Mr. Dix--I can't at all allow this line of comment to be pursued--

Mr. Sullivan--With all respect for your worship, and while I am ready

to use any phrase most suitable for utterance here, I will not give

up my right to state and proclaim the fact, however unpalatable, when

it is notoriously true. I stand upon my rights to say, that you have

all the greater reason to pause, ere you send me, or any other

citizen, for trial before a jury in a crown prosecution at a moment

like the present, when trial by jury, as the theory of the

constitution supposes it, does not exist in the land. I say there is

now notoriously no fair trial by jury to be had in this country, as

between the subject and the crown. Never yet, in an important

political case, have the government in this country dared to allow

twelve men indifferently chosen, to pass into the jury-box to try the

issue between the subject and the crown. And now, sir, if you send

the case for trial, and suppose the government succeed by the juries

they are able to empanel here, with 'Fenian' ticketed on the backs of

the accused by the real governors of the country--the Heygates and

the Bruces--and if it is declared by you that in this land of

mourning it has become at last criminal even to mourn--what a victory

for the crown! Oh, sir, they have been for years winning such

victories, and thereby manufacturing conspiracies--driving people

from the open and legitimate expression of their sentiments into

corners to conspire and to hide. I stand here as a man against whom

some clamour has been raised for my efforts to save my countrymen

from the courses into which the government conduct has been driving

them, and I say that there is no more revolutionary agent in the land

than that persecution of authority which says to the people, "When we

strike you, we forbid you to weep." We meet the crown, foot to foot,

on its case here. We say we have committed no offence, but that the

prosecution against us has been instituted to subserve their party

exigencies, and that the government is straining and violating the

law. We challenge them to the issue, and even should they succeed in

obtaining from a crown jury a verdict against us, we have a wider

tribunal to appeal to--the decision of our own consciences and the

judgment of humanity (applause).

Mr. Murphy, Q.C., briefly replied. He asked his worship not to decide

that the procession was illegal, but that this case was one for a

court of law and a jury.

On this occasion it was unnecessary for Mr. Dix to take any "time to

consider his decision." All the accused were bound over in their own

recognizances to stand their trials at the forthcoming Commission in

Green-street court, on the 10th of February, 1868.

The plunge which the crown officials had shivered so long before

attempting had now been taken, and they determined to go through with

the work, _a l'outrance_. In the interval between the last police-court

scene described above, and the opening of the Green-street Commission,

in February, 1868, prosecutions were directly commenced against the

_Irishman_ and the _Weekly News_ for seditious writing. In the case of

the former journal the proprietor tried some skilfully-devised

preparatory legal moves and manoeuvers, not one of which of course

succeeded, though their justice and legality were apparent enough. In

the case of the latter journal--the _Weekly News_--the proprietor raised

no legal point whatsoever. The fact was that when he found the crown not

content with _one_ state prosecution against him (that for the funeral

procession), coming upon him with _a second_, he knew his doom was

sealed. He very correctly judged that legal moves would be all in

vain--that his conviction, _per fas aut ne fas_, was to be

obtained--that a jury would be packed against him--and that consequently

the briefest and most dignified course for him would be to go straight

to the conflict and meet it boldly.

On Monday, 10th February, 1868, the commission was opened in

Green-street, Dublin, before Mr. Justice Fitzgerald and Baron Deasy.

Soon a cunning and unworthy legal trick on the part of the crown was

revealed. The prosecuted processionists and journalists had been

indicted in the _city_ venue, had been returned for trial to the _city_

commission by a _city_ jury. But the government at the last moment

mistrusted a city jury in this instance--even a _packed_ city jury--and

without any notice to the traversers, sent the indictments before the

_county_ grand jury, so that they might be tried by a jury picked and

packed from the anti-Irish oligarchy of the Pale. It was an act of gross

illegality, hardship, and oppression. The illegality of such a course

had been ruled and decided in the case of Mr. Gavan Duffy in 1848. But

the point was raised vainly now. When Mr. Pigott, of the _Irishman_, was

called to plead, his counsel (Mr. Heron, Q.C.) insisted that he, the

traverser, was now in custody of the _city_ sheriff in accordance with

his recognizances, and could not without legal process be removed to the

county venue. An exciting encounter ensued between Mr. Heron and the

crown counsel, and the court took till next day to decide the point.

Next morning it was decided in favour of the crown, and Mr. Pigott was

about being arraigned, when, in order that he might not be prejudiced by

having attended pending the decision, the attorney-general said, "he

would shut his eyes to the fact that that gentleman was now in court,"

and would have him called immediately--an intimation that Mr. Pigott

might, if advised, try the course of refusing to appear. He did so

refuse. When next called, Mr. Pigott was not forthcoming, and on the

police proceeding to his office and residence that gentleman was not to

be found--having, as the attorney-general spitefully expressed it, "fled

from justice." Mr. Sullivan's case, had, of necessity, then to be

called; and this was exactly what the crown had desired to avoid, and

what Mr. Heron had aimed to secure. It was the secret of all the

skirmishing. A very general impression prevailed that the crown would

fail in getting a jury to convict Mr. Sullivan on any indictment

tinctured even ever so faintly with "Fenianism;" and it was deemed of

great importance to Mr. Pigott's case to force the crown to begin with

the one in which failure was expected--Mr. Sullivan having intimated his

perfect willingness to be either pushed to the front or kept to the

last, according as might best promise to secure the discomfiture of the

government. Mr. Heron had therefore so far out-manoeuvered the crown.

Mr. Sullivan appeared in court and announced himself ready for trial,

and the next morning was fixed for his arraignment. Up to this moment,

that gentleman had expressed his determination not only to discard legal

points, but to decline ordinary professional defence, and to address the

jury in his own behalf. Now, however, deferring to considerations

strongly pressed on him (set forth in his speech to the jury in the

funeral procession case), he relinquished this resolution; and, late on

the night preceding his trial, entrusted to Mr. Heron, Q.C., Mr. Crean,

and Mr. Molloy, his defence on this first prosecution.

Next morning, Saturday, 15th February, 1868, the trial commenced; a jury

was duly packed by the "stand-by" process, and notwithstanding a charge

by Justice Fitzgerald, which was, on the whole one of the fairest heard

in Ireland in a political case for many years, Mr. Sullivan was duly

convicted of having, by pictures and writings in his journal the _Weekly

News_, seditiously brought the crown and government into hatred and

contempt.

The government officials were jubilant. Mr. Pigott was next arraigned,

and after an exceedingly able defence by Mr. Heron, was likewise

convicted.

It was now very generally concluded that the government would be

satisfied with these convictions, and would not proceed with the funeral

procession cases. At all events, it was universally regarded as certain

that Mr. Sullivan would not be arraigned on the second or funeral

procession indictment, as he now stood convicted on the other--the press

charge. But it was not to be so. Elate with their success, the crown

officials thought they might even discard their doubts of a city jury;

and on Thursday morning, 20th February, 1868, John Martin, Alexander M.

Sullivan, Thomas Bracken, and J.J. Lalor,[A] were formally arraigned in

the _city_ venue. [Footnote A: Dr. Waters, in the interval since his

committal on this charge, had been arrested, and was now imprisoned,

under the Suspension of the _Habeas Corpus_ Act. He was not brought to

trial on the procession charge.]

It was a scene to be long remembered, that which was presented in the

Green-street court-house on that Thursday morning. The dogged

vindictiveness of the crown officials, in persisting with this second

prosecution, seemed to have excited intense feeling throughout the city,

and long before the proceedings opened the court was crowded in every

part with anxious spectators. When Mr. Martin entered, accompanied by

his brother-in-law, Dr. Simpson, and Mr. Ross Todd, and took his seat at

the travelers' bar, a low murmur of respectful sympathy, amounting to

applause, ran through the building. And surely it was a sight to move

the heart to see this patriot--this man of pure and stainless life,

this man of exalted character, of noble soul, and glorious

principles--standing once more in that spot where twenty years before he

stood confronting the same foe in the same righteous and holy

cause--standing once more at that bar whence, twenty years before, he

was led off manacled to a felon's doom for the crime of loving Ireland!

Many changes had taken place in the interval, but over the stern

integrity of _his_ soul time had wrought no change. He himself seemed to

recall at this moment his last "trial" scene on this spot, and, as he

cast his gaze around, one could detect on his calm thoughtful face

something of sadness, yet of pride, as memory doubtless pictured the

spectacle of twenty years ago.

Mr. Sullivan, Mr. Bracken, and Mr. Lalor, arrived soon after, and

immediately the judges appeared on the bench the proceedings began.

On their lordships, Mr. Justice Fitzgerald and Mr. Baron Deasy,

taking their seats upon the bench,

Mr. Smartt (deputy clerk of the crown) called upon John Martin,

Alexander M. Sullivan, John J. Lalor, and Thomas Bracken, to come and

appear as they were bound to do in discharge of their recognizances.

All the traversers answered.

Mr. Smartt then proceeded to arraign the traversers under an

indictment charging in the first count--"That John Martin, John C.

Waters, John J. Lalor, Alexander M. Sullivan, and Thomas Bracken,

being malicious, seditious, and ill-disposed persons, and intending

to disturb the peace and tranquillity of the realm, and to excite

discontent and disaffection, and to excite the subjects of our Lady

the Queen in Ireland to hatred and dislike of the government, the

laws, and the administration of the laws of this realm, on the 8th

day of December, in the year of our Lord, 1867, unlawfully did

assemble and meet together with divers other persons, amounting to a

large number--to wit, fifteen thousand persons--for the purpose of

exciting discontent and disaffection, and for the purpose of exciting

her Majesty's subjects in Ireland to hatred of her government and the

laws of this realm, in contempt of our Lady the Queen, in open

violation of the laws of this realm, and against the peace of our

Lady the Queen, her crown and dignity." The second count charged that

the defendants intended "to cause it to be believed that the three

men who had been duly tried, found guilty, and sentenced, according

to law, for murder, at Manchester, in England, had been illegally and

unjustly executed; and to excite hatred, dislike, and disaffection

against the administration of justice, and the laws of this realm,

for and in respect of the execution of the said three men." A third

count charged the publication at the unlawful assembly laid in the

first and second counts of the false and seditious words contained in

Mr. John Martin's speech. A fourth and last count was framed under

the Party Processions' Act, and charged that the defendants "did

unlawfully meet, assemble, and parade together, and were present at

and did join in a procession with divers others, and did bear, wear,

and have amongst them in said procession certain emblems and symbols,

the display whereof was calculated to and did tend to provoke

animosity between different classes of her Majesty's subjects,

against the form of the statute in such case made and provided, and

against the peace of our Lady the Queen, her crown and dignity."

The traversers severally pleaded not guilty.

The Attorney-General, the Solicitor-General, Dr. Ball, Q.C.; Mr.

Charles Shaw, Q.C.; Mr. James Murphy, Q.C.; Mr. R.H. Owen, Q.C.; and

Mr. Edward Beytagh, instructed by Mr. Anderson, Crown Solicitor,

appeared to prosecute.

Mr. Martin, Mr. Sullivan, and Mr. Bracken were not professionally

assisted.

Mr. Michael T. Crean, instructed by Mr. John T. Scallan, appeared for

Mr. Lalor.

And now came the critical stage of the case. _Would the crown pack the

jury?_ The clerk of the crown began to call the panel, when--

John Keegan was called and ordered to stand by on the part of the

crown.

Mr. Sullivan--My lord, have I any right to challenge?

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald--You have Mr. Sullivan, for cause.

Mr. Sullivan--And can the crown order a juror to stand by without a

cause assigned?

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald--The crown has a right to exercise that

privilege.

Mr. Sullivan--Well, I will exercise no challenge, for cause or

without cause. Let the crown select a jury now as it pleases.

Subsequently George M'Cartney was called, and directed to stand by.

Patrick Ryan was also ordered to stand by.

