When Emmet was dead, and the plan to which he devoted his fortune, his
talents, and his life, had sunk in failure, the cause of Irish
independence appeared finally lost, and the cry, more than once repeated
in after times, that "now, indeed, the last bolt of Irish disaffection
has been sped, and that there would never again be an Irish rebellion,"
rung loudly from the exulting enemies of Ireland. The hearts of the
people seemed broken by the weight of the misfortunes and calamities
that overwhelmed them. The hopes which had brightened their stormy path,
and enabled them to endure the oppression to which they were subjected
by expectations of a glorious change, flickered no longer amidst the
darkness. The efforts of the insurgents were everywhere drowned in
blood; the hideous memories of '98 were brought up anew; full of bitter
thoughts, exasperated, humiliated, and despondent, the people brooded
over their wretched fate, and sullenly submitted to the reign of terror
which was inaugurated amongst them. Little had the Irish patriots to
look forward to in that dark hour of suffering and disappointment. A
nightmare of blood and violence weighed down the spirits of the people;
a stupor appeared to have fallen on the nation; and though time might be
trusted to arouse them from the trance, they had suffered another loss,
not so easily repaired, in the death and dispersion of their leaders.
Where now should they find the Moses to lead them from the land of
captivity? Tone, Fitzgerald, Emmet, Bond, M'Cracken, the Sheareses--all
were dead. M'Nevin, Neilson, and O'Connor were in exile. Heavily and
relentlessly the arm of vengeance had fallen on them one by one; but the
list was not even then completed. There was yet another victim to fall
before the altar of liberty, and the sacrifice which commenced with Orr
did not conclude until Thomas Russell had perished on the gallows of
Downpatrick.
The importance of the part which Thomas Russell fills in the history of
the United Irishmen, the worth of his character, the purity and nobility
of his sentiments, and the spirit of uncompromising patriotism displayed
in his last address, would render unpardonable the omission of his name
from such a work as this. "I mean to make my trial," said Russell, "and
the last of my life, if it is to close now, as serviceable to the cause
of liberty as I can," and he kept his word. To-day, we try in some
slight way to requite that fidelity which endured unto death, by
rescuing Thomas Russell's name from oblivion, and recalling his services
and virtues to the recollection of his countrymen.
He was born at Betsborough, Dunnahane, in the parish of Kilshanick,
county Cork, on the 21st November, 1767. His father was an officer in
the British army, who had fought against the Irish Brigade in the
memorable battle of Fontenoy, and who died in a high situation in the
Royal Hospital at Kilmainham. Thomas, the youngest of his three sons,
was educated for the Protestant Church; but his inclinations sought a
different field of action, and at the age of fifteen he left for India
as a volunteer, where he served with his brother, Ambrose, whose
gallantry in battle called down commendation from the English king.
Thomas Russell quitted India after five years' service, and his return
is ascribed to the disgust and indignation which filled him on
witnessing the extortions, the cruelties, the usurpations, and
brutalities, which were carried out and sanctioned by the government
under which he served. He left Ireland burdened with few fixed political
principles and little knowledge of the world; he returned a full grown
man, imbued with the opinions which he never afterwards abandoned. He
was then, we are told, a model of manly beauty, one of those favoured
individuals whom we cannot pass in the street without being guilty of
the rudeness of staring in the face while passing, and turning round to
look at the receding figure. Though more than six feet high, his
majestic stature was scarcely observed, owing to the exquisite symmetry
of his form. Martial in his gait and demeanour, his appearance was not
altogether that of a soldier. His dark and steady eye, compressed lip,
and some what haughty bearing, were occasionally strongly indicative of
the camp; but in general the classic contour of his finely formed head,
the expression of sweetness that characterised his smile, and the
benevolence that beamed in his fine countenance, seemed to mark him out
as one that was destined to be the ornament, grace, and blessing of
private life. His manners were those of the finished gentleman, combined
with that native grace which nothing but superiority of intellect can
give; he was naturally reserved and retiring in disposition, and his
private life was distinguished by eminent purity and an unostentatious
devotion to the precepts of religion.
