Chapter I: Part 1

[Transcriber's note: The spelling inconsistencies of the original are retained in this etext.]

THE

"WEARING OF THE GREEN,"

_OR_

THE PROSECUTED FUNERAL PROCESSION.

* * * * *

Let the echoes fall unbroken;
Let our tears in silence flow;
For each word thus nobly spoken,
Let us yield a nation's woe;
Yet, while weeping, sternly keeping
Wary watch upon the foe.

_Poem in the_ "NATION."

DUBLIN:

A.M. SULLIVAN, ABBEY STREET.

1868.

THE

PROSECUTED FUNERAL PROCESSION.

* * * * *

The news of the Manchester executions on the morning of Saturday, 23rd November, 1867, fell upon Ireland with sudden and dismal disillusion.

In time to come, when the generation now living shall have passed away, men will probably find it difficult to fully realize or understand the state of stupor and amazement which ensued in this country on the first tidings of that event; seeing, as it may be said, that the victims had lain for weeks under sentence of death, to be executed on this date. Yet surprise indubitably was the first and most overpowering emotion; for, in truth, no one up to that hour had really credited that England would take the lives of those three men on a verdict already publicly admitted and proclaimed to have been a blunder. Now, however, came the news that all was over--that the deed was done--and soon there was seen such an upheaving of national emotion as had not been witnessed in Ireland for a century. The public conscience, utterly shocked, revolted against the dreadful act perpetrated in the outraged name of justice. A great billow of grief rose and surged from end to end of the land. Political distinctions disappeared or were forgotten. The Manchester Victims--the Manchester Martyrs, they were already called--belonged to the Fenian organization; a conspiracy which the wisest and truest patriots of Ireland had condemned and resisted; yet men who had been prominent in withstanding, on national grounds, that hopeless and disastrous scheme--priests and laymen--were now amongst the foremost and the boldest in denouncing at every peril the savage act of vengeance perpetrated at Manchester. The Catholic clergy were the first to give articulate expression to the national emotion. The executions took place on Saturday; before night the telegraph had spread the news through the island; and on the next morning, being Sunday, from a thousand altars the sad event was announced to the assembled worshippers, and prayers were publicly offered for the souls of the victims. When the news was announced, a moan of sorrowful surprise burst from the congregation, followed by the wailing and sobbing of women; and when the priest, his own voice broken with emotion, asked all to join with him in praying the Merciful God to grant those young victims a place beside His throne, the assemblage with one voice responded, praying and weeping aloud!

The manner in which the national feeling was demonstrated on this occasion was one peculiarly characteristic of a nation in which the sentiments of religion and patriotism are so closely blended. No stormy "indignation meetings" were held; no tumult, no violence, no cries for vengeance arose. In all probability--nay, to a certainty--all this would have happened, and these ebullitions of popular passion would have been heard, had the victims not passed into eternity. But now, they were gone where prayer alone could follow; and in the presence of this solemn fact the religious sentiment overbore all others with the Irish people. Cries of anger, imprecations, and threats of vengeance, could not avail the dead; but happily religion gave a vent to the pent-up feelings of the living. By prayer and mourning they could at once, most fitly and most successfully, demonstrate their horror of the guilty deed, and their sympathy with the innocent victims.

Requiem Masses forthwith were announced and celebrated in several churches; and were attended by crowds everywhere too vast for the sacred edifices to contain. The churches in several instances were draped with black, and the ceremonies conducted with more than ordinary solemnity. In every case, however, the authorities of the Catholic church were careful to ensure that the sacred functions were sought and attended for spiritual considerations, not used merely for illegitimate political purposes; and wherever it was apprehended that the holy rites were in danger of such use, the masses were said privately.

And soon public feeling found yet another vent; a mode of manifesting itself scarcely less edifying than the Requiem Masses; namely, funeral processions. The brutal vengeance of the law consigned the bodies of Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien to dishonoured graves; and forbade the presence of sympathising friend or sorrowing relative who might drop a tear above their mutilated remains. Their countrymen now, however, determined that ample atonement should be made to the memory of the dead for this denial of the decencies of sepulture. On Sunday, 1st December, in Cork. Manchester, Mitchelstown, Middleton, Limerick, and Skibbereen, funeral processions, at which thousands of persons attended, were held; that in Cork being admittedly the most imposing, not only in point of numbers, but in the character of the demonstration and the demeanour of the people.

For more than twenty years Cork city has held an advanced position in the Irish national struggle. In truth, it has been one of the great strongholds of the national cause since 1848. Nowhere else did the national spirit keep its hold so tenaciously and so extensively amidst the people. In 1848 Cork city contained probably the most formidable organization in the country; formidable, not merely in numbers, but in the superior intelligence, earnestness, and determination of the men; and even in the Fenian conspiracy, it is unquestionable that the southern capital contributed to that movement men--chiefly belonging to the mercantile and commercial classes--who, in personal worth and standing, as well as in courage, intelligence, and patriotism, were the flower of the organization. Finally, it must be said, that it was Cork city by its funeral demonstration of the 1st December, that struck the first great blow at the Manchester verdict, and set all Ireland in motion. [Footnote: It may be truly said set the Irish race all over the world in motion. There is probably no parallel in history for the singular circumstance of these funeral processions being held by the dispersed Irish in lands remote, apart, as pole from pole--in the old hemisphere and in the new--in Europe, in America, in Australia; prosecutions being set on foot by the English government to punish them at both ends of the world--in Ireland and in New Zealand! In Hokatika the Irish settlers--most patriotic of Ireland's exiles--organized a highly impressive funeral demonstration. The government seized and prosecuted its leaders, the Rev. Father Larkin, a Catholic clergyman, and Mr. Wm. Manning, editor of the _Hokatika Celt_. A jury, terrified by Fenian panic, brought them in "guilty," and the patriot priest and journalist were consigned to a dungeon for the crime of mourning for the dead and protesting against judicial murder.]

