On January 13, 1847, when the famine was reaching its full horror, the Young Irelanders founded a new militant organization, the Irish Confederation, compelled they declared, to take this step by 'the inadequacy of the Government's relief measures'. The plan was to form Confederate 'clubs' in every city, town and parish:  militant organizations capable of exerting enough pressure to force the British Government to concede to Repeal of the Union immediately. For them, only Repeal of the Union and an Irish Parliament could save the country from destruction.

 

The Young Irelanders did not succeed.  The unfortunate masses of destitute were crushed by hunger;  the more prosperous were an inert mass of lower middle-class Catholic respectability; and 'Old Ireland' was powerful and hostile.  In Cork, for instance, it was impossible to start a club;  in Belfast the attempt resulted in a riot.  The campaign, which was to have been revolutionary, dwindled away into educational articles, debates and committee meetings.  Feelings of failure became universal.  'Our agitation so far has been a very eloquent high-toned business,' wrote a Young Irelander.  'I think it will have to become a more democratic style of work, and that at once too.' At the height of its popularity, however, Terrence Bellew MacManus, and others, attempted to stir a rebellion in Tipperary.

 

Terence Bellew MacManus was born in Monaghan, Ireland in 1823. He later emigrated to Liverpool, England, where he became a wealthy shipping agent. The rebel leader of the Young Irelander's movement in 1847, he was eventually destined to become a potent symbol of Irish revolutionary nationalism. But his escapades were destined to fail and he was finally arrested while on board the ship N.D. Chase in Cove Harbour. He was afterwards taken to Kilmainham Jail to await his trial for treason. Some time after his arrest and trial, MacManus wrote in the following terms to Charles Gavin Duffy, a compatriot in Newgate Prison:

 

My dearest Charles,

By the time the enclosed reaches your hands I hope to be on the way to a free country.  My business in Liverpool is ruined, but, thank Heaven, I have pluck enough left to open a new career; I regret not the part I have played, and under every circumstance, whether in prosperity or adversity, will be ready to play it over again.  For a short time I will devote myself to creating an honourable existence.  In the meantime I will never lose sight of the glorious cause to which I have pledged myself.  Whenever a death blow is to be struck at this vile despotism that crushes our land, I trust in heaven I will be there to strike.  Do not despond at our present failure.  I have got high hope, and am as light of heart, aye, and no more so, than when I stood on the hill of Tara in '43. I have seen more in the last short campaigns than you can learn in twenty years of a city life.  I see elements at work which, to my mind are indisputable evidences of what we have begun.  Therefore, be of good cheer.  May God bless you, and favour our cause, and may our poor trampled people soon have the right to the produce of their own toil, is the truest and purest wish my dear Duffy,

 

Your ever faithful friend,

T.B. McM.

 MacManus provided a narrative of his escapades in Tipperary and he sent this to Duffy. It went as follows:

 

I found O'Brien , Dillon, O'Donohoe and Stevens, with about a dozen followers.  A large force had assembled the day before, but O'Brien sent them home with orders to appear the next morning provisioned for two days.  They never returned. On Thursday morning we rang the chapel bells and collected all the men we could.  We paraded and drilled them, showed them how to form, charge etc.  Between twelve and one o'clock we marched to Mullinahone at the head of about a hundred and fifty slashing  fellows, tolerably armed, and all in high glee.  Dillon walked at their head.  When we neared the village I was ordered to purchase all the bread I could find and I can speak confidently of the numbers as I paid for a hundred and sixty men's shares, and had a few left.  During their hasty meal the parish priest got among them, and when we were ready to march we found a third of our men disaffected, and in a few minutes they dispersed.  This, however, did not damp us, and we pushed on for Slievenamon, where we expected Doheny with a considerable force.  To our mortification, however, desertion continued at every opportunity, so that while we were still five miles from the rendezvous our party did not exceed a score.  Under those circumstances we gave up the expedition to Slievenamon, dismissed our remaining  followers for the night, and about dusk, wearied by want of rest and proper food, we pushed on for Killenaule, where we arrived after midnight, and got accommodation in a small inn.