Such was Thomas Russell when he made the acquaintance of Theobald Wolfe
Tone in Dublin. There is no doubt that the views and opinions of Tone
made a profound impression on young Russell; it is equally certain, on
the other hand, that Tone learned to love and esteem his new friend,
whose sentiments were so much in accordance with his own. Throughout
Tone's journal we find constant references to Thomas Russell, whom he
always places with Thomas Addis Emmet at the head of his list of
friends. Early in 1791 Russell proceeded to Belfast to join the 64th
Regiment, in which he had obtained a commission; before leaving Dublin
he appears to have become a member of the Society of United Irishmen,
and in Belfast he soon won the friendship and shared the councils of the
patriotic men who were labouring for Ireland in that city.
While in Belfast, Russell fell into pecuniary embarrassments. His
generous and confiding nature induced him to go bail for a false friend,
and he found himself one morning obliged to meet a claim for £200, which
he had no means of discharging except by the sale of his commission.
Russell sold out and retired to Dungannon, where he lived for some time
on the residue of the money thus obtained, and during this period he was
appointed a Justice of the Peace for the county of Tyrone. After a short
experience of "Justices' justice" in the North, he retired from the
bench through motives alike creditable to his head and heart. "I cannot
reconcile it to my conscience," he exclaimed one day, "to sit on a bench
where the practice exists of inquiring what religion a person is before
investigating the charge against him." Russell returned, after taking
this step, to Belfast, where he was appointed to a situation in the
public library of the town, and where he became a regular contributor to
the organ of the Ulster patriots, the _Northern Star_.
In 1796 he was appointed by the United Irishmen to the supreme military
command in the county Down, a post for which his military experience not
less than his personal influence fitted him, but his political career
was soon afterwards interrupted by his arrest on the 26th of September,
1796. Russell was removed to Dublin, and lodged in Newgate Prison; his
arrest filled the great heart of Tone, who was then toiling for his
country in France, with sorrow and dismay. "It is impossible," he says
in his journal, "to conceive the effect this misfortune has on my mind.
If we are not in Ireland in time to extricate him he is lost, for the
government will move heaven and earth to ensure his condemnation. Good
God!" he adds, "if Russell and Neilson fall, where shall I find two
others to replace them?" During the eventful months that intervened
between the date of his arrest and the 19th of March, 1799, poor Russell
remained chafing his imprisoned soul, filled with patriotic passion and
emotion, in his prison cell in Kilmainham. On the latter date, when the
majority of his associates were dead, and their followers scattered and
disheartened, he was transferred to Fort George in Scotland, where he
spent three years more in captivity. The government had no specific
charge against him, but they feared his influence and distrusted his
intentions, and they determined to keep him a prisoner while a chance
remained of his exerting his power against them. No better illustration
of Russell's character and principles could be afforded than that
supplied in the following extract from one of the letters written by him
during his incarceration in Fort George:--"To the people of Ireland," he
writes, addressing an Irish friend and sympathiser, "I am responsible
for my actions; amidst the uncertainties of life this may be my
valedictory letter; what has occasioned the failure of the cause is
useless to speculate on--Providence orders all things for the best. _I
am sure the people will never abandon the cause; I am equally sure it
will succeed_. I trust men will see," he adds, referring to the infidel
views then unhappily prevalent, "that the only true basis of liberty is
morality, and the only stable basis of morality is religion."
In 1802 the government, failing to establish any distinct charge against
Russell, set him at liberty, and he at once repaired to Paris, where he
met Robert Emmet, who was then preparing to renew the effort of
Fitzgerald and Wolfe Tone. Time had not changed, nor suffering damped,
the patriotic impulses of Thomas Russell; he entered heartily into the
plans of young Emmet, and when the latter left for Ireland in November,
1802, to prosecute his hazardous enterprise, it was with the full
understanding that Russell would stand by his side in the post of
danger, and with him perish or succeed. In accordance with this
arrangement, Russell followed Robert Emmet to Dublin, where he arrived
so skilfully disguised that even his own family failed to recognise
him. Emmet's plans for the outbreak in Dublin were matured when Russell,
with a trusty companion, was despatched northwards to summon the Ulster
men to action. Buoyant in spirit, and filled with high expectation, he
entered on his mission, but he returned to Dublin a week later prostrate
in spirit and with a broken heart. One of his first acts on arriving in
Belfast was to issue a proclamation, in which, as "General-in-Chief of
the Northern District," he summoned the people of Ulster to action.
