The excitement caused by the startling events of which this country was
the scene in the summer of 1848 extended far beyond the shores of
Ireland. Away beyond the Atlantic the news from Ireland was watched for
with glistening eyes by the exiles who dwelt by the shores of Manhattan
or in the backwoods of Canada. Amongst the Irish colony in England the
agitation was still greater. Dwelling in the hearts of the monster towns
of England, the glow of the furnace lighting up their swarthy faces;
toiling on the canals, on the railways, in the steamboats; filling the
factories, plying their brawny hands where the hardest work was to be
done; hewers of wood, and drawers of water; living in the midst of the
English, yet separated from them by all the marks of a distinctive
nationality, by antagonistic feelings, by clashing interests, by jarring
creeds; such was the position of the men who carried the faith, the
traditions, the politics, and the purpose of Ireland into the heart of
the enemy's country. With their countrymen at home they were united by
the warmest ties of sympathy and affection. In London, in Manchester, in
Birmingham, in Leeds, Confederate Clubs were established, and active
measures taken for co-operating with the Young Ireland leaders in
whatever course they might think proper to adopt. In Liverpool those
clubs were organized on the most extensive scale; thousands of Irishmen
attended their weekly meetings, and speeches rivalling those delivered
at the Rotundo and at the Music Hall in fervour and earnestness were
spoken from their platforms. Amongst the Irishmen who figured
prominently at these gatherings there was one to whom the Irish in
Liverpool looked up with peculiar confidence and pride. He was young, he
was accomplished, he was wealthy, he filled a highly respectable
position in society; his name was connected by everyone with probity and
honour; and, above all, he was a nationalist, unselfish, enthusiastic,
and ardent. The Irishmen of Liverpool will not need to be told that we
speak of Terence Bellew M'Manus.
The agitation of 1848 found M'Manus in good business as a shipping
agent, his income being estimated by his Liverpool friends at ten or
twelve hundred a year. His patriotism was of too genuine a nature to be
merged in his commercial success, and M'Manus readily abandoned his
prospects and his position when his country seemed to require the
sacrifice. Instantly on discovering that the government were about to
suspend the _Habeas Corpus_ Act in Ireland, he took the steamer for
Dublin, bringing with him the green and gold uniform which he owned in
virtue of being a general of the '82 Club. In the same steamer came two
detectives sent specially to secure his arrest in Dublin. M'Manus drove
from the quay, where he landed, to the _Felon_ Office. He discovered
that all the Confederate leaders out of prison had gone southwards on
hostile thoughts intent; and M'Manus resolved on joining them without a
moment's hesitation. Having managed to give the detectives the slip, he
journeyed southwards to Tipperary and joined O'Brien's party at
Killenaule. He shared the fortunes of the insurgent leaders until the
dispersion at Ballingarry, where he fought with conspicuous bravery and
determination. He was the first to arrive before the house in which the
police took refuge, and the last to leave it. The Rev. Mr. Fitzgerald,
P.P., an eye witness, gives an interesting account of M'Manus' conduct
during the attack on the Widow M'Cormack's house. He says:--
"With about a dozen men more determined than the rest, was M'Manus,
who indeed throughout the whole day showed more courage and
resolution than anyone else. With a musket in his hand, and in the
face of the enemy, he reconnoitered the place, and observed every
accessible approach to the house, and with a few colliers, under
cover of a cart-load of hay, which they pushed on before them, came
up to the postern-door of the kitchen. Here with his own hand he
fired several pistol-shots, to make it ignite, but from the state of
the weather, which was damp and heavy, and from the constant
down-pour of rain on the previous day, this attempt proved quite
unsuccessful. With men so expert at the use of the pickaxe, and so
large a supply of blasting powder at the collieries, he could have
quickly undermined the house, or blown it up; but the circumstance of
so many children being shut in with the police, and the certainty
that, if they persevered, all would be involved in the same ruin,
compelled him and his associates to desist from their purpose."
When it became useless to offer further resistance, M'Manus retired with
the peasantry to the hills, and dwelt with them for several days. Having
shaved off his whiskers, and made some other changes in his appearance,
he succeeded in running the gauntlet though the host of spies and
detectives on his trail, and he was actually on board a large vessel on
the point of sailing for America from Cork harbour when arrested by the
police. His discovery was purely accidental; the police boarded the
vessel in chase of an absconding defaulter, but while prosecuting the
search one of the constables who had seen M'Manus occasionally in
Liverpool recognised him. At first he gave his name as O'Donnell, said
he was an Irish-American returning westward, after visiting his friends
in the old land. His answers, however, were not sufficiently consistent
to dissipate the constable's suspicion. He was brought ashore and taken
handcuffed before a magistrate, whereupon he avowed his name, and boldly
added that, he did not regret any act he had done, and would cheerfully
go through it again.
On the 10th of October, 1848, he was brought to trial for high treason
in Clonmel. He viewed the whole proceedings with calm indifference, and
when the verdict of guilty was brought in he heard the announcement with
unaltered mien. A fortnight later he was brought up to receive sentence;
Meagher and O'Donoghue had been convicted in the interim, and the three
confederates stood side by side in the dock to hear the doom of the
traitor pronounced against them. M'Manus was the first to speak in reply
to the usual formality, and his address was as follows:--
"My lords--I trust I am enough of a Christian and enough of a man to
understand the awful responsibility of the question which has been
put to me. Standing upon my native soil--standing in an Irish court
of justice, and before the Irish nation--I have much to say why the
sentence of death, or the sentence of the law, should not be passed
upon me. But upon entering into this court I placed my life--and what
is of more importance to me, my honour--in the hands of two
advocates, and if I had ten thousand lives and ten thousand honours,
I should be content to place them all in the watchful and glorious
genius of the one, and the patient zeal and talent of the other. I
am, therefore, content, and with regard to that I have nothing to
say. But I have a word to say, which no advocate, however anxious
and devoted he may be, can utter for me. I say, whatever part I may
have taken in the straggle for my country's independence, whatever
part I may have acted in my short career, I stand before you, my
lords, with a free heart and a light conscience, to abide the issue
of your sentence. And now, my lords, this is, perhaps, the fittest
time to put a sentence upon record, which is this--that standing in
this dock, and called to ascend the scaffold--it may be to-morrow--it
may be now--it may be never--whatever the result may be, I wish to
put this on record, that in the part I have taken I was not actuated
by enmity towards Englishmen--for among them I have passed some of
the happiest days of my life, and the most prosperous; and in no part
which I have taken was I actuated by enmity towards Englishmen
individually, whatever I may have felt of the injustice of English
rule in this island; I therefore say, that it is not because I loved
England less, but because I loved Ireland more, that I now stand
before you."
In 1851, M'Manus escaped from captivity in Van Dieman's Land, and he
soon after settled in California where he died. His funeral was the
greatest ever witnessed upon earth. From the shores of the Pacific
thousands of miles away, across continents and oceans they brought him,
and laid his ashes to rest in the land of his birth. On the 10th day of
November, 1861, that wonderful funeral passed through the streets of
Dublin to Glasnevin, and those who saw the gathering that followed his
coffin to the grave, the thousands of stalwart men that marched in
solemn order behind his bier will never forget the sight. A silent slab
unlettered and unmarked shows the spot where his remains were interred;
no storied urn or animated bust, no marble column or commemorative
tablet has been consecrated to his memory, but the history of his life
is graven in the hearts of his countrymen, and he enjoys in their
affectionate remembrance, a monument more enduring than human hands
could build him.
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