The Nation had been regarded as rather an outspoken journal, and not particularly well affected to the rulers of the country. But it was mildness, and gentleness, and loyalty itself compared to the new-comer in the field of journalism. The sudden uprising of a most portentous comet sweeping close to this planet of ours could hardly create more unfeigned astonishment in the minds of people in general than did the appearance of this wonderful newspaper, brimful of open and avowed sedition, crammed with incitements to insurrection, and with diligently prepared instructions for the destruction of her Majesty's troops, barracks, stores, and magazines. Men rubbed their eyes, as they read its articles and correspondence, scarcely believing that any man in his sober senses would venture, in any part of the Queen's dominions, to put such things in print. But there were the articles and the letters, nevertheless, on fair paper and in good type, published in a duly registered newspaper bearing the impressed stamp of the Customs—a sign to all men that the proprietor was bound in heavy sureties to the government against the publication of "libel, blasphemy, or sedition"!—couched, moreover, in a style of language possessing such grace and force, such delicacy of finish, and yet such marvellous strength, rich with so much of quiet humour, and bristling with such rasping sarcasm and penetrating invective, that they were read as an intellectual luxury even by men who regarded as utterly wild and wicked the sentiments they conveyed. The first editorial utterance in this journal consisted of a letter from Mr. Mitchel to the Viceroy, in which that functionary was addressed as "The Right Hon. the Earl of Clarendon, Englishman, calling himself her Majesty's Lord Lieutenant-General and General Governor of Ireland." The purport of the document was to declare, above board, the aims and objects of the United Irishman, a journal with which, wrote Mr. Mitchel, "your lordship and your lordship's masters and servants are to have more to do than may be agreeable either to you or me." That that purpose was to resume the struggle which had been waged by Tone and Emmet, or, as Mr. Mitchel put it, "the Holy War, to sweep this island clear of the English name and nation." "We differ," he said, "from the illustrious conspirators of '98, not in principle—no, not an iota—but, as I shall presently show you, materially as to the mode of action." And the difference was to consist in this—that whereas the revolutionary organization in Ninety-Eight was a secret one, which was ruined by spies and informers, that of Forty-Eight was to be an open one, concerning which informers could tell nothing that its promoters would not willingly proclaim from the house-tops. "If you desire," he wrote, "to have a Castle detective employed about the United Irishman office in Trinity-street, I shall make no objection, provided the man be sober and honest. If Sir George Grey or Sir William Somerville would like to read our correspondence, we make him welcome for the present—only let the letters be forwarded without losing a post." Of the fact that he would speedily be called to account for his conduct in one of her Majesty's courts of law, the writer of this defiant language was perfectly cognizant; but he declared that the inevitable prosecution would be his opportunity of achieving a victory over the government. "For be it known to you," he wrote, "that in such a case you shall either publicly, boldly, notoriously pack a jury, or else see the accused rebel walk a free man out of the court of Queen's Bench—which will be a victory only less than the rout of your lordship's red-coats in the open field." In case of his defeat, other men would take up the cause, and maintain it until at last England would have to fall back on her old system of courts-martial, and triangles, and free quarters, and Irishmen would find that there was no help for them "in franchises, in votings, in spoutings, in shoutings, and toasts drank with enthusiasm—nor in anything in this world, save the extensor and contractor muscles of their right arms, in these and in the goodness of God above." The conclusion of this extraordinary address to her Majesty's representative was in the following terms:—
"In plain English, my Lord Earl, the deep and irreconcilable disaffection of this people to all British laws, lawgivers, and law administrators shall find a voice. That holy Hatred of foreign dominion which nerved our noble predecessors fifty years ago for the dungeon, the field, or the gallows (though of late years it has worn a vile nisi prius gown, and snivelled somewhat in courts of law and on spouting platforms) still lives, thank God! and glows as fierce and hot as ever. To educate that holy Hatred, to make it know itself, and avow itself, and, at last, fill itself full, I hereby devote the columns of the United Irishman."
After this address to the Lord Lieutenant, Mr. Mitchel took to addressing the farming classes, and it is really a study to observe the exquisite precision, the clearness, and the force of the language he employed to convey his ideas to them. In his second letter he supposes the case of a farmer who has the entire produce of his land in his haggard, in the shape of six stacks of corn; he shows that three of these ought, in all honour and conscience, be sufficient for the landlord and the government to seize upon, leaving the other three to support the family of the man whose labour had produced them. But what are the facts?—the landlord and the government sweep all away, and the peasant and his family starve by the ditch sides. As an illustration of this condition of things, he quotes from a southern paper an account of an inquest held on the body of a man named Boland, and on the bodies of his two daughters, who, as the verdict declared, had "died of cold and starvation," although occupants of a farm of over twenty acres in extent. On this melancholy case the comment of the editor of the United Irishman was as follows:—
"Now what became of poor Boland's twenty acres of crop? Part of it went to Gibraltar, to victual the garrison; part to South Africa, to provision the robber army; part went to Spain, to pay for the landlord's wine; part to London, to pay the interest of his honour's mortgage to the Jews. The English ate some of it; the Chinese had their share; the Jews and the Gentiles divided it amongst them—and there was none for Boland."
