Speech in the Rotunda, December 2nd, 1846.
Sir, it is a righteous duty to instruct the slave, but it is a proud privilege to address the freeman. That privilege I now enjoy, I avail myself of it to vindicate my character, that I may hereafter be of service to my country. With that view my friends have come here to-night, and I trust not in vain. Here, in this splendid hall, on the first anniversary of the Richmond imprisonment, did we assemble, clad in the uniform of the Irish nation; and here, before the civic representatives of our chief cities, and the patriot members of the legislature, did we vow that we would never desist from seeking a Repeal of the Legislative Union by all peaceable, moral and constitutional means, until a parliament was restored to Ireland. That is the vow of the Rotunda. Public men have charged us with the violation of that vow. We have met here to answer the charge.
Weak, indeed, would be our efforts to serve this land, if suspicion rested on those efforts, and if the people whom we ambition to emancipate, we tutored to distrust us. Slanders unanswered become destructive. The silence of the slandered gives them force and currency, and in time they are accepted as truths because they have not been denounced as falsehoods. Submit to the slander and you fall—meet it boldly, beat it back with a strong hand and you save your character and preserve your influence. Anxious for the confidence of the country, that we may be able to act efficiently with the country—for where there is no trust there will be no co-operation—we state our opinions distinctly that the country, thinking for itself, may judge us rightly. For my part I consider myself exceedingly fortunate in being thus permitted to resume my interrupted speech. I hope we are not going to have a similar interruption here to that in Conciliation Hall.
Some say I have much to answer for. The guilt of the physical force debate has been exclusively attached to me. Mr. Lawless, for instance, at a meeting of his constituents, shortly after his election, censured me for having introduced it. What are the facts? On the 13th of July the ‘peace resolutions’ were moved by Mr. O’Connell. The same day the report on the Dungarvan Election was brought up. I spoke to that report—I did not speak to the resolutions. I merely stated that as they embodied an abstract principle of which I could not approve, I was compelled to dissent from them. They were then put from the chair and carried. The following Monday there was not the slightest controversy upon the question of the ‘forces.’ The meeting passed over quietly. I made a few observations, I recollect, to the effect that although there were some letters read that day which were most offensive to me personally, and to those with whom I had been identified, I would prove my anxiety for the cause by not replying to them as they deserved, and join my friend Mr. Mitchel in his earnest prayer that all dissensions in that Hall should from thenceforth cease. Mr. O’Neill cordially concurred in those sentiments and stated he was convinced that no member of the Association intended to advocate the insane principle of physical force. On the 23rd July, Mr. John O’Connell arrives from London for the express purpose as stated on the following Monday, the 27th, of bringing the matter to an issue. Mark this. The question that was decided by the Association on the 13th is re-opened by Mr. John O’Connell on the 27th, for the express purpose of drawing a ‘marked distinction between Young and Old Ireland.’
Sir, that line has been too deeply drawn and this meeting attests the fatal success of those who felt it to be their duty to divide. Mr. John O’Connell entered fully into the question of the ‘forces’ and provoked discussion, if he did not invite it. To justify his abhorrence of the sword as an agent of political amelioration he cited the social disorders of America, of France, of Belgium, the liberties of which countries had been won by the sword. I fully concurred in his condemnation of the sword, as an instrument unfitted to achieve the independence of Ireland. I stated this distinctly. But, recollecting that it had been destructive of despotism in other lands, I refused to join him in the sweeping condemnation he had made, and was proceeding to justify my dissent—passionately, I will admit, for who can recount the triumphs of liberty and not speak in the language of passion?—when Mr. John O’Connell declared that my sentiments imperilled the Association and that either he or I should leave that Hall. Mr. Smith O’Brien protested against this interruption as an attempt to check the legitimate expression of an opinion to which he stated, I was not merely invited, but compelled. Mr. John O’Connell persisted, usurped the authority of the Chairman, declared that my language was seditious and insisted on my not being heard.