Mr. Martin--I protest against this manner of selecting a jury. I do

so publicly.

J.J. Lalor--I also protest against it.

Thomas Bracken--And I also.

The sensation produced by this scene embarrassed the crown officials not

a little. It dragged to light the true character of their proceeding.

Eventually the following twelve gentlemen were suffered by the crown to

pass into the box as a "jury"--[Footnote: Not one Catholic was allowed

to pass into the box. Every Catholic who came to the box was ordered to

"_Stand by_."]

SAMUEL EAKINS, Foreman.

WILLIAM DOWNES GRIFFITH.

EDWARD GATCHELL.

THOMAS MAXWELL HUTTON.

MAURICE KERR.

WILLIAM LONGFIELD.

JOSEPH PURSER.

THOMAS PAUL.

JAMES REILLY.

JOHN GEORGE SHIELS.

WILLIAM O'BRIEN SMYTH.

GEORGE WALSH.

The Solicitor-General, Mr. Harrison, stated the case for the

prosecution. Next the police repeated their evidence--their description

of the procession--as given before the magistrates, and the government

short-hand writer proved Mr. Martin's speech. The only witnesses now

produced who had not testified at the preliminary stage were a

Manchester policeman named Seth Bromley, who had been one of the van

escort on the day of the rescue, and the degraded and infamous crown

spy, Corridon. The former--eager as a beagle on the scent to run down

the prey before him--left the table amidst murmurs of derision and

indignation evoked by his over-eagerness on his direct examination, and

his "fencing" and evasion on cross-examination. The spy Corridon was

produced "to prove the existence of the Fenian conspiracy." Little

notice was taken of him. Mr. Crean asked him barely a trivial question

or two. Mr. Martin and Mr. Sullivan, when asked if they desired to

cross-examine him, replied silently by gestures of loathing; and the

wretch left the table--crawled from it--like a crippled murderer from

the scene of his crime.

This closed the case for the crown, and Mr. Crean, counsel for Mr.

Lalor, rose to address the jury on behalf of his client. His speech was

argumentative, terse, forcible, and eloquent; and seemed to please and

astonish not only the auditors but the judges themselves, who evidently

had not looked for so much ability and vigour in the young advocate

before them. Although the speeches of professional advocates do not come

within the scope of this publication, Mr. Crean's vindication of the

national colour of Ireland--probably the most telling passage in his

address--has an importance which warrants its quotation here:--

Gentlemen, it is attempted in this case to make the traversers

amenable under the Party Processions' Act, because those in the

procession wore green ribbons. Gentlemen, this is the first time, in

the history of Irish State Prosecutions which mark the periods of

gloom and peril in this country, that the wearing of a green ribbon

has been formally indicted; and I may say it is no good sign of the

times that an offence which has been hitherto unknown to the law

should now crop up for the first time in this year of grace, one

thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight. Not even in the worst days of

Lord Castlereagh's ill-omened regime was such an attempt as this made

to degrade the green of Ireland into a party colour, and to make that

which has long been regarded as a national emblem the symbol of a

faction. Gentlemen, there is no right-minded or right-hearted

man--looking back upon the ruinous dissensions and bitter conflicts

which have been the curse and bane of this country--who will not

reprobate any effort to revive and perpetuate them. There is no

well-disposed man in the community who will not condemn and crush

those persons--no matter on what side they may stand--who make

religion, which should be the fountain and mother of all peace and

blessings, the cause of rancour and animosity. We have had,

unhappily, gentlemen, too much of this in Ireland. We have been too

long the victims of that wayward fate of which the poet wrote, when

he said:--

"Whilst our tyrants join in hate,

We never joined in love."

But, gentlemen, I will ask of you if you ever before heard, until

this time, that the green of Ireland was the peculiar colour of any

particular sect, creed, or faction, or that any of the people of this

country wore it as the peculiar emblem of their party, and for the

purpose of giving annoyance and of offering insult to some other

portion of their fellow-countrymen. I must say that I never heard

before that Catholic or Protestant, or Quaker or Moravian, laid claim

to this colour as a symbol of party. I thought all Irishmen, no

matter what altar they bowed before, regarded the green as the

national colour of Ireland. If it is illegal to wear the green, all I

can say is that the Constabulary are guilty of a constant and

continuing breach of the law. The Lord and Lady Lieutenant will

probably appear on next Patrick's Day, decorated with large bunches

of green shamrock. Many of the highest officials of the government

will do the same; and is it to be thought for one moment that they,

by wearing this green emblem of Ireland and of Irish nationality, are

violating the law of the land. Gentlemen, it is perfectly absurd to

think so. I hope this country has not yet so fallen as that it has

become a crime to wear the green. I trust we have not yet come to

that pass of national degradation, that a jury of Irishmen can be

found so forgetful of their country's dignity and of their own as to

brand with a mark of infamy a colour which is associated with so many

recollections, not of party triumphs, but of national glories--not

with any sect, or creed, or party, but with a nation and a race whose

children, whether they were the exiled soldiers of a foreign state,

or the soldiers of Great Britain--whether at Fontenoy or on the

plains of Waterloo, or on the heights of Fredericksburgh, have nobly

vindicated the chivalry and fame of Ireland! It is for them that the

green has its true meaning. It is to the Irishman in a distant land

this emblem is so dear, for it is entwined in his memory, not with

any miserable faction, but with the home and the country which gave

him birth. I do hope that Irishmen will never be ashamed in this

country to wear the green, and I hope an attempt will never again be

made in an Irish court of justice to punish Irishmen for wearing that

which is a national colour, and of which every man who values his

country should feel proud.

When Mr. Crean resumed his seat--which he did amidst strong

manifestations of applause--it was past three o'clock in the afternoon.

It was not expected that the case would have proceeded so far by that

hour, and Mr. Martin and Mr. Sullivan, who intended each to speak in his

own behalf, did not expect to rise for that purpose before next day,

when it was arranged that Mr. Martin would speak first, and Mr. Sullivan

follow him. Now, however, it was necessary some one of them should rise

to his defence, and Mr. Martin urged that Mr. Sullivan should begin.

By this time the attendance in court, which, during the

Solicitor-General's speech and the crown evidence, thinned down

considerably, had once more grown too great for the fair capacity of the

building. There was a crush within, and a crowd without. When Mr.

Sullivan was seen to rise, after a moment's hurried consultation with

Mr. Martin, who sat beside him, there was a buzz, followed by an anxious

silence. For a moment the accused paused, almost overcome (as well he

might have been) by a sense of the responsibility of this novel and

dangerous course. But he quickly addressed himself to the critical task

he had undertaken, and spoke as follows:--[Footnote: As Mr. Sullivan

delivered this speech without even the ordinary assistance of written

notes or memoranda, the report here quoted is that which was published

in the newspapers of the time. Some few inaccuracies which he was

precluded from correcting then (being a prisoner when this speech was

first published), have been corrected for this publication.]

My lords and gentlemen of the jury--I rise to address you under

circumstances of embarassment which will, I hope, secure for me a

little consideration and indulgence at your hands. I have to ask you

at the outset to banish any prejudice that might arise in your minds

against a man who adopts the singular course--who undertakes the

serious responsibility--of pleading his own defence. Such a

proceeding might be thought to be dictated either by disparagement of

the ordinary legal advocacy, by some poor idea of personal vanity, or

by way of reflection on the tribunal before which the defence is

made. My conduct is dictated by neither of these considerations or

influences. Last of all men living should I reflect upon the ability,

zeal, and fidelity of the Bar of Ireland, represented as it has been

in my own behalf within the past two days by a man whose heart and

genius are, thank God, still left to the service of our country, and

represented, too, as it has been here this day by that gifted young

advocate, the echoes of whose eloquence still resound in this court,

and place me at disadvantage in immediately following him. And

assuredly I design no disrespect to this court; either to tribunal in

the abstract, or to the individual judges who preside; from one of

whom I heard two days ago delivered in my own case a charge of which

I shall say--though followed by a verdict which already consigns me

to a prison--that it was, judging it as a whole, the fairest, the

clearest, the most just and impartial ever given to my knowledge, in

a political case of this kind in Ireland between the subject and the

crown. No; I stand here in my own defence to-day, because long since

I formed the opinion that, on many grounds, in such a prosecution as

this, such a course would be the most fair and most consistent for a

man like me. That resolution I was, for the sake of others, induced

to depart from on Saturday last, in the first prosecution against me.

When it came to be seen that I was the first to be tried out of two

journalists prosecuted, it was strongly urged on me that my course,

and the result of my trial, might largely affect the case of the

other journalist to be tried after, me; and that I ought to waive my

individual views and feelings, and have the utmost legal ability

brought to bear in behalf of the case of the national press at the

first point of conflict. I did so. I was defended by a bar not to be

surpassed in the kingdom for ability and earnest zeal; yet the result

was what I anticipated. For I knew, as I had held all along, that in

a case like this, where law and fact are left to the jury, legal

ability is of no avail if the crown comes in with its arbitrary power

of moulding the jury. In that case, as in this one, I openly,

publicly, and distinctly announced that I for my part would challenge

no one, whether with cause or without cause. Yet the crown--in the

face of this fact--and in a case where they knew that at least the

accused had no like power of peremptory challenge--did not venture to

meet me on equal footing; did not venture to abstain from their

practice of absolute challenge; in fine, did not dare to trust their

case to twelve men "indifferently chosen," as the constitution

supposes a jury to be. Now, gentlemen, before I enter further upon

this jury question, let me say that with me this is no complaint

merely against "the Tories." On this as well as on numerous other

subjects, it is well known that it has been my unfortunate lot to

arraign both Whigs and Tories. I say further, that I care not a jot

whether the twelve men selected or permitted by the crown to try me,

or rather to convict me, by twelve of my own co-religionists and

political compatriots, or twelve Protestants, Conservatives, Tories,

or "Orangemen." Understand me clearly on this. My objection is not to

the individuals comprising the jury. You may be all Catholics, or you

may be all Protestants, for aught that affects my protest, which is

against the mode by which you are selected--selected by the

crown--their choice for their own ends--and not "indifferently

chosen" between the crown and the accused. You may disappoint, or you

may justify the calculations of the crown official, who has picked

you out from the panel, by negative or positive choice (I being

silent and powerless)--you may or may not be all he supposes--the

outrage on the spirit of the constitution is the same. I say, by such

a system of picking a jury by the crown, I am not put upon my

country. Gentlemen, from the first moment these proceedings were

commenced against me, I think it will be admitted that I endeavoured

to meet them fairly and squarely, promptly and directly. I have never

once turned to the right or to the left, but gone straight to the

issue. I have from the outset declared my perfect readiness to meet

the charges of the crown. I did not care when or where they tried me.

I said I would avail of no technicality--that I would object to no

juror--Catholic, Protestant, or Dissenter. All I asked--all I

demanded--was to be "put upon my country," in the real, fair, and

full sense and spirit of the constitution. All I asked was that the

crown would keep its hand off the panel, as I would keep off mine. I

had lived fifteen years in this city; and I should have lived in

vain, if, amongst the men that knew me in that time, whatever might

be their political or religious creed, I feared to have my acts, my

conduct, or principles tried. It is the first and most original

condition of society that a man shall subordinate his public acts to

the welfare of the community, or at least acknowledge the right of

those amongst whom his lot is cast, to judge him on such an issue as

this. Freely I acknowledge that right. Readily have I responded to

the call to submit to the judgment of my country, the question

whether, in demonstrating my sorrow and sympathy for misfortune, my

admiration for fortitude, my vehement indignation against what I

considered to be injustice, I had gone too far and invaded the rights

of the community. Gentlemen, I desire in all that I have to say to

keep or be kept within what is regular and seemly, and above all to

utter nothing wanting in respect for the court; but I do say, and I

do protest, that I have not got trial by jury according to the spirit

and meaning of the constitution. It is as representatives of the

general community, not as representatives of the crown officials, the

constitution supposes you to sit in that box. If you do not fairly

represent the community, and if you are not empanelled indifferently

in that sense, you are no jury in the spirit of the constitution. I

care not how the crown practice may be within the technical letter of

the law, it violates the intent and meaning of the constitution, and

it is not "trial by jury." Let us suppose the scene removed, say, to

France. A hundred names are returned on what is called a panel by a

state functionary for the trial of a journalist charged with

sedition. The accused is powerless to remove any name from the list

unless for over-age or non-residence. But the imperial prosecutor has

the arbitrary power of ordering as many as he pleases to "stand

aside." By this means he puts or allows on the jury only whomsoever

he pleases. He can, beforehand, select the twelve, and, by wiping

out, if it suits him, the eighty-eight other names, put the twelve of

his own choosing into the box. Can this be called trial by jury?