As to the manner in which the condition and fate of poor Boland were to be avoided, abundant instructions were given in every number. The anti-tithe movement was quoted as a model to begin with; but, of course, that was to be improved upon. The idea that the people would not venture on such desperate movements, and had grown enamoured of the Peace policy and of "Patience and Perseverance," Mr. Mitchel refused to entertain for a moment:—
"I will not believe that Irishmen are so degraded and utterly lost as this. The Earth is awakening from sleep; a flash of electric fire is passing through the dumb millions. Democracy is girding himself once more like a strong man to run a race; and slumbering nations are arising in their might, and 'shaking their invincible locks.' Oh! my countrymen, look up, look up! Arise from the death-dust where you have long been lying, and let this light visit your eyes also, and touch your souls. Let your ears drink in the blessed words, 'Liberty! Fraternity! Equality!' which are soon to ring from pole to pole! Clear steel will, ere long, dawn upon you in your desolate darkness; and the rolling thunder of the People's cannon will drive before it many a heavy cloud that has long hidden from you the face of heaven. Pray for that day; and preserve life and health that you may worthily meet it. Above all, let the man amongst you who has no gun sell his garment and buy one."
So Mr. Mitchel went on for some weeks, preaching in earnest and exciting language the necessity of preparation for an immediate grapple with "the enemy." In the midst of his labours came the startling news of another revolution in France, Louis Philippe in full flight, and the proclamation of a Republic. Yet a few days more and the Berliners had risen and triumphed, only stopping short of chasing their king away because he conceded all they were pleased to require of him; then came insurrection in Sicily, insurrection in Lombardy, insurrection in Milan, insurrection in Hungary—in short, the revolutionary movement became general throughout Europe, and thrones and principalities were tumbling and tottering in all directions. Loud was the complaint in the United Irishman because Dublin was remaining tranquil. It was evident, however, that the people and their leaders were feeling the revolutionary impulse, and that matters were fast hurrying towards an outbreak. John Mitchel knew that a crisis was at hand, and devoted all his energies to making the best use of the short time that his newspaper had to live. His writing became fiercer, more condensed, and more powerful than ever. Lord Clarendon was now addressed as "Her Majesty's Executioner General and General Butcher of Ireland," and instructions for street warfare and all sorts of operations suitable for an insurgent populace occupied a larger space than ever in his paper. But the government were now resolved to close with their bold and clever enemy. On Tuesday, the 21st of March, 1848, Messrs. O'Brien, Meagher, and Mitchel were arrested, the former for seditious speeches, uttered at a meeting of the Confederation held on the 15th of that month, the latter for three seditious articles published in the United Irishman. All were released on bail, and when the trials came on, in the month of May, disagreements of the jury took place in the cases of O'Brien and Meagher. But before the trial of Mr. Mitchel could be proceeded with, he was arrested on a fresh charge of "treason-felony"—a new crime, which had been manufactured by Act of Parliament a few weeks before. He was, therefore, fast in the toils, and with but little chance of escape. Little concern did this give the brave-hearted patriot, who only hoped and prayed that at last the time had come when his countrymen would launch out upon the resolute course of action which he had so earnestly recommended to them. From his cell in Newgate, on the 16th of May, he addressed to them one of his most exciting letters, of which the following are the concluding passages:—
"For me, I abide my fate joyfully; for I know that, whatever betide me, my work is nearly done. Yes; Moral Force and 'Patience and Perseverance' are scattered to the wild winds of heaven. The music my countrymen now love best to hear is the rattle of arms and the ring of the rifle. As I sit here and write in my lonely cell, I hear, just dying away, the measured tramp of ten thousand marching men—my gallant confederates, unarmed and silent, but with hearts like bended bow, waiting till the time comes. They have marched past my prison windows, to let me know there are ten thousand fighting men in Dublin—'felons' in heart and soul.
"I thank God for it. The game is afoot at last. The liberty of Ireland may come sooner or later, by peaceful negotiation or bloody conflict—but it is sure; and wherever between the poles I may chance to be, I will hear the crash of the downfall of the thrice-accursed British Empire."
On Monday, May 22nd, 1848, the trial of Mr. Mitchel commenced in the Commission Court, Green-street, before Baron Lefroy. He was eloquently defended by the veteran lawyer and uncompromising patriot, Robert Holmes, the brother-in-law of Robert Emmet. The mere law of the case was strong against the prisoner, but Mr. Holmes endeavoured to raise the minds of the jury to the moral view of the case, upon which English juries have often acted regardless of the letter of the Act of Parliament. With a jury of Irishmen impartially chosen it would have been a good defence, but the Castle had made sure of their men in this case. At five o'clock on the evening of the 26th, the case went to the jury, who, after an absence of two hours, returned into court with a verdict of "Guilty."