We had no alternative but to leave the Hall. We left it—left it in the possession of those who had invoked the spirit of freedom but to assail it, who had provoked a discussion but to violate the first principle of discussion, who had driven us to the avowal of our opinions but to misrepresent and abuse those opinions. We left the Hall, sir, convinced that independent men would not any longer be permitted to remain there, and trusting to the intelligence of the country for the vindication of our conduct. We thought, too, that the Association would in time reverse the policy which, still continuing, has now arrayed against it the intellect and the integrity of the country. With this hope we refrained from the condemnation of that policy. The Nation, speaking for the seceders, adopted the language rather of conciliation than rebuke. Week after week we anxiously waited in silence for the adjustment of those differences which had shattered the national assembly and thrown it in fragments at the feet of the Whig Minister. This wise adjustment we were led to expect from the speech delivered by Mr. John O’Connell after we had been compelled to leave the Hall:
‘It is no source of joy to me that we have witnessed this departure. There cannot be a feeling of triumph—there cannot be a single pleasurable feeling in my heart at witnessing the loss to the Association of such a man as Smith O’Brien, at witnessing the departure of those excellent men from amongst us. This is not a time to speak, it is a time to weep. Let us then retire from this Hall to mourn over the loss we have sustained. Let us not think of meeting till Monday next when I hope Mr. O’Connell will be here to repair the breach that has inevitably occurred.’
Mr. O’Connell arrives in town during the week and on Monday, October 5th, instead of endeavouring to ‘repair the breach’ from his place in Conciliation Hall he arraigns us as traitors to Repeal. We are denounced as revolutionists and charged with having opposed the peace policy of the Association. How is this charge sustained? It is sustained by the language of Mr. O’Gorman, who stated, on the 13th of July in the presence of Mr. O’Connell, that ‘in order that there should be no misconception on the subject so far as he (Mr. O’Gorman) was concerned he would at once say that he was not at all an advocate for the use of physical force. As a member of the Association he was bound by its laws and regulations. One of these was, that its object was not to be attained by the use of physical force but by moral means alone.’ Is the charge sustained by the language of Mr. Mitchel who stated on the same day in the presence of Mr. O’Connell that ‘this is a legally organised and constitutional society seeking to attain its objects, as all the world knows, by peaceable means, and none other. Constitutional agitation is the very basis of it, and nobody who contemplates any other mode of bringing about the independence of the country has any right to come here or to consider himself a fit member of our Association. I believe, sir, the national legislative independence of Ireland can be won by these peaceful means if honestly, boldly and steadily carried out, and with these convictions I should certainly feel it my duty, if I knew any member who, either in this Hall or out of it, either by speaking or writing, should attempt to incite the people to arms or violence as a method of obtaining their liberty, while this Association lasts, to report that member to the committee and move his expulsion.’ Is the charge sustained by the language of Mr. Barry, who stated on the 7th June, ‘that it was perfectly plain to all that it was the determination of the Association to work out its object by means of moral force and that alone?’ Is the charge sustained by the language which I used on the 28th of July when I distinctly stated that ‘I do advocate the peaceful policy of the Association; it is the only policy we can and should adopt. If that policy be pursued with truth, with courage, with stern determination of purpose, I do firmly believe that it will succeed.’
Sir, over and over again we pledge ourselves to the peace policy of the Association and are ready to do so again if necessary. But it is in vain. We are opposed to a Whig alliance. We demand that the Association should pursue the same policy under the Whig as it did under the Conservative administration. We insist upon Repeal and not upon ‘eleven measures,’ and are therefore denounced as revolutionists. Sir, it is my sincere conviction and I believe it is the growing conviction of the country, that the leaders of the Association had determined upon driving us from Conciliation Hall, and that, had we assented to the ‘peace resolutions,’ others would have been introduced to which we could not with commonsense subscribe. For instance, they might have brought in a resolution declaring it contrary to ‘faith and morals’ to visit the Sultan and rank apostacy to smoke a chibouc. And if in opposing this resolution I had ventured to glance at the minarets of St. Sophia or the legends of the Koran, I would surely have been voted a renegade from the faith of my fathers, since for having alluded to the passes of the Tyrol and the ramparts of Antwerp I have been arraigned as a rebel. Depend upon it, if we had not been proclaimed as insurrectionists, we would have been anathematised as Mussulmen. If the object were not to drive us from the Hall I can see no other object in bringing forward those resolutions.
