Subsequent to the melancholy tragedy of 1803, a period of indescribable
depression was experienced in Ireland. Defeat, disaster, ruin, had
fallen upon the national cause; the power on whose friendly aid so much
reliance had been placed was humbled, and England stood before the world
in the full blaze of triumph and glory. Her fleet was undisputed
mistress of the ocean, having swept it of all hostile shipping, and left
to the enemy little more than the small craft that sheltered in narrow
creeks and under the guns of well-defended harbours. Her army, if not
numerically large, had proved its valour on many a well-fought field,
and shown that it knew how to bring victory to light upon its standards;
and, what was not less a matter of wonder to others, and of pride to
herself, the abundance of her wealth and the extent of her resources
were shown to be without a parallel in the world. Napoleon was an exile
on the rock of St. Helena; the "Holy Alliance"--as the European,
sovereigns blasphemously designated themselves--were lording it over the
souls and bodies of men by "right divine;" the free and noble principles
in which the French Revolution had its origin were now sunk out of
sight, covered with the infamy of the Reign of Terror and the
responsibility of the series of desolating wars which had followed it,
and no man dared to speak for them. Those were dark days for Ireland.
Her parliament was gone, and in the blighting shade of the provincialism
to which she was reduced, genius and courage seemed to have died out
from the land. Thousands of her bravest and most devoted children had
perished in her cause--some on the scaffold, and others on the field of
battle--and many whose presence at home would have been invaluable to
her were obliged to seek safety in exile. So Erin, the crownless Queen,
sat in the dust with fetters on her limbs, her broken sword fallen from
her hand, and with mournful memories lying heavy on her heart. The
feelings of disappointment and grief then rankling in every Irish
breast are well mirrored in that plaintive song of our national poet,
which open with these tristful lines:---
"'Tis gone, and for ever, the light we saw breaking,
Like heaven's first dawn o'er the sleep of the dead,
When man, from the slumber of ages awaking,
Looked upward and blessed the pure ray ere it fled.
'Tis gone, and the gleams it has left of its burning
But deepen the long night of bondage and mourning,
That dark o'er the kingdoms of earth is returning,
And darkest of all, hapless Erin, o'er thee."
[Illustration: WILLIAM S. O'BRIEN. JOHN MITCHEL. JOHN MARTIN.]
In this gloomy condition of affairs there was nothing for Irish
patriotism to do except to seek for the removal, by constitutional
means, of some of the cruel grievances that pressed on the people.
Emancipation of the Catholics from the large remainder of the penal laws
that still degraded and despoiled them was one of the baits held out by
Mr. Pitt when playing his cards for the Union; but not long had the
Irish parliament been numbered with the things that were, when it became
evident that the minister was in no hurry to fulfil his engagement, and
it was found necessary to take some steps for keeping him to his
promise. Committees were formed, meetings were held, speeches were made,
resolutions were adopted, and all the machinery of parliamentary
endeavour was put in motion. The leaders of the Catholic cause in this
case, like those of the national cause in the preceding years, were
liberal-minded Protestant gentlemen; but as time wore on, a young
barrister from Kerry, one of the old race and the old faith, took a
decided lead amongst them, and soon became its recognised champion, the
elect of the nation, the "man of the people." Daniel O'Connell stood
forth, with the whole mass of his Catholic countrymen at his back, to
wage within the lines of the constitution this battle for Ireland. He
fought it resolutely and skilfully; the people supported him with an
unanimity and an enthusiasm that were wonderful; their spirit rose and
strengthened to that degree that the probability of another civil war
began to loom up in the near future--inquiries instituted by the
government resulted in the discovery that the Catholics serving in the
army, and who constituted at least a third of its strength, were in full
sympathy with their countrymen on this question, and could not be
depended on to act against them--the ministry recognised the critical
condition of affairs, saw that there was danger in delay, yielded to the
popular demand--and Catholic Emancipation was won.
The details of that brilliant episode of Irish history cannot be told
within the limits of this work, but some of its consequences concern us
very nearly. The triumph of the constitutional struggle for Catholic
Emancipation confirmed O'Connell in the resolution he had previously
formed, to promote an agitation for a Repeal of the Union, and
encouraged him to lay the proposal before his countrymen. The forces
that had wrung the one measure of justice from an unwilling parliament
were competent, he declared, to obtain the other. He soon succeeded in
impressing his own belief on the minds of his countrymen, whose
confidence in his wisdom and his powers was unbounded. The whole country
responded to his call, and soon "the Liberator," as the emancipated
Irish Catholics loved to call him, found himself at the head of a
political organization which in its mode of action, its extent, and its
ardour was "unique in the history of the world." Every city and great
town in Ireland had its branch of the Repeal Association--every village
had its Repeal reading-room, all deriving hope and life, and taking
direction from the head-quarters in Dublin, where the great Tribune
himself "thundered and lightened" at the weekly meetings. All Ireland
echoed with his words. Newspapers, attaining thereby to a circulation
never before approached in Ireland, carried them from one extremity of
the land to the other--educating, cheering, and inspiring the hearts of
the long downtrodden people. Nothing like this had ever occurred before.