Meanwhile the Irish capital had moved, and was organizing a demonstration destined to surpass all that had yet been witnessed. Early in the second week of December, a committee was formed for the purpose of organizing a funeral procession in Dublin, worthy of the national metropolis. Dublin would have come forward sooner, but the question of the _legality_ of the processions that were announced to come off the previous week in Cork and other places, had been the subject of fierce discussion in the government press; and the national leaders were determined to avoid the slightest infringement of the law or the least inroad on the public peace. It was only when, on the 3rd of December, Lord Derby, the Prime Minister, replying in the House of Lords to Lord Dufferin, declared the opinion of the crown that the projected processions were not illegal, that the national party in Dublin decided to form a committee and organize a procession. The following were Lord Derby's words:--

"He could assure the noble lord that the government would continue to
carry out the law with firmness and impartiality. The Party
Processions Act, however, did not meet the case of the funeral
processions, the parties engaged in them having, by not displaying
banners or other emblems, kept within the law as far as his
information went."

Still more strong assurance was contained in the reply of the Irish Chief Secretary, Lord Mayo, to a question put by Sir P. O'Brien in the House of Commons. Lord Mayo publicly announced and promised that if any new opinion as to the legality of the processions should be arrived at--that is, should the crown see in them anything of illegality--_due and timely notice would be given_ by proclamation, so that no one might offend through ignorance. Here are his words:--

"It is the wish of the government to act strictly in accordance with
the law; _and of course ample notice will be given either by
proclamation or otherwise_."

The Dublin funeral committee thereupon at once issued the following announcement, by placard and advertisement:--

GOD SAVE IRELAND!
A PUBLIC FUNERAL PROCESSION

In honour of the Irish Patriots
Executed at Manchester, 23rd November,
Will take place in Dublin
On Sunday next, the 8th inst.

* * * * *

The procession will assemble in Beresford-place, near the Custom
House, and will start from thence at the hour of twelve o'clock noon.

* * * * *

No flags, banners, or party emblems will be allowed.

* * * * *

IRISHMEN

Assemble in your thousands, and show by your numbers and your orderly
demeanour your sympathy with the fate of the executed patriots.

* * * * *

IRISHWOMEN

You are requested to lend the dignity of your presence to this
important National Demonstration.

By Order of the Committee.

JOHN MARTIN, Chairman.
J.C. WATERS, Hon. Secretary.
JAMES SCANLAN, Hon. Secretary.
J.J. LALOR, Hon. Secretary.
DONAL SULLIVAN, Up. Buckingham-street, Treasurer.

The appearance of the "funeral procession placards" all over the city on Thursday, 5th December, increased the public excitement. No other topic was discussed in any place of public resort, but the event forthcoming on Sunday. The first evidence of what it was about to be, was the appearance of the drapery establishments in the city on Saturday morning; the windows, exteriorly and interiorly, being one mass of crape and green ribbon--funeral knots, badges, scarfs, hat-bands, neckties, &c., exposed for sale. Before noon most of the retail, and several of the wholesale houses had their entire stock of green ribbon and crape exhausted, it being computed that _nearly one hundred thousand yards_ had been sold up to midnight of Saturday! Meantime the committee sat _en permanance_, zealously pushing their arrangements for the orderly and successful carrying out of their great undertaking--appointing stewards, marshals, &c.--in a word, completing the numerous details on the perfection of which it greatly depended whether Sunday was to witness a successful demonstration or a scene of disastrous disorder. On this, as upon every occasion when a national demonstration was to be organized, the trades of Dublin, Kingstown, and Dalkey, exhibited that spirit of patriotism for which they have been proverbial in our generation. From their ranks came the most efficient aids in every department of the preparations. On Saturday evening the carpenters, in a body, immediately after their day's work was over, instead of seeking home and rest, refreshment or recreation after their week of toil, turned into the _Nation_ office machine rooms, which they quickly improvised into a vast workshop, and there, as volunteers, laboured away till near midnight, manufacturing "wands" for the stewards of next morning's procession.

Sunday, 8th December, 1867, dawned through watery skies. From shortly after day-break, rain, or rather half-melted sleet, continued to fall; and many persons concluded that there would be no attempt to hold the procession under such inclement weather. This circumstance was, no doubt, a grievous discouragement, or rather a discomfort and an inconvenience; but so far from preventing the procession, it was destined to add a hundred-fold to the significance and importance of the demonstration. Had the day been fine, tens of thousands of persons who eventually only lined the streets, wearing the funeral emblems, would have marched in the procession as they had originally intended; but hostile critics would in this case have said that the fineness of the day and the excitement of the pageant had merely caused a hundred thousand persons to come out for a holiday. Now, however, the depth, reality, and intensity of the popular feeling was about to be keenly tested. The subjoined account of this memorable demonstration is summarised from the Dublin daily papers of the next ensuing publication, the report of the _Freeman's Journal_ being chiefly used:--

