Speech delivered in the Music Hall, July 7th, 1847, against the solicitation and acceptance of places, salaries, etc., from the English Government.

I have the honour, sir, to second the resolution proposed by Mr. O’Gorman. The advice to which it refers, and which this meeting is called upon to sanction, has been censured. I am prepared to defend it; and, I trust, this meeting will have reason to declare that it is wise, expedient, just. Reviewing the political movements that have taken place in Ireland for some years past, it seems to me, sir, that in this country those principles of public virtue have been systematically decried which give to a people their truest dignity and their surest strength. At different times, in other countries, when the people found it necessary to recover or augment their rights, we have seen the finest attributes of the heart and mind called forth, and society present the most brilliant instances of morality and heroism which mankind could furnish. In such countries the progress of liberty has been the progress of virtue.

Thus has the history of freedom become the second gospel of humanity—an inspiration to those who suffer—an instruction to those who struggle. True it is, there have been faults, there have been errors, there have been crimes in the revolutions to which I now advert, which fling a shadow across the epitaph of many an honoured grave. But, high above these errors and these crimes, ascends the genius and the virtue of these revolutions—pure, brilliant, and imperishable. Let us consult the star. If we read not the destiny of our country in its glory, in its purity we read the virtues that qualify for freedom, and ennoble the citizen even in his chains.

We read that truth, generosity, self-sacrifice, have been the virtues of the true patriot, and the strongest weapons of his success. It has not been so in Ireland for many years. Truth has been frittered away by expediency—generosity has been supplanted by selfishness—self-sacrifice has been lampooned as an ancient folly, which, in these less classic, but more philosophic times, it would be downright lunacy to imitate. But what is the character of our cause? It is wise, generous, and heroic. Wise, for the necessities and interests of our country dictate it. Generous, for it includes the rights of all—the rights of the democracy, the priesthood, the nobility. Heroic, for it inspires the loftiest ambition—suggesting schemes the boldest that the courage of a nation could attempt—the grandest that the ability of a nation could accomplish. The genius of Ireland has been its apostle—the chivalry of Ireland has been its champion. Triumphant in the brightest period of our history—encircled with the dazzling memories of an Irish senate, an Irish commerce, an Irish army—it is the noblest cause, sir, in which an Irish citizen could have the ambition to serve, or the heroism to suffer. Forty-seven years have passed by since that cause was sold for place and pension, and in the very hall where Henry Grattan impeached the corruption of the minister, and the perfidy of the placeman, we hear this day the clank of gold, which bids us still remember the base bargain that was ratified within its walls. Let it clank and glitter still! It will be a warning to the people.

It will remind them of the vice that led to vassalage, and which—still prevailing, still greedy, still rapacious—degrades the character of the country, effeminates its power, and repels its liberty. Not by the perpetuation of this vice, but by its utter extinction, will the national cause—the cause of Swift, of Charlemont, and of Grattan—advance and triumph. This doctrine, we are told, is exceedingly erroneous. To Repeal the Union, it is essential that Repealers should take places—that is the correct doctrine! To give the minister a decisive stroke, it is expedient to equip the patriot hand with gold! Strenuously oppose the minister, you must, first of all, beg of the minister, then be his very humble servant, and, if possible, conclude with being his much obliged servant! The financial statement between the two countries cannot be properly made out until some Repeal accountant has had a friendly intercourse with the Treasury, and a propitious acquaintance with the Mint! Absenteeism has been enormously increased by the Union, and, therefore, it is that our peaceful Repealer procures a colonial appointment, and, exemplifying in his person all the evils of the system, administers British law, beyond the seas, upon strictly Repeal principles! Impoverished by the Union—beggared by the Union—driven to the last extremity of destitution by the Union—it is advisable that we should prove all this to the minister and the parliament with our pockets full of salaries, and our family circumstances in full bloom! Denouncing the rapacity of England, we are to share her spoils. Impeaching the minister, we are to become his hirelings. Claiming independence, shouting for independence, foaming for independence, we are to crawl, betimes, to the Castle, and there crave the luxuries and the shackles of the slave. Thus we are told to act! Thus we are implored to agitate!

This is the great, peaceful, moral, and constitutional doctrine! This, the true way to make us the noblest people on the face of the globe, and restore Ireland to her place amongst the nations of the earth! Mean, venal, and destructive doctrine! teaching the tongue to cool and compliment, that has burned and denounced. Mean, venal and destructive doctrine! teaching the people, on their march to freedom, to kneel and dance before the golden idol in the desert. Mean, venal, and destructive doctrine! teaching whining, teaching flattery, teaching falsehood. Scout it, spurn it, fling it back to the Castle from whence it came—there let it lie amongst the treasured instructions of tyranny, and the precious revelations of treason!

