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and searching there is not a solitary fact married people. Love and anxiety on his established against her. But, says the defend- part. On her part a statement of all the diffiant "You artful woman, you temptress, you culties and embarrassments to which, as his enchantress, why did you dare to send any- wife, she was subjected in a distant countrybody round the different hotels to ascertain letters addressed to her as his wife, letters from what could be proved against you?" Who is it her to him as her husband-all things clear, puts that question? The defendant. And what intelligent, and distinct, until, at last, there is he detected in having done? He cut a lock is a letter-glided over by Sergeant Armof hair from the head of a child seven years old, strong, which I call the Christmas-day letter, that he thought was like the hair on the head of and if there is one of you who has a doubt the woman he had deceived, and that he in- that there was a secret lawful marriage, I beg tended to marry, and not to marry, and that he of you to hear what Major Yelverton himself wants now to unmarry. He gets a piece of a has written on the subject. "I have every gown he says she wore, and he places before his reason," he says, "to believe that next June witnesses what is not the hair of his wife, and a will see you through the scrape." No one piece of a dress that may not have been the dress denies that tallies with the date of the marof that injured woman, and endeavours to fab-riage. He writes:-"Carrissima mia-I fear ricate evidence to destroy her character as he it is not a reservation of bon bons that has had destroyed her happiness; and when, by ac- caused my silence this time, but what you wrote cident, we learned it, for we knew it not, Iaver, in your last letter but one. You say I told until the lady in the box told you the story of you my resolution in case certain events did the lock of hair, which her counsel heard then occur. You were very angry, but it would be for the first time,—we asked how it was dis- my duty, and if I love I must do it. Your covered, the young woman, Miss Crabbe, was resolution is founded on false views. Where telegraphed for, and now that she has arrived, is your duty of keeping faith with me? I have why are you not to believe her? Sergeant never intentionally deceived you, and have Armstrong talked of murder. What would done more than I promised at great risk.” be your feelings if you had been on the point Was that a voyage up the Rhine, gentlemen? of sending to the gallows a fellow-being upon No. I call on you to believe that what he the evidence of Bridget Cole and Rose Fagan there refers to was the marriage ceremony in that the woman who sat in the witness-box the church at Rostrevor. "I told you the was the woman who called on them, a state-event we fear could be avoided, and you cerment falsified before your own eyes? Would tainly cannot doubt that it is equally unwelyou ever enjoy a happy hour?—would you ever come to me as it can be to you; but, if the fail to deplore the rash act you had done as future proves that I have been deceived by jurors in being persuaded by rash evidence of others, that will not absolve you from your identity to take away the life of your innocent faith, the which, if you break with me, you fellow-creature? Honour and virtue are as dear will never from that moment have even one to woman as life. Why should you rob her of of tolerable content during the rest of your her honour, all that is left her, upon the rotten life. If you do feel any love for me you must testimony that has been concocted against her? change that resolution. If I depart this life you may speak; or, if you do, you may leave a legacy of the facts; but whilst we both live you must trust me and I must trust you. When I find my trust misplaced, if you have any affection for me, I do not envy you the future. Your duty lies this way, not that." Gentlemen of the jury, what does that mean? What, I again ask, does it mean? It means this-I, your inexorable master, warn you that you must not disclose our marriage. I care not for the birth of a child. Secrecy is the bond. No matter how you are exposed, no matter how you are degraded, I have made a sacrifice for you, and whatever may be your feelings as a gentlewoman, a wife, and a mother, you must endure the disgrace, or else
Why did we do what we did in this respect? Because we found what was being fabricated against us. That young woman told you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and she has demonstrated that what was sworn by Cole and the other woman is entirely and absolutely false. What, therefore, becomes of that portion of the case? It has vanished. It is gone. What is the remainder of this case on the correspondence? I pray attention to it. The correspondence read by my learned friend (Sergeant Sullivan), who, like a lawyer, commenced where he ought to commence, and gave it from the date of the marriage to the closing awful scene that took place at Leith, is all through, I say, the correspondence of
you shall never have one happy hour for the rest of your life. What is the argument of his counsel? That from the day he was at Galeta he was her deliberate, skilful, scientific, and unconscionable seducer.