The eloquence of the patriot orators of the Irish parliament had not
been brought home to the masses of the population; and the United
Irishmen could only speak to them secretly, in whispers. But here were
addresses glowing, and bold, and tender, brimful of native humour,
scathing in their sarcasms, terrible in their denunciations, ineffably
beautiful in their pathos--addresses that recalled the most glorious as
well as the saddest memories of Irish history, and presented brilliant
vistas of the future--addresses that touched to its fullest and most
delicious vibration every chord of the Irish heart--here they were being
sped over the land in an unfailing and ever welcome supply. The peasant
read them to his family by the fireside when his hard day's work was
done, and the fisherman, as he steered his boat homeward, reckoned as
not the least of his anticipated pleasures, the reading of the last
report from Conciliation Hall. And it was not the humbler classes only
who acknowledged the influence of the Repeal oratory, sympathised with
the movement, and enrolled themselves in the ranks. The priesthood
almost to a man, were members of the Association and propagandists of
its principles; the professional classes were largely represented in it;
of merchants and traders it could count up a long roll; and many of the
landed gentry, even though they held her Majesty's Commission of the
Peace, were amongst its most prominent supporters. In short, the Repeal
Association represented the Irish nation, and its voice was the voice of
the people. The "Monster Meetings" of the year 1843 put this fact beyond
the region of doubt or question. As popular demonstrations they were
wonderful in their numbers, their order, and their enthusiasm.
O'Connell, elated by their success, fancied that his victory was as good
as won. He knew that things could not continue to go on as they were
going--either the government or the Repeal Association should give way,
and he believed the government would yield. For, the Association, he
assured his countrymen, was safe within the limits of the law, and not a
hostile hand could be laid upon it without violating the constitution.
His countrymen had nothing to do but obey the law and support the
Association, and a Repeal of the Union within a few months was, he said,
inevitable. In all this he had allowed his own heart to deceive him;
and his mistake was clearly shown, when in October, 1843, the
government, by proclamation and a display of military force, prevented
the intended monster meeting at Clontarf. It was still more fully
established in the early part of the following year, when he, with a
number of his political associates, was brought to trial for treasonable
and seditious practices, found guilty, and sentenced to twelve months'
imprisonment. The subsequent reversal of the verdict by the House of
Lords, was a legal triumph for O'Connell; but nevertheless, his prestige
had suffered by the occurrence, and his policy had begun to pall upon
the minds of the people.
After his release the business of the Association went on as before,
only there was less of confidence and of defiance in the speeches of the
Liberator, and there were no more monster meetings. He was now more
emphatic than ever in his advocacy of moral force principles, and his
condemnation of all warlike hints and allusions. The weight of age--he
was then more than seventy years--was pressing on his once buoyant
spirit; his prison experience had damped his courage; and he was haunted
night and day by a conviction--terrible to his mind--that there was
growing up under the wing of the Association, a party that would teach
the people to look to an armed struggle as the only sure means of
obtaining the freedom of their country. The writings of the
_Nation_--then a new light in the literature and politics of
Ireland--had a ring in them that was unpleasant to his ears, a sound as
of clashing steel and the explosion of gunpowder. In the articles of
that journal much honour was given to men who had striven for Irish
freedom by other methods than those in favour at Conciliation Hall; and
the songs and ballads which it was giving to the youth of Ireland--who
received them with delight, treasuring every line "as if an angel
spoke"--were bright with the spirit of battle, and taught any doctrine
except the sinfulness of fighting for liberty. The Liberator grew
fearful of that organ and of the men by whom it was conducted. He
distrusted that quiet-faced, thoughtful, and laborious young man, whom
they so loved and reverenced--the founder, the soul, and the centre of
their party. To the keen glance of the aged leader it appeared that for
all that placid brow, those calm grey eyes and softly curving lip of
his, the man had no horror of blood-spilling in a righteous cause, and
was capable not only of deliberately inciting his countrymen to rise in