The North, however, refused to act. It was the old, old story. Belfast
resolved on waiting "to see what the South would do," and the South
waited for Belfast. Disgusted and disappointed, Russell quitted the
Northern capital and proceeded to Antrim, where at least he thought he
might expect to find cordial co-operation; but fresh disappointments
awaited him, and with a load of misery at his heart, such as he had
never felt before, Russell returned to Dublin, where he lived in
seclusion, until arrested by Major Sirr and his myrmidons on the 9th of
September, 1803. A reward of £1,500 had been offered for his
apprehension. We learn on good authority that the ruffianly town-major,
on arresting him, seized the unfortunate patriot rudely by the
neck-cloth, whereupon, Russell, a far more powerful man than his
assailant, flung him aside, and drawing a pistol, exclaimed--"I will not
be treated with indignity." Sirr parleyed for a while; a file of
soldiers was meanwhile summoned to his aid, and Russell was borne off in
irons a prisoner to the Castle. While undergoing this second captivity a
bold attempt was made by his friends to effect his liberation by bribing
one of the gaolers; the plot, however, broke down, and Russell never
breathed the air of freedom again. While awaiting his trial--that trial
which he knew could have but one termination, the death of a
felon--Russell addressed a letter to one of his friends outside, in
which the following noble passage, the fittest epitaph to be engraved on
his tombstone, occurs:--"I mean to make my trial," he writes, "and the
last of my life, if it is to close now, as serviceable to the cause of
liberty as I can. _I trust my countrymen will ever adhere to it:_ I know
it will soon prosper. When the country is free," he adds--that it would
be free he never learned to doubt--"I beg they may lay my remains with
my father in a private manner, and pay the few debts I owe. I have only
to beg of my countrymen to remember that the cause of liberty is the
cause of virtue, _which I trust they will never abandon_. May God bless
and prosper them, and when power comes into their hands I entreat them
to use it with moderation. May God and the Saviour bless them all."
Russell was taken to Downpatrick, escorted by a strong force of cavalry,
where he was lodged in the governor's rooms, preparatory to being tried
in that town by a Special Commission. While in prison in Downpatrick he
addressed a letter to Miss M'Cracken, a sister of Henry Joy M'Cracken,
one of the insurgent leaders of 1798, in which he speaks as follows:
"Humanly speaking, I expect to be found guilty and immediately executed.
As this may be my last letter, I shall only say that I did my best for
my country and for mankind. I have no wish to die, but far from
regretting its loss in such a cause, had I a thousand lives I would
willingly risk or lose them in it. Be assured, liberty will in the midst
of those storms be established, and God will wipe the tears from all
eyes."
The sad anticipations expressed by Russell were but too fully borne out.