Though, says the defendant (by his argument), I have added hypocrisy, profanity, deception, and blasphemy, I am not bound to pay for the sustenance of this woman. I am not her wedded husband, I stand before you her profligate and unprincipled seducer. I found her young, I found her virtuous, I found her beautiful. What is she now? Innocence defiled, virtue lost, beauty spoiled, and hopes of life fled for ever. Better the hand of death had swept her to an early grave; it would have been consecrated by the tears of maternal affection-gentle tears, recalling happy memories of the past, assuaged and checked by blessed hopes of a bright immortal future. He has blasted her happiness in this life, he has endangered it in the life to come, according to his own argument. Save him from the consequences of that argument, and do not brand him, as his counsel do, as a scientific, deliberate, unprincipled seducer. How stands the question, now that the whole of this great trial is before you-now that you have all these facts-and I cannot dwell at this hour minutely upon each particular circumstance, as I might have done if I had gained you at an earlier hour of the day, in endeavouring to reason it step by step? I ask you to judge of that woman as she has appeared before you; and then say, Do you believe her? Trace her life up from the first hour that she stood within the wall of the convent until the day she sat in that box to tell the story of her multitudinous sorrows. Ask yourselves what fact has been proved against her with any living man save the defendant. Her crime is she loved him too dearly, and too well. Had she possessed millions, she would have flung them at his feet. Had she a throne to bestow, she would have placed him on that throne. She gave him the kingdom of her heart, and made him sovereign of her affections. There he reigned with undisputed sway. Great the gift! Our affections were by an Almighty hand planted in the human heart. They have survived the fall, and repaired the ravages of sin and death. They dignify, exalt, and inspire our existence here below, which, without them, were cold, monotonous, and dull. They unite heart to heart by adamantine links. Nor are their uses limited to this life. We may well believe
that when the mysterious union between soul and body is dissolved, the high affections of our nature, purified, spiritualized, immortalized, may add to the felicity unspeakable reserved for the spirits of the just made perfect through the countless ages of eternity. She gave him her affections-she gave him her love ---a woman's love! Who can fathom its depths? Who can measure its intensity? Who can describe its devotion? She told you herself what that love was when she wrote to him, "If you were to be executed as a convict I would stand below the gallows." If he had taken that woman for his wife misery would have endeared him to her, poverty she would have shared, from sickness or misfortune she would never have fled; she would have been his constant companion, his guide, his friend-his polluted mistress, never! Therefore, I now call on you to do justice to that injured woman. You cannot restore her to the husband she adored or the happiness she enjoyed. You cannot give colour to that faded cheek, or lustre to that eye that has been dimmed by many a tear. You cannot relieve the sorrows of her bursting heart, but you may restore her to her place in society. You may, by your verdict, enable her to say, "Rash I have been, indiscreet I may have been through excess of my affection for you, but guilty, never!" You may replace her in the rank which she would never disgraceyou may restore her to that society in which she is qualified to shine, and has ever adorned! To you I commit this great cause. I am not able longer to address you. Would to God I had talents or physical energy to exert either or both longer on the part of this injured, insulted woman. She finds an advocate in you— she finds it in the respected judge on the bench-she finds it in every heart that beats within this court, and in every honest man throughout the country.
IN DEFENCE OF C. G. DUFFY.' I have told you what constitutes the great crime of conspiracy; it is one of combination, and it is fearfully set forth in books, so often quoted in the history of the state trials of England, where there are terrible examples given of wrong verdicts, by which men were deprived of their liberty, their lives, and by which innocence was struck down. But, on the other hand, there were in those state trials 1 For a notice of Charles Gavan Duffy, see page 1).
great and glorious examples of triumphs over | lished tyranny, swept away the monstrous
power, over the crown, and over kings-as in the case of Hardy on parliamentary reform, and in the case of Horne Tooke, who saved public opinion so far from being extinguished in England, and which would have been the case had not the jury interfered. In earlier days, in the days of the Second James, the seven bishops were charged with a conspiracy for asserting the opinion of freedom; but then a jury also interfered, and those bishops were acquitted, and acquitted amidst those shouts which proclaimed universal freedom. In darker periods of history-in the times of Cromwell, who usurped the monarchy and all under the sacred name of religion, yet dared not to abolish the forms of public justice, they so prevailed and subsisted-that when, in the plenitude of his power, he prosecuted for a libel, there were twelve honest men who had the courage not to pronounce the defendant guilty, thus proving that the unconquerable love of liberty still survived in the hearts of Englishmen. I will say that the true object of this unprecedented prosecution is to stifle the discussion of a great public question. Reviewed in this light, all other considerations sink into insignificance; its importance becomes vast indeed. A nation's rights are involved in the issue-a nation's liberties are at stake-that won-what preserves the precious privileges you possess? The exercise of the right of political discussion-free, untram-speech, and straightway begin a prosecution melled, bold. The laws which wisdom framed to cripple or destroy it. The open despot -the institutions struck out by patriotism, avows his object is to oppress or enslave-relearning, or genius-can they preserve the sistance is certain to encounter his tyranny, springs of freedom fresh and pure? No; de- and perhaps subvert it. Not so the artful astroy the right of free discussion, and you dry sailant of a nation's rights he declares friendup the sources of freedom. By the same ship while he wages war, and professes affecmeans by which your liberties were won, can tion for the thing he hates. they be increased or defended. Do not quarrel with the partial evils free discussion creates, nor seek to contract the enjoyment of the greatest privilege within the narrow limit timid men prescribe. With the passing mischiefs of its extravagance, contrast the prodigious bless-peace-a death-like stillness--by repressing ings it has heaped on man. the feelings and passions of men. So in the fairest portions of Europe this day, there is peace, and order, and submission, under paternal despotism, ecclesiastical and civil. That peace springs from terror, that submission from ignorance, that silence from despair. Who dares discuss, when with discussion and by discussion tyranny must perish? Compare the stillness of despotism with the healthful animation, the natural warmth, the bold language, the proud bearing, which spring from