arms against English rule, but also of taking a foremost place in the
struggle. And little less to be dreaded than Thomas Davis, was his
friend and _collaborateur_, Charles Gavan Duffy, whose sharp and active
intellect and resolute spirit were not in the least likely to allow the
national cause to rest for ever on the peaceful platform of Conciliation
Hall. Death removed Davis early from the scene; but in John Mitchel, who
had taken his place, there was no gain to the party of moral force. Then
there was that other young firebrand--that dapper, well-built,
well-dressed, curled and scented young gentleman from the _Urbs
Intacta_--whose wondrous eloquence, with the glow of its thought, the
brilliancy and richness of its imagery, and the sweetness of its
cadences, charmed and swayed all hearts--adding immensely to the dangers
of the situation. O'Brien, too, staid and unimpulsive as was his
character, deliberate and circumspect as were his habits, was evidently
inclined to give the weight of his name and influence to this "advanced"
party. And there were many less prominent, but scarcely less able men
giving them the aid of their great talents in the press and on the
platform--not only men, but women too. Some of the most inspiriting of
the strains that were inducing the youth of the country to familiarize
themselves with steel blades and rifle barrels proceeded from the pens
of those fair and gifted beings. Day after day, as this party sickened
of the stale platitudes, and timid counsels, and crooked policy of the
Hall, O'Connell, his son John, and other leading members of the
Association, insisted more and more strongly on their doctrine of moral
force, and indulged in the wildest and most absurd denunciations of the
principle of armed resistance to tyranny. "The liberty of the world,"
exclaimed O'Connell, "is not worth the shedding of one drop of human
blood." Notwithstanding the profound disgust which the utterance of such
sentiments caused to the bolder spirits in the Association, they would
have continued within its fold, if those debasing principles had not
been actually formulated into a series of resolutions and proposed for
the acceptance of the Society. Then they rose against the ignoble
doctrine which would blot the fair fame of all who ever fought for
liberty in Ireland or elsewhere, and rank the noblest men the world ever
saw in the category of fools and criminals. Meagher, in a brilliant
oration, protested against the resolutions, and showed why he would not
"abhor and stigmatize the sword." Mr. John O'Connell interrupted and
interfered with the speaker. It was plain that freedom of speech was to
be had no longer on the platform of the Association, and that men of
spirit had no longer any business there--Meagher took up his hat and
left the Hall, and amongst the crowd that accompanied, him, went William
Smith O'Brien, Thomas Devin Reilly, Charles Gavan Duffy, and John
Mitchel.
After this disruption, which occurred on the 28th of July, 1846, came
the formation of the "Irish Confederation" by the seceders. In the
proceedings of the new Society Mr. Mitchel took a more prominent part
than he had taken in the business of the Repeal Association. And he
continued to write in his own terse and forcible style in the _Nation_.
But his mind travelled too fast in the direction of war for either the
journal or the society with which he was connected. The desperate
condition of the country, now a prey to all the horrors of famine, for
the awfully fatal effects of which the government was clearly
responsible--the disorganization and decay of the Repeal party,
consequent on the death of O'Connell--the introduction of Arms' Acts and
other coercive measures by the government, and the growing ardour of the
Confederate Clubs, were to him as signs and tokens unmistakable that
there was no time to be lost in bringing matters to a crisis in which
the people should hold their own by force of arms. Most of his political
associates viewed the situation with more patience; but Mr. Mitchel was
resolved that even if he stood alone, he would speak out his opinions to
the people. In the latter part of December, 1847, he withdrew from the
_Nation_. On the 5th of February, 1848, at the close of a debate, which
had lasted two days, on the merits of his policy of immediate resistance
to the collection of rates, rents, and taxes, and the division on which
was unfavourable to him, he, with a number of friends and sympathisers
withdraw from the Confederation. Seven days afterwards, he issued the
first number of a newspaper, bearing the significant title of _The
United Irishman_, and having for its motto the following aphorism,
quoted from Theobald Wolfe Tone: "Our independence must be had at all
hazards. If the men of property will not support us, they must fall; we
can support ourselves by the aid of that numerous and respectable class
of the community, the men of no property."
