; and at the
final stage, it was rejected, as well as I remember, without a division.
At all events, it was rejected, and, I believe, with the concurrence of
Mr. Duffy, who afterwards published the original draft in the _Nation_.

It was on that occasion the celebrated resolutions, afterwards the
subject of the three nights' discussion at the Rotunda, were drafted and
proposed by Mr. O'Brien. They were at once adopted, Mr. Mitchel alone
dissenting. This may be the fittest opportunity distinctly and
definitely to settle the question, which has recently arisen, in
reference to these resolutions. On the several occasions of Mr. Duffy's
trial, they have been given in evidence as proof of his loyalty, on the
assumption that they emanated from him, and that it was through his
influence the body was led to adopt them. Again, it seems to have been
inferred--indeed, it has been so stated repeatedly, by persons who boast
of his confidence--that it was owing to his arrest and absence from the
council of the Confederation, that measure of fatal rashness was
adopted, of which he became the first victim; although it was his
discretion and ability that kept the "Jacquerie," who then obtained the
ascendant, in check from the beginning.

This is partly a statement of fact, and partly an inference. The fact is
not true, and the inference is fallacious. The resolutions were not Mr.
Duffy's. On the contrary, one main object with those who adopted them,
without discussion, was to avoid the expression of an opinion on several
abstract principles forming the groundwork of his report. Secondly, he
exercised little or no influence in the debate which led to their
adoption by the Confederation. Thirdly, they were warmly sustained by
the influence, personal and otherwise, as well as by the exertion and
ability of the very men who, according to a recent contemptible sneer,
"improvised a revolution." Every one of them, Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Meagher,
Mr. Dillon, Mr. O'Gorman, and myself, spoke in favour of them, and
against Mr. Mitchel's amendment. And, finally, even if this were not so
and that the rashness of the outbreak really involved deep culpability,
Mr. Duffy cannot claim exemption from his share of the blame.

I subjoin the Resolutions and Amendment. The division took place at ten
o'clock, on Saturday morning, February the 5th, 1848, when the former
were adopted, by a majority of 318 to 188:--

    "Resolved: That inasmuch as letters, published by two members of
    this Council, have brought into question the principles of the
    Irish Confederation, and have given rise to an imputation that
    we are desirous to produce a general disorganisation of society
    in this country, and to overthrow social order, we deem it right
    again to place before the public the following fundamental rule,
    as that which constitutes the basis of action proposed to our
    fellow-countrymen, by the Irish Confederation:--

    RULE

    "That a society be now formed, under the title of 'The Irish
    Confederation,' for the purpose of protecting our national
    interests, and obtaining the legislative independence of
    Ireland, by the force of opinion, by the combination of all
    classes of Irishmen, and the exercise of all the political,
    social and moral influences within our reach.

    "II. That (under present circumstances) the only hope of the
    liberation of this country lies in a movement in which all
    classes and creeds of Irishmen shall be fairly represented, and
    by which the interests of none shall be endangered.

    "III. That inasmuch as English legislation threatens all
    Irishmen with a common ruin, we entertain a confident hope their
    common necessities will speedily unite Irishmen in an effort to
    get rid of it.

    "IV. That we earnestly deprecate the expression of any
    sentiments in the Confederation, calculated to repel or alarm
    any section of our fellow-countrymen.

    "V. That we disclaim, as we have disclaimed, any intention of
    involving our country in civil war, or of invading the just
    rights of any portion of its people.

    "VI. That the Confederation has not recommended, nor does it
    recommend, resistance to the payment of rates and rents, but, on
    the contrary, unequivocally condemns such recommendations.

    "VII. That, in protesting against the disarmament of the Irish
    people, under the Coercion Bill lately enacted, and in
    maintaining that the right to bear arms, and to use them for
    legitimate purposes, is one of the primary attributes of
    liberty, we have had no intention or desire to encourage any
    portion of the population of this country in the perpetration of
    crimes, such as those which have recently brought disgrace upon
    the Irish people; and which have tended, in no trifling degree,
    to retard the success of our efforts in the cause of national
    freedom.

    "VIII. That to hold out to the Irish people the hope that, in
    this present broken and divided condition, they can liberate
    their country by an appeal to arms, and consequently to divert
    them from constitutional action, would be, in our opinion, a
    fatal misdirection of the public mind.

    "IX. That this Confederation was established to obtain an Irish
    Parliament by the combination of classes, and by the force of
    opinion, exercised in constitutional operations; and that no
    means of a contrary character can be recommended or promoted
    through its organisation, while its present fundamental rules
    remain unaltered.

    "X. That while we deem it right thus emphatically to disavow the
    principles propounded in the publications referred to in the
    resolutions, we at the same time equally distinctly repudiate
    all right to control _the private opinions_ of any member of our
    body, provided they do not affect the legal or moral
    responsibility of the Irish Confederation."

    AMENDMENT

    "That this Confederation does not feel called upon to promote
    either a condemnation or approval of any doctrines promulgated
    by any of its members, in letters, speeches, or otherwise;
    because the seventh fundamental rule of the Confederation
    expressly provides, 'That inasmuch as the essential bond of
    union amongst us is the assertion of Ireland's right to an
    independent legislature, no member of the Irish Confederation
    shall be bound to the adoption of any principle involved in any
    resolution, or promulgated by any speaker in the society, or
    any journal advocating its policy, to which he has not given his
    special consent, save only the foregoing fundamental principles
    of the society.'"

But nothing could be more remote from the fact than the assumption that
those who supported the Rotunda resolutions were opposed to Mr. Mitchel
in principle. If that ground were not expressly repudiated, Mr. Mitchel
would have been sustained by a majority of two to one. Every speaker who
exercised any influence on the meeting, took occasion emphatically to
disclaim it. They did not deprecate the right or the duty of taking up
arms against the English Government; but they said: While we approve of
the end in view, we condemn the means, and precisely because we think
them the most surely calculated of any that could be devised, to
frustrate the object. This was the distinct ground, specifically,
clearly and unmistakably stated, on which the amendment of Mr. Mitchel
was opposed and it was the only ground on which it could be opposed;
with sincerity or success. The use, therefore, which was made of the
resolutions on Mr. Duffy's trial was false and unsustainable in every
point of view.

There is no disposition and no desire to quarrel with the line of
defence adopted by Mr. Duffy. It is conceded freely that any defence
which his counsel, some of the ablest and most honourable men at the bar
in Ireland, or elsewhere recommended was justifiable. But coupling that
part of the defence with the evidence given on the same trial, by
pensioners and parasites[8] of the British Government, and with the
commentaries that afterwards appeared from the pens of some of Mr.
Duffy's friends, the whole was calculated to leave on the public mind an
impression, not only utterly inconsistent with the truth, but pernicious
and fatal in its influence on the future of the country, if indeed she
is ever to have a future.

This impression inevitably would be that Mr. Duffy modelled and moulded
the proceedings of the Confederation at his mere pleasure; that Mr.
Duffy was not alone averse to revolution, but actually conservatively
loyal; and that, in the spirit of that loyalty, he controlled the whole
body, and kept an insensate "Jacquerie," which existed within it, in
check--that it was only when he was sent to prison this Jacquerie
obtained the ascendant, and that Mr. Duffy was the victim of their
intemperate folly. However agreeable all this may be to personal vanity,
Mr. Duffy must feel compelled to reject it as audacious and unmeaning
flattery. There is much more at stake than the estimate of private
character--the highest interests of truth. They require that it should
be made known and incontestably established that every word of the
above--fact and inference--is unfounded. As to the statement that Mr.
Duffy was made the victim of others' intemperance, its converse could be
much more easily sustained. But it satisfies every requirement of truth
simply to state that, morally speaking, Mr. Duffy was equally
responsible for the late outbreak, with those who perilled their lives
and lost their liberty forever in the struggle.

The _United Irishman_ started under auspices more flattering than ever
cheered the birth of a similar enterprise. The man in Dublin, who did
not read the first number, might indeed be pronounced a bigot or a
fool. Every word struck with the force and terror of lightning. So great
was the sale of the first number that the press was kept busy for three
days and nights. When the second was announced, a guard of police was
necessary to keep order and peace among the newsvendors around the
office door. In every corner of the island the influence of the _United
Irishman_ was instant and simultaneous. The letters to the Ulster
farmers caused a sensation as universal and profound as the letters to
Lord Clarendon excited sentiments of wonder and alarm. Thomas Devin
Reilly's powers, too, never before tested in this range of literature,
astonished even the warmest admirers of his genius. The journal at once
attained a standard of eminence, political, literary and poetical, never
accorded to a production of the kind, published in Ireland. For the days
in which they were written, the songs and essays of Thomas Davis
contained greater depth, and a holier purpose. They seemed to flow, too,
from a diviner inspiration; were of a wider, calmer and more generous
scope. But the times were different; and it was as if the spirit of
fire, burning at the bases of man's social hopes throughout Europe,
breathed its prophetic glow on the heart of John Mitchel, conscious that
he, of all men, in a prostrate land, could find it befitting utterance.
It must not be omitted that the muse of "Mary," of "Eva," and of poor
Clarence Mangan, considerably enhanced the high estimate of the _United
Irishman_.

In the presence of such an oracle of defiance and vengeance, the
Government for a while stood aghast. But the urgency of the times
admitted of no temporising policy. Messrs. O'Brien, Meagher and
Mitchel, were selected for prosecution; but the latter was honoured with
a double suit--one for an article, and the other for a speech. The
morning they were called upon to enter into security, all Dublin was
startled as if by a spell. The streets were crowded by a dense and
anxious mass of men. The police-office in a short time became
inaccessible. Mr. O'Connell's two sons, and the staff of the old
Association, anticipated the crowd, and occupied the seats around the
bench. When Mr. O'Brien was called on, the O'Connells offered to become
his security. The fact was trumpeted by the journals, yet living on the
garbage of Conciliation Hall. But the offer, if sincere, might then be
productive of important consequences. It was not sincere; a fact
sufficiently attested by the Messrs. O'Connell's necessary consciousness
that Mr. O'Brien would not come without his bail. In truth, it was known
to all Dublin that he even found a difficulty in reconciling the
conflicting claims of several gentlemen who aspired to that honour. So
it was, too, with Mr. Meagher and Mr. Mitchel. All those gentlemen
hurried to tender their services, as soon as they heard that bail would
be required, the Messrs. O'Connell alone selecting the public court for
the display of their magnanimity. It is needless to add that their
courtesy was declined; and they must have left the police-office that
day in the wake of the crowd, oppressed with the conviction that the
confidence of the Irish people had passed for ever from their house.

[Illustration: Thomas Francis Meagher (A Sketch in May: 1848)]

[Illustration: John Martin (About 1865)]

This prosecution marked a new epoch in the Irish movement. It was
determined at once to meet it boldly--to extenuate nothing, to
retract nothing--to take advantage of no legal subterfuge; but dare the
issue promptly, openly and fully. Mr. O'Brien at first refused to be
defended by counsel. He was with great difficulty prevailed upon to
change his determination; and, when it was known that he was willing to
accept professional assistance, at least twenty of the ablest young men
at the bar volunteered their services; and the traversers saw arrayed at
their side an amount of professional ability and chivalry such as was
never united on such an occasion. The most respectable solicitors in the
profession, too, contended for the honour of being their recorded
attorneys. The juries disagreed in both cases; and the charge against
Mitchel lapsed into that more formidable prosecution which sealed his
fate.

Mitchel's arrest under the Treason Felony Act was not unexpected. But as
soon as it was ascertained that he was lodged in Newgate, his fate
engaged the entire care of his co-Confederates. The question at once
arose whether, if a rescue were attempted, there were resources to
ensure even a decent stand. It was ascertained that the supply of arms
and ammunition was scanty and imperfect, and the supply of food still
scantier. The people had been decimated by three years of famine: and no
want could be more appalling than the want of food. On inquiry, it was
found that there was not provision for three days in the capital, which
depended on daily arrivals for its daily bread. Throughout the country,
the supply was even more precarious. The Government had in their own
hands the uncontrolled power of preventing the arrival of a single grain
of corn; and, if so minded, could starve the island in a fortnight,
supposing the people were even able to possess themselves of all the
cattle in the country.

These were some of the considerations which influenced the decision of
Mr. Mitchel's comrades. Whether the opinion were or were not a correct
one, they acted on the conviction that, under all circumstances, any
attempt to rescue him would eventuate in a street row which would entail
not only defeat but disgrace. If they could but persuade themselves that
a blow might be struck, even though defeat and death followed, they most
certainly would have attempted it. It was generally understood, on the
day before the trial, that the idea of a rescue was abandoned; and the
trial commenced amidst gloomy presentiments and blighted hopes. After
hours of quibbling and legal fencing, a jury was selected, by the crown,
to convict. From the moment they went through the blasphemous process of
swearing to give a true verdict, John Mitchel's fate was sealed.

I pass over the details, and come to the last act in the infamous drama,
called his trial.

The following account of the closing scene is not mine. Feeling
inadequate to describe a scene of which even a distant recollection is
exciting, I asked a friend who felt the deepest interest in the trial to
describe it. With what he has written I entirely agree, save one
sentence. He says that it was owing to the action of the council of the
Confederation John Mitchel's personal friends were allowed to be
assaulted, with impunity, by the police. I do not think so. With respect
to the decision of the council, I feel bound to assume my share of its
responsibility, although I yielded to it with the utmost reluctance and
regret:--

On the morning of Saturday, the 27th May, 1849, the court was crowded to
a greater excess than usual, even in those days. About the empty dock
were the personal friends of Mr. Mitchel, those who agreed with him, and
those who did not. A little retired on either side sat John Martin, and
John Kenyon--in front were William H. Mitchel, brother of the prisoner
and his only relative in court, T. Devin Reilly, Thomas F. Meagher, John
B. Dillon, Michael Doheny, Richard O'Gorman, Martin O'Flaherty (Mr.
Mitchel's attorney), Charles O'Hara and others whom we have forgotten.

A little in advance, on the left of the dock, were the stalls reserved
during the sham trial for the counsel for the defence. As yet they were
only occupied by the junior advocates, Sir Colman O'Loghlen and John
O'Hagan. The benches at the right of the dock, and nearer to the bench,
reserved for the Attorney-General and his retainers, were vacant. The
Sheriff and his white stick occupied their box, and the galleries to the
right and left were crowded with jurymen--those who "had done their
business," and those who were eager for employment to do more. The bench
of the judges held two empty chairs. And police officers and other
mercenaries, dotted thickly over the court, "concluded and set off the
arrangements."

An old man, low of stature, and stooped, passed through a side door, and
walked slowly and decrepidly into the benches of the prisoner's counsel.
Whispers, and then applause from the galleries, were heard and passed
by him unheeded. Quietly and unostentatiously he moved to his seat--the
junior advocates, and all the Confederates in the body of the court,
rising and bowing to him in silence. It was the solitary Republican of
the United Irish day, Robert Holmes, coming to discharge his last duty
to the great Republican of a younger century.

The applause of the galleries was hushed by the crier's voice--"Silence!
take off your hats"; and on the right stalked in the gaunt figure of
James Henry Monahan. Triumph, animosity and fear marked his night-bird
face. Even yet it was hoped the great opponent of his "government," whom
by rascality alone he could convict, would strike his colours, and sue
for mercy. Even yet it was feared that a rescue would be attempted. How
possible the former was, the reader may judge. The latter was rendered
impossible by the council of the Confederation, and the few who
cherished the design in the council's despite, had attempted an _emeute_
the night previous, and were beaten and placed _hors de combat_. As
Monahan and his retainers entered, the red face of Lefroy oozed through
the bench curtains, and followed by the pale Moore, "the court was
seated."

As yet the dock was empty, save that the jailor of Newgate and his
deputy occupied each a corner.

There was a dead silence.

"Jailor, put forward John Mitchel," said the official, whose duty is to
make such orders.

A grating of bolts--a rustling of chains, were heard behind. The low
door-way at the back of the dock opened, and between turnkeys Mitchel
entered.

Ascending the steps to the front of the dock, and lifting, as he
advanced, the glazed dark cap he wore during his imprisonment, as
gracefully as if he entered a drawing-room, he took his stand in a firm
but easy attitude. His appearance was equally removed from bravado and
fear. His features, usually placid and pale, had a rigid clearness about
them that day we can never forget. They seemed, from their transparency
and firmness, like some wondrous imagination of the artist's chisel, in
which the marble, fancying itself human, had begun to breathe. The eye
was calm and bright--the mouth, the feature round which danger loves to
play, though easy, motionless, and with lips apart, had about it an air
of immobility and quiet scorn, which was not the effect of muscular
action, but of nature in repose. And in his whole appearance, features,
attitude and look, there was a conscious pride and superiority over his
opponents, which, though unpresuming and urbane, seemed to speak louder
than words--"I am the victor here to-day."

He saluted quietly those friends about the dock he had not that day
seen, conversing with one or two, and bowing to those at a distance. He
then directed his eyes to the court.

After some preliminary forms, Baron Lefroy commenced operations, by
stating that he had called the case the first that morning, in order to
give time for any application to be made in court by, or on behalf of,
the prisoner of the crown.

Again there was a silence of some minutes. The judges looked at each
other inquiringly. The crown prosecutor watched the prisoner's counsel.
Upon the prisoner himself all other eyes were fixed.

There was no reply.

"Business proceeded." The "Clerk of the Crown," rising to ask the usual
question--"If Mr. Mitchel had anything to say why judgment should not be
passed upon him?"

"I _have_," he answered, and after a momentary look at judges, jury-box
and sheriff, he slowly continued: "I have to say that I have been tried
by a packed jury--by the jury of a partisan sheriff--by a jury not
empanelled, even according to the law of England, I have been found
guilty by a packed jury obtained by a juggle--a jury not empanelled by a
sheriff, but by a juggler."

Here he was interrupted by the sheriff rising, and, in high indignation,
claiming the protection of the court.

"That is the reason," continued Mitchel, "that is the reason why I
object to the sentence being passed on me."

"That imputation," interrupted Lefroy, "upon the conduct of the sheriff
I must pronounce to be most unwarranted and unfounded." And this
discriminating judge continued to show that the imputation was
so--concluding with the assertion that the sheriff "had done his duty in
the case." Then without pausing, he proceeded to the usual lecture, full
of hypocritical cant with which British judges usually preface their
awards, however infamous. He alluded to the personal condition of Mr.
Mitchel, and expressed his regrets that a person of such merits should
be in such circumstances, Then having dilated on the enormity of the
offence, he assured Mr. Mitchel that he had been found guilty of many
heinous charges against the Queen and the Imperial Crown, and among
others, of felonious intending to levy war upon that gentlewoman, and
that the evidence was furnished by the prisoner's self. "How,
therefore," he continued, "you think yourself justified in calling it
the verdict of a packed jury, and thus imputing perjury to twelve of
your countrymen--deliberate and wilful perjury--"

"No," interrupted the prisoner, "I did not impute perjury to the jury."

"I understood," said the speaker on the bench, "that you had stated, in
arrest of judgment, that you had been found guilty by a packed jury."

"I did," was the reply.

Robert Holmes rose, during the judge's speech, and said, "My lords, with
the greatest respect, what I said was, that though he might be
statutably guilty, he was not, in my opinion, morally guilty. I repeat
that opinion now."

This avowal, so boldly and firmly made by the veteran Republican, was
answered by all the audience, not pensioned, with plaudits.

Baron Lefroy would say no more on that point, only that the court could
not acquiesce in a line of defence "which appeared to it very little
short of, or amounting to, as objectionable matter as that for which the
prisoner had been found guilty.

"I," replied the aged advocate, "I am answerable for that under your Act
of Parliament."

Loud applause followed. "Are there no policemen in court?" shouted
Baron Lefroy. The High Sheriff "had given strict orders," he said, "to
have all removed who would interrupt." "Make prisoners of them," said
the judge. "I wish you to understand," he continued, still excited, and
addressing Mr. Mitchel, who during these episodes, stood unmoved, "that
we have with the utmost anxiety and with a view to come to a decision
upon the measure of punishment which it would be our duty to impose,
postponed the passing of sentence on you until this morning." Then,
having stated the various considerations which induced him to believe
that the punishment should be lenient, and the equally various
considerations which induced him to believe the contrary, Lefroy
concluded as follows: "We had to consider all this--to look at the
magnitude of the crime, and to look also at the consideration, that if
this were not the first case brought under the Act, our duty might have
obliged us to carry out the penalty it awards to the utmost extent; but,
taking into consideration, that this is the first conviction under the
Act--though the offence has been as clearly proved as any offence under
the Act could be--the sentence of the court is, that you be transported
beyond the seas for the term of fourteen years."

The listeners to the hypocritical sentence which concluded Lefroy's
speech, heard the sentence with astonishment and indignation. Mr.
Mitchel merely asked, apparently without any astonishment, if he might
now address some remarks to the court. The leave asked was granted, and
a silence still as death awaited the prisoner.

"The law," he said, in his usual manly tone, and unexcited manner, "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 out a free man from this dock to meet him
in another field.

"My lord, I knew I was setting my life on that cast; but I warned him
that, in either case, the victory would be with me; and the victory is
with me. Neither the jury, nor the judges, nor any other man in this
court, presumes to imagine that it is a criminal who stands in this
dock."

He was interrupted with the plaudits of the auditory; and again
continued:--

"I have kept my word. 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 perjured sheriffs--"

Here he was interrupted by Lefroy, who said, "the court could not sit
there to hear him arraign the jurors of the country, the sheriffs of the
country, the administration of justice, the tenure by which the crown of
England holds that country. The trial was over. Everything the prisoner
had to say previous to the judgment, the court was ready to hear, and
did hear. They could not suffer him (Mr. Mitchel) to stand at that bar
to repeat, very nearly, a repetition of the offence for which he had
been sentenced."

"I will not say," Mr. Mitchel continued, "anything more of that kind.
But I say this--"

Lefroy again interrupted him, to the effect that, within certain limits
the prisoner might proceed.

"I have acted," he then said, "I have acted all through this business,
from the first, under a strong sense of duty. I do not regret anything I
have done, and I believe that the course which I have opened is only
commenced. The Roman," he continued in one of those bursts of eloquence,
with which he used to electrify men, stretching forth his clenched hand
and arm, "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?"

Here he pointed to his friends, Reilly, Martin, and Meagher. A burst of
wild enthusiasm followed.

"Officer! officer! remove Mr. Mitchel," was heard from Lefroy. A rush
was made on the dock, and the foremost ranks sprung from the galleries,
with out-stretched arms to vow with him too. The judges rushed in terror
from the benches--the turnkeys seized the hero, and in a scene of wild
confusion he half walked, and was half forced through the low, dark
door-way in the rear, waving his hand in a quiet farewell. The bolts
grated, the gate slammed, and he was seen no more.

Men stood in affright, and looked in each others' faces wonderingly.
They had seen a Roman sacrifice in this modern world, and they were
mute.

An hour elapsed--the excited crowd had passed away; and the partisan
judges, nervous and ill at ease, ventured upon the bench again.

They were seated, and seemed to be settling down to get through
"business" as well as they could, when Mr. Holmes, whose defence of Mr.
Mitchel had been so offensive to them, rose. "My lords," he said, "I
think I had a perfect right to use the language I did yesterday. I wish
now to state that what I said yesterday as an advocate, I adopt to-day,
as my own opinion. I here avow all I have said; and, perhaps, under this
late Act of Parliament, her Majesty's Attorney-General, if I have
violated the law, may think it his duty to proceed against me in that
way. But if I have violated the law in anything I said, I must, with
great respect to the court, assert that I had a perfect right to state
what I stated; and now I say in deliberation, that the sentiments I
expressed with respect to England, and her treatment of this country,
are my sentiments, and I here openly avow them. The Attorney-General is
present--I retract nothing--these are my well-judged sentiments--these
are my opinions, as to the relative position of England and Ireland, and
if I have, as you seem to insinuate, violated the law by stating those
opinions, I now deliberately do so again. Let her Majesty's
Attorney-General do _his_ duty to his government, I have done _mine_ to
my country."

Such was the conclusion of the trial of John Mitchel. The brother-in-law
and friend of Robert Emmet, the republican of our fathers' days, came to
attest the justice of the republican of our own, and to vie with him in
defying and scorning the infamous laws of England.

It is needless to say that the English officials did not dare accept the
challenge so nobly and defiantly flung down before the very dock whence
one victim had just been borne.


I feel tempted to add a word of a scene that intervened, in which I took
a part. When the sheriff recovered his self-possession, he ordered
several to be arrested; among others, Mr. Meagher. The officer who
seized him acted rudely and violently, which led to further confusion,
and the exchange of blows. At last Mr. Meagher and myself were secured
and removed to prison. When order was restored, we were brought out
before the court, and asked for an expression of regret. I answered,
that having heard Mr. Mitchel express, in the dock, sentiments in which
I entirely concurred, I took immediate occasion to mark my most distinct
and emphatic approval. In doing this I had no intention of an affront to
the court. But as to retract, or regret, no punishment in the power of
that or any other court to inflict, would compel me to do either one or
the other.

Mr. Meagher repeated the same thing. We were then reprimanded and sent
back. Soon after we were recalled, and upon motion of Mr. Dillon and Sir
Colman O'Loghlen, on behalf of Mr. Meagher, who stated that he would
express his regret for the contempt of court, but nothing else, we were
both released, although I persisted in refusing even to join in the
expression of regret made _for_ but not _by_ Mr. Meagher.

On the same day on which the above scene took place, John Mitchel was
borne in irons from the land of his love, the wife of his bosom, and the
children of his heart.

Immediately after, the council of the Confederation was reduced to
twenty-one; and everything wore a sterner aspect, as if, whether they
willed it or no, an imperious obligation required fulfilment at their
hands. The slight disunion, which the fate of John Mitchel created,
between those who favoured and opposed his rescue, quickly disappeared,
and both parties only emulated each other in the activity and
earnestness of preparation. Among the agencies of progress, suggested by
the crisis, were two new journals--the _Felon_, edited by John Martin
and T.D. Reilly, assisted by Mr. Brenan, and the _Tribune_, edited by
Richard Dalton Williams and Kevin Izod O'Doherty, of which Mr. Savage
and Dr. Antisell were joint proprietors, and to which they were joint
contributors, with S.J. Meany and myself. The great object of the first
was to follow in the footsteps of the _United Irishman_, and that of the
latter was to urge the same principles upon a more republican basis. The
_Felon_ soon acquired additional interest from the daring principles and
extraordinary ability of Mr. James F. Lalor, who had become a joint
contributor with the recognised editors. Of the _Tribune_ it would not
become me to speak; perhaps no more is needed than that in the race to
doom it was not outsped.

On the 8th of July, John Martin surrendered. Messrs. Duffy and O'Doherty
were arrested on the same evening, and Mr. Williams on the following
morning.

Although the trials that followed did not take place until long after
the events which form the principal subject of this narrative, a brief
account of them will not be inappropriate here.

Mr. O'Doherty was the first placed on his trial. The jury was of the
stamp usual in such cases in Ireland. But a point of great importance
was raised by his counsel, as to the publisher's _intention_ to commit
the felony, which they insisted should be proved, to bring his case
within the provision of the Treason Felony Act. The court, composed of
Chief Baron Pigot and Baron Pennefather, gave an opinion favourable to
this construction, and the jury refused to convict, for which the Castle
Organ did not hesitate to pronounce them perjurers. Every one supposed
and rejoiced that Mr. O'Doherty had escaped; but the vengeance of the
Attorney-General was far from satisfied, and he had ample satisfaction
on a future day.

On the 16th of August, John Martin was placed at the bar, before the
same judges. The instincts of the official, exasperated by defeat,
exercised a keener vigilance in selecting a jury; and one was finally
sworn that did not disappoint his sagacity. They found a verdict of
guilty without hesitation; but recommended the prisoner to mercy, which
in that case was a distinct contradiction of their oaths. The
composition of the jury, and the character of the prosecution, will be
best understood by a perusal of the subjoined speech. No higher proof
could be given of his purity of purpose, elevation of sentiment, and
goodness of heart. On the 19th of August he was called up to receive
sentence He stood in the spot hallowed by the footprints of Robert
Emmet and John Mitchel; nor was the heart he brought to the same
sacrifice less worthy than theirs. Upon his benevolent countenance or
stout heart, the appliances of terror around him had no effect. He stood
unmoved and unawed, in the glorious consciousness that he had fulfilled
his duty to his friend and to his country.

When asked what he had to say why sentence should not be passed upon
him, he replied:--

    "MY LORDS: I have no imputation to cast upon the bench, neither
    have I anything of unfairness toward myself to charge the jury
    with. I think the judges desired to do their duty fairly, as
    upright judges and men, and that the twelve men who were put
    into the box, not to try, but to convict me, voted honestly
    according to their prejudices. I have no personal enmity against
    the sheriff, sub-sheriff, or any other gentleman connected with
    the arrangements of the jury panel, nor against the
    Attorney-General, or any other person engaged in the proceedings
    called my trial. But, my lords, I consider _I have not yet been
    tried!_ There have been certain formalities carried on here for
    three days, _but I have not been put upon my country, according
    to the constitution said to exist in Ireland!_

    "Twelve of my countrymen, 'indifferently chosen,' have not been
    put into the jury-box to try me, but twelve men, who, I believe,
    have been selected by the parties who represent the crown, for
    the purpose of _convicting_, and not of _trying_ me.

    "Every person knows that what I have stated is the fact; and I
    would represent to the judges, most respectfully, that they, as
    honourable judges, and as upright citizens, ought to see that
    the administration of justice in this country is above
    suspicion. I have nothing more to say with regard to the trial;
    but I would be thankful to the court for permission to say a few
    words after sentence is passed."

Chief Baron and Baron Pennefather: "No. We cannot hear anything from you
after sentence is pronounced."

    "Then, my lords, permit me to say, that admitting the narrow and
    confined constitutional doctrines, which I have heard preached
    in this court, to be right, _I am not guilty of the charge
    according to this Act!_ In the article of mine, on which the
    jury framed their verdict, which was written in prison, and
    published in the last number of my paper, what I desired to do
    was this, to advise and encourage my countrymen to keep their
    arms; because that is their inalienable right, which no Act of
    Parliament, no proclamation can take away from them. It is, I
    repeat, their inalienable right. I advised them to keep their
    arms; and further, I advised them to use their arms in their own
    defence against all assailants--even assailants that might come
    to attack them unconstitutionally and improperly, using the
    Queen's name as their sanction.

    "My object in all my proceeding has been simply to establish the
    independence of Ireland for the benefit of all the people of
    Ireland--noblemen, clergymen, judges, professional men--in fact,
    all Irishmen. I sought that object first, because I thought it
    was our right; because I thought, and think still, national
    independence was the right of the people of this country. And
    secondly, I admit, that being a man who loves retirement, I
    never would have engaged in politics did I not think it
    necessary to do all in my power to make an end of the horrible
    scenes the country presents--the pauperism, and starvation, and
    crime, and vice, and the hatred of all classes against each
    other. I thought there should be an end to that horrible system,
    which while it lasted, gave me no peace of mind, for I could
    not enjoy anything in my country, so long as I saw my countrymen
    forced to be vicious, forced to hate each other, and degraded to
    the level of paupers and brutes. This is the reason I engaged in
    politics.

[Illustration: Kevin Izod O'Doherty]

    "I acknowledge, as the Solicitor-General has said, that I was
    but a weak assailant of the English power. I am not a good
    writer, and I am no orator. I had only two weeks' experience in
    conducting a newspaper until I was put into jail. But I am
    satisfied to direct the attention of my countrymen to everything
    I have ever written, and to rest my character on a fair
    examination of what I have put forward as my opinions. I shall
    say nothing in vindication of my motives but this, that every
    fair and honest man, no matter how prejudiced he may be, if he
    calmly considers what I have written and said, will be satisfied
    that my motives were pure and honourable. I have nothing more to
    say."

The Chief Baron, in passing sentence, alluded to the jury's
"recommendation to mercy."

Mr. Martin: "I cannot condescend to accept mercy where I believe I have
been morally right. I want justice, not mercy."

He was then sentenced to ten years' transportation.

On two successive occasions, the jury empanelled by the Government, and
carefully packed to serve their end, refused to convict Mr. O'Doherty.
He was placed on his trial, a third time, on the 30th of October,
prosecuted with the same enduring malignity, and a verdict of guilty,
suspected to be the result of a fraud practised on the jury, was
returned. Mr. Williams, who was joint proprietor of the _Tribune_, and
jointly responsible, was acquitted after a protracted trial on the 3rd
of November, the jury being of opinion that although the articles given
in evidence were felonious, there was no proof to satisfy them that the
proprietors, when publishing them, did so with a felonious intent. This
distinction arose in consequence of the fair and candid construction of
the Felony Act, given by Chief Baron Pigot and Baron Pennefather, on Mr.
O'Doherty's first trial, to the effect that the jury should be satisfied
of the publisher's felonious intent; a construction which the present
judges 'Crampton and Torrens' would not dare to contradict.

Notwithstanding this, just as the words, "Not guilty," were pronounced
by the jury, in Mr. Williams' case, despite the most flagrant and
audacious bullying of the bench, Mr. O'Doherty was called up for
judgment. Among all the martyr-band whom this year consigned to doom,
not one behaved himself with truer or nobler heroism; not one, either,
whose fate commands a deeper sympathy. Under thirty years of age,
largely gifted, with most respectable connections, a high place in
society, brilliant prospects, and so unostentatious in his enthusiasm
that it was only then his country heard of his devotion, and learned his
worth; there he stood with as lofty consciousness and as brave a heart
as ever consecrated the scaffold or the battle-plain.

Judge Crampton pronounced the sentence. Nature has supplied his lordship
with characteristics of countenance admirably befitting such a scene.
Had he been only elevated to the kindred office of actual executioner,
he would have been spared the expense of a mask; for without it, no one
could look into his eyes. Of course, he was teeming with compassion and
regret, which jointly resulted in a sentence of transportation for TEN
YEARS. Mr. O'Doherty, who stood unmoved, after a few preliminary
observations in reference to the unfairness of his trial, spoke as
follows:--

    "I would feel much obliged if your lordship would permit me to
    mention a few more words with reference to my motives throughout
    this affair. I had but one object and purpose in view. I did
    feel deeply for the sufferings and privations endured by my
    fellow-countrymen. I did wish, by all means, consistent with a
    manly and honourable resistance, to assist in putting an end to
    that suffering. It is very true, and I will confess it, that I
    desired an open resistance of the people to that government,
    which, in my judgment, entailed these sufferings upon them. I
    have used the words open and honourable resistance in order that
    I might refer to one of the articles brought in evidence against
    me, in which the writer suggests such things as flinging burning
    hoops on the soldiery. My lords, these are no sentiments of
    mine. I did not write that article. I did not see it or know of
    it until I read it when published in the paper. But I did not
    bring the writer of it here on the table. Why? I knew that if I
    were to do so, it would be only handing him over at the
    court-house doors to what one of the witnesses has very properly
    called the fangs of the Attorney-General. With respect to myself
    I have no fears. I trust I will be enabled to bear my sentence
    with all the forbearance due to what I believe to be the opinion
    of twelve conscientious enemies to me, and I will bear with due
    patience the wrath of the Government whose mouthpiece they were;
    but I will never cease to deplore the destiny that gave me birth
    in this unhappy country, and compelled me, as an Irishman, to
    receive at your hands a felon's doom for discharging what I
    conceived, and what I still conceive, to be my duty."

