Irishmen. They were not. He wished they were.
If they were, if the men of England, from one end to the other, were
prepared to say, "These men shall not be executed," they would not be. He
was afraid they had not pluck enough for that. Their moral courage was
not equal to their physical strength. Therefore he would not say that
they were prepared to do so. They must plead _ad misericordiam_. He
appealed to the press, which represented the power of England; to that
press which in its panic-stricken moments had done much harm, and which
ought now to save these four doomed men. If the press demanded it, no
Government would be mad enough to resist. The memory of the blood which
was shed in 1798 rose up like a bloody ghost against them to-day. He only
feared that what they said upon the subject might do the poor men more
harm than good. If it were not so, he would coin words that should speak
in words of fire. As it was, he could only say to the Government: You are
strong to-day; you hold these men's lives in your hands; but if you want
to reconcile their country to you, if you want to win back Ireland, if
you want to make her children love you--then do not embitter their hearts
still more by taking the lives of these men. Temper your strength with
mercy; do not use the sword of justice like one of vengeance; for the day
may come when it shall be broken in your hands, and you yourselves
brained by the hilt of the weapon you have so wickedly wielded."

In October he had printed a plea for Ireland, strong and earnest,
asking:--

"Where is our boasted English freedom when you cross to Kingstown pier?
Where has it been for near two years? The Habeas Corpus Act suspended,
the gaols crowded, the steamers searched, spies listening at shebeen
shops for sedition, and the end of it a Fenian panic in England. Oh,
before it be too late, before more blood shall stain the pages of our
present history, before we exasperate and arouse bitter animosities, let
us try and do justice to our sister land. Abolish once and for all the
land laws, which in their iniquitous operation have ruined her peasantry.
Sweep away the leech-like Church which has sucked her vitality, and has
given her back no word even of comfort in her degradation. Turn her
barracks into flax mills, encourage a spirit of independence in her
citizens, restore to her people the protection of the law, so that they
may speak without fear of arrest, and beg them to plainly and bold