There was short shrift in those days for Irishmen accused of treason,
and the verdict of guilty, which he looked forward to with so much
resignation, was delivered before the last rays of the sun which rose on
the morning of the trial had faded in the gloaming. It was sworn that he
had attended treasonable meetings and distributed green uniforms; that
he asked those who attended them, "if they did not desire to get rid of
the Sassanaghs;" that he spoke of 30,000 stands of arms from France, but
said if France should fail them, "forks, spades, shovels, and pickaxes"
would serve that purpose. It was useless to struggle against such
testimony, palpably false and distorted as it was in some parts, and
Russell decided on cutting short the proceedings. "I shall not trouble
my lawyers," he said, "to make any statement in my case. There are but
three possible modes of defence--firstly, by calling witnesses to prove
the innocence of my conduct; secondly, by calling them to impeach the
credit of opposite witnesses, or by proving an _alibi_. As I can resort
to none of those modes of defence without involving others, I consider
myself precluded from any." Previous to the Judge's charge, the prisoner
asked--"If it was not permitted to persons in his situation to say a few
words, as he wished to give his valedictory advice to his countrymen in
as concise a manner as possible, being well convinced how speedy the
transition was from that vestibule of the grave to the scaffold." He was
told in reply, "that he would have an opportunity of expressing
himself," and when the time did come, Russell advanced to the front of
the dock, and spoke in a clear, firm tone of voice, as follows:--
"Before I address myself to this audience, I return my sincere thanks
to my learned counsel for the exertions they have made, in which they
displayed so much talent. I return my thanks to the gentlemen on the
part of the crown, for the accommodation and indulgence I have
received during my confinement. I return my thanks to the gentlemen
of the jury, for the patient investigation they have afforded my
case; and I return my thanks to the court, for the attention and
politeness they have shown me during my trial. As to my political
sentiments, I shall, in as brief a manner as possible (for I do not
wish to engross the time of the court), say a few words. I look back
to the last thirteen years of my life, the period with which I have
interfered with the transactions of Ireland, with entire
satisfaction; though for my share in them I am now about to die--the
gentlemen of the jury having, by their verdict, put the seal of truth
on the evidence against me. Whether, at this time, and the country
being situated as it is, it be safe to inflict the punishment of
death upon me for the offence I am charged with, I leave to the
gentlemen who conduct the prosecution. My death, perhaps, may be
useful in deterring others from following my example. It may serve,
on the other hand, as a memorial to others, and on trying occasions
it may inspire them with courage. I can now say, as far as my
judgment enabled me, I acted for the good of my country and of the
world. It may be presumptuous for me to deliver my opinions here as
a statesman, but as the government have singled me out as a leader,
and given me the appellation of 'General,' I am in some degree
entitled to do so. To me it is plain that all things are verging
towards a change, when all shall be of one opinion. In ancient times,
we read of great empires having their rise and their fall, and yet do
the old governments proceed as if all were immutable. From the time I
could observe and reflect, I perceived that there were two kinds of
laws--the laws of the State and the laws of God--frequently clashing
with each other; by the latter kind, I have always endeavoured to
regulate my conduct; but that laws of the former kind do exist in
Ireland I believe no one who hears me can deny. That such laws have
existed in former times many and various examples clearly evince. The
Saviour of the world suffered by the Roman laws--by the same laws His
Apostles were put to the torture, and deprived of their lives in His
cause. By my conduct I do not consider that I have incurred any moral
guilt. I have committed no moral evil. I do not want the many and
bright examples of those gone before me; but did I want this
encouragement, the recent example of a youthful hero--a martyr in the
cause of liberty--who has just died for his country, would inspire
me. I have descended into the vale of manhood. I have learned to
estimate the reality and delusions of this world; _he_ was surrounded
by everything which could endear this world to him--in the bloom of
youth, with fond attachments, and with all the fascinating charms of
health and innocence; to his death I look back even in this moment
with rapture. I have travelled much, and seen various parts of the
world, and I think the Irish are the most virtuous nation on the face
of the earth--they are a good and brave people, and had I a thousand
lives I would yield them in their service. If it be the will of God
that I suffer for that with which I stand charged, I am perfectly
resigned to His holy will and dispensation. I do not wish to trespass
much more on the time of those that hear me, and did I do so an
indisposition which has seized on me since I came into court would
prevent my purpose. Before I depart from this for a better world I
wish to address myself to the landed aristocracy of this country. The
word 'aristocracy' I do not mean to use as an insulting epithet, but
in the common sense of the expression.
"Perhaps, as my voice may now be considered as a voice crying from
the grave, what I now say may have some weight. I see around me many,
who during the last years of my life have disseminated principles for
which I am now to die. Those gentlemen, who have all the wealth and
the power of the country in their hands, I strongly advise, and
earnestly exhort, to pay attention to the poor--by the poor I mean
the labouring class of the community, their tenantry and dependents.
