Speeches from the Dock Part 5

JOHN MARTIN.

When the law had consummated its crime, and the doom of the felon was p.r.o.nounced against John Mitchel, there stood in the group that pressed round him in the dock and echoed back the a.s.surances which he flung as a last defiance at his foes, a thoughtful, delicate looking, but resolute young Irishman, whose voice perhaps was not the loudest of those that spoke there, but whose heart throbbed responsively to his words, and for whom the final message of the unconquerable rebel possessed a meaning and significance that gave it the force of a special revelation.

"Promise for me, Mitchel," they cried out, but he had no need to join in that request; he had no need to intimate to Mr. Mitchel his willingness to follow out the enterprise which that fearless patriot had so boldly commenced. On the previous day, sitting with the prisoner in his gloomy cell, John Martin of Loughorne had decided on the course which he would take in the event of the suppression of the _United Irishman_ and the transportation of its editor. He would start a successor to that journal, and take the place of his dear friend at the post of danger. It was a n.o.ble resolve, deliberately taken, and resolutely and faithfully was it carried out. None can read the history of that act of daring, and of the life of sacrifice by which it has been followed, and not agree with us that while the memories of Tone, of Emmet, and of Russell, are cherished in Ireland, the name of John Martin ought not be forgotten.

A few days subsequent to that memorable scene in Greenstreet court-house, John Martin quitted his comfortable home and the green slopes of Loughorne, separated himself from the friends he loved and the relatives who idolized him, and entered on the stormy career of a national leader and journalist, at a time when to advocate the principles of nationality was to incur the ferocious hostility of a government whose thirst for vengeance was only whetted by the transportation of John Mitchel. He knew the danger he was braving; he knew that the path on which he entered led down to suffering and ruin; he stood in the gap from which Mitchel had been hurled, with a full consciousness of the perils of the situation; but unflinchingly and unhesitatingly as the martyr goes to his death, he threw himself into the thinning ranks of the patriot leaders; and when the event that he antic.i.p.ated arrived, and the prison gates opened to receive him--then, too, in the midst of indignities and privations--he displayed an imperturbable firmness and contempt for physical suffering, that showed how powerless persecution is to subdue the spirit that self-conscious righteousness sustains.

His history previous to the conviction of his friend and school-fellow, John Mitchel, if it includes no events of public importance, possesses for us all the interest that attaches to the early life of a good and remarkable man. John Martin was born at Loughorne, in the lords.h.i.+p of Newry, Co. Down, on the 8th of September, 1812; being the eldest son of Samuel Martin and Jane Harshaw, both natives of that neighbourhood, and members of Presbyterian families settled there for many generations.

About the time of his birth, his father purchased the fee-simple of the large farm which he had previously rented, and two of his uncles having made similar investments, the family became proprietors of the townland on which they lived. Mr. Samuel Martin, who died in 1831, divided his attention between the management of the linen business--a branch of industry in which the family had partly occupied themselves for some generations--and the care of his land. His family consisted of nine children, of whom John Martin--the subject of our sketch--was the second born. The principles of his family, if they could not be said to possess the hue of nationality, were at least liberal and tolerant. In '98, the Martins of Loughorne, were stern opponents of the United Irishmen; but in '82, his father and uncles were enrolled amongst the volunteers, and the Act of Union was opposed by them as a national calamity. It was from his good mother, however, a lady of refined taste and remarkable mental culture, that young John derived his inclination for literary pursuits, and learned the maxims of justice and equality that swayed him through life. He speedily discarded the prejudices against Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation, which were not altogether unknown amongst his family, and which even found some favour with himself in the unreflecting days of boyhood. The natural tendency of his mind, however, was as true to the principles of justice as the needle to the pole, and the quiet rebuke that one day fell from his uncle--"What! John, would you not give your Catholic fellow-countrymen the same rights that you enjoy yourself?"

having set him a thinking for the first time on the subject, he soon formed opinions more in consonance with liberality and fair play.

When about twelve years of age, young Martin was sent to the school of Dr. Henderson at Newry, where he first became acquainted with John Mitchel, then attending the same seminary as a day scholar. We next find John Martin an extern student of Trinity College, and a year after the death of his father he took out his degree in Arts. He was now twenty years old, and up to this time had suffered much from a const.i.tutional affection, being subject from infancy to fits of spasmodic asthma.

Strange to say, the disease which troubled him at frequently recurring intervals at home, seldom attacked him when away from Loughorne, and partly for the purpose of escaping it, he took up his residence in Dublin in 1833, and devoted himself to the study of medicine. He never meditated earning his living by the profession, but he longed for the opportunity of a.s.suaging the sufferings of the afflicted poor. The air of the dissecting-room, however, was too much for Martin's delicate nervous organization; the kindly encouragement of his fellow-students failed to induce him to breathe its fetid atmosphere a second time, and he was forced to content himself with a theoretical knowledge of the profession. By diligent study and with the a.s.sistance of lectures, anatomical plates, &c., he managed to conquer the difficulty; and he had obtained nearly all the certificates necessary for taking out a medical degree, when he was recalled in 1835 to Loughorne, by the death of his uncle John, whose house and lands he inherited.