The _Nation_ had been regarded as rather an outspoken journal, and not
particularly well affected to the rulers of the country. But it was
mildness, and gentleness, and loyalty itself compared to the new-comer
in the field of journalism. The sudden uprising of a most portentous
comet sweeping close to this planet of ours could hardly create more
unfeigned astonishment in the minds of people in general than did the
appearance of this wonderful newspaper, brimful of open and avowed
sedition, crammed with incitements to insurrection, and with diligently
prepared instructions for the destruction of her Majesty's troops,
barracks, stores, and magazines. Men rubbed their eyes, as they read its
articles and correspondence, scarcely believing that any man in his
sober senses would venture, in any part of the Queen's dominions, to put
such things in print. But there were the articles and the letters,
nevertheless, on fair paper and in good type, published in a duly
registered newspaper bearing the impressed stamp of the Customs--a sign
to all men that the proprietor was bound in heavy sureties to the
government against the publication of "libel, blasphemy, or
sedition"!--couched, moreover, in a style of language possessing such
grace and force, such delicacy of finish, and yet such marvellous
strength, rich with so much of quiet humour, and bristling with such
rasping sarcasm and penetrating invective, that they were read as an
intellectual luxury even by men who regarded as utterly wild and wicked
the sentiments they conveyed. The first editorial utterance in this
journal consisted of a letter from Mr. Mitchel to the Viceroy, in which
that functionary was addressed as "The Right Hon. the Earl of Clarendon,
Englishman, calling himself her Majesty's Lord Lieutenant-General and
General Governor of Ireland." The purport of the document was to
declare, above board, the aims and objects of the _United Irishman_, a
journal with which, wrote Mr. Mitchel, "your lordship and your
lordship's masters and servants are to have more to do than may be
agreeable either to you or me." That that purpose was to resume the
struggle which had been waged by Tone and Emmet, or, as Mr. Mitchel put
it, "the Holy War, to sweep this island clear of the English name and
nation." "We differ," he said, "from the illustrious conspirators of
'98, not in principle--no, not an _iota_--but, as I shall presently show
you, materially as to the mode of action." And the difference was to
consist in this--that whereas the revolutionary organization in
Ninety-Eight was a secret one, which was ruined by spies and informers,
that of Forty-Eight was to be an open one, concerning which informers
could tell nothing that its promoters would not willingly proclaim from
the house-tops. "If you desire," he wrote, "to have a Castle detective
employed about the _United Irishman_ office in Trinity-street, I shall
make no objection, provided the man be sober and honest. If Sir George
Grey or Sir William Somerville would like to read our correspondence, we
make him welcome for the present--only let the letters be forwarded
without losing a post." Of the fact that he would speedily be called to
account for his conduct in one of her Majesty's courts of law, the
writer of this defiant language was perfectly cognizant; but he declared
that the inevitable prosecution would be his opportunity of achieving a
victory over the government. "For be it known to you," he wrote, "that
in such a case you shall either publicly, boldly, notoriously _pack a
jury_, or else see the accused rebel walk a free man out of the court of
Queen's Bench--which will be a victory only less than the rout of your
lordship's red-coats in the open field." In case of his defeat, other
men would take up the cause, and maintain it until at last England would
have to fall back on her old system of courts-martial, and triangles,
and free quarters, and Irishmen would find that there was no help for
them "in franchises, in votings, in spoutings, in shoutings, and toasts
drank with enthusiasm--nor in anything in this world, save the
_extensor_ and _contractor_ muscles of their right arms, in
these and in the goodness of God above." The conclusion of this
extraordinary address to her Majesty's representative was in the
following terms:--
"In plain English, my Lord Earl, the deep and irreconcilable
disaffection of this people to all British laws, lawgivers, and law
administrators shall find a voice. That holy Hatred of foreign
dominion which nerved our noble predecessors fifty years ago for the
dungeon, the field, or the gallows (though of late years it has worn
a vile nisi prius gown, and snivelled somewhat in courts of law and
on spouting platforms) still lives, thank God! and glows as fierce
and hot as ever. To educate that holy Hatred, to make it know itself,
and avow itself, and, at last, fill itself full, I hereby devote the
columns of the _United Irishman_."
After this address to the Lord Lieutenant, Mr. Mitchel took to
addressing the farming classes, and it is really a study to observe the
exquisite precision, the clearness, and the force of the language he
employed to convey his ideas to them. In his second letter he supposes
the case of a farmer who has the entire produce of his land in his
haggard, in the shape of six stacks of corn; he shows that three of
these ought, in all honour and conscience, be sufficient for the
landlord and the government to seize upon, leaving the other three to
support the family of the man whose labour had produced them. But what
are the facts?--the landlord and the government sweep _all_ away, and
the peasant and his family starve by the ditch sides. As an illustration
of this condition of things, he quotes from a southern paper an account
of an inquest held on the body of a man named Boland, and on the bodies
of his two daughters, who, as the verdict declared, had "died of cold
and starvation," although occupants of a farm of over twenty acres in
extent. On this melancholy case the comment of the editor of the _United
Irishman_ was as follows:--
"Now what became of poor Boland's twenty acres of crop? Part of it
went to Gibraltar, to victual the garrison; part to South Africa, to
provision the robber army; part went to Spain, to pay for the
landlord's wine; part to London, to pay the interest of his honour's
mortgage to the Jews. The English ate some of it; the Chinese had
their share; the Jews and the Gentiles divided it amongst them--and
there was _none_ for Boland."
