writhing in prison cells; and proud hearts beating in ignomin ious exile. And now with the groans of the dying, there went up from our fatal land the shrieks of despairing mothers, and the weeping of young wives left desolate by lonely hearths, and the bewildered cries of orphaned children when they heard they had no father.

XXXV.--THE SAME-CONTINUED.

DUBLIN NATION.

side.

WHAT then? Is there no hope? Will ye drag on a wretched existence, degraded in the eyes of Europe-making Ireland a by-word amongst the nations? Will ye suffer these things, that so your children may rise up in after years and say,Was it thus, and thus, when ye were young men, and ye never lifted your arms to prevent it? Did ye sell not only the lives of your brothers, but also the honor of your country? Have ye left nothing but a heritage of shaine?) No! God has not utterly forsaken us. path, but one. There is no other. You must march on it, or the ruin of your country, the death of the living, and the vengeance of the unavenged dead will be on your souls. But here solemnly we acquit the English people of all participation in forcing on us this dreadful alternative-slavery or war. Not the brave, generous, English people, but the tyrant, imbecile ministry are guilty of thus recklessly plunging their own nation and ours into the murderous collision.

He has left us one

One way is indeed yet left, one noble way, and a hallelujah of praise might rise to heaven in place of the clash of arms and the groans of the dying. Let the Queen come with all the proud prerogatives of royalty. Let her unbar the prison-gates, restore the exiles to their homes, restore their rights to a nation. A woman can yet save thousands from destruction. If she will not; then amongst the miserable in the kingdom, there will be one more miserable than all. That Queen upon her throne—a crowned Medea-with the diamonds on her brow, but the blood of her people, her children, on her soul. Oh let thy heart speak, young Queen, there is yet time; hesitate-and the page of history that

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261

notes thy reign will be scarcely ligible to posterity, for the
blood of thy subjects will have stained it.

Rise, then, men of Ireland, since Providence so wills it.
Rise in your cities and in your fields, on your green hills, in A ́
your valleys, by your dark mountain passes, by your rivers
and lakes, and ocean-washed shores.
Rise as a nation.

England has dissevered the bond of allegiance. Rise, not
now to demand justice from a foreign kingdom, but to make
Ireland an independent kingdom forever. It is no light task.
God has appointed you. (It is a work of trial and temptation.
Oh! be steadfast in the trial-be firm to resist the temptation.{.
You have to combat injustice, therefore you must yourselves
be just. You have to overthrow a despot power, but you d
must establish order, not suffer anarchy. Remember, it is
not against individuals, or parties, or sects, you wage war, but
against a system; overthrow-have no mercy on that system.
Down with it; down with it, even to the ground; but show
mercy to the individuals who are but the instruments of that
system. You look round upon a land-your own land-trod
den down, and trampled, and insulted, and on a persecuted,
despairing people. It is your right arm must raise up the
trampled land-must make her again beautiful, and stately,
and rich in blessings. Elevate that despairing people, and
make them free and happy; but teach them to be majestic
in their force, generous in their clemency, noble in their
triumph. It is a holy mission. Holy must be your motives
and your acts, if you would fulfil it. Act as if your soul's
salvation hung on each deed, and it will, for we stand already
in the shadow of eternity. For us is the combat, but not for
us, perhaps, the triumph. Many a noble heart will lie cold
many a throbbing pulse will be stilled, ere the cry of victory
will arise! It is a solemn thought, that now is the hour of
destiny, when the fetters of seven centuries may at last be
broken, and by you, men of this generation; by you, men of
Ireland! You are God's instruments; many of you must be
freedom's martyrs. Oh! be worthy of the name; and as
you act as men, as patriots, and as Christians, so will the
blessing rest upon your life here, when you lay it down a
sacrifice for Ireland upon the red battle-field,

XXXVI-VINDICATION FROM TREASON.

M'MANUS.