During the four years following he lived at Loughorne, discharging the duties of a resident country gentleman as they are seldom performed in Ireland, and endearing himself to all cla.s.ses, but particularly to the poor, by his gentle disposition, purity of mind, and benevolence of heart. In him the afflicted and the poverty-stricken ever found a sympathising friend, and if none of the rewards which the ruling faction were ready to shower on the Irishman of his position who looked to the Castle for inspiration, fell to his share, he enjoyed a recompense more precious in the prayers and the blessings of the poor. The steps of his door were crowded with the patients who flocked to him for advice, and for whom he prescribed gratuitously--not without some reluctance, however, arising from distrust of his own abilities and an unwillingness to interfere with the practice of the regular profession. But the diffidence with which he regarded his own efforts was not shared by the people of the district. Their faith in his professional skill was unbounded, and perhaps the confidence which they felt in his power, contributed in some measure to the success that attended his practice.

In 1839 Mr. Martin sailed from Bristol to New York, and travelled thence to the extreme west of Upper Canada to visit a relative who had settled there. On that occasion he was absent from Ireland nearly twelve months, and during his stay in America he made some tours in Canada and the Northern States, visiting the Falls, Toronto, Montreal, Philadelphia, New York, Was.h.i.+ngton, Pittsburg, and Cleveland. In 1841 he made a brief continental tour, and visited the chief points of attraction along the Rhine. During this time Mr. Martin's political ideas became developed and expanded, and though like Smith O'Brien, he at first withheld his sympathies from the Repeal agitation, in a short time he became impressed with the justice of the national demand for independence. His retiring disposition kept him from appearing very prominently before the public; but the value of his adhesion to the Repeal a.s.sociation was felt to be great by those who knew his uprightness, his disinterestedness, and his ability.

When the suicidal policy of O'Connell drove the Confederates from Conciliation Hall, John Martin was not a silent spectator of the crisis, and in consequence of the manly sentiments he expressed with reference to the treatment to which the Young Ireland party had been subjected, he ceased to be a member of the a.s.sociation. There was another cause too for his secession. A standing taunt in the mouth of the English press was that O'Connell pocketed the peoples' money and took care to let n.o.body know what he did with it. To put an end to this reproach Mr.

Martin asked that the accounts of the a.s.sociation should be published.

"Publish the accounts!" shrieked the well-paid gang that marred the influence and traded in the politics of O'Connell: "Monstrous!" and they silenced the troublesome purist by suppressing his letters and expelling him from the a.s.sociation. In the ranks of the Confederates, however, Martin found more congenial society; amongst them he found men as earnest, as sincere, and as single-minded as himself, and by them the full worth of his character was soon appreciated. He frequently attended their meetings, and he it was who filled the chair during the prolonged debates that ended with the temporary withdrawal of Mitchel from the Confederation. When the _United Irishman_ was started he became a contributor to its columns, and he continued to write in its pages up to the date of its suppression, and the conviction of its editor and proprietor.