As to the manner in which the condition and fate of poor Boland were to
be avoided, abundant instructions were given in every number. The
anti-tithe movement was quoted as a model to begin with; but, of course,
that was to be improved upon. The idea that the people would not
venture on such desperate movements, and had grown enamoured of the
Peace policy and of "Patience and Perseverance," Mr. Mitchel refused to
entertain for a moment:--
"I will not believe that Irishmen are so degraded and utterly lost as
this. The Earth is awakening from sleep; a flash of electric fire is
passing through the dumb millions. Democracy is girding himself once
more like a strong man to run a race; and slumbering nations are
arising in their might, and 'shaking their invincible locks.' Oh! my
countrymen, look up, look up! Arise from the death-dust where you
have long been lying, and let this light visit your eyes also, and
touch your souls. Let your ears drink in the blessed words, 'Liberty!
Fraternity! Equality!' which are soon to ring from pole to pole!
Clear steel will, ere long, dawn upon you in your desolate darkness;
and the rolling thunder of the People's cannon will drive before it
many a heavy cloud that has long hidden from you the face of heaven.
Pray for that day; and preserve life and health that you may worthily
meet it. Above all, let the man amongst you who has no gun sell his
garment and buy one."
So Mr. Mitchel went on for some weeks, preaching in earnest and exciting
language the necessity of preparation for an immediate grapple with "the
enemy." In the midst of his labours came the startling news of another
revolution in France, Louis Philippe in full flight, and the
proclamation of a Republic. Yet a few days more and the Berliners had
risen and triumphed, only stopping short of chasing their king away
because he conceded all they were pleased to require of him; then came
insurrection in Sicily, insurrection in Lombardy, insurrection in Milan,
insurrection in Hungary--in short, the revolutionary movement became
general throughout Europe, and thrones and principalities were tumbling
and tottering in all directions. Loud was the complaint in the _United
Irishman_ because Dublin was remaining tranquil. It was evident,
however, that the people and their leaders were feeling the
revolutionary impulse, and that matters were fast hurrying towards an
outbreak. John Mitchel knew that a crisis was at hand, and devoted all
his energies to making the best use of the short time that his newspaper
had to live. His writing became fiercer, more condensed, and more
powerful than ever. Lord Clarendon was now addressed as "Her Majesty's
Executioner General and General Butcher of Ireland," and instructions
for street warfare and all sorts of operations suitable for an insurgent
populace occupied a larger space than ever in his paper. But the
government were now resolved to close with their bold and clever enemy.
On Tuesday, the 21st of March, 1848, Messrs. O'Brien, Meagher, and
Mitchel were arrested, the former for seditious speeches, uttered at a
meeting of the Confederation held on the 15th of that month, the latter
for three seditious articles published in the _United Irishman_. All
were released on bail, and when the trials came on, in the month of May,
disagreements of the jury took place in the cases of O'Brien and
Meagher. But before the trial of Mr. Mitchel could be proceeded with, he
was arrested on a fresh charge of "treason-felony"--a new crime, which
had been manufactured by Act of Parliament a few weeks before. He was,
therefore, fast in the toils, and with but little chance of escape.
Little concern did this give the brave-hearted patriot, who only hoped
and prayed that at last the time had come when his countrymen would
launch out upon the resolute course of action which he had so earnestly
recommended to them. From his cell in Newgate, on the 16th of May, he
addressed to them one of his most exciting letters, of which the
following are the concluding passages:--
"For me, I abide my fate joyfully; for I know that, whatever betide
me, my work is nearly done. Yes; Moral Force and 'Patience and
Perseverance' are scattered to the wild winds of heaven. The music my
countrymen now love best to hear is the rattle of arms and the ring
of the rifle. As I sit here and write in my lonely cell, I hear, just
dying away, the measured tramp of ten thousand marching men--my
gallant confederates, unarmed and silent, but with hearts like bended
bow, waiting till _the time_ comes. They have marched past my prison
windows, to let me know there are ten thousand fighting men in
Dublin--'felons' in heart and soul.
"I thank God for it. The game is afoot at last. The liberty of
Ireland may come sooner or later, by peaceful negotiation or bloody
conflict--but it is _sure_; and wherever between the poles I may
chance to be, I will hear the crash of the downfall of the
thrice-accursed British Empire."
