"If, my lords, six months' imprisonment was the admeasurement of the law officers of the crown as an adequate punishment for my alleged offence--a.s.suming that the court had jurisdiction to try and punish--then, am I now ent.i.tled to my discharge independent of all other grounds of discharge, for I have gone through seven months of an imprisonment which could not be excelled by demon ingenuity in horror and in hardship--in solitude, in silence and in suspense. Your lordships will not only render further litigation necessary by pa.s.sing sentence for the perhaps high crime--but still the untried crime--of refusing to yield obedience to the crown's proposition for my self-abas.e.m.e.nt. You will not, I am sure, visit upon my rejection of Mr. Anderson's delicate overture--you will not surely permit the events occurring, unhappily occurring, since my trial to influence your judgments. And do not, I implore you, accept as a truth, influencing that judgement, Talbot's definition of the objects of Feminism. Hear what Devany, the American informer, describes them to be. 'The members,' he says, 'were _pledged by word of honour_ to promote love and harmony amongst all cla.s.ses of Irishmen and to labour for the independence of Ireland.' Talbot says that in Ireland 'the members are _bound by oath_ to seize the property of the country and murder all opposed to them.' Can any two principles be more distinct from each other? Could there be a conspiracy for a common object by such antagonistic means? To murder all opposed to your principles may be an effectual way of producing unanimity, but the quality of love and harmony engendered by such a patent process, would be extremely equivocal. Mr. Talbot, for the purposes of his evidence, must have borrowed a leaf from the History of the French Revolution, and adopted as singularly telling and appropriate for effect the saying attributed to Robespiere: 'Let us cut everybody's throat but our own, and then we are sure to be masters.'

"No one in America, I venture to affirm, ever heard of such designs in connexion with the Fenian Brotherhood. No one in America would countenance such designs. Revolutionists are not ruffians or rapparees. A judge from the bench at Cork, and a n.o.ble lord in his place in parliament, bore testimony to that fact, in reference to the late movement; and I ask you, my lords--I would ask the country from this court--for the sake of the character of your countrymen--to believe Devany's interpretation of Fenianism--tainted traitor though he be--rather than believe that the kindly instincts of Irishmen, at home and abroad--their generous impulses--their tender sensibilities--all their human affections, in a word--could degenerate into the attributes of the a.s.sa.s.sin, as stated by that hog-in-armour, that crime-creating Constable Talbot.

"Taking other ground, my lords, I object to any sentence upon me. I stand at this bar a declared citizen of the United States of America, ent.i.tled to the protection of such citizenship; and I protest against the right to pa.s.s any sentence in any British court for acts done, or words spoken, or alleged to be done or spoken, on American soil, within the shades of the American flag, and under the sanction of American inst.i.tutions. I protest against the a.s.sumption that would in this country limit the right of thought, or control the liberty of speech in an a.s.semblage of American citizens in an American city. The United States will, doubtless, respect and protect her neutrality laws and observe the comity of nations, whatever they may mean in practice, but I protest against the monstrous fiction--the transparent fraud--that would seek in ninety years after the evacuation of New York by the British to bring the people of New York within the vision and venue of a British jury--that in ninety years after the last British bayonet had glistened in an American sunlight, after the last keel of the last of the English fleet ploughed its last furrow in the Hudson or the Delaware--after ninety years of republican independence--would seek to restore that city of New York and its inst.i.tutions to the dominion of the crown and government of Great Britain. This is the meaning of it, and disguise it as you may, so will it be interpreted beyond the Atlantic. Not that the people of America care one jot whether S.J. Meany were hanged, drawn, and quartered to-morrow, but that there is a great principle involved.

Personally, I am of no consequence; politically, I represent in this court the adopted citizen of America--for, as the _New York Herald_, referring to this case, observed, if the acts done in my regard are justifiable, there is nothing to prevent the extension of the same justice to any other adopted citizen of the States visiting Great Britain. It is, therefore, in the injustice of the case the influence lies, and not in the importance of the individual.

"Law is called 'the perfection of reason.' Is there not danger of its being regarded as the very climax of absurdity if fictions of this kind can be turned into realities on the mere caprice of power. As a distinguished English journalist has suggested in reference to the case, 'though the law may doubtless be satisfied by the majority in the Court of Appeal, yet common sense and common law would be widely antagonistic if sentence were to follow a judgment so obtained.'