Sir, we oppose Mr. John O’Connell because he is the advocate of this system. We oppose him, because he has positively declared that he will solicit places from the English government for his friends. We oppose him, because we conscientiously believe that he sustains a system which enervates the national strength, and therefore imperils the national cause. This we sincerely believe, and experience justifies the belief. Look back to the year 1833—note the conspicuous Repealers of that year. Mark down those amongst them who took Place after the memorable debate in April, ’34. Run through the newspapers of the last ten or thirteen years, and tell me, in what political position do you detect these priceless patriots? In the chair of Conciliation Hall—in the committee box—in the reserved seats for strangers—on Tara, with the gallant peasantry of Kildare and Meath—on the Green of Donnybrook, with the bannered and battalioned trades of Dublin—in the Rotunda, on the 30th of May, 1845, where citizenship received the honours of monarchy, and was invested with more than its legitimate authority? Why, sir, you might as well inquire if these gentlemen had left a card in the moon, or had been at a picnic in the bowels of Vesuvius. The porter outside the Chief Secretary’s in the Upper Castle Yard, will tell you where they have been. The butlers in the Viceregal Lodge will tell you where they have been. The policeman on the beat at Chesham Place will tell you where they have been. The coiners in the Mint will tell you where they have been. The clerks of the Board of Trade may let you know something concerning their mercantile anxieties. I hold in my hand a book, entitled ‘The Voice of the Nation.’ I beg leave to read the following extract from it:

‘When the last agony of the Whigs was approaching, great was the desire to conciliate and make friends. . . . Notice had been taken at the Castle of the immense number of applications pressing in from those who, throughout various localities in Ireland, had been ‘leaders of the people’ in former agitations. These applications were carefully registered and noted; and when the list was found to contain the names of a large majority of such persons, the ‘declaration’ was made as a proclamation and warning to them, and made with only too shameful success. Nearly all those leaders were silenced. They did, indeed,

‘Fall down,
And foul corruption triumphed over them!’

Corruption, that other arm of England, whenever she seeks to strike down the rising liberties of Ireland! Force, when we give her the excuse for using it! Corruption, when she cannot provoke us to give her that excuse!’

Who wrote this? A jealous and embittered Conservative? A vehement and vicious revolutionist? A discarded Orangeman? A flippant and sarcastic infidel? A Chartist Repealer, gentlemen? No—it was the honourable member for Kilkenny—he who, in the very death-chamber of his father, snatches at the vacant crown, and strives to balance in his little hand the massive sceptre which the colossal king alone could wield! Out of his own mouth do we condemn the apologist of place-begging. We arm ourselves with its written sentence against corruption, and with that sentence we give him battle on the hustings.

Sir, we have seen the result of this system in the first agitation for Repeal, and, whatever it may cost, we shall oppose it in the second. Sanction this system, and you set the seeds of venality in that body, which, to be formidable, must be exempt from all impurities. Sanction this system, and you entice men to the national lists, who, but for the golden apples scattered along the course, would never join you in the race to freedom. Thus it is that gentlemen will appear upon the hustings as Repeal candidates, who do not in truth ambition the independence of the country, but avail themselves of the cry to extort from the minister a compensation for their presumed apostacy. Lamartine, in his history of the Girondists, has said of Danton that ‘he merely threatened the court to make the court desirous of buying him—that he only opened his mouth to have it stuffed with gold.’

Sir, there have been, there are, and there will be, hundreds of Repealers to whom this description will precisely apply, and, if we do not utterly break up the system that produces them, we will propagate the contaminating race, until the whole manhood of the country has become diseased and powerless. And, sir, with God’s good blessing, whilst we have nerve and voice, we will urge this war against corruption, and the people will back us, I am confident. They must be heartily sick of the system that has exacted so many sacrifices from them, whilst it has contributed exclusively to the benefit of their leaders. Cork has done its duty in this respect. The citizens of the southern capital have met, and they declare that this venality shall cease. I trust sincerely, that the example will be followed, and that the pledge, which was exacted in Cork, will be exacted in Limerick, in Mayo, in Dundalk, in Kilkenny, in Dungarvan, in every borough, and in every county, where a Repeal candidate presents himself. As to Waterford, my father is one of the Repeal candidates for that city.

Now, proud as I would be to see my father represent his native city—proud as I would be to share with him the fatigue and the vexation of the contest—proud as I would be to see him triumph over the ministerialist who at present represents that city—proud as I would be to stand by him on the hustings when the people hailed him as the successful opponent of an insolent imperialism—proud as, I know, I would then feel with the thought that I had done my utmost to level the Whig power at the feet of my fellow-citizen—yet I do sincerely tell you that if he does not subscribe to the pledges of the Confederation—though I know he hates Whiggery from his heart—though I know that he would scorn to ask the slightest favour of any faction—yet I will feel bound in conscience not to vote for him.