On Monday, May 22nd, 1848, the trial of Mr. Mitchel commenced in the
Commission Court, Green-street, before Baron Lefroy. He was eloquently
defended by the veteran lawyer and uncompromising patriot, Robert
Holmes, the brother-in-law of Robert Emmet. The mere law of the case was
strong against the prisoner, but Mr. Holmes endeavoured to raise the
minds of the jury to the moral view of the case, upon which English
juries have often acted regardless of the letter of the Act of
Parliament. With a jury of Irishmen impartially chosen it would have
been a good defence, but the Castle had made sure of their men in this
case. At five o'clock on the evening of the 26th, the case went to the
jury, who, after an absence of two hours, returned into court with a
verdict of "Guilty."
That verdict was a surprise to no one. On the day the jury was
empanelled, the prisoner and every one else knew what it was to be. It
was now his turn to have a word to say for himself, and he spoke, as was
his wont, in plain terms, answering thus the question that had been put
to him:--
"I have to say that I have been found guilty by a packed jury--by the
jury of a partizan 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."
This was touching the high sheriff on a tender place, and he immediately
called out for the protection of the court. Whereupon Baron Lefroy
interposed, and did gravely and deliberately, as is the manner of
judges, declare that the imputation which had just been made on the
character of that excellent official, the high sheriff, was most
"unwarranted and unfounded." He adduced, however, no reason in support
of that declaration--not a shadow of proof that the conduct of the
aforesaid official was fair or honest--but proceeded to say that the
jury had found the prisoner guilty on evidence supplied by his own
writings, some of which his lordship, with a proper expression of horror
on his countenance, proceeded to read from his notes. In one of the
prisoner's publications, he said, there appeared the following passage
"There is now growing on the soil of Ireland a wealth of grain, and
roots, and cattle, far more than enough to sustain in life and comfort
all the inhabitants of the island. That wealth must not leave us another
year, not until every grain of it is fought for in every stage, from the
tying of the sheaf to the loading of the ship; and the effort necessary
to that simple act of self-preservation will at one and the same blow
prostrate British dominion and landlordism together." In reference to
this piece of writing, and many others of a similar nature, his lordship
remarked that no effort had been made to show that the prisoner was not
responsible for them; it was only contended that they involved no moral
guilt. But the law was to be vindicated; and it now became his duty to
pronounce the sentence of the court, which was--that the prisoner be
transported beyond the seas for a term of fourteen years. The severity
of the sentence occasioned general surprise; a general suspiration and
low murmur were heard through the court. Then there was stillness as of
death, in the midst of which the tones of John Mitchel's voice rang out
clearly, as he said:--
"The law has now done its part, and the Queen of England, her crown
and government in Ireland are now secure, pursuant to act of
parliament. I have done my part also. Three months ago I promised
Lord Clarendon, and his government in this country, that I would
provoke him into his courts of justice, as places of this kind are
called, and that I would force him publicly and notoriously to pack a
jury against me to convict me, or else that I would walk a free man
out of this court, and provoke him to a contest in another field. My
lord, I knew I was setting my life on that cast, but I knew that in
either event the victory should be with me, and it is with me.
Neither the jury, nor the judges, nor any other man in this court
presumes to imagine that it is a criminal who stands in this dock."
Here there were murmurs of applause, which caused the criers to call out
for "Silence!" and the police to look fiercely on the people around
them. Mr. Mitchel resumed:--
"I have shown what the law is made of in Ireland. I have shown that
her Majesty's government sustains itself in Ireland by packed juries,
by partizan judges, by perjured sheriffs."
Baron Lefroy interposed. The court could not sit there to hear the
prisoner arraign the jurors, the sheriffs, the courts, and the tenure by
which Englands holds this country. Again the prisoner spoke:--
"I have acted all through this business, from the first, under a
strong sense of duty. I do not repent anything that I have done, and
I believe that the course which I have opened is only commenced. The
Roman who saw his hand burning to ashes before the tyrant, promised
that three hundred should follow out his enterprise. Can I not
promise for one, for two, for three, aye for hundreds?"
As he uttered these words, Mr. Mitchel looked proudly into the faces of
the friends near him, and around the court. His words and his glance
were immediately responded to by an outburst of passionate voices from
all parts of the building, exclaiming--"For me! for me! promise for me,
Mitchel! and for me!" And then came a clapping of hands and a stamping
of feet, that sounded loud and sharp as a discharge of musketry,
followed by a shout like a peal of thunder. John Martin, Thomas Francis
Meagher, and Devin Reilly, with other gentlemen who stood close by the
dock, reached over it to grasp the hand of the new made felon. The
aspect of affairs looked alarming for a moment. The policemen laid
violent hands on the persons near them and pulled them about. Mr.