As early as ten o'clock crowds began to gather in Beresford-place,
and in an hour about ten thousand men were present. The morning had
succeeded to the hopeless humidity of the night, and the drizzling
rain fell with almost dispiteous persistence. The early trains from
Kingstown and Dalkey, and all the citerior townlands, brought large
numbers into Dublin; and Westland-row, Brunswick, D'Olier, and
Sackville-streets, streamed with masses of humanity. A great number
of the processionists met in Earlsfort-terrace, all round the
Exhibition, and at twelve o'clock some thousands had collected. It
was not easy to learn the object of this gathering; it may have been
a mistake, and most probably it was, as they fell in with the great
body in the course of half an hour. The space from the quays,
including the great sweep in front of the Custom-house, was swarming
with men, and women, and small children, and the big ungainly crowd
bulged out in Gardiner-street, and the broad space leading up
Talbot-street. The ranks began to be formed at eleven o'clock amid a
down-pour of cold rain. The mud was deep and aqueous, and great pools
ran through the streets almost level with the paths. Some of the more
prominent of the men, and several of the committee, rode about
directing and organizing the crowd, which presented a most
extraordinary appearance. A couple of thousand young children stood
quietly in the rain and slush for over an hour; while behind them, in
close-packed numbers, were over two thousand young women. Not the
least blame can be attached to those who managed the affairs of the
day, inasmuch as the throng must have far exceeded even their most
sanguine expectations. Every moment some overwhelming accession
rolled down Abbey-street or Eden-quay, and swelled the already
surging multitude waiting for the start. Long before twelve o'clock,
the streets converging on the square were packed with spectators or
intending processionists. Cabs struggled hopelessly to yield up the
large number of highly respectable and well-attired ladies who had
come to walk. Those who had hired vehicles for the day to join the
procession were convinced of the impracticable character of their
intention; and many delicate old men who would not give up the
design, braved the terrors of asthma and bronchitis, and joined the
rain-defying throng. Right across the spacious ground was one
unmoving mass, constantly being enlarged by ever-coming crowds. All
the windows in Beresford-place were filled with spectators, and the
rain and cold seemed to have no saddening effect on the numerous
multitude. The various bands of the trade were being disposed in
their respective positions, and the hearses were a long way off and
altogether in the back-ground, when, at a quarter to twelve, the
first rank of men moved forward. Almost every one had an umbrella,
but they were thoroughly saturated with the never-ceasing down-pour.
As the steady, well-kept, twelve-deep ranks moved slowly out, some
ease was given to those pent up behind; and it was really wonderful
to see the facility with which the people adapted themselves to the
orders of their directors. Every chance of falling in was seized, and
soon the procession was in motion. The first five hundred men were of
the artisan class. They were dressed very respectably, and each man
wore upon his left shoulder a green rosette, and on his left arm a
band of crape. Numbers had hat-bands depending to the shoulder;
others had close crape intertwined carefully with green ribbon around
their hats; and the great majority of the better sort adhered to this
plan, which was executed with a skill unmistakably feminine. Here and
there at intervals a man appeared with a broad green scarf around his
shoulders, some embroidered with shamrocks, and others decorated with
harps. There was not a man throughout the procession but was
conspicuous by some emblem of nationality. Appointed officers walked
at the sides with wands in their hands and gently kept back the
curious and interested crowd whose sympathy was certainly
demonstrative. Behind the five hundred men came a couple of thousand
young children. These excited, perhaps, the most considerable
interest amongst the bystanders, whether sympathetic, neutral, or
opposite. Of tender age and innocent of opinions on any subject, they
were being marshalled by their parents in a demonstration which will
probably give a tone to their career hereafter; and seeds in the
juvenile mind ever bear fruit in due season. The presence of these
shivering little ones gave a serious significance to the
procession--they were hostages to the party who had organized the
demonstration. Earnestness must indeed have been strong in the mind
of the parent who directed his little son or daughter to walk in
saturating rain and painful cold through five or six miles of mud and
water, and all this merely to say "I and my children were there." It
portends something more than sentiment. It is national education with
a vengeance. Comment on this remarkable constituent was very frequent
throughout the day, and when toward evening this band of boys sang
out with lusty unanimity a popular Yankee air, spectators were
satisfied of their culture and training. After the children came
about one hundred young women who had been unable to gain their
proper position, and accepted the place which chance assigned them.
They were succeeded by a band dressed very respectably, with crape
and green ribbons round their caps. These were followed by a number
of rather elderly men, probably the parents of the children far
ahead. At this portion of the procession, a mile from the point, they
marched four deep, there having been a gradual decline from the
front. Next came the bricklayers' band all dressed in green caps, a
very superior-looking body of men. Then followed a very imposing
well-kept line, composed of young men of the better class, well
attired and respectable looking. These wore crape hat-bands, and
green rosettes with harps in the centre. Several had broad green body
scarfs, with gold tinsel shamrocks and harps intertwined. As this