It became necessary, they say, to restate the fundamental rules of the Association. If this were so, why not restate them as they were originally framed? Had this been done there could have been no dissent. But an abstract principle is introduced to which we cannot conscientiously subscribe, and then confounding the new principle with the old rule, they charge us with a violation of the fundamental rule of the Association. Observe then, how the wise decrees of the Repeal Committee swell the ranks of the revolutionists. Mr. McGee writes to Mr. Ray for his card, states that he fully concurs in the principles and policy of moral force and will say nothing about physical force, as he dislikes meddling with abstract principles. Mr. Ray forthwith addresses Mr. McGee, ‘that it appears that he is not and cannot be a member of the Repeal Association.’ Mr. Haughton whose sympathies are with us, for I believe they are ever with the cause of truth, of justice, and of freedom, totally dissents from the opinions of Young Ireland upon the abstract of physical force, but disapproves of the mode adopted to repress those opinions. He has been since convicted of Young Irelandism, and ‘by order of the committee’ enrolled in the category of revolution. Three Repeal wardens of Cappoquin write to Mr. Ray on the 12th of November stating that having abandoned all hope of a reconciliation, ‘in consequence of the language used by Mr. O’Connell towards Smith O’Brien,’ they beg to resign all connection with the Association. Mr. Ray replies to these gentlemen and intimates to them the loyal delight of the Association at parting with men who unquestionably contemplate a resort to arms. ‘Masters, I charge you,’ says Dogberry to the Watchmen—‘I charge you in the prince’s name, accuse these men.’ ‘This man said, sir, that John Don, the prince’s brother, was a villain.’ ‘Prince John a villain! why, this is flat perjury, to call a prince’s brother a villain.’ ‘I’m for freedom of discussion,’ says Mr. Shea Lawlor; ‘This is physical force!’ exclaims the committee. ‘I’m for the publication of the accounts,’ intimates Mr. Martin; ‘You oppose the peace policy,’ rejoins Mr. Ray. ‘I protest against placehunting,’ writes Mr. Brady from Cork; ‘Sir, you contemplate a resort to arms,’ rejoins the Secretary from Dublin. ‘We can’t get on without a good cry,’ hints Mr. Taper to Mr. Tadpole. For a dissolution without a cry, as Mr. D’Israeli observes in the ‘Taper Philosophy,’ ‘was the world without a sun.’
Sir, I trust I shall be excused for thus trifling with the ‘peace resolutions’ and the subsequent decrees of the Association. But it is as difficult, after all, to treat these topics seriously as to describe the characters of a farce with sublimity, and yet there is true reason to be serious. Through a fatal policy the most powerful confederacy that ever yet was organised to win a nation’s freedom is broken up, its treasury exhausted, its influence blasted. Look to the national movement. Where is the disciplined nerve, the earnest integrity, the rapid enthusiasm of ‘43. Look back to that year—your sight is dazzled with the flame—survey the present, and you shiver before the cloud. What did we then behold? a zeal that was almost precipitate—a pride of country that almost swelled into presumption. What do we now deplore? a ‘peace policy’ that degenerates into indolence, a tameness that verges on debasement. Whence this relapse, whence this fall? It dates from the Hustings of Dungarvan. Where shall it cease? Here. So say we all of us here in the Rotunda—a spot ennobled by the convention of 1783, sanctified by the vow of 1845. Sir, we impeach the present policy of the Association, and we impeach it not because we have become seceders, but because we continue to be Repealers. In doing so we are accused of ingratitude to an old and illustrious benefactor. The accusation is a slander.
The Catholic Emancipator has secured our gratitude. The Leader of the Repeal Association has forfeited our allegiance. This is just, I say. Gratitude to a benefactor should never degenerate into subserviency, and it is servitude and the worst of servitudes to co-operate when convictions do not coincide. Catholic Emancipation was indeed too dearly purchased if the forfeiture of free opinion was the price. The confederates of the great emancipator we were proud to be—his vassals, never. We ambition to work for our country, but we shall not work for it in chains. The nobility of the cause suffers from the debasement of the advocate. And though he, who was once our leader, may arraign us for treachery to the country and use his influence to make that country our assailant, he shall still command our respect, while the country shall have our love—
Men and brothers! we loved this land
For its beauty, but more for its grief;
We offered the homage of heart and of hand
To it and its chosen chief.
We offered our hearts with their fiery heat,
Our hands with their youthful glow;
But never to slavishly lie at his feet
Or be spurned from your ranks as a foe.