Would not it be the same thing, in a more straightforward way, to let

the crown-solicitor send out a policeman and collect twelve

well-accredited persons of his own mind and opinion? For my own part,

I would prefer this plain-dealing, and consider far preferable the

more rude but honest hostility of a drum-head court martial (applause

in the court). Again I say, understand me well, I am objecting to the

principle, the system, the practice, and not to the twelve gentlemen

now before me as individuals. Personally, I am confident that being

citizens of Dublin, whatever your views or opinions, you are

honourable and conscientious men. You may have strong prejudices

against me or my principles in public life--very likely you have; but

I doubt not that though these may unconsciously tinge your judgment

and influence your verdict, you will not consciously violate the

obligations of your oath. And I care not whether the crown, in

permitting you to be the twelve, ordered three, or thirteen, or

thirty others to "stand by"--or whether those thus arbitrarily put

aside were Catholics or Protestants, Liberals, Conservatives, or

Nationalists--the moment the crown put its finger at all on the

panel, in a case where the accused had no equal right, the essential

character of the jury was changed, and the spirit of the constitution

was outraged. And now, what is the charge against my

fellow-traversers and myself? The solicitor-general put it very

pithily awhile ago when he said our crime was "glorifying the cause

of murder." The story of the crown is a very terrible, a very

startling one. It alleges a state of things which could hardly be

supposed to exist amongst the Thugs of India. It depicts a population

so hideously depraved that thirty thousand of them in one place, and

tens of thousands in various other places, arrayed themselves

publicly in procession to honour and glorify murder--to sympathise

with murderers as murderers. Yes, gentlemen, that is the crown case,

or they have no case at all--that the funeral procession in Dublin on

the 8th December last was a demonstration of sympathy with murder as

murder. For you will have noted that never once in his smart

narration of the crown story, did Mr. Harrison allow even the

faintest glimmer to appear of any other possible complexion or

construction of our conduct. Why, I could have imagined it easy for

him not merely to state his own case, but to state ours too, and show

where we failed, and where his own side prevailed. I could easily

imagine Mr. Harrison stating our view of the matter--and combatting

it. But he never once dared to even mention our case. His whole aim

was to hide it from you, and to fasten, as best such efforts of his

could fasten, in your minds this one miserable refrain--"They

glorified the cause of murder and assassination." But this is no new

trick. It is the old story of the maligners of our people. They call

the Irish a turbulent, riotous, crime-loving, law-hating race. They

are for ever pointing to the unhappy fact--for, gentlemen, it is a

fact--that between the Irish people and the laws under which they now

live there is little or no sympathy, but bitter estrangement and

hostility of feeling or of action. Bear with me if I examine this

charge, since an understanding of it is necessary in order to judge

our conduct on the 8th December last. I am driven upon this extent of

defence by the singular conduct of the solicitor-general, who, with a

temerity which he will repent, actually opened the page of Irish

history, going back upon it just so far as it served his own purpose,

and no farther. Ah! fatal hour for my prosecutors when they appealed

to history. For assuredly, that is the tribunal that will vindicate

the Irish people, and confound those who malign them as sympathisers

with assassination and glorifiers of murder--

Solicitor-General--My lord, I must really call upon you--I deny that

I ever--

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald--Proceed, Mr. Sullivan.

Mr. Sullivan--My lord, I took down the solicitor-general's words. I

quote them accurately as he spoke them, and he cannot get rid of them

now. "Glorifiers of the cause of murder" was his designation of my

fellow-traversers and myself, and our fifty thousand fellow-mourners

in the funeral procession; and before I sit down I will make him rue

the utterance. Gentlemen of the jury, if British law be held in

"disesteem"--as the crown prosecutors phrase it--here in Ireland,

there is an explanation for that fact, other than that supplied by

the solicitor-general; namely, the wickedness of seditious persons

like myself, and the criminal sympathies of a people ever ready to

"glorify the cause of murder." Mournful, most mournful, is the lot of

that land where the laws are not respected--nay, revered by the

people. No greater curse could befall a country than to have the laws

estranged from popular esteem, or in antagonism with the national

sentiment. Everything goes wrong under such a state of things. The

ivy will cling to the oak, and the tendrils of the vine reach forth

towards strong support. But more anxiously and naturally still does

the human heart instinctively seek an object of reverence and love,

as well as of protection and support, in law, authority, sovereignty.

At least, among a virtuous people like ours, there is ever a yearning

for those relations which are, and ought to be, as natural between a

people and their government as between the children and the parent. I

say for myself, and I firmly believe I speak the sentiments of most

Irishmen when I say, that so far from experiencing satisfaction, we

experience pain in our present relations with the law and governing

power; and we long for the day when happier relations may be restored

between the laws and the national sentiment in Ireland. We Irish are

no race of assassins or "glorifiers of murder." From the most remote

ages, in all centuries, it has been told of our people that they were

pre-eminently a justice-loving people. Two hundred and fifty years

ago the predecessor of the solicitor-general--an English

attorney-general--it may be necessary to tell the learned gentleman

that his name was Sir John Davis (for historical as well as

geographical knowledge[B] seems to be rather scarce amongst the

present law officers of the crown), (laughter)--held a very different

opinion of them from that put forth to-day by the solicitor-general.

Sir John Davis said no people in the world loved equal justice more

than the Irish even where the decision was against themselves. That

character the Irish have ever borne and bear still. But if you want

the explanation of this "disesteem" and hostility for British law,

you must trace effect to cause. It will not do to stand by the river

side near where it flows into the sea, and wonder why the water

continues to run by. Not I--not my fellow-traversers--not my

fellow-countrymen--are accountable for the antagonism between law and

popular sentiment in this country. Take up the sad story where you

will--yesterday, last month, last year, last century--two centuries

ago, three centuries, five centuries, six centuries--and what will

you find? English law presenting itself to the Irish people in a

guise forbidding sympathy or respect, and evoking fear and

resentment. Take it at its birth in this country. Shake your minds

free of legal theories and legal fictions, and deal with facts. This

court where I now stand is the legal and political heir, descendant,

and representative of the first law court of the Pale six or seven

centuries ago. Within that Pale were a few thousand English settlers,

and of them alone did the law take cognizance. The Irish nation--the

millions outside the Pale--were known only as "the king's Irish

enemie." The law classed them with the wild beasts of nature whom it

was lawful to slay. Later on in our history we find the Irish near

the Pale sometimes asking to be admitted to the benefits of English

law, since they were forbidden to have any of their own; but their

petitions were refused. Gentlemen, this was English law as it stood

towards the Irish people for centuries; and wonder, if you will, that

the Irish people held it in "disesteem:--[Footnote B: On Mr.

Sullivan's first trial the solicitor-general, until stopped and

corrected by the court, was suggesting to the jury that there was no

such place as Knockrochery, and that a Fenian proclamation which had

been published in the _Weekly News_ as having been posted at that

place, was, in fact, composed in Mr. Sullivan's Office. Mr. Justice

Deasy, however, pointedly corrected and reproved this blunder on the

part of Mr. Harrison.]

"The Irish were denied the right of bringing actions in any of

the English courts in Ireland for trespasses to their lands, or

for assaults or batteries to their persons. Accordingly, it was

answer enough to the action in such a case to say that the

plaintiff was an Irishman, unless he could produce a special

charter giving him the rights of an Englishman. If he sought

damage against an Englishman for turning him out of his land,

for the seduction of his daughter Nora, or for the beating of

his wife Devorgil, or for the driving off of his cattle, it was

a good defence to say he was a mere Irishman. And if an

Englishman was indicted for manslaughter, if the man slain was

an Irishman, he pleaded that the deceased was of the Irish

nation, and that it was no felony to kill an Irishman. For this,

however, there was a fine of five marks payable to the king; but

mostly they killed us for nothing. If it happened that the man

killed was a servant of an Englishman, he added to the plea of

the deceased being an Irishman, that if the master should ever

demand damages, he would be ready to satisfy him."

That was the egg of English law in Ireland. That was the seed--that

was the plant--do you wonder if the tree is not now esteemed and

loved? If you poison a stream at its source, will you marvel if down

through all its courses the deadly element is present? Now trace from

this, its birth, English law in Ireland--trace down to this hour--and

examine when or where it ever set itself to a reconciliation with the

Irish people. Observe the plain relevancy of this to my case. I, and

men like me, are held accountable for bringing law into hatred and

contempt in Ireland: and in presenting this charge against me the

solicitor-general appealed to history. I retort the charge on my

accusers; and I will trace down to our own day the relations of

hostility which English law itself established between itself and the

people of Ireland. Gentlemen, for four hundred years--down to

1607--the Irish people had no existence in the eye of the law; or

rather much worse, were viewed by it as "the King's Irish enemie."

But even within the Pale, how did it recommend itself to popular

reverence and affection? Ah, gentlemen, I will show that in those

days, just as there have been in our own, there were executions and

scaffold-scenes which evoked popular horror and resentment--though

they were all "according to law," and not be questioned unless by

"seditionists." The scaffold streamed with the blood of those whom

the people loved and revered--how could they love and revere the

scaffold? Yet, 'twas all "according to law." The sanctuary was

profaned and rifled; the priest was slain or banished--'twas all

"according to law," no doubt, and to hold law in "disesteem" is

"sedition." Men were convicted and executed "according to law;" yet

the people demonstrated sympathy for them, and resentment against

their executioners--most perversely, as a solicitor-general,

doubtless, would say. And, indeed, the State Papers contain accounts

of those demonstrations written by crown officials which sound very

like the solicitor-general's speech to-day. Take, for instance, the

execution--"according to law"--of the "Popish bishop" O'Hurley. Here

is the letter of a state functionary on the subject:--

"I could not before now so impart to her Majesty as to know her

mind touching the same for your lordship's direction. Wherefore,

she having at length resolved, I have accordingly, by her

commandment, to signify her Majesty's pleasure unto you touching

Hurley, which is this:--That the man being so notorious and ill

a subject, as appeareth by all the circumstances of his cause he

is, you proceed, if it may be, to his execution by ordinary

trial of him for it. How be it, in case you shall find the

effect of his course DOUBTFUL by reason of the affection of such

as shall be on his jury, and by reason of the supposal conceived

by the lawyers of that country, that he can hardly be found

guilty for his treason committed in foreign parts against her

Majesty. Then her pleasure is you take A SHORTER WAY WITH HIM,

by martial law. So, as you may see, it is referred to your

discretion, whether of those two ways your lordship will take

with him, and the man being so resolute to reveal no more

matter, it is thought best to have no FURTHER TORTURES used

against him, but that you proceed FORTHWITH TO HIS EXECUTION in

manner aforesaid. As for her Majesty's good acceptation of your

careful travail in this matter of Hurley, you need nothing to

doubt, and for your better assurance thereof she has commanded

me to let your lordship understand that, as well as in all

others the like, as in the case of Hurley, she cannot but

greatly allow and commend YOUR DOINGS."