Mr. Duffy's trial was postponed. His final escape is known to most of my
readers; but as I cannot approve of the character of his defence, I
prefer saying no more of it in this place.

It is here needful to refer to myself, a topic always disagreeable to
others, but painfully so on this occasion to me. The proposal to form a
league with the remaining members of the Association originated with
certain gentlemen, among whom the Rev. Mr. Miley held a prominent place,
who personally waited on Mr. O'Brien to testify their abhorrence of the
outrages offered to him in Limerick. Some very questionable politicians,
who watched with the eye of traffic the current of public opinion, and
sought to make the same profit of the reflux they had formerly made of
its unimpeded tide, attended on those occasions. Others, of purer
motives, and loftier patriotism, joined in these interviews, and
contrived to have them repeated. Among these were the poet, Samuel
Ferguson, and Richard Ireland, two recent and brilliant converts to the
cause of nationality. There were others, whom I need not name, of
equally unquestionable purity. But for several weeks, while these
interviews were held, there was no exact delegation from either the
Confederation or Association. I am not, indeed, aware whether any such
delegation was ever formally given or assumed. However, negotiations
proceeded, and though they were never brought to a satisfactory
adjustment, the dissolution of the Confederation was formally proposed
and adopted. On that day the greatest hope of Ireland perished.

The generosity of the suicide on the part of the Confederation was met
by a new chicane. Though every member, whose character and talents could
for a moment redeem the deformity, dulness and decrepitude of the Repeal
Association, had passed from its ranks and enrolled themselves in the
new League, it resolved to struggle on, acting as a check and a stain by
its anility and crookedness, on the rising hopes of the country. During
the discussions that led to the formation of the league, it was
emphatically announced by certain members of the Confederation that on
no ground and for no purpose would they abjure one principle they ever
announced. Above all, they avowed their purpose to urge on the country
the duty of armed resistance whenever its success appeared probable. The
Government heard of these avowals, and the time spent in captious
discussions about moral nonentities and legal quibbles, when the stake
was a nation's death or life, was diligently employed by the Government
in accumulating means of defence.

The motives of the principal promoters of the league are by no means
questioned here. On the contrary, it is freely admitted their
convictions were as sincere as they were fatal. The due appreciation of
that movement requires that a few leading facts and inferences upon
which it was based should be calmly considered. The first and most
important is the great change which had taken place in the feelings of
the country. The vast majority of the thinking population were ranged at
the side of the Confederation. So, too, was that of the people of the
rural districts. The intellectual leaders of the great Protestant party
had actually identified themselves with it, and a reconciliation with
the entire body of the Orangemen had been nearly effected. Most of the
men whose integrity and ability had preserved the lingering existence of
the Association, openly avowed their approval of its principles, and
such of them whose hearts were not mere empty sounds, would join its
members at a crisis.

Thus stood the facts. The considerations in favour of the junction were
these: Certain men of influence, who, contrary to their own convictions,
adhered to the Association, in the commencement through fear, and still
adhered to it through an unintelligible hankering after consistency,
pressed for an opportunity where they might abandon their former
associates without the appearance of abandoning their old principles.
There were others who followed a middle course, and were always with the
greater crowd and the more intense enthusiasm, who demanded the same
means of escape.

There was a consideration of some weight which no doubt influenced the
decision of the Confederates. It was this: the Roman Catholic clergymen
had given unmitigated opposition to the Confederation. Their hostility
had been the most formidable obstacle in its way; and it was assumed
that the presence of some leading churchmen among the Confederates,
would remove the distrust which the former opposition of the priesthood
had mainly tended to create.

These were the chief considerations at the affirmative side. On a less
pressing occasion, and at a former period, they might have been
forcible, nay, even conclusive. But the issue had been then narrowed to
one of actual force. John Mitchel was transported, and the most trusted
of his comrades had pledged their lives to redeem their brother felon at
any cost. Every consideration connected with the question should be
examined and determined on in reference to that position and that
pledge. Tested by them, the first above presented would thus resolve
itself: either these men whose characteristic had been indecision, were
sincere in seeking for an opportunity to redeem their patriotism by
their blood, or they were not. If they were, they would never be
restrained by the miserable fear of being charged with inconsistency. If
they were not, the cause would be cursed by their adhesion. The same
argument would apply to the priesthood with still more imperious force;
such of them as were actually sincere would be found at their post at
the hour of trial, in obedience to no form, but influenced by their own
conscientiousness. Such of them as were insincere would be true to no
obligation imposed by conventionality. Untrue to their convictions, they
could not be faithful to their words. And finally--an argument which
appears unanswerable and insuperable--Mr. John O'Connell and his
immediate followers had so solemnly abjured, denounced and cursed the
principles of the great majority with whom they were asked to league,
that they could not comply without such a debasement of character as to
compel the scorn of all men, not only to themselves, but all those with
whom they were united. It could not fail to strike any ordinary observer
that materials so incongruous and repulsive were incapable of cohesion;
and the consequence must be the distrust of the more ardent of their
followers at both sides.

These were my opinions. I pressed them at the time as strongly as I
could, and perhaps more urgently than I ought. But I was absent from
Dublin, and my remonstrances were vain. I would have retired in despair
had I not been too deeply engaged. The Rev. John Kenyon did actually
retire, influenced by the same motives which I refused to yield to,
solely because retirement would brand me with an imputation of
cowardice, which no explanation could ever efface. I refused all
connection with the League, but continued to act in concert with my
confederates, in establishing clubs and training the manhood of the
country for the stern trial before it. My position rendered bold,
undisguised and explicit language indispensable. This led to prosecution
and arrest. The charge was supposed to be high treason and Mr. Richard
O'Gorman wrote to me to inquire what I wished to have done in my behalf.
My answer was a distinct refusal to accept any aid from a body whose
constitution I could not approve. This circumstance is mentioned, not
because it deserves distinct attention, or even a place in this
narrative, but to prove that my objections to the dissolution of the
Confederation, and my feeling that it was a fatal step, are not of
recent growth, or founded on ex-post facto opinions. I feel bound to
add, however, that I stood alone, or almost alone, as far as I have been
able to hear. I dismiss the subject now, anxious to claim no praise, and
ready to submit to the blame that may attach to my course, such as it
was. I am only desirous, that in whatever memory of me my country may
preserve, the truth alone should determine the public estimation of my
conduct and character.

The League met, resolutions were adopted, and speeches made that meant
nothing. New men came together, looked each other in the face, and
turned away as if at the heart of each there was something with which he
could not trust the other. There was a short, feeble and false flourish,
and no more. Those who augured so sanguinely for its action and effect
were disappointed. But they shamed openly to relinquish a project for
sake of which they had made such sacrifices. By degrees, however, they
sought to rekindle the embers of that fire which with thoughtless hand
they aided to extinguish. The Government availing themselves of the
inactivity that prevailed, and acting on the information they received,
resolved to strike a second blow. Charles Duffy was arrested for an
article which the Castle Organ branded as shrinking and cowardly, and
which evidently lacked the burning spirit of the time. Immediately the
clubs, which continued a precarious and unintelligible existence, came
together and elected a directory of five from among their own members.
This directory consisted of Messrs. Dillon, Meagher, O'Gorman, Reilly,
and M'Gee. What their exact duty was does not sufficiently appear. But I
believe the fact to be that they never took counsel together.

Mr. Meagher and Mr. O'Gorman left town immediately. About that time I
was actively engaged in Tipperary. On the same day and hour Mr. Meagher
was arrested in Waterford and I in Cashel. An attempt was made to
rescue both of us, and by us both the effort was checked. I knew nothing
of what had occurred. I had been acting since the formation of the
League on my own judgment and responsibility. Independent of the fact
that the harvest was yet remote, and that we were tacitly pledged to
await its coming, my experience for the previous month satisfied me that
the people were far from being prepared; and I could not allow any
personal considerations to influence the country at such a crisis. Mr.
Meagher was governed by similar motives. It might have been better had
we acted otherwise, but with our then convictions, the least risk on our
own account would have been selfish and criminal; and rather than be
guilty of it we yielded to our fate. At the time each of us thought the
charge against him was at least felony. It turned out otherwise, and
though the magistrates who arrested and committed us refused to
entertain the question whether or not the offence was bailable, and
though we were both paraded through the country under an escort of
several hundred men, the Government directed we should be admitted to
bail. Mr. Meagher proceeded from Dublin to Limerick, where the
indictment against him was found; and on the same day I was liberated
from Nenagh Jail. Previous to my arrest, I had arranged to hold a
meeting on the summit of Slievenamon mountain. It was fixed for the day
after that on which I was liberated at Nenagh, which is at least fifty
miles from the place of meeting. I was not liberated until late in the
evening; but I resolved to be present at the meeting, and immediately
proceeded on my journey. I travelled all night, partly on horseback and
partly on foot, arriving at Cashel early in the morning. I there
learned that Mr. Meagher and some friends of his from Limerick had also
arrived with the same object as myself. We rode together to the
mountain, followed by several thousands, a distance of twenty miles.
Fifty thousand men at least clambered that steep mountain side, under a
scorching July sun. Four times as many would have been there to meet us,
but it had been widely rumoured none of us would be there; and in fact
most of those who came believed we were both in our prison-cells.
Besides this, efforts were made by men high in the confidence of the
leaders and the country to prevent the meeting altogether. To fix their
motives was difficult, but it would be hazardous to attribute to them
any but the best. Facts have since proved, however, that their
patriotism had even then begun to halt. The Rev. Mr. Byrne, of whom much
shall be said, hereafter, was foremost in this endeavour, and actually
dissuaded the people of Waterford, Carrick and Wexford from proceeding
to the mountain. These people all remained in Carrick, and Mr. Meagher
was informed that they were in a state of extreme excitement. This
intelligence determined him to leave the mountain suddenly and proceed
to meet his fellow-townsmen. Had all these been allowed to attend the
meeting, our resolution might have been very different from what it was.
But we were, in fact, disappointed and chagrined. The mountain-top had
been selected for many reasons. Principal among them were these: Public
meetings in Ireland had actually become a farce. We determined to hold
one from which all senseless and idle brawlers would be excluded. The
difficulty of ascending the hill would, we thought, sufficiently test
the courage and sincerity of our followers. Secondly, we wished for a
spot not accessible to her majesty's troops, so as to avoid a chance of
a collision. Thirdly, we thought it would be a precaution against
detectives; and finally, it was possible we might determine on some
bolder step when we saw our strength. The excitement in Carrick had
nearly become uncontrollable, when Mr. Meagher arrived there, and it was
deemed advisable to lead the people out of the town. The distance to
Waterford is twelve Irish miles, over the entire of which the procession
stretched; and so dense was the crowd that Mr. Meagher did not arrive in
Waterford sooner than three o'clock, next morning. It may well be
supposed that such a scene of excitement, heat and tumult, afforded but
little opportunity for deliberation. I was able to speak with my friend
only in brief snatches; and I did not afterward see him until it was too
late to take counsel for the future.

The meeting on that day, the evening scene at Carrick, and the arrival
in Waterford, were relied on by the English minister, as a perfect
justification for the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. Others and
more powerful ones influenced the Cabinet; and foremost among these was
the great meeting at New York, which too clearly evidenced the purpose
of America, should the struggle proceed. I had no communication,
directly or indirectly, with any of my comrades after that day, save one
letter from Mr. O'Brien. This letter had reference solely to my
approaching trial, which he signified his wish to be present at. To this
letter I replied, informing him that it had been intimated to me that a
number of men would assemble, armed, near Nenagh, during the trial; and
I besought him to be there for the purpose of preventing an outbreak,
which I regarded as disastrous, unprepared as the people then were.
Neither the trial nor the meeting took place, and other events shaped
our destiny.[9] A few days after the Slievenamon meeting, it was
intimated to me that I was to be arrested on a second charge, the exact
nature of which was not stated. I could not doubt the accuracy of my
information, and being fully determined to preserve my liberty for the
coming struggle, which under any circumstances could not be long
delayed, I left home on the 22nd day of July, and proceeded through the
country to the foot of Slievenamon. Here I took up my quarters at a
farmer's house, where I remained two days and nights, in total ignorance
of the circumstances then rapidly hurrying the crisis wherein our fondly
cherished hopes were blasted.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 8: From the position in which Mr. Carleton is now placed, it
may be necessary to say that I do not allude to him.]

[Footnote 9: Since the above was written, I have heard it said that a
report, current about the time of Mr. O'Brien's conviction, had been
recently received here. The report was, that I promised Mr. O'Brien to
have 50,000 men to meet him; which was his principal inducement to act
as he did; and that I not only had not one man, but was myself absent
when he came. The absurdity of the rumour was sufficiently proved by the
fact that Mr. O'Brien did not come to me, or my part of the country, in
the first instance. The real truth is that I never directly or
indirectly, by word or letter, counselled the outbreak. Nay, more: I was
as ignorant of Mr. O'Brien's purpose as the President of these States.
At the time of Mr. Mitchel's trial, I believe I expressed a very strong
opinion in favour of rescuing him; and that opinion was grounded on the
belief that the whole people would rise up _en masse_, and in one wild
burst of vengeance, sweep their oppressors from the land. But neither
then nor afterwards, did Mr. O'Brien give me the least reason to believe
that he was prepared to resist the government in arms, save as far as he
concurred in acts which had a tendency to that end.

When first the report above referred to was circulated, I wrote the
strongest contradiction of it, and Mr. Meagher, with Mr. O'Brien's
sanction, addressed the following note to the editor of the Tipperary
_Vindicator_. I am sorry it should be in any way necessary to produce it
here; but as this is the last time I shall ever refer to this subject, I
thought it best to add this testimony to my own.

    CLONMEL GAOL

    "MR. MEAGHER fully authorises his friend, Mr. Lenihan, to state
    that the exculpation which appeared in a recent number of his
    paper, from Mr. Doheny, is the perfect truth.

    "Mr. Meagher is most anxious to have this stated, for he has
    felt for a long time deeply pained at many of the false reports
    that have appeared against his friend--his dear and trusted
    friend, Michael Doheny.

    "One of the most grievous of these reports has been that very
    false one, charging Mr. Doheny with having invited Mr. Smith
    O'Brien to the county Tipperary. Nothing could have been more
    false than this.

    "Mr. Doheny, so far from inviting Mr. O'Brien to Tipperary, did
    not, in fact, know of his being in the county at all, until Mr.
    Meagher told him, and that was on Tuesday, July 25th.

    (Signed) "THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER.

    "Written a few hours after the passing of the sentence of death.

    "_October 23, 1848._"]




CHAPTER VII

THE OUTBREAK.--MR. O'BRIEN IN
CARRICK.--CASHEL.--KILLENAULE.--MULLINAHONE.--BALLINGARRY.--AFFAIR AT
KILLENAULE.--DEFEAT OF MR. O'BRIEN'S PARTY AT THE COMMON.--PERSONAL
ADVENTURES OF THE WRITER AND HIS COMRADE, UP TO THE DATE OF MR.
O'BRIEN'S ARREST


On the night of the 24th of July, I was awakened, where I was staying,
by a rapping at my window. I recognised the voice of my sister-in-law,
and learned from her, in a few seconds, how matters stood. Her
information, in brief, was this that: Messrs. O'Brien, Dillon and
Meagher had left Dublin on learning that the Habeas Corpus Act was
suspended; and that it was supposed their object was to throw themselves
on the courage of the country. This intelligence rested on the authority
of two trusted members of the council of the Confederation, Messrs.
James Cantwell, and P.J. Smyth. The fact was all which I then cared to
know. I parted from my sister in half-an-hour, and rode off in the
direction of Carrick-on-Suir, where I was certain Mr. O'Brien would
direct his way, whether he came alone or followed by his countrymen in
arms. 'Mid the lone silence of that journey, while there was leisure to
revolve all the difficulties and hazards of the future, the idea never
once occurred to me that, supposing my information correct, the step was
rashly taken. On such occasions, when centuries gather into moments,
some one overmastering feeling, hope or passion absorbs and controls the
whole understanding. That which was then present to my mind, and
occupied all its faculties, was the hope of satisfaction, or vengeance,
if you will, for so many ages of guilty tyranny. The tears, the burning
and blood of nearly one thousand years seemed to letter the eastern sky,
as day dawned upon my way. Apprehension, I had none. From earliest
childhood to that hour, I never met one Irishman whose hope of hope it
was not to deliver the country forever from English thrall. I had lived
amidst all ranks (at least in their characters of politicians), had
known the sentiments of all, from the most ignorant peasant to the very
highest official of government; and then or now, I would find it
difficult to say where hatred to English domination--English power in
Ireland is neither government nor dominion--reigned the most intensely.
Some men there are by nature cowards, and they would shrink from the
perils of national deliverance; but if any sentiment could be said to
live in natures so grovelling, the grudge against England, even though
too craven to make itself audible, constitutes the essence of their
mental vitality. Some there are, too, so selfish as to sell their own
and their families' honour for gold; but as they count their sordid
gains, if they fall short by a scruple, whether in fact or in
anticipation, the deficiency becomes a heap of hoarded spite against
England. One man of that class, whom I had known, will furnish a
conclusive example. Trusted and paid by the Whigs, he was a supreme West
Briton, who saw in his country but a prey for meaner cormorants;
distrusted and dismissed by the Tories, he would storm the Castle, even
with the baton of the English office from which, he had been discarded.
Others, also, of a loftier stamp, were reined in, in the path of
allegiance[B], by considerations more justifiable, yet more or less
cowardly in character.

[Illustration: Ballingarry, Slievenamon in the distance, 1848]

Some doubted the ability of their country to effect her redemption. Some
doubted the capacity, and perhaps the sincerity, of the chiefs. Some
were schooled in duplicity, and under the ermine, or under the privy
councillor's robe, carried fierce hearts, benumbed by mendicancy and
seared by shame. But the first flash of their country's liberty would
see them ranged at that country's side, repaying with the fiercest hate
the beggar crumbs which England had flung from the fragments of her
overloaded table. It is true enough that a long course of corruption,
beginning with the perjured peer and ending with the tidewaiter, had
created a class of conditional loyalists, with nine-tenths of which the
condition is always unfulfilled; while, in its very fulfilment, the
other one-tenth has found but bitterness, the "sauce piquante" of their
daily bread. But as a general rule, such a thing as a pure Irish
loyalist does not exist. Its possible existence presupposes an absurdity
in nature. An Irishman cannot become loyal to English domination,
without divesting himself of the last attribute of his nature, not as an
Irishman, but as a man.

The knowledge of this fact was my "base of operations." Ten thousand
armed men successful against a garrison of five hundred would produce a
more abundant crop of avenging warriors than the fabled dragon's teeth,
and that simultaneously through every square mile of the island. In ten
days there would be two millions of Irishmen in arms. It may well be
asked, what arms? But even instinct will reply, what arms would be
needed? England had in Ireland less than forty thousand men, and,
without hazarding the question, how many of them could she rely on, it
requires no consummate military genius to suggest how they could be
dealt with by a simultaneous rising of the country. The arms of her
enemies would then be hers. She would have time to form a regular army
to aid her undisciplined strength. England's position at home, where she
had not a soldier to spare; her condition abroad, where she was beaten
to the wall; and her relations with foreign powers would achieve the
rest. To a successful Irish revolution, a _coup-de-main_ is
indispensable; and a _coup-de-main_ would be incompatible with any
organised plan other than existed. It will be seen at once that for this
place details are unfit. The above sketch rather comprehends the bolder
outlines of an insurrection in action, and they suggest nothing to warn
the enemy as to future operations. The prospect they presented to me--a
prospect which long contemplation seemed to have realised into
fact--excluded from my mind the preliminary and intermediate
considerations of time, place, and other circumstances. There was but
one of any importance, the success of the commencement; and that seemed
beyond all question if, as I hoped, the neighbourhood of Carrick-on-Suir
were selected. As I approached that town in the grey of morning, and the
past and the future in burning recollection thronged on my brain, I
envied the destiny which God had awarded to its inhabitants, in breaking
the first link of the slavery of nearly twenty generations. This, alas,
was a dream. The people of Carrick had already, with shrinking hand,
marred their own immortal lot.

Arriving at the house of John O'Mahony, one of the truest of living
Irishmen, I heard what follows. On the previous day Messrs. O'Brien,
Dillon and Meagher had arrived at Carrick. Their arrival was unexpected,
sudden and startling. They had apprised no one of their approach; and no
counsel had been taken or decision come to. It is needless to say that
the crowd which gathered to see them, when the intelligence of their
arrival spread, came unarmed and unprepared. The speeches addressed to
them were brief, determined, and to this effect: "We learned," said the
chiefs, "that an act was passed authorising the Irish Government to
seize our persons without even the imputation of a crime. You have vowed
to strive with us in every extremity, and die with us if need be. We are
here to demand the redemption of your pledge, in the name of your
enslaved country. The hour has come when the truth of that country is to
be tested; and first among her children the trust of her honour is
committed to you." How much more might have been said, and how far short
of the passionate appeal made by the most gifted of men the above
language may fall, this is not the place to inquire. The crowd answered
with a loud shout. With the leaders of that crowd other thoughts were
busy. Some of them waited on the "Traitors"; others, and the most
influential, absented themselves. Among the latter was the Rev. Mr.
Byrne, who, up to that hour, had taken an advanced position among those
who were most forward in the cause of the country. Not a fortnight
before, he delivered a speech to nearly one hundred thousand persons in
the town of Carrick, pre-eminently insurrectionary in its tendency; and
he had acted more than once as controller and regulator of the violent
passions his own vehemence aroused. For this duty, which he effectively
discharged because of his known disloyalty, he received the public
approval of England's Prime Minister. From all these circumstances, the
responsibilities of his position were such as it would require great
hardihood of character to shrink from. It was reported at the time that
he did not rest content with abandoning a post which he had attained
with intense ambition, but exerted his utmost influence with the people
against an enterprise which he designated as rash, ill-designed, and
fraught with ruin to the town. This report has been repeated as a fact
by the present writer, and has not been contradicted by the Rev. Mr.
Byrne. But it is right to add that a very respectable gentleman, a
witness of that day's proceedings, has distinctly contradicted it. He
added that the Rev. Mr. Byrne remained a passive spectator; and he
defended the conduct of those who really influenced the people, on the
ground that the preparations seemed of their very nature to preclude the
possibility of success; and that it was the sacred duty of every man
capable of appreciating the position and resources of the people, the
difficulties of the enterprise and the consequences of failure, not
alone to Carrick but the entire island, at all hazards to prevent a
useless wreck and slaughter. The great argument relied upon by every one
was, why should Carrick be selected? The same question would apply
everywhere else; and if the consideration it involves were to avail,
there never could be a revolution. However, in Carrick it seems to have
prevailed. Other arguments, no doubt, were urged, such as want of
provisions, want of arms and want of ammunition. The moment of
indecision is the harvest of evil passions--avarice, selfishness,
cowardice cloud the intellect, and blast the destiny of man. There is
some doubt as to who principally superinduced this indecision and the
judgment which here ranks it with a faulty weakness and a fearful
fatality refuses to question the motives upon which it was based.

One singular fact, attested by all, deserves particular notice. It is
this: The other Roman Catholic clergymen of Carrick did not then
interfere. They had been always opposed, on other grounds, to the Irish
Confederation; but in that hour of fate they were silent.

Mr. O'Brien and his comrades left the town deeply disappointed, if not
in actual disgust and despair. They were ignorant of my absence from
Cashel and determined to join me there. When I had learned this, I was
thirty miles from that town and knew that they had arrived there during
the night, and had, long before then, taken some decisive course. My
hope was that the town was in their hands. But, before I could decide on
what it became me to do, a messenger arrived from Cashel, directing me
to remain where I was, and conveying an assurance that Cashel was by
that time captured. Mr. Meagher immediately followed, confirming the
intelligence. He was on his way to Waterford. We immediately determined
on scouring the country along the bases of Slievenamon and the
Slatequarry hills, which stretch into the county Kilkenny. During that
journey the enthusiasm of the people was measureless. At every forge,
pikes were manufactured, the carpenter was at work fitting the handles,
and the very women were employed in polishing and sharpening these
weapons on the rough mountain stones. We called at several villages, and
were surrounded by the young men and the aged, by matron and maid, and
from no lips did one sound of complaint, or discouragement, or fear
fall. Everywhere hope and resolution and courage lit up the hearts and
eyes of young and old. We rode, at least a distance of twenty miles, and
returned assured that there was not one man within that district who was
not then prepared and would not be armed ere night came. We appointed
the chapel of Ballyneal, within two miles of Carrick, as the place of
rendezvous, determined to act according to the intelligence which we
might receive from Cashel. Meantime deputations from Carrick waited upon
us, to assure us the people there would follow us notwithstanding any
advice they might have received. We agreed that we would not attack the
town, and required five hundred men for another enterprise. A short time
afterwards some directions were required, and I wrote one or two
sentences on a scrap of paper which was taken from the messenger by the
Rev. Mr. Byrne and torn. What his influencing motives might have been I
know not, nor do I care to inquire. My first impulse was immediately to
appear in the town and throw myself on the protection of the people. My
friend dissuaded me from this attempt and proposed to go into town
himself, which he could do without danger, to ascertain what would be
the probability of my proposal's success. After two or three anxious
hours, he returned, impressed with the conviction that such an attempt
would be fatal.

By this time crowds began to assemble at the place of rendezvous before
alluded to, and word was brought us that the Reverend Mr. Morrissey, the
parish priest of that place, was endeavouring to disperse them. Owing to
his character, there was not much to be apprehended from his influence
with the people. His associations had been with the aristocracy, and
most of his friendships and sympathies contracted at the fox-covert, or
on the "Stand House." This is mentioned, not in disparagement of the
man, but for the purpose of rescuing his Order from imputations
attaching to his conduct alone. The very fact of his interference would
suggest the conclusion that the course he recommended was opposed to the
general sentiments of his brethren; so we felt at this time. But we
mistook his influence with the people. It was reported to us that he
used certain arguments, incredible, because blasphemous. But the
argument which succeeded, and which all alike attested, was this, "that
he would put himself at the head of the people if they but waited three
weeks."

Influenced by this promise, the people had dispersed before my friend
arrived at the place of rendezvous. He returned to me sadly discouraged,
after a day and night of labour and agitation as intense as ever
strained the energies of man. I then determined to ride on to Cashel, to
learn the fate of Mr. O'Brien and his comrades. I was accompanied by two
young farmers, well armed. We arrived about midnight at Brookhill,
where I was made acquainted with all that had occurred at Cashel.

The history was more melancholy than our own. My absence was used as an
argument, sincere or pretended, against any effort in that town. Mr.
O'Brien, in ignorance of whom to apply to, took counsel with one man at
least, since accused of the darkest treachery. Others, from whom I had
different hopes, shrank from an encounter which, at other times, they
seemed to long for as the dearest blessing Heaven could bestow. There no
clergymen interfered--the people were left to act for themselves; but it
must be admitted that the actual people never had an opportunity of
proving their courage. A young friend of mine, who had all my trust, and
justified it by unshaken fidelity through many a trial, was despatched
to the country to procure assistance, but he applied to the wrong
source, and, deluded by the character of him to whom he had spoken,
returned under the mistaken conviction that from the country nothing was
to be expected.

This decided Mr. O'Brien and his friends. He had been joined at Cashel
by P.J. Smyth, and James Cantwell, now in the United States, by James
Stephens, now at Paris, and by Patrick O'Donohoe, now sharing the doom
of his chief. As an episode in this history, the fate of Mr. O'Donohoe
is singular and startling. He was much relied on by his friends in the
Confederation, and was entrusted with the dispatches to Mr. O'Brien. He
proceeded on his mission to Kilkenny, and there applied to one of the
clubs. He was known to none of the members, and became at once the
object of suspicion. It was, accordingly, determined to send him for
the rest of the journey, under arrest, and Stephens and another member
were appointed to that duty. They proceeded in execution of their
mission to Cashel, where Mr. O'Donohoe was warmly welcomed by Mr.
O'Brien, whose fate he thenceforth determined to share. Mr. Stephens
came to the same resolution; but the other guard of Mr. O'Donohoe,
refused to commit himself to fortunes which appeared so desperate. With
Messrs. Stephens and O'Donohoe, their very desperation acted as the most
ennobling and irresistible inducement. They clung to him to the last
with a fidelity the more untiring in proportion as his circumstances
portended imminent disaster and ruin.

Their departure from Cashel compelled a feeling of gloomier forebodings
and deeper despair than they had yet experienced. The darkest
consciousness that ever clouded the hopes of man began to darken upon
them. Where they expected that every man would make a fortress for them
in his very heart, they were almost abandoned. But their resolution
remained unchanged. They, therefore, resolved as a final resource to
take up their position in the most inaccessible part of the country. As
they proceeded through the hilly grounds, skirting the Tipperary
collieries, a crowd began to gather around them, and they saw what they
hoped would form the nucleus of an army. Braver hearts never beat
beneath a cuirass, but they were not armed, disciplined or even taught.
On that day they took the road to the village of Mullinahone, situate
about seventeen miles south-east of Cashel. As they entered Mullinahone,
the chapel bell was rung, and a crowd of some thousands collected.

Mr. O'Brien addressed them with the same brevity and force as at
Carrick-on-Suir, where his hopes were far brighter. The two clergymen,
Rev. Mr. Corcoran and Rev. Mr. Cahill, appeared by his side, and openly
resisted his advice. But, with the people, their influence totally
failed. Three thousand persons at least formed their bivouac that night.
Mr. O'Brien remained up with them most of the night. Notwithstanding the
disappointments of former trials, he once more entertained most sanguine
hopes of his country's resurrection. But, ere morning, the counsels of
the clergymen prevailed so far as to introduce discussion and disunion;
and next day he was abandoned by more than half his followers. Once more
the priests interfered and openly remonstrated against the course Mr.
O'Brien had proposed. They tried every means, entreaty, expostulation,
remonstrance, menace, but without any considerable effect; and Mr.
O'Brien left the town with a large multitude, directing his way to
Ballingarry. The village of Ballingarry is about four miles distant from
Mullinahone; and the inhabitants of the latter accompanied Mr. O'Brien
to the boundaries of the former parish, whose inhabitants in turn
assumed the duty of his escort and, if need be, of his defence. When the
cavalcade reached the village, they took up their position in the
chapel-yard, and summoned the neighbouring people by the ringing of the
chapel bell. A great number of people answered the signal, and Mr.
O'Brien explained to them his purpose and his hopes. He did not then
propose any plan of immediate offensive operations, but stated in
general terms that his object was to protect himself from arrest, while
the country would be engaged in organisation, and the crop coming to
maturity. An idea prevailed among the people that he only wished to be
protected for a time, and they seemed incapable of appreciating either
his object or his motives. I reached the spot as the assembly was
breaking up and the people retiring in small groups to their respective
districts, some four or five hundred who were partially armed, remaining
in the village. I was accompanied by Thos. D. Reilly, who made his way
to me on that morning. We had entered into arrangements with certain men
whom we met in the morning as to a joint movement, for which the
followers of Mr. O'Brien seemed but ill-adapted and prepared. Our first
care was to take counsel as to the future. We detailed mutually to each
other the respective circumstances which had shaped our movements so
far, and with which it was our duty then to contend. But one thing
seemed quite clear; namely, that the country demanded a delay of at
least a month. Although the sincerity of the motive on which this demand
was founded seemed questionable to many, there was no way of
counteracting its effect or denying its universality. The question then
was, how was the demand to be complied with without compromising our
liberty or the position we occupied? It was argued that the necessity of
our condition would justify any act which would reassure the minds of
the people in reference to the apprehension of starvation, which was so
sedulously inculcated, and that a proclamation should forthwith be
published confiscating the landed property of the country, and offering
it as the gage of battle and reward of victory, and another proclamation
directing the people to live at the expense of the enemy. This proposal
was resisted on the ground that it required an aggressive act on the
part of the Government to justify so sweeping a proceeding, which, if
attempted by us in our then position, would be regarded as an act of
mere plunder, unredeemed by any of the stern necessities of war. So
decided the majority. It was then proposed that we should scatter, and
take shelter individually as best we could until harvest time. But Mr.
O'Brien refused to hear counsel which involved, as its first principle,
the idea of becoming fugitives. A middle course was therefore decided
on. It could not fairly be said that the country had been tested, and we
were not, at the time, aware how far people at a distance were prepared
to second our efforts. The strength of the Government, too, seemed
paralysed. For miles on miles around, one solitary soldier or policeman
was not to be found. The small garrisons had been withdrawn, and all the
available forces stationed in the county had been concentrated in the
large towns. The idea of maintaining our position for a few weeks seemed
not at all improbable; and, meantime, we would have an opportunity of
organising the distant parts of the country, and of preparing those then
around us for active service. When men differ, a compromise is sure to
prevail. It did so on that occasion, and it was accordingly resolved,
that we should return to the neighbourhood of Carrick, wait the arrival
of the expected assistance from Waterford, and keep the neighbouring
garrison of Clonmel in awe, by signal-fires by night and scattered
parties by day. We immediately returned and rode most part of the night
on our way back. We slept a few hours at Brookhill and had interviews
next morning with men who, on the previous day, were in high heart and
hopes. We at once saw the effect that delay and indecision had produced
on their minds. Reports, the most contradictory and false, respecting
what Mr. O'Brien proposed and stated, had found their way among them,
and it took hours to reassure them. They again promised us to be ready,
however, and we proceeded across Slievenamon. On our journey we had
interviews with the leaders of clubs and of other bodies, and at each
step we found the difficulties of our position and the weakness of
public confidence fearfully increased. We still hoped that the arrival
of assistance which we expected from Waterford would restore unanimity
and confidence.