portion of the procession marched they attracted very considerable
attention by their orderly, measured tread, and the almost soldierly
precision with which they maintained the line. They numbered about
four or five thousand, and there were few who were not young, sinewy,
stalwart fellows. When they had reached the further end of
Abbey-street, the ground about Beresford-place was gradually becoming
clear, and the spectator had some opportunity afforded of glancing
more closely at the component parts of the great crowd. All round the
Custom-house was still packed a dense throng, and large streams were
flowing from the northern districts, Clontarf, the Strand, and the
quays. The shipping was gaily decorated, and many of the masts were
filled with young tars, wearing green bands on their hats. At
half-past twelve o'clock, the most interesting portion of the
procession left the Custom-house. About two thousand young women, who
in attire, demeanour, and general appearance, certainly justified
their title to be called ladies walked in six-deep ranks. The general
public kept pace with them for a great distance. The green was most
demonstrative, every lady having shawl, bonnet, veil, dress, or
mantle of the national hue. The mud made sad havoc of their attire,
but notwithstanding all mishaps they maintained good order and
regularity. They stretched for over half a-mile, and added very
notably to the imposing appearance, of the procession. So great was
the pressure in Abbey-street, that for a very long time there were no
less than three processions walking side-by-side. These halted at the
end of the street, and followed as they were afforded opportunity.
One of the bands was about to play near the Abbey-street Wesleyan
House, but when a policeman told them of the proximity of the place
of worship, they immediately desisted. The first was a very long way
back in the line, and the foremost men must have been near the
Ormond-quays, when the four horses moved into Abbey-street. They were
draped with black cloths, and white plumes were at their heads. The
hearse also had white plumes, and was covered with black palls. On
the side was "William P. Allen." A number of men followed, and then
came a band. In the earlier portion of the day there were seen but
two hearses, the second one bearing Larkin's name. It was succeeded
by four mourning coaches, drawn by two horses each. A large number
of young men from the monster houses followed in admirable order. In
this throng were very many men of business, large employers, and
members of the professions. Several of the trades were in great
force. It had been arranged to have the trade banners carried in
front of the artisans of every calling, but at the suggestion of the
chairman this design was abandoned. The men walked, however, in
considerable strength. They marched from their various
committee-rooms to the Custom-house. The quay porters were present to
the number of 500, and presented a very orderly, cleanly appearance.
They were comfortably dressed, and walked close after the hearse
bearing Larkin's name. Around this bier were a number of men bearing
in their hands long and waving palms--emblems of martyrdom. The
trades came next, and were led off by the various branches of the
association known as the Amalgamated Trades. The plasterers made
about 300, the painters 350, the boot and shoemakers mustered 1,000,
the bricklayers 500, the carpenters 300, the slaters 450, the sawyers
200, and the skinners, coopers, tailors, bakers, and the other
trades, made a very respectable show, both as to numbers and
appearance. Each of these had representatives in the front of the
procession, amongst the fine body of men who marched eight deep. The
whole ground near the starting place was clear at half-past one, and
by that time the demonstration was seen to a greater advantage than
previously. All down Abbey-streets, and in fact throughout the
procession, the pathways were crowded by persons who were practically
of it, though not in it. Very many young girls naturally enough
preferred to stand on the pathways rather than to be saturated with
mud and water. But it may truly be said that every second man and
woman of the crowds in almost every street were of the procession.
Cabs filled with ladies and gentlemen remained at the waysides all
day watching the march. The horses' heads were gaily decorated with
green ribbons, while every Jehu in the city wore a rosette or a crape
band. Nothing of special note occurred until the procession turned
into Dame-street. The appearance of the demonstration was here far
greater than at any other portion of the city. Both sides of the
street, and as far as Carlisle-bridge, were lined with cabs and
carriages filled with spectators who were prevented by the bitter
inclemency of the day from taking an active part in the proceedings.
The procession was here grandly imposing, and after Larkin's hearse
were no less than nine carriages, and several cabs. It is stated that
Mrs. Luby and Miss Mulcahy occupied one of the vehicles, and
relatives of others now in confinement were alleged to have been
present. One circumstance, which was generally remarked as having
great significance, was the presence in one line of ten soldiers of
the 86th Regiment. They were dressed in their great overcoats, which
they wore open so as to show the scarlet tunic. These men may have
been on leave, inasmuch as the great military force were confined to
barracks, and kept under arms from six o'clock, a.m. The cavalry were
in readiness for action, if necessary. Mounted military and police
orderlies were stationed at various points of the city to convey any
requisite intelligence to the authorities, and the constabulary at
the depot, Phoenix Park, were also prepared, if their services should
be required. At the police stations throughout the city large numbers
of men were kept all day under arms. It is pleasant to state that no
interference was necessary, as the great demonstration terminated
without the slightest disturbance. The public houses generally
remained closed until five o'clock, and the sobriety of the crowds
was the subject of the general comment.

