THE "WEARING OF THE GREEN,"

OR

THE PROSECUTED FUNERAL PROCESSION.

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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.

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THE PROSECUTED FUNERAL PROCESSION.

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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:—

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:—

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

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:—

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.

At the conclusion of his address, Mr. Martin, accompanied by a large body of the processionists, proceeded to the cemetery, where Mr. Martin visited the grave of Terence Bellew M'Manus. The crowds walked around the grave as a mark of respect for the memory of M'Manus. Mr. Martin left the cemetery soon after, end went to his carriage; the people gathered about him and thanked him, and cheered him loudly. The vast assemblage dispersed in the most orderly and peaceful manner, and returned to their homes. They had suffered much from the severity of the day, but they exhibited to the end the most creditable endurance and patience. In the course of an hour the roads were cleared and the city soon resumed its wonted quiet aspect.[Footnote: In consequence of some vile misstatements in the government press, which represented the crowd to have not only behaved recklessly, but to have done considerable damaged to the graves, tombs, shrubs, and fences in the cemetery, Mr. Coyle, secretary to the Cemetery Board, published in the Freeman an official contradiction, stating that not one sixpence worth of damage had been done. It is furthermore worthy of note, that at the city police offices next morning not one case arising out of the procession was before the magistrates, and the charges for drunkenness were one-fourth below the average on Mondays!]

Of the numbers in the procession "An Eye-witness," writing in the Freeman, says:—