When we reached Kilcash, at the southern base of Slievenamon, we learned
that all hope of the expected assistance was at an end. Mr. Meagher had
returned; and having despatched O'Mahony to Mr. O'Brien, to request he
would once more return to the neighbourhood of the mountain, where he
either could be more safely concealed for a time, or a last desperate
effort could be made under better auspices, he waited several hours
after the time appointed for his return, and then departed towards the
direction of Borrisoleigh, in the northern riding of Tipperary,
accompanied by Mr. Maurice Leyne, with whom unhappily he fell in, and to
whose weak counsel, according to the information I received, much of his
subsequent ill fate was owing. The distance to Borrisoleigh could not be
less than forty miles. Mr. Meagher must have been persuaded by
O'Mahony's delay, that Mr. O'Brien had been driven from his position,
and perhaps captured, or he would not have undertaken so long a journey,
the sole motive of which could only be the hope of rousing, with the aid
of the Rev. Mr. Kenyon, that district of the country, so as to rescue
his chief or avenge him. It was then apparent that our position had
become desperate. We instantly proceeded to the house of our friend, who
recounted the particulars of his visit to Ballingarry, and its results.
He agreed in the propriety of going a second time to meet Mr. O'Brien,
and urging upon him the necessity of some decisive course. The startling
events of the two preceding days too clearly proved that his position
was not tenable, and that whatever might be resolved on, it was
indispensable to remove from Ballingarry. It was then night, and we were
all sorely taxed by long riding and want of rest. Not one of us was able
to mount, so we placed hay in a car on which we flung ourselves, and
trusted to the guidance of the boy who led the horse. We travelled about
nine miles in this way, one endeavouring to act as sentinel while the
others were asleep; but we found that unless we trusted to blind chance,
we could not continue our journey. So, half by force and half by
persuasion, we obtained liberty to stretch on a pallet in an empty room.
Mr. O'Brien was then snatching a little broken rest in a field, not four
miles away from us, without our being aware of the fact. In the morning
we learned that he remained there only while a car was procured at
Mullinahone, and then returned to the neighbourhood of the collieries.
He left Ballingarry on the advice contained in Mr. Meagher's message,
and, accompanied by some hundreds of his followers, proceeded towards
Carrick through the town of Mullinahone where for the third time he had
to encounter the open hostility of the Catholic clergymen, who on this
occasion had recourse to threats and even blows. Owing to their
interference, one-fourth of those who followed him so far, did not
accompany him outside the town. He was nearly deserted, when he changed
his resolution of falling back on his former position. When the car
arrived he proceeded directly to the town of Killenaule, which might be
said to be the head-quarters of the colliery. There he and his
companions entered the hotel, where they remained till morning. Early
that day the chapel bell was rung, and a great multitude flocked into
the town. They were, as usual in that quarter, miserably armed. But they
were enthusiastic, and the Catholic priests did not interfere. While the
bell was tolling, intelligence was received that a troop of dragoons was
approaching. The people immediately erected a barricade at the farthest
extremity of the principal street. It was constructed of empty carts and
baulks of timber. The moment the troop entered the street, a similar
barricade was constructed in the rear. The hotel was situated between
the two barricades. The officer in command made no demonstration of
active resistance; and as he approached the last barricade he was
surrounded by a great multitude. A few of the people were armed with
rifles and muskets, others with pitchforks, scythes and slanes, and
others had no weapons but stones. John Dillon stood at the barricade.
The officer asked why his passage was interrupted, and stated he was
only on an ordinary march. Mr. Dillon demanded whether his object was
to arrest Smith O'Brien? He said emphatically, No. Mr. Dillon then asked
if he would pledge his honour as a soldier, that he had no intention of
arresting Mr. O'Brien, adding, that if he did so, the troop would be
allowed to pass unmolested. He unhesitatingly pledged his honour, and
immediately the barricade was partially removed. Mr. Dillon took his
horse by the bridle and led him out of the town.

We were approaching Killenaule by another route when Mr. O'Brien and his
party left it by the high road to the collieries. We followed, and after
a race of some ten miles overtook them near Lisnabrock. Thence we
proceeded in cars to Boulagh, and thence to the Commons. This was on
Friday evening, the 28th day of July. We retired to an upper room in a
publichouse. There were then present Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Dillon, Mr.
Stephens, Mr. Cantwell, Mr. Meagher, Mr. O'Donohoe, Mr. Maurice Leyne,
Mr. Reilly, Mr O'Mahony and myself, with others whose names I cannot
mention, fourteen, as well as I remember, in all.[10] The same questions
that were discussed on the former day were again revived, and we, who
felt the necessity of the bold course we recommended then, were much
more convinced of it under the altered circumstances of our position.

The debate was long and warm, but Mr. O'Brien's objections were even
more immovable than ever. It will not be expected that all the proposals
of that evening should be reproduced here. Suffice it, therefore, to
add that as far as the principles by which Mr. O'Brien's conduct was
guided, he adhered to them the more steadfastly in proportion as ruin
became more inevitable. Many calumnies have been circulated respecting
that meeting. It has been said that the discussion was acrimonious and
the separation final. The truth is, there was not one word, even, of an
angry tone, and we separated just as on the former occasion, determined
to cope as best we could with a doom we were unable to avert. Often
afterwards it was a source of melancholy pleasure to some of his
comrades that he had not been induced to incur what he regarded as
guilt. The lofty consciousness of unerring rectitude which sustained his
fortitude could not fail to be chequered by the recollection of acts
which in his own estimation were not purely blameless. Had success
attended the suggested proposals, they would receive the world's
unqualified approval; while failure, explained through the medium of a
malicious law, and a warped and cowardly public opinion, would brand
them as iniquitous. But Mr. O'Brien's scrupulous sense of honour escaped
the hazards of such feeble probabilities; and in the hour of deepest
gloom his own unsullied conscience shed peace, light and glory on his
fate.

[Illustration: A Street in Ballingarry, 1848]

Some of his companions exulted in the morning scene at Killenaule. To
_seem_ able to capture a troop of her majesty's dragoons, they regarded
as a victory. But others, more thoughtful and correct, mourned over the
escape of the military, which was only to be justified on the ground
that the incongruous force around the feeble barricades, would be
unequal to the task. It is a singular thing that while Captain Longmore
utterly despaired of forcing his way, Mr. Dillon was fully conscious of
his inability to resist him. The latter assumed a superiority he was
unable to sustain, the former abjured a design which it was criminal
according to the civil, and cowardly according to the military code, not
to attempt the execution of Mr. Dillon, who led his horse, was a
proclaimed "traitor." So was Mr. O'Brien, whose presence was avowed; by
virtue of his allegiance, and still more, by virtue of his commission he
was bound to arrest them. To neglect it was cowardice, cognisable by a
court-martial and punishable by death. There could be but one
justification--utter inability to effect the service. The evidence,
then, that could alone satisfy a court-martial must directly contradict
that which Captain Longmore offered at the trial in Clonmel. But while
Mr. O'Brien viewed the conduct of Captain Longmore as cowardly
submission, it would be unjust to conclude that it imparted a single
shade of inflexibility to his principles or purpose. On the contrary,
they assumed their attributes of most rigid sternness as his fortunes
became clouded by a deeper gloom. He was averse to everything which bore
the stamp of desperation, or could possibly imply a shrinking from fate.

Of those who took part in the deliberations of that evening, Messrs.
Dillon, Stephens, MacManus and O'Donohoe resolved to continue with Mr.
O'Brien. There seemed a possibility, though a desperate one, that they
could baffle the enemy for the time the country required, and maintain
their position of open defiance, whilst we, in different parts of the
country, should keep up an appearance of force, so as to distract
attention and check any attempt to despatch a force from the garrison of
Clonmel. Meantime we were to endeavour to organise a force, and, if
strong enough, act on our own responsibilities and according to our own
principles. We left him about nine o'clock in the evening, after the
best dispositions available out of the number with us were made to
prevent surprise during the night. Soon after our departure he strongly
advised Mr. Dillon to leave for another part of the country. I proposed
to take up my post on Slievenamon, where I would be in the best position
to fulfil Mr. O'Brien's wishes; where, at all events, I could escape
arrest, in spite of any efforts to capture me, and where I expected, in
a few days, to rally a considerable force. Mr. Meagher said he would
take his stand on the Comeragh mountains, in the county of Waterford,
with similar views and purposes. Mr. Meagher and Mr. Leyne, with three
or four others, travelled together on a car. We dismissed ours, and
crossed the country. Next day we arrived once more at Brookhill, which
is within about one mile of Fethard, where we were able to procure a car
that brought Mr. Reilly as far as Kilkenny. The first care of us who
remained was to fulfil the commission assigned us. A young friend, of
whom mention has been already made, joined me that evening. He had been
two days in search of me, and was greatly exhausted by anxiety and
fatigue. Rumours of various kinds were rife. But, what was most
disheartening was that the courage of the people was fast subsiding. Men
who were most eager for deeds of any daring two days previously, began
to exhibit symptoms of hesitation, doubt, and even indifference. But a
far sadder disaster had elsewhere befallen. Mr. O'Brien, after a night
of anxious care, was still full of hope. He was even then engaged in
drawing up a manifesto, embracing, as far as possible in such a
document, the motives and causes which suggested and justified an armed
revolt, and the principles upon which it was to be conducted. Whether
the draft was destroyed or fell into the hands of the Government, is not
now clear, save in as far as the non-production of the paper at his
trial, is evidence that it never reached his persecutors. The leading
principle of his entire conduct was, that the property, the liberty, the
destiny of the island belonged to the entire people, and that the
institutions which guaranteed them should be the calm embodiment of the
nation's deliberate judgment, ascertained through the medium of a free
assembly, deriving its authority from universal suffrage. This was one
potent reason why he refused to assume, either as military leader, or as
the chief of a provisional government, the responsibility of an act
which could be regarded as the basis of the future government of
Ireland. He was scrupulously anxious that the great principles upon
which the future liberty of Ireland was to be based, should emanate from
the free will of the people, uncontrolled by dictatorial power or
personal prestige.

But Mr. O'Brien was not destined to accomplish the object of his
solicitude. About twelve o'clock on the morning of Saturday, the 29th
day of July, he was apprised of the approach of a body of police, under
command of Captain Trant. Simultaneously with the appearance of the
police, an indiscriminate crowd, composed for the most part of women
and boys with a few armed men, ranged themselves around him. They
occupied an eminence in front of the road by which the police
approached. Another road crossed this at right angles, and Captain
Trant, instead of leading his men directly against Mr. O'Brien's
position, denied along the cross-road to the right hand--that which led
to the Widow M'Cormick's. The motive of this manoeuvre was obvious.
Either from personal cowardice, or from cool judgment, he determined to
await further reinforcements, and, meantime, to secure some place of
shelter and defence. The crowd, with Mr. O'Brien, immediately rushed
from their position and hung fiercely on the policemen's rear. Captain
Trant ordered a retreat, or those under his command adopted that
precaution without his authority. The armed leaders among the people,
Messrs. MacManus, Stephens and Cavanagh, hesitated to fire on troops
flying for their lives. But they urged the pursuit so rapidly, that, by
the time the police took shelter in Mrs. M'Cormick's house, they were
hot upon their track. The crowd surrounded the house, and Mr. O'Brien,
approaching one of the front windows, called on Captain Trant to
surrender. The latter demanded half an hour to consider, which Mr.
O'Brien unhappily granted. Pending the half hour, the crowd became
furious and began to fling stones in through the windows. Some of the
men inside were knocked down by the stones, and the officer hurt. Seeing
that their own leaders could no longer control the people, and believing
the destruction of himself and his party to be inevitable, Captain Trant
gave orders to his men to fire, which presented his only chance of
escape. Mr. O'Brien immediately rushed between the people and the
window, on one of which he jumped up, and once more demanded the officer
to surrender. But the order to fire had been given and executed with
deadly effect. Two men fell dead, and several were badly wounded. The
crowd fell back; but Mr. O'Brien remained still in front of the house.
There were several windows in front and two small ones only in the rear;
parallel with the rear was a barn, in which there were two still smaller
windows. Messrs. Stephens and MacManus took possession of this house,
and, placing three or four sure marksmen inside for the purpose of
taking down any of the police who should appear at the back windows,
they proposed to burn the house in which the police took shelter. They
carried bundles of hay and placed them against the back door and roof.
The police seized on Mrs. M'Cormick's children, and held them up to the
windows, to terrify or appease the people. At this juncture the Catholic
clergymen appeared on the scene. Either, being appalled by the scene of
death before them, or being personally cowardly, or feeling that to
continue the conflict would be productive of useless slaughter, they
exerted themselves to the utmost to disperse the crowd. Whatever may
have been their motives, it is certain that, although Mr. O'Brien was in
the neighbourhood since the previous Wednesday, they had not in any way
interfered, and only came upon the scene to attend to the dying and the
dead. Mr. O'Brien and his comrades, finding themselves beset by this
unexpected difficulty, retired a short distance, to consider what was
best to be done. The people were again quickly forming around them, and
all were hurriedly preparing to storm the house, when a fresh body of
police was seen approaching from the opposite direction. This force
consisted of sixty men; the first only amounted to forty-five. Constable
Carroll rode on considerably in advance of his party. He found himself
suddenly surrounded, and was forced to surrender and dismount. He and
two others of the advance-guard were removed. But the main body
continued to approach rapidly; and Mr. O'Brien was not in a position and
had not strength to intercept their junction with the other body. His
friends pressed Mr. O'Brien to retreat, which he refused. Admitting,
fully, his inability to cope with these forces, he declined to avail
himself of the means of escape at his disposal. His comrades impressed
on him that his life belonged to the country; that another effort was
yet within the range of possibility, and that it was incumbent on him to
save himself for the final issue. By long and passionate entreaty, they
induced him to mount the police-officer's horse and retire. When he had
left, Messrs. Stephens and MacManus led off the remainder of their
party, without being pursued or molested.

After a short consultation, they determined to separate. Mr. Stephens
proposed to go on to Urlingford, where a large force was collecting, and
MacManus accepted the duty of bearing to us the intelligence of the
disaster, and taking chance with us for the future. He came up with Mr.
Meagher, Mr. O'Donohoe, and Mr. Leyne, who were then on their way to the
Comeragh mountains, but changed their purpose on hearing this sad
intelligence. They remained that night at the house of a man named
Hanrahan, near Nine-mile House, a small village on the high road from
Kilkenny to Cork.

I was all this time ignorant of what occurred. After Mr. Reilly had left
me, and I was joined by the young friend already mentioned, I summoned
as many of the farmers of the neighbourhood as I could collect, and it
was agreed that ten of them, who would represent each one hundred men,
should meet me next day, after divine service, at the wood of
Keilavalla, situate near the western base of Slievenamon. We were to be
joined by two others from the neighbourhood of Carrick-on Suir, from
which we were distant about ten miles. On that morning the news of Mr.
O'Brien's disaster spread far, and was, of course, exaggerated. I had
slept the previous night not far from the mountain, where I was watched
by two brothers named Walsh, who lived at Brookhill, but have since
removed to the United States. I gladly avail myself of this occasion to
attest their fidelity and bravery. At the time appointed, my friend and
I proceeded to the place of rendezvous. We remained for hours, and
remained in vain. At last one only of the ten arrived. He told us that
at the chapel the Rev. Patrick Laffan read the names of the proscribed
traitors for whose persons a reward was offered....

We continued on the mountain during the remainder of the day; and toward
evening about fifty men came up to us, who, one and all, expressed the
utmost indignation at what had happened. Once more our hopes revived. If
Mr. O'Brien could avoid arrest for a few weeks only, we expected that a
sense of shame would sting the country to desperate exertion.

After night-fall we descended, and slept at a farmer's house at the
southern base of the mountain, where we were most kindly entertained and
sedulously guarded. We there heard of the Ballingarry disaster. Next
morning we once more ascended Slievenamon, where we endeavoured to
dissipate the heavy hours and the still heavier consciousness at our own
hearts by firing at a mark. The day suddenly darkened, and we had to
seek shelter under rocks from a pitiless mountain shower. We had
dispatched a messenger to O'Mahony to demand an interview that evening;
and, after he had returned, we were invited to partake of some new
potatoes (then beginning to exhibit the blight), milk, eggs and butter.
I remember lying down in a bed, and getting so feverish that I believed
my doom was sealed. My noble young friend sat at my bedside, with a
rifle and two pistols, prepared to defend my rest with his life. The
illness was, however, but trifling and temporary, and the necessity of
acting enabled me at once to shake it off. After nightfall, we proceeded
to the appointed interview. We travelled in a common car, accompanied by
four others, all armed. Our haunt was a poor cabin on the roadside, near
a place called Moloch, in the neighbourhood of Carrick. There I bid my
faithful young friend good night, but was doomed not to see him
afterwards. Mr. O'Mahony and myself slept on some straw, but we had
scarcely closed our eyes when we learned that the cabin was surrounded
by the military and police. We were apprised of our perilous position
just in time to escape: this we effected, after a struggle, aided by
extreme darkness. We spent the remainder of the night in a field, where
I slept very soundly. At break of day we retired to a farmer's house
near the Suir, where, after partaking of some refreshments, we went to
bed, and slept, one or two hours. The breakfast scene of that morning is
not easily forgotten. Perhaps there is no place in the world where a
more substantial breakfast can be produced than at a comfortable Irish
farmer's. On this occasion the silent, watchful, anxious grace of our
young hostess, in her attentions, enhanced the flavour of the repast. It
is only by those who have partaken of such hospitality that the
speechless tenderness of the females among that class of farmers can be
appreciated. But on the occasion to which I refer, there was added to
the customary delicacy a deep anxiety for our fate. Save hushed words of
pressing and eloquent looks of sympathy, the meal passed off without
conversation; and we rose from the table to depart, as if conscious we
had exchanged our last earthly greeting. It was not so, however, and our
hostess shared much of our after fortune, and now shares our exile. Her
fate, too, is harder than ours. We are occasionally cheered by public
approval, by the sympathy and admiration of every lover of liberty,
whereas her name is never spoken. She has fallen from a position of
comparative affluence, lost her independence (I use the word in its
practical worldly sense), and is doomed to toil for her daily bread. Of
all the vicissitudes of fortune in which the attempt of which I write
resulted, there is not one that has given me more pain than that of
Margaret Quinlan, the lady (who has higher claims to that title?) to
whom I have alluded.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 10: The other four were Terence Bellew MacManus, John
Cavanagh, J.D. Wright (a T.C.D. student, afterwards a lawyer in
America), and D.P. Cunningham, afterwards a journalist in New
York.--Ed.]




CHAPTER VIII

ARREST OF MR. O'BRIEN, OF MESSRS. MEAGHER AND O'DONOHOE.--ARREST OF
TERENCE BELLEW MACMANUS.--CLONMEL SPECIAL COMMISSION.--TRIAL,
CONVICTION, SPEECHES AND SENTENCE OF THE REBELS.--WRIT OF
ERROR.--COMMUTATION OF SENTENCE.--TRANSPORTATION OF THE HEROES.


Before proceeding further with the details of my own wanderings, I wish
to follow out to its conclusion the fate of those whom we parted with at
Ballingarry, and were destined to see no more, though, in doing so, I
must anticipate the order of time, in which the events took place. My
task here is more difficult and painful than any detail of facts,
however gloomy. There are always in the reverses of the brave, some
glimpses of glory to reconcile us to the dark disasters on our way; but
when calumny pursues their path, gnawing, with ceaseless tooth, the
priceless jewel of their character, the historian must shudder to find
his labour beset by the filth and rubbish the viper has left behind. In
this instance, that lesson of Mr. O'Connell's which was the most fatal
in its influence, found many believers. It was said, and said
unscrupulously, that Mr. O'Brien and his followers were actual agents of
the British Government, suborned to precipitate the country into
revolution, for which they were to receive large possessions and
lucrative employment beyond the sea. It was the constant habit of Mr.
O'Connell, when any one proposed a course bolder than his own, to
suggest that he was doing the business of the enemy. He may have
adopted this course in his self-assumed character of Dictator, as the
surest and speediest means of clearing all obstructions out of his way.
Whatever his motive, it was an unworthy resource; for it supplied the
meanest minds with an example and a pretext for the gratification of
their own vile propensities. Their voice was heard, amid the silence of
mourning and death, when in an hour of universal dismay, John Mitchel
was borne from his loved fatherland; and still more audibly when the
dungeon closed on Smith O'Brien and his illustrious comrades. In the
latter instance, slander availed itself of an incident connected with
their arrest to justify its infamous conclusions. "If," it croaked,
"they were in earnest, why suffer themselves to be arrested so
easily?--Why come to the railway terminus?--Why parade on the high road
in front of a police barrack? In effect, why surrender?" But in Ireland
this was little heeded; nor should I deem it worthy of the least notice,
if it were not revived in the new world, under circumstances calculated
to give it credence and durability. At one time it is insinuated that
they "surrendered," such as "it was said they gave themselves up," and
immediately afterwards, in reference to the period or the fact, is to be
found "at the time of Mr. O'Brien's surrender." And again, in the same
breath, it is positively stated as a mere matter of course.

The propagator of this malignity knows it to be false. He knows also
that it serves the purpose of those who would charge the country's
truest and bravest with vilest treachery.

I shall pursue the theme no further. The truth is, Mr. O'Brien remained
among a people who were sorely stricken by terror. Their friends were
dead or scattered; and rumour, with a thousand tongues, multiplied the
most awful horrors which were said to be approaching them. Although they
received and sheltered Mr. O'Brien, he evidently saw that their
generosity cost them dearly, and that they were in the utmost alarm. His
own privations he could endure; but not the fear and suffering his
presence caused to others. This, and this only, determined him in the
first instance. He might also have hoped that if he could reach the
neighbourhood of his own home, he would be defended with desperate
fidelity. He was aware that Mr. Richard O'Gorman was in that district,
and he had been informed that he was followed by thousands. That he did
not seek to reach the county Limerick by some other means of
conveyance--by a car, on foot, or on horseback--may be a mistake of
judgment; but none would be free from peril: and had he escaped
detection at Thurles, there would not be the least danger, until he
reached Cahermoyle, as the rest of the journey would be entirely by
night. His sagacity may be questioned, perhaps, but it is extreme
villainy to question his purpose. He took that course only and solely
because he thought it the safest; and he had no more intention of
surrendering than I had when I crossed by the packet to Boulogne.

Mr. Meagher and Mr. O'Donohoe were arrested under circumstances over
which they had still less control. They were utterly unacquainted with
the country, and did not know, if they left the high road, but the first
house they might approach would be a police barrack. They had made every
attempt desperation could suggest to rouse the people, but in vain.
They were opposed by some, shunned by some, and from some they received
false counsel. They had exhausted the welcome of all who were inclined
to receive them, and they knew not one step of their way. Previously,
too, Mr. Meagher had peremptorily refused to avail himself of a mode of
escape provided for him and he equally peremptorily refused to listen to
any terms from Government, which did not include all his comrades. His
object, on the night he was arrested, was to make another trial at
Cashel, which he designed to approach by a circuitous route.

The 6th day of August was the date of Mr. O'Brien's arrest; the 13th of
August that of Messrs. Meagher and O'Donohoe, and the 7th of September
that of Mr. MacManus. Mr. O'Brien was taken at the Thurles railway
station; Messrs. Meagher and O'Donohoe, near Rathgannon, on the road
between Clonoulty and Holycross, about five miles from Thurles, and Mr.
MacManus on board the ship _N.D. Chase_, in the bay of Cove, on the 7th
of September. They were each conveyed to Kilmainham Jail, in the first
instance, where they remained until within a few days of the opening of
the special commission at Clonmel. This took place on Thursday, the 21st
of Sept., when the bills were found, but six days were allowed to Mr.
O'Brien and the rest of the prisoners to peruse the indictment, with
copies of which they were respectively furnished. On Thursday, the 28th,
the trial of Mr. O'Brien commenced; that of Mr. MacManus on the 9th of
October; that of Mr. O'Donohoe on the 13th, and that of Mr. Meagher on
the 16th.

Juries were empanelled in each case, from whose prejudice and bad faith
verdicts for high treason were expected, even though the evidence only
sustained a charge of common assault. Roman Catholics were, in the first
instance, scrupulously excluded; but after the first two verdicts one or
two were admitted, upon whose weakness of character, or genteel
aspirations, the Government might safely rely. It is but justice to say
that, according to the law expounded by the Bench, and the evidence
given on the table, any other verdict was not to be expected. But a jury
differently composed, a jury of Englishmen, with their country, their
liberties and their lives perilled to the last extremity by
misgovernment and maladministration of law, would have spurned the law
and the evidence, and relied on the great fundamental rights of humanity
so flagrantly outraged by the Government that then appeared as
prosecutors.

The scene presented by Clonmel excited much public surprise. Newspaper
correspondents magnified the sullen gloom that prevailed into popular
apathy or national cowardice, as suited the bent or purpose of their
employers. The truth was, the people exhibited during the trial a decent
and respectful forbearance. Empty parade or vociferous sorrow would only
mock the lofty purpose of the sufferers; and besides, the mortification
which rankled in the public heart was too deep for utterance. The hopes
of the people had been dashed, and they were stunned and stupefied by
their fall. But so far from being apathetic, nightly assemblages were
held to consider if, even in that extremity, something was not yet
possible to be done.

But, if there were a show of popular indifference on the streets, the
courthouse presented a very different spectacle. There everything
manifested an intense bitterness of purpose; the court, composed of the
two most unscrupulous partisans, Chief Justices Blackbourne and Doherty,
and the weakest or falsest political convert, Mr. Justice Moore,
simulated the uncontrollable emotions which an overweening loyalty awoke
in the bosom of the Catholic Attorney-General. So far were their
lordships swayed by the spirit of imitativeness, that the most polished
speakers, mistaking the incoherent jargon of the official for the broken
utterance of overwrought zeal and shocked loyalty, mimicked his
distempered language as the only befitting medium of expression for
disturbed feelings such as theirs. The simplest and most usual
facilities accorded to murderers and pickpockets on their trial were
rudely denied the counsel for the defence. The principles of law,
recognised in England as sacred, were scouted from the bench, and the
farce of trial proceeded through its different stages to the final
_denouement_ with perfect regularity, every one performing the part
assigned him with unerring accuracy.

Of the intrepid ability which struggled against this fearful combination
of bigotry, prejudice and passion, at the bar, on the bench and in the
box, I do not purpose to speak here. But I would be unfaithful to my
trust, and unjust to the rarest heroism, if I did not record the
fortitude and fidelity of O'Donnell, from whom the menaces of the crown,
or the frown of the bench, could not wring one word of evidence. In an
ordinary man, this would be singular intrepidity; but circumstanced
as O'Donnell was, it amounted to a Roman virtue. One brother of his, a
doctor, was in jail at Liverpool, charged with political felony; another
was hunted through the country, and another was in irons, involved in
the same charge as the illustrious accused; for them all he could
command his own terms, for much depended on his testimony; but though
doom were upon them, and a word of his could avert it, he refused to
speak. Honour be his. His integrity almost cancelled the shame and
darkness of those disastrous times.

[Illustration: The Widow McCormack's House, near Ballingarry]

I can add nothing to the testimony that established the fortitude,
manliness and dignity of the prisoners, as beyond precedent or example.
That their bearing, one and all, was truly noble, friends and foes took
pride in attesting.[11] It was a solemn and a glorious sight; and men,
through all time, will turn to that Clonmel dock to learn the
inestimable and imperishable value of sincere and lofty convictions and
a truly heroic soul.

Of the speeches that follow, it will be observed that Mr. O'Brien's was
delivered before the fate of his comrades was known. No man had ever
greater need of vindicating others if not himself. No man ever possessed
in a higher degree the capacity and strength to do so. He was satisfied
it was the last opportunity he would ever have on earth for
explanation. Yet, lest any sentiment of his might injuriously affect
those that were then, or might thereafter be on their trial, he forebore
to assert the principles of which he was there the martyr, and of which
he was more than ever proud. It was to the same unselfish sentiment he
yielded, when consenting to say, "Not guilty," to a charge he would have
felt the greatest glory in avowing.

I despair of conveying to my readers an adequate idea of the gloom and
horror of the scene in which those immortal words were spoken. Death,
near and terrible, was in the future. The recollection of ten days'
infamy peopled the present with ghastly images of evil. Vindictiveness
inexorable glared from the bench. The dust around the feet of the
speakers was laden with guilt. It would not rise to the briskest breeze,
beneath the clearest sky, in light summer air, so heavy had the tread of
murder been upon it. And oh, to think when they closed their eyes upon
this world, what deeper death they left their country ... Will no day of
vengeance come, O God! . . .

One of those benefits of the British constitution, which excites the
mortal envy of benighted "surrounding nations," is this, that the law
lies to the face of death, in the usual question addressed to the
condemned: "Whether he had anything to say why sentence of death and
execution should not be passed upon him?" when the most conclusive
reasons that ever innocence had to offer would be worse than vain. On
the morning of the 9th of October, 1848, this barbarous mockery was
addressed to William Smith O'Brien, and he answered thus:--

    MR. O'BRIEN.--"My lords, it is not my intention to enter into
    any vindication of my conduct, however much I might have desired
    to avail myself of this opportunity of so doing. I am perfectly
    satisfied with the consciousness that I have performed my duty
    to my country--that I have done only that which, in my opinion,
    it was the duty of every Irishman to have done, and I am now
    prepared to abide the consequences of having performed my duty
    to my native land. Proceed with your sentence." (Cheers in the
    gallery.)

On the morning of the 23rd of the same month, the same formula was
repeated to Terence Bellew MacManus, Patrick O'Donohoe, and Thomas
Francis Meagher, who replied respectively as follows:--

    MR. M'MANUS.--"My lords, I trust I am enough of a Christian and
    enough of a man to understand the awful responsibility of the
    question that has been put to me. My lords, standing on this my
    native soil--standing in an Irish court of justice, and before
    the Irish nation--I have much to say why the sentence of death,
    or the sentence of the law, should not be passed upon me. But,
    my lords, on entering this court, I placed my life, and what is
    of much more importance to me--my honour--in the hands of two
    advocates; and, my lords, if I had ten thousand lives, and ten
    thousand honours, I would be content to place them under the
    watchful and the glorious genius of the one and the high legal
    ability of the other. My lords, I am content. In that regard I
    have nothing to say. But I have a word to say, which no
    advocate, however anxious, can utter for me. I have this to say,
    my lords, that whatever part I may have taken through any
    struggle for my country's independence--whatever part I may have
    acted in that short career--I stand before your lordships now
    with a free heart, and with a light conscience, ready to abide
    the issue of your sentences. And now, my lords, perhaps this is
    the fittest time that I might put one sentiment on record, and
    it is this: Standing as I do between this dock and the scaffold;
    it may be now, or to-morrow, or it may be never; but whatever
    the result may be, I have this sentiment to put on record. That
    in any part I have taken, I have not been actuated by animosity
    to Englishmen. For I have spent some of the happiest and most
    prosperous days of my life in England; and in no part of my
    career have I been actuated by enmity to Englishmen, however
    much I may have felt the injustice of English rule on this
    island. My lords, I have nothing more to say. It is not for
    having loved England less, but for having loved Ireland more,
    that I stand now before you."

Mr. O'Donohoe confined himself to a few words concerning his trial.

    MR. MEAGHER.--"My lords, it is my intention to say a few words
    only. I desire that the last act of a proceeding which has
    occupied so much of the public time should be of short duration.
    Nor have I the indelicate wish to close the dreary ceremony of a
    State prosecution with a vain display of words. Did I fear that
    hereafter when I shall be no more the country I have tried to
    serve would think ill of me, I might, indeed, avail myself of
    this solemn moment to vindicate my sentiments and my conduct.
    But I have no such fear. The country will judge of those
    sentiments and that conduct in a light far different from that
    in which the jury by which I have been convicted have viewed
    them; and by the country, the sentence which you, my lords, are
    about to pronounce, will be remembered only as the severe and
    solemn attestation of my rectitude and truth. Whatever be the
    language in which that sentence be spoken, I know that my fate
    will meet with sympathy, and that my memory will be honoured. In
    speaking thus, accuse me not, my lords, of an indecorous
    presumption. To the efforts I have made in a just and noble
    cause, I ascribe no vain importance--nor do I claim for those
    efforts any high reward. But it so happens, and it will ever
    happen so, that they who have tried to serve their country, no
    matter how weak the effort may have been, are sure to receive
    the thanks and the blessings of its people. With my country,
    then, I leave my memory--my sentiments--my acts--proudly feeling
    that they require no vindication from me this day. A jury of my
    countrymen, it is true, have found me guilty of the crime of
    which I stood indicted. For this I entertain not the slightest
    feeling of resentment toward them. Influenced as they must have
    been by the charge of the Lord Chief Justice, they could have
    found no other verdict. What of that charge? Any strong
    observations on it, I feel sincerely, would ill befit the
    solemnity of this scene; but I would earnestly beseech of you,
    my lord--you, who preside on that bench--when the passions and
    the prejudices of this hour have passed away to appeal to your
    conscience, and ask of it was your charge as it ought to have
    been, impartial and indifferent between the subject and the
    Crown. My lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in me,
    and perhaps it may seal my fate. But I am here to speak the
    truth, whatever it may cost. I am here to regret nothing I have
    ever done--to retract nothing I have ever said. I am here to
    crave with no lying-lip the life I consecrate to the liberty of
    my country. Far from it: even here--here, where the thief, the
    libertine, the murderer, have left their footprints in the dust;
    here, on this spot, where the shadows of death surround me, and
    from which I see my early grave in an unanointed soil opened to
    receive me--even here, encircled by these terrors, the hope
    which has beckoned me to the perilous sea upon which I have
    been wrecked, still consoles, animates, enraptures me. No I do
    not despair of my poor old country, her peace her liberty, her
    glory. For that country I can do no more than bid her hope. To
    lift up this island--to make her a benefactor to humanity,
    instead of being the meanest beggar in the world--to restore to
    her her native Powers and her ancient constitution--this has
    been my ambition, and this ambition has been my crime. Judged by
    the law of England, I know this crime entails the Penalty of
    death; but the history of Ireland explains this crime, and
    justifies it. Judged by that history, I am no criminal--you
    (addressing Mr. MacManus) are no criminal--you (addressing Mr
    O'Donohoe) are no criminal--I deserve no punishment--we deserve
    no punishment. Judged by that history the treason of which I
    stand convicted loses all its guilt, is sanctified as a duty,
    will be ennobled as a sacrifice. With these sentiments, my lord
    I await the sentence of the court. Having done what I felt to be
    my duty--having spoken what I felt to be the truth, as I have
    done on every other occasion of my short career, I now bid
    farewell to the country of my birth, my passion and my
    death--the country whose misfortunes have invoked my
    sympathies--whose factions I have sought to still--whose
    intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim--whose freedom has been
    my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a proof of the love
    I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought, and spoke,
    and struggled for her freedom--the life of a young heart, and
    with that life, all the hopes, the honours, the endearments, of
    a happy and an honourable home. Pronounce then, my lords, the
    sentence which the law directs, and I will be prepared to hear
    it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope to
    be able, with a pure heart and perfect composure, to appear
    before a higher Tribunal--a tribunal where a Judge of infinite
    goodness, as well as of justice will preside, and where, my
    lords, many--many of the judgments of this world will be
    reversed."