From an early hour in the morning every possible position along the
quays that afforded a good view of the procession was taken advantage
of, and, despite the inclemency of the weather, the parapets of the
various bridges, commencing at Capel-street, were crowded with
adventurous youths, who seemed to think nothing of the risks they ran
in comparison with the opportunities they had of seeing the great
sight in all its splendour. From eleven until twelve o'clock the
greatest efforts were made to secure good places The side walks were
crowded and impassable. The lower windows of the houses were made the
most of by men who clutched the shutters and bars, whilst the upper
windows were, as a general rule, filled with the fair sex, and it is
almost unnecessary to add that almost every man, woman, and child
displayed some emblem suitable to the occasion. Indeed, the
originality of the designs was a striking feature. The women wore
green ribbons and veils, and many entire dresses of the favourite
colour. The numerous windows of the Four Courts accommodated hundreds
of ladies, and we may mention that within the building were two
pieces of artillery, a plentiful supply of rockets, and a number of
policemen. It was arranged that the rockets should be fired from the
roof in case military assistance was required. Contrary to the
general expectation, the head of the procession appeared at
Essex-bridge shortly before twelve o'clock. As it was expected to
leave Beresford-place about that time, and as such gigantic
arrangements are seldom carried out punctually, the thousands of
people who congregated in this locality were pleasantly disappointed
when a society band turned the corner of Mary-street and came towards
the quays, with the processionists marching in slow and regular time.
The order that prevailed was almost marvellous--not a sound was heard
but the mournful strains of the music, and the prevalent feeling was
expressed, no doubt, by one or two of the processionists, who said in
answer to an inquiry, "We will be our own police to-day." They
certainly were their own police, for those who carried white wands
did not spare themselves in their endeavours to maintain order in the
ranks. As we have mentioned already, the first part of the procession
reached Capel-street shortly before twelve o'clock, and some idea of
the extent of the demonstration may be formed from the fact that the
hearses did not come in view until a quarter-past one o'clock. They
appeared at intervals of a quarter of an hour, and were received by a
general cry of "hush." The number of fine, well-dressed young women
in the procession here was the subject of general remark, whilst the
assemblage of boys astonished all who witnessed it on account of its
extent. The variety of the tokens of mourning, too, was remarkable.
Numbers of the women carried laurel branches in addition to green
ribbons and veils, and many of the men wore shamrocks in their hats.
The procession passed along the quays as far as King's-bridge, and it
there crossed and passed up Stevens'-lane. The windows of all the
houses _en route_ were crowded chiefly with women, and the railings
at the Esplanade and at King's-bridge, were crowded with spectators.