Well, they put his feet into tin boots filled with oil, and then

placed him standing in the fire. Eventually they cut off his head,

tore out his bowels, and cut the limbs from his body. Gentlemen,

'twas all "according to law;" and to demonstrate sympathy for him and

"disesteem" of that law was "sedition." But do you wonder greatly

that law of that complexion failed to secure popular sympathy and

respect? One more illustration, gentlemen, taken from a period

somewhat later on. It is the execution--"according to law,"

gentlemen; entirely "according to law"--of another Popish bishop

named O'Devany. The account is that of a crown official of the

time--some most worthy predecessor of the solicitor-general. I read

it from the recently published work of the Rev. C.P. Meehaun. "On the

28th of January, the bishop and priest, being arraigned at the King's

Bench, were each condemned of treason, and adjudged to be executed

the Saturday following; which day being come, a priest, or two of the

Pope's brood, with holy water and other holy stuffs"--(no sneer was

that at all, gentlemen; no sneer at Catholic practices, for a crown

official never sneers at Catholic practices)--"were sent to sanctify

the gallows whereon they were to die. About two o'clock, p.m., the

traitors were delivered to the sheriffs of Dublin, who placed them in

a small car, which was followed by a great multitude. As the car

progressed the spectators knelt down; but the bishop sitting still,

like a block, would not vouchsafe them a word, or turn his head

aside. The multitude, however, following the car, made such a dole

and lamentation after him, as the heavens themselves resounded the

echoes of their outcries." (Actually a seditious funeral

procession--made up of the ancestors of those thirty-thousand men,

women, and children, who, according to the solicitor-general,

glorified the cause of murder on the 8th of last December.) "Being

come to the gallows, whither they were followed by troops of the

citizens, men and women of all classes, most of the best being

present, the latter kept up such a shrieking, such a howling, and

such a hallooing, as if St. Patrick himself had been gone to the

gallows, could not have made greater signs of grief; but when they

saw him turned from off the gallows, they raised the _whobub_ with

such a maine cry, as if the rebels had come to rifle the city. Being

ready to mount the ladder, when he was pressed by some of the

bystanders to speak, he repeated frequently _Sine me quæso_. The

executioner had no sooner taken off the bishop's head, but the

townsmen of Dublin began to flock about him, some taking up the head

with pitying aspect, accompanied with sobs and sighs; some kissed it

with as religious an appetite as ever they kissed the Pax; some cut

away all the hair from the head, which they preserved for a relic;

some others were practisers to steal the head away, but the

executioner gave notice to the sheriffs. Now, when he began to

quarter the body, the women thronged about him, and happy was she

that could get but her handkerchief dipped in the blood of the

traitor; and the body being once dissevered in four quarters, they

neither left, finger nor toe, but they cut them off and carried them

away; and some others that could get no holy monuments that

appertained to his person, with their knives they shaved off chips

from the hallowed gallows; neither could they omit the halter

wherewith he was hanged, but it was rescued for holy uses. The same

night after the execution, a great crowd flocked about the gallows,

and there spent the fore part of the night in heathenish howling, and

performing many Popish ceremonies; and after midnight, being then

Candlemas day, in the morning having their priests present in

readiness, they had Mass after Mass till, daylight being come, they

departed to their own houses." There was "sympathy with sedition" for

you, gentlemen. No wonder the crown official who tells the

story--same worthy predecessor of Mr. Harrison--should be horrified

at such a demonstration. I will sadden you with no further

illustrations of English law, but I think it will be admitted that

after centuries of such law, one need not wonder if the people hold

it in "hatred and contempt." With the opening of the seventeenth

century, however, came a golden and glorious opportunity for ending

that melancholy--that terrible state of things. In the reign of James

I., English law, for the first time, extended to every corner of this

kingdom. The Irish came into the new order of things frankly and in

good faith; and if wise counsels prevailed then amongst our rulers,

oh, what a blessed ending there might have been to the bloody feud of

centuries. The Irish submitted to the Gaelic King, to whom had come

in the English crown. In their eyes he was of a friendly, nay of a

kindred race. He was of a line of Gaelic kings that had often

befriended Ireland. Submitting to him was not yielding to the brutal

Tudor. Yes, that was the hour, the blessed opportunity for laying the

foundation of a real union between the three kingdoms; a union of

equal national rights under the one crown. This was what the Irish

expected; and in this sense they in that hour accepted the new

dynasty. And it is remarkable that from that day to this, though

England has seen bloody revolutions and violent changes of rulers,

Ireland has ever held faithfully--too faithfully--to the sovereignty

thus adopted. But how were they received? How were their expectations

met? By persecution, proscription, and wholesale plunder, even by

that miserable Stuart. His son came to the throne. Disaffection broke

out in England and Scotland. Scottish Protestant Fenians, called

"Covenanters," took the field against him, because of the attempt to

establish Episcopalian Protestantism as a state church. By armed

rebellion against their lawful king, I regret to say it, they won

rights which now most largely tend to make Scotland contented and

loyal. I say it is to be regretted that those rights were thus won;

for I say that even at best it is a good largely mixed with evil

where rights are won by resorts of violence or revolution. His

concessions to the Calvanist Fenians in Scotland did not save

Charles. The English Fenians, under their Head Centre Cromwell, drove

him from the throne and murdered him on a scaffold in London. How did

the Irish meanwhile act? They stood true to their allegiance. They

took the field for the King. What was the result? They were given

over to slaughter and plunder by the brutal soldiery of the English

Fenians. Their nobles and gentry were beggared and proscribed; their

children were sold as white slaves to West Indian planters; and their

gallant struggles for the king, their sympathy for the royalist

cause, was actually denounced by the English Fenians as "sedition,"

"rebellion," "lawlessness," "sympathy with crime." Ah, gentlemen, the

evils thus planted in our midst will survive, and work their

influence; yet some men wonder that English law is held in

"disesteem" in Ireland. Time went on, gentlemen; time went on.

Another James sat on the throne; and again English Protestant

Fenianism conspired for the overthrow of their sovereign. They

invited "foreign emissaries" to come over from Holland and Sweden, to

begin the revolution for them. They drove their legitimate king from

the throne--never more to return. How did the Irish act in that hour?

Alas! Ever too loyal--ever only too ready to stand by the throne and

laws if only treated with justice or kindliness--they took the field

for the king, not against him. He landed on our shores; and had the

English Fenians rested content with rebelling themselves, and allowed

us to remain loyal as we desired to be, we might now be a

neighbouring but friendly and independent kingdom under the ancient

Stuart line. King James came here and opened his Irish parliament in

person. Oh, who will say in that brief hour at least the Irish nation

was not reconciled to the throne and laws? King, parliament, and

people, were blended in one element of enthusiasm, joy, and hope, the

first time for ages Ireland had known such a joy. Yes--

We, too, had our day--it was brief, it is ended--

When a King dwelt among us--no strange King--but OURS.

When the shout of a people delivered ascended,

And shook the green banner that hung on yon towers,

We saw it like leaves in the summer-time shiver;

We read the gold legend that blazoned it o'er--

"To-day--now or never; to-day and for ever"--

Oh, God! have we seen it to see it no more!

(Applause in court). Once more the Irish people bled and sacrificed

for their loyalty to the throne and laws. Once more confiscation

devastated the land, and the blood of the loyal and true was poured

like rain. The English Fenians and the foreign emissaries triumphed,

aided by the brave Protestant rebels of Ulster. King William came to

the throne--a prince whose character is greatly misunderstood in

Ireland: a brave, courageous soldier, and a tolerant man, could he

have had his way. The Irish who had fought and lost, submitted on

terms, and had law even now been just or tolerant, it was open to the

revolutionary _regime_ to have made the Irish good subjects. But what

took place? The penal code came, in all its horror to fill the Irish

heart with hatred and resistance. I will read for you what a

Protestant historian--a man of learning and ability--who is now

listening to me in this court--has written of that code. I quote

"Godkin's History," published by Cassell of London:--

"The eighteenth century," says Mr. Godkin, "was the era of

persecution, in which the law did the work of the sword more

effectually and more safely. Then was established a code framed

with almost diabolical ingenuity to extinguish natural

affection--to foster perfidy and hypocrisy--to petrify

conscience--to perpetuate brutal ignorance--to facilitate the

work of tyranny--by rendering the vices of slavery inherent and

natural in the Irish character, and to make Protestantism almost

irredeemably odious as the monstrous incarnation of all moral

perversions."

Gentlemen, in that fell spirit English law addressed itself to a

dreadful purpose here in Ireland; and, mark you, that code prevailed

down to our own time; down to this very generation. "Law" called on

the son to sell his father; called on the flock to betray the pastor.

"Law" forbade us to educate--forbid us to worship God in the faith of

our fathers. "Law" made us outcasts--scourged us, trampled us,

plundered us--do you marvel that, amongst the Irish people, law has

been held in "disesteem?" Do you think this feeling arises from

"sympathy with assassination or murder?" Yet, if we had been let

alone, I doubt not that time would have fused the conquerors and the

conquered, here in Ireland, as elsewhere. Even while the millions of

the people were kept outside the constitution, the spirit of

nationality began to appear; and under its blessed influence

toleration touched the heart of the Irish-born Protestant. Yes--thank

God--thank God, for the sake of our poor country, where sectarian

bitterness has wrought such wrong--it was an Irish Protestant

Parliament that struck off the first link of the penal chain. And lo!

once more, for a bright brief day, Irish national sentiment was in

warm sympathy and heartfelt accord with the laws. "Eighty-two" came.

Irish Protestant patriotism, backed by the hearty sympathy of the

Catholic millions, raised up Ireland to a proud and glorious

position; lifted our country from the ground, where she lay prostrate

under the sword of England--but what do I say? This is "sedition." It

has this week been decreed sedition to picture Ireland thus.[C] Well,

then, they rescued her from what I will call the loving embrace of

her dear sister Britannia, and enthroned her in her rightful place, a

queen among the nations. Had the brightness of that era been

prolonged--picture it, think of it--what a country would ours be now?

Think of it! And contrast what we are with what we might be! Compare

a population filled with burning memories--disaffected, sullen,

hostile, vengeful--with a people loyal, devoted, happy, contented;

and England, too, all the happier, the more secure, the more great

and free. But sad is the story. Our independent national legislature

was torn from us by means, the iniquity of which, even among English

writers, is now proclaimed and execrated. By fraud and by force that

outrage on law, on right, and justice, was consummated. In speaking

thus I speak "sedition." No one can write the facts of Irish history,

without committing sedition. Yet every writer and speaker now will

tell you that the overthrow of our national constitution, sixty-seven

years ago, was an iniquitous and revolting scheme. But do you, then,

marvel that the laws imposed on us by the power that perpetrated that

deed are not revered, loved, and respected? Do you believe that that

want of respect arises from the "seditions" of men like my

fellow-traversers and myself? Is it wonderful to see estrangement

between a people and laws imposed on them by the over-ruling

influence of another nation? Look at the lessons--unhappy

lessons--taught our people by that London legislature where their own

will is overborne. Concessions refused and resisted as long as they

durst be withheld; and when granted at all, granted only after

passion has been aroused and the whole nation been embittered. The

Irish people sought Emancipation. Their great leader was dogged at

every step by hostile government proclamations and crown

prosecutions. Coercion act over coercion act was rained upon us; yet

O'Connell triumphed. But how and in what spirit was Emancipation

granted? Ah there never was a speech more pregnant with mischief,

with sedition, with revolutionary teaching--never words tended more

to bring law and government into contempt--than the words of the

English premier when he declared Emancipation must, sorely against

his will, be granted if England would not face a civil war. That was

a bad lesson to teach Irishmen. Worse still was taught them.

O'Connell, the great constitutional leader, a man with whom loyalty

and respect for the laws was a fundamental principle of action, led

the people towards further liberation--the liberation, not of a

creed, but a nation. What did he seek? To bring once more the laws

and the national will into accord; to reconcile the people and the

laws by restoring the constitution of queen, lords, and commons. How

was he met by the government? By the nourish of the sword; by the

drawn sabre and the shotted gun, in the market place and the highway.

