Thomas Russell The Man from God Knows Where An Irish Hero with a Hatred of Irish Slavery Thomas Paliser Russell born in Cork on the 21 November 1767 executed in Downpartrick on the 21 October 1803) Russell was one of the founders and organisers of the United Irishmen, co-author of the Declaration and Test of the United Irishmen (1791) with Samuel Neilson and Henry Joy McCracken. He missed the 1798 attempt at Revolution as he was imprisoned at Fort George in Scotland on a charge of High Treason. Was released in 1802 and went to Paris where he met up with Robert Emmett and began plans for the Rising of 1803. After the failure of the rising he was arrested and executed. An impressive feature of Russells was his stance on freedom, universal freedom . He made clear his anti-slavery views on many occasions. While at Dungannon made impassioned public speeches on his hatred of slavery and wrote to Northern Star his views were published on March 17, 1792. An editorial comment took the less generous view – wealthy men agreed with Russell but pointing out the immediate necessity to liberate three million slaves in Ireland. Russell did not believe that any distinction should be made. Also a veteran anti-slavery campaigner, Mary Ann McCrackeni n her memoirs said that as a young officer in Belfast Russell abstained from the use of slave labour produce until slavery in the West Indies was abolished, and at the dinner parties to which he was invited to, when confectionery was served he would not take anything with sugar in it . . . as a personal statement of his opinion of slave produced goods In one of his final letters, written to Frank and Mary Ann McCracken in the week before his trial, he said- As to me I can only say that in the last moment of my Liberty I was not thinking of myself or acting for myself but for my Country. Politically I have done nothing but what I glory in, morally I acknowledge myself a grevious sinner. I trust for pardon and mercy thro my saviour as I do most sincerely pardon all those who are about to take my life. The Man From God Knows Where Florence M. Wilson Into our townlan, on a night of snow, Rode a man from God-knows-where; None of us bade him stay or go, Nor deemed him friend, nor damned him foe. But we stabled his big roan mare: For in our townlan were decent folk, An if he didnt speak, why none of us spoke, An we sat till the fire burned low. Were a civil sort in our wee place, So we made the circle wide Round Andy Lemons cheerful blaze, An wished the man his length o days; An a good end to his ride, He smiled in under his slouchy hat Says he: Theres a bit of a joke in that, For we ride different ways. The whiles we smoked we watched him From his seat fornent the glow, I nudged Joe Moore, You wouldnt dare To ask him who hes for meetin there, An how far has he got to go? But Joe wouldnt dare, nor Wullie Boy Scott, An he took no drink - neither cold nor hot This man from God-knows-where. It was closin time, an late forbye, When us ones braved the air I neer saw worse, may I live or die, Than the sleet that night, an I says, says I, Yell find hes for stoppin there. But at screich o day, through the gable pane I watched him spur in the peltin rain, An I juked from his rovin eye. Two winters more, then the Trouble Year, When the best that a man could feel Was the pike he kept in hidlins near, Till the blood o hate an the blood o fear Would be redder nor rust on the steel. Us ones quit from mindin the farms Let them take what we gave wi the weight o our arms, From Saintfield to Kilkeel. In the time o the hurry, tho we had no lead We all of us fought with the rest An if eer a one shook like a tremblin reed None of us gave neither hint nor heed, Nor even showed wed guessed. We men of the North had a word to say, An we said it then, in our own dour way, An we spoke as we thought was best. All Ulster over, the weemen cried For the standin crops on the lan Monys the sweetheart an monys the bride Would liefer hae gone till where he died. An hae murned her lone by her man, But us ones weathered the thick of it, An we used to dander along an sit In Andys side by side. What with discourse goin to an fro, The night would be wearin thin, Yet never so late when we rose to go But someone would say: Dye mind thon snow, An the man came wanderin in? An wed be fallin to talk again, If by chance he was one o them The man who went like the win Well, twas gettin on past the heat o the year When I rode to Newtown fair; I sold as I could - the dealers were near Only three pounds eight for the Innis steer, An nothin at all for the mare - But I met McKee in the throng o the street Says he, The grass has grown under our feet Since they hanged young Warwick here An he told me that Boney had promised help To a man in Dublin town Says he, If yeve laid the pike on the shelf, Yed best go home hot-foot by yerself, An once more take it down. So by Comber road I trotted the gray An never cut corn until Killyleagh Stood plain on the risin groun For a wheen o days we sat waitin the word To rise an go at it like men, But no French ships sailed into Cloughey Bay, An we heard the black news on a harvest day That the cause was lost again; An Joey an me, an Wullie Boy Scott, We agreed to ourselves wed as lief as not Hae been found in the thick o the slain By Downpatrick Gaol I was bound to fare On a day Ill remember, faith For when I came to the prison square The people were waitin in hundreds there, An you wouldnt hear stir nor breath For the sodgers were standin, grim an tall, Round a scaffold built fornent the wall, An a man stepped out for death I was brave an near to the edge o the throng, Yet I knowed the face again, An I knowed the set, an I knowed the walk An the sound of his strange up-country talk, For he spoke out right an plain Then he bowed his head to the swingin rope While I said, Please God to his dyin hope An Amen to his dyin prayer. That the wrong would cease an the right prevail - For the man that they hanged at Downpatrick Gaol Was the man from God-knows-where His headstone reads: Do mhiannaich so ardmtáh Cum tir a breith Do thug se clue as fuair se moladh An deig a bais. English inscription: In Memory of THOMAS ADDIS EMMET. Who exemplified in his conduct, And adorned by his integrity, The policy and principles of the UNITED IRISHMEN-- To forward a brotherhood of affection, A community of rights, an identity of interests, and a union of power Among Irishmen of every religious persuasion, As the only means of Irelands chief good, An impartial and adequate representation IN AN IRISH PARLIAMENT. For this (mysterious fate of virtue) exiled from his native land, In America, the land of Freedom, He found a second country, Which paid his love by reverencing his genius. Learned in our laws, and in the laws of Europe, In the literature of our times, and in that of antiquity, All knowledge seemed subject to his use. An orator of the first order, clear, copious, fervid, Alike powerful to kindle the imagination, touch the affections, And sway the reason and will. Simple in his tastes, unassuming in his manners, Frank, generous, kind-hearted, and honorable, His private life was beautiful, As his public course was brilliant. Anxious to perpetuate The name and example of such a man, Alike illustrious by his genius, his virtues, and his fate; Consecrated to their affections by his sacrifices, his perils, And the deeper calamities of his kindred, IN A JUST AND HOLY CAUSE; His sympathizing countrymen Erected this Monument and Cenotaph. Fuair si bas ar son saoirse na hEireann, dílis ar son Éire Aontaithe, I ndíl cuimhne i gcónaí. Fíor Gael Picture 1 THomas Russell Picture 2 Arrest of Picture Execution of Thomas Russell
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 16:19:28 +0000
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