The sentence of the court was then pronounced, as it had been previously
on Mr. O'Brien. It was in the following words:--

    "That sentence is, that you Terence Bellew MacManus, you Patrick
    O'Donohoe, and you Thomas Francis Meagher, be taken hence to the
    place from whence you came, and be thence drawn on a hurdle to
    the place of execution; that each of you be there hanged by the
    neck until you are dead, and that afterward the head of each of
    you shall be severed from the body, and the body of each divided
    into four quarters, to be disposed of as her Majesty may think
    fit. And may Almighty God have mercy upon your souls."

A writ of error was sued out principally on the ground that the
principles of constitutional law were violated. The House of Lords
finally quashed the error and confirmed the judgment. Meantime, the
country, or a great portion of the people, took the last step in the
direction of debasement by praying the Queen and the Lord Lieutenant for
a free pardon. The petitions were spurned; but her Majesty, yielding to
the powerful sentiment of abhorrence against the punishment of death for
political offences, commuted the sentence into transportation for life.
This final sentence was carried into effect on the 9th day of July,
1849, when the ship of war _Swift_ spread her sails and hoisted her
felon flag, bearing out to sea, and having on board the four illustrious
exiles.

Martin and O'Doherty had been conveyed to Cork on board the _Triton_,
on the 16th of June, whence they were sent to herd with common
malefactors on board the _Mount Stewart Elphinstone_--at the time
infested with the plague. This vessel remained off Spike Island while
the cholera was doing its ravages among her passengers, and finally put
to sea, with the patriots and pestilence, a few days before the
departure of the _Swift_.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 11: The following is from the _Freeman's Journal_:--An eminent
Queen's counsel, who was present during the awful ordeal, was heard to
give utterance to a sentiment so truthfully graphic that we record it in
full:--"Well," said he, his eyes full and his countenance flushed with
emotion, "never was there such a scene--never such true heroism
displayed before. Emmet and Fitzgerald, and all combined did not come up
to that--so dignified, so calm, so heroic. HE _is_ a hero."]




CHAPTER IX

CONTINUATION OF PERSONAL WANDERINGS.--DUNGARVAN.--THE COMERAGHS.--MOUNT
MELLARY.--KILWORTH.--CROSS. DUNMANWAY.--GOUGANE BARRA.--BANTRY
BAY.--THE PRIEST'S LEAP.--KENMARE.--THE REEKS.--KILLARNEY.--TEMPLENOE.--
DEPARTURE.--CORK.--BRISTOL.--LONDON.--PARIS.


After leaving Quinlan's, as detailed in a former chapter, O'Mahony and
myself agreed to separate for a few days. No reward had then been
offered for him, and my presence only impeded his movements. We crossed
the river Suir, and remained most of the day in Coolnamuck wood. Toward
evening I was conducted far into the county Waterford, where I was to
remain until I heard what progress he was able to make. My host was the
chief of one of the fierce factions of county Waterford, and bore many a
mark of desperate fray. I do not remember having met any man, before or
since, who felt so acutely the fate of the country. He procured the best
fare he could, and prepared my bed with his own hands. After I retired
to rest, he continued pacing the room for several hours, sometimes
sighing deeply, sometimes muttering curses between his clenched teeth,
and sometimes suggesting plans which he thought might be even then
available and efficient to redeem the past. These plans were all of a
character more or less desperate; but some were exceedingly ingenious. A
truer type of a Celt could not easily be found; his very caution was
stamped with vehemence.

Next day but one I proceeded to meet O'Mahony, to learn his success in
his nocturnal interviews. I was unable to meet him; but encountered a
faithful follower of Thomas Francis Meagher, who was the bearer of a
message to the effect that if he could be prevailed upon to attempt
escaping, means could be procured for him. I expressed at once my entire
concurrence, and desired the messenger should return to say that on
condition the same means would be made available for those who were not
yet arrested, we would all gladly accept of them. I ventured into a
house, where, in early life, I spent many a happy day. Those of the
family whom I had known and loved, had passed out of the world. They
were a brother and sister, the former educated for the Church, and the
latter highly gifted and educated far above her condition. I never knew
a woman, in any rank of life, of nobler character or a more heroic
nature. She had the richest store of womanly tenderness and kindly
affections. She took the veil at the Dungarvan Convent in very early
youth, where she died two years afterwards. I asked for some food, and
while it was being prepared I wrote the following lines on a blank leaf
of a book belonging to my dead friend:--

    Bliss to thy spirit, gentlest maid,
    Fond, faithful and beloved; how oft,
    Within the circle of this glowing glade,
    Our mingling souls had soared aloft;
    And wooed the knowledge of our destiny--
    What is it? I a fugitive, and thou on high.

    Yet hopeless of the land I'd save,
    Nay, spurned by those for whom I'd die,
    Unknown where your fond welcome gave,
    There's still a throb of ecstasy.
    Even though the latest I may feel on earth.
    In lingering o'er the scene where thou hadst birth.

    Where wrapt by evening's crimson flush,
    We hoped, and felt, and breathed together,
    Beside the broad Suir's silent gush,
    Or resting on yon mountain heather;
    And dared to look beyond the narrow span,
    That circumscribed the hope of man.

    How sweet, if from the blessed spheres,
    Thou didst bestow one look of love,
    To cheer the hearts and dry the tears
    Of those whose only hope's above;
    And win, beloved one, from the throne of light,
    One saving ray for our long slavery's night.

    Or if this may not be, and yet
    Her old doom clings unto the land;
    If on her brow the brand be set,
    And she must bear the chastening hand
    For longer years, O grant, sweet saint, to me,
    To die as if my arm had made her free.

    GLENN, _August 3, 1848._

I left Glenn next morning, with still some hope remaining, and sought
out my friend to learn his success and prospects. He came, according to
appointment, to a farmer's house in the direction of Rathgormack,
bringing with him James Stephens, who was destined to be thenceforth the
companion of my wanderings, privations and dangers. He detailed to us,
nearly as I have repeated it, the affair at Ballingarry. When he
reached the village of Urlingford, he found some difficulty in escaping
from the very men he hoped to lead back to the conflict. After vainly
making every effort first to urge them on, and secondly to satisfy them
of his own identity, he travelled a distance of thirty miles, and took
shelter in the house of a private friend, where he hoped he could remain
until something definite would be known of his comrades' fate. That his
stay was not of long duration, his appearance with us on Thursday, forty
miles from the place of his concealment, amply testifies. That distance
he travelled on foot on the preceding day, after having slept a night
with a drunken man in a brake. He was even more averse than we were to
giving up the struggle, and it was agreed on finally that he should be
allowed to rest in a place of safety; that the messenger who had come
from Mr. Meagher's friend should be despatched with my proposal, and
meantime, that I should betake me to the Comeragh mountains in search of
Mr. Meagher, while our other comrade should make a final effort to rally
the remaining strength of the people. We would then be in a position to
determine finally what we should do. Stephens and myself proceeded
together as far as my former host's in the mountains, where I left him,
and continued my route as far as the Comeraghs, I rested that evening at
a place called Sradavalla, and early next day recommenced my search
around and over the mountains. After crossing several minor hills, I
ascended the summit of the Comeragh, called Cuimshinane, which commands
a prospect of nearly the whole counties of Waterford and Kilkenny, with
a great part of Tipperary. That prospect was at once grand, beautiful
and mournful. The corn crop began to be tinged with coming ripeness; but
the potato was blighted, and presented a spectacle as black and dismal
as the country's hopes. This widespread ruin was the dread work of an
hour. On the morning, when Mr. O'Brien appeared in Carrick, that crop
was the most abundant, promising and healthy that had been seen for
years. Then it appeared from sea to sea one mass of unvaried rottenness
and decay. Notwithstanding this, I spent hours looking down on the
landscape, and mourning more over the mental and moral blight, which
shed its influence on the public heart, than the plague spot whose dark
circumference embraced the circle of the island. From heat, fatigue and
the effects of weak food, I discharged my stomach more than once, while
descending the ranges of the Comeraghs. I again took up my station for
the night at the village of Sradavalla. It was deemed prudent I should
not sleep in the same house as on the previous night, and about eleven
o'clock, accompanied by five or six men of the village, I proceeded to a
house farther up the mountain. Here the accommodation was not such as we
expected, and we were forced to return. On our arrival, I found my
sister-in-law who was escorted by two boatmen from Carrick-on-Suir, and
who reached this wild sequestered and almost inaccessible mountain
village, after a journey of fifty miles. A sad change had come over our
circumstances since last we parted. My hopes were then nearly a
conviction, and I went on my way not alone without remonstrance or
regret on her part, but with intense encouragement. She had heard of
Mr. O'Brien's disaster, and a rumour of his arrest, had witnessed the
prostration of the people, had heard I had means of escape proposed for
me, and came with what money could be provided. We spent that night
together at the house of a woman who had been lately confined. She
endeavoured to provide tea and eggs, and we enjoyed our supper with as
keen a relish and as high a zest as possible. I learned that Meagher was
in the other extremity of the county Tipperary, and she undertook to
convey my message to his friend a second time, while his faithful scout
would endeavour to discover his retreat, and induce him to join us. She
departed on her mission, having to walk ten miles over the mountain
roads. I returned to the place where I parted from Stephens, whom I
found greatly recovered. We remained that night at the house of his
entertainer, where we were joined the following morning by O'Mahony. We
spent the three succeeding days in and about the woods at Coolnamuck.
Three more anxious days and nights never darkened the destiny of baffled
rebels. Every morning arose upon a new hope which was blasted ere night
came on by some sad intelligence. The news that reached us was partly
true and partly false: of the former character was the account of our
beloved chief's arrest, which took place on the evening of Sunday, the
6th of August. In proportion as it nerved our purpose and urged us to
desperation, did that fatal information scatter the agencies on which we
were to depend. The most desperate hazards would be readily undertaken
in that hour of gloom. One more effort we decided on, and the experiment
was to be tried the next night. We heard Mr. Meagher also was arrested,
and we resolved, in order to satisfy ourselves of the correctness of
this and other reports, to put ourselves in direct communication with
some person in the town of Clonmel. We accordingly proceeded to the
neighbourhood of that town, within a mile of which, at the Waterford
side, we established ourselves, and remained two days. Each day we sent
in a messenger who brought us correct intelligence of what occurred; and
satisfied us not alone that Mr. O'Brien was then in gaol, but that he
was allowed to be torn from the midst of a people for whom he had
perilled his life, without a hand being raised in his defence. We then
returned to the scene of our former meetings, and met, for the last
time, beside a little brook near the Waterford slate-quarries. My
ambassadress had also returned, and there were present three or four
others. The reunion was gloomy. But one question remained for
discussion: Was there any hope left? The message I received as to the
means of escape was dark and discouraging. Nothing remained but the
hazards of some desperate enterprise. What had chiefly animated our
hopes for the few days was the knowledge that disaffection and
conspiracy existed in the ranks of the British army. But among other
intelligence of evil omen that reached us was this, that the conspiracy
had been discovered. Whether this were true or not, our means of
communication were suspended; and, unable to learn what had occurred, we
naturally concluded it was the worst. It is not quite correct to say,
_we_, as far as the proceedings of these days in that neighbourhood were
concerned. Neither Stephens nor myself was in communication with more
than the one friend, to whose honour and heroism we would commit the
liberty of the world. Never yet lived a man of more sanguine hope or
intense patriotism. All the vigour of a gigantic intellect, aided by the
endurance of great physical strength was tasked to the uttermost in
attempting to rouse the broken energies of the country. He generally
spent his nights in interviews with the chief men of the surrounding
districts, while his duty by day was to communicate the result to us,
and secure a place of safety for the ensuing night. Our last conference
was of course the longest and most anxious. There was no chance within
the range of possibility we did not discuss. Of the intensity of our
feelings, some idea may be formed by the fact, that the one woman who
was of the party, whose sole stay on this earth I was, as well as the
sole stay of her sister and a most helpless little family, never uttered
one word of remonstrance against any project, however desperate, which
was proposed. We concluded an interview of several hours, by referring
the entire question to the sole decision of our friend. After a short
silence, during which the agony of his mind was extreme, he solemnly
advised and adjured us to provide as best we could for our own safety,
while he, who was not so deeply compromised, would maintain his
position, and still struggle against our common destiny. If he
succeeded, and that we had not left the country, we could return. But to
advise us to continue in our then position where an iron circle was
closing around us, relying on the slender chances that then presented
themselves, involved a responsibility which would be no longer
endurable. We then partook of a comfortable dinner which he had
provided, and parted with sad hearts.

[Illustration: The Knockmeldown Mountains from Ardfinan]

The place which, as far as we could form an opinion, presented the
greatest facilities for escape, was the town and neighbourhood of
Dungarvan. Thither we resolved to repair; and about three o'clock, on
the 13th day of August, we set off across the nearest range of the
Comeraghs--Stephens and myself, accompanied by my sister-in-law, whom we
hoped to employ in negotiating for a passage to France. A farmer and two
women of the place undertook to conduct us the shortest way across the
mountains, and provide us an asylum for the night, which we reached
after a forced journey of six hours. We there parted from our guides;
and the people to whom they recommended us were exceedingly kind, and
much more hospitable than their means would permit. On the following day
our host became our guide for several miles across the declining
Comeraghs, until we came in view of Dungarvan. We purchased some bread,
eggs and tea at a village called Tubbernaheena; but while in the village
we learned that the military and police were scouring the country far
and wide, in search of arms, which compelled us to change our route and
take an easterly direction. We crossed several miles of bog, and had to
pass many a ravine; but the worst trial was before us. We applied in
several houses for the means of preparing our dinner, having travelled
at least twenty miles over moor and mountain. We applied in twenty
places in vain. At last, half by force and half by entreaty, we
prevailed on a woman, whose circumstances seemed comfortable. We were,
of course, unknown; and though we met many a rebuff, we determined to
endure them, rather than reveal our names and character. During the
progress of our meal we established ourselves in the good graces of the
housewife, but she obstinately refused to allow us to remain for the
night. She directed us to a publichouse, where, on our arrival, we found
a proclamation menacing any one who entertained, harboured or assisted
us, with the direst punishment. In answer to our inquiry the owner, who
was a woman, pointed to the proclamation, as an argument against which
all remonstrance was vain. We made three or four other attempts equally
fruitless; and when the night had closed around us, on a bleak, desolate
road, I determined to call on the Roman Catholic priest, and state who
we were; for while, if alone, we would infinitely prefer taking such
rest as we could in the nearest brake, or under shelter of a wall, we
could not think of submitting our delicate companion to the trials of a
night in the open air, during an exceedingly inclement season. With some
hesitation and great alarm, he procured a lodging for us at a farmer's
house in the neighbourhood. We saw him next morning, and his most
earnest injunction was that we should leave the locality, which,
according to him, was altogether unsafe. To escape arrest there for
twelve hours was, he said, impossible. Similar advice was pressed on us
afterwards in many a safer asylum; but we learned to mock at others'
fears, whereas, on this occasion, we yielded to an impression we felt to
be sincere.

Before venturing nearer to Dungarvan, we determined to bespeak the
services of another clergyman, who lived a distance of six or seven
miles in the direction of Waterford. A ridge of the Comeraghs lay
between us and his lonely dwelling. Along this ridge lay a winding
bridle-road, skirted by patches of green sward, and occasionally crossed
by a sparkling mountain rill. Above us, on the hill-side, was a
considerable bog, where crowds of country people were collecting to
their daily toil. A merry laugh or boisterous joke occasionally rang
clear in the morning air. The mirth went heavily to our hearts. The
snatch of song, the unrestrained laugh, the merry glee, broke upon the
ear of the wayfarers like the mocking of demons. The consciousness that
they then sped, without a beacon or a guide, over the flinty path of
flight, to end perhaps at the gibbet, imparted to the voice of mirth the
sound of ingratitude. However, the day was brilliant; above us the
clear, blue, unfathomable sky; around us the bracing mountain air, laden
with the breath of hare-bell and heather, and far below the calm sea,
sleeping in the morning light; and weariness, hunger and apprehension
yielded to the influence of the scene. Many a time, ere passed the sunny
noon, did we sit down to enjoy the glad prospect, unconscious, for a
moment, of the fate that tracked our footsteps. At length we descended
the eastern slope of the hill; and after proceeding some distance,
through cornfields and meadows, we reached the mansion of the clergyman,
wayworn and half-famished. He, whom we sought, had won a character for
truth, manliness and courage, and we calculated upon his unrestrained
sympathies, if not generous hospitality. He was absent from his house,
which is situate in a lonely gorge of the Comeraghs.

We waited his arrival for more than an hour, and, through delicacy for
his position, we remained concealed in a grove some distance from the
door. He at length appeared, and I proceeded alone to meet him and make
known my name. He started involuntarily and retreated a few paces from
me. After repeating my name for a few seconds, he said, "Surely you are
not so unmanly as to compromise me?" I replied, that so sensible was I
of the danger of committing him, that I refused to enter his house,
though we all, and particularly my female companion, sadly needed rest
and shelter. After some time, he began to pace up and down in front of
his door, repeating at every turn that it was indiscreet and
dishonourable to compromise him. Among the many trials to which fate had
doomed me, through hours of gloom, of peril and disaster, and even
during reveries of still darker chances, which fear or fancy often
evoked, I never felt a pang so keen as that which those unfeeling words
sent through my heart. For a while I was unable to articulate, but at
length I said: "You are one of those who urged us to this fate. You gave
us every assurance that, in any crisis, you would be at our side. We
made the desperate trial which you recommended. We have failed, because
we were abandoned by those who were foremost in urging us on; and even
now--here, where God alone sees us--you meet with reproaches one who has
sacrificed his all on earth in a cause you pretended to bless. Is not
that fate worse than defeat--than flight--than death?" "Tis a sad fate,
no doubt," said he. My object, I said, was to escape to France, and I
called on him, believing he could assist me, as he must be acquainted
with the boatmen around that part of the coast. He answered it was
possible he could, but not then; asked how he could communicate with me;
pointed to a shorter route across the mountains than that by which we
had descended, and turned in to his dinner, which was just announced.

       *       *       *       *       *

We faced towards the mountain, hungry and exhausted, without being asked
to taste food or drink. It need not be detailed how sore at heart we
felt as we recommenced our dreary journey. It was already evening.
Censer masses of fog had gathered on the hill, and lurid streaks
spreading far out on the sea, portended a night of storm and gloom.
However, we had no resource but to regain the house where we had slept
two nights before, which we supposed might be distant about seven miles;
and by gaining the summit of the hill before dark, we hoped to make our
way easily down the other side. To obtain some food, of whatever kind,
was an indispensable preliminary. The house nearest to the mountain
appeared to be that of a comfortable farmer. We entered it trembling,
and found our expectations not disappointed. But the housewife
peremptorily refused our first request, evidently suspecting there was
something wrong, and unable to reconcile our appearance with the idea of
hunger or distress. She bestowed a peculiarly sinister scrutiny on my
poor sister. After some parley, we said we should have something to eat,
either for love or money, and while saying so, we began to examine the
locks of our pistols. Either admonished by these stern intercessors, or
by a look of compassion from her beautiful daughter, who stood at some
distance, she replied we should have what we asked for, but only for
love. Her daughters, of whom there were two, busied themselves in
producing new barley bread and skimmed milk, of which we partook
immoderately. We parted on better terms, and my friend Stephens was
greeted with a smile from each of the lovely girls, which so influenced
him that he insisted upon revealing our character and asking their
hospitality for the night. After a good deal of discussion it was agreed
he should make the experiment alone. He returned and produced the
military cap which he always wore inside his shirt. This at once
produced the desired effect, and one of the young girls came bounding up
the hill to invite us to return. It was arranged, however, that we
should remain on a hay-loft until quite dusk, which we gladly agreed to.
The host entered with us, and stayed until we were admitted to the
dwelling-house. To me, at least, that hay-loft imparted a sense of
unutterable enjoyment. I was there enabled to support the drooping head
of my sister, as overcharged with weariness and pain of mind, she sank
into unconscious sleep.

As night fell, we were introduced into a comfortable parlour. There we
had tea and eggs, with some punch. The family felt the warmest interest
in us; but at the same time they occasionally manifested evident alarm.
The utmost precaution was observed so as to prevent our being noticed,
and we only retired to bed when the hour of midnight had struck, and the
house was sunk in silence and solitude. During all that night the storm
roared pitilessly and the rain fell heavily. Had it surprised us on the
bleak hill, our wandering had that night ended, and the ravens of
Cumshinane had feasted on our flesh. Next day the storm did not cease to
howl nor the rain to sweep on the angry winds. About five o'clock,
during a brief pause of the rain, preparations were made which
significantly intimated that we were expected to leave. Our host was
well acquainted with the fishermen of Dungarvan and he solemnly warned
us against treating with any of them. Betrayal, he said, would be
certain. But he promised to accompany my sister next day to the town,
where he would make every inquiry; and if he failed, as he anticipated,
would see her away on the car; in which case we were to try another and
a far remote sea-board. A certain newspaper of high Liberal character,
affected to bestow upon us intense consideration and deep compassion. It
had a guard of mobile reporters, some of whom contrived to be everywhere
and hear everything--especially what did not occur. One of them, with a
keener scent than his fellows, discovered my sister's track--made
himself familiar with her person and apparel--and announced her
movements with a mournful accuracy. He conjectured, not unjustly, that
my haunts must be near the scene of her wanderings. Completely absorbed
by the one idea of gratifying the curiosity of his readers, he seemed
indifferent to the conclusion, which, to a mind less engaged, would
appear palpable, and inevitable--namely, that what was information to
our anxious friends would equally serve the purpose of our watchful
pursuers.

It became, therefore, dangerous to have her continue any longer with or
near us. A hasty dinner was prepared, and we arranged to meet our host
next day within a mile of Dungarvan. Never did parting look more like a
last one than mine with my sister, on that occasion. For some time I
thought she would be the first victim of our hard destiny. She seemed
incapable of withstanding the agony that shook her frame. While sharing
in the hardships and the hazards of my struggle for life, her heart,
sustained by its own deep enthusiasm, triumphed over every obstacle. But
she was returning to a house of mourning and of woe, where life would be
one blank of desolation and stupor, to be wakened to bitter
consciousness by intelligence of our doom. The sense of my
responsibility, the full appreciation of the living death which, through
my agency, had fallen upon a home as hallowed as ever love and joy
consecrated to happiness, had burned up my eyeballs and my brain. I went
forth into the recommencing storm, utterly unconscious of its rage and
equally indifferent to fate. My comrade, who had no life to lose but his
own, and who of that was recklessly prodigal, provided he could dispose
of it to good account, stepped blithely along and uttered no complaint,
although he left behind him traces marked with blood. His terrible
indifference soon restored my self-possession, and we found shelter for
the night in a house near the spot designated for the next day's
interview. Just as we arrived there, the chief magistrate and police had
completed a search of the house. We entered as they retired, told who we
were, and claimed hospitality, which we readily obtained. The night
passed as many a similar one did afterwards. Let our hardships be what
they might during the day, we invariably enjoyed ourselves at night, and
went to bed without a fear. On the following morning we sent our hostess
into the town for shoes and other matters which were indispensable to
our further progress. She returned, evidently alarmed to death, having
read on the walls the viceregal threats against all who harboured the
"traitors." She scarcely allowed us to remain until the time appointed
for the interview, which was of short duration. We were informed that
there was no hope from that quarter, and that our safety for one hour
was extremely precarious. This intelligence and a copy of the _World_
newspaper, completed the information communicated by our former host.

Having laughed heartily over the _World_, and no less heartily at the
alarm of our host and hostess, we set out on our long journey, about
four o'clock in the evening, under very heavy rain. Our first effort was
at the publichouse, already mentioned, where we again failed. We had
some bread and punch, while drying our clothes at the fire. My comrade
became very ill; but even this did not overcome the obstinate repugnance
of the hostess to receive us. We were compelled to leave at about nine
o'clock; and having travelled some miles, 'midst cold and rain, my
comrade shivering from fever and suffering, we determined to sleep in
freshly-saved hay. While making ourselves a resting-place in the hay, we
were surprised by some countrymen, who recognised us as the persons who
dined on a former evening, but were coldly received and rudely expelled.
Upon consulting with the women, who had seen us, they conjectured we
were some of the fugitives, and followed for the purpose of inviting us
to the hospitalities of their home. We accepted the offer gladly, and
were received by our friends of the former evening with the warmest
welcome. The principal apartment contained two beds, one of which was
usually occupied by the man and his wife, and the other by their grown
daughters. They gave both up to us, treated us most kindly, and the
whole family, men, women and children, watched over our sleep until
morning. The eldest son displayed considerable information and still
greater energy of character. He evinced the deepest interest in our
fate, and accompanied us for several miles next morning. It was Sunday;
the cold and wet of the previous evening had given way to calm and
sunshine; and we made rapid way along the slopes of the
Comeraghs--thence to the Knockmeldown mountains, having one main object
in view--to place the greatest distance possible between where we were
to rest that night and where we had last slept. The greatest difficulty
we experienced was in passing deep ravines. The steep ascent and descent
were usually wooded and covered with furze and briars. Far below gurgled
a rapid and swollen mountain stream, which we crossed without
undressing, and always experienced the greatest relief from the cold
running water. But toiling our upward way, through trees and thorny
shrubs, was excessively fatiguing. About three o'clock in the evening we
reached the picturesque grounds of Mountmellary Abbey. We had then
travelled thirty miles of mountain without any refreshments. The
well-known hospitality of the good brothers was a great temptation to
men in our situation, pressed by toil and hunger. But we felt that we
possibly might compromise the Abbot and the brethren, and determined on
not making ourselves known. We entered the beautiful chapel of the
Abbey, and ascended the gallery while vespers were sung. We were alone
on the gallery, and had an opportunity of changing our stockings and
wiping the blood from our feet. We remained upwards of an hour, and then
set out, but little refreshed. We hoped to find refreshments in a small
publichouse, on the road leading from Clogheen to Lismore. I entered the
house rather hurriedly, and the first object that met my view was a
policeman. I turned quickly round and disappeared. The rapidity of my
movement attracted his attention, and, calling to his comrades and some
countrymen who were in the house, they commenced a pursuit. At first
they appeared little concerned, but walked quickly. We accordingly
quickened our pace, and they, in turn, began to run, when it became a
regular chase, which continued four miles, until we disappeared in the
blue mists of the Mitchelstown mountains, as night was falling around
us. When we saw our pursuers retiring, we ventured to descend, and
entered a cabin where we found a few cold half-formed new potatoes and
some sour milk which we ravenously devoured. I do not remember ever
enjoying a dinner as I did this. My comrade, who had suffered much from
illness, was unable to eat with the same relish. It was night when we
finished our repast, and we set off in search of some place to lay our
heads. We met several refusals, and succeeded, with great difficulty at
last, in a very poor cabin. We saw a lone hen on a cross-beam, which we
proposed to purchase, and bought at last for two shillings. In less
than an hour she was disposed of; and, as was invariably the case, we
got the only bed in the house, where we slept a long and dreamless
sleep. It rained incessantly the next day, and we were forced repeatedly
to take shelter in cabins by the wayside. But, being excessively anxious
to get as far as possible beyond the circle enclosed by our foes, we
descended several miles along the Kilworth mountains. Towards the close
of evening we crossed the River Funcheon, near Kilworth, by means of a
fir-tree, the roots of which had been undermined by the rapid flood. We
had spent the whole day in wet clothes. We mounted this tree,
Indian-like, in the midst of rain, and dropped in the shallow part of
the river from the branches. We were unable to procure lodgings
afterwards until nearly eleven o'clock, and then not without difficulty.
We succeeded, at length, within about a quarter of a mile of Kilworth,
whence we were able to procure bread, tea and beefsteaks. We were very
kindly treated, and next day accompanied to the Blackwater, at Castle
Hyde, by the eldest brother of the family.

I shall not easily forget the delicacy with which this young man
requested, if we thought it compatible with our safety, to tell him our
names. There are few requests which either of us would feel greater
reluctance in refusing. He saw our evident struggle, and said he would
be satisfied with a promise that when our fate would be decided one way
or the other, we would write to him; a promise which I redeemed the day
after I reached Paris.

This day I think, August the 20th, we travelled over forty miles, along
bog and mountain, passed within a few miles of the city of Cork, and
then, taking a north-western direction, proceeded to the village of
Blarney; where we slept on a loft with a number of carmen who were on
their way to Cork with corn.

It is known to most people, at all familiar with the traditions of
Ireland, that this village is one of her most classic spots. There is
deposited the celebrated Blarney stone, a touch of which imparts to the
tongue of the pilgrim the gift of persuasion. So famous has this stone
become, not only in Ireland but in England, that the most plausible
fluency is characterised by its name, which at once confers on such
oratory the stamp of unapproachable eloquence. It must be confessed,
however, that in many instances "Blarney" conveys doubts of the
speaker's sincerity, as well as admiration for his capacity. To see this
talisman would be with me, on another occasion, an object of deep
anxiety and most eager curiosity. But I was compelled to forego the
pleasure, by the fact that a police-barrack loomed in its immediate
vicinity, and at the other side was posted a proclamation offering a
reward for my person. We could scarcely sleep, owing to the noise and
bustle of the carmen, as they came and went, and loudly snored in
various parts of our dormitory. But we were allowed to rest until seven
in the morning, when we took a hasty breakfast and departed. It was a
point with us never to walk along a road, and never to ask our way. We
were now travelling through an open corn country, and our progress was
accordingly slow. We felt, too, the necessity of not departing far from
our intended route, and accordingly we called in occasionally to
national schools to make the necessary observations on the maps.
Sometimes we examined the children, and sometimes the master; generally
one of us was so employed while the other was noting down carelessly on
the map the points of observation to direct our path. We crossed the Lee
undressed, near the village of "Cross," and slept soundly in a
churchyard on a neighbouring hill the name of which has passed from my
memory. We then directed our footsteps to a small village called
Crookstown, situated in a romantic spot on a branch of the Lee. We
experienced much difficulty, and narrowly escaped detection, in entering
this village, which is surrounded by beautiful country seats, through
the grounds of some of which we were obliged to grope our way. We
obtained lodgings, after one or two fruitless trials, in a very
comfortable house kept by a farmer. The young family seemed to be rather
tastefully educated, and we soon became fast friends. We passed as
whimsical tourists, and delighted our entertainers with glowing accounts
of the scenery of Connemara, Wicklow and Kerry. We remained with them
two nights, on pretence of being engaged in sketching the enchanting
views in the neighbourhood; and left, promising, that if we returned by
the same road, we would delay a week. Our destination was Dunmanway,
near which a friend of mine lived, in whose house I hoped we might
remain concealed, while means of escape would be procured somewhere
among the western headlands. A short journey brought us to this house.
My friend was absent, but daughters of his, whom I had not seen since
childhood, recognised and welcomed us. We had then travelled 150 miles,
and fancied that, as no one could think of our making such a journey
without walking one half-mile of road, we would be safe there for many
days. In this we were disappointed. It was communicated to us next
morning early that our persons were recognised, and that half the
inhabitants of Dunmanway were by that time aware of our whereabouts. It
was added, that the people were venal and treacherous; a character which
the inhabitants of that region of Cork invariably attribute to each
other. We remained a second and most of a third day, notwithstanding,
and enjoyed ourselves heartily, although our little festivities had all
the air of a wake. We set out at length on the evening of the third day,
having made one glorious friend, whose exertions afterwards tended
mainly to secure my escape. We had expected letters from home before we
reached Dunmanway, and received them there on the day after. They
contained the concentrated and compressed agony of weeks, but no word of
complaint or regret. They also confirmed the intelligence which we had
heard ere we set out, namely, that all our comrades were arrested,
except Dillon, O'Gorman, and a few others, of whose fate we remained
uncertain. Certain friends of the family undertook to communicate with
clergymen, near the seashore, who were supposed to be in a position to
facilitate our escape, while we proposed to visit Gougane Barra and
Ceimeneagh, and, if practicable, Killarney, before we returned to learn
the success of their applications. We followed the stream that passes
Dunmanway for several miles through an almost inaccessible valley,
until we reached the southwestern base of Shehigh, the highest mountain
in the range which stretches between Mallow and Cape Clear.

Here we purchased some good new potatoes, butter, eggs and milk, on
which we dined satisfactorily. We then faced the mountain which we
crossed near the summit, being desirous to gain Gougane Barra by the
shortest possible route. A steep ascent gives the traveller fresh
impulses and an irrepressible desire to bound down at the other side. It
seems to spring from that principle of action and reaction pervading all
nature. At the northern base of Shehigh, after traversing some miles of
bog, we found ourselves entering the pass of Ceimenagh. Though that Pass
had been recently immortalised in the unequalled verses of Denis
Florence M'Carthy,[12] and I had learned to love a spot where echoes of
minstrelsy so soft and passionate had found a "local habitation," I was
ignorant of its locality and entirely unprepared for the surpassing
grandeur of the scene, which, in the full blaze of a harvest moon burst
upon my view. My comrade was even more startled than I, and we paused at
every turn of that enchanting passage to gaze upon the masses of rock
projecting over our heads hundreds of feet in the air, and casting their
dark rude outlines upon the clear autumn sky. The pass is a mile long,
while in no one spot can many yards' distance be seen on either side.
The road seems to lose itself every moment in the bowels of the
mountain, but as you proceed, you find a new avenue of escape, and a
more fantastic group of impending rocks of a yet more entrancing
beauty than that you had left behind. In such a scene one could have no
feeling of weariness and no sense of fear. Neither could he doubt man's
truth any more than God's omnipotence. We lingered in the solitude and
drank the moonbeams as they strayed through disjointed rocks and fell
silvery and glowing on our path. Our reverie ended in a mistake, for we
unconsciously passed the point where we should turn to Gougane Barra,
then the scene of a ceremony, half religious, half superstitious, as it
has been during the autumn season from time immemorial. People come
great distances to perform "stations" on the ruins of a very ancient
church on poor Callanan's "green little island." We were advised against
returning, but told to seek shelter in a publichouse at a place called
Ballingeary, on the banks of Lough Lua through which the infant Lee
runs. We found the house quite full, in consequence of a fair which was
to be held the Monday following at Bantry. We were accordingly refused;
but we insisted on remaining in the house. We had some milk and whisky,
in which we asked the host to join us, and after one or two potations,
he and his wife offered to give us their own bed and remain up. We
thankfully and gladly accepted the offer. I know not whether they
recognised us, and if not, it is not easy to account for the generous
kindness that prompted such a sacrifice. The next day being Sunday, we
proposed to spend it wandering about the lovely lake in the bosom of the
hill, and to return in the evening to dinner. The day was an anxious
one; but we left no spot on the island or near the lake which we did not
explore.

