The most important physical feature was not, however, the respectable dress, the manly bearing, the order, discipline, and solemnity of the men, but the large bodies of ladies who, in rich and costly attire, marched the whole length of the long route, often ankle deep in mud, utterly regardles of the incessant down-pour of rain which deluged their silks and satins, and melted the mourning crape till it seemed incorporated with the very substance of the velvet mantles or rich shawls in which so many of the fair processionists were enveloped. In vain did well-gloved hands hold thousands of green parasols and umbrellas over their heads as they walked four and five deep through the leading thoroughfares yesterday. The bonnets with their 'green and crape' were alone defensible, velvets and Paisleys, silks and satins, met one common fate—thorough saturation. Yet all this and more was borne without a murmur. These ladies, and there were many hundreds of them, mingled with thousands in less rich attire, went out to cooperate with their fathers, brothers, and sweethearts in honouring three men who died upon the ignominious gallows, and they never flinched before the torrents, or swerved for an instant from the ranks. There must be some deep and powerful influence underlying this movement that could induce thousands of matrons and girls of from eighteen to two and-twenty, full of the blushing modesty that distinguishes Irishwomen, to lay aside their retiring characteristics and march to the sound of martial music through every thoroughfare in the metropolis of this country decked in green and crape.
The Dublin correspondent of the Tipperary Free Press referred to the demonstration as follows:—
Arrived in Sackville-street we were obliged to leave our cab and endeavour, on foot, to force a way to our destination. This magnificent street was crowded to repletion, and the approaches to Beresford-place were 'black with people.' It was found necessary, owing to the overwhelming numbers that assembled, to start the procession before the hour named for its setting forth, and so it was commenced in wonderful order, considering the masses that had to be welded into shape. Marshals on foot and on horseback proceeded by the side of those in rank and file, and they certainly wore successful in preserving regularity of procedure. Mourning coaches and cabs followed, and after each was a procession of women, at least a thousand in number. Young and old were there—all decked in some shape or other with green; many green dresses—some had green feathers in their hats, but all had green ribbons prominently displayed. The girls bore all the disagreeability of the long route with wonderful endurance; it was bitterly cold—a sleety rain fell during the entire day, and the roads were almost ankle deep in mud—yet when they passed me on the return route they were apparently as unwearied as when I saw them hours before. As the procession trooped by—thousand after thousand—there was not a drunken man to be seen—all were calm and orderly, and if they were, as many of them were—soaked through—wet to the skin—they endured the discomfiture resolutely. The numbers in the procession have been variously estimated, but in my opinion there could not have been less than 50,000. But the demonstration was not confined to the processionists alone; they walked through living walls, for along the entire route a mass of people lined the way, the great majority of whom wore some emblem of mourning, and every window of every house was thronged with ladies and children, nearly all of whom were decorated. All semblance of authority was withdrawn from sight, but every preparation had been made under the personal direction of Lord Strathnairn, the commander-in-chief, for the instant intervention of the military, had any disturbances taken place. The troops were confined to barracks since Saturday evening; they were kept in readiness to march at a moment's notice; the horses of the cavalry were saddled all day long, and those of the artillery were in harness. A battery of guns was in the rere yard of the Four Courts, and mounted orderlies were stationed at arranged points so as to convey orders to the different barracks as speedily as possible. But, thanks to Providence, all passed off quietly; the people seemed to feel the responsibility of their position, and accordingly not even an angry word was to be heard throughout the vast assemblage that for hours surged through the highways of the city.