abuses it rears, and established the liberties under which we live. Free discussion, since that glorious epoch, has not only preserved but purified our constitution, reformed our laws, reduced our punishments, and extended its wholesome influence to every portion of our political system. The spirit of inquiry it creates has revealed the secrets of nature— explained the wonders of creation, teaching the knowledge of the stupendous works of God. Arts, science, civilization, freedom, pure religion, are its noble realities. Would you undo the labours of science, extinguish literature, stop the efforts of genius, restore ignorance, bigotry, barbarism, then put down free discussion, and you have accomplished all. Savage conquerors, in the blindness of their ignorance, have scattered and destroyed the intellectual treasures of a great antiquity. Those who make war on the sacred rights of free discussion, without their ignorance imitate their fury. They may check the expression of some thought which, if uttered, might redeem the liberties or increase the happiness of man. The insidious assailants of this great prerogative of intellectual beings, by the cover under which they advance, conceal the character of their assault upon the liberties of the human race. They seem to admit the liberty to discuss-blame only its extravagance, pronounce hollow praises on the value of freedom of
State prosecutions, if you believe them, are ever the fastest friends of freedom. They tell you peace is disturbed, order broken by the excesses of turbulent and seditious demagogues. No doubt there might be a seeming
Free discussion aroused the human mind from the torpor of ages-taught it to think, and shook the thrones of ignorance and darkness. Free discussion gave to Europe the Reformation, which I have been taught to believe the mightiest event in the history of the human race-illuminated the world with the radiant light of spiritual truth. May it shine with steady and increasing splendour! Free discussion gave to England the Revolution, abo
freedom, and the consciousness of its possession. Which will you prefer? Insult not the dignity of manhood by supposing that contentment of the heart can exist under despotism. There may be degrees in its severity, and so degrees in the sufferings of its victims. Terrible the dangers which lurk beneath the calm surface of despotic power. The movements of the oppressed will at times disturb the tyrant's tranquillity, and warn him, that their day of vengeance or of triumph may be nigh. But in these happy countries the very safety of the state consists in freedom of discussion. Partial evils in all systems of political governments there must be; but their worst effects are obviated when their cause is sought for, discovered, considered, discussed. Milton has taught a great political truth, in language as instructive as his sublimest verse:
"For this is not the liberty which we can hope, that no grievances ever should arise in the commonwealth-that let no man in this world expect; but when complaints are freely heard, deeply considered, and speedily reformed then is the utmost bound of civil liberty obtained that wise men look for." Suffer the complaints of the Irish people to be freely heard. You want the power to have them speedily reformed. Their case to-day may be yours to-morrow. Preserve the right of free discussion as you would cling to life. Combat error with argument, misrepresentation by fact, falsehood with truth. "For who knows not," saith the same great writer, "that truth is strong-next to the Almighty? One needs no policies nor stratagems to make her victorious- these are the shifts error uses against her power."
If this demand for a native parliament rest on a delusion, dispel that delusion by the omnipotence of truth. Why do you lovewhy do other nations honour England? Are you are they dazzled by her naval or military glories, the splendour of her literature, her sublime discoveries in science, her bound-the less wealth, her almost incredible labours in every work of art and skill? No; you love her you cling to England because she has been for ages past the seat of free discussion, and therefore, the home of rational freedom, and the hope of oppressed men throughout the world. Under the laws of England it is our happiness to live. They breathe the spirit of liberty and reason. Emulate this day the great virtues of Englishmen-their love of fairness their immovable independence, and the sense of justice rooted in their nature
these are the virtues which qualify jurors to decide the rights of their fellow-men. Deserted by these, of what avail is the tribunal of a jury? It is worthless as the human body when the living soul has fled. Prove to the accused, from whom, perchance, you widely differ in opinion-whose liberties and fortunes are in your hands—that you are there not to persecute, but to save. Believe me, you will not secure the true interests of England by leaning too severely on your countrymen. They say to their English brethren, and with truth-We have been at your side whenever danger was to be faced or honour won. The scorching sun of the east and the pestilence of the west, we have endured to spread your commerce-to extend your empire-to uphold your glory. The bones of our countrymen whitened the fields of Portugal, of Spain, of France. Fighting your battles they fell-in a nobler cause they could not. We have helped to gather your imperishable laurels. We have helped to win your immortal triumphs. Now, in time of peace, we ask you to restore that parliament you planted here with your laws and language, uprooted in a dismal period of our history, in the moment of our terror, our divisions, our weakness, it may be our crime. Re-establish the commons on the broad foundation of the people's choice-replace the peerage, the corinthian pillars of the capitol, secured and adorned with the strength and splendour of the crown
and let the monarch of England, as in ages past, rule a brilliant and united empire in solidity, magnificence, and power.