Meagher and Mr. Doheny were taken into custody. Baron Lefroy, in a high
state of excitement, cried out--"Officer! remove Mr. Mitchel!" and then,
with his brother judges, retired hurriedly from the bench. The turnkeys
who stood in the dock with Mr. Mitchel motioned to him that he was to
move; he took a step or two down the little stairs under the flooring of
the court-house, and his friends saw him no more.
He was led through the passages that communicated with the adjoining
prison, and ushered into a dark and narrow cell, in which, however, his
detention was of but a few hours' duration: At four o'clock in the
evening of that day--May 27th, 1848--the prison van, escorted by a large
force of mounted police and dragoons, with drawn sabres, drove up to the
prison gate. It was opened, and forth walked John Mitchel--_in fetters_.
A heavy chain was attached to his right leg by a shackle at the ankle;
the other end was to have been attached to the left leg, but as the
jailors had not time to effect the connexion when the order came for the
removal of the prisoner, they bade him take it in his hand, and it was
in this plight, with a festoon of iron from his hand to his foot, he
passed from the prison into the street--repeating mayhap to his own
heart, the words uttered by Wolfe Tone in circumstances not
dissimilar:--"For the cause which I have embraced, I feel prouder to
wear these chains, than if I were decorated with the star and garter of
England." Four or five police inspectors assisted him to step into the
van, the door was closed after him, the word was given to the escort,
and off went the cavalcade at a thundering pace to the North-wall, where
a government steamer, the "Shearwater," was lying with her steam up in
readiness to receive him. He clambered the side-ladder of the steamer
with some assistance; on reaching the deck, the chains tripped him and
he fell forward. Scarcely was he on his feet again, when the paddles of
the steamer were beating; the water, and the vessel was moving from the
shores of that "Isle of Destiny," which he loved so well, and a sight of
which has never since gladdened the eyes of John Mitchel.
The history of Mr. Mitchel's subsequent career, which has been an
eventful one, does not rightly fall within the scope of this work.
Suffice it to say that on June the 1st, 1848, he was placed on board the
"Scourge" man-of-war, which then sailed off for Bermuda. There Mr.
Mitchel was retained on board a penal ship, or "hulk," until April 22nd,
1849, when he was transferred to the ship "Neptune," on her way from
England to the Cape of Good Hope, whither she was taking a batch of
British convicts. Those convicts the colonists at the Cape refused to
receive into their country, and a long struggle ensued between them and
the commander of the "Neptune," who wished to deposit his cargo
according to instructions. The colonists were willing to make an
exception in the case of Mr. Mitchel, but the naval officer could not
think of making any compromise in the matter. The end of the contest was
that the vessel, with her cargo of convicts on board, sailed on February
19th, 1850, for Van Dieman's Land, where she arrived on April 7th of the
same year. In consideration of the hardships they had undergone by
reason of their detention at the Cape, the government granted a
conditional pardon to all the criminal convicts on their arrival at
Hobart Town. It set them free on the condition that they should not
return to the "United Kingdom." Mr. Mitchel and the other political
convicts were less mercifully treated. It was not until the year 1854
that a similar amount of freedom was given to these gentlemen. Some
months previous to the arrival of Mr. Mitchel at Hobart Town, his
friends William Smith O'Brien, John Martin, Thomas F. Meagher, Kevin
Izod O'Doherty, Terence Bellew MacManus, and Patrick O'Donoghue, had
reached the same place, there to serve out the various terms of
transportation to which they had been sentenced. All except Mr. O'Brien,
who had refused to enter into these arrangements, were at that time on
parole--living, however, in separate and limited districts, and no two
of them nearer than thirty or forty miles. On his landing from the
"Neptune," Mr. Mitchel, in consideration of the delicate state of his
health, was allowed to reside with Mr. Martin in the Bothwell district.
In the summer of the year 1853, a number of Irish gentlemen in America,
took measures to effect the release of one or more of the Irish patriots
from Van Dieman's Land, and Mr. P.J. Smyth sailed from New York on that
patriotic mission. Arrived in Van Dieman's Land, the authorities, who
seemed to have suspition of his business, placed him under arrest, from
which he was released after three days' detention. The friends soon
managed to meet and come to an understanding as to their plan of future
operations, in conformity with which, Mr. Mitchel penned the following
letter to the governor of the island:--
"Bothwell, 8th June, 1853.
"SIR--I hereby resign the 'comparative liberty,' called
'ticket-of-leave,' and revoke my parole of honour. I shall forthwith
present myself before the police magistrate of Bothwell, at his
police office, show him this letter, and offer myself to be taken
into custody. I am, sir, your obedient servant,
"JOHN MITCHEL."
