TO THE EDITOR OF THE FREEMAN.
It is not my purpose on this occasion to show the shameless waste of the hard earnings of the people now going on, and the utter contempt and disregard of all respect for their intelligence and common sense. My object at the present time is to produce the proofs with regard to the infamous character of those who may be designated as the leaders in this Fenian movement of Confederation; and endeavour to prepare the people for the troubles that must surely overwhelm them when those arch-traitors have succeeded in their schemes.
And, first, with regard to the “Fenian T. D’Arcy McGee,” I proceed to open as it were, the sheet which contains the secrets of his heart; the damnable proof of the traitorous principles fastened upon him, and which will continue to show fruit until he has succeeded in deluging these peaceful Provinces with blood, and separating them from the British Empire. The following extracts are from best English authorities:
Illustrated London News, 22nd July, 1848: – “The Limerick Grand Jury have found true bills against Mr. T. F. Meagher. He has traversed to next assizes, and his trial for “sedition” accordingly stands postponed until the month of March, 1849. The proceedings adopted by the law officers of the Crown in the case of Mr. D’Arcy McGee, of the Nation, and Mr. Hollywood, one of the Club emissaries, have, by some mismanagement, been rendered altogether nugatory. The offence with which Messrs. McGee and Hollywood stood charged was committed on Sunday, July 2nd. The [informations], however, were not lodged until Wednesday, the 12th inst., on the evening of which day, at six o’clock, their arrest was accomplished.”
London News, 29th July 1848: – “[Advices] of the most alarming kind reached town from Ireland on Thursday afternoon. The Clubs have declared that they are determined to resist to the death, and await the striking of the “first blow” by the Government. With the object of entrenching themselves, Mr. O’Brien retreated to Wexford, Mr. Meagher to Waterford, Mr. O’Gorman, Junr., to Limerick, and Michael Doheny to Cashel or Clonmel. Mr. D’Arcy McGee, another prominent leader of the Confederates, (he is again a leader of the Confederates) was among the list of the missing at head-quarters, but his destination was unknown. Some of the inferior leaders were also in eclipse, in anticipation of the arrival on Tuesday evening of the Act empowering Lord Clarendon to deal in a summary method with all persons “suspected” of treasonable designs against her Majesty’s person or Government.”
London News, Nov. 4th, 1848: – REBEL FUGITIVES. – The Warder makes the following announcement: – “Mr. Thomas D’Arcy McGee, the able and energetic co-operator with Mr. Duffy in the management of the Nation, and author of some of the most unequivocal and audacious treason in poetry and prose, has, we are assured, positively effected his escape to the more congenial climate of the United States. A letter has been received in town by a near relation of the insurgent exile, announcing his safe arrival in Philadelphia.”
And now Mr. Editor, I place before your readers specimens of the poetry of Mr. T. D’Arcy McGee, showing the “audacious treason” spoken of above – which rankled in his heart:
Beside Niagara’s awful wave
He stood – a ransom’d Irish slave;
Self-ransomed by a woeful flight,
That robbed his heaven of half its light,
And flung him in a nation free –
The fettered slave of Memory.
The exile’s eye strove not to rest
Upon the cataract’s curling crest,
Nor paused it on the brilliant bow
Which hung aslant the gulf below;
The banks of adamant to him
Were unsubstantial, tall and dim;
But from his gaze, a child had guessed
There raged a cataract in his breast.
A flag against the northern sky
Alone engaged his eager eye;
Upon Canadian soil it stood –
Its hue was that of human blood;
Its hue was crossed with pallid scars –
Pale, steely, stiff as prison bars.
“Oh, cursed flag!” the exile said,
“The hair grows heavy on my head:
My blood leaps wilder than this water,
On seeing thee, thou sign of slaughter;
Oh, may I never meet my death
Till I behold the day of wrath,
When on they squadrons shall be poured
The vengeance heaven so long has stored!”
Then turning to his friends, who had
Deemed him from sudden frenzy mad:
“My friends,” he said, “you little know
The fire yon red rag kindles so;
None but an Irish heart can tell
The thought that causes mine to swell,
When I behold the fatal sign
That blighted the green land once mine;
That stripped her of each gallant chief;
That scourged her for her bold belief;
That would have blotted out her name,
Could England buy the trump of Fame;
But, help us, Heaven, she never can!
While lives one constant Irishman.”
He paused. No human voice replied;
But, with a mighty oath, the tide
Seemed swearing as it leaped and ran –
“No! no! by Heaven, they never can!
While lives one constant Irishman.”
Let your readers pause over the following lines, and clasp their throbbing hearts when the full force of the horrid oath therein recorded – the eternal enmity to British rule thus displayed – is felt within them:
“I swear to you, dear Duffy, by my honour and my faith,
As I hope for stainless name, and salvation after death,
By the green grave of my MOTHER, ‘neath Selsker’s ruined wall,
By the birth-land of my early hopes, of you – my bride – and all.
That my days are DEDICATED to the RUIN OF THAT POWER,
That holds you fast and libels you in your defence-less hour.
Like an Indian of the wild woods I’ll dog their track of slime,
Till I shake the Gaza pillars of the godless Mam mon shrine!”
The loyal people of New Brunswick struggled hard for the connection that had always existed, but they were defeated in their efforts; and it now only remains for them, when the ruin of their Country is accomplished, and the object of Traitors has been successful, to inflict dire vengeance on the Fenian leader THOS. D’ARCY MCGEE, and his accomplices in this Province – the lying hypocrites who deceived their own people, who are now robbing them, and wasting their resources in Great Britain – still indulging in the same gluttony and drunkenness that marked their course through the British Provinces!
September 10th,  T.