"Law" finally grasped him as a conspirator, and a picked jury gave

the crown then, as now, such verdict as was required. The venerable

apostle of constitutional doctrines was consigned to prison, while a

sorrowing--aye, a maddened nation, wept for him outside. Do you

marvel that they held in "disesteem" the law and government that

acted thus? Do you marvel that to-day, in Ireland, as in every

century of all those through which I have traced this state of

things, the people and the law scowl upon each other? Gentlemen, do

not misunderstand the purport of my argument. It is not for the

purpose--it would be censurable--of merely opening the wounds of the

past that I have gone back upon history somewhat farther than the

solicitor-general found it advantageous to go. I have done it to

demonstrate that there is a truer reason than that alleged by the

crown in this case for the state of war--for unhappily that is what

it is--which prevails between the people of Ireland and the laws

under which they now live. And now apply all this to the present

case, and judge you my guilt--judge you the guilt of those whose

crime, indeed, is that they do not love and respect law and

government as they are now administered in Ireland. Gentlemen, the

present prosecution arises directly out of what is known as the

Manchester tragedy. The solicitor-general gave you his version, his

fanciful sketch of that sad affair; but it will be my duty to give

you the true facts, which differ considerably from the crown story.

The solicitor-general began with telling us about "the broad summer's

sun of the 18th September" (laughter). Gentlemen, it seems very clear

that the summer goes far into the year for those who enjoy the sweets

of office; nay, I am sure it is summer "all the year round" with the

solicitor-general while the present ministry remain in. A goodly

golden harvest he and his colleagues are making in this summer of

prosecutions; and they seem very well inclined to get up enough of

them (laughter). Well, gentlemen, I'm not complaining of that, but I

will tell you who complain loudly--the "outs," with whom it is

midwinter, while the solicitor-general and his friends are enjoying

this summer (renewed laughter). Well, gentlemen, some time last

September two prominent leaders of the Fenian movement--alleged to be

so at least--named Kelly and Deasy, were arrested in Manchester. In

Manchester there is a considerable Irish population, and amongst them

it was known those men had sympathisers. They were brought up at the

police court--and now, gentlemen, pray attentively mark this. The

Irish executive that morning telegraphed to the Manchester

authorities a strong warning of an attempted rescue. The Manchester

police had full notice--how did they treat the timely warning sent

from Dublin; a warning which, if heeded, would have averted all this

sad and terrible business which followed upon that day? Gentlemen,

the Manchester police authorities scoffed at the warning. They

derided it as a "Hirish" alarm. What! The idea of low "Hirish" hodmen

or labourers rescuing prisoners from them, the valiant and the brave!

Why, gentlemen, the Seth Bromleys of the "force" in Manchester waxed

hilarious and derisive over the idea. They would not ask even a

truncheon to put to flight even a thousand of those despised

"Hirish;" and so, despite specific warning from Dublin, the van

containing the two Fenian leaders, guarded by eleven police officers,

set out from the police office to the jail. Now, gentlemen, I charge

on the stolid vain gloriousness in the first instance, and the

contemptible pusilanimity in the second instance, of the Manchester

police--the valiant Seth Bromleys--all that followed. On the skirts

of the city the van was attacked by some eighteen Irish youths,

having three revolvers--three revolvers, gentlemen, and no

more--amongst them. The valour of the Manchester eleven vanished at

the sight of those three revolvers--some of them, it seems, loaded

with blank cartridge! The Seth Bromleys took to their heels. They

abandoned the van. Now, gentlemen, do not understand me to call those

policemen cowards. It is hard to blame an unarmed man who runs away

from a pointed revolver, which, whether loaded or unloaded, is a

powerful persuasion to--depart. But I do say that I believe in my

soul that if that had occurred here in Dublin, eleven men of our

metropolitan police whould have taken those three revolvers or

perished in the attempt (applause). Oh, if eleven Irish policemen had

run away like that from a few poor English lads with barely three

revolvers, how the press of England would yell in fierce

denunciation--why, they would trample to scorn the name of

Irishman--(applause in the court, which the officials vainly tried to

silence). [Footnote C: For publishing an illustration in the _Weekly

News_ thus picturing England's policy of coercion, Mr. Sullivan had

been found guilty of seditious libel on the previous trial.]

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald--If these interruptions continue, the parties

so offending must be removed.

Mr. Sullivan--I am sorry, my lord, for the interruption; though not

sorry the people should endorse my estimate of the police. Well,

gentlemen, the van was abandoned by its valiant guard; but there

remained inside one brave and faithful fellow, Brett by name. I am

now giving you the facts as I in my conscience and soul believe they

occurred--and as millions of my countrymen--aye, and thousands of

Englishmen, too--solemnly believe them to have occurred, though they

differ in one item widely from the crown version. Brett refused to

give up the key of the van, which he held; and the attacking party

commenced various endeavours to break it open. At length one of them

called out to fire a pistol into the lock, and thus burst it open.

The unfortunate Brett at that moment was looking through the keyhole,

endeavouring to get a view of the inexplicable scene outside, when he

received the bullet and fell dead. Gentlemen, that may be the true,

or it may be the mistaken version. You may hold to the other, or you

may hold to this. But whether I be mistaken therein, or otherwise, I

say here, as I would say if I stood now before my Eternal Judge on

the Last Day, I solemnly believe the mournful episode to have

happened thus--I solemnly believe that the man Brett was shot by

accident, and not by design. But even suppose your view differs

sincerely from mine, will you, can you, hold that I, thus

conscientiously persuaded, sympathise with murder, because I

sympathise with men hanged for that which I contend was accident, and

not murder? That is exactly the issue in this case. Well, the rescued

Fenian leaders got away; and then, when all was over--when the danger

was passed--valour tremendous returned to the fleet of foot

Manchester police. Oh, but they wreaked their vengeance that night

on the houses of the poor Irish in Manchester! By a savage razzia

they soon filled the jails with our poor countrymen seized on

suspicion. And then broke forth all over England that shout of anger

and passion which none of us will ever forget. The national pride had

been sorely wounded; the national power had been openly and

humiliatingly defied; the national fury was aroused. On all sides

resounded the hoarse shout for vengeance, swift and strong. Then was

seen a sight the most shameful of its kind that this century has

exhibited--a sight at thought of which Englishmen yet will hang their

heads for shame, and which the English historian will chronicle with

reddened check--those poor and humble Irish youths led into the

Manchester dock in chains! In chains! Yes; iron fetters festering

wrist and ankle! Oh, gentlemen, it was a fearful sight; for no one

can pretend that in the heart of powerful England there could be

danger those poor Irish youths would overcome the authorities and

capture Manchester. For what, then, were those chains put on untried

prisoners? Gentlemen, it was at this point exactly that Irish

sympathy came to the side of those prisoners. It was when we saw them

thus used, and saw that, innocent or guilty, they would be

immolated--sacrificed to glut the passion of the hour--that our

feelings rose high and strong in their behalf. Even in England there

were men--noble-hearted Englishmen, for England is never without such

men--who saw that if tried in the midst of this national frenzy,

those victims would be sacrificed; and accordingly efforts were made

for a postponement of the trial. But the roar of passion carried its

way. Not even till the ordinary assizes would the trial be postponed.

A special commission was sped to do the work while Manchester jurors

were in a white heat of panic, indignation, and fury. Then came the

trial, which was just what might be expected. Witnesses swore ahead

without compunction, and jurors believed them without hesitation.

Five men arraigned together as principals--Allen, Larkin, O'Brien,

Shore, and Maguire--were found guilty, and the judge concerning in

the verdict, were sentenced to death. Five men--not three men,

gentlemen--five men in the one verdict, not five separate verdicts.

Five men by the same evidence and the same jury in the same verdict.

Was that a just verdict? The case of the crown here to-day is that it

was--that it is "sedition" to impeach that verdict. A copy of that

conviction is handed in here as evidence to convict me of sedition

for charging as I do that that was a wrong verdict, a bad verdict, a

rotten and a false verdict. But what is the fact? That her Majesty's

ministers themselves admit and proclaim that it was a wrong verdict,

a false verdict. The very evening those men were sentenced, thirty

newspaper reporters sent up to the Home Secretary a petition

protesting that--the evidence of the witnesses and the verdict of the

jury notwithstanding--there was at least one innocent man thus marked

for execution. The government felt that the reporters were right and

the jurors wrong. They pardoned Maguire as an innocent man--that

same Maguire whose legal conviction is here put in as evidence that

he and four others were truly murderers, to sympathise with whom is

to commit sedition--nay, "to glorify the cause of murder." Well,

after that, our minds were easy. We considered it out of the question

any man would be hanged on a verdict thus ruined, blasted, and

abandoned; and believing those men innocent of murder, though guilty

of another most serious legal crime--rescue with violence, and

incidental, though not intentional loss of life--we rejoiced that a

terrible mistake was, as we thought, averted. But now arose in

redoubled fury the savage cry for blood. In vain good men, noble and

humane men, in England tried to save the national honour by breasting

this horrible outburst of passion. They were overborne. Petitioners

for mercy were mobbed and hooted in the streets. We saw all this--we

saw all this; and think you it did not sink into our hearts? Fancy if

you can our feelings when we heard that yet another man out of five

was respited--ah, he was an American, gentlemen--an American, not an

Irishman--but that the three Irishmen, Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien,

were to die--were to be put to death on a verdict and on evidence

that would not hang a dog in England! We refused to the last to

credit it; and thus incredulous, deemed it idle to make any effort to

save their lives. But it was true; it was deadly true. And then,

gentlemen, the doomed three appeared in a new character. Then they

rose into the dignity and heroism of martyrs. The manner in which

they bore themselves through the dreadful ordeal ennobled them for

ever It was then we all learned to love and revere them as patriots

and Christians. Oh, gentlemen, it is only at this point I feel my

difficulty in addressing you whose religious faith is not that which

is mine. For it is only Catholics who can understand the emotions

aroused in Catholic hearts by conduct such as theirs in that dreadful

hour. Catholics alone can understand how the last solemn declarations

of such men, after receiving the last sacraments of the Church, and

about to meet their Great Judge face to face, can outweigh the

reckless evidence of Manchester thieves and pickpockets. Yes; in that

hour they told us they were innocent, but were ready to die; and we

believed them. We believe them still. Aye, do we! They did not go to

meet their God with a falsehood on their lips. On that night before

their execution, oh, what a scene! What a picture did England present

at the foot of the Manchester scaffold! The brutal populace thronged

thither in tens of thousands. They danced; they sang; they

blasphemed; they chorused "Rule Britannia," and "God save the Queen,"

by way of taunt and defiance of the men whose death agonies they had

come to see! Their shouts and brutal cries disturbed the doomed

victims inside the prison as in their cells they prepared in prayer

and meditation to meet their Creator and their God. Twice the police

had to remove the crowd from around that wing of the prison; so that

our poor brothers might in peace go through their last preparations

for eternity, undisturbed by the yells of the multitude outside. Oh,

gentlemen, gentlemen--that scene! That scene in the grey cold

morning when those innocent men were led out to die--to die an

ignominious death before that wolfish mob! With blood on fire--with

bursting hearts--we read the dreadful story here in Ireland. We knew

that these men would never have been thus sacrificed had not their

offence been political, and had it not been that in their own way

they represented the old struggle of the Irish race. We felt that if

time had but been permitted for English passion to cool down, English

good feeling and right justice would have prevailed; and they never

would have been put to death on such a verdict. All this we felt, yet

we were silent till we heard the press that had hounded those men to

death falsely declaring that our silence was acquiescence in the deed

that consigned them to murderers' graves. Of this I have personal

knowledge, that, here in Dublin at least, nothing was done or

intended, until the _Evening Mail_ declared that popular feeling

which had had ample time to declare itself, if it felt otherwise,

quite recognised the justice of the execution. Then we resolved to

make answer. Then Ireland made answer. For what monarch, the loftiest

in the world, would such demonstrations be made, the voluntary

offerings of a people's grief! Think you it was "sympathy for murder"

called us forth, or caused the priests of the Catholic Church to

drape their churches? It is a libel to utter the base charge. No, no.