There were many n.o.ble and excellent qualities which the friends of John Martin knew him to possess. Rect.i.tude of principle, abhorrence of injustice and intolerance, deep love of country, the purity and earnestness of a saint, allied with the kindliness and inoffensiveness of childhood; amiability and disinterestedness, together with a perfect abnegation of self, and total freedom from the vanity which affected a few of his compatriots--these they gave him credit for, but they were totally unprepared for the lion-like courage, the boldness, and the prompt.i.tude displayed by him, when the government, by the conviction of Mitchel, flung down the gauntlet to the people of Ireland. Hastily settling up his worldly accounts in the North, he returned to Dublin to stake his fortune and his life in the cause which he had promised to serve. The _United Irishman_ was gone, but Martin had undertaken that its place in Irish Journalism should not be vacant; and a few weeks after the office in Trinity-street was sacked he reoccupied the violated and empty rooms, and issued there-from the first number of the _Irish Felon_. There was no halting place in Irish Journalism then. The _Nation_ had already flung peace and conciliation and "balmy forgiveness" to the winds, and advocated the creed of the sword. The scandalous means used to procure a verdict of guilty against Mitchel tore to tatters the last rag of the const.i.tution in Ireland. It was idle to dictate observance of the law which the government themselves were engaged in violating, and the _Nation_ was not the journal to brook the tyranny of the authorities. With a spirit that cannot be too highly praised, it called for the overthrow of the government that had sent Mitchel in chains into banishment, and summoned the people of Ireland to prepare to a.s.sert their rights by the only means now left them--the bullet and the pike. And the eyes of men whose hearts were "weary waiting for the fray," began to glisten as they read the burning words of poetry and prose in which the _Nation_ preached the gospel of liberty. It was to take its side by that journal, and to rival it in the boldness of its language and the spirit of its arguments, that the _Irish Felon_ was established; and it executed its mission well. "I do not love political agitation for its own sake," exclaimed Martin, in his opening address in the first number. "At best I regard it as a necessary evil; and if I were not convinced that my countrymen are determined on vindicating their rights, and that they really intend to free themselves, I would at once withdraw from the struggle and leave my native land for ever. I could not live in Ireland and derive my means of life as a member of the Irish community, without feeling a citizen's responsibilities in Irish public affairs. Those responsibilities involve the guilt of national robbery and murder--of a system which arrays the cla.s.ses of our people against each other's prosperity and very lives, like beasts of prey, or rather like famis.h.i.+ng sailors on a wreck--of the debas.e.m.e.nt and moral ruin of a people endowed by G.o.d with surpa.s.sing resources for the attainment of human happiness and human dignity. I cannot be loyal to a system of meanness, terror, and corruption, although it usurp the t.i.tle and a.s.sume the form of a 'government.' So long as such a 'government' presumes to injure and insult me, and those in whose prosperity I am involved, I must offer to it all the resistance in my power. But if I despaired of successful resistance, I would certainly remove myself from under such a 'government's' actual authority; that I do not exile myself is a proof that I hope to witness the overthrow, and a.s.sist in the overthrow, of the most abominable tyranny the world now groans under--the British Imperial system. To gain permission for the Irish people to care for their own lives, their own happiness and dignity--to abolish the political conditions which compel the cla.s.ses of our people to hate and to murder each other, and which compel the Irish people to hate the very name of the English--to end the reign of fraud, perjury, corruption, and 'government' butchery, and to make, law, order, and peace possible in Ireland, the _Irish Felon_ takes its place amongst the combatants in the holy war now waging in this island against foreign tyranny. In conducting it my weapons shall be--_the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me G.o.d_!" Such "open and avowed treason" as this could not long continue to be published. Before the third number the _Felon_ saw the light, a warrant for Mr. Martin's arrest was in the hands of the detectives, and its fifth was its last. On Sat.u.r.day, July 8th, Mr. Martin surrendered himself into custody, having kept out of the way for a few days to prevent his being tried, under the "gagging act," at the Commission sitting when the warrant was issued, and which adjourned until August--the time fixed for the insurrection--in the interim. On the same day, Duffy, Williams, and O'Doherty were arrested. Martin was imprisoned in Newgate, but he continued to write from within his cell for the _Felon_, and its last number, published on July 22nd, contains a spirited letter signed with his initials, which formed portion of the indictment against him on his trial. In this letter, Martin calls on his countrymen in impa.s.sioned words to "stand to their arms!" "Let them menace you," he writes from his dungeon, "with the hulks or the gibbet for daring to speak or write your love to Ireland. Let them threaten to mow you down with grape shot, as they ma.s.sacred your kindred with famine and plague. Spurn their brutal 'Acts of Parliament'--trample upon their lying proclamations--fear them not!"

On Tuesday, August 15th, John Martin's trial commenced in Green-street court-house, the indictment being for treason-felony. "Several of his tenantry," writes the Special Correspondent of the London _Morning Herald,_ "came up to town to be present at his trial, and, as they hoped, at his escape, for they could not bring themselves to believe that a man so amiable, so gentle, and so pious, as they had long known him, could be"--this is the Englishman's way of putting it--"an inciter to bloodshed. It is really melancholy," added the writer, "to hear the poor people of the neighbourhood of Loughorne speak of their benefactor.

He was ever ready to administer medicine and advice gratuitously to his poor neighbours and all who sought his a.s.sistance; and according to the reports I have received, he did an incalculable amount of good in his way. As a landlord he was beloved by his tenantry for his kindness and liberality, while from his suavity of manner and excellent qualities, he was a great favourite with the gentry around him."

At eight o'clock, p.m., on Thursday, August 17th, the jury came into court with a verdict of guilty against the prisoner, recommending him to mercy on the grounds that the letter on which he was convicted was written from the prison, and penned under exciting circ.u.mstances. On the following day, Mr. Martin was brought up to receive sentence, and asked--after the usual form--whether he had anything to say against the sentence being p.r.o.nounced? The papers of the time state that he appeared perfectly unmoved by the painful position in which he was placed--that he looked round the courthouse in a calm, composed, dignified manner, and then spoke the following reply in clear unfaltering tones:--

"My lords--I have no imputation to cast upon the bench, neither have I anything to charge the jury with, of unfairness towards me. I think the judges desired to do their duty honestly as upright judges and men; and that the twelve men who were put into the box, as I believe, 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 of the gentlemen connected with the arrangement of the jury-panel--nor against the Attorney-General, nor any other person engaged in the proceedings called my trial; _but, my lords, I consider that I have not been yet tried_. There have been certain formalities carried on here for three days regarding me, ending in a verdict of guilty: _but I have not been put upon my country_, as the const.i.tution said to exist in Ireland requires. Twelve of my countrymen, 'indifferently chosen,' have not been put into that 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. I believe they were put into that box because the parties conducting the prosecution knew their political sentiments were hostile to mine, and because the matter at issue here is a political question--a matter of opinion, and not a matter of fact. I have nothing more to say as to the trial, except to repeat that, having watched the conduct of the judges, I consider them upright and honest men. I have this to add, that as to the charge I make with respect to the const.i.tution of the panel and the selection of the jury, I have no legal evidence of the truth of my statement, but there is no one who has a moral doubt of it. Every person knows that what I have stated is the fact; and I would represent to the judges, most respectfully, that they, as upright and honourable men and judges, and as 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 in vindication of my character and motives after sentence is pa.s.sed."