I advise them for their good to look into their grievances, to
sympathize in their distress, and to spread comfort and happiness
around their dwellings. It might be that they may not hold their
power long, but at all events to attend to the wants and distresses
of the poor is their truest interest. If they hold their power, they
will thus have friends around them; if they lose it, their fall will
be gentle, and I am sure unless they act thus they can never be
happy. I shall now appeal to the right honourable gentleman in whose
hands the lives of the other prisoners are, and entreat that he will
rest satisfied with my death, and let that atone for those errors
into which I may have been supposed to have deluded others. I trust
the gentleman will restore them to their families and friends. If he
shall do so, I can assure him that the breeze which conveys to him
the prayers and blessings of their wives and children will be more
grateful than that which may be tainted with the stench of putrid
corpses, or carrying with it the cries of the widow and the orphan.
Standing as I do in the presence of God and of man, I entreat him to
let my life atone for the faults of all, and that my blood alone may
flow.
"If I am then to die, I have therefore two requests to make. The
first is, that as I have been engaged in a work possibly of some
advantage to the world, I may be indulged with three days for its
completion; secondly, that as there are those ties which even death
cannot sever, and as there are those who may have some regard for
what will remain of me after death, I request that my remains,
disfigured as they will be, may be delivered after the execution of
the sentence to those dear friends, that they may be conveyed to the
ground where my parents are laid, and where those faithful few may
have a consecrated spot over which they may be permitted to grieve. I
have now to declare, when about to pass into the presence of Almighty
God, that I feel no enmity in my mind to any being, none to those who
have borne testimony against me, and none to the jury who have
pronounced the verdict of my death."
The last request of Russell was refused, and he was executed twelve
hours after the conclusion of the trial. At noon, on the 21st of
October, 1803, he was borne pinioned to the place of execution. Eleven
regiments of soldiers were concentrated in the town to overawe the
people and defeat any attempt at rescue; yet even with this force at
their back, the authorities were far from feeling secure. The interval
between the trial and execution was so short that no preparation could
be made for the erection of a scaffold, except the placing of some
barrels under the gateway of the main entrance to the prison, with
planks placed upon them as a platform, and others sloping up from the
ground, by which it was ascended. On the ground hard by, were placed a
sack of sawdust, an axe, a block, and a knife. After ascending the
scaffold, Russell gazed forward through the archway--towards the
people, whose white faces could be seen glistening outside, and again
expressed his forgiveness of his persecutors. His manner, we are told,
was perfectly calm, and he died without a struggle.
A purer soul, a more blameless spirit, than Thomas Russell, never sunk
on the battle-field of freedom. Fixed in principles, and resolute in
danger, he was nevertheless gentle, courteous, unobstrusive, and humane;
with all the modesty and unaffectedness of childhood, he united the zeal
of a martyr and the courage of a hero. To the cause of his country he
devoted all his energies and all his will; and when he failed to render
it prosperous in life, he illumined it by his devotion and steadfastness
in death. The noble speech given above, and the passages from his
letters which we have quoted, are sufficient in themselves to show how
chivalrous was the spirit, how noble the motives of Thomas Russell. The
predictions which he uttered with so much confidence have not indeed
been fulfilled, and the success which he looked forward to so hopefully
has never been won. But his advice, so often repeated in his letters, is
still adhered to; his countrymen have not yet learned to abandon the
cause in which he suffered, and they still cherish the conviction which
he so touchingly expressed--"that liberty will, in the midst of these
storms be established, and that God will yet wipe off the tears of the
Irish nation."
Russell rests in the churchyard of the Protestant church of Downpatrick.
A plain slab marks the spot where he is laid, and there is on it this
single line--
"THE GRAVE OF RUSSELL."