[Illustration: Dunmanway from the Bridge on the Cork Road, 1848]

The "Green Little Island," is surpassingly romantic. The old ruin of a
monastery, God knows how old, gigantic forest trees, bowing their aged
limbs into the clear water, the shadows of the frowning mountain thrown
fantastically on the bosom of the lake, form a _tout ensemble_ of lonely
loveliness rarely equalled. Then the play of

          "The thousand wild fountains
    Rushing down to that lake from their home in the mountains,"

the scream of the eagle on the crags of Mailoc, far, far on high, all
justify Callanan's preference for the spot which was meetest for the
bard. We endeavoured to recall his tender strains, and thought
mournfully of his sad prophecy--alas! when shall it be fulfilled?

    I too shall be gone, but my name shall be spoken,
    When Erin awakes and her fetters are broken
    Some minstrel shall come in the summer's eve gleaming,
    When Freedom's young light on his spirit is beaming,
    And bend o'er my grave with a tear of emotion,
    Where calm Avonbui seeks the kisses of ocean,
    Or plant a wild wreath from the banks of that river,
    O'er the heart and the harp that are sleeping for ever.

We saw at a short distance, the pass which so enraptured us the night
before, but we resisted the temptation to revisit it, lest the glare of
light might disenchant us of those sublime impressions of beauty it had
made on our minds.

We found a most comfortable dinner on our arrival, for which we could
not account. In the course of the evening we learned casually from our
host that he had spent several years of his life where it was impossible
he should not have seen and known me. This was a disturbing conviction
wherewith to retire to rest, but we trusted to our propitious stars, in
which we had begun to feel a superstitious confidence. We were not
disappointed then or afterwards, and next morning we slept in
unquestioning security. We rose late and reluctantly, and left a scene
where we enjoyed more undisturbed rest and real comfort than had fallen
to our lot for weeks before. The day became dark and showery. Crossing
the bogs in the recesses of Shehigh, we were overtaken by a storm, from
which we took shelter in some hay gathered on the bleak moor, where I
wrote the following:--

      Hurrah for the outlaw's life!
      Hurrah for the felon's doom!
      Hurrah for the last death-strife!
      Hurrah for an exile's tomb!
    Come life or death, 'tis still the same,
    So we preserve our stainless name
    From losel of the coward's shame.
      Hurrah for the mountain side!
      Hurrah for the bivouac!
      Hurrah for the heaving tide!
      If rocking the felon's track.

      Hurrah for the scanty meal!
      If served by th' ungrudging hand,
      Hurrah for the hearts of steel,
      Still true to this fallen land!
    Still true, though every hazard brings
    Some new disaster on its wings,
    Which o'er her last faint hope it flings.
        Hurrah, etc.

      Hurrah; though the gibbet loom!
      Hurrah; though the brave be low!
      Hurrah; though a villain doom!
      The true to the headsman's blow.
    As long as one life-throb remain,
    We'll spurn the tyrant's gyve and chain
    On gallows-tree or bloody plain.
      Hurrah, etc.

      Hurrah for that smile of light,
      Which like a prophetic star,
      Illumined the long, lone night
      Of the wanderers from afar.
    Give us for resting-place the rath,
    Give us to brave the foeman's wrath,
    So that dear smile be o'er our path.
      Hurrah for the mountain side!
      Hurrah for the bivouac!
      Hurrah for the heaving tide!
      If rocking the felon's track.

Being apprehensive that our former retreat near Dunmanway was
discovered, and that we would be looked for there, we determined to try
another district, from which we might be able to communicate with her
who had evinced such sympathy for us. We sought the house of a friend of
hers, but found him so terrified that we could not think of forcing
ourselves on his hospitality. He promised, however, to call on her and
learn if she had any letters or other information for us. On our return,
next day, he was somewhat reassured. He brought us a note from her, and
letters from home. My comrade's was a sad, sad blow. Where he had most
trusted on earth, his application had been coldly received, and his most
unlimited confidence utterly disappointed. Money was forwarded to him
from other sources; but the spirit that braved every disaster up to
that, broke under disappointed affection and blighted love. For some
time he refused to take another step, but yielding himself up to the
agony of shattered feelings, he ardently desired to abandon a struggle
involving nothing but the life he no longer desired to save. From my
knowledge of the country, and other resources, he regarded my chances of
escape as favourable, and his own presence as an impediment and a check.
He was therefore anxious to relieve me of a burden, at the same time
that he would free himself from a weight still more intolerable. In that
he was mistaken. His imperturbable equanimity, and ever daring hope, had
sustained me in moments of perplexity and alarm when no other resource
could have availed. During the whole time which we spent, as it were, in
the shadow of the gibbet, his courage never faltered, and his temper
never once ruffled. The arrival of our enthusiastic friend, who had
stolen to see us, revived his spirits, and her persuasions reassured his
resolution. We drove for some time in her car, and after nightfall
returned to the house where we had slept on the previous night. A
practice which prevailed in that part of the county Cork greatly
facilitated our efforts. It was this: in the vicinity of the great
routes of travel, the farmers are in the habit of giving lodgings for
payment, the amount of which generally depends on the traveller's
ability to pay. As our means, for purposes of at least this kind were
not stinted, we were sure of welcome a second time. But this fact had a
tendency to frustrate our aim in another point of view; for it always
excited curiosity, so that it was doubtful whether we would not be
safer with persons who would provide for us at the cost of their last
morsel, by confiding to them who and what we were. But in this district
of Cork, the centre of which is the notorious town of Bandon, were
scattered several families of Orangemen, who were intensely inimical to
the cause and people of Ireland. In this very instance we lodged with
one of those families. A letter that I tore near the house was picked
up, put together, and read, so as to lead to suspicion, which was
immediately communicated to the magistrate. This caused the most
vigilant surveillance to be exercised over the homes and persons of our
friends. But before the discovery was made we were far beyond the reach
of our pursuers. We had learned that the efforts made for our escape
were unsuccessful, and that time would be required to effect anything,
so as not to arouse the suspicion of those who guarded the coast; and we
agreed to conceal ourselves as best we could in some distant part of the
country, for three weeks, and then return or communicate with our
friend, who promised, meantime, to leave no effort untried on our
behalf. A second time, we set out by the same route. When we found
ourselves on a hill-top, far from human haunts, we sat down as was our
wont, to consider our future course. We determined to visit some obscure
watering-place in the vicinity of Cape Clear. With that view we skirted
the picturesque mountains that surround Dunmanway. These mountains
present features to which the eye of one living in the inland country is
little accustomed. The mountains of the midland and eastern counties are
generally enormous clumps with little inequality of surface, and
covered over with heath and weeds. Here, on the contrary, the mountains
seemed to be carved out into the most fantastic shapes, covered with
white granite stones, whose reflections in the watery surface gave the
scene an appearance of singular beauty. However strange it may appear,
we lingered over these picturesque scenes in intense delight; the more
so because there seemed no limit to our journey, and no definite aim to
which our efforts led. And a mountain-top has always an assurance of
safety stamped upon it. There we could indulge our admiration for the
beautiful; there we could snatch an hour of fearless and unbroken sleep.

But elements of danger began to lower over our loved haunts. The grouse
season had just set in, and occasionally the report of a musket broke
our reverie, or startled our deepest sleep. Yet, even from this cup of
bitterness did we derive some sparkles of happiness. We could easily
avoid the sportsman's eye; and when we wanted anything from the lower
regions, the vicinity of the mountains, and the business of the fowler,
accounted for our presence and our wants, and readily gained us a
supply. But the potato crop had failed, and the disease had already
destroyed all the tubers which had approached maturity. This rendered it
necessary to look to other resources, and we contrived to procure bread
and sometimes meat, which we were able to get prepared easily under
pretence of being catering for shooting parties.

On the first day we made this experiment, we found ourselves descending
into that dreary plain that stretches out to the doomed district of
Skibbereen. Under cover of night we sought to penetrate this desolate
region in the remotest direction of the sea, where we hoped we might
remain unnoticed as country bathers. We obtained shelter at a small
farmers, and made a great many inquiries concerning the neighbouring
watering-places, whither we said we were going for the benefit of our
health. There were two young girls, the confidence of one of whom my
comrade contrived to win during the evening. She told him that her
sister had a courtship with the sergeant of police, who usually visited
there every day. This hastened our departure next morning. We set out in
the grey dawn, and once again reascended the mountain, to rest and take
thought. The communication of the young girl; the sister's long delay,
when she went to procure refreshments at the village, where the
police-sergeant was stationed; the father's pursuits, and other
circumstances, induced us to believe that to follow the plan which, to a
certain extent, we had unfolded, would be dangerous. We therefore
determined to change our course. We were then about fifteen miles
south-southwest of Dunmanway. Adhering to our resolution of settling for
a few weeks in some village on the seaside, we purposed to substitute
the Kerry side of Bantry Bay for the district we had at first fixed on.
The distance was about fifty miles, and we had to cross a plain several
miles wide. We swept over this plain with a rapidity that taxed severely
our exhausted energies, and lay down to sleep on the first patch of
heath we gained on the Bantry mountains.

We bathed our feet in a mountain stream, and having partaken of a slight
meal, resumed our weary journey. Night fell on us in the midst of a
desolate bog on a mountain top. We travelled several miles in search of
shelter, first in cabins and next in haycocks. It was a dark, gloomy and
threatening night. After lying for some time on the roadside, where
alone a dry spot was to be found, I forced Stephens to consent to make a
trial of the town of Bantry, then a mile distant. The darkness and gloom
were favourable to the experiment. We entered the town, and traversed
one or two streets, we knew not in what direction. On inquiring for a
lodging-house, we were directed to the house of Mrs. Barry, who kept a
large grocery establishment. We found accommodation and comfort. Next
day, having made some small purchases through the agency of the servant,
and posted some letters, we deliberately walked out of Bantry, by the
road which seemed to lead the most directly to the country. The day was
miserable, and we found our journey through the mountains, which
overhang the beautiful bay, very unpleasant. We determined to reach a
place called the Priest's Leap, which is consecrated by a holy tradition
in the estimation of the people. They tell that in the times of
persecution a priest was set and sold in these fastnesses. Having
discovered that he was betrayed, he effected his escape through a circle
of enclosing pursuers, which it was deemed impossible to break through;
the country people believed that he floated invisibly through the air,
and alighted on the deck of a Spanish frigate then coasting these
shores.

An impenetrable fog descended the mountain, and the rain deepened into a
torrent. Moored in the bay were two war-steamers, with screw propellers;
but they had all their sails unfurled, and swung uneasily to and fro.
We, who were ignorant of their character, frequently paused to regard
them, utterly unable to account for their extraordinary movements.
Believing them American packets, which had put in through stress of
weather, we would have given worlds even for an opportunity of swimming
to them through the waters of the bay. But the coast was strictly
guarded by police and revenue officers. Notwithstanding this the vessels
had for us an irresistible attraction, and we entered a mountain cabin,
where we learned their real character. A second attempt to reach the
Priest's Leap, of whose exact bearing we were ignorant, involved us in
deeper mist and a heavier shower, from which we took shelter in a
wretched hut, directly over the bay, and within about one mile of an
hotel of great fame, frequented by travellers who are attracted to these
districts to view the magnificent bay and the singular beauty of
Glengarriff. Here we spent the remainder of the day. Eggs and potatoes
were provided for us; and when, as evening approached, we prepared to
depart to the hotel, the woman pressed us to remain, and produced clean
sheets, telling us they would give up their bed, and adding that she
would be satisfied with the fifth of what we should pay in the hotel,
where, she slyly hinted, our reception would be very doubtful in our
then trim. We readily consented to her arrangement; and it was further
agreed that her husband should go to the hotel and provide some bacon,
bread, tea, and whisky.

We had not, during our wanderings, met two such characters as this man
and woman, nor had we taken shelter in so extraordinary an abode. They
had a single child, a girl about four years of age, whose dark eyes and
compressed lip Akkad evidenced the presence of those terrible passions
which had burned deep channels along the brow and cheek of her mother.
The cabin was ten feet square, with no window and no chimney. The floor,
except where the bed was propped in a corner, was composed of a sloping
mountain rock, somewhat polished by human feet and the constant tread of
sheep, which were always shut up with the inmates at night. The fire,
which could be said to burn and smoke, but not to light, consisted of
heath sods, dug fresh from the mountain. A splinter of bog-wood, lurid
through the smoke, supplied us with light for our nightly meal. The tea
was drawn in a broken pot, and drunk from wooden vessels, while the
sheep chewed the cud in calm and happy indifference. They were about
twelve in number, and occupied the whole space of the cabin between the
bed and the fire-place.

In that singular picture, the figure of the woman stood out bold,
prominent and alone, absorbing, in its originality, every character of
the entire. Neither she nor her husband could be said to wear any dress.
Neither wore shoes or stockings, or any covering whatever on the head;
shreds of flannel, which might once have borne the shape of drawers, a
tattered shirt of unbleached linen, with an old blanket drawn uncouthly
around his waist and shoulders, completed the costume of the man. His
wife's was equally scant and rude, but so arranged as to present the
idea that even in her breast the sense of fitness, the last feeling of
froward womanhood, was not quite extinguished. The squalid rags and
matted hair, by a single touch of the hand, a gesture, or a shake of the
head, assumed such shape as she fancied would display to greatest
advantage what remained of a coarse and masculine beauty. The
consciousness that she once possessed such beauty fired at once her
heart and eye. Her foot and ankle, which had been rudely tested by
flinty rocks and many a winter's frost, were faultless; her step was
firm; her form erect and tall; her hair black as ebony; her features
coarse, but regular; her brow lofty, but furrowed and wrinkled; and her
terrible eyes dilated with pride, passion and disdain. Her lip's slight
curl, or a shade of crimson suddenly suffusing her dark complexion,
bespoke her feelings towards her husband. He was her drudge, her slave,
her horror and her convenience. Her ruling idea was a wish to have it
understood that the match was ill-assorted and compelled by necessity;
though the last idea bespoke a youth of shame. The child alone was
dressed, and with some care, as if she wished to assert its claim to a
superior paternity or better destiny. Among the predominant passions
which swayed her, avarice seemed uppermost; and she scowled ominously on
her stupid husband, whose rigid impassable stolidity seemed impervious
to all prospects and chances of pleasure and of gain.

The rain continued to pour without abatement during the whole night and
until sunset the succeeding day. The next night passed nearly in the
same way as the first, save that I could not rest from a vague sense of
apprehension with which this woman inspired me. Both the people of the
house slept on the hearth-stone, without any bed, or, as far as I know,
any covering, save their rags. I had an opportunity of overhearing their
connubial colloquy, which was in Irish, and had reference solely to
conjectures respecting us, our character, our object and our money. It
convinced me that our safety would be compromised by any longer delay.
During the pauses of their conversation, I endeavoured to string
together a rough draft of the stanzas that follow, or a considerable
part of them. I give them here, with the accompanying notes, as they
were published in the _People_ newspaper. In the notes or in the text,
there is nothing I wish to alter.

    Air: "_Gradh mo Chroidhe_."

    The long, long-wished for hour had come,
      Yet came, mo stór, in vain,
    And left thee but the wailing hum
      Of sorrow and of pain.
    My light of life, my lonely love,
      Thy portion sure must be,
    Man's scorn below, God's wrath above
      A Chuisle geal mo chroidhe.

    'Twas told of thee, the world around,
      'Twas hoped from thee by all,
    That, with one gallant sunward bound,
      Thou'dst burst long ages thrall.
    Thy faith was tried, alas! and those
      Who perilled all for thee,
    Were cursed, and branded as thy foes;
      A Chuisle geal mo chroidhe.

    What fate is thine, unhappy isle,
      That even the trusted few[13]
    Should pay thee back with hate and guile,
      When most they should be true?
    'Twas not _thy_ strength or spirit failed;
      And those that bleed for thee,
    And love thee truly, have not quailed;
      A Chuisle geal mo chroidhe.

    I've given thee manhood's early prime,
      And manhood's waning years;
    I've blest thee in thy sunniest time,
      And shed with thee my tears;
    And mother, though thou'st cast away
      The child who'd die for thee,
    My latest accents still shall pray
      For Chuisle geal mo chroidhe.

    I've tracked for thee the mountain sides,
      And slept within the brake,
    More lonely than the swan that glides
      O'er Lua's fairy lake.[14]
    The rich have spurned me from their door,
      Because I'd set thee free;
    Yet do I love thee more and more,
      A Chuisle geal mo chroidhe.

    I've run the outlaw's brief career,
      And borne his load of ill,
    His troubled rest, his ceaseless fear,
      With fixed sustaining will;
    And should his last dark chance befall,
      E'en that shall welcome be,
    In death, I'll love thee, most of all,
      A Chuisle geal mo chroidhe.

I was awakened next morning by a strange voice, with an accent, as I
thought, different from that which we had been accustomed to. Our
immediate conclusion was that we were betrayed. But a short time
convinced us that our visitor had come to warn us that if we remained
many hours where we were, our fate would be sealed. He represented
"Finey" (as our hostess was familiarly called, in derision of her
affected pride) in colours not very flattering to her virtue. He said he
could positively furnish us with the means of escape; described his
resources as unlimited, and his interest in us as paramount to every
consideration he had on earth. He was an ecclesiastical student, and had
left college to take part in the struggle of his country. He bitterly
lamented that Dillon and O'Gorman were not in the way, that he might
have the happiness of assisting in saving them also. Agreeably to his
advice, we left our den and proceeded up the mountain. It was Sunday
morning, and there was not a cloud darkening the azure sky. Below us
slept the waters of the bay, reflecting, in their crystal depths, the
superincumbent mountains and overarching sky. The sun rose majestically,
broad, unclouded, full of effulgence, and shed his yellow beams, on a
scene as lovely as ever met his burning eye. The mountains around the
bay form very nearly a complete circle; the numerous peaks, from south
to north, range at an average height of about 500 feet above the water's
level, while a few ascend as high as 1,000. We stood on the loftiest of
all. Immediately below us, a little to the right, embosomed in the
mountains, lay the unmatched beauties of Glengarriff. There are few
spots on earth of wilder attractions. The hills around form a complete
amphitheatre. On an island in the centre of the valley is the cottage of
the noble proprietor, accessible only by one narrow pathway which winds
through hillocks and passes various rivulets on rustic bridges. The
grounds about the cottages are tastefully laid out in shrubberies,
flower-knots, green pastures, and artificial lakes. That which
constitutes the chief feature of beauty in other landscapes, namely, an
extensive prospect, is wanting here. From the cottage, or any part of
the grounds, you can only command a view of the limited demesne, and the
craggy and bleak mountain rising almost perpendicularly from its
outskirts. But the view is unique, and the contrast exquisite between
the rich green of the arbutus, amidst clumps of which sparkle the
impeded mountain waters, and the barren hill-sides whose blue summits
seem blended with the skies giving to the scene such an air of calm
serenity and soft repose as to leave the beholder almost without a wish
to look beyond.

[Illustration: Market Day in Thurles, August, 1848]

By this time we had learned to lose all consciousness of our own fate in
contemplating lines of beauty such as then marked the outline and
radiated through every minor detail of mountain, ocean, and cosy lawn.
We dwelt on the scene with enraptured eye and heart, and scarcely felt
the time glide by, which was to bring us our promised deliverer. He was
with us at the appointed moment, and only preceded his sisters by about
half an hour. They came, three in number, and toiled up to the summit
under a hot sun, bringing each a basket with abundant and delicate
provisions for a picnic. They were joined soon after by two other
brothers, who kept watch while we enjoyed the delicacies of our meal,
which we finished with some bottles of excellent claret. While we were
thus engaged, Lord Bantry was at the cabin we had left, gnashing his
teeth at the misfortune of missing such a prey. My comrade sang the
newly-composed verses and others of more exquisite melody and far higher
sentiment, within less than half a mile of the frowning and fuming lord.
At four o'clock we took leave of our kind entertainers, the student
promising to use the coming night in efforts to secure our flight, and a
younger brother undertaking to act as our guide across the mountain and
round the base of the Glengarriff ridge of hills to a dark gorge, at the
County Kerry side. This was a most trying journey, at least twenty
miles long, over precipitous mountains, and performed, for the most
part, during night. It was necessary that we should not rest until we
travelled far out of range of the locality where our persons had been
known and our retreat discovered. Our young guide left us with friends
or dependents of his family, and returned to be in readiness to
communicate any tidings from his brother. Those tidings came fast on our
footsteps; but the message was to warn us that we were not even there
safe; for that Lord Bantry had all his tenantry engaged in searching for
us. The despatch added that, if able, we were to be at the "Priest's
Leap" at a certain hour in the evening, where we would hear the result
of the efforts made for us. The tone of the letter left us nothing to
hope; still we determined to test the doubtful promise to the last.
Accordingly we set out for the new rendezvous. The distance was very
long unless we crossed through Glengarriff. This we determined to do,
feeling satisfied that the last place we would be looked for would be
his lordship's pleasure-grounds. We paused to examine more minutely the
exquisite serenity of that scene, and learned from a game-keeper several
matters illustrative of our pursuer's character, while his adherents
were tracking our supposed footsteps, over moor and mountain, far away.
Arrived at our destination, we had to wait several hours, during which
we were amused by our guide claiming fraternity with us, on the ground
of being banned by the law, in consequence of a suspicion (a false one,
he averred) of having mistaken another man's sheep for his own. He had
an idea that we, too, must have infringed the law, but in what
particular he did not concern himself to inquire. The fact sufficed for
the establishment of a good understanding between us.

We at last saw our female friends approach. They brought us another
excellent dinner, for which we had a still more excellent appetite.
During the time we dined, they informed us that everything was
proceeding as favourably as we could expect, and that they had no doubt
of success. When taking leave of us, however, one of them pressed a
little note into my hand, and they disappeared in the darkness. I burned
to learn what the note contained. With the assistance of our new friend
we found lodgings in the neighbourhood, where I read that the student
failing in his enterprise, and being afraid to compromise himself
further, left that very night for college. He had to consult a
clergyman, a very near friend of his, and we made no doubt the present
step resulted from his considerate advice.

This is written here, not for the purpose of disparaging the clergyman's
counsel or the student's resolution. On the contrary, no doubt was then
entertained of the sincerity of either, nor has there ever since been.
There could be no one more disposed to make allowance for the difficult
position in which both were placed, as well as all others who ventured
to serve us: nor could we blame men for shrinking from peril, which at
the best, presented no rational chance for us, while the effort involved
those who made it in almost certain ruin. I had other opportunities of
satisfying myself afterward that this clergyman, who visited us in the
mountains, never relaxed in his exertions to save us.

We found ourselves next morning in an exceedingly romantic valley to
the north of the "Priest's Leap," the property of Lord Lansdowne, where
there are many comfortable farmers' houses, and many others, whose showy
exterior is sadly belied by the filth and discomfort of the inside. We
spent the day with the man of the sheep, who promised to obtain lodgings
for us at a publichouse, where he was refused. But during our stay there
we met a farmer's son, who took us home and travelled with us the whole
of the next day. We proposed to him and his sister to accompany us to
the United States, having for some time entertained seriously a project
of trying our chances to escape as emigrants. He consented to be of the
party, although we fully explained to him the risk of being taken in our
company. He guessed from this that we were engaged in the attempted
outbreak, and being sent in to the town of Kenmare to make some
purchases, he could not conceal so important a secret, but sought out a
friend, a true man, to whom he unburdened himself. We had appointed to
meet him at a place called Cross, about two miles from Kenmare. We were
repairing thither at the appointed hour, and were met, not by our trusty
messenger, but the friend to whom he had revealed his important secret.
This friend, alarmed at our temerity in approaching so near the town,
had come to forewarn us. His advances were met by distrust and menace,
which pained him deeply. He remonstrated and referred to the fact of
coming to meet us alone, when if he meant us injury he could easily
secure us. Satisfied, at length, that his friendship was sincere, we
consented to accompany him to meet another friend who had taken a
different road in the direction of the mountain. He was known to us by
character, but that knowledge, with me at least, tended to increase
rather than to allay distrust. I had formed an idea of the man from
reading speeches of his which appeared of an unscrupulously partisan
character. I was very soon disabused, but not however until I
communicated to him my feelings in his regard. The best proof of my
mistake is furnished by the fact that my unnecessary frankness did not
in the least check the enthusiasm with which he was prepared to risk
fortune, liberty and life in our service. Our interview was short. We
dismissed the ambassador who had acquired for us these new allies. They,
or rather he, of whom I have last spoken offered us money which we
declined. In opposition to his remonstrance, we insisted on remaining
for the night at a publichouse in the village of Cross. He, to whom
peril was new, could not understand our "audacity." But we who had
experienced the disadvantages of asking for entertainment in quarters
where such things were unusual, preferred the chance of escaping
unobserved among crowds of persons similar in appearance and, applying
only for ordinary accommodation. In this and many such instances we
determined aright. We obtained a comfortable bed and passed unnoticed.
Next morning we set out for the southern slope of the Killarney
mountains. As soon as we attained a safe elevation, we took a western
direction, skirting those mountains and crossing the road which leads
from Killarney to Kenmare, about five miles from the latter town. We
then kept a westerly direction, and turned round the vast bog situated
at the western side of the road. This bog contains several thousand
acres, and seems quite susceptible of reclamation and improvement. We
ascended the steep hill at the north-western boundary where we slept for
an hour or so, and then resumed our journey in the direction of the
Reeks. We purposed ascending the loftiest of these mountains, and not
wishing to take the route by the Gap of Dunloe, we crossed the
intermediate valley and began to ascend the mountain to the north,
believing it to be that which we had determined to climb. After having
toiled to the summit, we discovered in the distance the peak we were in
search of, its wonderful elevation leaving no manner of doubt as to its
identity. Between us and its base lay another broad valley. Before
attempting the ascent, we secured a lodging at the foot, and leaving our
coats behind, we began our task about four o'clock in the evening,
having then travelled upwards of twenty miles and crossed two large
mountains. The southern acclivity is more steep than the northern, and
we lost much by our ignorance of the best routes; but we reached
Carn-Tuathail, far the highest spot in Ireland, about sunset. The view
that presents itself from that peak is of the most extraordinary
character. Stretching out into the sea a distance of thirty miles, is a
jumble of mountains tossed together in the wildest confusion, and
exhibiting no definite outline. At the east, far inland, lay the long
ridge of which Mangerton is the loftiest point. At the north alone could
we discern an extensive view, where a rich and well cultivated valley
extended along Dingle Bay as far as Ballyheige. But the grandeur of the
scene Jay at our feet. Beneath us yawned at every side chasms of
seemingly unfathomable depth, whose darkness it was impossible to
penetrate, as the sun was sinking in the Atlantic. It was really a
spectacle full of grandeur and of awe, and we remained enjoying it till
the last ray of the sun ceased to glimmer on the distant waters.

At that hour, we were well assured, many a brain was busy, and many an
eye set to discover our retreat. By the side of the public
thoroughfares, on great bridges, and frequented cross-roads, detective
vigilance kept sleepless watch, and fancied in every approaching form,
the doomed victims, who were at once to satisfy the angry gallows and
its own excited avarice. Equally well assured were we that the most
inventive and hazardous scrutiny would never track our footsteps to the
dizzy height of Carn-Tuathail. One motive with us was to baffle all
calculation on the part of our pursuers. When we found we were tracked
and discovered, our first care was to consider how our enemies would be
likely to judge respecting our future movements. If we had reason to
suspect that we were recognised on a mountain, we sought shelter in or
near a town, and after we appeared in public places for a day or an
hour, we kept the mountain-side for a week following.

We had, too, another, and it must needs be confessed, a more powerful
motive. In either alternative which our fate presented, there was no
hope of ever beholding these scenes again, and we could not omit this
last opportunity of minutely examining and enjoying what was grandest
and loveliest in our native land. We resolved, therefore, to leave no
glorious spot unvisited, whatever toil it cost, or risk it exposed us
to. Mountains, indeed, never did involve a risk, but the Lakes of
Killarney, which were much frequented at the time, could not be seen
without imminent danger, unless by overcoming great physical
difficulties. After we descended from Carn-Tuathail, we were so utterly
exhausted as to be obliged to lie down in hay, within one field of the
cabin where we were to sleep, from which nothing could tempt us to stir
for the night; but we were assailed by swarms of small flies of the
mosquito species, that stung us to further exertion. Although the owners
of the cabin gave us their only bed, and provided the best supper for
us, we were so persecuted by these flies, that we were forced to quit
our bed before day dawned, and endeavour to shake off our tormentors by
rolling in the dew and shaking our shirts in the wind. We set out early,
finding the place utterly intolerable, owing to these terrible
tormentors, although we had resolved the evening before, to remain a few
days fishing in the lovely lakes collected in the gorges of the reeks.
The day was misty and wet. This, we hoped, would afford us a good
opportunity of seeing the lakes unobserved; for such weather would
necessarily confine the tourists to their hotels. We accordingly
directed our way to the Upper Lake, along ledges of rocks covered with
tall wet grass, wading or swimming through outlets of the lake. We
obtained a tolerable view of the Upper Lake, and minutely examined the
several accesses to it through the wood on the southern side. After
spending most of the fore-noon in this wood, we attempted to cross the
upper neck of the lake for the purpose of skirting the base of
Mangerton and gaining the summit of Turc Mountain, from which are to be
seen the Middle and Lower Lake in their most varied and seductive
loveliness. Few travellers ever see the lakes from this point, because
it is difficult to attain; but I had been there, and knowing its
superiority over every other, I wished to give my comrade a taste of the
exquisite pleasure derivable from a scene of beauty unsurpassed in the
world. There is no spot, in or near Killarney, from which its wonderful
scenery can be seen to such advantage. On the water, at Ross Island, at
Mucross or Glena, the view is confined to the scenery immediately
around, with an occasional glimpse of the nearer mountains, which indeed
may well satisfy the most exacting curiosity and fastidious taste, while
from the summit of Mangerton (the great mountain attraction of
travellers) but miniature forms of beauty present themselves, the great
distance and height contracting the circle of beauty, and depriving
every object of its fulness and natural proportions. From Turc mountain,
on the other hand, you see the lake at your feet--all its islets, curls,
cascades are within ken, entrancing your senses. Standing on that green
hill, it is impossible to divest the mind of the idea, that the scene is
one of pure enchantment.

But we were destined not to realise it. There was a police-station
immediately on our way. In our first effort to avoid it, we found
ourselves, after much trouble, within one field of the door. We then
made a still wider circuit, keeping, as we thought, far clear of it; but
following a valley which led round a clump of hill, we once more very
nearly stepped into its back yard. To avoid similar mistakes we
ventured along the public road direct towards Kenmare; but when we were
clear of the police-barrack, we had to travel several miles of mountain
to gain the intended spot. Our feet were all cut and bleeding, and we
lay down on a rock in our wet clothes, where we slept soundly, and I
suppose sweetly, until near sunset. When we awoke we were obliged, from
the lateness of the hour, to abandon our project.

During our stay near Killarney, we fondly indulged the last dream for
our country. In the remote regions of the counties of Cork and Kerry,
the people seemed possessed of no political information. They had a
vague notion that an effort was made to free the country from foreign
thrall, and that the patriots and their cause were lost through the
Catholic priests. It was easy to perceive, by the bitterness with which
they cursed, that they--although never reached by a speech of Mr.
O'Connell's, or an article or song of the _Nation's_--had cherished in
their hearts the same imperishable purpose and hope of overturning the
dominion of the stranger. We calculated on collecting between fifty and
one hundred of the hardiest and most desperate mountaineers, whom we
could easily place in ambush near the lakes, to seize on Lord John
Russell, who was at the time announced as a visitor to Killarney. Once
in our possession, we could have him conveyed to some inaccessible
fastness where we could dictate terms to him concerning our imprisoned
comrades. We had scarcely a doubt of putting our plan into execution,
and our sojourn near Killarney was prolonged for the purpose of becoming
more familiar with the pathways whereby to escape to the mountains with
our prisoner. How success in that enterprise might have suggested or
shaped a further course of aggression, it is now bootless to conjecture.
The project was marred by the Premier's abandonment of his intention.

Having appointed to meet a person this evening, near Kenmare, who was to
bring us the latest papers and otherwise inform us of his lordship's
movements, we proceeded in that direction, determined to return to
Killarney next day to prosecute our examination of the locality. But the
current news informed us that Lord John Russell had left for Scotland.

We remained several days in the neighbourhood of Kenmare, where we had
daily interviews with the friend to whom I have already alluded. He
spent all his time in endeavouring to devise some means of escape, and
intermediately provided resting-places for us at various distances. We
had the guidance of a young country lad of fine intelligence and true
fidelity, who was acquainted with every foot of bog and mountain for
miles around. We spent several days rather agreeably, perambulating the
ranges of hills between Kilfademore and Templenoe, embracing a district
about fifteen miles square. One night we slept in an empty cabin within
a field of Kilfademore House, a fine old mansion, belonging to the
father of Christabel,[15] the mountain poetess, which is now only
inhabited by the tenant of the farm, while the whole available military
and police force of the district were drawing their lines of
circumvallation around this old house, which, as soon as they made the
proper dispositions to prevent our escape, they burst into with the
stealth and precipitancy of a robber band.