The Ulster Observer, in the course of a beautiful and sympathetic article, touched on the great theme as follows:—
The main incidents of the singular and impressive event are worthy of reflection. On a cold December morning, wet and dreary as any morning in December might be, vast crowds assembled in the heart of Dublin to follow to consecrated ground the empty hearses which bore the names of the Irishmen whom England doomed to the gallows as murderers. The air was piercingly chill, the rain poured down in torrents, the streets were almost impassable from the accumulated pools of mingled water and mud, yet 80,000 people braved the inclemency of the weather, and unfalteringly carried out the programme so fervently adopted. Amongst the vast multitude there were not only stalwart men, capable of facing the difficulties of the day, but old men, who struggled through and defied them; and, strangest of all, 'young ladies, clothed in silk and velvet,' and women with tender children by their sides, all of whom continued to the last to form a part of the cortege, although the distance over which it passed must have taxed the strongest physical energy. What a unanimity of feeling, or rather what a naturalness of sentiment does not this wonderful demonstration exhibit? It seems as if the 'God save Ireland' of the humble successors of Emmet awoke in even the breast of infancy the thrill which must have vibrated sternly and strongly in the heart of manhood. Without exalting into classical grandeur the simple and affectionate devotion of a simple and unsophisticated people, we might compare this spectacle to that which ancient Rome witnessed, when the ashes of Germanicus were borne in solemn state within her portals. There were there the attendant crowd of female mourners, and the bowed heads and sorrowing hearts of strong men. If the Irish throngs had no hero to lament, who sustained their glory in the field, and gained for them fresh laurels of victory, theirs was at least a more disinterested tribute of grief, since it was paid to the unpretending merit which laid down, life with the simple prayer of 'God save Ireland!' Amidst all the numerous thousands who proceeded to Glasnevin, there was not, probably, one who would have sympathised with any criminal offence, much less with the hideous one of murder. And yet these thousands honoured and revered the memory of the men condemned in England as assassins, and ignominiously buried in felons' graves.
This mighty demonstration—at once so unique, so solemn, so impressive, so portentous—was an event which the rulers of Ireland felt to be of critical importance. Following upon the Requiem Masses and the other processions, it amounted to a great public verdict which changed beyond all resistance the moral character of the Manchester trial and execution. If the procession could only have been called a "Fenian" demonstration, then indeed the government might hope to detract from its significance and importance. The sympathy of "co-conspirators" with fallen companions could not well be claimed as an index of general public opinion. But here was a demonstration notoriously apart from Fenianism, and it showed that a moral, a peaceable, a virtuous, a religious people, moved by the most virtuous and religious instincts, felt themselves coerced to execrate as a cowardly and revolting crime the act of state policy consummated on the Manchester gibbet. In fine, the country was up in moral revolt against a deed which the perpetrators themselves already felt to be of evil character, and one which they fain would blot for ever from public recollection.
What was to be done? For the next ensuing Sunday similar demonstrations were announced in Killarney, Kilkenny, Drogheda, Ennis, Clonmel, Queenstown, Youghal, and Fermoy—the preparations in the first named town being under the direction of, and the procession about to be led by, a member of parliament, one of the most distinguished and influential of the Irish popular representatives—The O'Donoghue. What was to be done? Obviously, as the men had been hanged, there could be no halting halfway now. Having gone so far, the government seemed to feel that it must need go the whole way, and choke off, at all hazards, these inconvenient, these damnatory public protests. No man must be allowed to speak the Unutterable Words, which, like the handwriting on the wall in the banquetting hall of Belshazzar, seemed ever to be appearing before the affrighted consciences of Ireland's rulers. Be it right or be it wrong, be it justice or be it murder, the act must now be upheld—in fact, must not be alluded to. There must be silence by law, on what had been done beneath the Manchester gallows-tree.
But here there presented itself a difficulty. Before the government had any idea that the public revulsion would become so alarmingly extensive, the responsible ministers of the crown, specifically interrogated on the point, had, as we have seen, declared the funeral processions not to be illegal, and how, now, could the government interpose to prevent them? It certainly was a difficulty which there was no way of surmounting save by a proceeding which in any country constitutionally governed would cost its chief authors their lives on impeachment. The government, notwithstanding the words of its own responsible chiefs—on the faith of which the Dublin procession was held, and numerous others were announced—decided to treat as illegal the proceedings they had but a week before declared to be not illegal; decided to prosecute the processionists who had acted on the government declarations; and decided to prevent, by sabre and cannon—by slaughter if necessary—the further processions announced in Killarney, Clonmel, Kilkenny, and elsewhere!
On the evening of Thursday, the 12th December, Dublin city was flung into the most intense excitement by the issue of the following Government Proclamation:—