While the jury in the case of Thomas Clarke Luby were absent from the
court deliberating on and framing their verdict, John O'Leary was put
forward to the bar.
He stepped boldly to the front, with a flash of fire in his dark eyes,
and a scowl on his features, looking hatred and defiance on judges,
lawyers, jurymen, and all the rest of them. All eyes were fixed on him,
for he was one of those persons whose exterior attracts attention and
indicates a character above the common. He was tall, slightly built, and
of gentlemanly deportment; every feature of his thin angular face gave
token of great intellectual energy and determination, and its pallid hue
was rendered almost death-like by contrast with his long black hair and
flowing moustache and beard. Easy it was to see that when the government
placed John O'Leary in the dock they had caged a proud spirit, and an
able and resolute enemy. He had come of a patriot stock, and from a part
of Ireland where rebels to English rule were never either few or
faint-hearted. He was born in the town of Tipperary, of parents whose
circumstances were comfortable, and who, at the time of their decease,
left him in possession of property worth a couple of hundred pounds per
annum. He was educated for the medical profession in the Queen's
College, Cork, spent some time in France, and subsequently visited
America, where he made the acquaintance of the chief organisers of the
Fenian movement, by whom he was regarded as a most valuable acquisition
to the ranks of the brotherhood. After his return to Ireland he
continued to render the Fenian cause such services as lay in his power,
and when James Stephens, who knew his courage and ability, invited him
to take the post of chief editor of the Fenian organ which he was about
to establish in Dublin, O'Leary readily obeyed the call, and accepted
the dangerous position. In the columns of the _Irish People_ he laboured
hard to defend and extend the principles of the Fenian organization
until the date of his arrest and the suppression of the paper.
The trial lasted from Friday, the 1st, up to Wednesday, the 6th of
December, when it was closed with a verdict of guilty and a sentence of
twenty years' penal servitude--Mr. Justice Fitzgerald remarking that no
distinction in the degree of criminality could be discovered between the
case of the prisoner and that of the previous convict. The following is
the address delivered by O'Leary, who appeared to labour under much
excitement, when asked in the usual terms if he had any reason to show
why sentence should not be passed upon him:--
"I was not wholly unprepared for this verdict, because I felt that
the government which could so safely pack the bench could not fail to
make sure of its verdict."
Mr. Justice Fitzgerald--"We are willing to hear anything in reason
from you, but we cannot allow language of that kind to be used."
Mr. O'Leary--"My friend Mr. Luby did not wish to touch on this matter
from a natural fear lest he should do any harm to the other political
prisoners; but there can be but little fear of that now, for a jury
has been found to convict me of this conspiracy upon the evidence.
Mr. Luby admitted that he was technically guilty according to British
law; but I say that it is only by the most torturing interpretation
that these men could make out their case against me. With reference
to this conspiracy there has been much misapprehension in Ireland,
and serious misapprehension. Mr. Justice Keogh said in his charge
against Mr. Luby that men would be always found ready for money, or
for some other motive, to place themselves at the disposal of the
government; but I think the men who have been generally bought in
this way, and who certainly made the best of the bargain, were
agitators and not rebels. I have to say one word in reference to the
foul charge upon which that miserable man, Barry, has made me
responsible."