With the acts of those men at that rescue we had nought to say. Of

their innocence of murder we were convinced. Their patriotic

feelings, their religious devotion, we saw proved in the noble, the

edifying manner of their death. We believed them to have been

unjustly sacrificed in a moment of national passion; and we resolved

to rescue their memory from the foul stains of their maligners, and

make it a proud one for ever with Irishmen. Sympathy with murder,

indeed! What I am about to say will be believed; for I think I have

shown no fear of consequences in standing by my acts and

principles--I say for myself, and for the priests and people of

Ireland, who are affected by this case, that sooner would we burn our

right hands to cinders than express, directly or indirectly, sympathy

with murder; and that our sympathy for Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien is

based upon the conviction that they were innocent of any such crime.

Gentlemen, having regard to all the circumstances of this sad

business, having regard to the feelings under which we acted, think

you is it a true charge that we had for our intent and object the

bringing of the administration of justice into contempt? Does a man,

by protesting, ever so vehemently, against an act of a not infallible

tribunal, incur the charge of attempting its overthrow? What evidence

can be shown to you that we uttered a word against the general

character of the administration of justice in this country, while

denouncing this particular proceeding, which we say was a fearful

failure of justice--a horrible blunder, a terrible act of passion!

None--none. I say, for myself, I sincerely believe that in this

country of ours justice is administered by the judges of the Irish

Bench with a purity and impartiality between man and man not to be

surpassed in the universal world. Let me not be thought to cast

reflection on this court, or the learned judges before whom I now

stand, if I except in a certain sense, and on some occasions,

political trials between the subject and the crown. Apart from this,

I fearlessly say the bench of justice in Ireland fully enjoys and is

worthy of respect and homage. I care not from what political party

its members be drawn, I say that, with hardly an exception, when

robed with the ermine, they become dead to the world of politics, and

sink the politician in the loftier character of representative of

Sacred Justice. Yet, gentlemen, holding those views, I would,

nevertheless, protest against and denounce such a trial as that in

Manchester, if it had taken place here in Ireland. For, what we

contend is that the men in Manchester would never have been found

guilty on such evidence, would never have been executed on such a

verdict, if time had been given to let panic and passion pass

away--time to let English good sense and calm reason and, sense of

justice have sway. Now, gentlemen, judge ye me on this whole case;

for I have done. I have spoken at great length, but I plead not

merely my own cause but the cause of my country. For myself I care

little. I stand before you here with the manacles, I might say, on my

hands. Already a prison cell awaits me in Kilmainham. My doom, in any

event, is sealed. Already a conviction has been obtained against me

for my opinions on this same event; for it is not one arrow alone

that has been shot from the crown office quiver at me--at my

reputation, my property, my liberty. In a few hours more my voice

will be silenced; but before the world is shut out from me for a

term, I appeal to your verdict--to the verdict of my

fellow-citizens--of my fellow-countrymen--to judge my life, my

conduct, my acts, my principles and say am I a criminal. Sedition, in

a rightly ordered community, is indeed a crime. But who is it that

challenges me? Who is it that demands my loyalty? Who is it that

calls out to me, "Oh, ingrate son, where is the filial affection, the

respect, the obedience, the support, that is my due? Unnatural,

seditious, and rebellious child, a dungeon shall punish your crime!"

I look in the face of my accuser, who thus holds me to the duty of a

son. I turn to see if there I can recognise the features of that

mother, whom indeed I love, my own dear Ireland. I look into that

accusing face, and there I see a scowl, and not a smile. I miss the

soft, fond voice, the tender clasp, the loving word. I look upon the

hands reached out to grasp me--to punish me; and lo, great stains,

blood red, upon those hands; and my sad heart tells me it is the

blood of my widowed mother, Ireland. Then I answer to my

accuser--"You have no claim on me--on my love, my duty, my

allegiance. You are not my mother. You sit indeed in the place where

she should reign. You wear the regal garments torn from her limbs,

while she now sits in the dust, uncrowned and overthrown, and

bleeding, from many a wound. But my heart is with her still. Her

claim alone is recognised by me. She still commands my love, my duty,

my allegiance; and whatever the penalty may be, be it prison chains,

be it exile or death, to her I will be true" (applause). But,

gentlemen of the jury, what is that Irish nation to which my

allegiance turns? Do I thereby mean a party, or a class, or creed? Do

I mean only those who think and feel as I do on public questions? Oh,

no. It is the whole people of this land--the nobles, the peasants,

the clergy the merchants, the gentry, the traders, the

professions--the Catholic, the Protestant, the Dissenter. Yes. I am

loyal to all that a good and patriotic citizen should be loyal to; I

am ready, not merely to obey, but to support with heartfelt

allegiance, the constitution of my own country--the Queen as Queen of

Ireland, and the free parliament of Ireland once more reconstituted

in our national senate-house in College--green. And reconstituted

once more it will be. In that hour the laws will again be reconciled

with national feeling and popular reverence. In that hour there will

be no more disesteem, or hatred, or contempt for the laws: for,

howsoever a people may dislike and resent laws imposed upon them

against their will by a subjugating power, no nation disesteems the

laws of its own making. That day, that blessed day, of peace and

reconciliation, and joy, and liberty, I hope to see. And when it

comes, as come it will, in that hour it will be remembered for me

that I stood here to face the trying ordeal, ready to suffer for my

country--walking with bared feet over red hot ploughshares like the

victims of old. Yes; in that day it will be remembered for me, though

a prison awaits me now, that I was one of those journalists of the

people who, through constant sacrifice and self-immolation, fought

the battle of the people, and won every vestige of liberty remaining

in the land. (As Mr. Sullivan resumed his seat, the entire audience

burst into applause, again and again renewed, despite all efforts at

repression.)

The effect of this speech certainly was very considerable. Mr. Sullivan

spoke for upwards of two hours and forty minutes, or until nearly a

quarter past six o'clock. During the delivery of his address, twilight

had succeeded day-light; the court attendants, later still, with silent

steps and taper in hand, stole around and lit the chandeliers, whose

glare upon the thousand anxious faces below, seemed to lend a still more

impressive aspect to the scene. The painful idea of the speaker's peril,

which was all-apparent at first amongst the densely-packed audience,

seemed to fade away by degrees, giving place to a feeling of triumph, as

they listened to the historical narrative of British misrule in Ireland,

by which Irish "disesteem" for British law was explained and justified,

and later on to the story of the Manchester tragedy by which Irish

sympathy with the martyrs was completely vindicated. Again and again in

the course of the speech, they burst into applause, regardless of

threatened penalties; and at the close gave vent to their feelings in a

manner that for a time defied all repression.

When silence was restored, the court was formally adjourned to next day,

Friday, at 10 o'clock, a.m.

The morning came, and with it another throng; for it was known Mr.

Martin would now speak in his turn. In order, however, that his speech,

which was sure to be an important one, might close the case against the

crown, Mr. Bracken, on the court resuming, put in _his_ defence very

effectively as follows:--

My lords--I would say a word or two, but after Mr. Sullivan's grand

and noble speech of last evening, I think it now needless on my part.

I went to the procession of the 8th December, assured that it was

right from reading a speech of the Earl of Derby in the newspapers.

There was a sitting of the Privy Council in Dublin on the day before,

and I sat in my shop that night till twelve o'clock, to see if the

procession would be forbidden by government. They, however, permitted

it to take place, and I attended it fully believing I was right. That

is all I have to say.

This short speech--delivered in a clear musical and manly voice--put the

whole case against the crown in a nut-shell. The appearance of the

speaker too--a fine, handsome, robust, and well-built man, in the prime

of life, with the unmistakable stamp of honest sincerity on his

countenance and in his eye--gave his words greater effect with the

audience; and it was very audibly murmured on all sides that he had

given the government a home thrust in his brief but telling speech.

Then Mr. Martin rose. After leaving court the previous evening he had

decided to commit to writing what he intended to say; and he now read

from manuscript his address to the jury. The speech, however, lost

nothing in effect by this; for any auditor out of view would have

believed it to have been spoken, as he usually speaks, _extempore_, so

admirably was it delivered. Mr. Martin said:--

My lords and gentlemen of the jury--I am going to trouble this court

with some reply to the charge made against me in this indictment.

But I am sorry that I must begin by protesting that I do not consider

myself as being now put upon my country to be tried as the

constitution directs--as the spirit of the constitution

requires--and, therefore, I do not address you for my legal defence,

but for my vindication before the tribunal of conscience--a far more

awful tribunal, to my mind, than this. Gentlemen, I regard you as

twelve of my fellow-countrymen, known or believed by my prosecutors

to be my political opponents, and selected for that reason for the

purpose of obtaining a conviction against me in form of law.

Gentlemen, I have not the smallest purpose of casting an imputation

against your honesty or the honesty of my prosecutors who have

selected you. This is a political trial, and in this country

political trials are always conducted in this way. It is considered

by the crown prosecutors to be their duty to exclude from the

jury-box every juror known, or suspected, to hold or agree with the

accused in political sentiment. Now, gentlemen, I have not the least

objection to see men of the most opposite political sentiments to

mine placed in the jury-box to try me, provided they be placed there

as the constitution commands--provided they are twelve of my

neighbours indifferently chosen. As a loyal citizen I am willing and

desirous to be put upon my county, and fairly tried before any twelve

of my countrymen, no matter what may happen to be the political

sentiments of any of them. But I am sorry and indignant that this is

not such a trial. This system by which over and over again loyal

subjects of the Queen in Ireland are condemned in form of law for

seeking, by such means as the constitution warrants, to restore her

Majesty's kingdom of Ireland to the enjoyment of its national

rights--this system, of selecting anti-Repealers and excluding

Repealers from the jury box, when a Repealer like me is to be tried,

is calculated to bring the administration of justice into disesteem,

disrepute, and hatred. I here protest against it. My lords and

gentlemen of the jury, before I offer any reply to the charges in

this indictment, and the further development of those charges made

yesterday by the learned gentleman whose official duty it was to

argue the government's case against me, I wish to apologise to the

court for declining to avail myself of the professional assistance of

the bar upon this occasion. It is not through any want of respect for

the noble profession of the bar that I decline that assistance. I

regard the duties of a lawyer as among the most respectable that a

citizen can undertake. His education has taught him to investigate

the origin, and to understand principles of law, and the true nature

of loyalty. He has had to consider how the interests of individual

citizens may harmonise with the interests of the community, how

justice and liberty may be united, how the state may have both order

and contentment. The application of the knowledge which he has

gained--viz., the study of law to the daily facts of human

society--sharpens and strengthens all his faculties, clears his

judgment, helps him to distinguish true from false, and right from

wrong. It is no wonder, gentlemen, that an accomplished and virtuous

lawyer holds a high place in the aristocracy of merit in every free

country. Like all things human, the legal profession has its dark as

well as its bright side, has in it germs of decay and rotten foulness

as well as of health and beauty; but yet it is a noble profession,

and one which I admire and respect. But, above all, I would desire to

respect the bar of my own country, and the Irish bar--the bar made

illustrious by such memories as those of Grattan and Flood, and the

Emmets, and Curran, and Plunket, and Saurin, and Holmes, and Sheil,

and O'Connell. I may add, too, of Burke and of Sheridan, for they

were Irish in all that made them great. The bar of Ireland wants this

day only the ennobling inspirations of national freedom to raise it

to a level with the world. Under the Union very few lawyers have been

produced whose names can rank in history with any of the great names

I have mentioned. But still, even the present times of decay, and

when the Union is preparing to carry away our superior courts, and

the remains of our bar to Westminster, and to turn that beautiful

building upon the quay into a barrack like the Linen Hall, or an

English tax-gatherer's office like the Custom House, there are many

learned, accomplished, and respectable lawyers at the Irish bar, and

far be it from me to doubt but that any Irish lawyer who might

undertake my defence would loyally exert himself as the lofty idea of

professional honour commands to save me from a conviction. But to

this attack upon my character as a good citizen and upon my liberty,

my lords and gentlemen, the only defence I could permit to be offered

would be a full justification of my political conduct, morally,

constitutionally, legally--a complete vindication of my acts and

words alleged to be seditious and disloyal, and to retort against my

accusers the charge of sedition and disloyalty. Not, indeed, that I

would desire to prosecute these gentlemen upon that charge, if I

could count upon convicting them and send them to the dungeon instead

of myself. I don't desire to silence them, or to hurt a hair of their

wigs because their political opinions differed from mine. Gentlemen,

this prosecution against me, like the prosecutions just accomplished

against two national newspapers, is part of a scheme of the ministers

of the crown for suppressing all voice of protest against the Union,

for suppressing all public complaint against the deadly results of

the Union, and all advocacy by act, speech, or writing for Repeal of

the Union. Now I am a Repealer so long as I have been a politician at

all--that is for at least twenty-four years past. Until the national

self-government of my country be first restored, there appears to me

to be no place, no _locus standi_ (as lawyers say), for any other

Irish political question, and I consider it to be my duty as a

patriotic and loyal citizen, to endeavour by all honourable and

prudent means to procure the Repeal of the Act of the Union, and the

restoration of the independent Irish government, of which my country

was (as I have said in my prosecuted speech), "by fraud and force,"