About one o'clock the head of the procession, which had been
compressed into a dense mass in Stevens'-lane, burst like confined
water when relieved of restraint, on entering James's-street, where
every window and doorstep was crowded. Along the lines of footway
extending at either side from the old fountain up to James's-gate,
were literally tented over with umbrellas of every hue and shade,
held up as protection against the cold rain that fell in drizzling
showers and made the streetway on which the vast numbers stood ankle
deep in the slushy mud. The music of the "Dead March in Saul," heard
in the distance, caused the people to break from the lines in which
they had partially stood awaiting the arrival of the procession,
which now, for the first time, began to assume its full proportions.
As it moved along the quays at the north side of the river, every
street, bridge, and laneway served to obstruct to a considerable
extent its progress and its order, owing to interruption from
carriage traffic and from the crowds that poured into it and swelled
it in its onward course. In the vast multitudes that lined this great
western artery of the city, the greatest order and propriety were
observed, and all seemed to be impressed with the one solemn and
all-pervading idea that they were assembled to express their deep
sympathy with the fate of three men whom they believed had been
condemned and had suffered death unjustly. Even amongst the young
there was not to be recognised the slightest approach to levity, and
the old characteristics of a great Irish gathering were not to be
perceived anywhere. The wrong, whether real or imaginary, done to
Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin, made their memory sacred with the
thousands that stood for hours in the December wet and cold of
yesterday, to testify by their presence their feelings and their
sympathies. The horsemen wearing green rosettes, trimmed with crape,
who rode in advance of the procession, kept back the crowds at either
side that encroached on the space in the centre of the street
required for the vast coming mass to move through. On it came, the
advance with measured tread, to the music of the band in front, and
notwithstanding the mire which had to be waded through, the line went
on at quiet pace, and with admirable order, but there was no effort
at anything like semi-military swagger or pompous demonstration.
Every window along the route of the procession was fully occupied by
male and female spectators, all wearing green ribbons and crape, and
in front of several of the houses black drapery was suspended. The
tide of men, women, and children continued to roll on in the
drenching rain, but nearly all the fair processionists carried
umbrellas. It was not till the head of the vast moving throng had
reached James's-gate that anything like a just conception could be
formed of its magnitude, as it was only now that it was beginning to
get into regular shape and find room to extend itself. The persons
whose duty it was to keep the several parts of the procession well
together had no easy part to play, as the line had to be repeatedly
broken to permit the ordinary carriage traffic of the streets to go
on with as little delay as possible. The _cortege_ at this point
looked grand and solemn in the extreme because of its vastness, and
also because of all present appearing to be impressed with the one
idea. The gloomy, wet, and cheerless weather was quite in keeping
with the funeral march of 35,000 people. The bands were placed at
such proper distances that the playing of one did not interfere with
the other. After passing James's-gate the band in front ceased to
perform, and on passing the house 151 Thomas-street every head was
uncovered in honour of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, who was arrested and
mortally wounded by Major Sirr and his assistants in the front
bedroom of the second floor of that house. Such was the length of the
procession, that an hour had elapsed from the time its head entered
James's-street before the first hearse turned the corner of
Stevens'-lane. In the neighbourhood of St. Catherine's church a vast
crowd of spectators had settled down, and every available elevation
was taken possession of. At this point a large portion of the
streetway was broken up for the purpose of laying down water-pipes,
and on the lifting-crane and the heaps of earth the people wedged and
packed themselves, which showed at once that this was a great centre
of attraction--and it was, for here was executed the young and
enthusiastic Robert Emmet sixty-four years ago. When Allen, O'Brien,
and Larkin were condemned to death as political offenders, some of
the highest and the noblest in the land warned the government to
pause before the extreme penalty pronounced on the condemned men
would be carried into effect, but all remonstrance was in vain, and
on last Saturday fortnight, three comparatively unknown men in their
death passed into the ranks of heroes and martyrs, because it was
believed, and believed generally, that their lives were sacrificed to
expediency, and not to satisfy justice. The spot where Robert Emmet
closed his young life on a bloody scaffold was yesterday regarded by
thousands upon thousands of his countrymen and women as a holy place,
and all looked upon his fate as similar to that of the three men
whose memory they had assembled to honour, and whose death they
pronounced to be unjust. It would be hard to give a just conception
of the scene here, as the procession advanced and divided, as it
were, into two great channels, owing to the breaking up of the
streetway. On the advance of the _cortege_ reaching the top of
Bridgefoot-street every head was uncovered, and nothing was to be
heard but the measured tread of the vast mass, but as if by some
secret and uncontrollable impulse a mighty, ringing, and enthusiastic
cheer, broke from the moving throng as the angle of the footway at
the eastern end of St. Catherine's church, where the scaffold on
which Emmet was executed stood, was passed. In that cheer there
appeared to be no fiction, as it evidently came straight from the
hearts of thousands, who waved their hats and handkerchiefs, as did
also the groups that clustered in the windows of the houses in the
neighbourhood. As the procession moved on from every part of it the
cheers rose again and again, men holding up their children, and
pointing out the place where one who loved Ireland, "not wisely but
too well," rendered up his life. When the hearse with white plumes
came up bearing on the side draperies the words "William P. Allen,"
all the enthusiasm and excitement ceased, and along the lines of
spectators prayers for the repose of the soul of the departed man
passed from mouth to mouth; and a sense of deep sadness seemed to
settle down on the swaying multitude as the procession rolled along
on its way. After this hearse came large numbers of females walking
on bravely, apparently heedless of the muddy streets and the
unceasing rain that came down without a moment's intermission. When
the second hearse, bearing white plumes and the name of "Michael
O'Brien" on the side pendants, came up, again all heads were
uncovered, and prayers recited by the people for the everlasting rest
of the departed. Still onward rolled the mighty mass, young and old,
and in the entire assemblage was not to be observed a single person
under the influence of drink, or requiring the slightest interference
on the part of the police, whose exertions were altogether confined
to keeping the general thoroughfare clear of obstruction. Indeed,
justly speaking, the people required no supervision, as they seemed
to feel that they had a solemn duty to discharge. Fathers were to be
seen bearing in their arms children dressed in white and decorated
with green ribbons, and here, as elsewhere, was observed unmistakable
evidence of the deep sympathy of the people with the executed men.
This was, perhaps, more strikingly illustrated as the third hearse,
with sable plumes, came up bearing at either side the name of
"Michael Larkin;" prayers for his soul's welfare were mingled with
expressions of commiseration for his widow and children. At the
entrance to Cornmarket, where the streetway narrows, the crushing
became very great, but still the procession kept its onward course.
On passing the shop of Hayburne, who, it will be remembered, was
convicted of being connected with the Fenian conspiracy, a large
number of persons in the procession uncovered and cheered. In the
house of Roantree, in High-street, who was also convicted of
treason-felony, a harp was displayed in one of the drawingroom
windows by a lady dressed in deep mourning, and the procession loudly
cheered as it passed on its route.