We were most kindly received and cared for wherever our friend or his
guide bespoke a night's hospitality. But although we unquestioningly
reposed on the truth of all to whom our safety was committed, we felt
the circle of our armed foes was closing and contracting around us, and
it became indispensable to break through it. It was clear that our steps
were tracked, for every night a search was made for us in one or other
of the houses over which the influence of our friend extended. But our
information respecting their arrangements was always earlier and surer
than theirs concerning our movements. During this interval when,
although we travelled an average of fifteen miles a day, we considered
ourselves resting, we received the kindest attentions everywhere;
frequently finding a rude mountain cabin furnished with excellent beds
and every delicacy. But we pined to be more at large. We had interviews
with clergymen and others, who discussed various projects of escape.
Among the rest, it was proposed to my comrade to accompany a lady--who
was about leaving for London--in the dress and character of a
servant-maid. He was well fitted for such disguise, being extremely
young and having very delicate features. Besides this, he was supposed
to be dead, having received a slight wound in the skirmish at
Ballingarry. He obstinately refused to adopt the disguise, but consented
to that of a servant boy. When the matter was finally arranged, it was
proposed to us to sleep at Templenoe, on the north side of Kenmare Bay,
where he was to be furnished with suitable clothes. Since the
commencement, I did not feel the same sense of desolation as when these
arrangements were completed, and an hour was appointed for his departure
next morning. It was on the evening of the 23rd of September. We spent
the day with one of the noblest of fellows. He had beds brought far into
the neighbouring mountains, where he remained with us for the night. A
cloud of sadness, and I believe chagrin, enveloped all my senses. I
could not help feeling myself utterly abandoned. It seemed fated that
even from the most kindly efforts my unfortunate position utterly
excluded me. Stephens sang as usual, and endeavoured to rally me; but my
mind had set in impenetrable gloom. One idea was uppermost with me,
namely, that within the circle that was then drawn around me, there was
no further possible safety. We parted before daylight, and I immediately
determined on my own course. It was this: to assume the disguise of a
clergyman and attempt to cross to France. The trials at Clonmel were
approaching, and I concluded that they would engross the entire
attention of Government, and would even require the presence of the
whole corps of detectives who were acquainted with my person and were
then on my track. I communicated my intention to the friend to whose
hospitality I was then indebted. He combatted it with great earnestness,
and could not be persuaded of its practicability. I, however,
persevered, and he offered to place a horse, upon which he set great
value, at my disposal. Just as we made our final arrangements and had
despatched a messenger to Kenmare to provide the disguise, Stephens
returned, wet, weary and hungry. He was in the worst spirits: but the
case admitted of no delay. The lady with whom he was to travel had to
stay one day in Cork, and to overtake her there was the only chance
left. There was only one possible way to effect this--to give him the
horse and let him ride on to Cork. I at once agreed, and he immediately
set off. The loss of the horse imposed on me the difficulty of a journey
on foot to Cork, and this rendered the assistance of a man to carry my
disguise--who would take a different route from myself--indispensable.
Our friend who, in giving his favourite horse to Stephens, told him to
try and sell him in Cork and put the money in his pocket, provided me
with another horse and car, by which my baggage was to be brought about
forty miles. Having settled all preliminaries, he conveyed me to a cabin
on the hills, where he provided an excellent dinner, and left me to my
musings.

They were, it may be well conceived, not of the gayest character. The
responsibility and hazards of the attempt before me, narrowed the
chances of my destiny to the one alternative, and I could not shake off
gloomy phantoms which represented every phase of the last bloody drama
which was to close the career of those who loved, too dearly, our
ill-fated land. But, come what might, my purpose was definitely fixed. I
spent the evening in the deepest gloom, which I endeavoured to dissipate
by composing the following stanzas, suggested at the time by involuntary
visions of my wife and children at the foot of the gallows:--

    THE OUTLAW'S WIFE

    Sadly silent she sits, with her head on her hand,
      While she prays, in her heart, to the Ruler above,
    To protect, and to guide to some happier land,
      The joy of her soul and the spouse of her love:
    And she marks by her pulses, so wild in their play,
      The slow progress of time, as it straggles along;
    And she lists to the wind, as 'tis moaning away,
      And she deems it the chaunt of some funeral song.

    Then anon does she start in her struggles with fear,
      And she strains at the whispers of every one round,
    While she brushes away, half indignant, the tear,
      That will gush, tho' unbidden, at every fresh sound;
    And she strives to conceal--oh! how idle the task--
      The deep lines in her cheek, and the rent in her heart;
    But her neighbours grow pale as they gaze on the mask,
      And more lowly and slowly they talk, as they part.

    When her babes are at rest will she breathe to their breath,
      And keep vigil, how wistfully, over their sleep,
    As it mirrors, poor mourner, the stillness of death,
      And she stirs them, and calls, for she deems it too deep;
    But again does she hush them, first telling them pray,
      Till at length overcharged by the tears yet unshed,
    Will she sink, and as consciousness passes away,
      O'er her pale furrowed cheek, see the hectic o'erspread.

    Slowly thus, day by day, does the fever-fire trace
      Its incessant course down her fast-withering cheek,
    Till the smile that made light in the glow of her face,
      But the faint, fading glimpses of vigour bespeak,
    And her reason will fitfully pass into night--
      Into night even deeper than that of the blind,
    As the shade of the gibbet-tree looms in her sight.
      And she fancies a death-scream in th' echoing wind.

In the house where I slept--as indeed in every house of the same
character in the county--the whole stock of the family, consisting
chiefly of cows and sheep, were locked in at night. Such was the extreme
poverty of the people that they would not be otherwise safe. The weather
was excessively wet, and, for the season, cold. There was a slight
partition between the room where my bed was and the kitchen, where there
were three cows, a man, his wife and four children. It is impossible to
convey any idea of the sensations which crowd upon one in such a scene.
I fell asleep at last, lulled by the heavy breathing and monotonous
ruminating of the cows. Never was deeper sleep. On being awakened next
morning by my watchful friend, it required some time before I could
satisfy myself of my position. An excellent breakfast was provided for
me, and I parted from my stout-hearted and magnanimous ally. He had sent
my baggage, and also provided me with a guide who would lead me across
the mountains. He taught me the password of his clan, which I was to use
on certain contingencies. The morning was fearfully wet, and we did not
travel many miles before we were wet to the skin. The circumstance was
the most auspicious that could occur, as it enabled us to pass
unobserved.

[Illustration: James Stephens (Circa 1867)]

[Illustration: John O'Mahony (Circa 1868)]

Besides this, it facilitated the task of crossing streams, which we
always did precisely as if they were dry land. One river only opposed a
serious barrier to us--that, which enters Kenmare Bay. It was greatly
swollen, and rushed fiercely over precipitous rocks. At the same time,
even in the rain and tempest, to cross the bridge was not to be thought
of. The guide pointed out a house belonging to one of our friend's
clan who immediately provided a horse and accompanied us to a ford. When
we reached the ford he hesitated to cross, so deep and rapid was the
flood. No persuasion could induce him to make the experiment. I had no
choice left but to trust myself to chance. I faced the animal against
the current, and forcing him to make his best efforts to mount the
stream, we were carried directly across. The owner of the horse said he
would come back of his own accord. I turned him into the stream, and
when half way across, he was borne headlong over a precipice, where I
concluded he was dashed to pieces. Another horse was immediately
procured, by a man who had no fears, to bring the guide across; but the
latter was so terrified that he made himself drunk ere he attempted the
dangerous passage. As he was essential to me in consequence of the
arrangements made about my luggage, I endeavoured to rouse him. He
staggered on for several miles, but seemed utterly unconscious where he
was going. When I found him incapable of directing me, I endeavoured to
procure some food for him, and with that view proceeded to a mountain
hut, but before I reached it, he sank down utterly exhausted and
powerless. He was unable even to articulate the name of the man to whose
house he was directed to take me, or the locality where he lived. It was
only from circumstances and a dim recollection of the name that I was
able to apprise the owner of the cabin whither I was bound; and after
all, much remained for the exercise of his sagacity, which was not long
at fault. We brought my old guide to the cabin, thrown across a pony,
and I set out anew, guided by the dweller on the hills. He forced me to
mount the pony, and led the way over the crags. He bounded from rock to
rock with the agility of a deer, though the stones were sharp as flint,
and he barefooted. He was a man of powerful proportions and extreme
activity. My pony, on the other hand, crept his way through narrow
pathways, worn by the rain. In this way we crossed two considerable
mountains, and, leaving the pony at the summit of the last, I pursued my
companion's flight down the slope with the best speed my stiffened limbs
could be forced to. Arriving over a valley which is called, I think,
Branlieu, situated in a western direction from Gougane Barra, he pointed
to a lone house at the extremity of the valley, as my destination. It
was about four o'clock, but the rays of the sun had ceased to irradiate
this gloomy valley, over which hung the shades of night. At the western
side the mountain was steep as a wall, and down from the summit dashed
headlong torrents, swelled by the morning's rain. The waters gleamed
like sheeted ice through the haze, and their roar fell upon the ear with
a dull sense of loneliness and pain. On the eastern slope wound a new
road, one of those heartless experiments which the inventive genius of
the Board of Works in Ireland substituted for the exploded trial of
prolonging beggars' lives by Soyer soup and chained spoons. On these
roads the people were to perform the greatest possible amount of work,
and live on the least possible quantity of food. But, although these
operations cost much waste of blood, the roads opened no new and
fruitful sources of industry in these mountain valleys, only frequented
by the footsteps of the sportsman, or scanned by the eye of the
votaries of pleasure. The house where I called was intended for my
guide. However, I found my claim for hospitality at once recognised on
pronouncing the password of my host by the sea. The cabin--it was
literally such--was in the most filthy state. The dung of the cattle had
not been removed for days, and half-naked children squatted in it as
joyously as if they rolled on richest carpets. The housewife merely
replied to my question in the affirmative. But she immediately
proceeded, with the help of two little girls, to remove the filth. I was
so fatigued and hungry that I could willingly postpone the process of
cleaning for the sake of providing any sort of food. I was doomed to
disappointment. No appearance of supper interrupted the busy operation,
until the dung was removed, and the floor drained. I retired, and
endeavoured to ascend the eastern hill, to a point where I could catch a
glimpse of the setting sun.

On my return I found the owner of the house, a man of giant frame and
noble features. His dress bespoke a taste or pursuit incompatible with
the wild mountain destiny stamped upon the external aspect of his home
and family. His wife spoke a few words in Irish, explaining my presence,
to which he answered that I was welcome. Supper was at length prepared,
when he drew from a basket a few of the finest trout I ever saw. He
cleaned and fried them with his own hands, as if the operation were
above the capacity of his wife, who performed the other culinary duties
with silent assiduity. It might be owing to hunger, it might be owing to
the actual superiority of the fish, or it might be owing to the mode of
cooking, but it seemed to me as if I never tasted anything of equal
flavour to those trout. The entertainment was ended with some boiled new
milk, slightly curdled, a delicacy little known in the circle of
fashion, but never surpassed either in that or any other. Some fresh hay
was procured and strewn on an article of furniture common in the houses
of the Kerry peasantry, called a "settle." It is a sort of a rude sofa,
made of common deal timber. On this "settle" my host prepared my bed of
new-mown hay, barricaded with old chairs and a table against the
assaults of the hungry animals. I had not long lain down when a man
entered (the door consisted of a pair of tongs, so placed as to prevent
the egress of the cattle), lay at full length on the table, and fell
fast asleep. In an hour or so afterwards, there came another, who groped
his way over the cattle, and, sweeping the fire from the hearth, lay
down to sleep in peace. This man slept uneasily, and groaned heavily, as
if some terrible sense of guilt or fear pressed against his heart.

I had a vague feeling of uneasiness, not free from alarm, but the hearty
snoring of the one, and the fitful complaints of the other of my
bedfellows died away on my ear, and I, too, shared their unconsciousness
in deep sleep. The man who brought my baggage arrived early next
morning. My host soon provided a good substantial breakfast--excellent
new potatoes, which had escaped the blight, butter, new milk, and a
slice of the flesh of fried badger. He then proposed to accompany us
with his son, aged about thirteen, who by some inexplicable privilege
seemed exempt from any portion of the drudgery which was the lot of the
family. The other man who brought the baggage was persuaded to leave his
horse and car, and accompany us with my bundle, as far as the summit of
the hill. To climb the steepest mountain side had become an amusement to
me, and we ascended the one then before us, merrily, our host relating
many anecdotes of sportsmanship, and detailing the startling incidents
and wild rapture of badger-hunting. From the summit we commanded a view
of the country for miles around. "Here we are," said our host, "higher
than the proudest of your enemies." He then traced the route of the man
with the bundle, through the open plain, and by the nearest way; and
turning to me, he said: "You must not go in the same direction, for
every yard of it is set. Follow my son," he said, and turning to the
boy, he named several points in the path whereby he should conduct me.
"Lead Mr. Doheny safely," he concluded, "and remember you are the son of
----." In utter astonishment I inquired how he knew me, and he answered
by waving his hand in the direction of the boy, who had bounded off and
was scarcely perceptible above the tall heath. I soon overtook him, and
as we went along, I learned that my two companions during the night were
also evading the law's pursuit. One of them he described as having
killed a man by accident, and ever after leading, the life of a "poor
wild goose." I made no doubt but this was he whose spirit seemed so
heavily laden. We had a couple of terriers of the truest breed, whose
sudden discovery of a badger interrupted our conversation and impeded
our journey. The young hunter became delirious with joy. His
encouraging cries to the dogs were broken outbursts of wildest rapture;
and when the game took shelter in his inaccessible den, he would dash
himself against the rocks with the same reckless vehemence as his dogs,
who, in their rage, attempted to bite away the hard mountain stones.

He left the spot with the utmost reluctance, after venting an oath of
vengeance against the head of the poor badger, to which he promised sure
destruction on the occasion of their next meeting. We quickly descended
in the direction of Gougane Barra, where he parted from me, indignantly
refusing a half-crown which I offered him.

Once more I found myself on the slopes of Shehigh, in sight of Lough
Lua. My immediate object was to place myself in communication with my
lady friend at Dunmanway. I was extremely anxious to see her. I wanted
to procure through her some things to complete my costume as a disguised
priest, and finally I expected to learn through her some news of my
family. With the view of seeing her in the safest retreat, I determined
to conceal myself in a wood belonging to a Mr. O'Leary, at a place
called Coolmountain. I endeavoured to gain the friendship of a man in
the neighbourhood, of whom I had learned the highest character for
probity. It was necessary to confide in him fully; for his fidelity to
his employer might induce him to betray me, if he suspected that my
flight was occasioned by moral guilt. He did not disappoint me. At once
he entered into all my plans, and immediately sent his wife with a
message to Dunmanway. The distance was about six miles; and the utmost
caution was necessary, for the police authorities, baffled in all their
calculations, concerning my retreat, and deceived in every word of the
information they were able to purchase, had determined on making
simultaneous searches in all quarters of the country, so that scarcely a
house remained in this vicinity that had not the honour of a domicilary
visit. My friend, too, who during the past three weeks had made various
attempts to see me, and had gone on to Kenmare for that purpose, was
continually dogged, and arrested three or four times. On one occasion
they stripped her nearly naked, searching for papers. She at once saw
that to see me would be attended with danger; but she wrote a hurried
note, and despatched it by another messenger, as well as a large packet
of letters from home. In these letters I was adjured to continue the
disguise of a peasant in whatever attempts I made. She, too, strongly
objected to my proposed plan, and communicated to me a project of
escaping which was suggested by a friend of hers at Cork, whither she
had gone in her anxiety. His plan was that I should proceed to Cork,
that very night, and take up my residence at some obscure lodging-house,
until he could find means of stowing me in a coal vessel, which would
take me as far as Wales. If I agreed to this proposal, I was to be at
Crookstown (already mentioned in this narrative) at six o'clock that
evening, where I would meet three men who were to conduct me by a safe
route to Cork.

When I received this information, it was four o'clock, and the distance
to Crookstown was at least seventeen miles. The plan was one of which I
could not approve; but it would be invaluable to me to have a safe
asylum in Cork, for any project I might finally decide on. I accordingly
communicated to my man of confidence the difficulty I found myself in,
and requested he would procure a horse and car which I could drive along
the high road, hoping to reach Crookstown before the promised guide
would have left. He suggested the man at whose house I stopped on a
former evening. Thither both of us repaired, after having completed my
costume, such as is generally worn by the lowest Cork
peasants--literally rags. We got the horse and car, but before the
arrangements for our departure were made it was past the hour when I
should be at Crookstown. A servant boy who led the horse was my
companion. When we arrived at Crookstown it was eleven o'clock, and we
found no trace of the messengers. Nothing remained but to try and get on
to Cork. I proposed the journey to the boy; but he resolutely refused. I
affected to acquiesce, and asked him to drink something in a
publichouse, which was kept open for the accommodation of carriers, of
whom there are large numbers at that season of the year. He soon yielded
to the influence of milk punch, and allowed me to do as I pleased. We
proceeded along the great thoroughfare, having an empty butter cask in
the car. We passed several patrolling parties in the road, and at grey
dawn we were entering the city of Cork; the boy sleeping in the car, and
the horse led by me. I paid at the custom-gate for my butter, and passed
on through the city unnoticed. A few gentle taps brought the gentleman,
who undertook to have me conveyed out of the country, to the door. I
introduced myself; was admitted, and conducted to a bedroom, where
everything was prepared for my reception. Thus I found myself in the
very heart of the city of Cork, while the strictest search was made for
me in every cabin on the mountains of Kerry and the western shore.

I felt quite secure in my then retreat. During the day I learned that
the men who were to conduct me safely to Cork were arrested three
several[C] times on their way back.

In my sojourn for two days and nights in the woods of Coolmountain, I
received attentions for which it would be shameful not to express my
gratitude. Although the crisis of my fate was so near at hand, I felt
some hours of unalloyed pleasure in its shade. I had leisure to peruse
my letters from home, so full of courage, hope and love; and to consider
well the different proposals and means of escape, suggested by others
and contemplated by myself. The weather had cleared up and there was a
succession of brilliant harvest days. I employed my evenings in
composing the following two pieces; and after nightfall I was visited by
some friends, with whom I sipped delicious champagne, till a late hour,
'neath the calm watchfulness of a brilliant harvest moon.

    EIBLIN A RUIN

    I sang thee other lays,
                Eiblin a ruin,
    But these were happy days,
                Eiblin a ruin,
    When mount and vale and grove,
    Where we were wont to rove,
    Were beautified by love,
                 Eiblin a ruin.

    I said I loved thee well,
                Eiblin a ruin.
    Too fondly far to tell,
                Eiblin a ruin.
    I loved thee as the day,
    Serener for the ray,
    Thy smile shed o'er my way,
                Eiblin a ruin.

    But day has turned to night,
                Eiblin a ruin.
    With clouds and gloom and blight,
                Eiblin a ruin,
    Yet here an outlaw lone,
    My heart else, like a stone,
    Is more and more thy own,
                Eiblin a ruin.

    When in some rocky glen,
                Eiblin a ruin.
    I share the wild dog's den,
                Eiblin a ruin,
    Oppressed with woe and care,
    As sleep comes o'er me there,
    Methinks I hear thy prayer,
                Eiblin a ruin.

    Throughout that troubled rest,
                Eiblin a ruin
    Thy image fills my breast,
                Eiblin a ruin,
    And ere the vision's fled,
    My cold and flinty bed
    Seems down unto my head,
                Eiblin a ruin.

    As night's dark shadow flies,
                Eiblin a ruin,
    Along the opening skies,
                Eiblin a ruin,
    In the soft purpling ray,
    That heralds early day,
    I see thy fond smile play,
                Eiblin a ruin.

    When, dangers thick'ning fast,
                Eiblin a ruin,
    My fate seemed sealed at last,
                Eiblin a ruin.
    A low voice ever near,
    Still whispers in mine ear--
    "For her sake do not fear"--
                 Eiblin a ruin,

    And oh, 'tis that lone hope,
                 Eiblin a ruin,
    That nerves this heart to cope,
                 Eiblin a ruin.
    With peril and with pain,
    And surging of the brain,
    More boisterous than the main,
                 Eiblin a ruin.


    TO MY WIFE

    And what was the world to me, love,
      Or why should its honours divide
    The feelings that centred in thee, love,
      As fondly you clung to my side;
    Or why should ambition or glory,
      E'er tempt me to wander so far,
    For sake of distinction in story,
      From thee, my heart's faithfulest star.

    Or why should I call thee mine own, love,
      To sport with the life that was thine,
    Or risk for a land overthrown, love,
      A stake that no longer was mine;
    Or why should I pledge for the fallen
      What only belonged to the free;
    For had I not gauged life and all on
      The faith that was plighted to thee?

    And here, while I wander alone, love,
      Beneath the cold shadows of night,
    Or lie with my head on a stone, love,
      Awaiting the dawning of light,
    My spirit unthralled is returning,
      Where far from the coward and slave,
    Her beacon of love is still burning,
      To light, to direct me and save.

    And she, too, who watches beside thee,
      And loves as none other could love,
    To counsel, to cherish and guide thee.
      To weep with, but never reprove--
    Yes, she too, is lone and unguarded,
      The reed she had leant on in twain,
    And though her trust thus be rewarded,
      She'd love that love over again.


COOLMOUNTAIN WOOD.

At Cork two families were compromised by my prolonged stay, one of them
irretrievably, if I were arrested. However, they placed themselves
entirely and unconditionally at my disposal. I stated my objections to
the proposed conveyance of a coal boat to Wales, where I would be
equally exposed as in Ireland, and have infinitely less sympathy or
assistance. I suggested one of the London steamers instead, which they
agreed to. After some preliminary negotiations, a person connected with
one of those vessels promised to secrete me and have me landed at
Southampton, where I could easily procure a passage to France. Just as
this arrangement was concluded, news arrived that Tipperary was again in
arms, under the command of my friend, O'Mahony. The report added that I
was associated with him in command. Hour after hour brought some story
stranger than that which preceded it; but in each and all I found myself
figuring in some character or other, all, of course, contrary to the
truth. This fact led at once to a suspicion of the accuracy of the
whole. But I was aware that caution was a leading characteristic of
O'Mahony's genius, and I felt assured he would not attempt any open
movement without strong probabilities of success. The fabrications about
myself I reconciled to the belief that he wished it to appear he had my
sanction and support. The vessel was to sail next day, and I should
determine at once, or risk the safety of the family who protected me. I
endeavoured to find a middle course, and suggested the impossibility of
leaving the country while even a vague report confirmed the belief that
some at least of its people were prepared to vindicate her liberty, or
die nobly in its assertion. They acquiesced, and the vessel was allowed
to sail. I insisted, however, that after nightfall I should leave the
house and take up my quarters in some obscure lodging house. Meantime it
was arranged that if the next mail confirmed the accounts from
Tipperary, I should be provided with a horse and car, and be able to
leave Cork as I entered it. When night came, the lady of the house
sternly and resolutely opposed my leaving it. She would not consent to
free herself from a risk she took so much honest pleasure in
encountering. Another day and night left us in the same uncertainty. The
reports were still more unsatisfactory and contradictory. But that there
should be reports at all, satisfied my mind, and I finally prepared to
start for Tipperary on the morning of the 29th of September.

Information at length reached me that the party under O'Mahony were
dispersed and himself fled. The difficulty of my position, with respect
to my protectors, left me no alternative. Any chance that presented
itself should be embraced. The Bristol boat was in the river, panting to
escape her anchorage; and following the horse, which was to bear me to
Tipperary, to the quay, I walked on board the _Juverna_, just as she was
loosing her cables. My baggage, made up in a small box, was put on board
as a parcel addressed to a young friend of mine in London. The few
moments that intervened were fraught with most intense suspense. I stood
on the fore deck among cattle, covered with rags and dirt, my eyes fixed
on two detectives who stood at the cabin entrance, scrutinising narrowly
the figure and features of every cabin passenger. The bell rang, the
detectives stepped on shore, one of my friends who watched my movements
from a distance, waved a kind adieu, the _Juverna_ slipped her cables,
and by one bound was out in the river. The first motion of her paddles
sounded to me like the assurance of fate, and I looked on the curling
foam with measureless exultation. The _Juverna_ made a momentary halt at
Passage, and then glanced gaily through Cove harbour out into the sea.
As she cleared the road I turned back to look for the last time upon my
fatherland. Her prospects, her promise, her strength, her hopes, her
failure and her fall rushed in burning memory through my brain. I
endeavoured to embody in the following verses the feelings that agitated
and almost paralysed my every faculty of body and mind. I wrote them on
a piece of paper that had been wrapped round some cheese:--

    Away, away, the good ship swings;
      One heave, one bound, and off she's dashing,
    Expanding wide her snowy wings,
      The white foam round her paddles flashing.
    Away, away, the land recedes,
      Far into dim and dreary distance,
    As gallantly our packet speeds.
      Unconscious of the gale's resistance.
    Away, away, how oft before,
      With paling cheek and aching stomach,
    I've trembled at the billow's roar.
      And crouched me in my narrow hammock.
    But now, I bless the wildest waves
    That bear me from a land of slaves.

    Away, away, yon crimson cloud,
      Which, mounting the blue vault of Heaven,
    Soars calmly o'er the murky shroud
      That palls the close of boisterous even,
    Is scarcely fairer than the form,
      The light, the grace, from stem to stern--a
    Fairy riding on the storm--
      Of the fleet, trusty, dight _Juverna_,
    Away, away, one last look more:
      One blessing on the naked land--
    Though the too glorious dream be o'er--
      One blessing for her truthful hand,
    Her proud old faith, though darkly grown,
    Still lingering by each cold hearth-stone.

    Away, away; poor fool of fate,
      Couldst thou but dream this mournful end,
    This midnight of a hope so great,
      Where shame and sorrow darkly blend--
    Couldst thou divine that thus bedecked,
      With rags and dirt, thine eyes downturned:
    Thou'dst flee, thy whole life's labour wrecked.
      Thy very heart within thee burned.
    --Away, away, in all the past,
      There's not an act I would recall,
    I bow me to the o'erwhelming blast,
      But 'tis the heart alone can fall,
    And mine may once again defy.
    The fate that mocks it scoffingly.

    Away, away, if o'er the sea,
      My voice could reach the prison grate.
    Where daylight creeping gloomily,
      Comes to deride the captives' fate;
    Could I but prove by word or act,
      How firm my heart and purpose still,
    Their life's worst pang to counteract,
      Before their proud young hearts were still--
    To live but that the land they loved
      Should yet assert its native right,
    That the immortal faith they proved,
      Should yet be robed in victory's light,
    And, oh, to feel such promise high,
    Were last to light their dying eye.

If apology were to be offered for the change of measure of the above,
and its somewhat conflicting sentiments, it would be found in the tumult
of passions, excitement, fear, hope, rage, disappointment and regret
with which, standing among cattle on the deck, and disguised in meanest
rags, I looked upon my country's shores for, it may be the last time,
and thought of her hopes, her misery and fall. Both faults may be
amended here, but I cannot help regarding it as irreligious toward
thoughts suggested by the circumstances then around me to remodel even
the structure into which they spontaneously shaped themselves.

[Illustration: Aheny Hill, showing the Constabulary Barrack destroyed by
the Insurgents. 1848]

Night soon fell drearily upon the water. I engaged a berth from one of
the sailors, and before half an hour, lost all consciousness of country
and friends, of wind and tide, and hope, and shame, and peril, in
tranquil repose. On ascending next morning, the shores of England were
in view, and we sailed up the channel to the mouth of the Avon under a
calm and mellow sky. I had some breakfast with one of the cowherds. We
were delayed several hours waiting for the tide, which were spent for
the most part in making difficult evolutions; and exhibiting to the
cabin passengers the peculiar qualities of the _Juverna_. Night had
fallen before we reached Bristol, and I slipped away from the boat, amid
the confusion and bustle which checked the progress of the gay and rich,
around whose footsteps avarice had gathered an eager and jostling crowd.
Rude contact with, and unsavoury odours from, the unclean multitude
shocked their nervous sensibility, as they made their way to their
hotels amidst obtrusive obsequiousness, while the lone outlaw's pathway
lay free through the open street and uncontaminated air. But a wretched
exterior has its disadvantages also. I dared not present myself at a
hotel, and many of the humbler hostelries refused me admittance,
believing, no doubt, either that the seeds of pestilence were in my
rags, or not a copper in my pocket. Indeed, to no brain but that of a
very imaginative genius would the possibility of such a superfluity as
a pocket suggest itself. All the beds were "full." At last I thought me
of an expedient. I called for a glass of ale, for which payment in
advance was duly demanded. I handed a sovereign, which at once emptied a
bed, provided I slept in a room with another person which I refused,
feeling that I had acquired a footing. I had something to eat, and
finally found that there was a vacant room.

The next day was Sunday. No trains travelled to London except third
class. This was rather unlucky, for I was aware that certain straitened
gentlemen were often obliged, by stress of circumstances--the pressure
of business which brooked not a moment's delay--reluctantly to avail
themselves of this mode of conveyance. I felt, too, that the loyalty of
these slender aristocrats, was on a par with the unhappy incidents which
compelled them to consort with vulgar people, that is to say, so
constrained, that however much against the impulses of their generous
natures, they could not omit any opportunity of manifesting the
sentiment in its full intensity, I selected my company on this occasion,
being only anxious to exclude the "_arbiters elegantiarum_," Of my
"_compagnons de voyage_," some were in gin, some in fumes and some in
glee, and the journey passed off without an incident.

On arriving at the Paddington terminus, an unlooked-for difficulty
presented itself. My costume attracted universal attention. It was, in
fact, _outre_ even in comparison with the most outlandish; for every
article had been carefully selected for its singularity. My "caubeen"
especially excited the risibility of the merry boys who thronged the
streets. I was soon followed by an uproarious crowd of most
incorrigible young rascals, who made lunges at my unfortunate head-gear.
They peered at me round lamp-posts, and occasionally, "Teigue," and
"Phelim," pronounced in a broad English accent, grated on my ear.
Although not indisposed to be merry, I grasped one of my tormentors and
handed him over to a policeman. The sentinel of city morals dismissed
him with a harsh rebuke, and threatened to "haul up" whoever gave me
further annoyance. We were then near Oxford street. I told him I wanted
to go to Tottenham Court road; but after making several fruitless
attempts to pronounce the name, his own fertile genius had to supply my
deficiency. He walked with me until the last unruly boy had disappeared,
and then he sent me on my way rejoicing, after having spent some minutes
in teaching me to articulate distinctly "Tottenham Court Road." It was
already nightfall. I felt as if all danger were passed. I could not
anticipate the check I was about to receive.

I knew a man named Parker, who resided in Museum Street. I thought his
house that to which I could easiest find access without exciting notice.
I made my way to it unobserved, rapped, and to my great relief the door
was opened by the man himself. He did not recognise me for some time,
but as soon as he did, he fell into a paroxysm half hysterical, half
frantic. I had completed his ruin, he exclaimed, and his unhappy family
would have to curse me as the cause of his destruction. He was ready to
sink on the floor in sheer terror, and with difficulty could he utter a
request that I should instantly leave his house. This was a command,
however harsh and heartless, which I dared not resist, for I was forced
to admit to myself that under his terrified exterior might lurk a
sentiment baser than fear.

I left the place in utter dismay. I could not venture into a house such
as I had lodged in at Bristol, the night before, because my person was
well known in London, and because those places are frequented by
characters of all sorts. I could not venture, in my then guise, to the
house of my young friend to whom I had addressed the parcel, because my
appearance there would inevitably attract the notice of the policeman. I
dare not, of course, venture to a respectable hotel. Thus perplexed, I
bethought of a woman with whom I used formerly to lodge, and I repaired
to her rooms (she had herself become a lodger). I met her on the stairs,
where she nearly fainted. She hurried me into the street, and there told
me that a person who lived in the house was actually watching to betray
me. She suggested the house of an Irishwoman who lived in a court hard
by. I had no alternative. The poor woman received me with tears. Such
was her emotion that I could not hesitate to trust her with my life: Her
son and daughter-in-law, who spent the day with her, were about
returning home. They lived in the suburbs, at the Surrey side. They
proposed to take me to their cottage, and I readily consented. We got a
coach and drove home. The kindliest attentions were lavished on me by
these people. As soon as I arrived, I shaved and cleansed myself; no
small task, considering that I had on a fortnight's beard, and had
rubbed my face over with soot and grease.

I had a shirt and clothes from my host, with whom, in my new trim, I
sat down to a comfortable supper. Early next morning he informed my
friend of my arrival, and I was at once surrounded by several who would
risk their lives for my safety. I had by this time begun to regard many
singular escapes of mine as preordained by Providence, and I ceased to
feel much concern in my fate. I cherished a presentiment of safety until
it grew into a conviction, and acting on its assurance, I gave way to an
unconcern that was quite inexplicable to those around me. But one
feeling of fear lingered with me: it was lest Parker should add treason
to cowardice, which certain ominous expressions that were said to fall
from him, confirmed. I otherwise felt so secure, and so thankful to my
entertainers, that I would gratify their wishes to remain a day or two
longer with them; but the tide answered so well--the whole journey to
Boulogne being by night, that I determined to avail myself of the
opportunity. I donned my clerical costume, got me a sleek wig, folded a
stole round my breviary, and with Christian patience awaited the hour of
departure. I was to be accompanied to Paris by my young friend, who
spoke the French language perfectly, and was well acquainted with the
etiquette of the journey. We entered the express train at London Bridge
at half-past eight. When it was just starting, my host, who had
accompanied us, clung to the panel of the door, and warned me, with
provoking warmth, to "write, write, as soon as I was safe." As the train
drove off and his boisterous adieus died on my ear, I lost the last
feeling of anxiety on my own account. The carriage was full--a German
with a toothache--two gossiping old bachelors--a jolly English resident
of the sunny south--my friend and myself occupied the six seats. However
fluttered may be the hearts of the passengers, whatever may be the
pressure of guilt, or fear, or remorse upon their souls, the heart of
the mighty engine, on its fiery course, throbs only with one passion,
namely how to outspeed the flight of time. Our fellow-travellers
conversed upon all subjects, and wished for my opinion upon each; but I
was so reserved and pious, and my friend so ready and witty, and
exuberant in his gaiety, that my obstinate silence was pardoned or
forgotten. We were able to make our way on board Her Majesty's mail
packet by the light of a clouded moon, then fast waning. I did not
trouble myself to learn the name of the boat, but she appeared endued
with more than the speed of fire. She flew over her allotted trip in one
hour and three-quarters, and about two o'clock I set my foot on the free
soil of the young Republic.

I had longed for such an event with an intensity of feeling not to be
described; nay, I had often enjoyed anticipated exultation from
indulging in a vague dream of its bare possibility, which absorbed all
the gloom and horror of my situation. Yet when I stepped securely on
what, to me, was hallowed ground, an adequate appreciation of the
circumstance was far from realised in my feelings. New sights and sounds
began to share my thoughts and engross my comprehension. In a moment the
past vanished, with all its disquietude and alarm; and I entered on the
new scene with a taste akin to the appetite of a convalescent. If I felt
any deep emotion, it was only when my mind recurred to the fate of my
comrades, or the feelings of joy with which my family would learn the
tidings of my safety. We left our baggage at the Custom house--mine
consisted of a pair of boots stowed away in a rather capacious
valise--handed the keys, in due form, to the commissionaire of police,
and directed them to be sent after us to our hotel. A commissionaire, so
they call themselves, appeared in the morning with the keys, which he
handed us bowing, adding that all was right.

