the skirts of the city the van was attacked by some eighteen Irish youths, having three revolvers—­three revolvers, gentlemen, and no more—­amongst them.  The valour of the Manchester eleven vanished at the sight of those three revolvers—­some of them, it seems, loaded with blank cartridge!  The Seth Bromleys took to their heels.  They abandoned the van.  Now, gentlemen, do not understand me to call those policemen cowards.  It is hard to blame an unarmed man who runs away from a pointed revolver, which, whether loaded or unloaded, is a powerful persuasion to—­depart.  But I do say that I believe in my soul that if that had occurred here in Dublin, eleven men of our metropolitan police whould have taken those three revolvers or perished in the attempt (applause).  Oh, if eleven Irish policemen had run away like that from a few poor English lads with barely three revolvers, how the press of England would yell in fierce denunciation—­why, they would trample to scorn the name of Irishman—­(applause in the court, which the officials vainly tried to silence). [Footnote C:  For publishing an illustration in the Weekly News thus picturing England’s policy of coercion, Mr. Sullivan had been found guilty of seditious libel on the previous trial.]

   Mr. Justice Fitzgerald—­If these interruptions continue, the parties
   so offending must be removed.

Mr. Sullivan—­I am sorry, my lord, for the interruption; though not sorry the people should endorse my estimate of the police.  Well, gentlemen, the van was abandoned by its valiant guard; but there remained inside one brave and faithful fellow, Brett by name.  I am now giving you the facts as I in my conscience and soul believe they occurred—­and as millions of my countrymen—­aye, and thousands of Englishmen, too—­solemnly believe them to have occurred, though they differ in one item widely from the crown version.  Brett refused to give up the key of the van, which he held; and the attacking party commenced various endeavours to break it open.  At length one of them called out to fire a pistol into the lock, and thus burst it open.  The unfortunate Brett at that moment was looking through the keyhole, endeavouring to get a view of the inexplicable scene outside, when he received the bullet and fell dead.  Gentlemen, that may be the true, or it may be the mistaken version.  You may hold to the other, or you may hold to this.  But whether I be mistaken therein, or otherwise, I say here, as I would say if I stood now before my Eternal Judge on the Last Day, I solemnly believe the mournful episode to have happened thus—­I solemnly believe that the man Brett was shot by accident, and not by design.  But even suppose your view differs sincerely from mine, will you, can you, hold that I, thus conscientiously persuaded, sympathise with murder, because I sympathise with men hanged for that which I contend was accident, and not murder?  That is exactly the issue in this case.