And the Father of the Fatherless, even on the instant, raised up a friend for them—sent an angel missioner of blessed comfort to give poor Larkin, even on the brink of the grave, assurance that no pang of poverty should ever wound those little ones thus awfully bereaved. One day the confessor met the prisoners with beaming face, holding in his hand a letter. It was from the Dowager Marchioness of Queensbury, to the condemned Irishmen in Salford gaol, and ran as follows:—
MY DEAR FRIENDS—
It may be that those few lines may minister some consolation to you on your approaching departure from this world. I send you by the hands of a faithful messenger some help for your wife, or wives, and children, in their approaching irreparable loss, and with the assurance that so long as I live they shall be cared for to the utmost of my power.
Mr. M'Donnell, the bearer of this for me, will bring me their address, and the address of the priest who attends you.
It will also be a comfort for your precious souls, to know that we remember you here at the altar of God. where the daily remembrance of that all-glorious sacrifice on Calvary, for you all, is not neglected.
We have daily Mass for you here; and if it be so that it please the good God to permit you thus to be called to Himself on Saturday morning, the precious body and blood of our Lord and Saviour and our Friend will be presented for you before God, at eight o'clock, on that day—that blood so precious, that cleanses from all sin. May your last words and thoughts be Jesus. Rest on Him, who is faithful, and willing and all-powerful to save. Rest on Him, and on His sacrifice on that Cross for you, instead of you, and hear Him say, "To-day thou shalt be with me in Paradise." Yet will we remember your souls constantly at the altar of God, after your departure, as well as those whom you leave in life.
Farewell! and may Jesus Christ, the Saviour of sinners, save us all, and give you His last blessing upon earth, and an eternal continuance of it in heaven.
CAROLINE QUEENSBURY.
This letter enclosed £100. On hearing it read, poor Larkin burst into tears; the other prisoners also were deeply affected. Surely, never was act more noble! Never was woman's sex more exalted—never was woman's mission more beautifully exemplified, than by this glorious act of bravery, tenderness, and generosity.
Two days before the fatal 23rd, the calm resignation which the condemned by this time enjoyed was once more cruelly disturbed, and almost destroyed. Once again the government came to fill their hearts with the torturing hope, if not, indeed, the strong conviction, that after all, even though it should be at the foot of the gallows, they would one and all be reprieved. Another man of the five included in the vitiated verdict was reprieved—Shore was to have his sentence commuted.
This second reprieve was the most refined and subtle torture to men who had made up their minds for the worst, and who, by God's strengthening gracs, had already become, as it were, dead to the world. It rendered the execution of the remaining men almost an impossibility. Maguire notoriously was innocent even of complicity in the rescue—the verdict of the sworn jury, concurred in by the "learned judge," to the contrary notwithstanding. But Shore was avowedly a full participator in the rescue. He was no more, no less, guilty than Allen, Larkin, O'Brien. In the dock he proudly gloried in the fact. What wonder if the hapless three, as yet unrespited, found the wild hope of life surging irresistibly through heart and brain!
To the eternal honour of the artisans of London be it told, they signalized themselves in this crisis by a humanity, a generosity, that will not soon be forgotten by Irishmen. At several crowded meetings they adopted memorials to the government, praying for the respite of the condemned Irishmen—or rather, protesting against their contemplated execution. These memorials were pressed with a devoted zeal that showed how deeply the honest hearts of English working-men were stirred; but the newspaper press—the "high class" press especially—the enlightened "public instructors"—howled at, reviled, and decried these demonstrations of humanity. The Queen's officials treated the petitions and petitioners with corresponding contempt; and an endeavour to approach the Sovereign herself, then at Windsor; resulted in the contumelious rejection from the palace gate of the petitioners, who were mobbed and hooted by the tradesmen and flunkeys of the royal household!
In Ireland, however, as might be supposed, the respite of Shore was accepted as settling the question: there would be no execution. On the 21st of November men heard, indeed, that troops were being poured into Manchester, that the streets were being barricaded, that the public buildings were strongly guarded, and that special constables were being sworn in by thousands. All this was laughed at as absurd parade. Ready as were Irishmen to credit England with revengeful severity, there was, in their opinion, nevertheless, a limit even to that. To hang Allen, O'Brien, and Larkin now, on the broken-down verdict, would, it was judged, be a measure of outrage which even the fiercest hater of England would frankly declare too great for her.
A few there were, however, who did not view the situation thus. They read in the respite of Shore, fear; and they gloomily reflected that justice or magnanimity towards the weak seldom characterizes those who exhibit cowardice towards the strong. Shore was an American. By this simple sentence a flood of light is thrown on the fact of respiting him alone amongst the four men admittedly concerned in the rescue. Shore was an American. He had a country to avenge him if legally slaughtered on a vitiated verdict. To hang him was dangerous; but as for Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien, they had no country (in the same sense) to avenge them. America was strong, but Ireland was weak. If it was deemed dangerous to sport with the life of the American, it was deemed safe to be brutal and merciless towards the Irishmen. On these the full arrear of British vengeance might be glutted.
But there were not many to discern, in the first flush of its proclamation, this sinister aspect of Shore's respite. The news reached Ireland on Friday, 22nd November, and was, as we have already said, generally deemed conclusive evidence that the next day would bring like news in reference to Allen, Larkin, and O'Brien.
Early next morning—Saturday, 23rd November, 1867—men poured into the cities and towns of Ireland reached by telegraphic communication, to learn "the news from Manchester." Language literally fails to convey an idea of the horror—the stupefaction—that ensued when that news was read:—