"On all grounds then I submit, in conclusion, this is not a case for sentence. Waving for the purpose the international objection, and appealing to British practice itself, I say it is not a fair case for sentence. The professed policy of that practice has ever been to give the benefit of doubt to the prisoner. Judges in their charges to juries have ever theorized on this principle, and surely judges themselves will not refuse to give practical effect to the theory. If ever there was a case which more than another was suggestive of doubt, it is surely one in which so many judges have p.r.o.nounced against the legality of the trial and the validity of the conviction on which you are about to pa.s.s sentence. Each of these judges, be it remembered, held competent in his individuality to administer the criminal law of the country--each of whom, in fact, in his individuality does so administer it unchallenged and unquestioned.

"A sentence under such circ.u.mstances, be it for a long period or a short would be wanting in the element of moral effect--the effect of example--which could alone give it value, and which is professedly the aim of all legal punishment. A sentence under such circ.u.mstances would be far from rea.s.suring to the public mind as to the 'certainties' of the law, and would fail to commend the approval or win the respect of any man 'within the realm or without.' While to the prisoner, to the sufferer in chief, it would only bring the bitter, and certainly not the repentant feeling that he suffered in the wrong--that he was the victim of an injustice based on an inference which not even the tyrant's plea of necessity can sustain--namely, that at a particular time he was at a distance of three thousand miles from the place where he then actually stood in bodily presence, and that at that distance he actually thought the thoughts and acted the acts of men unknown to him even by name. It will bring to the prisoner, I repeat, the feeling--the bitter feeling--that he was condemned on an unindicted charge pressed suddenly into the service, and for a constructive crime which some of the best authorities in the law have declared not to be a crime cognizable in any of your courts.

"Let the crown put forward any supposition they please--indulge in what special pleadings they will--sugar over the bitter pill of constructive conspiracy as they can--to this complexion must come the triangular injustice of this case--the illegal and unconst.i.tutional kidnapping in England--the unfair and invalid trial and conviction in Ireland for the alleged offence in another hemisphere and under mother sovereignty. My lords, I have done."

CAPTAIN JOHN M'CLURE.

Captain John M'Clure, like Captain M'Afferty, was an American born, but of Irish parentage. He was born at Dobb's Ferry, twenty-two miles from New York, on July 17th, 1846, and he was therefore a mere youth when, serving with distinguished gallantry in the Federal ranks, he attained the rank of captain. He took part in the Fenian rising of the 5th March, and was prominently concerned in the attack and capture of Knockadoon coast-guard station. He and his companion, Edward Kelly, were captured by a military party at Kilclooney Wood, on March 31st, after a smart skirmish, in which their compatriot the heroic and saintly Peter Crowley lost his life. His trial took place before the Special Commission at Cork, on May 22nd and 23rd, 1807. The following are the spirited and eloquent terms in which he addressed the court previous to sentence being p.r.o.nounced on him:--

"My lords--In answer to the question as to why the sentence of the court should not now be pa.s.sed upon me, I would desire to make a few remarks in relation to my late exertions in behalf of the suffering people of this country, in aiding them in their earnest endeavours to attain the independence of their native land. Although not born upon the soil of Ireland, my parents were, and from history, and tradition, and fireside relations, I became conversant with the country's history from my earliest childhood, and as the human race will ever possess these G.o.d-like qualities which inspire mankind with sympathy for the suffering, a desire to aid poor Ireland to rise from her moral degradation took possession of me. I do not now wish to say to what I a.s.sign the failure of that enterprise with which are a.s.sociated my well-meant acts for this persecuted land. I feel fully satisfied of the righteousness of my every act in connexion with the late revolutionary movement in this country, being actuated by a holy desire to a.s.sist in the emanc.i.p.ation of an enslaved and generous people. I derive more pleasure from having done the act than from any other event that has occurred to me during my eventful but youthful life. I wish it to be distinctly understood here, standing as I do perhaps on the brink of an early grave, that I am no fillibuster or freebooter, and that I had no personal object or inclination to gain anything in coming to this country. I came solely through love of Ireland and sympathy for her people. If I have forfeited my life. I am ready to abide the issue. If my exertions on behalf of a distressed people be a crime, I am willing to pay the penalty, knowing, as I do, that what I have done was in behalf of a people whose cause is just--a people who will appreciate and honour a man, although he may not be a countryman of their own--still a man who is willing to suffer in defence of that divine, that American principle--the right of self-government. I would wish to tender to my learned and eloquent counsel, Mr. Heron and Mr. Waters, and to my solicitor, Mr. Collins, my sincere and heartfelt thanks for the able manner in which they have conducted my defence. And now, my lords, I trust I will meet in a becoming manner the penalty which it is now the duty of your lordship to p.r.o.nounce upon me. I have nothing more to say."