There was a fete at Boulogne. Nothing was to be seen but glittering
bayonets, and nothing to be heard but the harsh monotonous sound of the
drum. Flags floated in the breeze, and cheers echoed from the distant
hills, and everything proclaimed the festivity of liberty. It was a
grand sight, and yet a sad one for me. I could not help contrasting with
the scene before me the fate of my own unfortunate country. At ten
o'clock we were on our way to Paris.

Such was the anxiety with which I gazed on the glad face of that sunny
land during the entire of the journey that I could at this moment
recognise every object that attracted my attention. But the scope of
this narrative, now drawing rapidly to a close, does not embrace a
description of France or Paris. Many pens have plied the task, and were
mine more adequate than any, it were unfit to interweave so bright a
theme with the gloomy details of this mournful history.

There remains to be told but one incident. On our arrival at the Paris
terminus, we got into an English omnibus which brought us to an English
hotel--the Hotel de Louvre in the Rue St. Thomas. There we dined
together, some dozen or so of the passengers. After dinner my friend
and I had champagne. While discussing its merits the conversation turned
on Ireland. Opinions, of course, varied. Mine, it need scarcely be
added, to an Englishman's ear sounded bloodily, and I urged them with
the vehemence of baffled hope. An old English gentleman of that quiet
school which affects liberality and moderation, but entertains deepest
animosity, deprecated the violence of my language and sentiments, and
expressed his painful astonishment at hearing such opinions from the
mouth of a clergyman; "They would not be unbecoming," added he, with
great bitterness of tone, "in that sanguinary brigand, Doheny."
Involuntarily and simultaneously my friend and myself burst into an
immoderate fit of laughter, The gentleman could not at all comprehend
our mirth. He had, he thought, delivered himself of very sound and very
gentlemanly philosophy, and he was really shocked to find it had made an
impression so different from what he had expected. He had travelled
much, he said, and met men of many lands, of whom Irishmen were ever the
most polite and best bred gentlemen; a fact which rendered our laughing
in his face rather inexplicable. The conversation was again resumed and
again waxed warm. I expressed my opinion of English paupers in Ireland,
and said they ought to be transported in a convict ship back to
Liverpool, in the same fashion as Irish paupers of a different class are
transmitted to Dublin by the Liverpool guardians. To this he replied by
saying that there would be no peace in Ireland until the Mitchels and
Dohenys were hanged, a fate which the latter was hastening to with
irresistible impetus. At this self-satisfied prophecy we laughed louder
than before, whereupon he waxed wrathful, and repeating his experience
of the world in general, and of Irishmen in particular, demanded an
explanation of the laugh. I said, "That is a straightforward question,
and demands a direct answer. It shall be given, although you have
refused to answer, as all Englishmen of your class invariably do, to
several direct questions which I have put to you. I laughed because I am
that same sanguinary Doheny": and pulling off my wig, I added, "Me
_voila_ at your service." The sudden appearance of him who answered the
incantations of the weird sisters could not produce a greater panic.
Chairs tumbled in every direction, and their occupiers fled the room,
leaving myself and my friend ample space to enjoy the joke and the
champagne in undisturbed quiet.

I have nothing further to relate in connection with myself. Paris
appeared to me clothed with a grandeur, a glory, and a beauty,
infinitely surpassing every description of them I had ever read or
heard. Standing in any commanding spot surrounded by the monuments of
her splendour and magnificence, upon each of which the genius of the
land shed its immortal lustre, one feels coerced to the conviction that
the high command and abiding destiny of France must be equally
imperishable. But these considerations belong not to my story, and I
renounce the idea of commemorating the sensations of gratified pride
which that gorgeous capital awakened in my bosom. Her architecture and
her art, her memorials of glory, and the triumphs of her progress,
require to be scanned by the eye and portrayed by the ability of
artistic genius. I must content myself with preserving a delighted
recollection of the French metropolis which no scene or circumstance,
possible in life can ever efface. The companion of all my hazards in
Ireland, whom I again joined in Paris, more than shared my enthusiasm.
He spent all his days wandering among the galleries of the Louvre or the
statues of Versailles, forgetting in the sublime presence of their
unmatched _chefs d'ouvres_ all the shame and perils of the past. I hope
he may be induced to give the result of his long examinations and fond
reveries to the public.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 12: "Alice and Uua."]

[Footnote 13: This may be a harsh and unjust opinion; if so, no one
could regret it more than myself. In any case I wish to disclaim the
idea of making a charge against the body of the Roman Catholic clergy,
to some of whose members it applies. I yet fully believe that the great
majority of the priesthood would willingly die with the rest of their
countrymen in struggling for the liberty of their common home. Even of
those who acted against us with such deadly success, I am sure some were
influenced by pure and honourable motives: there were others, however,
whose conduct the noblest motives would fail to justify, or even
extenuate.]

[Footnote 14: I hope my friend "Desmond" (a true poet and genuine
Irishman, whom God long preserve) will allow me to borrow his "graceful
spirit people" to elevate to poetical dignity the otherwise unattractive
and straggling waters of Lough Lua. It is near the lone and lovely
passes of Ceimeneagh, which his genius has invested with graceful
immortality, and his

      "Children of the earth and sea."

may be sometimes tempted to lave therein.

Lough Lua loses in the comparison suggested by the sublime scenery
around it, of which the "green little island," and the pass are
immeasurably the greatest. I saw it in no happy frame of mind, as I
dragged my weary limbs along the rugged slopes of Shehigh. The only real
feature of interest I could discover, was the solitary swan above
alluded to, to which an intellect less fanciful than that of my friend
could not refuse a claim to be recognised as the genius loci, or spirit
of the spot.]

[Footnote 15: Mr. Daniel MacCarthy]




CONCLUSION


A word remains to be said in reference to the fate of those who were the
special objects of the Government's attention. Of the six for whom a
reward was offered, four escaped, namely, Mr. Dillon, Mr. O'Gorman, Mr.
O'Mahony and myself. Mr. Dillon was the first who left Ireland. Late in
August he sailed from Galway, and landed at New York after a voyage of
seven weeks. In the same vessel sailed P.J. Smyth, who was despatched
from Cashel to Dublin with directions from Mr. O'Brien. Richard
O'Gorman, accompanied by John O'Donnell and Daniel Doyle, sailed from
the mouth of the Shannon on board a vessel bound for Constantinople.
After landing in the Turkish capital, they were obliged to lie concealed
until able to procure passports for Algiers. Many foolish stories have
been circulated in reference to Mr. O'Gorman's adventures and disguises
in Ireland. Not one of them has the least truth in it. He or his
companions never assumed any disguise, and though their adventures were
more perilous, they were not so romantic as those that have been
related. A more detailed account of their wanderings would no doubt be
as interesting to my readers as it would be agreeable to myself. But
both the time and the limits I have proposed to myself for this
publication exclude it here. I could not, without too long a delay,
acquire that minute and accurate knowledge of facts and dates, which
would be indispensable to such a history.

But of succeeding events in Ireland, and the men who controlled them,
it is imperative to speak more in detail. John O'Mahony was their chief,
and John Savage his principal counsellor and comrade. The former,
although not compromised by any act previous to the arrest of Mr.
O'Brien, evaded the vigilance of the detectives, and continued moving
about from place to place, being generally guarded while he slept by a
large number of faithful followers. No man was ever followed with truer
devotion or served with more unwavering fidelity. He might have
continued in the same district with perfect safety up to the present
hour. But every moment of his time was engrossed by the endeavour to
rouse the country to some becoming effort. John Savage, who had come to
Carrick on a visit to a relation, partook of his enthusiasm and shared
his toil. They spent many anxious nights in counsel together when it was
supposed all spirit had left the country. The first ostensible object
that brought the people together under their immediate guidance and
control was the reaping of a field of wheat belonging to O'Mahony. A
vast crowd amounting to several hundred stalwart men assembled. They had
scarcely entered on their labour when the approach of a troop of horse
was announced. O'Mahony and Savage were compelled to retire. The
military cavalcade entered the field, and rode rudely among the men and
ripe corn. Still the reapers desisted not. They proceeded with their
labours sedulously and silently. But there was no pretext for arresting
any of the men, and no pretext afforded for further outrage, and the
business of the day went on without further outrage from the soldiers.
This occurred on the 22nd of August. Some days later, sullen crowds were
seen ascending Aheny Hill, about five miles to the north of
Carrick-on-Suir. By what mysterious agency they were directed none could
tell. About a similar distance from the town, in the opposite direction,
near the village of Portlaw, another camp was formed with equal rapidity
and mystery. With these men John Savage took his station. He was
entirely unknown to the people; and owed his influence over them to his
singular resolution. The understanding was that these two bodies, and a
third consisting of an equal number of men which was promised from
Kilkenny, should march simultaneously on the town of Carrick and the
fort at Besborough where five hundred men were encamped. He who
undertook to lead the Kilkenny men went on the execution of his mission,
leaving O'Mahony at one side, and Savage on the other, to contend with
the impetuosity of their respective followers who demanded with violence
to be led on. As much perhaps from the precariousness of their situation
as from a reckless daring, they could not brook the least delay. Their
leaders, on the other hand, urged the necessity of steadiness and
prudence. It was too late for such policy. The time between the first
step in revolution and action is the most trying to the courage and
faith of undisciplined men. In this instance it produced fatal results.
The weakness of the timid increased, and the courage of the boldest was
quelled. Suspicion was aroused, and desertion was the inevitable
consequence. O'Mahony found it impossible to withstand the clamorous
urgency of the men, and all his preparations were necessarily of a
hasty and imperfect character. The arrival of the party from Kilkenny
was the utmost limit of inaction that would be endured; and the leaders
saw with regret that they had yielded too soon to the demands of those
who precipitated the rising. The true guarantee of success would consist
in perfect preparation under cover of secrecy, so as that the assembling
could be followed by an immediate blow.

Scouring parties from each rendezvous, proceeded through the country in
search of arms. Provisions were liberally supplied by the neighbouring
farmers, and numbers were hourly arriving from distant parts of the
country. But those who were engaged in the search for arms attacked
police barracks and private houses. In general, these enterprises were
rash, ill-advised and ill-arranged. In some instances they were
successful, and in some they were repulsed with loss of life, while the
police were able to effect a safe retreat. At the Tipperary side, two
men were killed in the attack on the Glenbour barracks; and at the
Waterford side, one man was shot at Portlaw in the assault on the
police-barrack, and two in the attack on the Reverend Mr. Hill's house.
These repulses checked the ardour of the boldest, and gave rise to
disunion and distrust. Meantime, the promised reinforcements from
Kilkenny failed to redeem the pledge that was given in their name. A
whole day and night passed, and no tidings of them arrived. Several of
those who were loudest and most urgent left the camp. A very large
force, however, remained; but after delaying two days without hearing of
the Kilkenny men, they determined to disperse. The party at Portlaw
adopted the same resolution, and O'Mahony and Savage had to shift for
themselves. A reward was offered for O'Mahony, but he eluded his
pursuers, and in a few days was beyond their reach. He embarked at
Bonmahon in the county of Waterford and crossed to Wales, where he was
concealed for some time until he found an opportunity of escaping to
France. Savage, whose person was not much known, made his way to Dublin,
whence he sailed for America direct.

The Kilkenny men arrived at Aheny on the morning after those under
O'Mahony had dispersed and finding the place deserted, they immediately
returned. This accident once more baffled all hope of a struggle. From
beginning to end, some mischance marred every propitious circumstance
that presented itself. It seemed as if the failure had been predestined.
But to yield to such a fate, to abjure the great and true faith which
the attempt of the last unhappy year quickened in the hearts of all men,
would be distrust of God's mercy and justice. In the struggle that
preceded the outbreak a great victory was won. The most formidable power
that ever fettered the consciences of men was struck to the earth.
Truth, long lost sight of, was again restored as one of the great
agencies of national deliverance and national elevation. The question
between England and Ireland assumed its real character; and although
huxtering politicians have since endeavoured to set up the honour of the
island for sale, they have only been able to dispose of their own
characters. The people have not debased themselves. In the lying homage
to the Queen of England they took no part. They have preserved through
the severest trials the old immortal yearning of their race, and the
arms they had provided themselves with in '48 they have guarded
religiously, in the hope of using them on some day of brighter auspices
and loftier destiny.

[Illustration: John Savage (1848)]




APPENDICES


I

THOMAS D'ARCY M'GEE'S NARRATIVE OF 1848

Early on Saturday the 22nd of July I left my pleasant home in
Cullenswood, near Dublin, to which I was never to return. On reaching
the city I found a telegraphic despatch from London had been just
published, announcing the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, and that
the "extraordinary powers" to be conferred on the Lord Lieutenant would
be forwarded to Dublin on the following Monday. It was contended on all
hands that the hour for action or submission or flight for the
Confederates was now come. Of "The Council of Five,"[16] there were then
in Dublin but three members. One is now in Van Diemen's Land; the others
were Mr. Dillon and myself. We had a hasty meeting in the old Council
Rooms of the Irish Confederation. They decided to proceed that evening
to Enniscorthy to advise with Smith O'Brien, and, as I understood, to
proceed with him to the district between the Suir and the Shannon, and
to operate from that basis according to circumstances and their own best
judgment.

A gentleman had arrived in Dublin that morning with a proposition which
decided my movements and led me into some singular situations.

He was a professional man, by birth an Irishman who had resided a long
time in Scotland. He had one only son, two rifles, and £120 in money,
which he brought as his offering to the country. He informed us that
several hundred Irishmen in Scotland had been all the year preparing for
this event, that they had a good share of arms and ammunition, and that
if any plan could be devised to bring them into Ireland, they could be
relied on for courage and endurance. I do not mention this gentleman's
name, because I do not know but he is still under the laws of England.

We perceived, on consultation, that if it were possible to land 400 or
500 staunch men in the north-west--say, at Sligo or Killala--where the
Government were completely off their guard (all their anxieties being
centred on the south), an important movement might follow in Sligo,
Leitrim, Roscommon and Mayo. It would be like hitting the enemy in the
back of the head. It would necessarily draw off some of the forces from
Munster, through the valley of the Upper Shannon, which, with its
continuous chain of lake, bog and mountain frontier, would be difficult
ground for the movements of a regular army.

It was necessary, as our informant said, that "someone with a name"
should go over and concert with the Irishmen in Scotland the mode and
time of action, and I was the only person at hand willing for that
service. For my encouragement, Meagher assured me I would be "as famous
as Paul Jones" if I got the men out of the Clyde, and Mr. Dillon
suggested as a landing-place "the old ground, Killala."

That afternoon I left Dublin, and on Tuesday morning I was in Scotland.

I cannot give the exact particulars of my movements while there. All who
were in my confidence are still in Scotland, with the exception of Mr.
Peter M'Cabe of Glasgow, now in the United States. I will only say that
I visited and consulted our friends in four of the principal
towns--Edinburgh included. I attended meetings of the clubs and in each
instance instituted committees. I obtained in a few days a list of
nearly 400 men, pretty well equipped, ready for the risk. A
sub-committee surveyed the Broomielaw and the Clyde, and although their
report was unfavourable to the attempt of getting out in one body, a
gentleman, now in America, gained over the crew and officers of an Irish
steamer to take us as passengers from Greenock where the tides in a few
days would answer for departure about ten o'clock at night. The arms
were to be previously shipped as merchandise or luggage, and the
destination was to be Sligo.

These arrangements occupied from Tuesday till Friday of the last week of
July. In the meanwhile, the London Journals arrived with news that
O'Brien and his friends had been received with open arms in the south,
and great excitement and suspicion of strangers arose in Scotland. In
the Reading Room at Paisley I read myself in _The Hue and Cry_. One
paper stated I was in Waterford, another said I was "revelling among the
clubs in the Co. Dublin." The _Times_ did me the honour to couple me
with Meagher, calling us "the two most dangerous men now abroad." No one
suspected my real locality.

On Friday I was in Edinburgh intending to return to Glasgow, when
Mr. ----, accompanied by a friend suddenly joined me. I saw they were a
good deal agitated. They told me a Scotch mechanic who had been formerly
in Dublin had seen me in the streets of Glasgow opposite Wellington
statue, and that the news was "all round town." They added that the
magistrates were in secret sitting, and as the writ of Habeas Corpus is
unknown to the law of Scotland, I would be certainly arrested and
summarily imprisoned if I returned. They were instructed to advise me to
go to Ireland through the north of England, to prepare our friends in
and about Sligo, and that they would complete the project which they had
begun, and which was now in promising forwardness. I complied and Mr.
---- handed me a purse, as a personal gift from the Committee. This
purse contained twelve or thirteen sovereigns, the only public money I
received in this enterprise. After purposely driving to the West of
Scotland depot [railway terminus] we returned to the North British, and
my friends saw me off a station or two on the way to Newcastle-on-Tyne.
I slept that night in Newcastle.

Between Newcastle and Carlisle the next day (Saturday) I had for a
fellow passenger the Rev. Thresham Gregg[17] who was on a lecturing
excursion against the Pope in the north of England. I had been
introduced to him a year or two before and supposed he knew me. He
certainly looked very hard at me from under his travelling-cap, with his
half-shut cunning eyes. I had in my hand "Bradshaw's Railway Guide,"
which he asked to see. At the way stations he kept constantly inquiring
the distance to Carlisle, and I sorely suspected he meant to "peach." He
did not, however, though I still think he must have known me.

In Carlisle I met at dinner two Dublin priests (one from Westland Row
chapel). They were bound on a pleasure-trip for Loch Katrine and the
Trossachs. They informed me that I was "proclaimed," and seemed
surprised at my returning. We parted very cordially and that night I
went to Whitehaven where I had to wait over Sunday for the Belfast
steamer.

In Whitehaven (by accident) I met with Mr. James Leach, the well-known
Chartist, with whom I had some conversation unnecessary here to be
repeated.

On Tuesday morning I arrived in Belfast. Two policemen entered the cabin
as I was leaving it, and having been at the meeting which occasioned the
Hercules Street riot,[18] I thought they would recognise me. They did
not, however, and at 8 o'clock (after leaving a note for a dear and
trusted friend of Mr. Duffy's, to mark my whereabouts) I was safely
embarked on the Ulster railway for Armagh. At Aughnacloy a detective
gave me a light, and before I went to bed (in Enniskillen) had read the
proclamations against the leaders of the Southern movement, on the gates
of the Barrack. The next morning I reached Sligo by the Leitrim road.

This was Wednesday morning, August 2nd.

At the Hibernia Hotel, where I stopped as Mr. Kelly (my travelling
baptism), I saw for the first time in ten days the Irish papers. The
Dublin _Freeman_ and _Saunder's News Letter_ were on the table. I read
the list of the places where, and the clergymen by whom, the Southern
movement had been "denounced," on Sunday, July 23rd and Sunday, July
30th. The same papers contained Lord Clarendon's wily letter to
Archbishop Murray, offering to alter the statutes of the new colleges
and to remodel the Bequests Bill so as to content the Catholic clergy,
and artfully complimenting Pius IX. The game of the Government was
clear--it was to separate the clergy from the people in the coming
struggle.

The evening of my arrival in Sligo, I conferred with a few friends. The
place chosen was "a shell house" in the demesne of Hazelwood on the
shores of Lough Gill. Of those[D] who formed that conference one at
least, Mr. William M'Garahan, is now in America. We ascertained the
garrison of Sligo to be but ninety men--the barrack to be surrounded by
a common eight-foot wall, and the local authorities to be completely
lulled to sleep. The circumstances were as favourable as could be
expected.

But there never had been in Sligo or Leitrim any local Confederate or
even "Repeal" organisation. The only local societies were secret--Molly
Maguires and Ribbonmen. It was necessary to get into communication with
them and late the next night Dr. ----, a Confederate, introduced me to
one of their leaders, on a road which crosses a hill to the south of the
town. This gentleman I found wary, resolute, and intelligent. He said:
"I have no doubt of what you say, but I must have certain facts to lay
before our district chiefs. At present we don't know what to believe.
One day we hear one thing--another, another. Bring us by this day week
assurances that the South is going to rise or has risen, and we will
raise two thousand before the week is out." I agreed to do so and he in
the meantime went to prepare his friends.

I returned to my confidants of the first conference and "reported
progress." It was rather difficult to find a trusty messenger. I
volunteered to go myself, but they would not hear of it. At last a man
who could be depended on was obtained, and, armed with certain passwords
(unintelligible except to those for whom they were intended) he left to
go through Roscommon and Westmeath into Tipperary by Borrisokane and
Nenagh.

Simultaneously with this, agents went abroad in the country, and I, by
the advice of the local leaders, went to lodge under Benbulben in the
character of a Dublin student in search of health and exercise during
the summer vacation. Within a week we expected to be openly arrayed
against the authorities, and no man that I saw shrank from the prospect.

From my lodgings under Benbulben I made a visit to Bundoran to meet some
friends from Donegal who were anxious to consult me as to the state of
the county. By an odd chance I lodged in the same house with the
stipendiary magistrate, Sir Thomas Blake, and had to go through his
bedroom to my own. We met frequently but he was quite unsuspicious. He
has, I find since, been dismissed from his office, after an ineffectual
search for me through the county, a month from the time we had lived
under the same roof.

While our messenger had gone south there arrived one from our friends in
Scotland. Him I sent back the same night to expedite affairs there. In
the meanwhile, on such maps as we had, my friends and I studied the
roads and the formation of the country. There is in this part of Ireland
a plateau of about twenty-five miles square of broken or mountainous
ground. Of this district Ballinamore in Leitrim might be considered the
centre; there are but three main roads leading through it--the Boyle
road, the Red Lion road, and the Ballysodare road--which could all be
easily rendered impassable, passing as they do over rapid streams,
through narrow defiles or across extensive marshes. There is no great
military depot within the district--Enniskillen, Athlone, and even
Castlebar being within the spurs of the mountains. Sligo, its chief town
was, as we saw, poorly garrisoned, and yet as a seaport of the second
class it contained many things of the greatest use in a military
movement--as lead, arms, canvas, tools, money, ships' stores,
breadstuffs, types for proclamations and even some small cannon. From
three to five thousand men it was calculated, could be well-equipped and
could maintain themselves for three months within this district, with
tolerable prudence and exertion. Before the time expired we hoped to
receive help and officers from abroad, and afterwards to be able to
undertake greater things.

We could not but remember that this was the district chosen by Owen
O'Neill after his arrival from Spain in 1645 and that it was here he
"nursed up" by slow degrees the army which fought at Benburb, and which
in Napoleon's opinion, but for the premature death of Owen, would have
checkmated Cromwell. The ground once chosen by a great general for its
natural capabilities may safely be chosen again, and usually is, as in
Hungary for instance. The very posts and battlefields held and fought by
Bem and Dembinski were the same whereon Huniad and Corvinus, four and
five hundred years ago, fought against the Turks and Bosmens. Thus we
had the sanction of a great example and the stimulus of an inspiriting
tradition to point to for the choice of the ground.

We had not long to wait for news from the South--it came of itself. On
Saturday the 5th of August Mr. O'Brien was arrested in Thurles. His
companions, it was said, were fled hither and thither; but, at all
events, his arrest had proved that, at that time, the South would not
rise in arms against the Government.

This was the interpretation universally put upon it in the north-west.
It was in vain I said, "There are other men as brave and as good who are
still free and from whom we will hear better news." Those to whom I
spoke were incredulous. Still I must do the people of the county the
justice to say that in a meeting of their district-leaders at ---- it
was discussed for two successive nights with great animation whether or
not the district should rise even then. The parties for and against a
rising were nearly balanced, but the latter prevailed on the argument
that unless it was general it would be fruitless.

For ten dismal days I remained in this neighbourhood, hoping against
hope and endeavouring to make others do the same. The proposals I then
made, the result of desperation, I will not repeat, for now, even to
myself, I confess they look wild and extravagant. But I felt the whole
futurity of shame that awaited us for abandoning the country without a
blow. It was well advanced in August before I could persuade myself that
no hope remained. The Treasurer of our Scotch Committee came to Ireland
expressly to urge me to consult my own safety in flight, in which he was
joined by the whole of my local associates. Successively arrived the
news of Meagher, Leyne and MacManus being taken. Then indeed I knew "all
was up." Then, indeed, I felt the force of what I had long before
prophesied--"What if we fail?" I resolved not to be taken if I could
help it, and acted accordingly. After some personal adventures in
Donegal and Derry (with which I will not trouble the reader) I saw the
last of the Irish shore early in September, and on the 10th of October
reached Philadelphia.

I close here with this reflection: Had I been transported or hanged, I
have no doubt full justice would be done me, because it would be
nobody's interest to do me injustice. Had I kept silent, I might have
lived an easy, prudent, reputable sort of life enough. But I established
a journal on reaching America, and whereas my spine is not made of
whalebone nor my conscience of indiarubber, I spoke the truth as I knew
it in all things freely--thereby offending divers parties. This, I
believe, could not be helped. After nearly a year of silence[19] I have
at last (in self-defence) written this narrative, of which I assure the
readers they never would have heard a word from me, but that
misrepresentations not to be borne demanded its publicity. Those who
from want of information misrepresented me hitherto can do so no more;
and those who, knowing these facts, yet wilfully maligned me, I have now
deprived of the power to do me further injury. Truth is powerful, and
this is truth.


II

THE PROCLAMATION OF DOHENY AND HIS COLLEAGUES

By the Lord Lieutenant General and General-Governor of Ireland

A PROCLAMATION

CLARENDON--

Whereas we have received information that THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER, JOHN
B. DILLON and MICHAEL DOHENY have been guilty of treasonable practices,
now we the Lord Lieutenant being determined to bring the said THOMAS
FRANCIS MEAGHER, JOHN B. DILLON and MICHAEL DOHENY to justice, do hereby
offer a reward of

    THREE HUNDRED POUNDS

to any person or persons who shall secure and deliver up to safe custody
the person of any one of them, the said THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER, JOHN B.
DILLON and MICHAEL DOHENY.

And we do hereby strictly charge and command all justices of the peace,
mayors, sheriffs, bailiffs, constables and all other of her Majesty's
loyal subjects to use their utmost-diligence in apprehending the said
THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER, JOHN B. DILLON and MICHAEL DOHENY.

Given at her Majesty's Castle of Dublin, this 28th day of July, 1848.

      By his Excellency's Command,

      T.N. REDINGTON.


III

"THE HUE AND CRY"

The official description of himself read by Thomas Darcy M'Gee was more
accurate and less intentionally insulting than the official descriptions
of most of his colleagues compiled in Dublin Castle and published in the
_Hue and Cry_ of July 27th, 1848. Probably no other official document
issued to the public in the last hundred years by Dublin Castle has
equalled this stupid malignity. "Sketches of Doheny and some of the
Confederate leaders, modelled upon the descriptions of burglars and
murderers, that ordinarily adorn the _Hue and Cry_ were," wrote Sir
Charles Gavan Duffy, a generation later, "issued for the enjoyment of
loyal persons." The _Freeman's Journal_ of the day wrote that the public
who were acquainted with the appearance of the gentlemen described will
read with feelings of contempt the malignant effort to insult and wound
the relatives of the men proscribed by the issue of a written caricature
of their persons. This remarkable production of the genius and spirit of
Dublin Castle, read as follows:--

DESCRIPTION OF PERSONS CHARGED WITH
TREASONABLE PRACTICES

WILLIAM SMITH O'BRIEN.--No occupation; forty-six years of age; six feet
in height; sandy hair; dark eyes; sallow, long face; has a sneering
smile constantly on his face; full whiskers; sandy; a little grey;
well-set man; walks erect; dresses well.

THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER.--No occupation; twenty-five years of age; five
feet nine inches; dark, nearly black hair; light blue eyes; pale face;
high cheekbones; peculiar expression about the eyes; cocked nose; no
whiskers; well-dressed.

JOHN B. DILLON.--Barrister; thirty-two years of age; five feet eleven
inches in height; dark hair; dark eyes; thin sallow face; rather thin
black whiskers; dressed respectable; has bilious look.

MICHAEL DOHENY.--Barrister; forty years of age; five feet eight inches
in height; fair or sandy hair; grey eyes; coarse red face like a man
given to drink; high cheekbones; wants several of his teeth; very vulgar
appearance; peculiar coarse unpleasant voice; dress respectable; small
short red whiskers.

MICHAEL CREAN.--Shopman at a shoe-shop; thirty-five years of age; five
feet eight inches; fair or sandy hair; grey eyes; full face; light
whiskers; high fore-head; well-set person; dress, dark shooting frock or
grey tweed, and grey tweed trousers.

FRANCIS MORGAN.[20]--Solicitor; forty-three years of age; five feet
eight inches in height; very dark hair; dark eyes; sallow broad face;
nose a little cocked; the upper lip turns out when speaking; rather
stout; smart gait; black whiskers.

PATRICK JAMES SMITH.[21]--Studying for the bar; twenty-nine years of
age; five feet nine inches in height; fair hair; dark eyes; fair
delicate face and of weak appearance; long back; weak in his walk; small
whiskers; clothing indifferent.

JOHN HETHERINGTON DRUMM.[22]--Medical student; twenty years of age; five
feet three inches in height; very black and curly hair; black eyes; pale
delicate face; rather thin person; delicate appearance; no whiskers;
small face and nose; dressed respectably; Methodist.

THOMAS D'ARCY M'GEE.--Connected with the _Nation_ newspaper;
twenty-three years of age; five feet three inches in height; black hair;
dark face; delicate, pale, thin man; dresses generally black shooting
coat, plaid trousers, light vest.

JOSEPH BRENNAN.--Sub-Editor of the _Felon_ newspaper; five feet six
inches in height; dark hair; dark eyes; pale, sallow face; very stout;
round shoulders; Cork accent; no whiskers; hair on the upper lip; soft,
sickly face; rather respectably dressed, a little reduced.

THOMAS DEVIN REILLY.--Sub-editor of the _Felon_ newspaper; twenty-four
years of age; five feet seven inches in height; sandy coarse hair; grey
eyes; round freckled face; head remarkably broad at the top; broad
shoulders; well-set; dresses well.

JOHN CANTWELL.--Shopman at a grocer's; thirty-five years of age; five
feet ten inches in height; sandy hair; grey eyes; fair face; good
looking; short whisker, light; rather slight person, dresses ...
Supposed a native of Dublin.

STEPHEN J. MEANY.--Sub-editor of _Irish Tribune_; twenty-six years of
age; five feet eleven inches in height; dark hair; full blue eyes; dark
face; small whiskers growing under the chin; smart appearance; was a
constable of the C Division of Police, discharged for dirty habits;
stout person; generally dressed in black.

RICHARD O'GORMAN, Junior.--Barrister; thirty years of age; five feet
eleven inches in height; very dark hair; dark eyes; thin long face;
large dark whiskers; well-made and active; walks upright; dresses black
frock coat, tweed trousers.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 16: After the merging of the Irish Confederation in the
abortive Irish League, and the consequent dissolution of the Executive
of the Confederation, a Council of Five was elected to direct the
Confederate Clubs until the new organisation was perfected. The five
elected were John Blake Dillon, Thomas Francis Meagher, Richard
O'Gorman, Junior, Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee, and Thomas Devin Reilly. The five
never met. O'Gorman was out of Dublin when the Habeas Corpus Act was
suspended.]

[Footnote 17: The Rev. Thresham Gregg was a notorious and blatant
"anti-Popery" preacher of the period whom the wits of Young Ireland
frequently made the butt of their jests. Apart from his bigoted
sectarian obsession, he was, however, in several respects decidedly
nationalistic, and steadily preached support of home trade and
manufactures to his audiences. There can be no reasonable doubt that he
recognised M'Gee. In this connection it may be stated that the Orangemen
expelled from membership of their body Stephenson Dobbyn, an Orangeman
who acted as a spy for Dublin Castle upon the Young Irelanders--drawing
a clear and proper line between forcibly opposing their fellow
countrymen and acting as spies for England upon them.]

[Footnote 18: Hercules Street in Belfast, now swept away, was chiefly
inhabited by butchers who were almost all Catholics and fervent
O'Connellites. When the Young Irelanders attempted to hold a meeting in
Belfast shortly after O'Connell's death, the butchers made a fierce
attack upon them.]

[Footnote 19: This narrative was written at the beginning of 1850]

[Footnote 20: Law Agent to the Dublin Corporation.]

[Footnote 21: Patrick Joseph Smyth]

[Footnote 22: Sub-editor of the _Nation_; afterwards a clergyman.]




CONTEMPORARIES MENTIONED IN "THE FELON'S TRACK"


ANGLESEY, LORD (1768-1854).--Henry William Paget, who lost a leg at
Waterloo and erected a monument to its memory. Lord Lieutenant of
Ireland, 1828-9, 1830-3.

ANTISELL, DR. THOMAS.--A Dublin surgeon and chemist of distinction,
author of various pamphlets and addresses to the Royal Dublin Society on
the geology of Ireland, reafforestation, and the sanitary conditions of
Irish town-life. He supplied a large part of the capital to found the
_Irish Tribune_. After the failure of the insurrection he went to the
United States where he had a distinguished scientific career.

BANTRY, LORD.--(1801-1884) William Hare White, third earl, Lieut-Col, of
the West Cork Artillery. The title became extinct in 1891.

BARRY, MICHAEL JOSEPH (1817-1889).--A Cork barrister, editor of "The
Songs of Ireland" in the Library of Ireland, and author of several
martial pieces, including "The Flag of Green." After the failure of the
insurrection he renounced Nationalism and subsequently became a Dublin
Police Magistrate.

BARRETT, RICHARD (17-- -1855).--Brother of Eaton Stannard Barrett of
Cork, the once famous author of "All the Talents." A journalist of
fortune who changed sides with agility and enlisted under O'Connell in
his latter years, having formerly vilified him.

BRENAN, JOSEPH (1828-1857).--The youngest of the Young Ireland leaders.
Edited Fullam's _Irishman_ in 1849 and unsuccessfully attempted to
revive the insurrection in Waterford and Tipperary. On his failure he
emigrated to the United States and died in New Orleans.

BRODERICK, CAPTAIN.--Inspector-General of Repeal Reading Rooms. He
quitted Conciliation Hall after the death of O'Connell and died mentally
afflicted.

BRYAN, MAJOR.--Of Raheny Lodge, Co. Dublin. Major Bryan acquired a
moderate fortune in Tasmania and returned to Ireland where he joined the
Repeal movement. He left Conciliation Hall with the Young Irelanders.

CAMPBELL, SIR JOHN (1779-1861).--Author of the "Lives of the Lord
Chancellors." A Scots Tory politician, raised to the peerage subsequent
to his connection with Ireland, and finally Lord Chancellor of England.

CANGLEY, DAVID (18-- -1847).--A barrister and one of the hopes of Young
Ireland. Ill-health pursued him through life and ended it prematurely.