and against the will of the vast majority of its people of every

race, creed, and class, though under false form of law, deprived

sixty-seven years ago. Certainly, I do not dispute the right of you,

gentlemen, or of any man in this court, or in all Ireland, to

approve of the Union, to praise it, if you think right, as being wise

and beneficent, and to advocate its continuance openly by act,

speech, and writing. But I naturally think that my convictions in

this matter of the Union ought to be shared by you also, gentlemen,

and by the learned judges, and the lawyers, both crown lawyers and

all others, and by the policemen and soldiers, and all faithful

subjects of her Majesty in Ireland. Now, gentlemen, such being my

convictions, were I to entrust my defence in this court to a lawyer,

he must speak as a Repealer, not only for me, but for himself, not

only as a professional advocate, but as a man, and from the heart. I

cannot doubt but that there are very many Irish lawyers who privately

share my convictions about Repeal. Believing as I do in my heart and

conscience, and with all the force of the mind that God has given me,

that Repeal is the right and the only right policy for Ireland--for

healing all the wounds of our community, all our sectarian feuds, all

our national shame, suffering, and peril--for making our country

peaceful, industrious, prosperous, respectable, and happy--I cannot

doubt but that in the enlightened profession of the bar there must be

very many Irishmen who, like me, consider Repeal to be right, and

best, and necessary for the public good. But, gentlemen, ever since

the Union, by fraud and force and against the will of the Irish

people, was enacted--ever since that act of usurpation by the English

parliament of the sovereign rights of the queen, lords, and commons

of Ireland--ever since this country was thereby rendered the subject

instead of the sister of England--ever since the Union, but

especially for about twenty years past, it has been the policy of

those who got possession of the sovereign rights of the Irish crown

to appoint to all places of public trust, emolument, or honour in

Ireland only such as would submit, whether by parole or by tacit

understanding, to suppress all public utterance of their desire for

the Repeal of the Union such as has been the persistent policy

towards this country of those who command all the patronage of Irish

offices, paid and unpaid--the policy of all English ministers,

whether Whig or Tory, combined with the disposal of the public

forces--such a policy is naturally very effective in not really

reconciling, but in keeping Ireland quietly subject to the Union. It

is a hard trial of men's patriotism to be debarred from all career of

profitable and honourable distinction in the public service of their

own country. I do not wonder that few Irish lawyers, in presence of

the mighty power of England, dare to sacrifice personal ambition and

interest to what may seem a vain protest against accomplished facts.

I do not wish to attack or offend them--as this court expresses it,

to impute improper motives to them--by thus simply stating the sad

facts which are relevant to my own case in this prosecution, and

explaining that I decline professional assistance, because few

lawyers would be so rash as to adopt my political convictions, and

vindicate my political conduct as their own, and because if any

lawyer were so bold as to offer me his aid on my own terms, I am too

generous to permit him to ruin his professional career for my sake.

Such are the reasons, gentlemen of the jury and my lords, why I am

now going through this trial, not _secundum artum_, but like an

eccentric patient who won't be treated by the doctors but will quack

himself. Perhaps I would be safer if I did not say a word about the

legal character of the charge made against me in this indictment.

There are legal matters as dangerous to handle as any drugs in the

pharmacopoeia. Yet I shall trouble you for a short time longer, while

I endeavour to show that I have not acted in a way unbecoming a good

citizen. The charge against me in this indictment is that I took part

in an illegal procession by the provisions of the statute entitled in

the Party Processions' Act. His lordship enumerated seven conditions,

the violation of some one of which is necessary to render an assembly

illegal at common law. Those seven conditions are--1. That the

persons forming the assembly met to carry out an unlawful purpose. 2.

That the numbers in which the persons met endangered the public

peace. 3. That the assembly caused alarm to the peaceful subjects of

the Queen. 4. That the assembly created disaffection. 5. That the

assembly incited her Majesty's Irish subjects to hate her Majesty's

English subjects--his lordship did not say anything of the case of an

assembly inciting the Queen's English subjects to hate the Queen's

Irish subjects, but no such case is likely to be tried here. 6. That

the assembly intended to asperse the right and constitutional

administration of justice; and 7. That the assembly intended to

impair the functions of justice and to bring the administration of

justice into disrepute. I say that the procession of the 8th December

did not violate any one of these conditions--1. In the first place

the persons forming that procession did not meet to carry out any

unlawful purpose--their purpose was peaceably to express their

opinion upon a public act of the public servants of the crown. 2. In

the second place the numbers in which those persons met did not

endanger the public peace. None of those persons carried arms.

Thousands of those persons were women and children. There was no

injury or offence attempted to be committed against anybody, and no

disturbance of the peace took place. 3. In the third place the

assembly caused no alarm to the peaceable subjects of the

Queen--there is not a tittle of evidence to that effect. 4. In the

fourth place the assembly did not create disaffection, neither was it

intended or calculated to create disaffection. On the contrary, the

assembly served to give peaceful expression to the opinion

entertained by vast numbers of her Majesty's peaceful subjects upon a

public act of the servants of the crown, an act which vast numbers of

the Queen's subjects regretted and condemned. And thus the assembly

was calculated to prevent or remove disaffection, and such open and

peaceful manifestations of the real opinions of the Queen's subjects

upon public affairs is the proper, safe, and constitutional way in

which they may aid to prevent disaffection. 5. In the fifth place the

assembly did not incite the Irish subjects of the Queen to hate her

Majesty's subjects. On the contrary, it was a proper constitutional

way of bringing about a right understanding upon a transaction which,

if not fairly and fully explained and set right, must produce hatred

between the two peoples. That transaction was calculated to produce

hatred. But those who protest peaceably against such a transaction

are not the party to be blamed, but those responsible for the

transaction. 6. In the sixth place the assembly had no purpose of

aspersing the right and constitutional administration of justice. Its

tendency was peaceably to point out faults in the conduct of the

servants of the crown, charged with the administration of justice,

which faults were calculated to bring the administration of justice

into disrepute. 7. Nor, in the seventh place, did the assembly impair

the functions of justice, or intend or tend to do so. Even my

prosecutors do not allege that judicial tribunals are infallible. It

would be too absurd to make such an allegation in plain words. It is

admitted on all hands that judges have sometimes given wrong

directions, that juries have given wrong verdicts, that courts of

justice have wrongfully appreciated the whole matter for trial. When

millions of the Queen's subjects think that such wrong has been done,

is it sedition for them to say so peaceably and publicly? On the

contrary, the constitutional way for good citizens to act in striving

to keep the administration of justice pure and above suspicion of

unfairness, is by such open and peaceable protests. Thus, and thus

only, may the functions of justice be saved from being impaired. In

this case wrong had been done. Five men had been tried together upon

the same evidence, and convicted together upon that evidence, and

while one of the five was acknowledged by the crown to be innocent,

and the whole conviction was thus acknowledged to be wrong and

invalid, three of the five men were hanged upon that conviction. My

friend, Mr. Sullivan, in his eloquent and unanswerable speech of

yesterday, has so clearly demonstrated the facts of that unhappy and

disgraceful affair of Manchester, that I shall merely say of it that

I adopt every word he spoke upon the subject for mine, and to justify

the sentiment and purpose with which I engaged in the procession of

the 8th December. I say the persons responsible for that transanction

are fairly liable to the charge of acting so as to bring the

administration of justice into contempt, unless, gentlemen, you hold

those persons to be infallible and hold that thay can do no wrong.

But, gentlemen, the constitution does not say that the servants of

the crown can do no wrong. According to the constitution the

sovereign can do no wrong, but her servants may. In this case they

have done wrong. And, gentlemen, you cannot right that wrong, nor

save the administration of justice from the disreputation into which

such proceedings are calculated to bring it, by giving a verdict to

put my comrades and myself into jail for saying openly and peaceably

that we believe the administration of justice in that unhappy affair

did do wrong. But further, gentlemen, let us suppose that you twelve

jurors, as well as the servants of the crown who are prosecuting me,

and the two judges, consider me to be mistaken in my opinion upon

that judicial proceeding, yet you have no right under the

constitution to convict me of a misdemeanour for openly and peaceably

expressing my opinion. You have no such right; and as to the wisdom

of treating my differences of opinion and the peaceable expression of

it as a penal offence--and the wisdom of a political act ought to be

a serious question with all good and loyal citizens--consider that

the opinion you are invited by the crown prosecutors to pronounce to

be a penal offence is not mine alone, nor that of the five men herein

indicted, but is the opinion of all the 30,000 persons estimated by

the crown evidence to have taken part in the assembly of the 8th of

December; is the opinion besides of the 90,000 or 100,000 others who,

standing in the streets of this city, or at the open windows

overlooking the streets traversed by the procession that day,

manifested their sympathy with the objects of the procession; is the

opinion, as you are morally certain, of some millions of your Irish

fellow-subjects. By indicting me for the expression of that opinion

the public prosecutors virtually indict some millions of the Queen's

peaceable Irish subjects. It is only the convenience of this

court--which could not hold the millions in one batch of traversers,

and which would require daily sittings for several successive years

to go through the proper formalities for duly trying all those

millions; it is only the convenience of this court that can be

pretended to relieve the crown prosecutors from the duty of trying

and convicting all those millions if it is their duty to try and

convict me. The right principles of law do not allow the servants of

the crown to evade or neglect their duty of bringing to justice all

offenders against the law. I suppose these gentlemen may allege that

it is at their discretion what offenders against the law they will

prosecute. I deny that the principles of the law allow them, or allow

the Queen such discretion. The Queen, at her coronation services,

swears to do justice to all her subjects according to the law. The

Queen, certainly, has the right by the constitution to pardon any

offenders against the law. She has the prerogative of mercy. But

there can be no pardon, no mercy, till after an offence be proved in

due course of law by accusation of the alleged offenders before the

proper tribunals, followed by the plea of guilty or the jurors'

verdict of guilty. And to select one man or six men for trial,

condemnation, and punishment, out of, say, four millions who have

really participated in the same alleged wicked, malicious, seditious,

evil-disposed, and unlawful proceeding, is unfair to the six men, and

unfair to the other 3,999,994 men--is a dereliction of duty on the

part of the officers of the law, and is calculated to bring the

administration of justice into disrepute. Equal justice is what the

constitution demands. Under military authority an army may be

decimated, and a few men may properly be punished, while the rest are

left unpunished. But under a free constitution it is not so. Whoever

breaks the law must be made amenable to punishment, or equal justice

is not rendered to the subjects of the Queen. Is it not pertinent,

therefore, gentlemen, for me to say to you this is an unwise

proceeding which my prosecutors bid you to sanction by a verdict? I

have heard it asked by a lawyer addressing this court as a question

that must be answered in the negative--can you indict a whole nation?

