July 15th, 1847.
[The Confederation, defying the threats of the O’Connellite mob in Dublin, continued to hold its usual public meetings, after the cry was raised that ‘the Young Irelanders had killed O’Connell.’ On the night of July 15th, Meagher presided at a public meeting of the Confederation in the Music Hall, Abbey Street, which was surrounded by a furious rabble. After the conclusion of the meeting, Meagher, Mitchel, O’Gorman and the other Young Ireland leaders were attacked in Abbey Street and O’Connell Street by the mob, one member of which attempted to stab Meagher. The Confederates, thereafter organised a body of 400 of their members, chiefly skilled artisans and clerks, who acted as a bodyguard for the Young Ireland leaders on their way to and from the public meetings of the Confederation and in a few weeks the attempt to suppress freedom of speech in Dublin was sternly ended.]
Gentlemen, I sincerely thank you for the honour you have now conferred upon me. At any time I would esteem it an enviable privilege to occupy the chair of the Irish Confederation. On the present occasion I consider it a very eminent distinction. We have met here this night for a special reason. We have met here this night to maintain the privileges of the Citizen against the despotism of the Mob. The right to meet in public council we are prepared to vindicate in defiance of every threat—in the teeth of every peril. That right we would not surrender to the minister though he came to demand it commissioned by the Parliament and backed by the army. Neither shall we surrender it to the rabble, though they come to extort it with their blows and steep it in our blood.
This time last year the secession took place. Since then we have stood erect in spite of the most vicious enmity. Misrepresentations were tried and they have failed. Indictments for high treason were tried and they have failed. Charges of infidelity were tried and they have done us very little harm. Charges of intriguing with the Castle were placarded about the town, and they have served to amuse the public, to sell a paper—and that is all. In private as in public the venal tongue for the last twelve months has been busy at its task of defamation. Every effort that malice could suggest, that depravity could patronise, that penury could be bribed to perfect, has been made to crush us beneath the feet of the people amongst whom we had dared to preach the true principles of freedom. Upheld by a sense of right, strengthened by the sympathies of the upright and intelligent portion of the community, we battled through the winter and maintained the position we thought it our duty to assume. But malice had not done its utmost, it appears. There was yet another arrow in the quiver, and that should take the lives of those whom falsehood and invective had not struck down.
Gentlemen, the attempt has been made to put us down by brute force—it was made on the last night of meeting, and because it was made we are here this night. Let the coarse enemies of Conciliation Hall renew the attempt. Against them, to the death, we shall maintain the right of Citizens to meet, wherever and whenever they think best, to consult upon the public interests. No power shall deprive us of that right whilst we have life to worship and to guard it. The sceptre shall not deprive us of that right—neither shall the bludgeon. But this is what we had just reason to expect. It has been the fate of many better men who have preceded us, and thus it will be to the end of time. The career of truth is through a crowd of perils, and freedom is not so much the gift of fortune as it is the reward of suffering. Nerved by these attacks, proceed as you have begun.
Confederates of Dublin, remember the proud title that has been conferred upon you. When you came forth in November last, two thousand strong, to make war against a policy that had debauched and diseased the political power of your country, you were styled the pioneers of Irish freedom. The intelligence of the country hailed you as such, the virtue of the country blessed you as such, the enthusiasm of the country worshipped you as such. Sustain the title and keep the van. Depend upon it, the nation will in time fall in, and the march to the old Senate house will be made along the road which it will have been your heroic achievement to have opened. It is quite true that your enrolled associates are few.
Do not conceal it—avow it manfully—your organised forces are not numerous. But each day brings a new conscript to your ranks, for the principles of the Confederation are becoming the principles of the country. You were the first to pronounce against place-begging. From this hall went forth the decree that the representatives of the people should not beg from the Government of England; that in doing so the representatives of the people impaired the character, diseased the strength, imperilled the liberty of Ireland; therefore that the representatives who become the beggars of the minister would be guilty against the country and should be declared its enemies. The provinces ratify the decree. Cork affirms that it is wise, virtuous, and essential. Limerick affirms that it is wise, virtuous, and essential. Galway affirms that it is wise, virtuous, and essential. Everywhere the people have hailed this decree—have read, have studied and have sanctioned it.
Thus it is, that whilst you have not as yet acquired the power to emancipate the country, you have inspired the virtue that prevents it from being sold. You have saved the country from being for the second time the renegade sutler of the Whig faction. You have snatched the flag that flew at Mullaghmast from the hands of those who would have delivered it to the minister, and it is owing to your virtue that it does not fly to-day beneath the Union Jack from the walls of Woburn Abbey. You did not support—you did not even tolerate this minister. You are free from the guilt of his policy—you did not leave Repeal ‘an open question’ with him, to be minced by him into scraps and instalments of ‘justice.’ This time last year this minister took office. He passed from the Opposition to the Ministerial benches and amid the cheers of the English Radicals and the greedy chatterings of the Irish Liberals, undertook to govern Ireland without the assistance of an Arms Bill.
What was then the condition of Ireland? It was poor, but it was not bankrupt. It was hungry, but it was not famished. It was worn with misery, but it was not rotten with the plague. It had its damp, dark cabins, but it had not its reeking fever-sheds. It had its acres of waste lands, but it had not its acres of graves. There were eight millions in Ireland on that day—there are now two millions of them dead. Do not these two million victims cry for vengeance? Will you tolerate the men whose policy has been more sweeping than the blast—more scathing than the lightning? Will you tolerate the men who ‘tried’ them, excused them, begged from them. Perish two millions more, if such be your tameness and debasement.
Meet these Whigs upon the hustings—meet them boldly—meet them resentfully, meet them to crush them. Show no mercy to them—they have shown no mercy to the people. Leave them to their resources as they have left you to your resources. Down with these ministers and down with their colleagues of Conciliation Hall. Whilst life is left us they shall have a foe. Not till they have beaten us to the earth and trampled on us in the public streets shall we desist. Then let them hold their jubilee. Then let them celebrate the triumph of their pure, their peaceful, their bloodless policy. Then let them enumerate the political victories they have won without the effusion of one drop of blood. Then let them point in ecstasy to their sacred banner, and with tongues that uttered words of vengeance against their fellow-citizens, let them reiterate their favourite maxim that ‘He who commits a crime gives strength to the enemy.’ Fearless of these men, continue to act as you have done—continue to be the friends of truth and enemies of corruption. Be assured of this: that they whom you have stood by so manfully—these whose youth has been no obstacle to your confidence—will stand by you to the last—proud to share the calumnies with which you are sure to be assailed—proud to share the trials it will be your destiny to endure—proud to share the dangers that may await you from within and from without—elated with the dazzling hope that burns above the ruins of the island, that having worked steadfastly, intelligently, honestly together, though the lives of some amongst us may be short, we may celebrate together the inauguration of the Irish Senate.