whirlwind of revolution which swept over the continent, overturning thrones and wrecking constitutions as if they were built of cardboard, Meagher shared the wild impulse of the hour, and played boldly for insurrection and separation.  He was one of the three gentlemen appointed to present the address from Ireland to the French Republican government in 1848; and in the speech delivered by him at the crowded meeting in the Dublin Music Hall before his departure, he counselled his countrymen to send a deputation to the Queen, asking her to convene the Irish parliament in the Irish capital.  “If the claim be rejected,” said Meagher, “if the throne stand as a barrier between the Irish people and the supreme right—­then loyalty will be a crime, and obedience to the executive will be treason to the country.  Depute your worthiest citizens to approach the throne, and before that throne let the will of the Irish people be uttered with dignity and decision.  If nothing comes of this,” he added, “if the constitution opens to us no path to freedom, if the Union be maintained in spite of, the will of the Irish people, if the government of Ireland insist on being a government of dragoons and bombadiers, of detectives and light infantry, then,” he exclaimed in the midst of tumultuous cheering, “up with the barricades, and invoke the God of Battles!”

While the Republican spirit was in full glow in Ireland, Meagher astonished his friends by rushing down to Waterford and offering himself as a candidate for the post left vacant in parliament by the resignation of O’Connell.  By this time the Confederates had begun to despair of a parliamentary policy, and they marvelled much to see their young orator rush to the hustings, and throw himself into the confusion and turmoil of an election contest. Que le diable allait il faire dans cette galere muttered his Dublin friends.  Was not the time for hustings orations, and parliamentary agitation over now?  Meagher, however, conceived, and perhaps wisely, that he could still do some good for his country in the House of Commons.  He issued a noble address to the electors of his native city, in which he asked for their support on the most patriotic grounds.  “I shall not meddle,” he said, “with English affairs.  I shall take no part in the strife of parties—­all factions are alike to me.  I shall go to the House of Commons to insist on the rights of this country to be held, governed, and defended by its own citizens, and by them alone.  Whilst I live I shall never rest satisfied until the kingdom of Ireland has won a parliament, an army, and a navy of her own.”  Mitchel strongly disapproved of his conduct.  “If Mr. Meagher were in parliament,” said the United Irishman, “men’s eyes would be attracted thither once more; some hope of ‘justice’ might again revive in this too easily deluded people.”  The proper men to send to parliament were according to Mitchel, “old placemen, pensioners, five pound Conciliation Hall Repealers.”  “We have no wish to dictate,” concluded Mitchel in an article on the subject, full of the lurking satire and quiet humour that leavened his writings, “but if the electors of Waterford have any confidence in us, we shall only say that we are for Costello!”