My lords, I trust I am enough of a Christian, and enough of a man, to understand the awful responsibility of the question that has been put to me. My lords, standing on this my native soil-standing in an Irish court of justice, and before the Irish nation, I have much to say why sentence of death, or the sentence of the law should not be passed upon me. But, my lords, on entering this court, I placed my life -and what is of much more importance to me, my honor-in the hands of two advocates; and, my lords, if I had ten thousand lives, and ten thousand honors, I would be content to place them under the watchful and glorious genius of the one, and the high legal ability of the other, my lords, I am content. In that regard I have nothing to say. But I have a word to say, which no advocate, however anxious, can utter for me. I have this to say, my lords that whatever part I may have taken through any struggle for my country's independence-whatever part I may have acted in that short career, I stand before your lordships now with a free heart, and with a light conscience, ready to abide the issue of your sentence. And now, my lords, perhaps this is the fittest time that I may put one sentiment on record, and it is this:Standing, as I do, between this dock and the scaffold, it may be now, or to-morrow, or it may be never; but whatever the result may be, I have this sentiment to put on record —that in any part I have taken, I have not been actuated by animosity to Englishmen ; for I have spent some of the happiest and most prosperous days of my life there, and in no part of my career have I been actuated by enmity to Englishmen, however much I may have felt the injustice of English rule in this land. My lords, I have nothing more to say. It is not for having loved England less, but for having loved Ireland more, that I stand now before you.

XXXVII.-VINDICATION FROM TREASON

MEAGHER.

It is my intention to say a few words only. I desire that the last act of a proceeding which has occupied so much of

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263

the public time should be of short duration. Nor have I the indelicate wish to close the dreary ceremony of a State prosecution with a vain display of words. Did I fear that hereafter, when I shall be no more, the country I have tried to serve would think ill of me, I might indeed avail myself of this solemn moment to vindicate my sentiments and my conduct. But I have no such fear. The country will judge of those sentiments and that conduct, in a light far different from that in which the jury by which I have been convicted will view them; and by the country, the sentence which you, my lords, are about to pronounce, will be remembered only as the severe and solemn attestation of my rectitude and truth. Whatever be the language in which that sentence be spoken, I know that my fate will meet with sympathy, and that my memory will be honored. In speaking thus, accuse me not, my lords, of an indecorous presumption. To the efforts I have made in a just and noble cause, I ascribe no vain importance-nor do I claim for those efforts any high reward. But it so happens, and it will ever happen so, that those who have tried to serve their country, no matter how weak the effort may have been, are sure to receive the thanks and blessings of its people. With my country, then, I leave my memory-my sentiments-my acts—proudly feeling that they require no vindication from me this day. A jury of my countrymen, it is true, have found me guilty of the crime for which I stood indicted. For this I entertain not the slightest feeling of resentment towards them. Influenced as they must have been by the charge of the Lord Chief Justice, they could have found no other verdict. What of that charge? Any strong observations on it, I feel sincerely would ill befit the solemnity of this scene; but I would earnestly beseech of you, my lord-you who preside on that bench-when the passions and prejudices of this hour have passed away, to appeal to your own conscience, and to ask of it, was your charge, as it ought to have been, impartial and indifferent between the subject and the crown? My lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in me, and, perhaps, it may seal my fate. But I am here to speak the truth, whatever it may cost; I am here to regret nothing I have ever done ;-to retract nothing I have ever said. I am here to crave, with no lying lip, the life I consecrate to the liberty of my country. Far from it, even here—here, where the thief, the libertine, the murderer, have left their foot

prints in the dust; here, on this spot, where the shadows of death surround me, and from which I see my early grave in an unanointed soil opened to receive me-even here, encircled by these terrors, the hope which has beckoned me to the perilous sea upon which I have been wrecked, still consoles, animates, enraptures me.

No, I do not despair of my poor old country-her peace, her liberty, her glory. For that country I can do no more than bid her hope. To lift this island up-to make her a benefactor to humanity, instead of being the meanest beggar in the world, to restore to her her native powers and her ancient constitution, this has been my ambition, and this ambition has been my crime. Judged by the law of England, I know this crime entails the penalty of death; but the history of Ireland explains this crime, and justifies it. Judged by that history, I am no criminal, I deserve no punishment. Judged by that history, the treason of which I stand convicted, loses all its guilt, is sanctioned as a duty, will be ennobled as a sacrifice. With these sentiments, my lord, I await the sentence of the Court. Having done what I felt to be my duty--having spoken what I felt to be the truth, as I have done on every other occasion of my short career, I now bid farewell to the country of my birth, my passion, and my death-the country whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies-whose factions I have sought to still-whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim-whose freedom has been my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a proof of the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought and spoke and struggled for her freedom-the life of a young heart, and with that life all the hopes, the honors, the endearments of a happy and an honored home. Pronounce, then, my lords, the sentence which the laws direct, and I will be prepared to hear it. I trust I shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope to be able, with a pure heart and perfect composure, to appear before a higher tribunal—a tribunal where a judge of infinite goodness as well as of justice will preside, and where, my lords, many, many of the judgments of this world will be reversed.