Standing at the corner of Christchurch-place, a fine view could be
had of the procession as it approached Winetavern-street from
High-street. The compact mass moved on at a regular pace, while from
the windows on either side of the streets the well-dressed citizens,
who preferred to witness the demonstration from an elevated position
rather than undergo the fatigues and unpleasantness of a walk through
the city in such weather, eagerly watched the approach of the
procession. Under the guidance of the horsemen and those whose wands
showed it was their duty to marshal the immense throng, the
procession moved at an orderly pace down Winetavern-street, which,
spacious as it is, was in a few minutes absolutely filled with the
vast crowds. The procession again reached the quays, and moved along
Wood-quay and Essex-quay, and into Parliament-street, which it
reached at twenty minutes to two o'clock. Passing down
Parliament-street, and approaching the O'Connell statue, a number of
persons began to cheer, but this was promptly suppressed by the
leaders, who galloped in advance for some distance with a view to the
preservation of the mournful silence that had prevailed. This was
strictly enjoined, and the instruction was generally observed by the
processionists. The reverential manner in which the many thousands of
the people passed the statue of the Liberator was very observable. A
rather heavy rain was falling at the time, yet there were thousands
who uncovered their heads as they looked up to the statue which
expressed the noble attitude and features of O'Connell. As the
procession moved along through Dame-street the footways became
blocked up, and lines of cabs took up places in the middle of the
carriageway, and the police exercised a wise discretion in preventing
vehicles from the surrounding streets driving in amongst the crowds.
By this means the danger of serious accident was prevented without
any public inconvenience being occasioned, as a line parallel to that
which the procession was taking was kept clear for all horse
conveyances. Owing to the hour growing late, and a considerable
distance still to be gone over, the procession moved at a quick pace.
In anticipation of its arrival great crowds collected in the vicinity
of the Bank of Ireland and Trinity College, where the _cortege_ was
kept well together, notwithstanding the difficulty of such a vast
mass passing on through the heart of the city filled at this point
with immense masses of spectators. Oil passing the old
Parliament-house numbers of men in the procession took of their hats,
but the disposition to cheer was suppressed, as it was at several
other points along the route. Turning down Westmoreland-street, the
procession, marshalled by Dr. Waters on horseback, passed slowly
along between the thick files of people on each side, most of whom
displayed the mourning and national symbols, black and green. The
spacious thoroughfare in a few minutes was filled with the dense
array, which in close compact ranks pressed on, the women, youths,
and children, bearing bravely the privations of the day, the bands
preceding and following the hearses playing the Dead March, the
solemn notes filling the air with mournful cadence. The windows of
the houses on each side of the street were filled with groups of
spectators of the strange and significant spectacle below. With the
dark masses of men, broken at intervals by the groups of females and
children, still stretched lengthily in the rere, the first section of
the procession crossed Carlisle-bridge, the footways and parapets of
which were thronged with people, nearly all of whom wore the usual
tokens of sympathy. Passing the bridge, a glance to the right, down
the river, revealed the fact that the ships, almost without
exception, had their flags flying half mast high, and that the
rigging of several were filled with seamen, who chose this elevated
position to get a glimpse of the procession as it emerged into
Sackville-street. Here the sight was imposing. A throng of spectators
lined each side of the magnificent thoroughfare, and the lofty houses
had their windows on each side occupied with spectators. Pressing
onwards with measured, steady pace, regardless of the heavy rain, the
cold wind, and the gloomy sky, the procession soon filled
Sackville-street from end to end with its dense dark mass, which
stretching away over Carlisle-bridge, seemed motionless in the
distance. The procession defiled to the left of the site of the
O'Connell monument at the head of the street, and the national
associations connected with this spot was acknowledged by the large
numbers of the processionists, who, with uncovered heads, marched
past, some expressing their feelings with a subdued cheer. The
foremost ranks were nearing Glasnevin when the first of the hearses
entered Sackville-street, which, at this moment, held a numberless
throng of people, processionists, and spectators, the latter, as at
all the other points of the route, exhibiting prominently the sable
and green emblems, which evidenced their approval of the
demonstration. The hearses slowly passed along, followed by the
mourning carriages, the bands playing alternately "Adeste Fidelis"
and the "Dead March," and then followed the deep column of the
processionists, still marching onwards with unflagging spirit,
thousands seeming to be thoroughly soaked with the rain, which was
falling all the morning. Sackville-street was perhaps the best point
from which to get a correct notion of the enormous length of the
procession, and of the great numbers that accompanied it on its way
without actually entering the ranks. The base of the Nelson monument
was covered with spectators, and at the corners of Earl-street and
Henry-street there were stationary crowds, who chose these positions
to get a good view of the great display as it progressed towards
Cavendish-row. Through this comparatively narrow thoroughfare the
procession passed along into North Frederick-street and
Blessington-street, and thence by Upper Berkeley-street to the
Circular-road. Along this part of the route there were crowds of
spectators, male and female, most of whom wore the crape, and green
ribbons, all hurrying forward to the cemetery, the last stage of the
long and fatiguing journey of the procession. As the first part of
the array passed the Mater Misericordiæ Hospital, and came in sight
of the Mountjoy Prison, they gave a cheer, which was caught up by
those behind, and as file after file passed the prison the cheers
were repeated. With unbroken and undiminished ranks the procession
pressed on towards Glasnevin; but when the head had reached the
cemetery, the closing section must have been far away in the city.
The first part of the procession halted outside the gate of the
cemetery, the spacious area in front of which was in a few moments
completely filled by the dense masses who came up. A move then became
necessary, and accordingly the procession recommenced its journey by
passing through the open gates of the cemetery down the pathways
leading to the M'Manus grave, followed by some of the bands playing
the "Adeste Fidelis." As fast as the files passed through others
marched up, and when, after some time the carriage containing Mr.
John Martin arrived, the open ground fronting the cemetery was one
enormous mass of the processionists, while behind on the road leading
up to this point thousands were to be seen moving slowly forward to
the strains of the "Dead March," given out by the bands immediately
in front of the hearses.