Baron Pennefather--"No; we will not hear anything from you after sentence."

Chief Baron--"We cannot hear anything from you after sentence has been p.r.o.nounced."

Mr. Martin--"Then, my lords, permit me to say that, admitting the narrow and confined const.i.tutional doctrines which I have heard preached in this court to be right, _I am not guilty of the charge according to this act_. I did not intend to devise or levy war against the Queen or to depose the Queen. In the article of mine on which the jury framed their verdict of guilty, 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 a.s.sailants--even a.s.sailants that might come to attack them, unconst.i.tutionally and improperly using the Queen's name as their sanction. My object in all my proceedings has been simply to a.s.sist in establis.h.i.+ng the national independence of Ireland, for the benefit of all the people of Ireland--n.o.blemen, clergymen, judges, professional men--in fact, all Irishmen. I have sought that object: first, because I thought it was our right--because I think national independence is the right of the people of this country; and secondly, I admit that, being a man who loved retirement, I never would have engaged in politics did I not think it was necessary to do all in my power to make an end of the horrible scenes that this country presents--the pauperism, starvation, and crime, and vice, and hatred of all cla.s.ses 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 native 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. That is the reason I engaged in politics. I acknowledge, as the Solicitor-General has said, that I was but a weak a.s.sailant 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 written and said, and to rest my character on a fair and candid 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."

Then the judge proceeded to pa.s.s sentence. In the course of his remarks he referred to the recommendation to mercy which came from the jury, whereupon Mr. Martin broke in. "I beg your lords.h.i.+p's pardon," he said, "I cannot condescend to accept 'mercy,' where I believe I have been morally right; I want justice--not mercy." But he looked for it in vain.

"Transportation for ten years beyond the seas" is spoken by the lips of the judge, and the burlesque of justice is at an end. Mr. Martin heard the sentence with perfect composure and self-possession, though the faces of his brothers and friends standing by, showe signs of the deepest emotion. "Remove the prisoner," were the next words uttered, and then John Martin, the pure-minded, the high-souled, and the good, was borne off to the convict's cell in Newgate.

Amongst the friends who cl.u.s.tered round the dock in which the patriot leader stood, and watched the progress of his trial with beating hearts, was Mr. James Martin, one of the prisoner's brothers. During the three long weary days occupied by the trial, his post had been by his brother's side listening to the proceedings with the anxiety and solicitude which a brother alone can feel, and revealing by every line of his countenance the absorbing interest with which he regarded the issue. The verdict of the jury fell upon him with the bewildering shock of an avalanche. He was stunned, stupified, amazed; he could hardly believe that he had heard the fatal words aright, and that "guilty" had been the verdict returned. _He_ guilty! he whose life was studded by good deeds as stars stud the wintry sky; _he_ guilty, whose kindly heart had always a throb for the suffering and the unfortunate, whose hand was ever extended to s.h.i.+eld the oppressed, to succour the friendless, and to shelter the homeless and the needy; _he_ "inspired by the devil," whose career had been devoted to an attempt to redress the sufferings of his fellow-countrymen, and whose sole object in life seemed to be to abridge the sufferings of the Irish people, to plant the doctrines of peace and good-will in every heart, and to make Ireland the home of harmony and concord, by rendering her prosperous and free. It was a lie, a calumny, a brutal fabrication! It was more than his sense of justice could endure, it was more than his hot Northern blood could tolerate.

Beckoning a friend, he rushed with him into the street, and drove direct to the residence of Mr. Waterhouse, the foreman of the jury. The latter had barely returned from court, when he was waited upon by Mr. Martin, who indignantly charged him with having bullied the jury into recording a verdict of guilty--an accusation which current report made against him--and challenged the astonished juryman to mortal combat. Mr.

Waterhouse was horror-struck by the proposal, to which he gasped out in response, a threat to call in the police. He never heard of anything so terribly audacious. He, a loyal Castle tradesman, who had "well and truly" tried the case according to the recognised acceptance of the words, and who had "true deliverance made" after the fas.h.i.+on in favour with the crown; he whose "perspicuity, wisdom, impartiality," &c., had been appealed to and belauded so often by the Attorney-General, to be challenged to a hostile meeting, which might end, by leaving a bullet lodged in his invaluable body. The bare idea of it fairly took his breath away, and with the terrible vision of pistols and bloodshed before his mind, he rushed to the police office and had his indignant visitor arrested. On entering the Green-street courthouse next day, Mr.