* * * * *
We have now closed our reference to the portion of Irish history
comprised within the years 1798 and 1803, and as far as concerns the men
who suffered for Ireland in those disastrous days our "Speeches from the
Dock" are concluded. We leave behind us the struggle of 1798 and the men
who organized it; we turn from the records of a period reeking with the
gore of Ireland's truest sons, and echoing with the cries and curses of
the innocent and oppressed; we pass without notice the butcheries and
outrages that filled the land, while our countrymen were being sabred
into submission; and we leave behind us, too, the short-lived
insurrection of 1803, and the chivalrous young patriot who perished with
it. We turn to more recent events, less appalling in their general
aspect, but not less important in their consequences, or less
interesting to the present generation, and take up the next link in the
unbroken chain of protests against British rule in Ireland with the
lives and the fortunes of the patriots of 1848. How faithfully the
principles of freedom have been handed down--how nobly the men of our
own times have imitated the patriots of the past--how thoroughly the
sentiments expressed from the Green-street dock nineteen years ago
coincide with the declarations of Tone, of Emmet, and of Russell--our
readers will shortly have an opportunity of judging. They will see how
all the sufferings and all the calamities that darkened the path of the
martyrs of '98 were insufficient to deter others, as gifted, as earnest,
and as chivalrous as they, from following in their footsteps; and how
unquenchable and unending, as the altar light of the fire-worshipper,
the generous glow of patriotic enthusiasm was transmitted through
generations, unaffected by the torrents of blood in which it was sought
to extinguish it.
The events of our own generation--the acts of contemporary patriots--now
claim our attention; but we are reluctant as yet to turn over the page,
and drop the curtain on the scenes with which we have hitherto been
dealing, and which we feel we have inadequately described. We have
spoken of the men whose speeches from the dock are on record, but we
still linger over the history of the events in which they shared, and of
the men who were associated with them in their endeavours. The patriots
whose careers we have glanced at are but a few out of the number of
Irishmen who suffered during the same period, and in the same cause, and
whose actions recommend them to the admiration and esteem of posterity.
Confining ourselves strictly to those whose speeches after conviction
have reached us, the list could not well be extended; but there are many
who acted as brave a part, and whose memories are inseparable from the
history of the period. We should have desired to speak, were the scope
of our labours more extended, of the brave Lord Edward Fitzgerald, the
gallant and the true, who sacrificed his position, his prospects, and
his life, for the good old cause, and whose arrest and death contributed
more largely, perhaps, than any other cause that could be assigned to
the failure of the insurrection of 1798. Descended from an old and noble
family, possessing in a remarkable degree all the attributes and
embellishments of a popular leader, young and spirited, eloquent and
wealthy, ardent, generous, and brave, of good address, and fine physical
proportions, it is not surprising that Lord Edward Fitzgerald became the
idol of the patriot party, and was appointed by them to a leading
position in the organization. Lord Edward Fitzgerald was born in
October, 1763; being the fifth son of James Duke of Leinster, the
twentieth Earl of Kildare. He grew up to manhood, as a recent writer has
observed, when the drums of the Volunteers were pealing their marches of
victory; and under the stirring events of the period his soul burst
through the shackles that had long bound down the Irish aristocracy in
servile dependence. In his early years he served in the American War of
Independence on the side of despotism and oppression--a circumstance
which in after years caused him poignant sorrow. He joined the United
Irishmen, about the time that Thomas Addis Emmet entered their ranks,
and the young nobleman threw himself into the movement with all the
ardour and energy of his nature. He was appointed Commander-in-Chief of
the National forces in the south, and laboured with indefatigable zeal
in perfecting the plans for the outbreak on the 23rd of May. The story
of his arrest and capture is too well known to need repetition.
Treachery dogged the steps of the young patriot, and after lying for
some weeks in concealment, he was arrested on the 19th day of May, 1798,
two months after his associates in the direction of the movement had
been arrested at Oliver Bond's. His gallant struggle with his captors,
fighting like a lion at bay, against the miscreants who assailed him;
his assassination, his imprisonment, and his death, are events to which
the minds of the Irish nationalists perpetually recur, and which,
celebrated in song and story, are told with sympathising regret wherever
a group of Irish blood are gathered around the hearth-stone. His genius,
his talents, and his influence, his unswerving attachment to his
country, and his melancholy end, cast an air of romance around his
history; and the last ray of gratitude must fade from the Irish heart
before the name of the martyred patriot, who sleeps in the vaults of St.
Werburgh, will be forgotten in the land of his birth.