EDWARD KELLY.

On the same occasion the prisoner Edward Kelly delivered the following soul-stirring address:--

"My lords--The novelty of my situation will plead for any want of fluency on my part; and I beg your lordships' indulgence if I am unnecessarily tedious. I have to thank the gentlemen of the jury for their recommendation, which I know was well meant; but knowing, as I do, what that mercy will be, I heartily wish that recommendation will not be received. Why should I feel regret? What is death? The act of pa.s.sing from this life into the next. I trust that G.o.d will pardon me my sins, and that I will have no cause to fear entering into the presence of the ever-living and Most Merciful Father. I don't recollect in my life ever having done anything with a deliberately bad intention. In my late conduct I do not see anything for regret.

Why then, I say, should I feel regret? I leave the dread of death to such wretches as Corridon and Ma.s.sey--Corridon, a name once so suggestive of sweetness and peace, now the representative of a loathsome monster. If there be anything that can sink that man, Corridon, lower in the scales of degradation, it is--"

The Chief Justice--"We cannot listen to any imputation on persons who were examined as witnesses. Strictly speaking, you are only to say why sentence of death should not be pa.s.sed upon you; at the same time we are very unwilling to hold a very strict hand, but we cannot allow imputations to be made on third persons, witnesses or others, who have come forward in this trial."

Prisoner--"Well, my lord, I will answer as well as I can the question put to me. The Irish people through every generation ever since England has obtained a footing in Ireland, have protested against the occupation of our native soil by the English. Surely that is answer enough why sentence of death should not be pa.s.sed upon me. In the part I have taken in the late insurrection, I feel conscious that I was doing right. Next to serving his Creator, I believe it is a man's solemn duty to serve his country. [Here the prisoner paused to suppress his emotion, which rendered his utterance very feeble, and continued]--my lords, I have nothing more to say, except to quote the words of the sacred psalmist, in which you will understand that I speak of my country as he speaks of his:--'If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand be forgotten, let my tongue cleave to my jaws if I do not remember thee: if I make not Jerusalem the beginning of my joy. Remember, O Lord, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem: who say, raze, raze it, even to the foundation thereof. O daughter of Babylon, miserable: blessed be he who shall repay thee thy payment which thou hast paid us.' In conclusion, my lords, I wish to give my thanks to my attorney, Mr. Collins, for his untiring exertions, and also to my counsel, Mr. Heron, for his able defence, and to Mr. Waters."

CAPTAIN WILLIAM MACKAY.

In the evidence adduced at the Cork Summer a.s.sizes of 1867, on the trials of persons charged with partic.i.p.ation in the Fenian rising of March 5th, the name of Captain Mackay frequently turned up. The captain, it would appear, was a person of influence and importance in the insurrectionary army. He had taken part in many councils of the Fenian leaders, he was trusted implicitly by his political friends, and much deference was paid to his opinion. But more than all this, he had taken the field on the night of the rising, led his men gallantly to the attack of Ballyknockane police barrack, and, to the-great horror of all loyal subjects, committed the enormous offence of capturing it. This, and the similar successes achieved by Lennon at Stepaside and Glencullen, county Wicklow, were some of the incidents of the attempted rebellion which most annoyed the government, who well knew the influence which such events, occurring at the outset of a revolutionary movement, are apt to exercise on the popular mind. Captain Mackay, therefore, was badly "wanted" by the authorities after the Fenian rising; there was any money to be given for information concerning the whereabouts of Captain Mackay, but it came not. Every loyal-minded policeman in Cork county, and in all the other Irish counties, and every detective, and every spy, and every traitor in the pay of the government, kept a sharp look out for the audacious Captain Mackay, who had compelled the garrison of one of her Majesty's police barracks to surrender to him, and hand him up their arms in the quietest and most polite manner imaginable; but they saw him not, or if they saw, they did not recognise him.

So month after month rolled on, and no trace of Captain Mackay could be had. The vigilant guardians and servants of English law in Ireland, then began to think he must have managed to get clear out of the country, and rather expected that the next thing they would hear of him would be that he was organizing and lecturing amongst the Irish enemies of England in the United States. There, however, they were quite mistaken, as they soon found out to their very great vexation and alarm.