Waterhouse told his woeful story to the judge. The judge was appalled by the disclosure; Mr. Martin was brought before him and sentenced to a month's imprisonment, besides being bound over to keep the peace towards Mr. Waterhouse and everyone else for a period of seven years.

A short time after Mr. John Martin's conviction, he and Kevin Izod O'Doherty were s.h.i.+pped off to Van Diemen's Land on board the "Elphinstone," where they arrived in the month of November, 1849.

O'Brien, Meagher, MacMa.n.u.s, and O'Donoghue had arrived at the same destination a few days before. Mr. Martin resided in the district a.s.signed to him until the year 1854, when a pardon, on the condition of their not returning to Ireland or Great Britain was granted to himself, O'Brien, and O'Doherty, the only political prisoners in the country at that time--MacMa.n.u.s, Meagher, O'Donoghue, and Mitchel having previously escaped. Mr. O'Brien and Mr. Martin sailed together in the "Norna" from Melbourne for Ceylon, at which port they parted, Mr. O'Brien turning northward to Madras, while Mr. Martin came on _via_ Aden, Cairo, Alexandria, Malta, and Ma.r.s.eilles to Paris, where he arrived about the end of October, 1854. In June, 1856, the government made the pardon of Messrs. Martin, O'Brien, and O'Doherty, unconditional, and Mr. Martin then hastened to pay a visit to his family from whom he had been separated during eight years. After a stay of a few months he went back to Paris, intending to reside abroad during the remainder of his life, because he could not voluntarily live under English rule in Ireland. But the death of a near and dear member of his family, in October, 1858, imposed on him duties which he could only discharge by residence in his own home, and compelled him to terminate his exile. Living since then in his own land he has taken care to renew and continue his protest against the domination of England in Ireland. In January, 1864, acting on the suggestion of many well-known nationalists, he established in Dublin a Repeal a.s.sociation called "The National League." The peculiar condition of Irish politics at the time was unfavourable to any large extension of the society; but notwithstanding this circ.u.mstance the League by its meetings and its publications rendered good service to the cause of Irish freedom. Mr. Martin has seen many who once were loud and earnest in their professions of patriotism lose heart and grow cold in the service of their country, but he does not weary of the good work.

Patiently and zealously he still continues to labour in the national cause; his mission is not ended yet; and with a constancy which lapse of years and change of scene have not affected, he still clings to the hope of Ireland's regeneration, and with voice and pen supports the principles of patriotism for which he suffered. The debt that Ireland owes to him will not easily be acquitted, and if the bulk of his co-religionists are no longer to be found within the national camp, we can almost forgive them their shortcomings, when we remember that, within our own generation, the Presbyterians of Ulster have given to Ireland two such men as John Martin and John Mitchel.

Mr. Martin's name will re-appear farther on in another portion of this work, for the occasion of which we have here treated was not the only one on which his patriotic words and actions brought upon him the attention of "the authorities," and subjected him to the troubles of a state prosecution.

W.S. O'BRIEN.

Loudly across the dark flowing tide of the Liffey, rolled the cheers of welcome and rejoicing that burst from Conciliation Hall on that memorable day in January, '44, when William Smith O'Brien first stood beneath its roof, and presided over a meeting of Repealers. Many a time had the walls of that historic building given back the cheers of the thousands who gathered there to revel in the promises of the Liberator; many a time had they vibrated to the enthusiasm of the Irishmen who met there to celebrate the progress of the movement which was to give freedom and prosperity to Ireland; but not even in those days of monster meetings and popular demonstrations had a warmer glow of satisfaction flushed the face of O'Connell, than when the descendant of the Munster Kings took his place amongst the Dublin Repealers. "I find it impossible," exclaimed the great Tribune, "to give adequate expression to the delight with which I hail Mr. O'Brien's presence in the a.s.sociation. He now occupies his natural position--the position which centuries ago was occupied by his ancestor, Brian Boru. Whatever may become of _me_, it is a consolation to remember that Ireland will not be without a friend such as William Smith O'Brien, who combining all the modern endowments of a highly-cultured mind, with intellectual gifts of the highest order, nervous eloquence, untiring energy, fervid love of country, and every other high qualification of a popular leader, is now where his friends would ever wish to see him--at the head of the Irish people." Six weeks before, a banquet had been given in Limerick to celebrate O'Brien's adhesion to the national cause, and on this occasion, too, O'Connell bore generous testimony to the value and importance of his accession. "His presence," said the Emanc.i.p.ator, in proposing Mr. O'Brien's health, "cannot prevent me here from expressing on behalf of the universal people of Ireland, their admiration and delight at his conversion to their cause. Receive the benefactor of Ireland, as such a benefactor should be received. It is certain that our country will never be deserted as long as she has William Smith O'Brien as one of her leaders."

[Ill.u.s.tration: KEVIN I. O'DOHERTY. THOMAS F. MEAGHER. TERENCE B.