MR. MARTIN'S ADDRESS.

On the arrival of the procession at the cemetery Mr. Martin was
hailed with loud applause. It being understood he would make some
observations, the multitude gathered together to hear him. He
addressed the vast multitude from the window of a house overlooking
the great open space in front of the cemetery. On presenting himself
he was received with enthusiastic cheering. When silence was obtained
he said:--

"Fellow-countrymen--This is a strange kind of funeral procession
in which we are engaged to-day. We are here, a vast multitude
of men, women, and children in a very inclement season of
the year, under rain and through mud. We are here escorting three
empty hearses to the consecrated last resting place of those who die
in the Lord (cheers). The three bodies that we would tenderly bear to
the churchyard, and would bury in consecrated ground with all the
solem rites of religion, are not here. They are away in a foreign and
hostile land (hear, hear), where they have been thrown into
unconsecrated ground, branded by the triumphant hatred of our enemies
as the vile remains of murderers (cries of 'no murderers,' and
cheers). Those three men whose memories we are here to-day to
honour--Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin--they were not murderers (great
cheering). [A Voice--Lord have mercy on them.] Mr. Martin--These men
were pious men, virtuous men--they were men who feared God and loved
their country. They sorrowed for the sorrows of the dear old native
land of their love (hear, hear). They wished, if possible, to save
her, and for that love and for that wish they were doomed to an
ignominious death at the hands of the British hangman (hear, hear).
It was as Irish patriots that these men were doomed to death
(cheers). And it was as Irish patriots that they met their death
(cheers). For these reasons, my countrymen, we here to-day have
joined in this solemn procession to honour their memories (cheers).
For that reason we say from our hearts, 'May their souls rest in
peace' (cries of Amen, and cheers). For that reason, my countrymen,
we join in their last prayer, 'God save Ireland' (enthusiastic
cheering). The death of these three men was an act of English policy.
[Here there was some interruption caused by the fresh arrivals and
the pushing forward.] I beg of all within reach of my voice to end
this demonstration as we have carried it through to the present time,
with admirable patience, in the best spirit, with respect, silence
and solemnity, to the end (cheers, and cries of 'we will'). I say the
death of these men was a legal murder, and that legal murder was an
act of English policy (cheers)--of the policy of that nation which
through jealousy and hatred of our nation, destroyed by fraud and
force our just government sixty-seven years ago (cheers). They have
been sixty-seven sad years of insult and robbery--of
impoverishment--of extermination--of suffering beyond what any other
subject people but ours have ever endured from the malignity of
foreign masters (cheers). Nearly through all these years the Irish
people continued to pray for the restoration of their Irish national
rule. They offered their forgiveness to England. They offered even
their friendship to England if she would only give up her usurped
power to tyrannise over us, and leave us to live in peace, and as
honourable neighbours. But in vain. England felt herself strong
enough to continue to insult and rob us, and she was too greedy and
too insolent to cease from robbing and insulting us (cheers). Now it
has come to pass as a consequence of that malignant policy pursued
for so many long years--it has come to pass that the great body of
the Irish people despair of obtaining peaceful restitution of our
national rights (cheers). And it has also come to pass that vast
numbers of Irishmen, whom the oppression of English rule forbade to
live by honest industry in their own country, have in America learned
to become soldiers (cheers). And those Irish soldiers seem resolved
to make war against England (cheers). And England is in a panic of
rage and fear in consequence of this (loud cheers). And being in a
panic about Fenianism, she hopes to strike terror into her Irish
malcontents by a legal murder (loud cheers). England wanted to show
that she was not afraid of Fenianism--[A Voice--'She will be.'] And
she has only shown that she is not afraid to do injustice in the face
of Heaven and of man. Many a wicked statute she has framed--many a
jury she has packed, in order to dispose of her Irish political
offenders--but in the case of Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin, she has
committed such an outrage on justice and decency as to make even many
Englishmen stand aghast. I shall not detain you with entering into
details with which you are all well acquainted as to the shameful
scenes of the handcuffing of the untried prisoners--as to the
shameful scenes of the trial up to the last moment, when the three
men--our dearly beloved Irish brethren, were forced to give up their
innocent lives as a sacrifice for the cause of Ireland (loud cheers);
and, fellow-countrymen, these three humble Irishmen who represented
Ireland on that sad occasion demeaned themselves as Christians, as
patriots, modestly, courageously, piously, nobly (loud cheers). We
need not blush for them. They bore themselves all through with a
courage worthy of the greatest heroes that ever obtained glory upon
earth. They behaved through all the trying scenes I referred to with
Christian patience--with resignation to the will of God--(hear,
hear)--with modest, yet proud and firm adherence to principle
(cheers). They showed their love to Ireland and their fear of God
from the first to the last (cheers). It is vain for me to attempt to
detain you with many words upon this matter. I will say this, that
all who are here do not approve of the schemes for the relief of
Ireland that these men were supposed to have contemplated; but all
who love Ireland, all generous, Christian men, and women, and
children of Ireland--all the children growing up to be men and women
of Ireland (hear, hear)--all those feel an intense sympathy, an
intense love for the memories of these three men whom England has
murdered in form of law by way of striking terror into her Irish
subjects. Fellow-countrymen, it is idle almost for me to persist in
addressing weak words of mine to you--for your presence here
to-day--your demeanour all through--the solemn conduct of the vast
multitude assembled directly under the terrorism of a hostile
government--say more than the words of the greatest orator--more than
the words of a Meagher could say for you (cheers). You have behaved
yourselves all through this day with most admirable spirit as good
Irishmen and women--as good boys and girls of holy Ireland ought to
be (cheers), and I am sure you will behave so to the end (cries of
yes, yes). This demonstration is mainly one of mourning for the fate
of these three good Irishmen (cheers), but fellow-countrymen, and
women, and boys, and girls, it is also one of protest and indignation
against the conduct of our rulers (hear, hear, and cheers) Your
attendance here to-day is a sufficient protest. Your orderly
behaviour--your good temper all through this wretched weather--your
attendance here in such vast numbers for such a purpose--avowedly and
in the face of the terrorism of the government, which falls most
directly upon the metropolis--that is enough for protest. You in your
multitudes, men, women, and children, have to-day made that protest.
Your conduct has been admirable for patience, for good nature, for
fine spirit, for solemn sense of that great duty you were resolved to
do. You will return home with the same good order and
inoffensiveness. You will join with me now in repeating the prayer of
the three martyrs whom we mourn--'God save Ireland!' And all of you,
men, women, and boys and girls that are to be men and women of holy
Ireland, will ever keep the sentiment of that prayer in your heart of
hearts." Mr. Martin concluded amid enthusiastic cheering.