But, sir, we are told, that soliciting places for others is quite a different thing from the representative soliciting place or pension for himself. I admit there is a difference. In my mind, however, the difference consists in the latter being the more injurious and discreditable case. For, in the former case, the representative gets his place, or whatever else it may be, and we are sure to have done with him. Like the great Athenian, he is seized with an excessive hoarseness the moment he grasps the cup of Herpalus, and, owing to the bandage round his neck, cannot possibly harangue against the Macedonian! But, in the former case, the representative remains amongst us—day after day multiplying his obligations to the government by a series of golden links—day after day stimulating amongst the people a gross appetite for the dregs and droppings of a foreign court, when he should expand their ambition, and bid them seek in the prosperity of their country, and in that alone, the purest and most unfailing source of private happiness.

Sir, once for all, we must have an end of this money-making in the public forum. The pursuit of liberty must cease to be a traffic. Let it resume amongst us its ancient glory—let it be with us a passionate heroism. Fear not dissension. Dissension is good where truth is to be saved. Repeal does not triumph, I contend, where the repeal principles of Conciliation Hall prevail. Repeal does not incur defeat where these principles are swamped by Whiggery or Conservatism. In the former case it is Whiggery, masked and muffled, that succeeds—in the latter it is Whiggery, masked and muffled, that is beaten. Disdaining, then, the calumnies of the public writer, and the invectives of the public orator; however bitter society may sneer; however coarsely a section of the multitude may curse; assert this righteous principle. Rescue the cause of Ireland from the profanation of those who beg, and the control of those who bribe. Ennoble the strife for liberty, and be it here, as it has been in other countries, a gallant sacrifice—not a vulgar game. Conform to one precept of the English parliament—depend upon your own resources.

Demanding independence, be thoroughly independent. Be as independent of this Russell, the English minister, as of Metternich of Vienna, or Guizot of Paris. Cherish in its full integrity this fine virtue, without which there will be no true liberty amongst you, whatever be your institutions. Bereft of it, the heart of the nation will be cold, and cramped, and sordid. Bereft of it, the arts will have no enduring impulse, and commerce no invigorating soul. Bereft of it, society degenerates, and the mean, the frivolous, and the vicious triumph. The idler, the miser, and the coward, may laugh at these sentiments. The worms of the Castle, I know, would eat them from the hearts of the young, the generous, and the gifted. The old champions of faction—in whose withered souls all that is pure and generous in our nature has rotted out—may drive their poisoned pens, and ply their tainted tongues, in their profane crusade against them. Then, too, may come the dull philosopher of the age to rebuke our folly, our want of sense, our indiscretion; and proclaim that patriotism, a wild and glittering passion, has died out—that it could not coincide with civilization, the steam-engine, and free trade. It is false! The virtue that gave to Paganism its dazzling lustre—to barbarism its redeeming trait—to Christianity its heroic form, is not dead. It still lives to preserve, to console, to sanctify humanity. It has its altar in every clime—its worship and festivities. On the heathered hills of Scotland, the sword of Wallace is yet a bright tradition. The genius of France, in the brilliant literature of the day, pays its enthusiastic homage to the piety and heroism of the young maid of Orleans. In her new senate hall, England bids her sculptor place, among the effigies of her greatest sons, the images of her Hampden and her Russell. In the gay and graceful capital of Belgium, the daring hand of Geefs has reared a monument, full of glorious meaning, to the three hundred martyrs of the revolution. By the soft, blue waters of Lake Lucerne stands the chapel of William Tell. On the anniversary of his revolt and victory, across those waters, as they glitter in the July sun, skim the light boats of the allied cantons. From the prows hang the banners of the republic, and as they near the sacred spot, the daughters of Lucerne chant the hymns of their old, poetic land. Then bursts forth the glad Te Deum, and heaven hears again the voice of that wild chivalry of the mountains which, five centuries since, pierced the white eagle of Vienna, and flung it bleeding on the rocks of Uri. At Innsbruck, in the black side of the old cathedral, the peasant of the Tyrol kneels before the statue of Andreas Hofer. In the defiles and valleys of the Tyrol, who forgets the day on which he fell within the walls of Mantua? It is a festive day all through his quiet, noble land. In that old cathedral his inspiring memory is recalled amid the pageantries of the altar—his image appears in every house—his victories and virtues are proclaimed in the songs of the people—and when the sun goes down, a chain of fires—in the deep, red light of which the eagle spreads his wings and holds his giddy revelry—proclaim the glory of the chief, whose blood has made his native land a sainted spot in Europe.

Sir, shall we not join in this glorious worship, and here in this Island—anointed by the blood of many a good and gallant man—shall we not have the faith, the duties, the festivities of patriotism? You discard the weapons of these heroic men—do not discard their virtues. Elevate the national character, and serve the national cause with generous hearts and stainless hands. You have pledged yourselves to strive in this Confederation for the independence of your country, within the limits of the Constitution. Keep within the Constitution, but do not compromise the virtue of the state. Confront corruption wherever it appears—scourge it from the hustings—scourge it from the public forum—and whilst proceeding with the noble task to which you have vowed your lives and fortunes, let this proud thought enrapture and invigorate your hearts, that in seeking the independence of your country you have preserved its virtue from the seductions of a powerful minister and the infidelity of bad citizens.