McMa.n.u.s]

There was much to account for the tumult of rejoicing which hailed Smith O'Brien's entry within the ranks of the popular party. His lineage, his position, his influence, his stainless character, his abilities, and his worth, combined to fit him for the place which O'Connell a.s.signed him, and to rally round him the affection and allegiance of the Irish people.

No monarch in the world could trace his descent from a longer line of ill.u.s.trious men; beside the roll of ancestry to which he could point, the oldest of European dynasties were things of a day. When the towering Pyramids that overlook the Nile were still new; before the Homeric ballads had yet been chanted in the streets of an Eastern city; before the foundations of the Parthenon were laid on the Acropolis; before the wandering sons of aeneas found a home in the valley of the Tiber, the chieftains of his house enjoyed the conqueror's fame, and his ancestors swayed the sceptre of Erie. Nor was he unworthy of the name and the fame of the O'Briens of Kincora. Clear sighted and discerning; deeply endowed with calm sagacity and penetrating observance; pure minded, eloquent, talented and chivalrous; he comprised within his nature the truest elements of the patriot, the scholar, and the statesman. Unfaltering attachment to the principles of justice, unswerving obedience to the dictates of honour, unalterable loyalty to rect.i.tude and duty; these were the characteristics that distinguished him; and these were the qualities that cast their redeeming light round his failings and his errors, and wrung from the bitterest of his foes the tribute due to suffering worth. If n.o.bility of soul, if earnestness of heart and singleness of purpose, if unflinching and self-sacrificing patriotism, allied to zeal, courage, and ability, could have redeemed the Irish cause, it would not be left to us to mourn for it to-day; and instead of the melancholy story we have now to relate, it might he given to us to chronicle the regeneration of the Irish nation.

William Smith O'Brien was born, at Dromoland, County Clare, on the 17th of October, 1803. He was the second son of Sir Edward O'Brien, and on the death of his kinsman, the last Marquis of Th.o.m.ond, his eldest brother became Baron of Inchiquin. He was educated at Harrow and Trinity College, Cambridge; but his English education, however much it might have coloured his views during boyhood, did not seriously affect his innate love of justice, or warp the patriotic feelings which were developed in his earliest years. The a.s.sociations into which he was cast, the tone of the society in which he moved, the politics of his family, and the modern traditions of his house, combined to throw him into the ranks of the people's enemies; and that these influences were not altogether barren of results is proved by the fact that O'Brien entered Parliament in 1826 as an Anti-Repealer, and exerted himself to prevent the return of O'Connell at the memorable election for Clare. But O'Brien was no factious opponent of the national interests; even while he acted thus, he had the welfare of his country sincerely at heart; he steered according to his lights, and when time and experience showed the falseness of his views, he did not hesitate to renounce them. To this period of his political career Mr. O'Brien often adverted in after life, with the frankness and candour that distinguished him. "When the proposal to seek for a Repeal of the Act of Union was first seriously entertained," said O'Brien, "I used all the influence I possessed to discountenance the attempt. I did not consider that the circ.u.mstances and prospects of Ireland then justified the agitation of this question.

Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation had been recently achieved, and I sincerely believed that from that epoch a new course of policy would be adopted towards Ireland. I persuaded myself that thenceforth the statesmen of Great Britain would spare no effort to repair the evils produced by centuries of misgovernment--that the Catholic and Protestant would be admitted to share on equal terms in all the advantages resulting from our const.i.tutional form of government--that all traces of an ascendancy of race or creed would be effaced--that the inst.i.tutions of Ireland would be gradually moulded so as to harmonise with the opinions of its inhabitants, and that in regard of political rights, legislation for both kingdoms would be based upon the principle of perfect equality."

Fourteen years had elapsed from the date of Catholic Emanc.i.p.ation, when O'Brien startled the aristocrats of Ireland by renouncing his allegiance to their party, and throwing himself heart and soul into the vanguard of the people. He told his reasons for the change in bold convincing words.

He had seen that his expectations of justice were false and delusive.

"The feelings of the Irish nation," he said, "have been exasperated by every species of irritation and insult; every proposal tending to develop the sources of our industry--to raise the character and improve the condition of our population, has been discountenanced, distorted, or rejected. Ireland, instead of taking its place as an integral portion of the great empire, which the valour of her sons has contributed to win, has been treated as a dependent tributary province; and at this moment, after forty-three years of nominal union, the affections of the two nations are so entirely alienated from each other, that England trusts for the maintenance of their connection, not to the attachment of the Irish people, but to the bayonets which menace our bosoms, and the cannon which she has planted in all our strongholds."