On the next day, June the 9th, Mr. Mitchel and Mr. Smyth went to the
police office, saw the magistrate with his attending constables; handed
him the letter, waited until he had read its contents, addressed to him
a verbal statement to the same effect, and while he appeared to be
paralyzed with astonishment, and uncertain what to do, touched their
hats to him and left the office. Chase after them was vain, as they had
mounted a pair of fleet steeds after leaving the presence of his
worship; but it was not until six weeks afterwards that they were able
to get shipping and leave the island. On the 12th of October, 1853, Mr.
Mitchel was landed safe in California--to the intense delight of his
countrymen throughout the American States, who celebrated the event by
many joyful banquets.
Since then, Mr. Mitchel has occupied himself mainly with the press. He
started the _Citizen_ in New York, and subsequently, at Knoxville,
Tennessee, the _Southern Citizen_. As editor of the _Richmond Examiner_
during the American civil war, he ably supported the Southern cause, to
which he gave a still stronger pledge of his attachment in the services
and the lives of two of his brave sons. One of these gentlemen, Mr.
William Mitchel, was killed at the battle of Gettysburg; the other,
Captain John Mitchel, who had been placed in command of the important
position of Fort Sumter, was shot on the parapet of that work, on July
19th, 1864. Shortly after the close of the war, Mr. John Mitchel was
taken prisoner by the Federal government; but after undergoing an
imprisonment of some months his release was ordered by President
Johnson, acting on the solicitation of a large and influential
deputation of Irishmen. In the latter part of the year 1867, turning to
the press again, he started the _Irish Citizen_ at New York, and in that
journal, at the date of this writing, he continues to wield his
trenchant pen on behalf of the Irish cause. To that cause, through all
the lapse of time, and change of scene, and vicissitude of fortune which
he has known, his heart has remained for ever true. He has suffered much
for it; that he may live to see it triumphant is a prayer which finds an
echo in the hearts of all his fellow-countrymen.
We have written of Mr. Mitchel only in reference to his political
career; but we can, without trenching in any degree on the domain of
private life, supply some additional and authentic details which will be
of interest to Irish readers. The distinguished subject of our memoir
was born at Camnish, near Dungiven, in the county of Derry, on the 3rd
of November, 1815. His father was the Rev. John Mitchel, at that time
Presbyterian Minister of Dungiven, and a good patriot, too, having
been--as we learn from a statement casually made by Mr. Mitchel in
Conciliation Hall--one of the United Irishmen of 1798. The maiden name
of his mother, who also came of a Presbyterian and county Derry family,
was Mary Haslitt. At Newry, whither the Rev. Mr. Mitchel removed in the
year 1823, and where he continued to reside till his death in 1843,
young John Mitchel was sent to the school of Dr. David Henderson, from
which he entered Trinity College, Dublin, about the year 1830 or 1831.
He did not reside within the college, but kept his terms by coming up
from the country to attend the quarterly examinations. Though he did not
distinguish himself in his college course, and had paid no more
attention to the books prescribed for his studies than seemed necessary
for passing his examinations respectably, John Mitchel was known to his
intimate friends to be a fine scholar and possessed of rare ability.
While still a college student, he was bound apprentice to a solicitor in
Newry. Before the completion of his apprenticeship, in the year 1835, he
married Jane Verner, a young lady of remarkable beauty, and only sixteen
years of age at the time, a daughter of Captain James Verner. Not long
after his marriage he entered into partnership in his profession, and in
conformity with the arrangements agreed upon, went to reside at
Banbridge, a town ten miles north of Newry, where he continued to
practice as a solicitor until the death of Thomas Davis in 1845. He had
been an occasional contributor to the _Nation_ almost from the date of
its foundation; its editors recognised at once his splendid literary
powers, and when the "Library of Ireland" was projected, pressed him to
write one of the volumes, suggesting as his subject the Life of Hugh
O'Neill. How ably he fulfilled the task is known to his countrymen, who
rightly regard the volume as one of the most valuable of the whole
series. When death removed the amiable and gifted Thomas Davis from the
scene of his labours, Mr. Duffy invited John Mitchel, as the man most
worthy of all in Ireland, to take his place. Mr. Mitchel regarded the
invitation as the call of his country. He gave up his professional
business in Banbridge, removed with his wife and family to Dublin, and
there throwing himself heart and soul into the cause, fought it out
boldly and impetuously until the day when, bound in British chains, "the
enemy" bore him off from Ireland.
* * * * *