If such a proceeding as this prosecution against the peaceable

procession of the 8th December receives the sanction of your verdict,

that question must be answered in the affirmative. It will need only

a crown prosecutor, an attorney-general, and a solicitor-general, two

judges, and twelve jurors, all of the one mind, while all the other

subjects of the Queen in Ireland are of a different mind, and the

five millions and a half of the Queen's subjects of Ireland outside

that circle of seventeen of her Majesty's subjects, may be indicted,

convicted, and consigned to penal imprisonment in due form of law--a

law as understood in political trials in Ireland. Gentlemen, I have

thus far endeavoured to argue from the common sense of mankind, with

which the principles of law must be in accord, that the peaceable

procession of the 8th of December--that peaceable demonstration of

the sentiment of millions of the Queen's subjects in Ireland--did not

violate any of the seven conditions of the learned judge to the grand

jury in defining what constitutes an illegal assembly at common law;

and I have also argued that the prosecution is unwise, and calculated

to excite discontent. Gentlemen, I shall now endeavour to show you

that the procession of the 8th of December did not violate the

statute entitled the Party Processions' Act. The learned judge in his

charge told the grand jury that under this act all processions are

illegal which carry weapons of offence, or which carry symbols

calculated to promote the animosity of some other class of her

Majesty's subjects. Applying the law to this case, his lordship

remarked that the processions of the 8th of December had something of

military array--that is, they went in regular order with a regular

step. But, gentlemen, there were no arms in that procession, there

were no symbols in that procession intended or calculated to provoke

animosity in any other class of the Queen's subjects, or in any human

creature. There were neither symbol, nor deed, or word intended to

provoke animosity, and as to the military array--is it not absurd to

attribute a warlike character to an unarmed and perfectly peaceful

assemblage, in which there were some thousands of women and children?

No offence was given or offered any human being. The authorities were

so assured of the peacefulness and inoffensiveness of the assemblage

that the police were withdrawn in a great measure from their ordinary

duties of preventing disorders. And as to the remark that the people

walked with a regular step, I need only say that was done for the

sake of order and decorum. It would be merely to doubt whether you

are men of common sense if I argued any further to satisfy you that

the procession did not violate the Party Processions' Act, such as it

is defined by the learned judge. The speech delivered on that

occasion is an important element in forming a judgment upon the

character and object of the procession. The speech declared the

procession to be a peaceable expression of the opinion of those who

composed it upon an important public transaction, an expression of

sorrow and indignation at an act of the ministers of the government.

It was a protest against that act--a protest which those who

disapproved of it were entitled by the constitution to make, and

which they made, peaceably and legitimately. Has not every individual

of the millions of the Queen's subjects the right to say so say

openly whether he approves or disapproves of any public act of the

Queen's ministers? Has not all the Queen's subjects the right to say

altogether if they can without disturbance of the Queen's peace? The

procession enabled many thousands to do that without the least

inconvenience or danger to themselves, and with no injury or offence

to their neighbours. To prohibit or punish peaceful, inoffensive,

orderly, and perfectly innocent processions upon pretence that they

are constructively unlawful, is unconstitutional tyranny. Was it done

because the ministers discovered that the terror of suspended habeas

corpus had not in this matter stifled public opinion? Of course, if

anything be prohibited by government, the people obey--of course I

obey. I would not have held the procession had I not understood that

it was permitted. But understanding that it was permitted, and so

believing that it might serve the people for a safe and useful

expression of their sentiment, I held the procession. I did not hold

the procession because I believed it to be illegal, but because I

believed it to be legal and understood it to be permitted. In this

country it is not law that must rule a loyal citizen's conduct, but

the caprice of the English ministers. For myself, I acknowledge that

I submit to such a system of government unwillingly, and with

constant hope for the restoration of the reign of law, but I do

submit. Why at first did the ministers of the crown permit an

expression of censure upon that judicial proceeding at Manchester by

a procession--why did they not warn her Majesty's subjects against

the danger of breaking the law? Was it not because they thought that

the terrors of the suspended habeas corpus would be enough to prevent

the people from coming openly forward at all to express their real

sentiments? Was it because they found that so vehement and so general

was the feeling of indignation at that unhappy transaction at

Manchester that they did venture to come openly forward--with perfect

peacefulness and most careful observance of the peace to express

their real sentiments--that the ministry proclaimed down the

procession, and now prosecute us in order to stifle public opinion?

Gentlemen of the jury, I have said enough to convince any twelve

reasonable men that there was nothing in my conduct in the matter of

that procession which you can declare on your oaths to be "malicious,

seditious, ill-disposed, and intended to disturb the peace and

tranquility of the realm." I shall trouble you no further, except by

asking you to listen to the summing up of this indictment, and, while

you listen to judge between me and the attorney-general. I shall read

you my words and his comment. Judge of us, Irish jurors, which of us

two are guilty:--"Let us, therefore, conclude this proceeding by

joining heartily, with hats off, in the prayer of those three men,

'God save Ireland.'" "Thereby," says the attorney-general in his

indictment, "meaning, and intending to excite hatred, dislike, and

animosity against her Majesty and the government, and bring into

contempt the administration of justice and the laws of this realm,

and cause strife and hatred between her Majesty's subjects in Ireland

and in England, and to excite discontent and disaffection against her

Majesty's government." Gentlemen, I have now done.

Mr. Martin sat down amidst loud and prolonged applause.

This splendid argument, close, searching, irresistible, gave the _coup

de grace_ to the crown case. The prisoners having called no evidence,

according to honourable custom having almost the force of law, the

prosecution was disentitled to any rejoinder. Nevertheless, the crown

put up its ablest speaker--a man far surpassing in attainments as a

lawyer and an orator both the Attorney and Solicitor-General--Mr. Ball,

Q.C., to press against the accused that technical right which honourable

usage reprehended as unfair! No doubt the crown authorities felt it was

not a moment in which they could afford to be squeamish or scrupulous.

The speeches of Mr. Sullivan and Mr. Martin had had a visible effect

upon the jury--had, in fact, made shreds of the crown case; and so Mr.

Ball was put up as the last hope of averting the "disaster" of a

failure. He spoke with his accustomed ability and dignity, and made a

powerful appeal in behalf of the crown. Then Mr. Justice Fitzgerald

proceeded to charge the jury, which he did in his own peculiarly calm,

precise, and perspicuous style. At the outset, referring to the protest

of the accused against the conduct of the crown in the jury challenges,

he administered a keen rebuke to the government officials. It was, he

said, no doubt the strict legal _right_ of the crown to act as it had

done; yet, considering that this was a case in which the accused was

accorded no corresponding privilege, the exercise of that right in such

a manner by the crown certainly was, in his, Mr. Justice Fitzgerald's

estimation, _a subject for grave objection_.

Here there was what the newspaper reporters call "sensation in court."

What! Had it come to this, that one of the chief institutions of the

land--a very pillar of the crown and government--namely, _jury-packing_,

was to be reflected upon from the bench itself. Monstrous!

The charge, though mild in language, was pretty sharp on the

"criminality" of such conduct as was _imputed_ to the accused, yet

certainly left some margin to the jury for the exercise of their opinion

upon "the law and the facts."

At two o'clock in the afternoon the jury retired to consider their

verdict, and as the judges at the same moment withdrew to their chamber,

the pent-up feelings of the crowded audience instantly found vent in

loud Babel-like expressions and interchange of comments on the charge,

and conjectures as to the result. "Waiting for the verdict" is a scene

that has often been described and painted. Everyone of course concluded

that half-an-hour would in any case elapse before the anxiously watched

jury-room door would open; but when the clock hands neared three,

suspense intense and painful became more and more visible in every

countenance. It seemed to be only now that men fully realized all that

was at stake, all that was in peril, on this trial! _A conviction in

this case rendered the national colour of Ireland for ever more an

illegal and forbidden emblem_! A conviction in this case would degrade

the symbol of nationality into a badge of faction! To every fevered

anxious mind at this moment rose the troubled memories of gloomy

times--the "dark and evil days" chronicled in that popular ballad, the

music and words of which now seemed to haunt the watchers in the

court:--

"Oh, Patrick, dear, and did you hear

The news that's going round?

The shamrock is by law forbid.

To grow on Irish ground.

No more St. Patrick's day we'll keep--

His colour can't be seen,

For there's a bloody law again

The Wearing of the Green."

But hark! There is a noise at the jury-room door! It opens--the jury

enter the box. A murmur, swelling to almost a roar, from the crowded

audience, is instantly followed by a deathlike stillness. The judges are

called; but by this time it is noticed that the foreman has not the

"issue-paper" ready to hand down; and a buzz goes round--"a question; a

question!" It is even so. The foreman asks:--

Whether, if they believed the speech of Mr. Martin to be in itself

seditious, should they come to the conclusion that the assemblage was

seditious?

Mr. Justice Fitzgerald answers _in the negative_, and a thrill goes

through the audience. Nor is this all. One of the jurors declares there

is no chance whatever of their agreeing to a verdict! Almost a cheer

breaks out. The judge, however, declares they must retire again; which

the jury do, very reluctantly and doggedly; in a word, very unlike men

likely to "persuade one another."

When the judges again leave the bench for their chamber, the crowd in

court give way outright to joy. Every face is bright; every heart is

light; jokes go round, and there is great "chaff" of the crown

officials, and of the "polis," who, poor fellows, to tell the truth,

seem to be as glad as the gladdest in the throng. Five o'clock

arrives--half-past five--the jury must suavely be out soon now. At a

quarter to six they come; and for an instant the joke is hushed, and

cheeks suddenly grow pale with fear lest by any chance it might be evil

news. But the faces of the jurymen tell plainly "no verdict." The judges

again are seated. The usual questions in such cases: the usual answers.

"No hope whatever of an agreement." Then after a reference to the

Solicitor-General, who, in sepulchral tone, "supposes" there is "nothing

for it" but to discharge the jury, his lordship declares the jury

discharged.

Like a volley there burst a wild cheer, a shout, that shook the

building! Again and again it was renewed; and, being caught up by the

crowd outside, sent the tidings of victory with electrical rapidity

through the city. Then there was a rush at Mr. Martin and Mr. Sullivan.

The former especially was clasped, embraced, and borne about by the

surging throng, wild with joy. It was with considerable difficulty any

of the traversers could get away, so demonstrative was the multitude in

the streets. Throughout the city the event was hailed with rejoicing,

and the names of the jurymen, "good and bad" were vowed to perpetual

benediction. For once, at least, justice had triumphed; or rather,

injustice had been baulked. For once, at least, the people had won the

day; and the British Government had received a signal overthrow in its

endeavour to proscribe--

"THE WEARING OF THE GREEN."

* * * * *

For one of the actors in the above-described memorable scene, the

victory purchased but a few hours safety. Next morning Mr. A.M. Sullivan

was placed again at the bar to hear his sentence--that following upon

the first of the prosecutions hurled against him (the _press_

prosecution), on which he had been found guilty. Again the court was

crowded--this time with anxious faces, devoid of hope. It was a brief

scene. Mr. Justice Fitzgerald announced the sentence--six months in

Richmond Prison; and amidst a farewell demonstration that compelled the

business of the court to be temporarily suspended, the officials led

away in custody the only one of the prosecuted processionists who

expiated by punishment his sympathy with the fate of the Martyred Three

of Manchester.