The prospects of the Repeal movement were not at their brightest when O'Brien entered Conciliation Hall. In England, and in Ireland too, the influence of O'Connell was on the wane, and with the dispersion of the mult.i.tudes that flocked on that Sunday morning in October, 1843, to listen to the Liberator on the plains of Clontarf, the peaceful policy which he advocated received its death blow. Over O'Connell himself, and some of the most outspoken of his a.s.sociates, a State prosecution was impending; and the arm of the government was already stretched out to crush the agitation whose object they detested, and whose strength they had begun to fear. The accession of O'Brien, however, the prestige of his name, and the influence of his example, was expected to do much towards reviving the drooping fortunes of the a.s.sociation. Nor was the antic.i.p.ation illusory. From the day on which O'Brien became a Repealer, down to the date of the secession, the strongest prop of the Conciliation Hall was his presence and support; he failed indeed to counteract the corrupt influences that gnawed at the vitals of the a.s.sociation and ultimately destroyed it; but while he remained within its ranks, the redeeming influence of his genius, his patriotism, and his worth, preserved it from the extinction towards which it was hastening.

At an early date the penetrating mind of O'Brien detected the existence of the evil which was afterwards to transform Conciliation Hall into a market for place hunters. "I apprehend," said he, in a remarkable speech delivered in January, '46, "more danger to Repeal from the subtle influence of a Whig administration, than from the coercive measures of the Tories." And he was right. Day by day, the subtle influence which he dreaded did its blighting work; and the success of those who sought the destruction of the Repeal a.s.sociation through the machinery of bribes and places was already apparent, when on the 27th of July, 1846, O'Brien, accompanied by Mitchel, Meagher, Duffy, and others arose in sorrow and indignation, and quitted the Conciliation Hall for ever.

Six months later the Irish Confederation held its first meeting in the Round Room of the Rotundo. Meagher, Mitchel, Doheny, O'Brien, O'Gorman, Martin, and McGee were amongst the speakers; and amidst the ringing cheers of the densely thronged meeting, the establishment was decreed of the Irish Confederation, for the purpose--as the resolution declared--"of protecting our national interests, and obtaining the Legislative Independence of Ireland by the force of opinion, by the combination of all cla.s.ses of Irishmen, and by the exercise of all the political, social, and moral influence within our reach." It will be seen that the means by which the Confederates proposed to gain their object, did not differ materially from the programme of the Repeal a.s.sociation. But there was this distinction. Against place-hunting, and everything savouring of trafficking with the government, the Confederates resolutely set their faces; and in the next place, while prescribing to themselves nothing but peaceful and legal means for the accomplishment of their object, they scouted the ridiculous doctrine, that "liberty was not worth the shedding of a single drop of blood," and that circ.u.mstances might arise under which resort to the arbitration of the sword would be righteous and justifiable. In time, however, the Confederates took up a bolder and more dangerous position. As early as May, 1846, Lord John Russell spoke of the men who wrote in the pages of the _Nation_, and who subsequently became the leaders of the Confederation, "as a party looking to disturbance as its means, and having separation from England as its object." The description was false at the time, but before two years had elapsed its application became more accurate. A few men there were like Mitchel, who from the birth of the Confederation, and perhaps before it, abandoned all expectation of redress through the medium of Const.i.tutional agitation; but it was not until the flames of revolution had wrapped the nations of the Continent in their fiery folds--until the barricades were up in every capital from Madrid to Vienna--and until the students' song of freedom was mingled with the paean of victory on many a field of death--that the hearts of the Irish Confederates caught the flame, and that revolution, and revolution alone, became the goal of their endeavours. When Mitchel withdrew from the Confederation in March, 1848, the principles of const.i.tutional action were still in the ascendancy; when he rejoined it a month later, the cry "to the registries," was superseded by fiery appeals summoning the people to arms. In the first week of April, the doctrine which John Mitchel had long been propounding, found expression in the leading columns of the _Nation_:--"Ireland's necessity," said Duffy, "demands the desperate remedy of revolution." A few weeks later, the same declaration was made in the very citadel of the enemy's power.

It was...o...b..ien who spoke, and his audience was the British House of Commons. With Messrs. Meagher and Hollywood, he had visited Paris to present an address of congratulation on behalf of the Irish people to the Republican government; and on taking his seat in the House of Commons after his return, he found himself charged by the Ministers of the Crown, with having gone to solicit armed intervention from France on behalf of the disaffected people of Ireland. O'Brien replied in a speech such as never was heard before or since within the walls of the House of Commons. In the midst of indescribable excitement and consternation, he proceeded to declare in calm deliberative accents--"that if he was to be arraigned as a criminal, he would gladly endure the most ignominious death that could be inflicted on him rather than witness the sufferings and indignities he had seen inflicted by the British legislature on his countrymen. If it is treason," he exclaimed, "to profess disloyalty to this House and to the government of Ireland, by the parliament of Great Britain--if that be treason, I avow it. Nay, more, I say it shall be the study of my life to overthrow the dominion of this Parliament over Ireland." The yells and shouts with which these announcements were received shook the building in which he stood, and obliged him to remain silent for several moments after the delivery of each sentence; but when the uproar began to subside, the ringing tones of O'Brien rose again upon the air, and with the stoicism of a martyr, and the imperturable courage of a hero, he proceeded. "Irish Freedom," he said, "must be won by Irish courage. Every statesman in the civilized globe looks upon Ireland as you look upon Poland, and upon your connection as entirely a.n.a.logous to that of Russia with Poland. I am here to-night to tell you, that if you refuse our claims to legislative independence, you will have to encounter during the present year, the chance of a Republic in Ireland."

