The Irish standard., 1904-12-03

demanded sacrifice. The pardon of
Mcguire, the reprieve of Condor, were
called lamentable exhibitions of weak
ness and vacillahon. If disaffection
and assassination We're not to have a
triumph; if life and property were to
be protected, law and order asserted
and avenged, these men must hang
upon the gallows tree.
These views prevailed.
In anticipation of the event at hand,
the government ordered large bodies
of troops to the cities and towns
throughout England where a danger
GUS Irish element was supposed to ex-
ist Manchester, as was observed at
the time, resembled place besieged.
Special constables We're enrolled in
large numbers, and military occupied
all the positions deemed strategically
important in and around the Jail. Ear
ly on the evening of the 22d crowd
commenced to assemble outside the
prison wall. Their conduct through
out the night was very bad; several
times the Jail authorities caused them
to be removed, as their shouts, yells
and songs of triumph disturbed the
doomed men inside preparing for eter-
nifty. breakdown dances" were
performed, and comic songs We're
varied with verses of 'God Save the
Queen" or "Rule Britannia" for the
"Fenian murderers" inside to hear.
The last evening of their lives, hap
PLY, was solaced by the receipt Of a
letter, couched in kindly and touching
words, and enclosing 100 pounds ''for
the families they would leave behind" !"
from the Dowager Marchioness of
Queensberry. "From the first" says a
published account, "the prisoners ex-
hibited deep, fervid religious spirit
which could scarcely have been sur
passed."
In the cold gray morning of the 23d
of November, 1867, Allen, Larkin and
O'Brien were led out to die. Such a
concourse had never before attended a
Manchester execution as thronged
around the Jail. Long files of bayonets
reached all sides. A temporary plat
form ran some length at each end of
the scaffold, but inside the prison wall,
and was occupied by detachments of
the I'D Highlanders, who stopped be-
hind the masonry, with the muzzles of
the loaded rifles resting on the top.
Even the savage crowd hushed for a
moment at the death bells toll, and
soon the condemned appeared Allen
came first. He was deathly pale, but
walked with firm and steady tread.
Next came Larkin, greatly overcome,
and trembling with emotion. Last
stepped forth O'Brien, whose firm and
dignified bearing was the admiration
Of all who beheld him. Before he was
placed upon the trap he moved to
where his two comrades stood capped
and pinioned, with fatal cord around
each neck, and kissed them lovingly.
They were greatly affected, and all
three embraced one another tenderly.
The bolt was drawn, the three bodies
fell, struggled convulsively for few
minutes, and all was over
When on that Saturday morning the
news was flashed to Ireland, 'tAllen,
Larkin and O'Brien were hanged at s
O'Clock in front of Stafford JAIL" sur
prise, dismay, grief and rage filled
every breast. Men gasped, astounded,
and asked could this dreadful tale be
true. Others, more violently moved,
went about With flushed cheek and
darkened brow, clenching their teeth
in silent passion. Men who even up
to this period had been more OF less in
conflict with Fenianism We're overpow-
SASN w lAlo DloN. vi Will lllcy
asked, was this deed in Manchester but
an act Of political vengeance, another
cruel tragedy in the long struggle be-
tween Irish revolt and English power?
In the afternoon came fuller accounts
Of the execution, containing one SEN
tence which stung the Irish people
most keenly: "The bodies of the three
murderers were buried in quicklime
in unconsecrated ground within the
Jail" Murderers, indeed. Buried in
quicklime! Here was a stroke which
went home; a barbed and poisoned ar
row which pierced the heart of Ire
land. This branding of their inani-
mate bodies with infamy, this denial
of Christian burial in consecrated
earth, wounded the most sensitive feel
ings Of Irishmen. Next day, Sunday,
the news reached the provinces, and in
hI1n6ro6c of o1,,ra1,oe o4 41>o