On the 27th day of December, 1867, there was strange news in Cork, and strange news all over the country, for the telegraph wires spread it in every direction. The news was that on the previous evening a party of Fenians had entered the Martello tower at Foaty, on the north side of the Cork river, made prisoners of the gunners who were in charge, and had then taken possession of, and borne away all the arms and ammunition they could find in the place! Startling news this was undoubtedly. Loyal men stopped each other in the streets, and asked if anything like it had ever been heard of. They wanted to know if things were not coming to a pretty pa.s.s, and did not hesitate to say they would feel greatly obliged to anyone who could answer for them the question "What next?" For this sack of the Martello tower was not the first successful raid for arms which the Fenians had made in that neighbourhood. About a month before--on the night of November 28th--they had contrived to get into the shop of Mr. Richardson, gunmaker, Patrick-street, and abstract from the premises no fewer than 120 revolvers and eight Snider rifles, accomplishing the feat so skilfully, that no trace either of the weapons or the depredators had since been discovered. This was what might be called a smart stroke of work, but it shrunk into insignificance compared with the audacious act of plundering one of her Majesty's fortified stations.

The details of the affair, which were soon known, were received by the public with mingled feelings of amus.e.m.e.nt and amazement. The Fenian party, it was learned, had got into the tower by the usual means of entrance--a step-ladder, reaching to the door, which is situate at some height from the ground. One party of the invaders remained in the apartment just inside the entrance door, while another numbering five persons, proceeded to an inner room, where they found two of the gunners, with their families, just in the act of sitting down to tea. In an instant revolvers were placed at the heads of the men, who were told not to stir on peril of their lives. At the same time a.s.surances were given to them, and to the affrighted women, that if they only kept quiet and complied with the demands of the party no harm whatever should befal them. The garrison saw that resistance was useless, and promptly acceded to those terms. The invaders then asked for and got the keys of the magazine, which they handed out to their friends, who forthwith set to work to remove the ammunition which they found stored in the vaults.

They seized about 300 lbs. of gunpowder, made up in 8 lb. cartridges, a quant.i.ty of fuses, and other military stores, and then proceeded to search the entire building for arms. Of these, however, they found very little--nothing more than the rifles and sword bayonets of the two or three men who const.i.tuted the garrison, a circ.u.mstance which seemed to occasion them much disappointment. They were particularly earnest and pressing in their inquiries for hand-grenades, a species of missile which they had supposed was always kept "in stock" in such places. They could scarcely believe that there were none to be had. Some charges of grape-shot which they laid hands on might be, they thought, the sort of weapon they were in quest of, and they proceeded to dissect and a.n.a.lyse one of them. Grape-shot, we may explain to the unlearned in these matters, is "an a.s.semblage, in the form of a cylindrical column, of nine b.a.l.l.s resting on a circular plate, through which pa.s.ses a pin serving as an axis. The b.a.l.l.s are contained in a strong canvas bag, and are bound together on the exterior of the latter by a cord disposed about the column in the manner of a net." This was not the sort of thing the Fenian party wanted; grape-shot could be of no use to them, for the Fenian organization, to its great sorrow, was possessed of no artillery; they resolved, therefore, to leave those ingeniously-constructed packages behind them, and to retire with the more serviceable spoils they had gathered. While the search was proceeding, the Fenian sentries, with revolvers ready in their hands, stood guard over the gunners, and prevented anyone--young or old--from quitting the room. They spoke kindly to all however, chatted with the women, and won the affectionate regards of the youngsters by distributing money among them. One of these strange visitors became so familiar as to tell one of the women that if she wished to know who he was, his name was Captain Mac--a piece of information which did not strike her at the time as being of any peculiar value. When the party had got their booty safely removed from the building, this chivalrous captain and his four a.s.sistant sentries prepared to leave; they cautioned the gunners, of whom there were three at this time in the building--one having entered while the search was proceeding--against quitting the fort till morning, stating that men would be on the watch outside to shoot them if they should attempt it.

So much being said and done, they bade a polite good evening to her Majesty's gunners and their interesting families, and withdrew.

The heroic garrison did not venture out immediately after they had been relieved of the presence of the Fenian party; but finding that a few charges of powder were still stowed away in a corner of the fort, they hurried with them to the top of the building and commenced to blaze away from the big gun which was there _in situ_. This performance they meant as a signal of distress; but though the sounds were heard and the flashes seen far and wide, no one divined the object of what appeared to be nothing more than an oddly-timed bit of artillery practice. Next morning the whole story was in every one's mouth. Vast was the amus.e.m.e.nt which it afforded to the Corkonians generally, and many were the encomiums which they pa.s.sed on the dashing Irish-Americans and smart youths of Cork's own town who had accomplished so daring and clever a feat. Proportionally great was the irritation felt by the sprinkling of loyalists and by the paid servants of the crown in that quarter. One hope at all events the latter party had, that the leader in the adventure would soon be "in the hands of justice," and one comforting a.s.surance, that never again would the Fenians be able to replenish their armoury in so easy and so unlawful a manner.