In less than a fortnight after Lord Edward expired in Newgate another
Irish rebel, distinguished by his talents, his fidelity, and his
position, expiated with his life the crime of "loving his country above
his king." It is hard to mention Thomas Russell and ignore Henry Joy
M'Cracken--it is hard to speak of the Insurrection of '98 and forget the
gallant young Irishman who commanded at the battle of Antrim, and who
perished a few weeks subsequently, in the bloom of his manhood, on the
scaffold in Belfast. Henry Joy M'Cracken was one of the first members of
the Society of United Irishmen, and he was one of the best. He was
arrested, owing to private information received by the government, on
the 10th of October, 1796--three weeks after Russell, his friend and
confidant, was flung into prison--and lodged in Newgate Jail, where he
remained until the 8th of September in the following year. He was then
liberated on bail, and immediately, on regaining his liberty, returned
to Belfast, still bent on accomplishing at all hazards the liberation of
his country. Previous to the outbreak in May, '98, he had frequent
interviews with the patriot leaders in Dublin, and M'Cracken was
appointed to the command of the insurgent forces in Antrim. Filled with
impatience and patriotic ardour, he heard of the stirring events that
followed the arrest of Lord Edward Fitzgerald; he concentrated all his
energies in preparing the Northern patriots for action, but
circumstances delayed the outbreak in that quarter, and it was not until
the 6th of June, 1798, that M'Cracken had perfected his arrangements for
taking the field, and issued the following brief proclamation, "dated
the first year of liberty, 6th June, 1798," addressed to the Army of
Ulster:--
"To-morrow we march on Antrim. Drive the garrison of Randalstown before
you, and hasten to form a junction with your Commander-in-Chief."
Twenty-one thousand insurgents were to have rallied at the call of
M'Cracken, out not more than seven thousand responded to the summons.
Even this number, however, would have been sufficient to strike a
successful blow, which would have filled the hearts of the gallant
Wexford men, then in arms, with exultation, and effected incalculable
results on the fate of Ireland, had not the curse of the Irish cause,
treachery and betrayal, again come to the aid of its enemies. Hardly had
the plans for the attack on Antrim been perfected, when the secrets of
the conspirators were revealed to General Nugent, who commanded the
British troops in the North, and the defeat of the insurgents was thus
secured. M'Cracken's forces marched to the attack on Antrim with great
regularity, chorusing the "Marseillaise Hymn" as they charged through
the town. Their success at first seemed complete, but the English
general, acting on the information which had treacherously been supplied
him, had taken effective means to disconcert and defeat them. Suddenly,
and as it seemed, in the flush of victory, the insurgents found
themselves exposed to a galling fire from a force posted at either end
of the town; a gallant resistance was offered, but it was vain. The
insurgents fled from the fatal spot, leaving 500 of their dead and dying
behind them, and at nightfall Henry Joy M'Cracken found himself a
fugitive and a ruined man. For some weeks he managed to baffle the
bloodhounds on his track, but he was ultimately arrested and tried by
court-martial in Belfast, on the 17th July, 1798. On the evening of the
same day he was executed. We have it on the best authority that he bore
his fate with calmness, resolution, and resignation. It is not his fault
that a "Speech from the Dock" under his name is not amongst our present
collection. He had actually prepared one, but his brutal judges would
not listen to the patriot's exculpation. He was hung, amidst the sobs
and tears of the populace, in front of the Old Market place of Belfast,
and his remains were interred in the graveyard now covered by St.
George's Protestant church.
Later still in the same year two gallant young officers of Irish blood,
shared the fate of Russell and M'Cracken. They sailed with Humbert from
Rochelle; they fought at Castlebar and Ballinamuck; and when the swords
of their French allies were sheathed, they passed into the power of
their foes. Matthew Tone was one of them; the other was Bartholomew
Teeling. The latter filled the rank of Etat-major in the French army;
and a letter from his commanding officer, General Humbert, was read at
his trial, in which the highest praise was given to the young officer
for the humane exertions which he made throughout his last brief
campaign in the interest of mercy. "His hand," he said, "was ever raised
to stay the useless effusion of blood, and his protection was afforded
to the prostrate and defenceless." But his military judges paid little
heed to those extenuating circumstances, and Teeling was condemned to
die on the day of his trial. He perished on the 24th September, 1798,
being then in his twenty-fourth year. He marched with a proud step to
the place of execution on Arbour Hill, Dublin, and he died, as a soldier
might, with unshaken firmness and unquailing mien. No lettered slab
marks the place of his interment; and his bones remain in unhallowed and
unconsecrated ground. Hardly had his headless body ceased to palpitate,
when it was flung into a hole at the rere of the Royal Barracks. A few
days later the same unhonoured spot received the mortal remains of
Matthew Tone. "He had a more enthusiastic nature than any of us," writes
his brother, Theobald Wolfe Tone, "and was a sincere Republican, capable
of sacrificing everything for his principles." His execution was
conducted with infamous cruelty and brutality, and the life-blood was
still gushing from his body when it was flung into "the Croppy's Hole."