When the privileges of the English parliament were invaded, that people took the field, struck down the ministry, and dragged their sovereign to the block. We shall not imitate English precedent, while we struggle for a parliament. That institution you prize so highly, which fosters your wealth, adds to your prosperity, and guards your freedom, was ours for six hundred years. Restore
blessing and we shall be content. This prosecution is not essential for the maintenance of the authority and prerogative of the crown. Our gracious sovereign needs not state prosecutions to secure her prerogatives or preserve her power. She has the unbought loyalty of a chivalrous and gallant people. The arm of authority she requires not to raise. The glory of her gentle reign will be— she will have ruled, not by the sword, but by the affections; that the true source of her power has been, not in terrors of the law, but in the hearts of her people. Your patience
is exhausted. If I have spoken suitably to the subject, I have spoken as I could have wished; but if, as you may think, deficiently, I have spoken as I could. Do you, from what has been said, and from the better arguments omitted, which may be well suggested by your manly understandings and your honest hearts, give a verdict consistent with justice, yet leaning to liberty-dictated by truth, yet
inclining to the side of the accused men, struggling against the weight, and power, and influence of the crown, and prejudice more overwhelming still a verdict undesired by any party, but to be applauded by the impartial monitor within your breasts, becoming the high spirit of Irish gentlemen, and the intrepid guardians of the rights and liberties of a free people.
THOMAS D'ARCY M'GEE.
BORN 1825-DIED 1868.
[The history of the majority of the brilliant | An offer of a situation on the Freeman's men who took part in the insurrectionary Journal brought him back to Ireland; but he movement in 1848 is one of failure. Meagher soon abandoned that journal for the more was drowned, Williams died young and in congenial Nation, which, under the editorship poverty, Mitchel's brief triumph of a few days of Gavan Duffy, was at this period preaching was the close of a bitter struggle through life those extreme doctrines which gave rise to the against ever-recurring failure. Two of the '48 Young Ireland school. M'Gee soon became men, however, are conspicuous exceptions to involved in the political movements, and the darker fate of their companions, for, in figured as one of the leaders of the revoluother countries, and amid happier surround- tionary party, being elected secretary of the ings, they attained to the high political posi- Confederation. He was imprisoned for a short tion for which their talents fitted them; we time in consequence of a violent speech which mean, M‘Gee and Duffy. he made in county Wicklow.
Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee was born on April 13, 1825. His ancestors on both the paternal and maternal sides were remarkable for their devotion to the national cause. His father was in the coast-guard service. When he was eight, young M'Gee was removed to Wexford, where he lost his mother-a gifted woman, well versed in Irish literature, and the first inspirer in her son of the sentiments which formed the basis of his character. When but seventeen he went to America, on a visit to an aunt in Providence, Rhode Island. The advent of the anniversary of American independence gave the lad an opportunity of displaying his great oratorical powers. His speech on the then absorbing subject of repeal proved highly successful, and in consequence he was offered employment on the Boston Pilot, which he accepted. Two years after the beginning of this connection he was advanced to the post of editor, an important position for one just nineteen years old. This, however, was not his only triumph; the fame of his speeches crossed the Atlantic, and, attracting the attention of O'Connell, were characterized by him as the inspired utterances of a young exiled Irish boy in America."
When the insurrection broke out he was travelling in Scotland, whither he had been sent on a mission to arouse his fellow-countrymen. Although a price was set upon his head, he could not resist the desire to see his wife, to whom he had just been married, and, protected by Dr. Maguire, the Roman Catholic Bishop of Derry, he paid her a visit, afterwards escaping in the disguise of a priest to America. He started in New York a paper called the Nation. His articles therein, being strongly condemnatory of the action of the Roman Catholic priesthood during 1848, brought him into collision with that body. He afterwards went to Boston, where he established the American Celt.
As time went on his views underwent great modification, and he regretted the articles which led him to wield his pen in controversy with Bishop Hughes of the diocese of New York. He changed his place of residence several times, and finally, in 1858, left the United States to settle down in Canada. He had not been long resident in Montreal when he was elected to the Canadian parliament, in the debates of which assembly he soon distinguished himself. In 1862 he was rewarded by