Four days afterwards there was another "sensation" in Cork. The Fenian collectors of arms had made another haul! And this time their mode of action surpa.s.sed all their previous performances in coolness and daring.

At nine o'clock in the morning, on the 30th of December, eight men, who had a.s.sumed no disguise, suddenly entered the shop of Mr. Henry Allport, gunmaker, of Patrick-street, and producing revolvers from their pockets, covered him and his two a.s.sistants, telling then at the same time that if they ventured to stir, or raise any outcry, they were dead men. While the shopmen remained thus bound to silence, five of the party proceeded to collect all the rifles and revolvers in the establishment, and place them in a canvas sack which had been brought for the purpose. This sack, into which a few guns and seventy-two splendid revolvers of the newest construction had been put, was then carried off by two men, who, having transferred the contents to the safe-keeping of some confederates, returned with it very quickly to receive and bear away a large quant.i.ty of revolver cartridges which had been found in the shop. This second "loot" having been effected, the guards who stood over Mr. Allport and his men, lowered their weapons, and after cautioning all three not to dare to follow them, quitted the shop in a leisurely manner, and disappeared down one of the by-streets. As soon as he was able to collect his scattered wits, Mr. Allport rushed to the nearest police station, and gave information of what had occurred. The police hastened to the scene of this daring exploit, but of course "the birds were flown," and no one could say whither.

Needless to say how this occurrence intensified the perplexity and the rage of the government party in all parts of the country. There was surely some fierce swearing in Dublin Castle on the day that news arrived, and perhaps many a pa.s.sionate query blurted out as to whether police, detectives, magistrates, and all in that southern district were not secretly in league with the rebels. In fact, a surmise actually got into the papers that the proprietors of the gunshops knew more about the disappearance of the arms, and were less aggrieved by the "seizure" than they cared to acknowledge. However this might be, the popular party enjoyed the whole thing immensely, laughed over it heartily, and expressed in strong terms their admiration of the skill and daring displayed by the operators. The following squib, which appeared in the _Nation_ at the time, over the initials "T.D.S.," affords an indication of the feelings excited among Irish nationalists by those extraordinary occurrences:--

THE CORK MEN AND NEW YORK MEN

Oh, the gallant Cork men, Mixed with New York men, I'm sure their equals they can't be found, For persevering In deeds of daring, They set men staring the world around.

No spies can match them, No sentries watch them, No specials catch them or mar their play, While the clever Cork men And cute New York men Work new surprises by night and day.

Sedate and steady, Calm, quick, and ready, They boldly enter, and make no din.

Where'er such trifles As Snider rifles And bright six-shooters are stored within.

The Queen's round towers Can't baulk their powers, Off go the weapons by sea and sh.o.r.e, To where the Cork men And smart New York men Are daily piling their precious store.

John Bull, in wonder, With voice like thunder, Declares such plunder he roust dislike, They next may rowl in And sack Haulbowline, Or on a sudden run off with Spike.

His peace is vanished, His joys are banished, And gay or happy no more he'll be, Until those Cork men And wild New York men Are sunk together beneath the sea.

Oh, bold New York men And daring Cork men, We own your pleasures should all grow dim, On thus discerning And plainly learning That your amus.e.m.e.nt gives pain to _him_.

Yet, from the nation, This salutation Leaps forth, and echoes with thunderous sound-- "Here's to all Cork men, Likewise New York men, Who stand for Ireland, the world around!"

But Captain Mackay, skilful and "lucky" as he was, was trapped at last.

On the evening of the 7th of February, 1868, he walked into the grocery and spirit shop of Mr. Cronin in Market-street--not to drink whiskey or anything of that sort, for he was a man of strictly temperate habits, and he well knew that of all men those who are engaged in the dangerous game of conspiracy and revolution can least afford to partake of drinks that may unloose their tongues and let their wits run wild. He called for a gla.s.s of lemonade, and recognising some persons who were in the shop at the time, he commenced a conversation with them.

Only a few minutes from the time of his entrance had elapsed when a party of police, wearing a disguise over their uniforms, rushed into the shop, and commanded the door to be shut.