"The day will come," says Dr. Madden, "when that desecrated spot will be
hallowed ground--consecrated by religion--trod lightly by pensive
patriotism--and decorated by funeral trophies in honour of the dead
whose bones lie there in graves that are now neglected and unhonoured."
There are others of the patriot leaders who died in exile, far away from
the land for which they suffered, and whose graves were dug on alien
shores by the heedless hands of the stranger. This was the fate of Addis
Emmet, of Neilson, and of M'Nevin. In Ireland they were foremost and
most trusted amongst the gifted and brilliant throng that directed the
labours and shaped the purposes of the United Irishmen. They survived
the reign of terror that swallowed up the majority of their compatriots,
and, when milder councils began to prevail, they were permitted to go
forth from the dungeon which confined them into banishment. The vision
of Irish freedom was not permitted to dawn upon them in life; from
beyond the sandy slopes washed by the Western Atlantic they watched the
fortunes of the old land with hopeless but enduring love. Their talents,
their virtues, and their patriotism were not unappreciated by the people
amongst whom they spent their closing years of life. In the busiest
thoroughfare of the greatest city of America there towers over the heads
of the by-passers the monument of marble which grateful hands have
raised to the memory of Addis Emmet. In the centre of Western
civilization, the home of republican liberty, the stranger reads in
glowing words, of the virtues and the fame of the brother of Robert
Emmet, sculptured on the noble pillar erected in Broadway, New York, to
his memory. Nor was he the only one of his party to whom such an honour
was accorded. A stone-throw from the spot where the Emmet monument
stands, a memorial not less commanding in its proportions and
appearance, was erected to William James M'Nevin; and the American
citizen, as he passes through the spacious streets of that city which
the genius of liberty has rendered prosperous and great, gazes proudly
on those stately monuments, which tell him that the devotion to freedom
which England punished and proscribed found in his own land the
recognition which it merited from the gallant and the free.
[Footnote: The inscriptions on the Emmet monument are in three
languages--Irish, Latin, and English. The Irish inscription consists of
the following lines:--
Do mhiannaich se ardmath
Cum tir a breith
Do thug se clu a's fuair se moladh
An deig a bais.
The following is the English inscription:
_In Memory of_
THOMAS ADDIS EMMET,
Who exemplified in his conduct,
And adorned by his integrity.
The policy and principles of the
UNITED IRISHMEN--
"To forward a brotherhood of affection,
A community of rights, an identity of interests, and a union of power
Among Irishmen of every religious persuasion,
As the only means of Ireland's chief good,
An impartial and adequate representation
IN AN IRISH PARLIAMENT."
For this (mysterious fate of virtue) exiled from his native land,
In America, the land of Freedom,
He found a second country,
Which paid his love by reverencing his genius.
Learned in our laws, and in the laws of Europe,
In the literature of our times, and in that of antiquity,
All knowledge seemed subject to his use.
An orator of the first order, clear, copious, fervid,
Alike powerful to kindle the imagination, touch the affections,
And sway the reason and will.
Simple in his tastes, unassuming in his manners,
Frank, generous, kind-hearted, and honourable,
His private life was beautiful,
As his public course was brilliant.
Anxious to perpetuate
The name and example of such a man,
Alike illustrious by his genius, his virtues, and his fate;
Consecrated to their affections by his sacrifices, his perils,
And the deeper calamities of his kindred,
IN A JUST AND HOLY CAUSE;
His sympathising countrymen
Erected this Monument and Cenotaph.]
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