Sir, great emergencies demand severe sacrifices, and the laws of nations, not to say the injunctions of leaders, have been disobeyed when they stood in the way of liberty. Be it yours to imitate the example of one whom the historian has immortalised and the true patriot most reveres. Two thousand years since, Pelopidas and Epaminondas stood accused for disobedience of the public orders. Pelopidas with craven soul, bowed before his accusers, confessed his guilt and hardly obtained forgiveness. Epaminondas—how brilliant, how inspiring is the contrast—exulting in the act for which he was arraigned, confronted his accusers and declared he was ready to meet his death if on his monument would be inscribed—‘He wasted Laconia, the territory of the enemy—he united the Arcadians—restored liberty to Greece—and did so against his country’s will.’ Which of these two men shall be your model. I should not inquire. I do not fear that a spirit of servile sycophancy will win you to the imitation of the former, for I know that a spirit of heroic honesty will prompt you to the emulation of the latter. Demanding the independence of your country you will act the part of independent men—insisting upon her freedom you will preserve your own. In this spirit, sir, we impeach the present policy of the Association and we impeach it because it conflicts with the policy of ‘43. We impeach that policy because it assails the liberty of the press and violates the first principles of discussion. We impeach that policy because it affiliates the Repeal Association to an English faction, and forms an alliance that must vitiate the energies of the former. The Association encourages its members to become the stipendiaries of the minister, and we oppose a license that tends to give strength to the minister, and produces weakness in the people. The servant of the minister will cease to be the confederate of the people. The hand that has once clutched the gold of the Treasury will never again be clenched against the usurpations of the minister. The glare of the Castle ball-room blinds men to the sins of the executive. The tongue that has lisped compliments at the viceregal table will be slow to utter condemnation from the tribune of Conciliation Hall.
Why, I ask, is not the minister denounced? The people starve, and the career of the minister in this country is tracked by peasants’ graves. He patronises the pampered merchant of his own splendid country—he heeds not the famished beggar of the bankrupt land. The ships of the rich London citizen, like winged demons, bear away on each swelling tide the food of the island, as if Death had chartered them to drive his ghastly trade, and yet the minister is not denounced. Is this the minister with whom we are called upon to coalesce—is this the minister in whose pay it is honourable for the Irish Nationalist to serve? Forbid it, Heaven! Better, far better, be the poorest artisan that earns his bread by honest drudgery, than the wealthiest subordinate of such a minister.
Sir, this old system must come down. Claiming public liberty, we must cultivate public virtue, and it shall be so. A new generation begins to act in Ireland—a generation pledged against all English alliances, a generation pledged to make this island a free nation and pledged to do so in the most clear, straightforward, righteous way. The events of the day invite us to proceed. Nations that had for centuries lost their freedom are breaking through their fetters, and we behold them resuming with youthful vigour their old positions. Italy! Italy awakes to a new destiny and from her sculptured sepulchre Europe hails her dazzling resurrection. The bayonet of the Austrian will no longer intimidate where once the sceptre of the Caesars swayed. In the Church of Saint John Lateran, a wiser and a holier Rienzi has appeared, and the Roman citizen blesses the new Tribune as he goes forth from the Vatican to regenerate and free. On the summit of the Aventine the Temple of Liberty shall again be reared—the laurel shall replace the ivy on the fragments of the Forum, and whilst the scholar rears his genius beneath the shadow of its ancient glories, the future statesmen of this our island will learn from the mitred ruler the purest lessons of liberality—the wisest measures of reform.
Sir, Italy has ceased to be the mere guard-house of the Austrian trooper—Ireland must cease to be the fee-farm of the English jobber.
‘To God and man we made oath, that we would never cease to strive until an Irish nation stood supreme upon this island.’
These are the solemn words of one whose noble heart is mouldering beneath the shroud in the cemetery of Mount Jerome, but the cold vault has not imprisoned his passionate spirit, nor shall the glorious mission which he preached to the young men of Ireland be unfulfilled by us. His genius breathes and burns beyond the grave, and as it inspires the present so shall it illuminate the future. Like him through good report and ill, we will work on to win the freedom and exalt the character of our country; and though that country may be taught to curse us for a day—though slander be awhile the penalty which our integrity may incur, and though the aged hand that ought to beckon us to advance may strive to beat us back, we shall still press on—faithful, come what may, to the vow we plighted in this Hall. Death alone shall crush us—despotism, be it foreign or domestic, shall not.