 

Next morning I was seized with a fit of cold shivering  from the wet and fatigue I had endured, and I was ordered to remain in bed.  But shortly afterwards Dillon and O'Donohoe rushed into my bedroom to announce that we were surrounded by a squadron of cavalry.  I jumped out of bed and when I had dressed hastily and got into the street, I learned that we were not actually surrounded but that the cavalry were advancing on the town.  I instantly gave the word 'up with the barricades' and calling  together about a score of idle loiterers who were in the streets, seized on some carts of turf, which were standing about, and in less than ten minutes we had the first barricade (an almost impassable one) erected at the narrowest part of the street. Dillon, Stevens, O'Brien and O'Donohoe took charge of erecting two others.  I then seized a horse and galloped off to reconnoitre. I took a short cut across the country, but on jumping on the road about a mile from the town I found to my consternation that the dragoons had passed;  I could see them at least half a mile in advance of me, and within view of the barricades.  I galloped after them , and collecting about seventy men on the road, we pulled an iron gate off the hinges, and raised about eighteen inches of a stone fence across the highway at the narrowest point, and placed ourselves behind it.  I have no doubt that this barricade (in the rear) was seen by the troopers.  The scene at the town I must give as described by my comrades on my return where I arrived half an hour afterwards, entirely free from the bilious fever with which I was supposed to have been attacked.

 

On the advance of the troop (the 8th Royal Irish) the officer in command (Captain Longmore) rode to the barricade and asked that his troop might pass.  By this time the insurgents had collected about thirty men, with one rifle, two muskets and some pikes and pitchforks, followed by a crowd of women and children.  Stevens covered the officer with his rifle, and held his piece at dead rest.  Dillon , who was standing

on the top of the first barricade (looking , as I was told the very personification of courage) entered into a parley with him, and demanded to know if he came to arrest O'Brien.  He gave his word of honour as a soldier that he had no warrant for O'Brien's arrest, and if allowed to pass quietly through the town would neither molest him nor anybody else.  After some consideration Dillon allowed them to pass, one by one, through the barricade.  The soldiers being Irish , and evidently not hostile, the people gave them a cheer as the last man passed. O'Brien was not present .  Before the troops advanced, Dillon and the others insisted on his retiring to some distance, which they got him to do with difficulty. Thus ended the affair at Killenaule.  It may be sneered at as a paltry business, but (all the circumstances considered) it was in fact an act of reckless bravery.

 

Before leaving the village (several recruits having come in) we reviewed the men who had arms of any description .  They amounted to about fifty.  With these we proceeded to the neighbouring collieries (where a large number of miners were employed).  We spent all the forenoon and evening in rousing the district.  We met support as far as the people could give it, but they were without arms, and seemed to

have had much of their physical courage starved out of them.  They were all hero worshipers however, and O'Brien was their idol.  Late in the evening we were joined to our great satisfaction by O'Mahony, Doheny, Meagher, Leyne, Reilly, Cantwell and some others, and we agreed to return to the village on the commons to take counsel together.

 

The Clonmel Trials for high treason in October, 1848 saw William Smith O'Brien, Meagher, O'Donohoe and MacManus tried for their lives. They were duly convicted and given the death penalty. The sentence of death being carried out was termed 'the terrible beauty'. After ten days, and up to nine hours each standing in the dock before a hostile audience, O'Brien was first to receive the awful sentence with all the ghastly details of its feudal accessories. He appeared cool and collected and chose only to say that he had done his duty. A poem, written by O'Brien before the event for which he was charged went as follows:

Whether on the gallows high,

Or in the battle's van,

The fittest place for man to die

Is where he dies for man.

 The sentenced passed on MacManus and his comrades went as follows:

The sentence is that you will be taken hence to the place from whence you came, and thence be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution; that each of you be there hanged by the neck until you are dead, and that afterwards the head of each of you shall be severed from the body, and the body of each divided into four quarters, to be disposed of as her Majesty may think fit. And may Almighty God have mercy upon your souls.

There was, however, to be no 'terrible beauty' as special legislation was passed to enable them to be transported, eleven months later, to Van Diemen's Land. Terence Bellew MacManus was transported there in 1848 but he soon escaped to America and became a Brigadier General in the American Army. He also took up residence in San Francisco and ran a business until the time of his death.Many years after his death MacManus' body was taken from California and accompanied to its last resting place in Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin. It was said of the funeral that never before in Ireland had such multitudes of men gathered together to pay their last respects. Even the funeral of Parnell was not so volumously attended. The MacManus funeral was effectively a political demonstration.

 

Reference:

Charles Gavin Duffy Four Years of Irish History.  

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