O'Brien returned to Ireland more endeared than ever to the hearts of his countrymen. And now the game was fairly afoot. Government and people viewed each other with steady and defiant glare, and girded up their loins for the struggle. On the one side the Confederate clubs were organized with earnestness and vigour, and the spirit of the people awakened by a succession of stirring and glowing appeals. "What if we fail?" asked the _Nation_; and it answered the question by declaring unsuccessful resistance under the circ.u.mstances preferable to a degrading submission. "What if we _don't_ fail?" was its next inquiry, and the answer was well calculated to arouse the patriots of Ireland to action. On the other hand the authorities were not idle. Arm's Bills, Coercion Acts, and prosecutions followed each other in quick succession.

Mitchel was arrested, convicted, and sent to Bermuda. Duffy, Martin, Meagher, Doheny, O'Doherty, and M'Gee were arrested--all of whom, except Duffy and Martin, were shortly afterwards liberated. Duffy's trial was fixed for August, and this was the time appointed by the Confederates for the outbreak of the insurrection. There were some who advocated a more prompt mode of action. At a meeting of the Confederates held on July 19th, after the greater portion of the country had been proclaimed, it was warmly debated whether an immediate appeal to arms should not be counselled. O'Brien and Dillon advocated delay; the harvest had not yet been reaped in; the clubs were not sufficiently organized throughout the country, and the people might easily conceal their arms until the hour arrived for striking a decisive blow. Against this policy a few of the more impetuous members protested. "You will wait," exclaimed Joe Brennan, "until you get arms from heaven, and angels to pull the triggers." But his advice was disregarded; and the meeting broke up with the understanding that with the first glance of the harvest sun, the fires of insurrection were to blaze upon the hill tops of Ireland, and that meanwhile organization and preparation were to engross the attention of the leaders. On Friday, July 21st, a war directory--consisting of Dillon, Reilly, O'Gorman, Meagher, and Father Kenyon was appointed; and on the following morning O'Gorman started for Limerick, Doheny for Cashel, and O'Brien for Wexford, to prepare the people for the outbreak.

It was war to the knife, and every one knew it. The forces of the government in Ireland were hourly increased in Dublin--every available and commanding position was occupied and fortified. "In the Bank of Ireland," says one who watched the progress of affairs with attentive gaze, "soldiers as well as cas.h.i.+ers were ready to settle up accounts.

The young artists of the Royal Hibernian Academy and Royal Dublin Society had to quit their easels to make way for the garrison. The squares of old Trinity College resounded with the tramp of daily reviews; the Custom House at last received some occupation by being turned into a camp. The Linen Hall, the Rotundo, Holmes' Hotel, Alborough House, Dycer's Stables, in Stephen's-green--every inst.i.tution, literary, artistic, and commercial, was confiscated to powder and pipe-clay. The barracks were provisioned as if for a siege; cavalry horses were shod with plates of steel, to prevent their being injured and thrown into disorder by broken bottles, iron spikes, or the like; and the infantry were occupied in familiarizing themselves with the art of fusilading footpaths and thoroughfares. Arms were taken from the people, and the houses of loyal families stocked with the implements of war."

But the national leaders had calculated on the preparations of the government; they knew the full measure of its military power, and were not afraid to face it; but there was one blow which they had not foreseen, and which came on them with the shock of a thunderbolt. On the very morning that O'Brien left for Wexford, the news reached Dublin that a warrant had been issued for his arrest, and that the suspension of the _Habeas Corpus_ Act was resolved on by the government. "It appears strangely unaccountable to me," was Meagher's reflection in after years, "that whilst a consideration of our position, our project, and our resources was taking place; whilst the stormy future on which we were entering formed the subject of the most anxious conjecture, and the danger of it fell like wintry shadows around us; it seems strangely unaccountable to me that not an eye was turned to the facilities for the counteraction of our designs which the government had at their disposal; that not a word was uttered in antic.i.p.ation of that bold astounding measure--the suspension of the _Habeas Corpus_ Act--the announcement of which broke upon us so suddenly. The overlooking of it was a fatal inadvertance. Owing to it we were routed without a struggle, and were led into captivity without glory. We suffer not for a rebellion, but a blunder."

The few of the Confederate leaders at large in Dublin at the time--Duffy, Martin, Williams, and O'Doherty were in Newgate--held a hurried council, and their plans were speedily formed. They were to join Smith O'Brien at once, and commence the insurrection in Kilkenny. On the night of Sat.u.r.day, July 22nd, M'Gee left for Scotland to prepare the Irishmen of Glasgow for action; and Meagher, Dillon, Reilly, M'Ma.n.u.s, O'Donoghue, and Leyne started southwards to place themselves in communication with O'Brien. A week later the last of the national papers was suppressed, and the _Nation_ went down, sword in hand as a warrior might fall, with the words of defiance upon its lips, and a prayer for the good old cause floating upwards with its latest breath.