CANTWELL, JAMES.--A Dublin mercantile assistant and, later, a
restaurant-proprietor. One of the Council of the Confederation who
supported Mitchel's policy.

CARLETON, WILLIAM (1794-1869).--Author of "Traits and Stories of the
Irish Peasantry."

CAVAIGNAC, LOUIS EUGENE (1802-1857).--One of the most distinguished of
the French Generals in the second quarter of the nineteenth century. On
the establishment of the second Republic he was appointed Minister for
War, and when the "Reds" threatened its stability he was invested with
the dictatorship and speedily crushed the insurrection. In the contest
for the Presidency the glamour of Louis Napoleon's name defeated
Cavaignac. After Napoleon's _coup-d'etat_ Cavaignac retired into private
life. He had sympathies with Ireland, and in 1848 gave private
assurances that in the event of an Irish insurrection winning initial
successes, he would bring the influence of France to bear on England to
force her to concede terms to Ireland.

CAVANAGH, JOHN.--President of the Fitzgerald Confederate Club, Harold's
Cross, Dublin. Wounded at Ballingarry, he was brought to Kilkenny, where
he was concealed and cured by Dr. Cane, and later smuggled to France,
whence he proceeded to the United States, became an officer in the army
and was slain in the Civil War.

"CHRISTABEL" (1815-1881).--Miss M'Carthy, of Kilfademore House, Kenmare,
afterwards Mrs. Downing. A Popular poetess of the period, usually using
the _nom-de-guerre_ of "Christabel." Her best-known poem is "The Grave
of MacCaura." She assisted Doheny and Stephens to escape.

CLARENDON, EARL OF (1804-1870).--George Villiers, the fourth earl,
according to his English biographers, represented the highest type of
English politician and English gentleman. Lord Lieutenant of Ireland,
1846-1852. He hired the editor of an obscene journal in Dublin to
publish libels upon the moral character of the Young Irelanders, and
conducted the affairs of the country from March to June, 1848, under
this man's advice. He paid £3,400 for the services rendered and a demand
for further payments led to a public disclosure of the facts. At the
time Clarendon hired James Birch, Birch had completed a sentence of
imprisonment for criminal libel.

CLEMENTS, EDWARD.--A barrister. One of O'Connell's "tail" in
Conciliation Hall. The attempt of O'Connell to provide "poor Ned
Clements" with a Government situation precipitated the rupture with
Young Ireland.

CONWAY, M.G.--A journalist of ability and no principle who followed the
path of fortune. He professed ultra-Catholic views while O'Connell was
in the ascendant. After O'Connell's death he abjured Catholicism to
ingratiate himself with the Ascendancy element.

CRAMPTON, JUDGE (17-- -1858).--Philip Crampton, called to the Bar 1810,
Solicitor-General 1832, and raised to the Bench 1834. One of the judges
at O'Connell's trial, a strong Tory but a clever lawyer.

CREAN, MICHAEL.--Like M.G. Conway, a Clare man, but of the opposite
type. Crean worked in Dublin as a shopman and with Hollywood was one of
the two trades-union leaders on the Council of the Confederation, where
he opposed Mitchel's policy. After the failure of the insurrection he
went to the United States.

CROLLY, DR. (1780-1849).--Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of All
Ireland from 1835 until his death.

DAUNT, W.J. O'NEILL.--A Co. Cork gentleman, one of O'Connell's first
Protestant supporters in the Repeal Movement. He was elected for Mallow,
but unseated. He ceased to attend Conciliation Hall after the rupture
with the Young Irelanders. Many years later he took a prominent part in
the Home Rule movement.

DAVIS, THOMAS (1814-1845).--The founder and inspiration of the Young
Ireland movement. Son of an English father of Welsh descent and an Irish
mother. From the inception of _The Nation_ newspaper until his death he
was the chief writer of that journal.

DILLON, JOHN BLAKE (1816-1866).--The close personal friend of Thomas
Davis and with him one of the founders of the _Nation_. On his return
from exile he attempted to found an Irish Party in alliance with the
British Radicals and sat in the British Parliament for Tipperary.

DOYLE, DANIEL.--A Limerick solicitor who acted with John O'Donnell and
O'Gorman in inciting Limerick county to insurrection in July, 1848.
After the failure he escaped across the water.

DUFFY, CHARLES GAVAN (1816-1903).--One of the three founders of the
_Nation_ and its editor from 1842 to 1854, when he left Ireland for
Australia where he became Prime Minister of Victoria. In 1873 he
received a knighthood.

"EVA" (1825-1910).--Miss Mary Kelly of Galway, afterwards Mrs. Kevin
Izod O'Doherty. One of the chief poets of the _Nation_.

FERGUSON, SAMUEL (1810-1886).--A Belfast barrister and, save Edward
Walsh, the most Gaelic of Irish poets in the English language. Ferguson
took a leading part in the Protestant Repeal Association in 1848 and
afterwards became one of the first of Irish archaeologists. In 1878 he
was knighted.

FITZGERALD, JOHN LOYD.--Of Newcastle West, Limerick. A lawyer of high
standing.

FITZSIMON, CHRISTOPHER.--Son-in-law of Daniel O'Connell, elected to the
British Parliament for Co. Dublin. He deserted Repeal to support the
Government and was rewarded with the post of Clerk of the Hanaper. His
desertion caused the representation of the Co. Dublin to revert to the
Unionists for half-a-century.

GRAY, SIR JOHN (1815-1875).--A medical doctor and owner of the
_Freeman's Journal_, publicly supporting O'Connell, but personally in
sympathy with Young Ireland. He sat in the British Parliament
subsequently for Kilkenny and was an active member of the Dublin
Corporation.

GRATTAN, HENRY, JUN.--Son of the great Grattan and member for Meath,
1831-52. An honest but weak politician.

GREY, EARL (1802-1894).--Third Earl. Colonial Secretary in the British
Liberal Government, 1846 to 1852.

HALPIN, THOMAS M.--Secretary of the Confederation, and a Dublin
working-man. According to Meagher he failed to transmit instructions to
the Dublin Confederate Clubs to rise in insurrection in the streets of
the capital when the fight opened in Tipperary. Halpin denied
emphatically having received such orders. After the insurrection he made
his way to the United States.

HEYTESBURY, LORD (1779-1860).--William A'Court, British Envoy in Spain
and Naples, and Ambassador in Portugal and Russia. Lord Lieutenant of
Ireland, 1844-6.

HOGAN, JOHN (1800-1858).--One of the greatest of modern sculptors. With
MacManus and other artists he presented O'Connell with the "Repeal
Cap," modelled on the Irish Crown.

HOLLYWOOD, EDWARD.--A silk-weaver and, with Michael Crean, an artisan
leader. He acted as treasurer of the Davis Confederate Club. Arrested in
Wicklow with D'Arcy M'Gee for sedition, but the prosecution was
abandoned. After the insurrection he escaped to France, and some years
later returned to Dublin.

HOLMES, ROBERT (1765-1859).--Brother-in-law of Thomas Addis and Robert
Emmet, and a vehement opponent of the Union in 1799-1800. He declined to
accept promotion at the Bar while the Union endured.

HUDSON, WILLIAM ELIOT (1797-1853).--Described by Thomas Davis as the
best man and the best Irishman he ever knew. A man of fortune and
culture who devoted his leisure and his wealth to helping every movement
for the betterment of Ireland.

HUME, JOSEPH (1777-1855).--An English politician who sat in the British
Parliament for English, Irish, and Scotch constituencies as Tory and
later as Radical. Chief author of the Radical shibboleth, "Peace,
Retrenchment and Reform."

IRELAND, RICHARD.--A barrister, one of the founders of the Protestant
Repeal Association in 1848. He emigrated to Australia afterwards and
became Attorney-General of Victoria.

KENYON, FATHER (18-- -1869).--Curate and afterwards Parish Priest of
Templederry in Tipperary. A strong opponent of the "Old Irelanders" and
the close political and personal friend of John Mitchel.

LALOR, JAMES FINTAN (1810-49).--Son of Patrick Lalor, M.P. of Queen's
Co. A vigorous writer whose agrarian doctrine was converted by Henry
George into Land Nationalisation--which it was not. He contributed to
the _Nation_ and the _Felon_, 1847-8, and attempted an insurrectionary
conspiracy, 1849.

LAMARTINE, ALPHONSE DE (1790-1869).--Minister for Foreign Affairs in the
French Republican Government. The British Ministry through Lord
Normanby threatened him with the possible rupture of diplomatic
relations if he gave an encouraging reply to the Young Ireland
deputation. Politically Lamartine was more of the school of the British
Whigs of his period than of any native French school. His high character
and literary abilities were held in deserved esteem by his countrymen,
but as a man of affairs he was never really successful.

LANE, DENNY (1818-95).--A Cork commercial man who identified himself
prominently with the Young Ireland cause in Munster. Author of
"Carrigdhoun" and some other popular ballads.

LAWLESS, HON. CECIL.--Son of Lord Cloncurry. An O'Connellite Repealer
and somewhat virulent opponent of the Young Irelanders who nicknamed him
"Artful Cecil."

LEDRU-ROLLIN, ALEXANDRE (1808-74).--Minister of the Interior in the
French Republican Government of 1848. He was connected with Ireland by
marriage and strongly sympathised with its people.

LEFROY, BARON (1776-1869).--One-time member for Trinity College in the
British Parliament. Subsequent to 1848 promoted Lord Chief Justice of
the Queen's Bench, and although he became incapable of discharging the
office he refused to resign it until he had passed his ninetieth year.

LEYNE, MAURICE RICHARD (1820-1854).--The only member of the O'Connell
family who identified himself with Young Ireland. He was an occasional
contributor to the _Nation_ from 1844 to 1848 and in June of that year,
on the eve of the insurrection, formally joined Young Ireland. On the
revival of the _Nation_ in 1849 he joined Duffy in its editorship.

LOUIS NAPOLEON (1808-1873).--Son of the King of Holland, nephew of the
great Napoleon, President of the second Republic and, after the _coup
d'etat_ and the plebescite, Emperor of France. Napoleon while in
exile manifested some sympathy with Ireland, and as a member of the
French Republic was, like Cavaignac, willing to intervene on this
country's behalf with England if the Young Irelanders had succeeded in
winning initial engagements against the British forces in the field.

[Illustration: Louis Napoleon (1848)]

MACHALE, ARCHBISHOP (1791-1881).--"John of Tuam"--the greatest of the
Irish prelates of his time. He was in partial sympathy with the Young
Irelanders, but opposed to them on several educational questions.

MACNEVIN, THOMAS (1810-1848).--A leading Young Irelander and college
friend of Davis. Author, in the Library of Ireland, of "The Confiscation
of Ulster" and "The History of the Volunteers."

MACMANUS, TERENCE BELLEW (1823-60).--A prosperous Irish merchant in
Liverpool who relinquished his prosperity to join in the insurrection.
He escaped from the British penal colonies to the United States and died
there in poor circumstances.

MACLISE, DANIEL (1806-1870).--One of the first painters of his time. He
refused the presidency of the British Royal Academy.

M'CARTHY, DENIS FLORENCE (1817-1882).--One of the chief poets of the
_Nation_, afterwards Professor of English Literature in the Catholic
University.

M'GEE, THOMAS DARCY (1825-1868).--Son of a coast-guard at Carlingford,
Louth. M'Gee between the ages of seventeen and twenty won a remarkable
reputation as a journalist in the United States and came back to Ireland
to take up the editorship of the _Freeman's Journal_, which he
relinquished to join the _Nation_ staff. After the failure in 1848
Bishop Maginn procured his escape to America disguised as a priest.
M'Gee, Devin Reilly and Doheny quarrelled in the United States, and
M'Gee's political views gradually modified. He proceeded to Canada,
entered politics, and became one of the first statesmen of the dominion
and a member of the Government. In that position he was continually
attacked by a section of the Irish as a renegade, and the bitterness of
his replies inflamed feeling. In April, 1868, he was assassinated by an
alleged Fenian. Local and sectional political hatreds appear, however,
to have had more to do with the murder of M'Gee than his virulent
denunciations of the Fenians.

MAGINN, EDWARD, D.D. (1802-1849).--Son of a farmer at Fintona, Tyrone,
Dr. Maginn entered the Church and speedily became noted for his vigour
of intellect and strength of character. In 1845 he was appointed
coadjutor-Bishop of Derry, and created Bishop of Ortosia in the
Archbishopric of Tyre. A strong advocate of Repeal and tenant-right, he
gradually attorned to the Young Irelanders when he discovered that the
Whig Government had bought up Conciliation Hall. In 1848 he sent Sir
John Gray to Gavan Duffy offering to take the field at the head of the
priests of his diocese if the insurrection were held back until the
harvest had been reaped. The sudden suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act,
however, forced the Young Irelanders' hands two months too soon.

MANGAN, JAMES CLARENCE (1803-49).--The first of the poets of the Young
Ireland period. He declined to write for any but the Irish public, and
died in poverty.

MARTIN, JOHN (1812-1875).--A landed proprietor of Co. Down. On his
return from transportation, he re-entered Irish politics; was elected in
1870 to the British Parliament, for Meath, and played a leading part in
founding the Home Rule movement.

"MARY" (1828-69).--With "Eva" and "Speranza" one of the triumvirate of
the women-poets of the _Nation_: Miss Ellen Mary Downing of
Cork--afterwards a nun, Sister Mary Alphonsus.

MEAGHER, THOMAS FRANCIS (1823-67).--Son of the O'Connellite member of
the British Parliament for Waterford. He escaped from the British Penal
colonies to the United States in 1852 and served as Brigadier-General
on the Federal side during the civil war. When Acting-Governor of
Montana he was drowned in the Mississippi.

MEANY, STEPHEN JOSEPH.--A journalist, imprisoned in 1848 under the
Habeas Corpus Suspension Act. In the United States he became a leader of
one of the wings of the Fenian Brotherhood and, returning to Ireland in
1866, he was arrested on the way in London and sentenced to a term of
penal servitude.

MELBOURNE, LORD (1779-1848).--William Lamb, second Viscount, Chief
Secretary of Ireland, 1827-8, and Premier of England with brief
intervals from 1834 to 1841.

MILEY, JOHN, D.D. (1805-1861).--Curate at the Catholic Pro-Cathedral,
Dublin, and private chaplain to O'Connell. He was the intermediary in
arranging the reunion of the O'Connellites with the Young Irelanders in
the stillborn Irish League. In 1849 he was made Rector of the Irish
College at Paris. On his return to Ireland he was appointed parish
priest of Bray. He was an eloquent preacher, and author of several works
on the Papacy.

MITCHEL, JOHN (1818-75).--A solicitor of Banbridge, and one of the first
Irish Protestants of note to join the Repeal Association. From the death
of Davis until the end of 1847 he was the chief writer of the _Nation_
newspaper. On his escape from the British penal colonies in 1853 he
settled in the United States, and took an active part on the Confederate
side in the civil war. He returned to Ireland a few months before his
death, and was elected member of the British Parliament for Tipperary,
as a demonstration of hostility to British Government in Ireland.

MOORE, JUDGE.--Richard Moore, called to the Bar in 1807, acted for the
defence in the trial of O'Connell and the Traversers, Liberal
Attorney-General in 1846 and "almost Lord Chancellor." He was raised to
the Bench in 1847 and died in 1858.

MONAHAN, JAMES HENRY (1804-78).--Attorney-General in 1848,
Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas, 1850.

NAGLE, DR.--"A Dublin doctor without patients," who acted as a handyman
for John O'Connell. He was devoid of ability. Subsequently he received a
small Government post.

O'CONNELL, DANIEL (1775-1847).--Successor to John Keogh in the
leadership of the Irish Catholics, and although his actual achievements
were not so much greater than those of Keogh and Sweetman, their
brilliancy threw the fame of his predecessors into the shade, where it
still rests.

O'CONNELL, MAURICE (1802-53).--Eldest son of Daniel O'Connell, and a
member of the British Parliament. He was the cleverest and most national
of O'Connell's children.

O'CONNELL, MORGAN JOHN (1804-85).--Second son to Daniel O'Connell. He
served under General Devereux in South America, entered the British
Parliament as a Repealer, deserted Repeal, and was appointed
Assistant-Registrar of Deeds.

O'CONNELL, JOHN (1810-1858).--The chief political assistant of his
father, Daniel O'Connell. After the collapse of the Repeal Association
he received a place from the British Government.

O'CONNELL, DANIEL, JUN. (1815-1897).--The youngest of O'Connell's sons.
He sat in the British Parliament until 1863, when he was appointed to a
Government post.

O'CONOR DON, THE (1794-1847).--Repeal M.P. for Roscommon. He deserted to
the Liberals, and was made a Lord of the Treasury.

O'DEA, PATRICK.--The Young Ireland leader in Rathkeale, Co. Limerick.

O'DOHERTY, KEVIN IZOD (1823-1895).--Son of a Dublin solicitor. After his
release from transportation he settled in Australia and became prominent
in its politics and medical science. In 1885 he returned temporarily to
Ireland, and sat for a brief period in the British Parliament as
Parnellite member for Meath.

O'DONNELL, JOHN.--A Limerick solicitor and an ardent Young Irelander.
When Richard O'Gorman came to Limerick to urge the people to arms,
O'Donnell travelled through the county with him as his aide-de-camp. On
the news of the outbreak in Tipperary, O'Donnell, Doyle and Daniel
Harnett raised the country around Abbeyfeale, cut off the mails and
pitched an insurgent camp outside the town where the Abbeyfeale men
waited for O'Gorman, who was elsewhere in the county, to take command.
Before his arrival the news of the collapse at Ballingarry arrived and
the Abbeyfeale Camp broke up. O'Donnell escaped from the country with
O'Gorman.

O'DOWD, JAMES.--A Conciliation Hall lawyer. Afterwards appointed to a
legal position in connection with the London Custom house.

O'DWYER, CAREW.--Repeal M.P. for Louth, 1832-5. He deserted Repeal and
received a minor position in the Exchequer Court.

O'FLAHERTY, MARTIN.--A Galway solicitor and a member of the Irish
Confederation.

O'GORMAN, RICHARD, JUN. (1826-1895).--Son of Richard O'Gorman of the
Woollen Hall, one of the foremost Dublin merchants and Catholic leaders
in the Emancipation struggle. O'Gorman settled in New York after his
escape and became a judge of the Superior Court.

O'HEA, JAMES.--A lawyer described by Davis as of "vast abilities."

O'LOGHLEN, SIR COLMAN (1819-1877).--Second baronet, son of the Master of
the Rolls. Afterwards M.P. for Clare, a Privy Councillor and
Judge-Advocate-General.

O'MAHONY, JOHN (1816-1877).--A gentleman-farmer of ancient lineage and
high scholarship. After the second attempt to kindle insurrection he
fled to the Continent and later proceeded to the United States, where
with Doheny and Stephens he founded Fenianism.

PEEL, SIR ROBERT (1788-1850).--Chief Secretary for Ireland and organiser
of the "new police"--hence "peelers." In politics an opportunist,
opposing and supporting Catholic Emancipation and Free Trade. Premier of
England, 1834-5, 1841-6.

PENNEFATHER, BARON (1773-1859).--Chief Baron of the Irish Exchequer,
1821, and for thirty-eight years a judge.

PIGOT, CHIEF BARON (1797-1872).--Son of Dr. Pigot of Mallow and one of
the founders of the attempted National Whig Party in the period 1820-30.
He was a cultured man and an upright judge.

PIGOT, JOHN E. (1822-1871).--Eldest son of Chief Baron Pigot and the
intimate comrade of Thomas Davis. Author of many ballads and articles in
the _Nation_ and other National journals, and an ardent collector of
Irish music.

PLUNKET, LORD (1764-1854).--William Conyngham Plunket, member for
Charlemont in the Irish Parliament and a bitter opponent of the Union.
Lord Chancellor of Ireland from 1830 to 1841.

RAY, THOMAS MATTHEW (1801-1881).--A Dublin trades-union leader of great
organising ability, appointed by O'Connell secretary of the Repeal
Association. Subsequently Assistant-Registrar of Deeds.

REILLY, THOMAS DEVIN (1823-1854).--One of the _Nation_ staff and one of
the few leading Young Irelanders who supported Mitchel on the division
in the Confederation in 1848. In the United States he won a foremost
position as a political writer.

REYNOLDS, JOHN.--An Alderman of the Dublin Corporation and M.P. for
Dublin City in the British Parliament, 1847-52. Subsequently Lord Mayor.
He was utterly corrupt and a mob-leader.

ROEBUCK, J.A. (1801-79).--An English politician who professed
Independent views, and from the violence of his denunciation of his
opponents was nicknamed "Tear 'em."

RUSSELL, LORD JOHN (1792-1878).--Liberal Prime Minister of England,
1846-52, and again, 1865. He successfully opposed Lord George Bentinck's
proposal to preserve the Irish from famine and pauperism by undertaking
the construction of railways.

SAVAGE, JOHN (1828-1888).--One of the founders of the _Irish Tribune_.
After the complete failure of the insurrection, he escaped to the United
States where he became eminent in literature and for a time head of the
Fenian movement.

SHEIL, RICHARD LALOR (1791-1851).--Dramatist, orator and politician.
Deserted Repeal and was made British minister at Florence. Subsequently
Master of the Mint.

SHIELDS, JAMES, GENERAL (1807-1879).--Born near Dungannon, Shields
emigrated in early life to the United States, where he attained
distinction in journalism and subsequently celebrity as a lawyer. On the
outbreak of war with Mexico, he forsook the Bar for arms, and as a
soldier acquired even higher renown. In 1848 he was chosen as governor
of Oregon, and was considered one of the ablest of the United States
Generals. His political views being in sympathy with the Young
Irelanders, several of them looked towards Shields as another Eoghan
Ruadh, who would accept the call of his country and return to lead the
Irish once they had taken the field. Subsequently Shields engaged in the
Civil War on the Northern side, and, although a comparatively old man,
distinguished himself by defeating General Stonewall Jackson at the
Battle of Winchester, although his army was inferior in numbers and he
had been wounded at the opening of the fight.

SMYTH, P.J. (1826-1885).--One of the youngest of the Young Ireland
leaders. He escaped from Ireland to the United States after the
collapse of the insurrection, and carried out the rescue of Mitchel from
Van Diemen's Land. On his return to Ireland he re-entered politics, and
sat in the British Parliament successively for Westmeath and Tipperary.

STANLEY, LORD (1802-1869).--Secretary for Foreign Affairs in the British
Liberal Government, 1846-52.

STAUNTON, MICHAEL.--Proprietor of the _Morning Register_ newspaper and
an alderman of the Dublin Corporation. His memory survives as the
involuntary agent of bringing Duffy and Davis together--and thus leading
to the foundation of _The Nation_.

STEPHENS, JAMES (1825-1901).--A Kilkenny railway employe. Afterwards
chief organiser of the Fenian movement, of which, with O'Mahony and
Doheny, he was one of the founders.

TORRENS, JUDGE.--Called to the Bar, 1798, raised to the Bench, 1823,
where he sat for thirty-three years.

WILDE, SIR THOMAS (1782-1855).--Lord Truro, Attorney-General to the
British Liberal Government in England, 1846; afterwards Chief Justice of
the Common Pleas and Lord Chancellor of England, 1850-2.

WILLIAMS, RICHARD DALTON (1822[E]-1862).--One of the most popular of the
poets of the _Nation_. The Government prosecution failed in his case,
and he emigrated to the United States where he became Professor of
Belles Lettres in the University of Mobile.

WYSE, SIR THOMAS (1791-1862).--One of O'Connell's lieutenants in the
Catholic Association, of which he wrote a history. He declined to
support Repeal, but favoured what is now known as Federal Home Rule,
served as a Lord of the Treasury in Melbourne's administration, and
afterwards for many years as British minister at Athens. He was a man of
superior character to the ordinary type of place-seekers, and his
writings won him a temporary European reputation.

[Illustration: General Cavaignac (1848)]

[Illustration: Ledru-Rollin (1848)]

[Illustration: Lamartine (1848)]




INDEX HOMINUM


Anglesea, Lord, 5, 302.

Antisell Dr., xxx, 141, 302.


Bantry, Lord, 241, 242, 302.

Barrett, Richard, 49, 302.

Barrett, Eaton Stannard, 302.

Barry, Michael Joseph, 32, 62, 98, 99, 105, 106, 302.

Bem, General, 296.

Bentinck, Lord George, xii, 315.

Birch, James, 303.

Blake, Sir Thomas, 295.

Blackburne, Chief Justice, 192, 197.

Brenan, Joseph, 301, 302.

Broderick, Captain, 86, 303.

Brown, Bishop, 43.

Bryan, Major, 89, 303.

Byrne, Rev. Father, 155, 163, 164, 166.


Callanan, Jeremiah Joseph, 225.

Campbell, Sir John, 18, 303.

Cane, Dr., 304.

Cangley, David, 32, 303.

Cantwell, Bishop, 40, 42, 44, 45.

Cantwell, James, xxx, 159, 168, 176, 301, 303.

Carleton, William, 33, 125, 303.

Cavanagh, John, 176, 181, 303, 304.

Cavaignac, General, xix, 303, 308.

"Christabel" (Mrs. Downing), 251, 304.

Clarendon, Lord, 127, 137, 199, 293, 298, 304.

Clements, Edward, 76, 304.

Cloncurry, Lord, 307.

Conway, Michael George, 62, 304.

Corvinus, Matthias, 296.

Crampton, Judge, 146, 304.

Crean, Michael, 112, 300, 304, 305, 307.

Crolly, Archbishop, 39, 43, 45, 61, 305.

Cromwell, Oliver, x, 296.

Curran, John Philpot, 71.

Cunningham, D.P., 176.


Daunt, W.J. O'Neill, 45, 305.

Davis, Thomas, viii, ix, 16-20, 22, 23, 30-33, 36, 42, 44, 50, 51, 56,
    57, 63, 64, 69-71, 74, 127, 305, 309, 311, 316.

Dembinski, General, 296.

Devereux, General, 312.

Dillon, John Blake, xv-xvii, 17-20, 32, 122, 131, 140, 153, 159, 163,
    175, 176, 178, 179, 223, 240, 283, 289, 290, 298, 300, 305.

Dobbyn, Stephenson, 292.

Doherty, Chief-Justice, 6, 192, 305.

Doyle, Daniel, 283, 305, 313.

Drumm, J.H., 300.

Duffy, Sir Charles Gavan, xx, 18, 19, 30, 32, 38, 69, 93-95, 119-122,
    125, 126, 141, 148, 153, 299, 305, 308, 310, 316.

Duffy, James, 33.


Ebrington, Lord, 14, 15.

"Eva" (Mrs. Kevin Izod O'Doherty), 127, 305, 310.

Emmet, Thomas Addis, 307.

Emmet, Robert, 139, 143, 193, 307.

Ferguson, Sir Samuel, 118, 148, 305, 306.

Fitzgerald, John Loyd, 48, 306.

Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, 193.

Fitzpatrick, James, 99.

Fitzsimon, Christopher, 11, 306.

French, Henry Sneyd (High Sheriff of Dublin), 134, 136.

Fullam, Bernard, 302.


George, Henry, 307.

Gray, Sir John, 89, 299, 306, 310.

Grattan, Henry, Jun., 49, 67, 306.

Grey, Earl, 7, 306.

Gregg, Rev. Thresham, 292.


Halpin, Thomas, M. 112, 306.

Harnett, Daniel, 313.

Hartnett, Richard, xxx.

Hatchell, John, Solicitor-General, 145.

Heytesbury, Lord, 45, 306.

Hogan, John, 23, 70, 306, 307.

Hollywood, Edward, 112, 305, 307.

Holmes, Robert, 96, 131, 132, 135, 139, 140, 307.

Hudson, William Eliot, 32, 33, 71, 307.

Hume, Joseph, 74, 77, 307.

Huniad, Matthias, 296.


Ireland, Richard, 118, 148, 307.


Jackson, General "Stonewall," 315.

Jones, Paul, 290.


Kenyon, Father, 60, 131, 152, 174, 307.

Keeley, James, 112.


Lalor, Patrick, 307.

Lalor, James Fintan, 141, 307.

Lamartine, Alphonse de, xix, 307, 308.

Lane, Denny, 32, 308.

Lawless, Hon. Cecil, 109, 308.

Leach, James, 293.

Ledru-Rollin, Alexandre de, xix, 25, 107, 308.

Lefroy, Baron, 132-139, 307.

Leyne, Maurice, xiv, 173, 176, 179, 183, 297, 308.

Longmore, Captain, 178.

Louis Napoleon (Napoleon III.) xix, 303, 308, 309.


MacHale, Archbishop, 38, 44, 51, 309.

Maclise, Daniel 70, 309.

MacManus, Terence Bellew, xiv, xxi, 89, 176, 178, 181-183, 190-196, 198,
    199, 297, 305, 309.

MacNally, Bishop, 43.

MacNevin, Thomas, 32, 33, 309.

Maginn, Bishop, xx, 309, 310.

Mangan, James Clarence, 127, 310.

Martin, John, xxx, 131, 138, 141-145, 200, 309, 310.

"Mary" (Miss Ellen Downing), 310.

M'Cabe, Peter, 292.

M'Carthy, Denis Florence, 32, 224, 238, 239, 309.

Meagher, Thomas Francis, ix, xiv-xix, 32, 89, 98, 102, 105, 107, 122,
    128, 131, 138, 140, 153-159, 163, 165, 173-176, 179, 183, 189-199,
    202, 204, 207, 289-291, 297-299, 305, 309, 310.

Meany, Stephen Joseph, 141, 301, 311.

Melbourne, Lord, 9, 10, 311.

M'Garahan, Wm., 294.

M'Gee, Thomas D'Arcy, xiv, xv, xx, 32, 113, 119, 120, 153, 289-297, 299,
    300, 306, 307, 309, 310.

Miley, Rev. Dr., 115, 148, 311.

Mitchel, John, xii, xiii, xix, xx, xxx, 32, 33, 88, 89, 95, 96, 98, 99,
    102, 105, 107, 118-122, 125, 127-141, 143, 151, 157, 188, 280, 311,
    314, 316.

Mitchel, William Henry, 131.

Monahan, Chief Justice, 132, 139, 142, 143, 192, 312.

Moore, George Henry, xi, xii, 310.

Moore, Judge, 132, 133, 138, 139, 192, 311.

Morgan, Francis, 300.

Mullen, Robert, 75.

Murray, Archbishop, 45, 46, 295.


Nagle, Dr., 47, 48, 312.

Napoleon I., 298.

Normanby, Lord, 308.


O'Brien, William Smith, vii, xv-xx, 24, 34, 36, 41, 46, 49, 51, 57, 59,
    67, 73, 76-81, 83-94, 96, 97, 99-101, 106-108, 117, 121, 122, 128,
    129, 148, 156-159, 163, 165, 167-184, 187-195, 205-207, 284, 291,
    296, 299.

O'Connell, Daniel, xxvii-xxix, 2-14, 21-25, 27-30, 34-41, 43, 45-50,
    54-59, 61-70, 74-77, 83-89, 93-95, 97-101, 103-111, 114-117, 120,
    187, 188, 250, 293, 302-304, 311, 312, 316.

O'Connell, Daniel (Jun.) 47, 88, 99, 101, 312.

O'Connell, John, 47, 59, 60, 77, 78, 81-83, 88, 101, 107, 113, 117, 128,
    151, 312.

O'Connell, Maurice, 45, 59, 67, 88, 128, 312.

O'Connell, Morgan, 11, 312.

O'Conor Don, The, 109, 312.

O'Connor, Feargus, 9.

O'Dea, Patrick, xxx, 312.

O'Doherty, Kevin Izod, xxx, 141, 142, 145-147, 200, 312, 313.

O'Donohoe, Patrick, 168, 169,176, 178, 183, 189-196, 198, 199.

O'Donnell, John, 283, 305, 313.

O'Donnell, Richard, 192-193.

O'Dowd, James, 75, 313.

O'Dwyer, Andrew Carew, 11, 313.

O'Flaherty, Martin, 131, 313.

O'Gorman, Richard (Jun.), xv, 32, 89, 98, 99, 102, 105, 122, 131, 152,
    153, 189, 223, 240, 283, 289, 301, 305, 312, 313.

O'Gorman, Richard (Sen.), 313.

O'Hagan, John, 32, 131.

O'Hara, Charles, 131.

O'Hea, James, 75, 88, 89, 313.

O'Loghlen, Sir Colman, 48, 49, 64, 75, 76, 88, 90-92, 118, 131, 140,
    313.

O'Mahony, John, xiv, xvii, xviii, xxi, xxx, 163, 173, 176, 185, 186,
    201, 202, 206, 269, 270, 283-287, 313, 314, 316.

O'Neill, Eoghan Ruadh, ix, 296, 315.


Parle, Father, xvi.

Peel, Sir Robert, 12, 20, 21, 36, 98, 314.

Pennefather, Baron, 142, 144, 146, 314.

Pigot, Chief Baron, 142, 144-146, 314.

Pigot, Dr., 314.

Pigot, John Edward, 89, 314.

Pius IX., Pope, 295.

Plunket, Lord, 18, 314.


Quinlan, Margaret, 186, 201.


Ray, Thomas Matthew, 10, 87, 88, 106, 314.

Reilly, John, 45, 106.

Reilly, Thomas Devin, xv, xviii, 32, 120, 127, 131, 138, 141, 153, 171,
    176, 179, 184, 289, 301, 309, 314.

Reynolds, John, 47, 117, 314.

Roebuck, J.A., 57, 315.

Russell, Lord John, xii, 57, 97-99, 164, 250, 251, 315.


Savage, John, 141, 284-287, 315.

Shiel, Richard Lalor, 6, 101, 102, 109, 315.

Shields, General, v, vi, 315.

Sligo, Marquis of, xii.

Smyth, Patrick Joseph, xv, 159, 168, 283, 300, 315, 316.

Stanley, Lord, 9, 316.

Staunton, Michael, 17, 316.

Stephens, James, xxi, xxx, 168, 169, 176, 178, 181-183, 203-254, 314,
    316.


Torrens, Judge, 316.

Trant, Captain, 180-183.


Victoria, Queen, 137, 199, 287.


Walsh, Edward, 305.

Wilde, Sir Thomas, 84, 316.

Wilde, Lady ("Speranza"), 310.

Williams, Richard Dalton, xxx, 32, 141, 145, 146, 316.

Wright, J.D., 176.

Wyse, Sir Thomas, 50, 58, 316.




[Transcriber's Note A: printed "posioned" in original.]

[Transcriber's Note B: spelled "alleigance" in original.]

[Transcriber's Note C: sic.]

[Transcriber's Note D: Printed "hose" in original.]

[Transcriber's Note E: Misprinted as "1882" in original.]